Georgianne groaned. "He loves to tell people that."
Jeff laughed, as he was expected to, but he wondered about Sean Corcoran. Was he always like this? Could anyone be obscurely antic on a full-time basis? It occurred to him now that Georgianne might have married Sean because he'd got her pregnant, and somehow they'd made a go of it. It was one possible explanation, and Jeff was looking for an explanation because Sean was definitely not the man who would, or should, be Georgianne Slaton's husband. The odd part was that they got along. Jeff could see that, but he wrote it off as mere habit, the familiarity of routine.
"I'm at the Hilton now," Jeff told Georgianne. "Got a room there after I left you this afternoon."
"Oh, Jeff. You should have stayed with us," Georgianne said. "I told you we had plenty of room."
"That's right," Sean confirmed. "Why stay at a hotel when you could stay with friends?"
Jeff smiled, pleased by the disappointment Georgians showed. By contrast, Sean's remarks seemed perfunctory.
"Thanks. I appreciate it," he said. "But I'd only disrupt your household, coming and going at odd times. Besides, the hotel is a tax-deductible business expense, and if I don't bring a few of them back my accountants begin to get jumpy."
"It's up to you," Sean said.
They left the cocktail lounge after two drinks and drove to a restaurant somewhere outside Danbury. Georgianne rode with Jeff, in case he lost sight of Sean on the way.
"Your husband's a nice man," Jeff said as he followed the blue compact out of the city.
"Oh, I hope you do like him," Georgianne said. "He is a good man, a very good husband and father."
The gambit was refused, or ignored. Jeff thought he'd opened a door for her, but Georgianne's response was bewildering.
"What more could you want?" he forced himself to continue. "No, I really meant it. I like him."
"I'm glad. Not everybody does."
"Oh?" A note of hope.
"Well ... Sean does rub some people the wrong way. They think he's being sarcastic, when he isn't really. It's just the way he talks."
"As long as you're happy. That's the only thing that matters. Other people don't count."
"I know."
It took a few seconds for Jeff to realize that she hadn't said, Yes, lam happy. It was, he thought, a significant omission. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. She smiled back at him. The hem of her dress was perched demurely on her knees, and his eyes lingered briefly on her legs. Then suddenly he had a strange feeling. It had to do with being in a car with Georgianne again. This time, at last, they were alone. An old picture came into his head, and he instinctively glanced at the rear-view mirror. Once, many years ago, he'd been in the front seat with Joanne, and he'd looked up to catch a glimpse of Georgianne buttoning her blouse. What had she and Mike been doing? It didn't matter. What stuck in his mind was that brief, tantalizing curve of breast, before it was covered.
"Funny, isn't it?" he said, savoring the memory.
.What?"
"Oh, you know-what your husband was saying about the two of us. How we went out together all those times but never really on a date."
"Like I said, you never asked me."
"Ah, well ... Mike."
"Mike was no big deal," Georgianne said. "Lots of kids went steady because it was easier that way. Mike was good company, but he was never a real heartthrob. I guess that's why there was no pain on either side when we went our own ways." Then she added, "Anyway, if you'd asked, I would have gone out with you, Jeff."
It was a flat statement, a plain comment on something that had never happened. Georgianne put no special emphasis on the words, but they shook Jeff deeply. Back then, he'd wanted to ask her out. Many times. But he'd never worked up the nerve to do it, and he'd always explained his hesitation in terms of Mike Rollins. Now that excuse was gone. Hearing what Georgianne had just said, he felt a confusion of sadness and anger. In a way, it was the best thing she could have told him, but it still hurt.
"Really?"
"Sure," she said. "Why not?"
"My mistake, I guess."
"I thought you weren't interested."
"No. That wasn't it."
You were afraid, Jeff told himself. It was fear, and nothing else. The fear that she would reject you-that would have been unbearable. But as long as you didn't ask, you weren't rejected, and the dream survived. It was pathetic. Yet he knew this was what he had come here to learn. The reunion was more than a whim, more than simple curiosity. He'd sought her out for this bit of truth.
"Oh. Well, you were so busy with Joanne and Kathy, and Betsy," Georgianne said lightly, as if she sensed that this was no longer idle chat and wanted to defuse the subject. "You went through a few girls in high school, you know."
"Yeah, I guess I did." Because none of them was right, none of them was the girl he'd really wanted. The sadness was offset to a certain extent by the one priceless new fact that, yes, Georgianne would have gone out with him.
The restaurant, the Gray Door, was better than Jeff had expected. Sean warmed up a little bit during the meal as Jeff became less mysterious and formidable to him. He didn't seem to mind Jeff and Georgianne reminiscing about the old days. When they were about to proceed with coffee and cognac, a trio of musicians appeared, and a few couples took to the small dance floor at the back of the restaurant.
"Georgianne and I haven't danced together since the senior prom," Jeff said briskly. "May I steal your wife?"
"Be my guest," Sean said affably.
The music was medium tempo, slow enough so you could hold your partner and talk, if that's what you wanted, but fast enough to keep middle-aged people moving without inducing cardiac arrest. Jeff thought fondly of the old body-groping slow numbers he'd danced to in high school-never, alas, with Georgianne. He held her as close as possible now. She didn't press against him, but neither did she hold herself away. She felt fantastic in his arms, their thighs brushing, her breasts just touching his chest, the feel of her hair on his cheek, the scent of her ...
"You know," he whispered.
"What?"
"I do remember dancing with you once at the senior prom. We all danced with each other's dates once. It was the polite thing to do."
"Mm-hmm."
"Well, it's much better this time."
Georgianne pulled her head back to look at him. She was smiling, and Jeff thought it was the most luxurious, sensual smile he had ever seen.
"That's very sweet," she said softly. "Thank you. It's so nice to see you again, Jeff. I'm really glad it happened."
"So am I."
They stayed on the floor for two dances. Jeff noticed Sean making his way to the men's room as the second song wound down. He and Georgianne went back to the table.
She was so at ease with herself. So many of the women Jeff encountered were either sharp and aggressive, out to make it in a man's world, or else res olutely, it seemed to him, confused ... muddled housewife types who no longer knew who they were. But here was Georgianne, solid as bedrock, at peace with the person she was and apparently content with the life she had.
Content? Or resigned? Jeff wondered if Georgianne could look this radiant if she wasn't really happy. What kind of life was it, actually? Unexciting, unremarkable, and surely modest if they were getting by on Sean's teacher's salary alone. This still puzzled Jeff, because he had expected something else, something different. Georgianne was the kind of girl you thought would end up married to a rich doctor or lawyer. That Jeff should find her in such cozy but diminished circumstances seemed wrong. A mistake.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was a little after eleven-thirty when Jeff got back to the hotel. Still early, as far as he was concerned. He felt wide awake, and he didn't want to sit around in his room. He had stayed in the night before, planning, drinking beer, and watching the X-rated cable channel the Mortlake Motel provided for its guests (he'd seen Debbie Does Dallas for the third time). But the Hilton offered no such distractions. He went to the bar and ordered a beer.