The Best Laid Plans (2 page)

Leslie listened as Oliver went on, and she was thinking, He could do it. There was such a compelling excitement about him. The truth was that she found everything about him exciting. She had never felt this way about a man before, and it was an exhilarating experience. She had no way of knowing how he felt about her. He is always the perfect gentleman, damn him. It seemed to Leslie that every few minutes people were coming up to the park bench to shake Oliver's hand and to wish him well. The women were visually throwing daggers at Leslie. They've probably all been out with him, Leslie thought. They've probably all been to bed with him. Well, that's none of my business.

She had heard that until recently he had been dating the daughter of a senator. She wondered what had happened. That's none of my business, either.

There was no way to avoid the fact that Oliver's campaign was going badly. Without money to pay his staff, and no television, radio, or newspaper ads, it was impossible to compete with Governor Gary Addison, whose image seemed to be everywhere. Leslie arranged for Oliver to appear at company picnics, at factories, and at dozens of social events, but she knew these appearances were all minor-league, and it frustrated her.

"Have you seen the latest polls?" Jim Bailey asked Leslie. "Your boy is going down the tubes."

Not if I can help it, Leslie thought.

Leslie and Oliver were having dinner at Cheznous. "It's not working, is it?" Oliver asked quietly. "There's still plenty of time," Leslie said reassuringly. "When the voters get to know you " Oliver shook his head. "I read the polls, too. I want you to know I appreciate everything you've tried to do for me, Leslie. You've been great." She sat there looking at him across the table, thinking, He's the most wonderful man I've ever met, and I can't help him. She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him and console him. Console him? Who am I kidding? As they got up to leave, a man, a woman, and two small girls approached the table. "Oliver! How are you?" The speaker was in his forties, an attractive-looking man with a black eye patch that gave him the raffish look of an amiable pirate.

Oliver rose and held out his hand. "Hello, Peter. I'd like you to meet Leslie Stewart. Peter Tager."

"Hello, Leslie." Tager nodded toward his family. "This is my wife, Betsy, and this is Elizabeth and this is Rebecca." There was enormous pride in his voice.

Peter Tager turned to Oliver. "I'm awfully sorry about what happened It's a damned shame. I hated to do it, but I had no choice."

"I understand, Peter."

"If there was anything I could have done "

"It doesn't matter. I'm fine."

"You know I wish you only the best of luck."

On the way home, Leslie asked, "What was that all about?"

Oliver started to say something, then stopped. "It's not important."

Leslie lived in a neat one-bedroom apartment in the Brandy-wine section of Lexington. As they approached the building, Oliver said hesitantly, "Leslie, I know that your agency is handling me for almost nothing, but frankly, I think you're wasting your time. It might be better if I just quit now."

"No," she said, and the intensity of her voice surprised her. "You can't quit. We'll find a way to make it work."

Oliver turned to look at her. "You really care, don't you?"

Am I reading too much into that question? "Yes," she said quietly. "I really care."

When they arrived at her apartment, Leslie took a deep breath. "Would you like to come in?"

He looked at her a long time. "Yes."

Afterward, she never knew who made the first move. All she remembered was that they were undressing each other and she was in his arms and there was a wild, feral haste in their lovemaking, and after that, a slow and easy melting, in a rhythm that was timeless and ecstatic. It was the most wonderful feeling Leslie had ever experienced.

They were together the whole night, and it was magical. Oliver was insatiable, giving and demanding at the same time, and he went on forever. He was an animal. And Leslie thought, Oh, my God, I'm one, too.

In the morning, over a breakfast of orange juice, scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon, Leslie said, "There's going to be a picnic at Green River Lake on Friday, Oliver. There will be a lot of people there I'll arrange for you to make a speech. We'll buy radio time to let everyone know you're going to be there. Then we'll " "Leslie," he protested, "I haven't the money to do that." "Oh, don't worry about that," she said airily. "The agency will pay for it." She knew that there was not the remotest chance that the agency would pay for it. She intended to do that herself. She would tell Jim Bailey that the money had been donated by a Russell supporter. And it would be the truth Ill do anything in the world to help him, she thought.

