"Two p.m. Can I do something for you, Mr. Cooper?" Jimmy asked.
"Oh no thanks. I'll see Pete tomorrow." The bachelor life Ferris had been leading over the past month was getting to him. "I'll make it my business to get home earlier tomorrow evening."
"They sure do keep you working long hours in the T.V. business." Jimmy closed the elevator gate behind Ferris. "Yes sir, it's a hard life!"
It was two-thirty a.m. Ferris was glad to be home. He could have stayed overnight at the girl's place but he liked to wake up in his own bed. Also, he wanted a change of clothes. Also there were things to take care of so that the apartment would be in good order for his wife's return. "First thing, I'll get this lock fixed, then I'll order groceries..."
The moment the door was open, something struck Ferris as strange. There was a different smell in the air. A perfume? Then he dropped his keys into the pewter plate on the foyer table and saw Marian's key ring.
"It can't be!" But it could be, it had to be — her coat was there on one of the brass hooks. Her hat and scarf were on the overhead shelf. He felt ill, almost as if he were going to pass out.
Somewhat unsteadily, Ferris found his way to a living room chair. "What can I tell her...? She must have been wondering where I was... What can I say...? How can I explain...?" Ferris could not get his brain to function.
He put his head in his hands.
"God dammit, Andrea is nothing to me! I can't let something like this hurt Marian. I'll have to tell her I've been with a client at a meeting!"
He forced himself to go over the possibilities — Marian might have phoned his office, found out that he'd taken off work at four that afternoon. Charles didn't know specifically about Andrea but he had been making innuendos — "Variety's the spice of life, when the cat's away, you might as well play, luv."
"Damn Charles Riche." The man's sexual preferences were his own business, but Charles knew him since his bachelor days. Charles was certainly capable of telling Marian something out of spite. "I'll have to invent something. I'll tell Marian I was with an investor — someone Charles doesn't know about." Ferris could feel himself sweating profusely.
In the dark bedroom, he could just barely make out her sleeping form. He closed the bathroom door gently, made all of his sleep preparations as quietly as possible.
"I love her, God, I love her! I love her..." Ferris kept saying it over and over to himself as if repeating it would put a protective cocoon of love around Marian, keep her from ever knowing he had been so recently unfaithful.
When Ferris woke the sleeping Marian with a kiss, her arms reached up for him.
"Oh Ferris darling, I meant to surprise you and then when you weren't home I got so nervous. I was awful, like a detective."
"Shh, shh, " he whispered, to soothe her.
"You would have been furious with me for being so suspicious."
"Shhh, my darling." He brushed back the wisps of hair.
"Ferris I missed you so much. I waited all day..."
Ferris embraced her.
Head nestled against his cheek, she was still more asleep than awake. "It's a new client isn't it?"
"Something rather unexpected did come up..." Ferris did not want to lie.
"And you couldn't tell me, because it came up last minute. I've been so worried, ever since I came in the front door, everything has seemed so strange!" Marian snuggled in, closed her eyes. "I was going to telephone Charles and your family and..." His hand stroking her hair made her forget what she was going to say. "Aren't we lucky, a new client is just what you and Charles need and I've got my new client!"
Marian was drifting, the bed-sheets were smooth, no longer scratchy. She was in a creamy vanilla ice cream world where everything was smooth white and peaceful. "I wanted to surprise you, I bought a nightgown... Oh, how lovely it is, with your arms around me," Marian murmured as she was waltzing and floating off into sleep.
"Sweet dreams my darling," Ferris said, kissing Marian's forehead and turning out the light.
++++++++++
Chapter
7
"Is it morning?" Marian opened her eyes, saw that it was, saw that Ferris was dressed, he had brought her coffee and toast on a tray. "My goodness, where are you off to in such a rush?"
"I've got to dash, darling," Ferris said, brushing her cheek with a kiss.
"But Darling — " Marian was hugging him, but he was gently disengaging himself. "We haven't even said 'hello' or had a chance to talk."
"I should be finished by six."
"Wonderful, I'll fix us a fantastic supper, all your favorite things."
Ferris buttoned his jacket, and picked up his briefcase. "Sounds great! See you later darling!" He blew her a kiss and was out the door before Marian could say another word.
When Marian finally got up, it was afternoon. She slipped into an impractical kimono dress which was silky soft and a pleasure to wear. She was in
that
kind of mood.
Mamma said, "Sweetheart, it's good to have you back," and then she was off onto
the
subject. "Ralph is too pale. I just this minute got off the phone with Dr. Benedict. I want him to arrange sun lamp treatments. I made him promise to do a blood count because Ralph may be anemic."
Marian could hear the television, knew Mamma was sitting in her bedroom on her chaise lounge, fully dressed in slacks, blouse, sweater that matched, wearing her fabulous pearls and wedding diamonds.
Life was on a two week cycle for Hannah Melnik because every two weeks she visited her son Ralph. On the drive home, the Down Cycle would begin — three or four days when Aunt Paula and Marian could get through, but to the rest of the world Hannah was not at home. Mamma called them her
headache
days — she stayed in bed, barely ate, didn't even turn on the television. Usually around the fifth day she'd start writing letters and making phone calls — that was the beginning of the Up Cycle. She'd begin dressing. Though Hannah rarely went out, each day she wore a different outfit for supervising the maid, watching T.V, and keeping in touch with the two dozen other mothers who had problem children, like Ralph.
" — and then, I told the Doctor to take Ralph off the Thorazine and give him B-5 and more B-6," Hannah was explaining. Through her network of other mothers, she kept herself up-to-date on all the latest scientific advances. "And his eyes are puffy," Mamma was saying.
