Then there was the matter of Union Carbide. He had to get out from under that millstone. He had decided to tell Georgianne that the deal had fallen through, but that he had come east anyway for a much-needed vacation. After all, it was pretty much the truth.
Georgianne finally answered the telephone shortly after nine. She sounded breathless, as if she had just come in.
'I've been calling for a couple of hours," Jeff said, simply to let her know.
"Oh. I was next door. Having dinner with the neighbors. They're very nice. I've been saying no to everything since the funeral, but today I just thought, Yeah, I want to walk across the lawn and eat with the neighbors."
"Good for you," Jeff said, taking it as a healthy sign. He was encouraged. "How are you now?"
"Better, I think. I'm not sure, but I feel better."
"Great. You do sound better." A little perkier, a little brighter. He wanted to reinforce and enhance any positive note with Georgianne. Is it too late to take you out for a drink?" he asked, thinking surely it wasn't, not at nine o'clock on a Friday night.
But Georgianne said, "Oh, thanks, Jeff, but could we make it tomorrow?"
"Well . . ." Unwilling to concede.
"I've had a long day."
She said it as an explanation rather than an excuse, but Jeff was not pleased. A longer day than his? He had come 2,800 miles and three time zones-was it too much to ask that she go out for a nightcap with him?
"Okay. No problem," he said unhappily.
"Thanks. I hope you don't mind. I just want to have a cup of tea and go to bed."
"That's okay," he repeated. "I understand. But I hope you can spend a few minutes on the phone." He tried to keep the edge out of his voice.
"Sure," Georgianne replied. "How long are you here for?"
"Two weeks," he said, "and it's all vacation. I don't have any business to do this time."
"That's terrific, Jeff. You know, when you were here the last time, in June-"
"May," he corrected instantly.
"May, yeah. Well, you did look tired then. A vacation is probably the best thing for you!"
"So everybody at work kept telling me." Jeff laughed. "How about lunch tomorrow?"
"That'd be nice," Georgianne said. "Do you want to come here? I can make something."
"No. Let me take you out. You don't want to sit around the house. We'll go for a drive and find a restaurant." .
"If you want. That would be lovely."
Jeff was pleased. He didn't want to rush in like an eager puppy. But at the same time, her offer to prepare lunch for him was a good sign. Evidently she had no hang-up about entertaining a single man alone in her home. Sean's ghost might haunt the Gorge, but not the house on Indian Hill Road. The possibility of getting her away for a few days looked better already.
The sight of Georgianne the next morning made a deep impression on Jeff. Her beauty was unchanged. He had expected some mark of trauma in her appearance-newly formed lines, a surrender in the flesh or a loss of tone in the skin. It would be natural, and he had prepared himself for it, but Georgianne had weathered the storm and come out looking as she had in May. Jeff felt a new rush of warmth and love for this woman. He kissed her on the cheek, then held her close and patted her back affectionately.
They drove north from Foxrock, into the countryside, making idle conversation. Bonnie liked it at Harvard and was working hard. Jeff had just missed the autumn colors at their best. The Union Carbide deal had fizzled, but he didn't mind; they had enough to do with Star Wars. He did his best to keep the chatter going, certain that they would settle into a rhythm and that more substantial talk would come later, over lunch and drinks. But already he had noticed what he took to be new strength and determination in Georgianne's eyes. She looked good, remarkably good. He especially liked her plaid skirt, white sweater, and tweed jacket. Most of the leaves had fallen, but Georgianne was a glorious October vision.
They stopped in New Milford and spent some time walking around looking at window displays before going into a restaurant just off the green. They drank Bloody Marys while waiting for lunch to be served.
"I am better," Georgianne declared, and Jeff thought her expression was nothing less than fierce. He was awed and thrilled, and he felt he was seeing for the first time a glimpse of the woman he had set free. "Bonnie and I sort of pulled each other through. I couldn't have managed it by myself. It was hard again when she went off to school, and I almost had-I don't know-a relapse, I guess. But then I thought, God, she's only seventeen, she's lost her father, she's coping somehow, she's so brave, and she's gone away alone. And all that shamed me out of the black mood I was in."
"That's good," Jeff said. "No matter what, you have to pick yourself up sooner or later, and carry on. But I still find it hard to fathom what happened. If you don't want to-"
"No, it's all right. I can talk about it-now."
"Did the police ever ... ?"
Georgianne shook her head. "No. They don't seem to have accomplished much at all." Her face was a clash of sadness and cold anger. She told him about the supposed drug aspect of the case and, apparently referring to the triangular pattern of bullet holes, said that there were other signs the police took to indicate that Sean had criminal connections. "But it's not true," Georgianne said bitterly. "I don't care how it looked, I know that Sean hated drugs and would never, ever, have anything to do with them."
"Of course not," Jeff said.
"I lived with him long enough to know him, and to know that I'm not just kidding myself."
"I'm sure you're right."
"That's what's so lousy about it, Jeff. Not just the pain Bonnie and I suffered, which was bad enough. Whoever did it took Sean away from us forever, and we'll never be the same two people we were. But they also stole Sean's good name, and that's really lousy. It hurts to admit it, but I know there are people, and not just the police, who believe Sean was dealing in drugs. It's so-unfair."
"Of course it is," Jeff agreed. "But you know Sean, and that's all that matters, that's what you'll remember."
"It must have been a case of mistaken identity," Georgianne went on. "Whoever did it was looking for someone else and got Sean, without realizing he was the wrong person. You see, he always left his wallet locked in the car when he ran, and with no identification, well, a killer wouldn't take his word for it, would he?"
"No. You could be right." Jeff almost smiled. He hadn't noticed Sean's leaving his wallet in the car, but then, Jeff had stared straight ahead most of the way to and from the Gorge. It was beautiful. A little extra help from Sean. Georgianne had it worked out so that she could live with it. It wouldn't become an obsession.
"Even the police agree that it could have been mistaken identity. They won't say yes, but ... maybe."
"What you know is what counts."
Their steaks were served then, and Jeff was grateful for the interruption. He had learned enough to reassure himself that he was quite safe, and now all he wanted was to steer the conversation away from the subject of Sean. Sean was dead. Forget Sean.
"Have you thought about whether you want to stay on at the house, or is it too soon ... ?"
"Oh, yes," Georgianne replied promptly. "I'm keeping the house, at least until next summer. Where would I go? Besides, I want it for Bonnie to come home to."
"Of course." Said tonelessly.
"It's bad enough, what she's been through, without suddenly seeing the house go too."
"There's no rush," he agreed.
"Right, and-oh, did I tell you? I don't remember if I did. I have a job now. Only part time, but it's a job."
Jeff blinked at his plate. The piece of meat in his mouth turned dry and tasteless. He chewed mechanically for a few seconds before looking up at Georgianne.
"You have a job, did you say?"
"Yes. Carole Richards, a neighbor up the street, talked me into it. I work mornings, until twelve-thirty, at a nursery school. The kids are three and four, and they're a real handful, but you know what? I love it. It's just what I needed."