“And I can’t tell Walter to sell his own ugly shoes because I’m having dinner with the mayor.”
“You don’t even like the shoes he sells.”
“No, I don’t, but it’s my job.” It was the first time George had put pressure on her, but the dinner was important to him. The mayor and his wife were clients, and he didn’t want to offend them. But she didn’t want to offend her boss. Walter was difficult enough as it was, and he would read about the evening in the papers. He was scanning them daily now for mention of her, so he could complain that she was out partying too much to do her job. She wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire by refusing to go to an important trade show with him, even if it sounded insignificant to George.
“You don’t even like your job,” he reminded her. “You want to quit.”
“That’s true. But I don’t want to get fired. It may sound tacky to you, but I need the money, and this is what I do.”
“I didn’t say it was tacky, I said it was ridiculous to cater to that ogre you work for. Let him sell his own damn shoes in Orlando.”
“This is what he pays me for.” There was no way to resolve the argument unless she agreed to go with George, and she couldn’t do that, whether George understood it or not. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of since the beginning, that he would try to force her to quit her job at some point, and then she’d be dependent on him. That was precisely what she didn’t want, and surely not this early in the relationship, or even later on. She had to have the ability to work and earn her salary, whether he liked it or not. She was sorry to miss the party with him, but if she didn’t want to get fired, she had no choice. And she didn’t want to give up her job with Arthur Adams until she had another one, hopefully a better one, which she wouldn’t get if she got fired from the one she had. She knew that George understood the concept, he just didn’t like her saying no. The word was unfamiliar to him.
They finished dinner in silence, and he took her home to Hell’s Kitchen in the Ferrari in a huff, and went back to his apartment after he dropped her off. He never stayed at the loft with her anyway, but he didn’t invite her to stay with him uptown that night. He was mad. And she held her ground. But she was depressed the next day about the argument, and she looked glum at her desk, when a messenger walked in carrying an enormous bouquet of roses with a card that said, “I’m sorry I was such a jerk last night. Go to Orlando. I love you. G.” She smiled the minute she saw it and called him immediately, and thanked him for being understanding.
“I’m sorry, Claire. I was just disappointed. I wanted to go with you and show you off.”
“I’d much rather be with you than in Orlando,” she said honestly, and then noticed that Walter was standing there, listening to her, and she told George she had to get off. This was a headache she did not need.
“So are you coming to Orlando or not?” her boss asked her angrily.
“Of course I’m coming.”
“Then what are the flowers about?”
“He loves me, that’s all,” she said nervously.
“You’re going to wind up marrying him and quitting,” he said, looking sour.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly, “except to Orlando with you.”
“Fine,” he said gruffly, and stalked out of her office. She always felt like she was on thin ice with him now, but better with him than with George. And she was relieved that they had resolved their first big argument nicely, and he had backed down.
And that night, George told her he was taking her away for the weekend, and it was a surprise. He told her to pack summer clothes, and she couldn’t wait to find out where they were going. He was a good secret keeper, and she didn’t find out till Saturday morning when they got on the plane. He was taking her to the Turks and Caicos. He had told her to “think beach,” so she had brought the right clothes. He had rented a private villa with their own pool, at the best resort on the island. He still felt guilty about their fight and wanted to make it up to her, which he did. They hardly put their clothes on all weekend, and spent most of it in bed, and the rest lying naked by their private pool, making love in it, or having dinners served on their private patio at night. It was a fabulous weekend.
And two days after she got back, she went to Orlando with Walter, in coach on a commercial flight, to stay at a Holiday Inn, and George went to the mayor’s black-tie dinner. She called him as soon as she checked in to the hotel.
“You’ve ruined me,” she teased him. “Do you know what it’s like to fly coach again and stay at the Holiday Inn after our incredible weekend? I feel like Cinderella after the ball, with no glass slipper. This sucks.” He laughed at her and told her it served her right for not coming to the dinner with him. But he also said he missed her, and couldn’t wait for her to come back in two days.
The trade show was as boring and tedious as ever, and exhausting, and George took her to dinner the night she got back. They had dinner at Max’s, and he told her all about the dinner she had missed. He had sat next to the mayor’s wife and Lady Gaga, and said he’d had a boring time without her, which was hard to imagine and flattering, given who was there. He wasn’t angry at her anymore, just happy to have her back in New York. And the following week he was going to Aspen, and she was going to San Francisco for Thanksgiving with her parents. She hated to leave him for that too, but she knew he’d have fun on the slopes, and he had friends there. He went several times a year, and was an expert skier. He was going to have a lot more fun than she was, without a doubt.
On Tuesday night before the Thanksgiving weekend, George had their own Thanksgiving dinner catered by “21” for them at his apartment, and the meal was delicious, better than most Thanksgivings. The turkey wasn’t dry, the stuffing was perfect, there was cranberry jelly, mashed potatoes, an assortment of vegetables, and pumpkin, pecan, and apple pie for dessert, with whipped cream.
“I thought we should have our own Thanksgiving dinner, since we won’t be together,” he said lovingly to Claire. “I’m sorry I’m such a no-show about holidays. They just upset me, and Christmas is even worse. It’s the worst day of the year for me. It brings up all my old stuff. I’d rather just ignore it, and ski my ass off in Aspen, but I’m going to miss you,” he said, and kissed her. And after dinner they went to bed. They had agreed that she wouldn’t spend the night, since he was leaving too early the next morning. He was planning to get up at five and leave the apartment by six. But he wanted to make love to her before they both left.
“I want to give you something to remember when you’re in San Francisco,” he teased her. And he made it a memorable evening for her. They made love as passionately as they had the first time. He was an incredible lover, and she was learning a lot from him. He was patient and gentle and had learned her body well, and everything that pleasured her, and at other times he was so passionate he was almost rough, but everything he did to her made her body keen for him again and again. He made love to her twice, and the second time, he lay in bed looking at her afterward, and said something that touched her deeply.
“I want to have babies with you one day, Claire. Please tell me you’ll be the mother of my children.” He looked so serious when he said it that she didn’t have the heart to refuse him, and for the first time in her life she nodded and said yes, and meant it. And he clung to her after that like a drowning child. “I love you so much,” he said to her, and then regretfully they got up, and he drove her home, and kissed her for a long time before she got out. “I’m going to miss you. Take good care of yourself. See you Sunday.” She walked into the building and felt like she was on a cloud, remembering what he’d said. It was already two o’clock, and he had to get up in three hours. It was going to be a short night for him. But he could sleep on the plane on the way to Colorado. Her flight was leaving at ten o’clock so she had to get up early too.