Reunion for the First Time (13 page)

“That will be fine, madam.” The hostess clipped every word.

Embarrassed, Lizzie sat down at Wallace’s table.

The hostess handed them each a menu and removed two settings. “As you wish, sir.” She walked away.

A waiter bustled over and swept a napkin into Lizzie’s lap. “Wallace, I don’t want to sit here.”

“Well, we are.” He took the menu out of her hand and placed it on top of his on the table. “So, Elizabeth, I’ve been rambling the whole way over here. Tell me about your experiences in the Peace Corps. That must have been interesting.”

Lizzie had faced a lot of difficulties in her life. The Peace Corps had saved her. And the man who asked her about it, the only man she had ever loved, was the reason she had needed saving in the first place. Surprised, she could think back now, even with him, and not buckle with despair.

“It was transforming. It gave me just about everything worth having. I wouldn’t have my career in photography without the Corps.”

“But you never used your engineering degree. What a waste.”

He plucked a roll from the basket a server placed on the table and slathered it with butter. Shoving a bite into his mouth, he chewed lazily while he watched her.

“Well, actually, I did use my training in environmental engineering on an irrigation project. I certainly wasn’t in charge, but I had to know what I was doing in order to be useful. But eventually I was more useful helping out at the orphanage. I was hurting, and I had something in common with those children.”

“Ah, yes.” He stretched his arm across the table and covered Lizzie’s hand. “I heard about your parents. My condolences. It must have been very hard for you to lose both of them at the same time.”

Was he being dense on purpose? She had lost him the same day.

Lizzie sat there with Wallace’s cool hand on hers and thought about his sympathetic but hollow words.

“Thank you. It was hard. Very.” She reached for a roll for something to do with her hands.

“Elizabeth, you look a million miles away.” He bit into his roll again.

The waiter approached their table.

Wallace mouthed around a wad of bread. He didn’t refer to the menus. “We’ll have Caesar salad and steak Diane for two, the usual sides. Make sure the steak is rare. I want a bottle of Chateau Latour 1982. We’ll have the wine now before dinner.”

Wallace hadn’t looked at the waiter and dismissed him by holding two menus out in his direction. The young man with dark brooding eyes took the menus in hand and turned to go.

“Excuse me? Sir?”

The waiter arched an eyebrow and looked at her. “Yes, madam?”

“I’d like to revise my half of the order, please.” She looked directly at the waiter. “I’d prefer grilled swordfish with lemon and steamed vegetables for my entrée. Can you please make the Caesar salad for one and bring me a small green salad with the house dressing? And I’d like a Cosmopolitan before dinner.”

“Shall I bring two wine glasses?” The waiter’s hands fidgeted with the menus as he looked first at Lizzie, then Wallace.

“Yes, please.” Lizzie smiled at the waiter.

“Well, Elizabeth, I should order a white wine for you.” Wallace picked up the wine list.

“Don’t bother.” Lizzie touched the sleeve of Wallace’s jacket.

She turned to the waiter. “I will have a glass of the red wine with dinner, thank you.”

The waiter nodded and walked away.

“I like red wine with everything.” This was the first time she’d had the strength to ever contradict Wallace. The flip her stomach did made her nervous waiting for his reaction.

Wallace looked pained. “You used to rely on me to order for you.”

She wasn’t a desperately lovesick girl any longer. She was a competent, intelligent, self-sufficient woman, and Wallace needed to acknowledge that.

“I did, didn’t I? Huh. Well. I can navigate menus pretty well on my own now in several languages.”

She leaned back in her chair as the waiter put a brimming martini glass of pale red liquid in front of her. After the ceremony of cork removal, pouring, swilling, tasting, nodding, Wallace held his wine glass up for a toast.

“You surprise me. I like that.” He clinked her glass and drank, draining the glass by a third.

Lizzie sipped her drink and listened to Wallace talk with half an ear and relaxed. She remembered being chronically unsure of herself with him. She was so young, so inexperienced. But that was then.

“…They were wrong for me from the start. I was so blind in my youth. It should have been you. We were perfect together. You always put me first.”

That got her full attention. “I did, didn’t I? Huh.”
And you never put me first.
Lizzie suffered a rush of self-loathing for her lack of self-esteem in her relationship with him.
Why was I such a doormat?

