Saturday Morning (16 page)

One week later, after a marvelous visit with her older sister, marred only by comments about “that gigolo,” as Nadia insisted on calling Gregor, Clarice stood in the tiny rest room aboard the flight from Newark to SFO, as she was learning to call the San Francisco airport. She touched perfume to her neck, reapplied her lipstick, and made sure every strand in her highlighted, warm-blond hair fell perfectly. She’d spoken on the cell with Gregor just before her flight lifted off. He couldn’t wait to see her. Their furniture would be arriving sometime this afternoon, but she wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

After checking to make sure no lipstick had smeared on her front teeth, Clarice left the rest room, returned to her seat, and buckled up for the landing.

“California, here I come … ” The tune had been on her mind all day. A thrill of excitement rippled from heel to head.

People deplaning lined the aisle, and when it came her turn, the nice man in the seat across the aisle motioned for her to go in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“You are indeed welcome. Are you sure you’re being met?”

“Oh yes. Thank you for your concern. I have most enjoyed our visit.”

She followed the other passengers up the aisle. Gregor had said he would be waiting for her at the baggage claim, and all she had to do was follow the signs.

But he wasn’t there. And when she called his cell phone, all she heard was voice mail. Disappointment burgeoned. But, she reassured herself, he’d most likely been caught in traffic. He’d warned her how bad California traffic could be. The same nice man lifted her suitcase off the baggage carousel when it came around, so she thanked him again, reassured him that she was all taken care of, and followed the signs to passenger pickup. She could hear Gregor as if he were standing right there.

“Now if something comes up and I can’t make it, all your instructions and the key to our new home are right here in your envelope. I don’t foresee any problems, but it is always better to be prepared.
” He’d shown her the contents and tucked the envelope into her handbag.
“Even I cannot control California traffic.”

A frisson of what?—concern, worry, fear?—snaked up her spine.
Holy Mary Mother of God, protect me.
She sucked in a deep breath. Should she wait or should she go? If only he would answer his phone. She dialed the number again, only to hear his dear voice instructing her to leave a message, and he’d return the call as soon as he was able.

She waited for half an hour. No call. No appearance. So she flagged a taxi, something she knew well how to do after her years in New York City, and gave the driver the address.

After what seemed an interminable time, with the fare ratcheting up, the cab climbed one more hill, steep enough to slam her against the seat back, and stopped in front of a not fancy but friendly appearing building, smack on top of the hill. A brick edifice with cut gray
stones around the entry beckoned her.
The Frederick
had been carved into a marble face over the entrance.

“Here you are. That’ll be forty dollars,” the cab driver said when he’d finished unloading her bag from the trunk.

She pulled the bills from her wallet and handed them to him. Her cash was dwindling rapidly. Thank heaven for credit cards. With her heavy purse propped on the handle of her suitcase, she tugged the pieces up the three steps and made sure they were stable before pulling out the envelope again and removing the key. The instructions said this key would open both the front door to the lobby and the door to their condominium. She peeked in through the glass wall. A lovely interior awaited her, a warm pool of lamplight around a chair created before her time. How she loved antiques. A stunning arrangement of flowers that looked to be fresh reflected in a mirror behind the carved library table.

She sighed with pleasure.
Ah, Gregor, how perfect. Now if you were only here to enjoy this first minute with me.
She inserted her key into the lock and turned it. Or rather tried to turn it. Nothing. She tried again, the other way this time. Nothing. The key refused to turn. The door refused to open. Now what? She searched for a buzzer that would call the building manager. None.

She tried the key again. Her hand shook slightly.

Panic tasted bitter.

Andy hummed a Celine Dion song as she put on her liquid foundation. They still had a half hour before they were to meet Suzanne in the dining room for brunch.

Last night, Andy had seen glimpses of the old Martin, the fun Martin, the interesting Martin, the attentive and charming Martin. Throughout dinner they talked about Morgan, her homesickness, and what they could say and do to get her through it so she could get the education she wanted. During the play, Martin seemed to genuinely enjoy himself. He laughed and clapped and kept a smile on his face until the very end. Afterward, in the cab on the way back to the hotel, he put his arm around her shoulders and held her close. Once in their room, he reintroduced her to the romantic Martin, the man she’d fallen in love with over thirty years ago.

Andy closed her eyes.
Thank You, Father, for last night. Thank You for reminding me what a wonderful man Martin is and how lucky I am to have him.

If every visit to San Francisco could be even half as wonderful as last night …

She laughed to herself.
Now that would be an unrealistic expectation, old girl.
First of all, the circumstances would never be exactly the same, and second … Her smile turned into a frown. What if last night
was just Martin trying to butter her up so she would reconsider selling everything and moving? She banished the thought and told herself he wasn’t a schemer, nor would he ever resort to emotional bribery to get what he wanted.

Last night was just what it was—a wonderful night to be grateful for and remembered fondly.

Do you trust Me?

I want to. I really do. If only I could keep my faith in front of me like a shield and use it to protect myself from feelings of frustration and anger.

