Seems Like Old Times (27 page)

"Lee, glad to have you back on board." Jake
Metcalf, the general manager of the Cable American Broadcasting Network news
department, assumed anyone he personally telephoned had to be important enough
to recognize his voice. Lee recognized it immediately.

"Thank you. It's good to be back."

"I’d like to talk to you about a few things. Could
you come to my office in, shall we say, a half hour?"

Lee's smile was smug. She knew exactly what he wanted to
talk about. "We say, that'll be just fine, Jake."

o0o

"What do you mean you're going to turn down Nighttime
News?" Bruce dropped the fork that held a morsel of poached salmon onto
his plate. The other diners in The Russian Tearoom glanced at their table.
"That was the perfect opportunity for you."

"Metcalf made me a better offer. And I'm happy at
Evening
Newscene
."

"That job goes nowhere. It's nothing but a simple
news show. We need better than that."

"It's on a national network."

"Tawdry," he said with a sneer.

She couldn’t believe him.
"Tawdry?
You think my job is tawdry?
As if Nighttime News isn't?"

His face was nearly against hers. "I'm thinking of
your future, Lee.
Of
our
future."
He was
all but scolding her as if she were a child. "How could you make such a
decision without consulting me first?"

"Bruce, we’re talking about
my
job,
my
career."

He sat back, his cheeks streaked with red. "Well,
pardon me. I see I’m put in my place. I was simply saying that if I were you,
I’d jump at the chance to do NN. It beats EN in the ratings. You know everyone
talks about it. You'd have it made."

 "I won't argue about it, Bruce. I like my job.
I'm happy there."

His mouth wrinkled in disgust. "What's all this
happiness business? It sounds like touchy feely California claptrap if you ask
me. Maybe you should"--he wriggled his fingers--"channel with your
aura to get a holistic reading on your future life?"

"Very funny."
She took
another bite of scallops. Bruce had been nagging her since she first learned
about the Nighttime News offer to make the switch. Her heart simply wasn't in
it.

He placed his hand on hers, lightly stroking it with his
fingers. "Lee, darling, where's your sense? You've always been the
practical
one,
the one who could look at all sides and
then coolly--some might say coldly--make the right assessment to get ahead. It
was always one of the things I admired about you. My God, Lee, I've used you as
a model. I just don't understand what's going on. Talk to me, darling. Have I
done something to offend you?"

She pushed away the plate, her appetite gone. "You
haven’t done anything, Bruce. It’s not you--it’s me." She studied him for
some acceptance, some understanding. Nothing but confusion showed in his face.
What did she expect? He was so much like her--ambitious, driven and ultimately
self-serving. They saw themselves as a team. But she had suddenly changed the
rules. "I need time.
Time to sort out
everything--including us."

He was stricken.
"Us?
I
don't--"

"I'm sorry, I truly am. I know it doesn’t look that
way, but I am trying to be fair to you, and to me."

"You’re damned right it doesn’t look that way! Are
you saying you don't love me anymore? Is that why I haven't been able to even
touch you since you've been back? What happened in Miwok, Lee?"

She felt terrible. He’d always been good to her--exactly
what she thought she wanted. She looked at his movie-star perfect face and
hair, his expensive clothes and watch, the manicured nails, the fashionably
reed-slim body, and the politically-savvy wheeling-and-dealing nature that used
to intrigue and interest her. In a sense, she and Bruce had been made in each
other's image, and had been perfect together. Just like she’d been perfectly
matched to Ken Walters and even--God help her--
Stompin
’
Steve Peters.

Was it love she had felt for Bruce, or was he the type of
man she’d been taught she should have to move ahead in life, to fulfill her
ambition? Good God! Was she really so callus?

"Something did happen in Miwok, Bruce. I came
face-to-face with a part of myself I hadn't known was still there. And I don't
know what to do about it."

He lightly traced his finger along her jaw. "Can I
help?"

"The only
one
who can help
me in this, is me. Give me time. Give me distance."

