A Perfect Marriage (21 page)

"Thank you." Naturally she was pleased at the compliment, and its obvious sincerity, but the look in his eyes warned her that perhaps this evening wasn't going to be all business.

The waiter presented the wine list, and Roland turned his attention to it, asking Celine if she had any preference and conferring with the waiter before ordering a white wine.

"When will you be moving into your house?" Celine asked after they had chosen their meal.

"Next weekend, I thought. It's only a matter of clothes, some books and records, and a few bits and pieces. You've made it virtually ready to walk into." Roland was twirling the wine glass in his fingers. "I'll have the boys, then. They're keen to sleep in their new rooms."

Celine smiled. She'd met the two boys to discuss with them what kind of decor they wanted for their bedrooms. "They're nice kids," she said. "I liked them."

"You don't have children, do you?" he asked.

Celine shook her head. "Perhaps it's just as well."

"Because of your marriage break-up?"
When she nodded, he said, "I understand, but I wouldn't be without my two for anything in the world. At least something good came of my marriage, even though the relationship didn't survive."

Celine wondered if having Max's child would have helped her to cope with his defection. Or if they'd had a family, would he have left at all? Shaking away the thought, she picked up her wine and said lightly, "To your new home."

Roland smiled, lifting his glass, too, but his eyes were shrewd and kind.
Too kind, perhaps.
Returning her glass
to
 
the
table, Celine said, "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

He gave her a slight, wry smile and said, "I mentioned to you that I was buying an office block, didn't I? The whole place needs refurbishing, and I hope you'll be interested in designing the interior."

"I'd love to try," Celiac said. "How big is it, and what did you have in mind?"

The subject occupied them throughout the leisurely meal. By the time they'd finished she had a fair idea of the magnitude of the task he'd asked her to undertake. "But I'll have to see the place before I can come up with specific suggestions."

"Of course.
The sooner the better.
I've only been waiting for you to finish my house. Will Monday do?"

"I'll look forward to it."

He ordered coffee, and as he spooned sugar into his, he said, "The boys took a liking to you, and I think they'd want to thank you personally for doing up their rooms to their taste. Would you happen to be free for lunch next Sunday? En famille,
" he
added. "I make a great salad, and my grilled T-bones are the best in town, the kids tell me."

Celine hesitated as he replaced the sugar spoon and looked at her expectantly. "I don't know," she said. "It's kind of you, but it's a family occasion, moving in."

"And you're not sure what you might be getting into."

Celine shrugged a little, casting him an apologetic look.

"I know you're still working through your separation," he told her, "and you're wary of starting any new relationship too soon. You're wise," he added bluntly. "When my wife and I split up I was so darned hurt and angry and insecure I plunged straight into an affair with a woman who was in the same boat, only it didn't last. Both of us had a lot of baggage to unload before we could establish a successful new relationship. But I'm over that stage now. I'm lonely and I'd like to share my life again with someone, but not just anyone. The minute I saw you at the Chatswoods' party, I knew you weren't just anyone."

  
 
Celine stiffened, and he said, "I'm not going to try to push things or hurry them up, because I know you're not ready to look at anyone else yet. But when you are I'd like to be around where you can see me."

Cautiously, she asked, "Is that why you've hired me to refurbish your office block?"

He looked surprised,
then
laughed. "Celine, I'm a businessman. I can't afford to make gestures like that, believe me! No, I need a good job done on this project, and I believe you're the one to do it. The other-that's a personal matter, and whatever happens I'm not about to start pressuring you with promises of work, or threats of withdrawing it. Have I ever given you the impression that I might?"

Relieved, she said, "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you would."

"Okay, I can't blame you for checking, when I've made my personal interest crystal-clear-I hope?"

Celine nodded. "Roland," she said carefully, "I'm really- grateful. But I can't imagine-"

"That's okay. I know you can't right now.
Maybe some day, and maybe not.
I just want you to know.
And now, how about lunch on Sunday?"
He smiled at her, the skin about his eyes and mouth crinkling in a disarming way.

