“I'm not sure Bill would be able to join us. He's working late every night before he leaves for London for the trial. But I'll ask him.”
“Would you want to come without him? She's a nice girl,” and then Tanya looked embarrassed. She was acting as though she was an unknown actress. “I should probably tell you it's Felicia Davenport, so you don't faint when you meet her. I've known her for years, and she's really terrific.”
“You disgusting name-dropper.” Mary Stuart was laughing at her, she was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, and she was taking her first stab at Broadway. Mary Stuart had just read about it in the New York Times on Sunday. “It's a good thing you told me before I met her. I would have died, you're right. You dummy.” They were both laughing as they left the restaurant, and Tanya told her she could let her know about the party in the morning. It was at Felicia's rented town house in the East Sixties.
Tanya dropped Mary Stuart off at her apartment then, and she promised to watch Tanya on the show the next morning, and she hugged her tightly as she left her. “Thanks for tonight, Tan. It's so good to see you.” She hadn't even realized how brittle and lonely she was until she saw her friend. She and Bill had barely spoken to each other all year, and she felt like a plant that hadn't been watered. But seeing Tanya had been like standing in a rainstorm getting revitalized again. And she was smiling when she walked into the building with a spring in her step, and nodded at the doorman.
“Good evening, Mrs. Walker,” he said, and tipped his hat to her, as he always did. The elevator man told her Bill had come in just a few minutes before her. And when she let herself in, she found him in the den, putting away some papers. She was in good spirits, and she smiled at him, as he turned to face her. And he looked startled to see her expression, as though they had both forgotten what it was like to have a good time, to be with friends, to talk to each other.
“Where were you?” He looked surprised. She looked like an entirely different person, and he couldn't imagine where she'd been at that hour, in blue jeans.
“Tanya Thomas is in town, we just had dinner. It was great to see her.” She felt like a drunk in church, as she grinned at him, and seemed to have suddenly forgotten the solemnity of the last year, the silence that had sprung up like a wall between them. She felt suddenly too loud, too jovial, and surprisingly awkward with her husband. “I'm sorry to come home so late… I left you a note…” She faltered, feeling herself shrink as she looked at him. His eyes were so cold, his face so expressionless. The handsome, chiseled features that she had loved for so long had turned to stone in the past year, along with everything else about him. He had taken so much distance from her that she couldn't even see him anymore, much less find him. All she could hear was an echo of what had been.
“I didn't see the note.” It was a statement more than an accusation. And as she looked at him, she often found herself wishing he weren't still so handsome. He was fifty-four years old, and he was well over six feet tall, with an athletic physique, and a long lean body. He had piercing blue eyes, which had looked like ice for a year now.
“I'm sorry, Bill,” she said quietly. She felt as though she had spent a lifetime apologizing to him for something she should never have been blamed for. But she knew he would never forgive her. “I left the note in the kitchen.”
“I ate at the office.”
“How's it going?” she asked, as he put the rest of his papers in his briefcase.
“Very well, thanks,” he said, as though talking to a secretary or a stranger. “We're almost ready. It's going to be a very interesting trial,” he said, and then turned off the light in the den, as though to dismiss her. He was carrying his briefcase to their bedroom. It was something he would never have done a year before, and it was a small thing, but it no longer mattered. “I think we're actually going to leave for London a little early.” He had said nothing to her until now. He had just made his plans, and that was it, as though he no longer had to consult her. She wanted to know what “early” meant in this case, but she didn't dare ask him. It would probably just annoy him.
If he was leaving early, maybe she would too, although she still didn't have the final details. They had reservations in hotels in Paris, St.-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, San Remo, Florence, and Rome, and they were going to be staying at Claridge's with Bill in London. It was going to be a terrific trip, and after their months apart, Mary Stuart was really looking forward to traveling with her daughter. She had just turned twenty in April. Her birthday was a week before her brother's. And both days had been important to Mary Stuart,
And as Bill put down his briefcase and headed for their bathroom to put his pajamas on, Mary Stuart remembered Tanya's invitation, and she told him about it. “I think it's a cocktail party or something. It's being given by Felicia Davenport. Apparently, she's a friend of Tanya's.” And at the look on his face, she felt like a fourteen-year-old asking her father to go to the senior prom. He looked appalled that she had even dared to ask him. “I think you might enjoy it. Her new play has gotten rave reviews, and Tanya says she's a nice woman.”
“I'm sure that's true, but I have to work late again tomorrow night. This is an enormous case we're preparing, Mary Stuart. I thought you understood that.” It was a reproach even more than a refusal, and his tone suddenly annoyed her.
“I do, but you have to admit, it's an unusual invitation. I think we should go.” She wanted to do it. She was tired of sitting home and grieving. Seeing Tanya had reminded her there was a whole world out there-even with her own problems, and worries about Tony, her lawsuits, and the tabloids, she wasn't sitting at home, crying in the corner. It had reminded Mary Stuart that there were other options.
“It's out of the question for me,” he said firmly, “but you're welcome to go if you want to.” He closed the door to the bathroom and when he came out, his wife was waiting for him with a purposeful look.
“I will,” she said, with a stubborn look in her eyes, as though she expected him to fight her.
“Will what?” He looked completely confused by what she was saying. And if he didn't know her better, he would have thought she'd been drinking. She was behaving very strangely. “What are you talking about?” he said, looking annoyed, and unaware of the fact that she seemed more relaxed than usual and actually looked very pretty.
“I will go to the party,” she said, looking determined.
“Fine. And I will not, as long as you understand that. It'll be fun for you to meet people like that. Tanya certainly seems to have interesting friends, but that's hardly surprising.” He seemed to forget about it then, and went to bed with a stack of magazines he needed to glance through for legal and business purposes. There were several articles about some of his clients. And Mary Stuart disappeared into the bathroom, and emerged ten minutes later in a white cotton nightgown. She could have worn chain mail or a hair shirt and he wouldn't have noticed, and she lay in bed quietly while he read, thinking about her conversation with Tanya, and the things she had said about Tony. She wondered if Tanya was right, and if he really would be leaving soon, or if he would stick around and work it out. It seemed so unfair of him not to stand by Tanya, but she seemed resigned to his defection, and almost to expect it. Mary Stuart couldn't help wondering if Tanya should take a less accepting role, and at least try to stop him. It was so easy to look at someone else's life and decide what they should do. She had been completely unable to do it in her own life. In the past year, she had been completely helpless to reverse the tides, or to reach Bill at any time. He was totally beyond her reach, behind a wall of ice that grew thicker and thicker by the moment. She felt as though she hadn't really seen him in months, and she had begun to lose hope of ever reaching him again. She had no idea what they would do about their future. And he was certainly not open to discussion about that either. She had the feeling that if she had even mentioned it to him, he would have acted as though she were crazy. As he had tonight, when she came home with a lighter step, and a smile on her face. He had looked at her as though she came from another planet. It was obvious that laughter was no longer to be tolerated, and any kind of closeness between them was a thing of the distant past. And she only really noticed how bad it had become when she saw them through other people's eyes. Alyssa had looked horrified when she came home at Christmas, and couldn't wait to go back to Paris. And yet, as awful as it was for all of them, Mary Stuart had no idea how to stop it. And Bill didn't want to.