Dune Road (23 page)

Six months passed, and he found himself at a work dinner. His team had taken a table at a charity benefit, and some clients were coming. Adam found himself sitting next to Elysse, a single girl, who made it quite clear, quite early on, that she was interested.

Later on, after copious amounts of alcohol, he went back to Elysse’s apartment, stunned at how easy this was, stunned that the modern woman would fuck him on the night of meeting him, then wave him off without even giving him her phone number.

It was a wake-up call. He worked, and had the ability to socialize, in a city where the women outnumbered the men to such an extent that there was never any shortage of interested parties. Everywhere he went, he suddenly realized, he saw gorgeous women with not-so-gorgeous men, and if they could do it, well he, in his early forties and still in great shape, could certainly do it too.

It was as if he was a child let loose in a candy store. Never had he known women so forward, so direct, so willing. And adventurous! Those years of sporadic, vanilla sex with Kit disappeared as he indulged every fantasy he had ever had.

His work colleagues would tease him about his voracious appetite, but after all those years of being in the desert, he deserved a little fun. He was, he realizes now, more than a little manic, although a couple of divorced men he knew said they went through the same thing.

“Got to get it out of your system,” one said, slapping him on the back approvingly. “And God knows we deserve it after the wives we had.”

Now, finally, he has got it out of his system. He has a peace that he hadn’t enjoyed for a long time, and is starting to actually date, rather than just take women out for dinner in order to have sex with them later.

He has been seeing a girl in the city for a few weeks. She is cute, but she doesn’t really do it for him, doesn’t really turn him on.

Not in the way that Annabel has turned him on, in the space of just—what? An hour?

Oh God, he groans, please let me forget about her. And downing his Scotch in one gulp, he trudges up the quiet stairs, back to bed.

 

“You look happy.” Robert McClore eyes Kit as she comes into his study to say good morning.

“I am,” she says. “It’s been an extraordinary weekend.”

“Oh yes? ”

She is tempted to tell him the story, but won’t, for two reasons. The first is that she is well aware of the number of people who offer to tell Robert their stories: “You should write a book about it,” they say. “Have
I
got some stories for you! ” Robert always smiles, and listens graciously, but as he’s said to Kit many a time, the stories he tells are his own. Not those of other people.

And the second reason is that telling him about Annabel would be a transgression somehow. She likes the fact that she and Robert are not friends, that they are able to chat and there is a comfort between them, but neither of them shares the intimate details of their own life.

Although now, given Tracy’s burgeoning friendship with him, it is starting to feel a little awkward.

“Just . . . life,” she explains with a smile. “But good.”

“Excellent,” he says. “And getting better, I suspect. Something arrived for you.”

“For me? Here? ”

“Yes. It’s on your desk.”

Kit leaves and goes into her own office, and on her desk is a huge bouquet of creamy white roses. She gasps, in delight, and pulls out the card.

Steve. So much has happened in such a short space of time, she has forgotten about Steve entirely, forgotten that just days ago she was planning to seduce him, but that was before she discovered her sister, before her life changed immeasurably.

A warm glow spreads through her as she sits down in the chair and studies the note. How lovely. And how long has it been since anyone has thought to send her flowers?

She picks up the phone and calls Charlie.

“I am sitting at my desk with the most beautiful bouquet of roses that you clearly made for me, from Steve.”

“I’m so glad you like them! He asked me if I knew your favorites.”

“How did he even know to call you? ”

“He asked Tracy if she knew of any good florists.”

“Well, they’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. He sounds sexy.”

“I haven’t even thought about him, it’s been so crazy these last few days. But I’m thinking about him now.” Kit laughs, then recovers quickly. “But you. How are you? How are you feeling today? ”

“Terrible.” Charlie sighs. “And Keith’s a mess. He seems to be paralyzed with fear, so not only am I working and running the floral business, I’m now also trying desperately to salvage whatever’s left.”