There were two hundred people at the picnic at Green River Lake, and when Oliver addressed the crowd, he was brilliant.

"Half the people in this country don't vote," he told them. "We have the lowest voting record of any industrial country in the world less than fifty percent. If you want things to change, it's your responsibility to make sure they do change. It's more than a responsibility, it's a privilege. There's an election coming up soon Whether you vote for me or my opponent, vote. Be there."

They cheered him.

Leslie arranged for Oliver to appear at as many functions as possible He presided at the opening of a children's clinic, dedicated a bridge, talked to women's groups, labor groups, at charity events, and retirement homes. Still, he kept slipping in the polls. Whenever Oliver was not campaigning, he and Leslie found some time to be together. They went riding in a horse-drawn carriage through Triangle Park, spent a Saturday afternoon at the Antique Market, and had dinner at A la Lucie. Oliver gave Leslie flowers for Groundhog Day and on the anniversary of the Battle of Bull Run, and left loving messages on her answering machine: "Darling where are you? I miss you, miss you, miss you."

"I'm madly in love with your answering machine. Do you have any idea how sexy it sounds?"

"I think it must be illegal to be this happy. I love you."

It didn't matter to Leslie where she and Oliver went: She just wanted to be with him.

One of the most exciting things they did was to go white-water rafting on the Russell Fork River one Sunday. The trip started innocently, gently, until the river began to pound its way around the base of the mountains in a giant loop that began a series of deafening, breathtaking vertical drops in the rapids: five feet... eight feet.. nine feet... only a terrifying raft length apart. The trip took three and a half hours, and when Leslie and Oliver got off the raft, they were soaking wet and glad to be alive. They could not keep their hands off each other. They made love in their cabin, in the back of his automobile, in the woods.

One early fall evening, Oliver prepared dinner at his home, a charming house in Versailles, a small town near Lexington. There were grilled flank steaks marinated in soy sauce, garlic, and herbs, served with baked potato, salad, and a perfect red wine.

"You're a wonderful cook," Leslie told him. She snuggled up to him "In fact, you're a wonderful everything, sweetheart." "Thank you, my love." He remembered something. "I have a little surprise for you that I want you to try." He disappeared into the bedroom for a moment and came out carrying a small bottle with a clear liquid inside. "Here it is," he said. "What is it?" "Have you heard of Ecstasy?" "Heard of it? I'm in it." "I mean the drug Ecstasy. This is liquid Ecstasy It's supposed to be a great aphrodisiac." Leslie frowned. "Darling you don't need that. We don't need it. It could be dangerous." She hesitated. "Do you use it often?" Oliver laughed. "As a matter of fact, I don't. Take that look off your face. A friend of mine gave me this and told me to try it. This would have been the first time.

"Let's not have a first time," Leslie said. "Will you throw it away?

"You're right. Of course I will." He went into the bathroom, and a moment later Leslie heard the toilet flush. Oliver reappeared. "All gone." He grinned. "Who needs Ecstasy in a bottle? I have it in a better package." And he took her in his arms. Leslie had read the love stories and had heard the love songs, but nothing had prepared her for the incredible reality. She had always thought that romantic lyrics were sentimental nonsense, wishful dreaming. She knew better now. The world suddenly seemed brighter, more beautiful. Everything was touched with magic, and the magic was Oliver Russell.

One Saturday morning, Oliver and Leslie were hiking in the Breaks Interstate Park, enjoying the spectacular scenery that surrounded them.

"I've never been on this trail before," Leslie said.

"I think you're going to enjoy it."

They were approaching a sharp curve in the path. As they rounded it, Leslie stopped, stunned. In the middle of the path was a hand-painted wooden sign: LESLIE, WILL YOU

MARRY ME?

Leslie's heart began to beat faster. She turned to Oliver, speechless.

He took her in his arms. "Will you?"

How did I get so lucky? Leslie wondered. She hugged him tightly and whispered, "Yes, darling. Of course I will."

"I'm afraid I can't promise you that you're going to marry a governor, but I'm a pretty good attorney."

She snuggled up to him and whispered, "That will do nicely."

A few nights later, Leslie was getting dressed to meet Oliver for dinner when he telephoned.

