Now and Forever (43 page)

"In a house with a bathtub four feet deep and a kitchen straight out of a museum."

"Playing Goldilocks, I presume. Did the three bears come home before you left, and how was the porridge?"

"Delightful." She laughed at him and blushed slightly when he reached for her hand. But he held it for only a second.

"I thought you were an apparition yesterday on the hills. You looked like a goddess."

"Aunt Beth accused me of delusions from the sun."

"Yes, but she didn't think she'd seen a god, at least." Aunt Beth cut him down to size just to see how he'd take it, but he took it well. He was very gracious, and left them shortly before dinner, having invited them both to join him at his hosts' for lunch the next day. Aunt Beth excused herself on the grounds that she would have business to attend to on the ranch, but Jessica accepted with pleasure. He drove off in a chocolate brown Porsche, and Jessica looked up with a girlish gleam in her eyes.

"Well, what do you think?" "Too tall by far." Aunt Beth tried to look stern, but instantly failed as her face broke into a grin. "But otherwise, I heartily approve. He's perfectly lovely, Jessica! Simply lovely." Aunt Beth sounded almost as excited as Jessie herself felt. She was trying to fight it, but with difficulty.

"He is nice, isn't he?" She looked dreamy for a moment and then pirouetted on one foot. "But he's not as nice as my house."

"Jessica, you confuse me! I'm too old for such games! What house? And how dare you compare a man like that to a house?"

"Easily, because I'm mean. And I'm talking about my house. The one. I rented today, for the whole summer!"

Aunt Beth's face grew serious at the news. "You rented the Wheeling house for the summer, Jessica?"

"Yes. And if I like it, I'll stay longer. Aunt Beth, I'm happy down here, and you were right, it is time for a change."

"Yes, child. But to something like this? This is a life for an old woman, not for you. You can't lock yourself up in the country. Who will you talk to? What will you do?"

"I'll talk to you, and I'll start to paint again. I haven't done that in years, and I love it. I might even paint you."

"Jessica, Jessica! Always so flighty! You worry me at times. Last time you leapt to your feet and ran home to get a divorce, and now what are you doing? Please, dear, think this over with care."

"I have, and I am, and I will. I only rented it for the summer. And we'll see after that. It's not a permanent move. I'll try it. The only permanent decision I've come to is to sell the shop."

"Good God, you have been busy. Are you sure about all this?" Aunt Beth was more than slightly taken aback. She'd suggested selling the shop, but she hadn't thought Jessica would take her seriously. What had she done?

"I'm absolutely sure. I'm going to sell Lady J to Astrid, or offer it to her, anyway, when I go back."

"And she'll buy it. You can be sure of that, Jessica. I can't say I'm sorry. I think it would be good for her. But won't you be sorry? The boutique seems to mean a lot to you, dear."

"It did, but it's a part of the past now. A part I have to get rid of. I don't think I'll regret it."

"I hope not." There was a change in the air again; they both sensed it. But for the first time in a long time, Jessie felt alive, and not in the least bored.

"Is the house livable?"

"More or less, with a good scrub. A very good scrub."

"What will you do about furniture?"

"Live in a sleeping bag." She didn't look at all perturbed.

"Don't be ridiculous. I have some spare furniture out in the shed, and more in the attic. Help yourself. At least you'll be comfortable."

"And happy."

"Jessie ... I hope so. And please try not to do anything major too quickly. Take your time. Think. Weigh your decisions."

"Is that what you do?"

Aunt Beth couldn't stifle her mirth at the question. "No. But it's the sort of advice old women are supposed to give young girls. I always rush in and do what I want, and mend fences later. And to tell you the truth, I'll love having you down here for the summer." The older woman smiled gently and Jessica grew pensive.

"And what if I stay after the summer?"

"Oh, I'll close my doors to you and shoot at you from the kitchen windows. What do you suppose I'd do? Be delighted, of course. But I won't encourage you to move down here for my sake. I don't even do that to Astrid." But she didn't really think Jessie would move down; by the end of the summer she'd be tired of the lack of excitement ... and the Englishman who was moving to San Francisco looked very promising.