He nodded. Big blue eyes searched hers, and the hurt in
them went straight to her heart.

On Saturday night, Lee agreed to accompany Bruce to a
party. He said it wouldn’t be fair for him to go alone, and that she needed to
be seen there. It was just a little get together for some dear friends, given
by Sissy Springfield. Bruce rented a limousine to bring them the seven blocks
to the Springfield townhouse. Lee spent a king's ransom on a new Donna Karan
outfit, a black sheath with a see through, black lace, long sleeved over blouse
from her neck to the top of her
bustline
where the
black voile began.

"All your friends will be so happy to see you,"
Bruce commented as they sat in the limo, sipping champagne. It was given as an
amenity to compensate for the exorbitant cost for a seven-block ride.

Lee didn’t respond. She couldn't exactly picture the other
guests falling over themselves with joy. She had been too busy working to spend
time cultivating friendships. Her so-called friends tended to be business
associates and colleagues, scarcely bosom-buddies. She rarely socialized with
women, preferring the company of men. Women, she discovered, considered her too
cold and aloof. With men, though, she donned an unapproachable demeanor, making
sure it was clear to them she wasn’t one to sleep around.

He covered her hand with his,
then
raised it to kiss her fingers. She allowed it to remain. She had been in a
malaise ever since returning from Miwok. Nothing seemed to matter much to her
anymore.

She floated into the party, as if watching her body from
afar. Sissy swooped down on her, gave her a hug and an air-kiss,
then
pulled her into the crowd of at least two hundred
people. But then Sissy was renowned for her parties, so when Sissy said it
would be a little intimate thing, everyone knew it would be the largest, most
formal "little intimate" party anyone had ever been to before. Sissy
made a big splash with everything she did. She deposited Lee in front of the
assistant to the deputy ambassador from Gambia,
then
flew away again, cawing at the newest guests to step into the doorway.

Lee and the tall African man stared at each other. She
smiled. He smiled back. "I watch you on TV every night," he said.

"Thank you. I don't believe we've ever done a story
on Gambia yet."

"Good. That means we're keeping out of trouble."
His accent was vaguely British and he smiled broadly.

"Except for the weapons deal with China," she
murmured,
then
sipped her champagne. "Our
government will be most unhappy when they hear about it."

He gawked at her, shifting from foot to foot, then cleared
his throat. "I have no idea about that."

"Oh really?" she asked sweetly.

His face darkened and a small bead of perspiration
appeared on his upper lip. "Would you like more champagne, Miss
Reynolds?"

"Why not?
If you don't make
it back here in this crowd, I’ll understand."

She watched him disappear. The poor fellow must be new to
this game; that was far too easy. But now she knew the rumors she’d heard were
all true.
Very interesting.
She turned and walked
toward the windows with their breath taking view of Manhattan.

"How beautiful."

She glanced over her shoulder at the stranger staring
intently at her. His eyes were as gray as his hair, and he had the
Shake'n'Bake
skin tone of someone who spends a lot of time
in a tanning salon, rotating like a too white chicken on a spit. "Is
it?" she asked.

"Not it, you."

Disappointed, she turned again to the view. "Clichés
are so boring."

"Even clichés can be true."

She didn't answer.

"I'm Chandler Hastings." His back was so
straight he appeared skewered, and he had to tuck in his chin to avoid staring
at the ceiling. "I know you're Lee Reynolds. I'd recognize you
anywhere."

"Perhaps I merely resemble her."

"That's possible." He turned shoulder to
shoulder with her and also looked out the window, making her mind flip flop to
another time when she stood just this way with another man. "Lee Reynolds
probably doesn't bother to look at the scenery anymore," he said.
"She must be a very busy lady. So what do you see, lovely stranger, when
you gaze out these windows?"

She moved forward, resting her palms on the sill and she
studied the Manhattan scene so long he must have imagined she’d forgotten him.
"I feel like I'm sitting inside a cloud," she said, "and far
below, is a place teeming with life that I can't quite reach."

"Aren't we part of that life?" he asked.

