“Your father the Communist?”
“Father and mother; they met at a Party meeting. They were idealistic; they had both broken with their families in New England and had been through a depression.”
“Your polish must have come from them.”
“Unlike some of their colleagues in the Party, they had abandoned a lifestyle, but not the manners acquired therefrom.”
“Good for them.”
“You would have liked my mother.”
“I love her work. How about your father?”
“He’d have been deeply suspicious of you.”
“Why?”
“He knew class when he saw it, and he wanted to live in a classless society.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
She went to the oven, removed an iron pot, and set it on a small table in the living room that had been carefully set. “Open another bottle of wine, will you? It’s right there on the kitchen counter.”
Stone found a corkscrew, opened the bottle, and took it to the table.
She poured them another glass of wine and raised hers. “Bon appétit.”
“Bon appétit.”
They sat among the ruins of dinner, sipping coffee.
“That was wonderful,” he said.
“Thanks; if you only cook half a dozen things, they have to be wonderful.”
“Tell me about this guy you just broke up with.”
She looked into her wineglass. “I’m embarrassed. Why do you want to know?”
“I just want to know where you are and how you got there. It seems to have become important to me.”
“I’m still embarrassed. He’s younger than I am.”
“How much younger?”
“A couple of years.”
“Not so bad; lots of men date women a lot younger.”
“It’s not the same for a woman.”
“Why not?”
“Men see younger women for sex, whereas…” She stopped.
“Whereas…?”
“Well, all right, I did it for the sex, too, mostly.”
“Is sex in such short supply for you?”
“It’s not that; I mean, anybody can get laid. For some reason, I was feeling old, so I was vulnerable.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-one. Do you always ask women that?”
“Always.”
“Why? It’s supposed to be rude.”
“It’s not important to know how old a woman is, but it’s important to know if she’ll tell you. It’s a matter of character.”
“Do you know how old Amanda Dart is?”
Stone shrugged. He could feel the tops of his ears turning red.
“She’s fifty; I have it on the best authority.”
Stone was surprised, but not shocked. “Why are we talking about Amanda Dart?”
“Because you’re involved with her.”
“Am I?”
“I could tell at dinner that night; not from your behavior, from hers.”
“You were wrong; we weren’t involved, except professionally.”
“Liar.”
“Not until the next day. We spent that… together.”
She shrugged. “I can’t say that I blame you. After all, you had just broken up with somebody, and she is quite attractive.” She looked at him levelly. “Everybody’s entitled to a sex life.”
“You have me at a disadvantage; you know more about me than I about you.”
“All right,” she sighed, “his name is Jonathan. He’s one of those young men who seem to earn their living by… being charming and attractive.”
“You mean, he was paid?”
“Not exactly. Men like Jonathan don’t ask for money; they just seem always to be broke. I picked up a lot of tabs.”
“I’ve known women like that,” Stone said. “Still, it’s more embarrassing for a woman paying for a man.”
The phone rang; Arrington didn’t move. On the third ring, the answering machine kicked in.
“It’s Jonathan,” a disembodied voice said. “I want to see you. I want…”
She got up and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
Stone could no longer hear the young man’s voice.
“No, thanks,” she said. “I’ve no intention of doing that. I dropped by last night to tell you.” She listened for a moment. “It’s over, Jonathan. I have no desire to see you again.”
He was obviously giving her an argument.
“Jonathan,” she broke in. “It’s over; accept the fact and get on with your life.” She hung up and turned to Stone. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” she said.
“I’m glad I heard it,” Stone said. He stood up and started clearing the table. Together, in silence, they put the dishes in the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen.
“He’s going to call back,” she said, but she was wrong. Instead, the house phone rang. She picked it up. “Yes? No, Jimmy, don’t send him up; put him on.” She waited a moment. “Listen to me very carefully,” she said. “I have company; I have no intention of seeing you, now or ever again. Please go away.” She hung up, seemingly on the verge of tears.
Stone took her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Are you all right?”
She buried her face in his chest. “I’m afraid of him,” she said. “When you leave, he’ll still be there.”
“Then I won’t leave.”
“I don’t want to stay here tonight,” she said. “Will you take me back to your house?”
“Of course. Is there a way out of the building, other than the front door?”
“Yes, we can take the elevator to the basement; there’s a door that opens onto the side street.”
“Get your coat and your toothbrush.”
She went into the bedroom, put some things into a duffel, got her coat, and came back, brushing away tears.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Stone said. “Come on, let’s go.”
She double-locked her door, and they took the elevator to the basement. She found a light switch, but it didn’t work. “Come on,” she said, “follow me. I have cat’s eyes.” A moment later they were at the side door of the building. “Will you look out and see if anyone is there? I don’t want him following us.”
“Sure.” Stone opened the door and stepped into the street while she hung back. A taxi came down the block and he whistled it to a halt. There was no one else visible in the street. “Come on, Arrington,” he called. They got into the cab, and Stone gave the driver the address. He watched out the back window, and he thought he saw someone, a man, come around the corner from Fifth Avenue, but in a moment they were gone.
For the second successive night, she slept in his bed, falling asleep immediately. Again, they did not make love.
Chapter 25
Stone was awakened by the smell of coffee brewing. He sat up in bed in time to watch Arrington, wearing his robe, come into the bedroom with a tray containing orange juice, coffee, and an English muffin.
“Good morning,” she said. “I hope you’re ready for breakfast.” She set the tray on his lap.
“Actually, I’m more ready for you,” he said, stroking her cheek.
She kissed him on the forehead. “That’s a sweet thought, but I have an early appointment with my agent. I’ve got to run.” She stood up and sloughed off the robe, standing naked at the foot of the bed.
Stone set the tray aside and started to get up.
“Oh, no,” she said, grabbing for her underwear, “you get right back into bed.”
Stone fell back onto the pillows, watching her. “It seems to be my lot in life to watch you walk naked around my bedroom while I do nothing about it.”
She smiled, hooking her bra. “Bad timing,” she said.
“You’ve spent the past two nights in my bed…”
“Sweetie…” she pulled her sweater over her head and brushed her hair back with her fingers. “You’ve just caught me at a bad time in my life, and I need some time to sort things out.”
“How can I help?”
“By not pressing me.”
Stone picked up the tray and returned it to his lap. “Consider yourself unpressed,” he said.