“About this new job of yours,” she said now, hoping he would be as talkative as last night. “You haven’t told me much about it. Will you have more responsibilities than you do now?”

“Not more, just different. I’ll have people working under me, doing what I have been doing.”

One question. One answer. So far, so good. “You mean the traveling?”

She saw him nod in her mirror, then check his watch. “Yes, we’d better hurry.”

She began applying her eye makeup. She could hear Martin straightening things up behind her. “Are you saying that your traveling days are over?”

“Not entirely. I’ll still be required to make an occasional trip, but not more than two or three times a year.”

“Do you think you’ll be happy working in an office, day in and day out?”

“I’m tired of living out of a suitcase and eating hotel food. I can’t wait to have my own office with a desk and file cabinet where I can put things away at the end of the day. But even more than that, I can’t wait to come home to my own house and my own bed.”

In all the years he’d been traveling, he’d never complained or mentioned wanting something different than what he had.

“The grass is always greener on the other side, Martin. What if you don’t like working in an office? Can you go back out on the road?”

Watching him in her mirror, she saw him stop what he was doing and stare at the wall.

“No,” he said after what seemed like a very long time. “There’s no going back.”

“Why not?”

He shook his head. “It’s just not an option.”

Andy opened her mouth to tell him that wasn’t any kind of an answer but thought better of it. He’d just raised a blank wall, which told her there was something he didn’t want her to know.

If she wanted their conversation to continue, she would have to content herself with the answer he’d given her and move on.

“You were right,” she said, throwing him a smile over her shoulder. “I had fun yesterday with Suzanne.”

“Did you see anything you liked?” He sat on the bed.

“There was one possible condo, but I didn’t like the area much. It had a price tag of over a million dollars. Have you researched the housing prices?”

“Some. I’ve been checking out those real estate magazines and looking online at www.realtor.com.”

She heard the zipper of his toiletry kit open, and she caught a glimpse of him taking a pill out of a small brown container and putting it in his mouth.

“Do you have a headache?”

“Huh?” He twisted around to look at her. “No, I … ” The phone rang and interrupted whatever he’d been going to say. “Hello? Good morning, Suzanne.” Andy watched him in the mirror. “Oh, okay. Of course, I understand. No, my wife is leaving early this afternoon for home.” Holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he
zipped his toiletry kit and put it into his weekender. “Sure, she’s right here.”

Finished with her makeup, Andy stood up, slipped into her shoes, then walked across the room and took the phone. “Hi, Suzanne.” She listened while the woman repeated what she’d told Martin. A family crisis, she explained. Nothing serious. “No problem, really. Besides, I didn’t really see anything yesterday that was worth further discussion.” She saw a look of disappointment cross her husband’s face, but she knew that would change with her next words. “But I’d be happy to look at anything else you come up with. You can e-mail me the listing information, and if I see anything I like, I’ll get right back to you.” Martin’s eyes widened. “Yes, thanks. Bye.” She hung up and waited for Martin to say something.

“Does that mean that you’ve reconsidered?”

Andy sat down on the bed next to her husband. “That means that I’m open to discussion if you are.”
Come on, Martin, work with me.
She saw his eyes narrow but was encouraged when he didn’t get up. “Yesterday Suzanne showed me listings that ranged from a million to two million dollars. I’m sure she wouldn’t waste her time showing me properties that weren’t in the price range you gave her. I know what your salary is now, and while generous, it isn’t enough to buy a milliondollar-plus home.”

She could literally hear him changing gears. “I told you not to worry, that AES is giving me a big raise and bonuses.”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me how much of a raise or the amount of the bonuses. Is there a reason you don’t want me to know?”
If that isn’t laying it on the line, I don’t know what is.

“Of course not.” He looked down, his expression contrite. For a moment it seemed he would continue to keep his secret. Then he looked up and said, “The raise is eighty thousand a year with two
fifty-thousand-dollar bonuses, besides moving expenses and housing assistance.”

Andy smiled. “Wow. I’m impressed. They must have big plans for you.”

He smiled back. “They really liked my proposals to boost sales.”

Andy nodded as if she knew what he was talking about. Another secret? “Whatever it was, it must have really been something for them to give you such a big raise.” She was careful to avoid sounding sarcastic. This walking on eggshells was for the birds, but it was working.

“I know I told you, Andy,” he said, gazing at her as though she’d lost her mind, “that they offered a cash incentive.”

Andy shook her head. “No. You never mentioned anything like that to me.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

He exhaled, shook his head. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I meant to tell you—both things—but I guess it slipped my mind.

Right!
She got up and busied herself with packing her suitcase. She needed a moment to remind herself to trust in God to help her and to not let Martin’s inconsiderate behavior and lame excuses get the best of her.
Help me, Lord. Help me say and do the right things. I don’t want to end this trip in an argument.

“Let’s go eat,” she said.

All through brunch, it was as if Andy and Martin agreed to keep the conversation light. They talked about the artwork of food, the ice sculptures, the glory of the arched glass ceiling and crystal chandeliers. But even the harp music failed to calm the raging argument in her mind.