The waiters placed the food before them with decorum, as if the romaine lettuce and piece of fish were rare jewels. Wallace fussed that the steak was overdone and sent it back to the kitchen.
Well, he’s going to have spit in his food for dinner. Hope it adds taste.

Conversation during the meal centered on the food. She complimented it, and he criticized it.

There was no time to linger over coffee. “I want to select the best seats, and the performance starts in a half hour.”

“I don’t understand.” Lizzie let him usher her out of the restaurant. “Aren’t the seats reserved when you buy a ticket?”

“Not exactly, Elizabeth. First come, first serve for patrons who purchase box seats and I want the front row.”

Moments after they were situated to Wallace’s liking in the Great Hall, the concert began. Lizzie was mesmerized by the power of the music. Too soon for her, the final crescendo brought the endnote, and the audience applauded the conductor off the stage for the intermission.

The enjoyment of the night was lost to her guilt during the rest of the concert when Wallace insisted on remaining in front row seats despite the tradition to rotate seats with other box patrons after intermission. Lizzie imagined that the angry people behind her threw eye-daggers at her back. The music was glorious, but she kept thinking about the concert’s end. She hoped they’d be the last to leave the box. She couldn’t face the other people without feeling like she had stolen something from them.

****

Gliding down the Miracle Mile in the car afterward, Lizzie pondered the highs and lows of the evening with Wallace. Her hand loose in his, she was comfortable enough. But the slow admission that she no longer enjoyed Wallace’s company nagged her.

“If my design is chosen for the Global Commerce Building, I’ll need to be in Chicago often the next few months.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “We will see each other again.”

Lizzie didn’t respond to his statement right away. She wished he had asked, rather than told her.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Ten years is a long time and we’re different people now. I’m not the same girl who always put you first. I like being independent. I don’t think that’s what you are looking for.”

“It’s that John Clark, isn’t it? I knew the minute I saw him at the reunion that he was trying to flaunt his imagined superiority.” He kept his voice low, but it looked like it was an effort.

“Jack?” Pleasure flashed through her at the thought of the man. “This isn’t about Jack and, as always, you’re not listening. This is about me. I’m different. And, spending time with you this evening convinces me what we had together is in the past. I don’t think I want to go back.” She shivered at the strength it took to tell Wallace no. Every ounce of pain now came to the surface.

The car cruised in front of her building and stopped. The driver looked in the rear view mirror for some signal from Wallace.

Wallace looked stricken when she put her hand on the door handle.

“I’ll get the doors,” Wallace blurted. The driver nodded.

She stood outside in the clear brisk night and faced him. “May I kiss you, Elizabeth?”

No. Yes. I guess.
She nodded.

He cupped his hands on her face, laced his fingers in her hair and pulled her face toward his.

She remembered the move well. Wallace’s this-will-get-her-in-the-mood move. It was a nice memory and a nice kiss. But it didn’t get her in the mood now.

When she pulled back out of the kiss abruptly he kept his eyes closed for a few seconds as if savoring it.
Not much to savor here.

“Please let me come up for a little while, Elizabeth.” His voice honey, humble. “Give me a chance to make up for whatever it is I’ve done to push you away. You make me nervous. I can’t seem to do anything right lately when I am with you. Please.”

“What you’ve done to me. You
actually
don’t know?”

“Please let me prove that I’ve changed.” The plaintive look on his face shook her. She looked into his brown eyes.

Lizzie had never taken her heart back despite his unforgivable abandonment. She remembered that one night when he was all that she wanted. Maybe she should hear him out and reopen the wounds. She had never had her say with him, either. If nothing else, she could forgive him.

“Okay, Wallace. Let’s go sit in the lobby and talk.”

Halfway around the revolving door, her phone vibrated in her purse. She fished the phone out, stepped clear into the lobby, Wallace close behind as she answered, “Charlie is that you? No, no, that’s okay. I understand. No, you are not ruining my evening. I’m here for you. Don’t cry Charlie. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Hold on. I’ll be right there.”

“I’m sorry, Wallace. I have to go to him. He sounds awful. He’s having a major meltdown.”