He came to take Jessie to lunch the next day, and she returned to Aunt Beth's in high spirits. She had liked his friends, and they had been delighted at the prospect of her moving down for the summer, and had extended an invitation to drop in on them anytime she liked. They were a couple in their fifties who invited friends up often from L.A. Geoffrey was among them ...

"I see I'm going to be spending a lot of time here this summer," he'd said.

"Oh?"

"Yes, and it's a damn long drive down from San Francisco. You could have picked someplace closer for your summer haunt, Jessica." She had not yet mentioned to him that she was thinking of moving down for good. She'd laughed up into his eyes as he'd handed her out of his car at Aunt Beth's. "Speaking of which, Miss Clarke, when are you going back to the city?"

"Tomorrow." But the "Miss" Clarke had unnerved her ... Miss? It had sounded so strange. So ... so empty.

"I'm going back to L.A. tomorrow too. But as a matter of fact--" he'd looked down at her almost slyly, and definitely pleased with himself--"I'm planning to be in San Francisco on Wednesday. How about dinner?"

"I'd love it."

"So would I." He'd looked surprisingly serious as they'd walked toward the house, and he'd quietly slipped his hand around hers.

Astrid was stunned by Jessica's offer, but she leapt at the idea. She had wanted to buy the boutique since the first time she'd seen it.

"But are you sure?"

"Positive. Take it. I'll give you an idea of what the inventory's worth, talk to my attorney, and we'll come up with a price." She spoke to Philip Wald and two days later they set a price. Astrid didn't hesitate.

She asked her own attorneys to have the papers drawn up. Lady J would become hers for the sum of eighty-five thousand dollars. Both she and Jessie were pleased with the price. The only twinge Jessica felt was at the mention of Astrid's changing the name of the boutique to Lady A. At least it would sound almost the same to their clients. But it wouldn't be the same anymore. It would be Astrid's. The end of an era had finally come.

They were sitting in the back office discussing plans for the sale when Katsuko appeared in the doorway with a smile on her face.

"There's someone here to see you, Jessie. Someone very pretty to look at, I might add."

"Oh?" She poked her head out the door and saw Geoffrey. "Oh! Hello." She beckoned him into the office, and introduced him to Astrid, explaining that Mrs. Williams was her mother.

"You know my mother?" Astrid was surprised. Her mother didn't know anyone like Geoffrey.

"I had the pleasure of meeting her this weekend, at the ranch." Astrid's eyebrows shot up as she cast a look of surprise at Jessica, and Geoffrey added quickly, "I was down there visiting friends." And suddenly Astrid's face said that she understood why Jessica was planning to spend the summer down there, in her creaking rented Victorian house. Astrid almost wondered if that was why she was selling the shop. But she felt as though she had missed a piece of the story somehow. Had Jessica been keeping secrets? She looked over to see Geoffrey looking at Jessica warmly. And Astrid restrained the questions on the tip of her lips. How? When? What next? Did he ... was he ... would he ... He broke into her thoughts with another blistering smile.

"May I invite you two lovely ladies to lunch?" He even managed gently to encompass Katsuko with a look of regret; he knew someone would have to stay home, to mind the store. His manners were impeccable. And Astrid liked that. She was almost tempted into lunch, out of curiosity, but she didn't want to do that to Jessie. But Jessica was quick to shake her head about lunch.

"Don't even tempt us, Geoffrey. We were just discussing some business matters, about the sale of the shop, and ..."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Jessica!" Astrid broke in on Jessie's conscientious protests. "Don't be silly--we can talk business later. I have some errands to do anyway. I have to go downtown--" she looked sorrowfully at Geoffrey--"but you two go ahead and have a nice lunch. I'll meet you back here around two or two-thirty."

"Make it two-thirty, Mrs. Bonner." Geoffrey was quick to step in. And Jessica sat back and watched. She liked the way he dealt with things. He was used to wielding power and it showed. It made her feel safe, but not threatened. Now that she didn't need to be taken care of, his attentions were a luxury, not a life-giving plasma. She was enjoying the difference, and found herself wondering what it would have been like with Ian, had her needs not been so desperate, had she been more sure of herself. But she brushed the thought from her mind.