"Well-yes, I'm free," she said. "Thanks. I'll look forward to seeing the boys again. Can I bring a salad, or a sweet?"

"If you bring a sweet the boys will be your slaves forever. I should warn you-be prepared for some very unsubtle matchmaking."

Celine laughed. "I guess I can stand it."

She didn't have to, though. The boys, perhaps warned by their father, behaved impeccably, and Celine had a very pleasant afternoon. She hadn't realised how circumscribed her life had become since their friends had learned that she and Max were no longer a couple. The book group discussions and committee meetings, badminton and bridge-her solo activities-continued as before, but invitations to par
 
ties and other social occasions had dwindled since she'd become that social spare wheel, a lone woman.

Max's car was on the drive when she got home and parked hers in the big garage. For a few moments she didn't get out. It was more than two weeks since the fiery confrontation in their bedroom had led to that unforeseen, passionate conclusion. Her cheeks burned at the memory. One letter had arrived for him and she'd readdressed it to his flat. Otherwise they'd had no contact at all. For a day or two she had nursed a wild hope. But as the week slipped by, and then another, she had to concede that the episode had made no difference to Max. He wasn't going to turn from Kate to her.

He was in the lounge talking to Ted. Celine stopped in the doorway and Ted looked up, saying, "Ah, you're back! Had a nice .time?"

"Lovely, thank you. Hello, Max."

He stood up. With one swift glance he took in her blue cotton shirt and slim-fitting jeans, returning to her face, almost bare of makeup, and the casually tied scarf that held her hair back. "Ted asked me to do the conveyancing on the sale of his house," he said. "We've just been talking about his plans."

"I see." Since Ted had asked Max to do the legal work when he and Dora had bought their property, it was only sensible that he'd handle this deal, too. And it was like Max to offer to come round and talk about it, rather than ask Ted to trek into his office in the city. "Dad made you some tea?" The tray holding a plate of biscuits, a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar, and the empty cups and saucers on the floor told her he had. Advancing into the room, she said, "I'll take those away."

Max forestalled her, stacking the crockery on the tray.

Celine expected him to hand it to her, but instead he picked it up and headed for the kitchen. She followed him, and as he placed the tray on the table by a half-emptied cellophane pack of biscuits, she said, "I could have carried it myself."

"They're not your dishes," he said. "I'll do them if you like."

"A couple of cups!"
She scooped them up and opened the dishwasher, inserting them in the rack. When she turned, he was putting the milk away in the fridge. It was so long since she'd seen him in this room that it was like having a stranger here, and yet he knew his way around it almost as well as she did. Finding an airtight tin, she began carefully transferring the biscuits into it.

"Ted said you'd made meringues yesterday," Max told her, retrieving the last biscuit before she removed it from the plate, "but he couldn't find the evidence. We had to make do with these." He bit into the biscuit.

"You seem to be enjoying them, anyway. Dad had some of the meringues last night. I took the rest with me as a contribution towards lunch."

"Enjoy yourself?" He popped the remainder of the biscuit into his mouth.

"Very much."
She hadn't exactly told Ted who she was lunching with, just that she'd be out.

"You looked very relaxed when you came in." "Did I?"

"Now you're tensing up. Is it me?"

"I suppose,"
she
said, "it's the situation. I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No, of course not.
Finish your talk with Dad-" "We've finished. My mother says she's worried about you."

Nancy? "She hasn't even seen me lately." "That's what she's worried about."

"I've been busy. I've just completed a commission." "That's good. Will you have time for your friends now?" "I have time for my friends. It's your family that I..:" Into the pause he said, "That you don't want in your life?"

"I told you-"

"I couldn't believe you really meant that. Surely you're cutting off your nose to spite your face?
And hurting your oldest friends in the process."

"You started this, Max. So don't complain-and don't blame me-when the fall-out affects people you love."