“There is something left, then? ”

“No. Not really. But I’ve left messages with the bank. I’ve heard that banks will consider doing deals, writing off some of the loan if you can just get the house sold. To be honest, Kit, I’m just trying to avoid a foreclosure. I realize we’re walking away with nothing and I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do, but to have our credit destroyed will make it all so much worse.”

“I wish there was something I could do.”

“Me too. Right now I’m just making phone calls and praying to God. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Do the kids know? ”

“No. I don’t want to tell them anything until I have to.”

“But . . . if there really is nothing left, where will you go? ”

“We’ll have to move in with my parents, I guess. Or Keith’s, although, to be honest, I’d rather stick needles in my eyes. But what choice do we have? I’ll have to give up my own business, because I can’t afford a space, so I’ll have to find a job, and so will Keith.”

“But . . . your parents are in New Jersey.” Kit gasps. “You’d leave Highfield? ”

“Not unless we have to, but, Kit, right now there doesn’t seem to be a choice, and I’m just grateful my parents are still around and there’d be room for us.”

“Oh Jesus, Charlie,” Kit says. “It’s just awful.”

“I know. I feel like everyone knows, too.”

“But they don’t. How can they? ”

“The financial world is very small. Everyone knows everyone. Someone already asked me, at yoga, if everything was okay because they’d heard Keith’s company was in trouble.”

“That doesn’t mean they know anything.”

“I guess. You know what else was weird? ”

“What? ”

“Tracy. I don’t know whether this was because Keith was obviously not interested in investing in her business idea, but she was really weird with me today.”

“Really? Weird, how? ”

“Just . . . off. I tried asking her about Robert and what was going on, and, I swear, she just cut me off. Also, she had a black eye.”

“
What?
How did she get a black eye? ”

“She said she walked into a closet door when she was going to the bathroom in the middle of the night.”

“Have you ever walked into a closet door, at nighttime or any other time? ”

“No.”

“Me neither. Did you think she was telling the truth? ”

“No. It totally felt like she was hiding something.”

“But what? How the hell could she have gotten a black eye? You’re right. That is weird.”

“Damn. That’s my other line. Listen, Kit, promise me you won’t say anything to anyone about our financial stuff.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t ever do that.”

“I know. Thank you, sweetie. I love you and I’ll talk to you later. Gotta go.”

 

Charlie clicks over to the other line. “Hello? ”

“Charlie? It’s Alice.” Her clipped English accent is unmistakable.

“Hi! How are you? ”

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you? ”

“Okay.”

“Listen, I hope this isn’t inappropriate to call you, but I was wondering what your take is on Saturday night.”

“What do you mean? ”

“Just . . . I don’t know. Harry and I were talking afterward and we just thought it was, well, a little uncomfortable. Look, the restaurant is doing okay. Not great, not like it was a few months ago, but good enough. We’re very lucky, but everybody is suffering somewhat in these terrible times, and it seemed bizarre that she would think any of us would be in a position to give her what sounded like a rather vast amount of money.”

“I agree, it was a bit odd.”

“And more than that, she seemed resentful when none of us said yes absolutely. I just felt there was a strange energy from her, and it made me slightly uncomfortable. I don’t want to get into gossip, but Harry and I won’t be investing, and I have no idea what you and Keith are thinking, and I so hope I’m not overstepping the mark here, but I wanted to say that I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Alice, you are totally not overstepping the mark, and don’t you worry, Keith and I aren’t going to be investing either.” For a minute, Charlie wonders whether to tell Alice. They are friends, after all, and it seems duplicitous to not mention something so big, but the mere thought of saying it fills her with shame.

It was one thing telling Kit, her best friend, who she knows won’t judge, but quite another to tell anyone else, particularly those who think you are fine. If it wasn’t so depressing, she would almost laugh.

Charlie continues, “But interesting that you sensed there was a weird energy from her. I kind of felt the same thing this morning.”

