The Wedding (17 page)

She was in the lobby right on time, in her slacks and her warm coat, and her old red ski hat. And she saw as she looked through the revolving door that it was still snowing. People were walking into the lobby and stamping their feet to get the snow off them, dusting their hair and brushing off their hats, as they stood laughing at each other, with snowflakes on their lashes. It was fun watching them, and as she looked outside, she saw a hansom carriage pull up, an enclosed old-fashioned one, like an old English carriage. It had windows and a roof, and the driver wore a top hat, and it looked wonderfully cozy. It stopped in front of the hotel, and the driver got down, as the doorman helped him hold the horses, and someone got out, and hurried inside. And as soon as he came through the revolving door, she saw that it was Jeff, wearing a ski hat much like her own and a heavy parka.

Your chariot awaits, he said, beaming at her, his eyes bright, his cheeks red from the cold, as he tucked her hand into his arm and handed her a pair of white angora mittens. Put them on, it's freezing outside.

You're incredible, she said, looking up at him in amazement. He'd brought the hansom carriage for her, and he helped her into it, and closed the door, and then settled a heavy fur blanket around her. The driver already had his instructions. I can't believe this. She was beaming at him, and very touched. She felt like a kid on her first date, as she sat next to him, snuggled under the fur blanket as he put an arm around her.

I took your suggestion, we're going to Vermont. We should be there by next Tuesday. I hope that doesn't screw up any of your appointments, he said delightedly.

Not at all. Sitting there next to him, she felt as though she would have done anything he wanted.

They headed slowly toward the park, and she put on the white angora mittens while he helped her. They were cozy and warm, and his mother's hands were about the same size as her own. She looked up at him then, and their eyes met. He was a nice man, and he had really spoiled her.

This is wonderful, Jeff. Thank you.

Don't be silly, he said, embarrassed. I thought we should do something a little special, since it was snowing.

They provided even more confusion to the already strangled traffic, and then finally reached the park, at Central Park South, and then headed north for a few blocks, until they reached Wollman skating rink, and the carriage stopped, as she looked out into the darkness.

Where are we? she asked, faintly nervous. But it was so cold and blustery that even the muggers couldn't have been around. The door opened and the driver helped them out, as Jeff looked at her with pleasure.

Can you skate?

More or less. I haven't since Yale, and I'm no Peggy Fleming.

Want to give it a try? She laughed at the thought, but it sounded like so much fun, she couldn't resist, and nodded.

I'd love it.

They hurried toward the rink arm in arm, and the carriage waited for them. Jeff had paid for it till midnight. He rented skates for both of them, and he helped her lace hers up, and then gave her a hand as she slid onto the ice tenuously, but she got her footing fairly quickly. And Jeff was a beautiful skater, he had been on the hockey team at Harvard. He took a quick turn just to warm up, and then came back to her, and stayed with her, and halfway into the session, she was skating pretty smoothly. It was still snowing and there was hardly anyone on the ice. They ate hot dogs to give them energy, and had three rounds of hot chocolate. She had a great time, and they were laughing and teasing like old friends by the end of the session. For her, it was a lot like being with Alan, only just a little better.

I can't remember when I've had so much fun, she told him when they finally sat down for a rest because her ankles were getting tired.

I go in L.A. once in a while, but the rinks in California are pretty crummy. I went skiing in Tahoe last year, and the rink is even pretty small there. It's definitely not a western sport. It's too bad. I still enjoy it.

So do I. She looked up at him happily. He looked like what her sister Sam would have called a hunk as he stood there, tall and virile and athletic, and his eyes always seemed to be laughing. I'd forgotten how much fun this is, she said happily, thanking him again, and a few minutes later he bought her a pretzel and a cup of hot coffee. It wasn't really that cold, the wind had died down, but the snow was still fairly heavy.

The city is going to be crippled tomorrow if this keeps up. Maybe all your appointments will get canceled, he said hopefully, and she laughed, thinking of it. She was meeting with Jason Haverton again, and she told Jeff about him.

I really like him. He must have been a terror in his youth, but he's a nice man, so interesting and literate, and he's as sharp as ever. She really admired him, and had enjoyed their meeting. It's funny, things seem so much more civilized here than in California. There really is a literary world, full of ladies and gentlemen, and erudite people who behave properly and observe the traditions. But there, everyone is still a little rough around the edges. I forget it sometimes, but then you come back here and are reminded again. In California, a man like Jason Haverton couldn't exist, he'd be buffeted by the newspapers, and the tabloids would make insinuations that he was having an affair with a geriatric nurse, and he'd be getting death threats.

Actually, you know, Allegra, for an old guy, it might put a little excitement in his life. He might like that.

I'm serious, she said. They were skating again, and he was holding her tightly, under the pretext of keeping her from falling. She didn't object, she liked it. It's a different world, Jeff.

I know it is, he said more seriously. It must be rough on some of your clients to live so publicly with fear of death threats and constant harassment of them and their families.

It'll happen to you one day, it happens to everyone who makes some money and has celebrity status. It's almost automatic. You make money, you get well-known, and someone wants to kill you. It's sick. Like the Wild West. Bang, it's all over. And the tabloids aren't much fun either. They invent any lie they think will sell papers for them, and they don't give a damn who they hurt in the process.

You must deal with that crap all the time with the kind of clients you have. Can you do anything about it to protect them?

Pathetically little. I learned from my parents years ago that you have to keep a low profile, lead a clean life, and learn to ignore it. But they go after you anyway. They used to try to take pictures of us when we were kids, but my father was a real lion about that. He never let them. And he got restraining orders when he had to, to protect us. But things are a lot looser now. They have to try and kill you twice before you can get any protection. We actually had a scare on Carmen right before I left, but I talked to the police and the FBI today, and everything seems to have settled down. It scares her to death, poor thing. She calls me at four o'clock in the morning sometimes just because she heard a noise and she's frightened.

