“Don't worry about it. She's all prepared to go.”
“I guess Sean's the real bad guy here. Not only did he lie to Micheline, but he actually tried to get away with dating two women who are practically roommates. How much nerve does that take?”
“Yeah, that's true,” Cécile admitted.
“And something else. I feel foolish telling you this, Cécile, but I noticed a change in Sean's attitude since we started having sex.”
“Changed how?”
“He wasn't as attentive or considerate as he was before. He used to open the passenger door of the car for me first, for example. The last couple of times we went out, he got in the driver's seat and then popped the door lock for me. I tried to tell myself that the timing was just coincidental, but it wasn't.”
“Have you heard from him?”
“No, and I don't expect to. It's over. I've got to accept that I've been cast aside in favor of a woman fifteen years younger than me.”
“You're exaggerating, Dana. Micheline is twenty-seven.”
“And I'm thirty-nine, so she's only a dozen years younger. I know you're trying, Cécile, but it doesn't make it any easier to take.” Dana sighed. “But Sean is out of my life and Micheline soon will be. I'll get over it. And I'll remember that you tried to warn me.”
It surprised Dana that she coped with Sean's betrayal so well. Knowing that Micheline planned to leave next week helped, and so had confiding in Cécile about Sean's change in attitude. Thank God Cécile hadn't said, “I told you so.” Maybe Norell wouldn't say it, either, but Norell's personality wasn't as considerate as Cécile's. Besides, unlike Cécile, Norell had no need to feel embarrassed about the whole thing. Micheline wasn't
her
sister.
“Cécile, can you do me a favor?” she asked. “Can we keep this between us? I'd prefer Norell didn't know about it. I don't feel like her getting all in my face and saying I should have listened to her and never gone out with Sean in the first place. I know you didn't like the idea either, but you were never as vocal about it as she was.”
“This is
your
business, Dana. It's not my place to tell Norell anything.”
“Thanks, hon.”
Dana felt much better when she hung up. She hadn't told Cécile about the other person who helped her through this unpleasant episode, although unknowingly. Laughing and talking with Gil Albacete had the effect of a hot toddy on a cold. It made her feel all warm and tingly inside, made her want to stretch out like a cat, then curl up.
Preferably with someone.
Chapter 19
V
ic Bellamy walked expectantly into the kitchen after parking his car and entering the house through the garage. He found it spotless ... and empty. He frowned. This was the third time this week he had come home to find Norell buried in work. Shit. He thought her having decided against pursuing the procedure her doctor recommended was a good thing, but she had jumped into work like it was a lifeline, not even giving herself sufficient time to recuperate from her surgery, at least in his opinion. Now the needs of CDN rated first on her list of priorities. Vic was not happy about being number two.
He went to her office and tapped on the open door.
“Oh, hi, honey. I was hoping I'd be all done by the time you got home.”
“I left a little earlier today.”
He did a quick scan of the room and noticed her straightening up, like it was the end of her workday. That was an improvement, at least, over previous days, when she returned to her office the minute the dishwasher began to hum.
“I was just about to leave to pick up the large steak and cheese calzone I ordered from Paesano's.”
“Sounds good. I'll be in the living room, watching the news.”
Norell found herself short of breath when Vic left the room. She could always sense when he was displeased with her long hoursâhis movements would become stiff, his body language cold. Instead of easy conversation, long silences often stretched between them, or he gave one-word answers to her questions. And at night, he would keep his distance from her in bed. She'd have to be crazy not to realize something was amiss.
Because she didn't want the problem to escalate into something major, she had rushed to get a certain amount of work completed by the time he came home. She'd done it, but there had been no time to cook or to shop. It was nine-thirty when she sat down to work in her office, after a leisurely breakfast with Vic and doing her housework. It hardly seemed possible, but the time now was ten past seven. Nearly ten hours was plenty long enough for a workday, though this day was actually shorter than most of the ones she'd had lately.
It was probably her own fault they were so busy. She had been in the dentist's office, waiting to have her six-month cleaning and checkup, when she noticed a man in the waiting area dictating into a hand-held recorder. She immediately handed him one of her business cards and introduced herself. It turned out he was a mortgage banker preparing a special report, one that his secretary would not be able to handle because of her other duties. Norell had accepted the job, even though the transcription wasn't medical related. She'd delivered the reports to him this morning. They turned out to be longer than she thoughtâthirty-two typed pages, all of which had to be proofread. On top of that, there had been all of the CDN backlog to take care of. But the broker was pleased with her work and said he would have more by the end of the week.
