Small Town Girl (20 page)

The vision of a disembodied skeletal hand, a gold ring rattling on one of its fingers, reached out toward Lauren through the void of her subconscious.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Lauren’s eyes popped open. It was the steward, bending over her with a plate of breakfast in his hand. Her heart was pounding. She realized she must have fallen asleep.

“You cried out, miss,” he said gently. “It’s breakfast time, though. Here is an omelet and some coffee for you.” He was sympathetic, but totally professional, sparing her any embarrassment. He set the plate and utensils on the tray and went about his business.

Lauren straightened up in her seat. Coffee would do her good. They were probably about an hour or so out from London. Soon she would be with Charles, and these dreams and dark thoughts would disappear. She sighed and stirred the cream and sugar into her coffee.

They were closer than Lauren had thought. Within minutes of her finishing her coffee and deciding to leave the omelet untouched, the steward came sweeping through, picking up the plates, speaking to each first class passenger. “We are entering our descent and will be preparing for landing in a short while.” Lauren’s ears popped as she felt the plane slide easily down into lower altitudes. The steward was speaking over the address system. “We will be landing at Heathrow, London, England, in a few minutes. Please see that your trays are in the locked position and your seats are upright with seat belts securely fastened. All handbags and packages should be stowed under the seat in front of you. All electronic devices should now be turned off. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Lauren did it all automatically. She felt the plane shift as the engines adjusted speed for landing. She heard the click and slow grind of the landing gear dropping into proper position. She glanced out the window. Bits of gray cloud flew past the window, and through the fog she could just glimpse the countryside surrounding the airport. She heard the captain say, “Flight attendants, take your seats for landing, please.”

Now the plane was descending fast. Any visibility from Lauren’s point of view was lost in the morning mists that habitually enfolded all of London every day at this time. She could not tell how close they were to landing. Then she heard the flaps on the wings dragging against the pull of the sky. The engines subtly changed tone once again, and finally she felt the tires on the tarmac and the plane braking to come to a taxi speed.

The steward’s voice was again on the address system. “Folks, we’ve landed at Heathrow, London, England. We hope you enjoyed your flight, and we appreciate your patronage. Please remain seated until the aircraft has come to a complete halt. Thank you for flying with us.”

This was the hardest time for Lauren. All she wanted to do was jump up, grab her bag and her tote, and head out for the St. James’s Hotel. She knew she would still have to make it through customs, and these days, the customs officers didn’t care whether someone was in a hurry or not. They stoically and carefully did their job.

At last the plane came to a full stop at the terminal. Lauren unbuckled her seat belt and collected her things. She was the first person in line as the steward was opening the door.

He smiled at her. “In a hurry, miss?”

Lauren smiled back. “I’m meeting my fiancé.”

There was concern in his voice as he said, “Oh, I would have guessed something else.” But then he laid a hand on her arm and remarked honestly, “How nice. Have a good time in London. Bye-bye.”

“Thank you,” said Lauren, and she exited the plane.

Heathrow was a huge airport and very busy even though it was only six in the morning. Forty-five minutes later, Lauren was finally through customs and on her way in search of a cab. She followed the Ground Transportation signs and found the line of London cabs idling outside, waiting for fares. A driver jumped out of his vehicle.

“Right here, miss. Where to?”

“St. James’s Hotel. Near Mayfair.”

“I’m familiar,” he said, taking her bags and putting them in the back. Lauren climbed into the funny little car, and they were off.

“Traffic’s not too bad this time in the morning. We’ll be there in no time.”

He was right. At 7:25, he was pulling up to the front entrance of the magnificent St. James’s Hotel. The doorman opened the cab door, and Lauren climbed out. The cabbie handed her her tote, and she tipped him generously. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “And enjoy your stay.”

Lauren was smiling in happy anticipation as she entered the lobby. She knew just where to go, and it was a good thing. If the concierge got wind of a visitor or was even asked about a certain guest, that guest would be notified instantly. They were very protective of their clientele.

Charles always stayed in the deluxe suite on the fifth floor. Lauren slipped unobtrusively into the elevator. Suddenly, she felt lighter, more cheerful and carefree. At last she would be where she was supposed to be. At Charles’s side. She couldn’t wait to put her arms around him and kiss him and tell him how much she loved him.