"Darling, I'm terribly sorry, but I've bad news. I have to go to a meeting tonight, and I'll have to cancel our dinner. Will you forgive me?"

Leslie smiled and said softly, "You're forgiven."

The following day, Leslie picked up a copy of the State Journal. The headline read: WOMAN'S BODY FOUND IN KENTUCKY RIVER. The story went on: "Early this morning, the body of a nude woman who appeared to be in her early twenties was found by police in the Kentucky River ten miles east of Lexington. An autopsy is being performed to determine the cause of death...."

Leslie shuddered as she read the story. To die so young. Did she have a lover? A husband? How thankful I am to be alive and so happy and so loved.

It seemed that all of Lexington was talking about the forthcoming wedding. Lexington was a small town, and Oliver Russell was a popular figure. They were a spectacular-looking couple, Oliver dark and handsome, and Leslie with her lovely face and figure and honey-blond hair. The news had spread like wildfire. "I hope he knows how lucky he is," Jim Bailey said. Leslie smiled. "We're both lucky."

"Are you going to elope?"

"No. Oliver wants to have a formal wedding. We're getting married at the Calvary Chapel church."

"When does the happy event take place?" "In six weeks."

A few days later, a story on the front page of the State Journal read: "An autopsy has revealed that the woman found in the Kentucky River, identified as Lisa Burnette, a legal secretary, died of an overdose of a dangerous illegal drug known on the streets as liquid Ecstasy...."

Liquid Ecstasy. Leslie recalled the evening with Oliver. And she thought, How lucky it was that he threw that bottle away.

The next few weeks were filled with frantic preparations for the wedding. There was so much to do. Invitations went out to two hundred people. Leslie chose a maid of honor and selected her outfit, a ballerina-length dress with matching shoes and gloves to complement the length of the sleeves. For herself, Leslie shopped at Fayette Mall on Nicholasville Road and selected a floor-length gown with a full skirt and a sweep train, shoes to match the gown, and long gloves. Oliver ordered a black cutaway coat with striped trousers, gray waistcoat, a wing-collared white shirt, and a striped ascot. His best man was a lawyer in his firm.

"Everything is set," Oliver told Leslie. "I've made all the arrangements for the reception afterward. Almost everyone has accepted."

Leslie felt a small shiver go through her. "I can't wait, my darling."

On a Thursday night one week before the wedding, Oliver came to Leslie's apartment. "I'm afraid something has come up, Leslie. A client of mine is in trouble. I'm going to have to fly to Paris to straighten things out." "Paris? How long will you be gone?" "It shouldn't take more than two or three days, four days at the most. I'll be back in plenty of time." "Tell the pilot to fly safely." "I promise." When Oliver left, Leslie picked up the newspaper on the table. Idly, she turned to the horoscope by Zoltaire. It read: FOR LEO (JULY 23RD TO AUGUST 22ND). THIS is NOT

A GOOD DAY TO CHANGE PLANS. TAKING RISKS CAN LEAD TO SERIOUS

PROBLEMS.

Leslie read the horoscope again, disturbed. She was almost tempted to telephone Oliver and tell him not to leave. But that's ridiculous, she thought. It's just a stupid horoscope.

By Monday, Leslie had not heard from Oliver. She telephoned his office, but the staff had no information. There was no word from him Tuesday. Leslie was beginning to panic. At four o'clock on Wednesday morning, she was awakened by the insistent ringing of the telephone She sat up in bed and thought: It's Oliver! Thank God. She knew that she should be angry with him for not calling her sooner, but that was unimportant now. She picked up the receiver. "Oliver ..." A male voice said, "Is this Leslie Stewart?" She felt a sudden cold chill "Who who is this?" "Al Towers, Associated Press. We have a story going out on our wires, Miss Stewart, and we wanted to get your reaction." Something terrible had happened. Oliver was dead. "Miss Stewart?" "Yes." Her voice was a strangled whisper. "Could we get a quote from you?" "A quote?" "About Oliver Russell marrying Senator Todd Davis's daughter in Paris." For an instant the room seemed to spin. "You and Mr. Russell were engaged, weren't you? If we could get a quote ..." She sat there, frozen. "Miss Stewart."