Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
T hat afternoon when Sophie and I called Drake to say goodnight to him, he told me about the nasty business with Sam when Sophie gave him an air kiss goodbye and turned back to her coloring book.
“I knew she’d be a problem,” I said quietly so Sophie wouldn’t hear our conversation. I took Drake off speaker for a moment and put him on earphones.
Drake sighed. “She is being a real pain in the proverbial butt.”
“You’ll be done in a couple of weeks. Then, you can say goodbye to Sam for good. Just try to avoid her if you can. Don’t let her win.”
“I don’t plan on letting her win, but she’s a strong-willed woman.”
We spoke for a while longer about my plans to come on Tuesday after I spent the weekend with my father and Elaine, and how I would be going to the party on Friday night before going out to the beach house on Saturday for the day to see my dad.
“It’s up to you whether you come sooner or later. I’ll be busy with work regardless, but of course I would love to have you here. Both of you.”
“I’d rather be there as soon as possible, given the situation.”
We finished talking and then I called Sophie back to say goodnight to Drake. She blew him a kiss and they said their goodbyes, and then I told him I loved him and missed him and would be thinking about him later tonight when I was alone in bed.
“I’ll be thinking of you, Ms. Bennet and all the ways I will show you just how much I missed you when you get here.”
I smiled and blew him a kiss and then end the Skype call.
I sighed and put my cell away and turned back to watch Sophie, who was unconcerned about all the drama going on in the world around her, focused as she was on coloring her beloved dinosaurs.
On Friday, I was busy getting ready for the staff party among my fellow journalists. Karen Mills was available and arrived half an hour before I was to leave, so she could get Sophie’s supper ready.
“Thanks a million, Karen. You are a true Godsend,” I said as I rushed around, getting my handbag and making sure I had my cell. I had already called down for the limo service, which Drake insisted I use. I went to where Sophie was sitting at the kitchen island, waiting for the hamburger and French fries Karen was preparing.
“You be a good girl for Auntie Karen, okay? I’ll be home around midnight, if not earlier, and I’ll check on you to make sure you’re asleep.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Sophie was back coloring before the words had barely left her mouth, so I knew she was unconcerned about being left with Karen.
I kissed her on the top of her head, and then grabbed my jacket. While it was warm, I wanted to have something to cover my arms on the way home when it would be cooler.
“Thanks again, Karen. I’ll call when I’m on my way.”
“Have fun.”
I left the apartment and took the elevator down to the lobby. I checked outside and sure enough, the limo was waiting, and the driver was leaning against the hood, his cap on and at the ready.
When he saw me, he stood up straight and opened the rear passenger door for me.
“Mrs. Morgan,” he said with a smile.
“Hello, John, is it?”
“John it is,” he replied and closed the door behind me after I got inside. The interior was cool and quiet and so I had some time to decompress before I arrived at the party on campus. The June evenings were warm, and the sun was just starting to peek behind the tallest buildings around us. The drive to the paper’s business office was fast, despite the traffic. John seemed to know the best and fastest route to get there.
When we drove up to the building where the staff had booked for the party, John stopped at the curb. He glanced in the rear-view mirror. “We’re here.”
He got out of the vehicle and opened the door for me. “You said you would be a couple of hours. I’ll park about five minutes away in case you change your mind.”
“Thanks,” I said and stepped out onto the sidewalk outside the office building. “I’ll call if I want to leave earlier.”
Then, I walked up the steps to the old building, pleased that this would be my first staff party as a new journalist with the paper. I would finally be using my master’s in journalism after many stops and starts due to life intervening. I felt bad because I was a few years older than most of the other staff, who seemed to have had their lives in better order than I had, but I had to remind myself that I had quite a few big life events happen while I was trying to finish. Life events that others had little idea about and I hoped to keep it that way.
I walked into the main room where the party was being held and saw that there were already a dozen other staff members there, and while there was no music playing, the buzz of conversation was loud. I saw one of my fellow writers, Gracie, and went over to join her.
“Hey,” she said and gave me a quick hug. “I was hoping you’d come. I take it you got a babysitter?”
“Yes, we’re lucky we have an old friend who is a teacher who likes to sit with Sophie and Liam when Drake and I go out.”
We spoke for a few moments, and I glanced around, checking to see who was there.
Then, I saw him at the door. Carlton.