Norell decided that she couldn't handle the extra workloadâCDN was too backloggedâbut Jessica, Vic's older daughter, could do it. She was a good typist with excellent English skills, and she'd expressed interest in working as an MT part time while she studied nursing in college. Of course, this particular assignment was associated with the real-estate business rather than patient care, but it would be good transcription experience and easier to do because the dictator used everyday language. Norell had already spoken to Jessica about helping out, and the teen was looking forward to making a few dollars.
Jessica would have to come to the house to use the transcribing unit and computer, and also to have Norell readily available for any questions, but Norell didn't mind, even if the girls weren't scheduled to spend the weekend this week. Amber would probably be bored by it all and would stay home with Phyllis. And once Jessica finished her work she'd go home as well. In the meantime, Norell could relax with Vic while her stepdaughter worked. Maybe she and Vic could recapture some of what they'd lost these last months.
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Michael and Cécile got out of the Expedition. He headed for the rear of the vehicle, where he had placed the girls' overnight bags. Cécile hugged her daughters good-bye.
“So what does your daddy have planned for you guys this weekend?” she asked.
“We're going to that big water park in Georgia!” Gaby exclaimed, clearly excited about the prospect.
“Well, that sounds like a lot of fun. You guys be good, all right?”
Michael handed Josie, Gaby, and Eleith their overnight bags and hugged them good-bye, then leaned against the car while Cécile walked them to Louis's door. She and Louis were civil, but spoke as little as possible. When her first husband opened the door she merely said hello, then said she would be back for them at six
P.M.
on Sunday unless he had any objections.
“That'll be fine,” he said. “Say good-bye to Mommy, girls.”
The trio waved to her, and she blew them a kiss, then returned to Michael, who seated her in the truck, which involved a high step up.
“Everything okay?” he asked when he had gotten behind the wheel.
“Louis doesn't upset me anymore, Michael. He hasn't for a long time now.”
“I know he hasn't. But your personality has changed a little over the past few weeks. Must be hormones.”
She sighed. “I've been pregnant enough times to breeze through it. I think it's more like being overworked. Much as I love the girls, I'm kind of glad to be getting a break. There's so much to do, what with the household matters, work, CDNâ”
“And house hunting,” he added.
“Yes, that too.” She chuckled weakly.
“Well, there's a lot of real-estate ads in the Saturday paper. The kids will be okay at home alone for a few hours. What say we pick up a newspaper, go over the real-estate ads over some breakfast, and then do some looking?”
Cécile looked at him in surprise. He'd been so negative about house hunting after that first time, expressing over and over again how the coming baby was going to ruin them financially, that she'd been going out alone weekend afternoons. She found herself alternating between enjoying the peaceful time without listening to Michael grouse and resenting his taking the kids bowling or to the movies while she ran herself ragged trying to find a comfortable, affordable place for them to live. She wondered if this was his method of punishing her for getting pregnant, and for the first time ever she felt her marriage might be in danger. But now renewed enthusiasm flowed through her veins. “Sure,” she said.
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Cécile and Michael walked from the driveway to their front door hand in hand. “I'm going to lie down,” she said dejectedly when he unlocked the door. This session of house hunting had been no more fruitful than their previous searches, amounting to hours that could have been spent doing something more productive.
He nuzzled her neck. “Go ahead,” he said when he straightened up. “I guess I'll take the kids to rent some videos to keep them busy, and then I'll join you. But don't be so discouraged, Cécile. We'll find a house eventually. I don't understand why you're in such a tearing hurry. It won't be the end of the world if we live here until after the baby comes. He or she will sleep in the room with us anyway the first few months.”
At least he hadn't said anything negative. “Michael, we'll be tripping all over the crib. We barely have room for our bedroom furniture.” After a moment's hesitation, Cécile decided to share her true fear with him. “Besides, if we don't get a house now, I'm afraid we never will. I have terrible visions of seven kids running around the house, with the baby's bed pushed against a wall in the alcove where I do my work.”