His mouth went grim, and he shoved a hand into one of his pockets, staring fiercely at the empty plate on the table. "All right," he said at last. "I guess I deserved that."

She picked up the plate and went to tuck it in the dishwasher with the cups and saucers.

"That must have been some lunch," Max drawled. "Was it a picnic?"

"No." She closed the machine and turned a puzzled gaze to him. "Why?"

The smile on his face didn't look real. "I just wondered what sort of lunch it was that left you with a grass stain on the seat of your pants, and-" he stepped over to her and she felt his fingers in her hair "-hay in your hair."

"It isn't hay," she said as he showed her the withered bit of vegetation in his fingers. "Grass clippings, I suppose."

"Grass clippings?"

"I must have got it playing rounders with the boys."

"The boys?"
Max's brows shot up.

"Roland's two boys."
After lunch the four of them had taken a bat and ball to a nearby park and played for about an hour. "I slipped making home base."

"Roland Jackson? I didn't know you two were that close."

About to deny it, she changed her mind. Instead she said, "He's given me another commission-a big one, designing the decor for an office block:'

After a short silence Max said, "Congratulations."

"It should be worth a good deal of money. I don't need you to pay the bills anymore, Max."

"Your father tells me he's moving out. You won't have his contribution then."

 
68

"Nor his expenses," Celine pointed out. "For that matter," she added, "I won't need this big house. Perhaps I should look for something smaller."

"There's no hurry," Max said curtly. "Give yourself some time. I thought you were fond of this place. You put a lot of effort into it."

"I put the effort into it for us. It was all done with your taste in mind."

"Mine?
Ours, surely?"

"Exactly.
There isn't any `us' or `ours' anymore. You've seen to that. I could fix up a new place just to please myself."

"If that's what you want," he said. "Still, don't rush into anything. And let me have a look at the legal angles." "Thanks."

"I told Ted to contact me when he's moving, and I'll help with the heavy stuff."

"I'm sure we could manage. There's not a lot of furniture to move."

"Your father won't want you trying to shift it, and he's not strong enough anymore. He could hurt himself."

She supposed he was right.
If her brothers had been here ... but they weren't.
"I'm sure he's grateful for the offer," she said.

"You'll be alone. Will it bother you?"

"It's not your worry." Some demon urging her on, she added, "I may not be alone for long."

His head gave a little jerk. "What?"

"Just thinking aloud.
If I am, it'll be from choice. I certainly don't need to be."

She seemed to have disconcerted him. "No, I suppose not. You told me you weren't sleeping with Jackson."

Celine hoped her smile was enigmatic. "It was true."

"Was?" She saw his jaw clench. He swung around and marched to the door as if he could no longer bear to be in the same room as her. But when he reached it, he turned. "I hope you know what you're doing," he said. "It's not just your way of getting back at me, is it?"

"I like Roland, very much. He's a super person and a good father. And he understands how I feel."

"You like him? Is that enough for you to go to bed with him?"

"It was enough for me to go to bed with you," she reminded him.

"I wanted to marry you."

"So does Roland
: "
He'd practically told her it was in his mind, even if the words remained unspoken.

That brought him up short. "It's gone that far?"

Celine shrugged. "Maybe what happened last time you and I... met ... made me realise what I was missing."

"Sex."
His tone was contemptuous. "You and I had a lot more than that, Celine."

Oh, we did!
she
thought. But it was Max who had carelessly thrown it all away. "Whatever we had wasn't enough for you," she reminded him.

She could see him fighting the urge to say something more. He quelled it, his mouth tight,
his
jaw rigid. "I'll go and say goodbye to your father," he said at last.

She had been childish, Celine supposed. There had been no reason to let Max think that she was sleeping with another man except to salve her pride.
Tit for tat.
There was some satisfaction in his obvious displeasure, but that was only a dog-in-the-manger reaction. It didn't mean that he wanted her himself.