They had lunch nearby, in a garden restaurant on Union Street, and it was a very pleasant meal. He had a passion for horses, and flew his own plane, was planning a trip to Africa the following winter, and had gone to Cambridge, after Eton. And it was clear that he was very taken with Jessie. And every time he smiled that magnificent smile of his, she melted.

"I must say, Jessica, you look very different up here, in town."

"It's amazing what a difference it makes when I comb my hair." They both smiled at the memory of their first meeting. "I even wear shoes around here."

"Do you? How refreshing. Let me take a look." He teasingly swept aside the tablecloth to glance at her feet, and saw a very handsome pair of cinnamon suede Gucci shoes. They were almost exactly the color of the suede skirt she had on with a salmon silk blouse. The salmon shade was Ian's favorite color, and she had had to force herself to put it on this morning. So what if it was Ian's favorite? That was no reason to give it up. She hadn't worn the blouse in months, as though by not doing so she were somehow renouncing him. Now it seemed foolish.

"I approve of your shoes. And by the way, that's a very handsome blouse." She blushed at the compliment, mostly because it reminded her of Ian. There was something about Geoffrey ...

"What were you just thinking?" He had glimpsed a shadow passing rapidly across her eyes.

"Nothing."

"Shame on you, telling lies. Something serious crossed your mind. Something sad?" It had looked that way.

"Of course not." She was embarrassed that he had seen so much. Too much. He was very observant.

"Have you never been married, Jessie? It seemed remarkable to have the good fortune to find a woman like you, free and unattached. Or am I making assumptions?" But he had wanted to know ever since he'd met her.

"You're making the right assumptions. I'm free and unattached. And yes, I was married." His timing was amazing, as though he had read her mind.

"Any children?" He raised an eyebrow with a curious air.

"No. None."

"Good."

"Good?" It was an odd thing to say. "You don't like children, Geoffrey?"

"Very much. Other people's." He smiled without embarrassment. "In fact, I'm a perfectly marvelous uncle. But I'd make a perfectly terrible father."

"What makes you say that?"

"I move about too much. I'm too selfish. When I love a woman, I detest sharing her in any major way, and if you're going to be a proper mother, you've got to spread yourself pretty thin between husband and offspring. Perhaps I'm too much a child myself, but I want to enjoy long romantic evenings, unexpected trips to Paris, skiing in Switzerland without three little runny-noses crying in the car ... I can give you a thousand dreadful, horribly selfish reasons. But all of them honest. Does that shock you?" He didn't apologize for what he was saying, but he was willing to accept that she might not approve. He had long since stopped making excuses. In fact, he had seen to it that there was no longer a possibility of a "slip." He had made up his mind, and now there was no question of it.

"No, it doesn't shock me. I've always felt that way myself. In fact, exactly that way."

"But?"

"What do you mean?"

"There was a 'but' in your voice." He said it very softly, and she smiled. "Was there? I'm not sure. I used to have very definite ideas on the subject. But I don't know ... I've changed a lot."

"Changing is natural if you've gotten divorced. But suddenly you find you want children? I should think you'd want permanent freedom."

"Not necessarily. And I haven't made any grandiose policy changes about children either. I've just started asking myself a lot of questions."

"Actually, Jessie--" he held her hand gently as he said it--"I rather think you'd be happier without children. You seem very much like me. Determined, free; you enjoy what you do; I somehow can't imagine you chucking all that for a little squally person in diapers." She grinned at the thought.

"God."

"Quite." They laughed for a moment, and took a sip of their wine as the second batch of lunch customers began to arrive. They had already been sitting there for almost two hours. It was odd to be talking to him about children all of a sudden. She got the feeling that the subject was important to him, and he wanted to get it out of the way early. And he certainly shared all the views she'd held dear for a decade.

Jessica stretched her legs and finished her wine, wondering if she should get back to the shop, and then suddenly thinking that she must be keeping him from appointments too. But the time together was so pleasant, it was hard to bring it to an end.

"I'm going to Paris on business next week, Jessica. Is there anything I can bring you?"

"What a lovely thought Paris." Her eyes danced at the idea. Paris.

"Let's see ... you could bring me ... the Louvre ... Sacre-Coeur ... the Cafe Flore ... the Brasserie Lipp ... the Champs Elysees ... oh, and the entire Faubourg St Honore." She giggled at the thought of it.