During the last visit she'd made to the upstate institution, Marian noticed that her brother was sluggish and putting on a little weight, but she didn't like to aid and abet Mamma's worry-warting. "Mamma dear, I've got chores to do, why don't we come over for dinner on Saturday?"
"I know you're busy darling but if you could just phone the Doctor and remind him about the sun lamp and the Thorazine."
"Mamma, he never ignores your suggestions. Let Dr. Benedict do the blood count. We'll phone him the beginning of next week." The desk clock was warning Marian if she wanted to accomplish anything special as a cook she had to get started.
Marian phoned in a grocery list.
It was fun, getting ready to cook a special dinner, cleaning up the broken wine bottle, re-arranging shelves, even putting away the tin of fresh coffee — "Maybe Ferris likes fresh coffee, I must remember to ask him." The portable TV was playing out a tense marital drama like Muzak in the background. "While I'm waiting for the delivery boy, I'll chat with Elena."
Marian's assistant was bursting with news.
"You're back? You'll never guess what happened — just a second ago, I got back from a lunch date with the big bad wolf," Elena said.
"Wexler — oh dear, what does he want now?" Their star client was always giving them a hard time.
"More attention from you and me, he feels you're neglecting him. The
Wexler Art Institute
had only two hundred visitors last week — the usual complaints — but I comforted Old Wex, told him about the idea we have for the poster so he's happy for the moment. I had Oysters Rockefeller so I'm happy, and speaking of happiness,
American Biological Surveys
got their Ford grant, Mari. What a time we've been having, I had to work overtime two nights last week. And wouldn't you know — I'm in love — I met this fantastic man!"
"I knew something was up," Marian said. She'd noticed that Elena seemed more crackling, more sparkling than usual.
"He's liberated me, body and soul, I'm a changed woman, Mari. You should see me, I've got on a new red knit suit, no bra, no girdle. No hair clip, and no makeup! Just a touch of lipstick — Dennis wants me to be 'au naturel'... Mari, for goodness sake, how are you?"
"Fine, it's good to be back. You sound terrific." Marian's enthusiasm was genuine. With mahogany red hair, bronze skin, full bosom, tiny waist, Elena was more than averagely good-looking. 'Au naturel' was undoubtedly spectacular. "Your Dennis sounds like quite a man."
"Terribly handsome,
and
intellectual — being with him is a revelation, Mari. Of course my shrink feels I'm building my usual fantasies but this time it's true love, Mari!"
"That's wonderful, but go slow, just remember what happened with Victor." Marian couldn't help but remember the "true love" and the disastrous ending of the Victor love-story.
"Victor was a brute, Dennis is an utter angel. When are you coming in to the office? I've got a stack of documents from the
Somerset
people on that Retirement Home project, they want your reaction to it. And I've got the Wexler layout for you to look at and — my goodness Mari, you haven't even told me what happened with the California club ladies?"
"How could I?" Marian said, and they both started laughing. Only when the buzzer on the service door signaled, did the telephone conference adjourn.
"Have a gorgeous evening with that beautiful man of yours, Mari."
Her assistant made it sound slightly wicked, but that was Elena — teasing, but never overstepping the boundaries. "I will," Marian replied crisply, but she was smiling softly to herself.
By four o'clock the table was set — candlesticks, silver, linen napkins, even a bit of incense in a dish that would give the dining room a special fragrance.
The television had been muttering all afternoon. Marian started to turn it off just as the soap opera husband was embracing a young girl. She waited for them to finish their kiss before she pushed the Off button.
It was as if time had stopped and Marian was somewhere between west coast and east. She had not yet completely returned to being either Mrs. Ferris Cooper or Mari, the New York executive.
She picked out her slinkiest at-home pajamas, Ferris liked them, they were suitable for wearing out in the world as well as at home — lavender silk jersey, full-length billowing pants with matching Russian style over-blouse that was slit rather low in front but tied with a braided cord — all quite discreet yet providing an occasional flicker of skin, a modest but tantalizing peek.
"Ferris?" Marian called out, as she heard a sound from the outside hallway. It wasn't Ferris but the clock said "soon it would be." How tremulous and excited she was, waiting for husband and lover, for food and love and conversation. She could hardly wait to tell him about what she'd accomplished in California. And there were so many things Marian wanted to know, about what had been happening to Ferris while she'd been away.
++++++++++
Chapter
8
Ferris brought flowers and his partner Charles.
"Dear heart, aren't you the one!" Charles gave Marian a kiss on the lips. "I never expected to see you in anything so trendy! Let me see the back!"
Marian whirled around, needing a quick second to revise her initial reaction of dismay.
"She's gorgeous, isn't she?" Ferris brushed Marian's cheek with a kiss.
"So slinky and sexy!" Charles lightly flicked the cord on her blouse. "Maybe she'll get you into leather jeans one of these days, Ferris!"
"Not very likely!" Ferris sniffed appreciatively. "And smell what she's fixed for our dinner!"
"I don't think your wife was planning on dinner for three," Charles said with a sly grin.
"Marian doesn't mind. We're not newlyweds, after all." Ferris put his arm around Marian's waist as the three of them walked to the kitchen to get ice for their drinks and a vase for the flowers.
Ferris and Charles were in a jovial mood. As they were finishing the first martini, Marian realized the conversation was a continuation of a discussion they'd been having at the office, about a soup commercial, on which they were preparing a bid.
During the appetizer and casserole, although the men took time to cast compliments in the direction of the Cook, they continued solving their
Soup
problems.
"Soup is so dull — I can't identify with soup," Charles said.
"But Charles, I'm in the middle of editing the
Florida
Oranges
footage. Soup is going to have to be your baby."