You must get a lot of sleep, he said, teasing her, and she laughed. She didn't mention that Brandon hated it and complained constantly about the intrusions from her clients. It seemed unfair to complain about him to Jeff, and she didn't want to encourage Jeff unfairly, by sounding too unhappy with Brandon. They were still very much together. And by the following week, Jeff would be back in L.A., and she wouldn't be able to see him for evenings like this. Maybe they could have lunch sometime. She had already given it a lot of thought. She could introduce him to Alan, or even her parents. She knew Blaire would love him, and Simon had already met him. It was very strange thinking about him, as if she were taking him home to meet her parents.

What were you thinking just then? Jeff asked as he watched her face. She had such expressive eyes, and she'd been frowning. And she hesitated before she answered.

I was thinking that I'd like to introduce you to my family, and it seemed strange somehow. I was trying to justify it to myself.

Do you have to, Allegra? he said gently.

I don't know, she answered. Do I? He didn't answer her. They were standing at the far end of the skating rink, leaning against the railing for a few minutes. And as he stood there, looking down at her, with the snow falling on both of them, he simply moved closer to her and kissed her. She was so startled, she didn't move away, she just held on to him so she wouldn't fall, and then she kissed him back, as he pressed closer and closer against her. And when they finally stopped, they were both breathless.

Oh ' Jeff ' she said softly, stunned by what they'd done. She felt like a kid again, and at the same time, very much a woman.

Allegra, he whispered her name, and pulled her into his arms again, and she didn't fight him. And then, finally, they stopped kissing and skated again, and neither of them said a word for a few minutes. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to apologize for that, he said seriously, looking at her as they skated, but I don't really want to.

You don't have to, she said quietly. I kissed you too.

And then he looked at her squarely. Do you feel guilty about Brandon? He wanted to know what she felt. He was falling in love with her, he was completely taken with her, her ideas, her principles, her dreams, not to mention her beauty. He wanted to be with her and hold her and kiss her, and make love to her, and to hell with Brandon.

I don't know, she answered his question as honestly as she could. I'm not sure what I feel. I know I'm supposed to feel guilty about him. I want to marry him. I have for two years. But he's so rigid, Jeff. He refuses to give anything more than what he wants, and everything he does is measured and limited, and restricted.

Why do you want to marry someone like that, for heaven's sake? Jeff asked her, sounding irritated as they stopped skating again. The session was almost over, and the already sparse crowd was thinning.

I don't know why, she said plaintively, tired of explaining it to everyone, and trying to justify it, even to herself. Maybe because I've been there for this long, or because I think he needs me. I think I'd be good for him. He needs to learn to give, to loosen up, to not be so afraid to love and commit' . Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Jeff, it all sounded so stupid now, in the face of Jeff's generosity of spirit.

And if he doesn't learn to do those things, what'll you have? What kind of marriage would that be? Probably the same kind he had with his ex-wife, lousy. Maybe he'd always resent you for trying to force him to give something that's not in him. It sounds like that's what bothered him about the first one, and yet he hasn't even divorced her. How long is that going to go on? Two more years? Five? Ten? Why are you doing this to yourself? It's like you're punishing yourself. You deserve so much more than that, don't you see that? It was what her own mother had said, but Jeff's voice was clearer.

And what if you turn out to be just like him? she said sadly, voicing her worst fear, her greatest terror. In the end, they all turned out to be like Brandon, but that was how she chose them.

Do I remind you of him now? he asked, and she laughed through her tears.

No, you remind me of my father. Simon Steinberg.

I take that as a real compliment, Jeff said sincerely.

It is, and I mean it. You remind me a little bit of my brother, and Alan too, she said, smiling wistfully at him, thinking of all the good men in her life, and not the ones frozen in their inability to give, like Brandon, and the men who had come before him.

Have you ever tried talking to someone about this? he asked naively, and she laughed.

Ah, yes, the great western sport of therapy. And for how many years can you play it? I've been doing it for four. I see my therapist on Thursdays, she said matter-of-factly.

And what does he or she say ' or would you rather not discuss it? he asked hesitantly. He was puzzled by why she was hanging on to someone who was obviously giving her so little. Even she seemed to see it, although Jeff noticed that she defended him a lot, and she seemed used to doing it, so others must have told her the same thing before him.

No, I'm used to discussing it, she said openly as they skated around the rink again. She says it's an old problem, and it is. I pick men who are constitutionally unable to love me, or anyone. But I think Brandon is better than the earlier models. Jeff didn't know what they'd been like, but he wasn't impressed by what he'd heard of Brandon. At least he's trying.

How can you tell? Jeff said almost meanly. What is it that he does for you?

He loves me, she said stubbornly. He may be uptight and repressed, but behind all that, I think he'd be there for me if I needed him. She always told herself that, but he'd never had to prove it.

Are you sure of that, Allegra? Jeff asked her pointedly. Think about it. When was the last time he was there for you? I hardly know you, and I already think he's going to let you down badly one of these days. He can't even divorce his ex-wife. What's he saving her for? But she looked so unhappy when he asked her that, that Jeff decided to drop it. I'm sorry, he said apologetically. I'm probably just jealous. I have no right to say those things. It just seems so unfair. It's so hard to meet anyone you really care about, and suddenly there you are, with Brandon standing next to you, like a trail of tin cans on a cat's tail. I guess I'd like to get rid of him and simplify the situation. She laughed at the analogy, and she understood the implications.