The elevator stopped, and she stepped out into the lovely wide corridor. It was very quiet. Sunday morning, after all. Her footfalls were totally absorbed by the plush carpeting as she approached the door to the suite. Mischievously, she stood off to the side of the viewing port and knocked on the door. There was no immediate answer. She could hear voices — the television. Charles would be watching the news, probably still in bed. She knocked harder. Now she heard his voice.

“That would be room service.” Charles must really be lonely, thought Lauren. It wasn’t like him to talk to himself. She could hear him unfastening the bolts, and then the door swung open. Charles stood there in his knee length silk dressing robe.

“Charles! Surprise!”

For the past two years, Lauren had spent every moment she could with Charles. She had experienced his array of emotions. Anger, affection, humor, impatience. He faced them all with a cool detachment, his face impassive save for the slight smile that covered his actual thoughts. So Lauren was completely unprepared for Charles’s reaction.

All the color drained from his face. His lips went white. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened and shut it again. He made some kind of sound. Then he stepped into the hall and closed the door. He grabbed Lauren’s upper arm with uncharacteristic force.

“What are you doing here?” he said in a hoarse voice.

Lauren was shocked. It was obvious he was not happy to see her. She was so distressed by his actions, she couldn’t speak.

“I have a breakfast meeting going on here. I thought I told you that my business life was to have nothing to do with our personal lives!”

Lauren struggled to fight back tears, to find her voice. “A breakfast meeting in your dressing gown? Charles! I came to surprise you. I — I thought you’d be happy.” She had never been so confused.

Charles’s grip tightened uncomfortably around her arm. Instinctively, she drew back. Charles opened his mouth to speak, but the door clicked behind him. He dropped Lauren’s arm.

“Darling?” Lauren heard the soft voice from inside the room. It echoed in her head. Somebody else was calling Charles “darling.” All at once she knew. If someone had hit Lauren in the chest with a sledgehammer, it couldn’t have stunned her more. She stood as one turned to stone, not thinking, just watching this unimaginable scene unfold before her. She knew she was being sucked into some appalling drama, and she could do nothing about it. She looked at Charles. He met her gaze, but he offered nothing.

The woman who belonged to the voice stepped out into the hall. She was tall and obviously of mixed Asian and European descent. She wasn’t young, much closer to Charles’s age than Lauren’s, but she was exquisitely beautiful. She was dressed in a long black silk peignoir. Her jet black hair cascaded down her back. Her skin was ivory-colored, and her slightly tilted dark eyes shone with the understated luminescence of highly polished ebony. She wore a strand of graduated pearls around her long neck.

She alone seemed to be in control. She gazed at Lauren. “Is this the girl?” she asked simply with no particular emphasis in her words.

Charles nodded. “This is Lauren Smith. Lauren, this is Sally Chong.”

“Please,” said Sally Chong, “come in. We shall discuss this. You should understand.” She didn’t smile, but her suggestion was not unfriendly.

Lauren’s first reaction was to slap Charles as hard as she could and turn and run out of the St. James’s Hotel as fast as she could, but she was recovering her dignity. The feeling was returning to her limbs, and she felt her face cool. Charles gestured with his hand. Still in shock, Lauren walked ahead of him into the room.

“Please,” said the woman again. “Sit.”

“I’d rather not,” said Lauren stiffly, finding her voice at last. She set her tote down slowly and stood, as if trapped in some nightmare.

Charles went to the bar and poured himself a Bloody Mary out of the crystal pitcher. “Would you like a drink, Lauren?” he asked her.

Suddenly, Lauren’s shock was gone, and her anger replaced it with a vengeance. “No!” she said viciously. “No! I do not want a drink, Charles. I want you to tell me what’s going on! Who is this woman? It’s obvious this is no breakfast meeting!” Lauren whirled to face Sally Chong, who was sitting comfortably on the pale blue sofa, seemingly completely unruffled. “Who are you? Tell me. Tell me now!”