"Oh, no.
We're up here.
Observers.
Down there"--she placed her finger on the cold
glass, running it through the mist her breath created--"people are living,
dying, loving.
But not us.
We're above it all,
untouched."

He placed his hand on her shoulder, and ran his fingers
down her arm to her elbow, then back again. "You can be touched,
Lee."

She drew back and gave him a sad, wistful smile. "No,
Chandler, I'm afraid not." She walked away.

"Lee?"

She heard him call, but she kept going.

Three women surrounded Bruce, all oohing and
aahing
over his words. It would have been déclassé for her
to approach him at this point. He was, after all, one of the city's most
eligible bachelors. Maybe that was why they had never set a wedding date
despite their protests of undying love.
That,
or a
more profound, destructive reason.

"Lee, are you all right?"

Pulled out of her reverie, she saw that she'd wandered
into Sissy's library. She spun around to find Melanie standing in the doorway.
She
smiled,
glad to see her best friend again.
Melanie's big green eyes were owlish and her black hair too
curly,
as if she just stepped out of the shower and couldn't control it.
"Melanie, I didn’t know you were coming to this.
How
good to see you."

Her friend's gaze shifted furtively as she walked into the
room. "I'm glad we're alone."

"Alone? Why? What’s up?"

Melanie walked over a row of first editions from the
'twenties and 'thirties. She ran her fingers along the edge of a bookshelf, the
kind of gesture women made checking for dust in the homes of unsuspecting
hostesses. Lee waited, curious at Melanie’s uneasiness.

Melanie glanced from Lee to the floor. "I feel bad
about what happened between Bruce and me. That's what I wanted to say to
you."

A myriad of suspicion rushed through Lee’s mind at
Melanie’s "Bruce and me,’ but she dismissed them as fast as they struck. Melanie
was her friend, Bruce her fiancé...but then that engagement hadn’t stopped her
and Tony. But that was different... or was it? She raised an eyebrow, waiting
for an explanation. "What do you mean?" she asked emotionlessly.

Melanie looked shocked. "He didn’t tell you?"

Lee's back stiffened. "Tell me what?"

"Oh, God, Lee.
I was sure he
would." Melanie twisted her fingers. "I wished I’d kept my big mouth
shut! He was lonely. He missed you terribly and was upset that you weren’t here
to go to a party given by some guy named Baldwin. I met him at
CoCo’s
and got him to take me home. I tried hard to get him
to come inside with me--but he wouldn’t. He was true to you. He was angry, too,
and I was sure he’d told you."

"I see." Lee was quiet, her thoughts only that
Bruce had a chance to do what she did, but he’d been true to her. She felt
worse than ever.

"I was pretty blasted, too, Lee. That’s my only
excuse," Melanie said. "I want you to know what a great guy you’ve
got there. I'm so ashamed. I hope you can forgive me."

Lee just looked at her. "Thank you for telling me
about Bruce. As for forgiveness...it seems a lot is going to have to be given
out around here."

Lee got her jacket from the maid and quietly left the
apartment after telling Sissy she had a headache. The doorman found her a taxi
and in a little while she was back in her apartment.

o0o

"What in the hell is wrong with you? How could you
walk out on me tonight? Do you know how it looked to our friends? Do you? What
will they think?" A blue vein stood out on Bruce's forehead, bisecting it
at an odd angle as he stormed back and forth in front of her sofa.

"I was upset. I wasn’t thinking."

"You
always
think. Image is everything to you,
and you know it."

"I’m sorry. I’d been talking to Melanie."

He flushed. "Did Melanie say something to you about
me?"

"She said you took her home after an evening at
CoCo’s
and--"

"Christ! Lee, listen to me. I was lonely and...
and
, damn it, I was scared."

That threw her. "Scared?
You?"

"Yes, damn you! Don't you think I could tell there
was something going on with you?
That you met someone...an
old friend, or a new one.
I don't know who or what, but I could tell. I
could feel you slipping away from me. I love you, Lee. And that means I know
when you're falling out of love with me."