"Well, perhaps I should work at home," Nick said. And he swore to himself that he would send Holly packing as soon as he got home. He had not reached the point, despite her looks and body and ability to make love, where he would jeopardize his life at this pivotal point.
"Don't let me down," Connors said. "I'm counting on you, Nick, to save this account. But more than that, with your engagement to Julie and all, well, son, it's imperative that you deliver and show that no matter what, you're the best man in the agency."
"I won't let you down, sir," Nick said, and he had never felt less confident.
"And Nick, don't let your work keep you away. Julie will be impossible to live with if she thinks you can't see her because of your work."
"When I'm working at home, I should have enough time for everything," Nick said and realized how stupid he sounded. "I mean, I miss Julie as much as she misses me, and this way I should be able to see her more often," he added.
"She'll be glad to hear that," Connors said. "She's so anxious now. She's even talking about moving the wedding up."
"I can't wait to call her then," Nick said, and felt things were collapsing.
"You get on home and get to work," Connors said. "And take care of yourself. Anything you need can be sent from the office. And feel free to have your secretary work with you at home if necessary. I want results in a week, Nick. And I'm confident you can give me results and please Frances Dennison."
"Thank you for your confidence," Nick said.
"I'll talk to you later, Nick," Connors said. Then he laughed. "And if you're still feeling bad and need a bit of home nursing, well, I imagine Julie will be able to take care of that."
Nick groaned to himself, and just the thought of Julie visiting his apartment made him weak. "I'm sure she can," he said. "In fact I'm going to call her now."
"That's fine, son," Connors said. "Keep in touch and of course I'll be seeing you over at our place."
"Yes, of course," Nick said.
He hung up and took a sip from the cardboard container and screwed up his face. The coffee was tepid and too sweet now. He threw it and the Danish into the waste-paper basket.
Nick swirled around and stared at the grey-etched skyline and told himself he had to think rationally and get moving on the Dennison account. And he had to get rid of Holly or everything would be lost.
He watched a helicopter cross behind the tall building, blinking its red and green lights on the way to the airport. And he jokingly thought he'd like to be going somewhere now, anywhere away from the dilemma in which he had suddenly landed.
Nick turned back to his desk and picked up the phone. "Miss Lewis, I want everything pulled on the Dennison account," he said. "And anything else that might be of value to planning a new campaign. And I want it all sent by messenger to my apartment." Then he thought of Holly. "No, just a minute. Well, have it prepared for a messenger, and I'll call later when I'm there."
"You're going to work at home?" Miss Lewis asked. "Does that mean I get to help you there?" And there was no mistaking the kind of help she had in mind.
"I'll be at home a few days," he said quickly. "Because of the way I feel and the weather and all, and the urgency of having a campaign outlined in less than a week. But I think for now you'll continue to work here."
There was a moment of silence. Then she said, "I guess I knew that would be what you wanted Nick, I mean Mr. Harrison."
"I'll probably need you later, of course," he mumbled, and then told himself it was absurd to make excuses to his secretary.
"I'll get on those files and things right away," Miss Lewis said, her voice again brisk and impersonal.
Nick put the receiver down and looked at the letters on his desk and signed them. Then he glanced at the memos, initialed them and put them in his out basket.
The Dennison account, he said to himself, and stood up and walked back and forth across the room. He had to create an advertising campaign that would reverse a trend of decreasing sales, and also appeal to an eccentric old lady who hated beer, particularly her own, and who drank gin from a flowered teacup.
Not much of a challenge, Nick told himself and walked over to the lavatory behind a screen in the far corner, and ran cold water and splashed the water on his face. Not much of a challenge, he repeated as he returned to his desk. Except that he was obsessed with a young girl who was waiting in his apartment.
"There's no real problem but Holly," he said aloud.
And he picked up the phone and dialed Julie's number. "Oh, Nick, I hoped this was you," she said. "I've been miserable ever since you cancelled our date last night. And when I'm unhappy I just sleep and sleep."
"Julie, I want to come over," Nick blurted out. And he admitted to himself he would never be able to throw Holly out of his apartment without the strength of having been with Julie.
"Oh, darling, that's wonderful," she said. "I'll start getting dressed. We can have a fabulous breakfast, and I have so much to tell you."
"I'm leaving now," Nick said. "And by the way, if you just got up, don't bother dressing."
"Nick, what a terrible thing to say, with the servants right here, and for all I know, listening on one of the extensions," she said.
"I don't care," he said. "I love you and I'm on my way."
"I love you too," she said, and hung up.
Nick put the phone down slowly, and sat with his hand on the receiver. He thought of how little time he had to produce an advertising campaign, and of how much he loved Julie.
Then he got up and started for the door, but his thoughts were not on beer or the girl he was going to see, but on the girl he had to throw out of his apartment.
Nick felt good and confident again as he walked into the Connors apartment. Hanson, the butler, greeted him warmly, and asked about his health, then led him back to the glassed-in terrace which overlooked the East River.
The butler seated Nick at the table and brought him a glass of cold, fresh orange juice. "Miss Julie will join you shortly," the butler said.
Nick drank the juice and looked out at the barges on the river, and down to the United Nations and over the river to the grey dullness of Queens. The sky was darker now and he saw the wind whipped white-caps along the river.
Nick had just taken the last swallow of orange juice when he heard a noise behind him and looked over his shoulder.
Julie looked ravishing in a thin, black robe which accentuated the lovely paleness of her body without hiding any of its obvious assets. Her dark eyes sparkled and her face was creased with a broad smile.
"Good morning, darling," she said and kissed his cheek, then sat down opposite him at the table.
"You look lovely," Nick said. "I don't know if I can concentrate on breakfast the way that robe flatters you, Julie. I just might reach over the table and…"
"Nick, please," Julie said with an edge on her words.
Hanson brought her juice and she sipped it slowly and then started talking about the wedding and how she had been thinking of moving the wedding up.
"You know I'm in favor of an early wedding," Nick said. "The earlier the better."
Hanson served a lavish breakfast, and Julie babbled about every minor detail of the wedding. Nick ate his omelet and stared at Julie's jutting breasts and tried to discuss the kind of flowers and what to give the attendants and the other items he considered complete trivia.
The wedding talk extended through a second cup of coffee and Nick felt Julie's robe must be nearly ready to wilt the way he stared at her. He nodded as she mentioned the kind of cars to rent for the wedding party and drained his coffee and leaned forward.
"Julie, why don't you get rid of the servants for an hour or so," he said abruptly.