“How do you like it?”
“I think you're a scream.”
“Yeah, but doesn't it look good? Just think how your other stuff would look blown up and mounted in the medical center buildings. Wouldn't that be a thrill?” He was a thrill, but she couldn't tell him that. “Come on, let's go have breakfast and talk.” This morning he wasn't taking no for an answer. He had cleared his morning schedule just for her. And she found his determination touching as well as amusing. She just wasn't in the mood for another fight.
“I should say no, but I won't.”
“That's better. Can I give you a ride?”
“In that?” She pointed to the track and started laughing again.
“Sure. Why not?”
So they hopped into the cab of the truck and headed down to Fisherman's Wharf for breakfast. Trucks were a familiar sight there, and no one was going to walk off with a photograph that size.
Surprisingly, it was a very pleasant breakfast. They both put aside the war, at least until the coffee.
“Well, have I convinced you?” He looked very sure of himself as he smiled at her over his cup.
“No. But I've had a very nice time.”
“I suppose I should be grateful for small favors, but that's not my style.”
“What is your style? In your own words.”
“You mean you're giving me a chance to explain myself, instead of your telling me what I am?” He was teasing, but there was an edge to his voice. She had come too close to home with some of her comments the day before. “All right, I'll tell you. In some ways you're right. I live for my work.”
“Why? Don't you have anything else in your life?”
“Not really. Most successful people probably don't. There just isn't room.”
“That's stupid. You don't have to exchange your life for success. Some people have both.”
“Do you?”
“Not entirely. But maybe one day I will. I know it's possible anyway.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe my incentive isn't what it used to be.” Her eyes grew soft at the words. “My life has changed a great deal in the last few years. I didn't wind up doing any of the things I once planned to. But … I've had some damn nice compensations.” Like becoming president of Cotter-Hillyard, but he was embarrassed to say it.
“I see. I take it you're not married.”
“Nope. No time. No interest.” How lovely. Then it was probably just as well they hadn't married after all.
“You make it sound very cut-and-dried.”
“For the moment it is. And you?”
“I'm not married either.”
“You know, for all your condemnation of my way of life, I can't see that yours is all that different from mine. You're just as obsessed with your work as I am with mine, just as lonely, just as locked away in your own little world. So why are you so hard on me? It's not very fair.” His voice was soft but reproachful.
“I'm sorry. Maybe you're right.” It was hard to argue the point. And then, as she thought over what he had said, she felt his hand on hers, and it was like a knife in her heart. She pulled it away with a stricken look in her eyes. And he looked unhappy again.
“You're a very difficult woman to understand.”
“I suppose I am. There's a lot that would be impossible to explain.”
“You ought to try me sometime. I'm not the monster you seem to think I am.”
“I'm sure you aren't.” As she looked at him, all she wanted to do was cry. This was like saying good-bye to him. It was knowing, all over again, what she could never have. But maybe she would understand it better now. Maybe she would finally be able to let go. With a small sigh she looked at her watch. “I really should get to work.”
“Have I gotten any closer to a yes in answer to our proposal?”
“I'm afraid not.”
He hated to admit it, but he would have to give up. He knew now that she would never change her mind. All his efforts had been for nothing. She was one very tough woman. But he liked her. He was surprised just how much, when she let down her guard. There was a softness and a kindness that drew him to her in a way that he hadn't been drawn to anyone in years. “Do you suppose that I could talk you into having dinner with me, Marie? Sort of a consolation prize, since I don't get my deal?” She laughed softly at the look on his face and patted his hand.
“I'd like that sometime. But not just now. I'm afraid I'll be going out of town.” Damn. He had really lost this one, round after round.
“Where are you going?”
“Back east. To take care of some personal business.” She had made the decision in the last half hour. But now she knew what she had to do. It was not a question of burying the past, but unburying it. In a way, Peter had been right. And now she was sure. She had to “heal it” as he had said.
“I'll call the next time I'm in San Francisco. I hope I'll have better luck.”
Maybe. And maybe by then I'll be Mrs. Peter Gregson. Maybe by then I'll be healed. And it won't matter anymore. Not at all.
They walked quietly back to the truck, and he dropped her off at her apartment She said very little when she left him. She thanked him for breakfast, shook his hand, and walked back up the steps. He had lost. And as he watched her go he felt an overwhelming sadness. It was as though he had lost something very special. He wasn't quite sure what. A business deal, a woman, a friend? Something. For the first time in a long time, he felt unbearably alone. He shoved the truck into gear, and drove grimly through Pacific Heights and up the hill back to his hotel.
Marie was already on the phone to Peter Gregson.
“Tonight? Darling, I have a meeting.” He sounded flustered, and he was in a hurry between patients.
“Then come after the meeting. It's important. I'm leaving tomorrow.”
“For where? For how long?” He sounded worried.
“I'll tell you when I see you. Tonight?”
“All right, all right. Around eleven. But that's really foolish, Marie. Can't this thing wait?”
“No.” It had waited two years, and she had been crazy to let it sit for that long.
“All right. I'll see you tonight.” He had hung up in a hurry, and she called the airline to make a reservation, and the vet to make arrangements for Fred.
Chapter 29
Marie had been lucky. There had been a cancellation that afternoon, so now she found herself sitting in the familiar, comfortable room she had not visited in months. She sat back against the couch and stretched her legs toward the unlit fireplace, as though by habit, staring absently at her feet in delicate sandals. Her thoughts were so far away that she didn't hear Faye come in.
“Are you meditating or just falling asleep?”
Marie looked up with a smile as Faye sat down in the seat across from her. “Just thinking. It's good to see you.” Actually, she was surprised how good it felt to be back. There was a feeling of homecoming in just being there, an ease about fitting back into an old and happy groove. She had had some good moments in that room, as well as some difficult ones.
“Should I tell you that you look marvelous, or are you already tired of hearing it?” Faye beamed at the girl, and Marie laughed.
“I never get tired of hearing it.” Only with Faye would she dare to be that honest. “I guess you want to know why I'm here.” Her face sobered as she looked into the other woman's eyes.