Carlton Page whose father owned the paper we all worked for. Carlton ran Page One — a notorious gossip section of the paper that profiled New York’s rich and famous. He was trying to compete with some of the big gossip rags, despite his father wanting him to do serious journalism. He spent a lot of time peppering me about my family, my father and the world I grew up in, probably hoping for some good gossip about Manhattan’s wealthy and powerful. On my part, I wanted to write about art and literature and escape politics, but he couldn’t seem to take the hint that we were in two different worlds.
When he walked into the room, he scanned the people, and his eyes came to rest on me. His face lit up and he came right over, a big smile on his face. I felt like laughing, but held it in. He couldn’t help himself. It seemed to be a mix of autism and extraversion. He was so extraverted he didn’t realize he was being obnoxious.
“Hey, Kate, Gracie. Glad to see some familiar faces.”
We chatted for a while, about what we were writing.
“Let’s grab a seat,” Gracie said and pointed to a collection of sofas along one wall. We went, and I was glad of a change of scenery, hoping that Carlton would go and bother someone else.
No luck.
Carlton sat directly beside me on the sofa, his arm across the back behind me. He began peppering me with questions about my plans for the summer.
“I’m flying to Kenya on Tuesday,” I said.
“Ahh,” Carlton said with a pout. “I was hoping you’d be here so we could connect and talk about your plans. There’s an opening for a local correspondent at Page One and I want you to apply. I thought you could write about the people you know among Manhattan’s rich and famous. Your father’s crowd is quite prestigious. Maybe we could meet this weekend and spend a couple of hours going over things I’d like to see in Page One.”
I smiled, frustrated that we were going over old material once more. I decided to tell him about my trip, glad to have a chance to reinforce my married status.
“I’m going to stay with my husband, Drake, who is working at the hospital in Nairobi.”
“Oh, yes, the husband. You’re too young and beautiful to be married with kids. Look at Gracie. She’s single. Everyone here is single.” He waved around the room at the other grad students.
Of course, he was right. Most of my fellow graduate students in journalism were single and at least five years younger than me.
“I’m the lucky one, I guess,” I said and smiled, raising my vodka cooler to my lips. “Happily married.”
I held my other hand out to show him my engagement and wedding rings, just to reinforce it, and he took my hand and held it, examining my ring briefly.
“He’s a big spender,” Carlton said, looking in my eyes. “You’re worth it.”
I noted that he didn’t let go of my hand quite quickly enough, and finally, awkwardly, pulled it out of his grip.
That didn’t seem to dissuade him from leaning in closer. “You say he’s in Nairobi. When the cat’s away…”
I laughed in his face at that. I knew he was just being charming, trying to flatter me, but still. It seemed like such an obvious move.
“When the big cat’s away, this mouse is counting the days until we’re together again. No playing on my part.”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt me.” He wagged his eyebrows dramatically.
I laughed again, and realized he was just enjoying playing around.
“I didn’t know you were a Lothario,” I said, referencing Don Quixote by Cervantes.
“One of the best,” he replied, grinning. “Seriously. It’s just hard for me to believe you’re married with two kids and some old neurosurgeon husband. You look so young. You and I could really get some serious work done and make Page One a big success. It would mean a lot of extra money for the paper, and of course, a rise in pay for you.”
He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.
Then, I heard a series of clicks that sounded like a camera. When I glanced up, Kent, one of the photographers working for Carlton, was taking photos of us.
I frowned. I didn’t want any photos with Carlton leaning over me possessively to be the one people remembered. Before I could say or do anything, Kent moved on to take photos of another group of students.
“I have to use the washroom,” I said and got up from the sofa. I hoped it would give me a chance to escape Carlton and planned on chatting with some other students.
“Think about what I said,” Carlton added and stood up, grabbing my arm. “If you make me happy, you have a really good future ahead of you at the paper.”
I slid my arm out of his and smiled, then I went to the washroom in the back of the big convention room, glad I was free of Carlton. Was that an offer or a threat? I didn’t know which. I used the washroom and when I was done, I spoke with Dana while I washed my hands. Dana was one of the other staff writers who was there, primping before the mirror.
“So, this is your first party,” she said, glancing at me when I was finished and was washing my hands. “What are you going to write about next? Any ideas?”
I smiled. “I have lots of ideas. There are new book releases, gallery openings, and art exhibits. I’ll probably try to work from home as much as possible while my kids are young.”
She nodded. “I don’t even have a boyfriend. I’ll be hoping for something in print if I have my preferences and stop working for Page One. I want the real deal. Old style journalism. None of this new BS that’s all about getting eyeballs on a website.”
We spoke for a while about the perils of modern journalism and the decline of the old fifth estate, as it’s called. Then, I walked out of the washroom only to find that Carlton was heading out of the men’s room.