“Oh God,” Alice groans. “I wasn’t going to gossip . . . Look, I barely know her, but I do know to trust my instincts, and there’s something that doesn’t smell quite right, and I do kind of wonder whether she’s after Robert McClore for his money. I mean, God, I so should not be saying this, but they seem such an unlikely match.”

“Ya think?” Charlie bursts into laughter, the first genuine laughter in the last few hours. “I think Robert McClore is probably far wiser than we realize, but I’ll talk to Kit, just to make sure she watches out for him.”

She puts the phone down, shaking her head, thinking about Tracy, wondering how it is you can be good friends with someone, or at least think you are good friends with someone, and realize suddenly that you don’t know them at all.

 

Kit arrives home and stares at her house in disbelief as she pulls into the driveway. There, on the front doorstep, is another giant bouquet of roses.

 

I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss you.

 

Steve

 

 

Buckley is riding round the neighborhood on his bike with friends, and Tory is upstairs, ostensibly doing homework, but Kit knows she is probably sitting in front of the computer instant messaging all her friends.

She doesn’t get beyond the hallway, a huge smile on her face, before she pulls out her address book, picking up the phone to call him.

“Hi, it’s Kit.”

“Hey.”

“Did I wake you? ” She is confused, it is midafternoon but he sounds as if he has been asleep. “Are you at work? ”

“I had a meeting locally at lunchtime and I came home to get some stuff done, and I fell asleep on the couch.”

“I’m so sorry. Listen, we can talk later. Go back to sleep.”

“Wait, I’ve been thinking about you. How did everything go with your sister? ”

“It’s a very long story but it’s all good. I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“When can I see you? I’m missing you.”

“And I . . . I miss you too.”

“Really? Well . . . could we do something on Thursday? ”

“Perfect. I’ll see you on Thursday. I can’t wait.”

The kids will be with their dad on Thursday night—since the divorce he has been forced to be home earlier to look after the children—which leaves just her . . . and Annabel. Damn. But surely Annabel won’t mind going out for the evening so she can have a quiet dinner?

“Annabel? ” she calls up the stairs. “I’m home.”

“Hi! I’ll be right down. I’m just borrowing your computer.”

“Sure,” Kit says, fighting a smidgen of irritation, then realizing how ridiculous it is to be territorial, to wish that she had been asked first. She has become more selfish, she knows, since living on her own with the kids. She is used to having everything done her way, is used to her stuff being her own (or at least
was
, before Tory turned thirteen and decided that what was her mother’s was also hers).

And so what if Annabel didn’t ask to use the computer? This is her
sister
, for God’s sake.

In the kitchen she is momentarily dismayed to see a dirty dish and three dirty mugs piled haphazardly by the side of the sink. She sighs. She will have to tell Annabel that she has to clear up, and clean up, after herself. There are rules in this house, and she has to abide by them.

“Hi!” Annabel bounds into the room and gives Kit a huge hug, and everything is instantly forgiven. “How was work? ”

“It was good,” Kit says. “What did you do today? ”

“I made us supper,” Annabel says. “Fish pie.”

“You did? ”

“Look!” Annabel opens the oven to reveal a golden, cheese and potato-crusted pie bubbling away. “I thought it was time someone looked after you.”

“This is so nice! ” Kit beams. “I feel like I’m coming home to a wife.”

“Wife, sister. I don’t mind which it is. It’s just lovely to be here, and to be part of your family. Speaking of which, I still don’t understand why you let that handsome husband of yours go.”

“Adam? Handsome? ” Kit laughs.

“Well, okay, so he’s not my type, but he is obviously a good guy. And you seem, I don’t know,
right
together. There’s still unresolved business, I think. Would you try again? ”

Kit shakes her head sadly. “I’ve thought about it, from time to time, but it would feel like going backward. Anyway, see those gorgeous flowers over there? ”