“We'll find a larger house, Cécile. In the meantime, let's be glad that we're still getting a financial break.” He patted her shoulder. “Go on in and lie down. I'll take care of the kids.”
She looked around the small bedroom before closing her eyes. She couldn't imagine putting a baby crib in here. How would she manage to get out of bed with it sandwiched between the bed and the wall?
In spite of the day's disappointment, she recognized the silver lining. At last Michael seemed to have accepted the idea of having another child. The angry scowl she'd seen so often since she'd told him had disappeared.
She moved into the center of the bed, lying with one hand resting on her swelling abdomen. In case she did drift off, she wanted to be aware when Michael laid down with her, and if she was in the middle of the bed, he was sure to tell her to move over. It would take him at least thirty minutes to go to the video store and come back, and in that time she could get a rejuvenating catnap. She saw an opportunity she wasn't about to pass up.
Monet and the boys would be occupied with their movie rentals for at least three hours, and the darkening skies above suggested an afternoon storm. A few hours behind closed doors with Michael on a rainy Saturday afternoon would be a real treat. She couldn't think of a more ideal way to at least begin to heal what had been the first real threat to their marriage.
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“Errol,” Micheline said, her voice holding a warning.
“Hmm?”
“I think we need to slow down.”
“Oh, come on Michie, you can't get me all hot and bothered and then say no.”
She wrenched out of his grasp. “Errol, believe me, it's getting to me too, but I know that I shouldn't ... and I won't.”
“Come on, Michie, you aren't going to tell me you're a virgin, are you?”
“No, I can't tell you that. But the time that I was intimate with someone, it didn't have a happy ending. He said he loved me, but he didn't.”
That got to Errol. He immediately stiffened, his body language as well as his facial expression, and she feared she'd made a serious misstep in trying to get him to say he loved her this soon.
“Well, I'm not saying that I love you. I can't say that. But you know I'm crazy about you, and I'm crazy
for
you. Micheline, you've been around long enough to know that sex and love are often two different things.”
“Yes, but I want both,” she said stubbornly. “If that makes me a weirdo, then so be it.”
For a few moments the silence hung heavily in the air between them. Then Errol softened. “C'mere, you,” he said, holding out his arms. They shared a brief, almost impersonal hug.
“All right, I'm gone,” he said against her hair, although she had done no prodding. He leaned in forward for one last quick kiss.
Micheline closed the door behind him, a satisfied smile on her face. Her friend Yolanda's instincts had been right on. She and Errol hit it off from the beginning. They'd gone to dinner the following Saturday. If Sean thought it odd that she'd been unavailable two Saturday nights in a row, he hadn't mentioned it. Instead he suggested Sunday brunch at River City Brewing, a downtown spot overlooking the St. Johns River. Then they went back to her place for a quick roll in the hay before heading out to the beach, where they'd had that embarrassing run-in with Dana. The very next day she had gone to the apartment rental office, where she'd arranged to move into her apartment before the first of the month on a prorated rent basis. Sean had helped her move.
She loved her new apartment. The complex was brand new, so new that her apartment had had no prior occupants. After she and Sean had the furniture in, she pushed it all to the center of the respective rooms and painted her bedroom a relaxing sea green and her living room a rich apricot. It meant not getting her security deposit back, for she knew that when it came time to leave here she wasn't about to paint it all white again. But Micheline felt it was worth the two hundred fifty dollars she would lose if it meant not having to look at hospital-white walls. In her living room that would have looked particularly awful, since she had white furniture.
In just two weeks she had managed to make a sparsely furnished apartment both comfortable and homey. She wanted Errol to know she had good homemaking skills.
She turned on the television with the remote control, then stretched out on the sofa, her hands clasped behind her head. Perfect. One of the networks was airing
Pretty Woman
, one of her favorite movies. Wow. Imagine meeting someone who looked like Richard Gere had in his primeâthese days he looked like any other old fellow in his fiftiesâwho had all the money in the world, and have him fall in love with you. She raised her hands over her head in a stretch of her entire body. That wasn't likely to happen to her. Not that she had anything to complain about. Errol Trent represented a catch that no woman in her right mind would throw back.
Life was good.