It was Charles who spoke. “Sally and I have been friends for years. She is a business woman from Singapore. We’ve been working on a merger for quite some time. A communications conglomerate. And no, our relationship is not platonic and hasn’t been for years, but it had —
has
— nothing to do with our relationship. Sally has always known about you and my plans for our marriage. I wish you’d not made the choice you did, Lauren, to come here. If I had wanted you to accompany me, I would have asked you to come. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt or discover something you’re not sophisticated enough to accept.”

His last statement put Lauren right over the edge of her emotional cliff. Psychologically, she jumped, and in that split second, she felt as though she had landed in a clean, clear place. Suddenly, she was devoid of all feeling, and she gave way to her logic and reason. She stood straight and strong. She was able to speak without hysteria or tears.

“I thought I was sophisticated, Charles, but it appears, according to your standards, I’m not. I don’t care. Whatever I am, I can tell you I am horrified by this.
Horrified.
In any relationship, there are deal breakers, and this is mine. Not so much the infidelity — ” and here Lauren paused to give her words emphasis “ — which is terribly common of you, Charles. What is disgusting to me is the
coldness
and
acceptance
of it as…as simply a part of doing business. I
will
not,
can
not, be a part of it for one moment longer. Being in this room with you is making me sick. It’s a sick and twisted situation.” Lauren struggled with her ring, wrenching it off her sweating finger. She held it up for a moment. “Find something else to do with this, Charles. When we were standing out there in the hall, I wanted to ask you why, or get an explanation, but I don’t really care. There’s a certain power I find from finally realizing I don’t care. So you can continue working on your merger for as long as you want to, but you will not see me again. Ever.” She placed the ring on the coffee table, which was the nearest piece of furniture to her. “Please don’t come back to New York for two more days. It will take me that long to remove my things from your place. I ask that you respect me that much, at least.”

Charles spoke, smoothly, coolly. “You gave up the apartment in Murray Hill, Lauren. Where will you go?”

Lauren stared at him for a moment before she spoke. “That is of no concern to you.”

“I have several properties around the city. Nice properties. Please, relocate to one of these. A phone call from me, and you can move in. We can discuss things later.”

It was all taking a very surreal feel. Lauren struggled to keep her mind focused. “Charles, stop talking. You sound like some sort of old movie. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I am no longer a part of your life and certainly not your responsibility.”

Then it was Sally Chong who spoke. Her voice was calm and melodious. She spoke with a British accent as she met Lauren’s eyes. “Charles, darling, would you pour me a drink, and one for Miss Smith, also. Miss Smith, I ask you to listen to what I have to say.”

“I said I will not have a drink,” Lauren repeated emphatically. “And what could you possibly have to say to me that I would want to hear?”

Sally Chong stood up and took the drink that Charles handed her. Without taking her eyes off Lauren, she sipped it thoughtfully. Then she spoke in her clear and musical voice, walking slowly, elegantly up and down the room.

“I am surprised by your emotional outburst. Charles has always portrayed you as a level-headed pragmatist, wanting the same lifestyle he keeps, interested in being on top of the social heap, so to speak, and representing his best interests on the social scene. Charles has always wanted a child, also, and this is something I cannot provide for him. I am not interested in marriage or child-bearing. You, however — ” and here Sally Chong paused and looked at Lauren critically, up and down. “You however,” she continued, “would probably have no objection to conceiving and bearing a child or two. Of course, we would see to it that you have plenty of help to raise the children. You would not be inconvenienced. I urge you to reconsider Charles’s offer of marriage. I can assure you that he does care for you and I would in no way interfere with your life in your home. Charles and I would simply continue the way we always have, these twenty-three years. Think it over, Miss Smith. You have everything to gain. Everything. Including any relationship you might desire outside the marriage as long as it did not interfere with the marriage. You would have all the benefits of being the wife of one of the most powerful businessmen in the world. What could possibly be more beneficial to a young woman like yourself than such an offer as this? Don’t be naïve, Miss Smith. Most men have mistresses. The advantage to us would be that you accept this arrangement from the beginning. We would all be equals and share in the benefits it would provide for us. And, to set your mind at ease, all this could certainly be spelled out in a new prenuptial agreement.”