“There you are,” he said and stopped. “Didn’t think you could escape me that easily, did you?”
I tried to keep walking by. “I’m off to get another drink.”
He grabbed my arm and physically stopped me. “Come back and sit with me again. I wanted to talk to you about some ideas I have for articles.”
I smiled and tried to extricate my arm from his grip. “I’ll go get that other drink now,” I said and kept walking. Dana was already back in the main conference room, chatting with someone else.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Carlton called out as he went into the men’s room.
I took in a deep breath, not looking forward to having him pester me all evening. I went to another small group of students I knew from classes, and joined them, hoping I could avoid Carlton’s attentions by appearing busy.
It worked for a while. I saw him leave the men’s room and glance around when he came back into the main room. His eyes came to rest on me and sure enough, he made a beeline to me, his eyebrows raised. He joined our group and came to stand beside me.
Of course, no one thought a thing about it. They didn’t know Carlton had decided I was his for the night, despite me trying to escape his clutches. While he was busy chatting with someone beside him, I took the opportunity to leave, and went to another group of writers who were chatting with one of the editors. Ira Pearson, who taught investigative reporting at Columbia, was talking about some of the work he’d done on political campaigns. I listened eagerly, because I might be interested in working in that area. For the next half hour, it seemed like Carlton had thought better of his attempts to monopolize my time and I started to relax and enjoy myself.
Finally, at around midnight, I checked my watch and called John.
I was ready to leave.
Unfortunately, Carlton didn’t think I should go without at least one more attempt to seduce me.
I didn’t know what his endgame was but when he saw me heading towards the exit, he rushed over.
“Leaving so soon? It’s not even midnight. Why don’t you come with me and a few of the other staff to a rave that’s being held down the street.”
I made a face. “A rave? What — are we teenagers?”
“Come on,” he said and grabbed my hand, undeterred by my sarcasm. “Come and dance. Have some fun. Let your hair down.”
“I don’t think so, I said and slipped my hand out of his. “My driver is waiting outside, so I have to go.”
“Your driver can take us all there,” he said with a smile. “Great!”
“No,” I said. “I really have to get home. My babysitter will be expecting me at midnight.”
“Oh, so does your car turns into a pumpkin at midnight?”
I laughed at that. “Hardly.”
I made my way out of the main room and down the stairs to the front entrance. We walked along the path to the driveway where the valets and taxis were waiting. I glanced around to see where John was.
“How old is he,” Carlton asked, following me.
“My husband, Drake, in his early forties,” I said and of course, it must have sounded old to Carlton, who I assumed was maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven at the most.
“Ahh, in other words, an old rich guy.”
I saw the limo parked at the curb, and John was standing beside the rear passenger door, waiting. I sighed with relief and walked over to where he was.
“Hi, John,” I said when he opened the door.
Carlton was still undeterred. “Get him to drop us off down the street at Franklin Building. That’s where the rave is.”
I put my hand on Carlton’s chest to stop him. “I’m going home, Carlton. Good night.”
He raised his hands up in surrender. “Oh, all right. If you must play hard to get…”
I didn’t reply, glad to be able to sit in the limo’s quiet cool interior. Alone.
John closed the door for me, and I fastened my seatbelt. Outside on the street, Carlton stood and mimed a phone held to his hear.
“Call me,” he yelled as we drove off.
“Not likely,” I said under my breath, glad that it was finally over.
I arrived home by half-past twelve and after thanking John and asking him to wait to give Karen Mills a ride home, I took the elevator to the penthouse. Karen was seated in the sectional watching something on the flatscreen, a magazine in hand.
“You have fun?” she asked as she stood and grabbed her bag.
“I was pestered by this suitor who wouldn’t take my hints about being a happily married mother of two.”
“That’s always fun,” Karen said with a laugh. “Some men…”
I walked her to the door as we talked about how the evening went.
“Sophie was a dream. We watched a movie and ate popcorn and then she had a bath and went to bed. No problem. We should all have such good-natured children.”
“We’re very lucky and we both know it,” I said and held the door for her while she pressed the elevator button. “John is waiting outside to take you home. Thanks again.”
“No problem. Call me whenever you need a sitter.”
I waved at her goodbye and then went into the apartment, sighing with relief that soon, we’d be on the plane to Nairobi, and I would be back in the arms of the love of my life.
Until then, I had to pack and get ready for our trip out to the beach house so I could say goodbye to my father and Elaine.
I yawned, and then checked in on Sophie, who was fast asleep.
She was such a good-natured child, so easy going.
We truly were lucky.