“Weren’t we in the middle of something here? Who the hell is Charlie?” He pulled at her arm to bring her closer.

“Charlie is my friend. He’s very fragile right now. Remember, I told you about him and his wife, Mari’s death? He needs me and I’m going.” She tugged her arm away.

His brow creased and temper flared in his eyes. “All right, if you must.” He inhaled a deep breath and his expression brightened. It struck her as phony. “Elizabeth, see me for breakfast tomorrow. My flight is at noon. We’d have time.”

“I don’t really eat breakfast, Wallace. But thanks for the invitation and for the evening.”

She hurried toward the security desk without a thought to whether he followed.

He caught her by the arm stopping her. “Have coffee with me then.”

“I really can’t. I have plans. By the time I’m done you’ll be on your plane.”

I’ve got to get to Charlie.

“Can I call you next time I’m in the city?”

“Sure. That would be fine.”
I’ll finally have my say.

She rushed to the desk and asked Byron to hail a cab.

“Don’t bother,” he ordered the security guard. “Take my car Elizabeth.”

“Are you sure? Can Byron hail a cab for you?”

“No. I think I could use a good brisk walk tonight.”

“Thanks. Sorry to rush off like this.”

“Me, too. I will call you.”

****

It was well after midnight when Lizzie got home, she noticed the message light on her answer machine, “Call me whenever you get this.” Kay’s tone sounded odd.

Boston’s an hour ahead. I can’t call her this late.

Lizzie didn’t want to talk to anyone now, not even her best friend. Depressed over the lackluster evening with Wallace she had no desire to rehash it.

And why had Charlie called? In complete control and downright gracious by the time she got there, he had offered her fresh brewed coffee and a slice of Eli’s cheesecake. Relieved, but confused, she didn’t know if she was sorry or thankful that Charlie had cried wolf and interrupted her planned confrontation with Wallace.

She burrowed into bed. Wallace was the reason sleep evaded her again.

Chapter Twelve

The tall man pushed through the revolving door and made it to Byron’s security desk in two strides. He placed some flowers on the console and held out his right hand.

“Hi. We haven’t met.” He gazed at the nametag pinned to the left above the guard’s vest pocket. “Byron, I’m Jack Clark. Nice to meet you. I’m here to see Elizabeth Moran on 43.”

Bryon liked his shake, firm and honest.

“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Clark. Go on up. I’ll tell her you’re on the way.”

“Thanks, Byron. Call me Jack.”

Byron released a lever behind the desk that allowed Jack to swing through the door to the elevator bank. The guard picked up the phone and then he noticed the flowers on the console.

He grabbed them and veered out from behind the desk to catch Jack. Poking his head through the door. “Mr. Clark? Jack? You forgot your flowers.” He held the bouquet out.

“Oh, yeah.” Jack walked back toward Byron. “Those are for Darla. She was on duty the last time I was here. She really liked the ones I brought for Ms. Moran, so I brought some for her.”

Nice guy. Usually we’re all invisible down here.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll give them to her when she comes on later. We switched shifts today.”

“Thanks.” Jack waited for some people to get off an elevator and walked into the car.

Byron walked back to the desk, referred to the owner list and dialed a number.

More like it if you ask me.

“Miz Moran? This is Byron at the front desk. You have a visitor…”

****

“Thank you Byron. I’ll be right down.” Lizzie grabbed her coat and purse, checked her face in the hall mirror one last time and opened the door. “Good girl, Marty. You stay there, I’ll be back soon.”

“Eager are we?” Jack smiled with his hand raised to knock.

“Oh! You scared me to death.” She leaned against the doorjamb, her hand pressed to her chest. “I was on my way down to meet you.”

He gazed at her, expectant.

“Did you want to come in?”

“Yep. Just for a minute.” Nudging her back inside, he closed the door behind him and handed her a wrapped present.

He bent to pet Marty. “Go ahead and open it before we leave.”

“What’s this for?” She threw her coat over her shoulder and tore at the paper.

“You’ll love it.” Marty laid flat on her back, lolling in ecstasy as Jack scratched her belly.

Lizzie wadded the paper and tossed it on the counter. She held a tiny dog sweater in her hand and exclaimed, “A Bear’s sweater? Get this thing out of my house!” She waved it at him.