Danielle Steel - The Promise

“That's nice. So what's new?” The talk between them was still strained. They had seen each other twice since Ben arrived from Boston, but the effort of staying off the subject of Nancy was almost too much for them. It was all either of them could think of. “The doctor says I can start work next week.”

Michael laughed and shook his head. “You're stark staring crazy, Ben.”

“And you're not?”

A cloud passed over Mike's eyes. “I didn't break anything.” Nothing you could see anyway. “I told you, you've got a month. Two if you need it. Why don't you go to Europe with your sister?”

“And do what? Sit in a wheelchair and dream about bikinis? I want to come to work. How about two weeks?”

“We'll see.” There was a long silence and then suddenly Mike looked at his friend with an expression of bitterness Ben had never seen before. “And then what?”

“What do you mean, Mike, ‘and then what?’”

“Just that. We work our asses off for the next fifty years, screw as many people as we can, make as much money as we can, and so what? So Goddamn what?”

“You're in a wonderful mood. What happened? Slam your finger in your desk this morning?”

“Oh for Chrissake, be serious for a change, will you? I mean it. Don't you ever think of that? What the hell does it all mean?” Ben knew what he meant, and there was no avoiding the questions now.

“I don't know, Mike. The accident made me think of that, too. It made me ask myself what's important in my life, what I believe in.”

“And what did you come up with?”

“I'm not sure. I think I'm just grateful to be here. Maybe it taught me how important life is, how good it is while you have it.” There were tears in his eyes as he spoke. “I still don't understand why it happened the way it did. I wish … I wish ….” His voice broke on the words. “I wish it had been me.”

Mike closed his eyes on the tears in his own eyes and then came slowly around the desk to his friend. They stood there for a moment, the two of them, tears running slowly down their faces, holding tight to each other, and feeling the friendship of ten years comfort them as little else could. “Thanks, Ben.”

“Hey, listen.” Ben wiped the tears from his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket. “You want to go out and get smashed? Hell, it's your birthday, why not?” For a minute Mike laughed, and then like a small boy drawn into a conspiracy, he nodded.

“Hell, it's almost five o'clock. I don't have any more meetings I'm supposed to be at. We'll go to the Oak Room and tie one on.” He assisted Ben from the room, and then into a cab, and half an hour later they were well on their way to a major blow-out. Mike didn't get back to his mother's apartment until after midnight, and when he did he required a considerable amount of help from the doorman to get upstairs. The next morning when the maid came in, she found him asleep on the floor of his room. But at least he had gotten through the birthday.

He could hardly see when he got to the breakfast table the next morning. His mother was already there, in a black dress, reading The New York Times.

He wanted to throw up when he smelled the sweet rolls and coffee.

“You must have had an interesting time last night.” Her tone was glacial.

“I was out with Ben.”

“So your secretary told me. I hope you won't make a habit of this.”

Oh, Jesus. Why not? “What? Getting smashed?”

“No. Leaving early. And actually, the other, too. You must have looked charming when you came home.”

“I can't remember.” He was trying desperately not to gag on his coffee.

“There's something else you didn't remember.” She put the paper down on the table and glared at him. “We had a dinner date last night, at Twenty-one. I waited for you for two hours. With nine other people. Your birthday—remember?”

Christ. That would have been all he needed. “You never told me about nine people. You just asked me to dinner. I thought it would have been just the two of us.” It was a moot point now, of course.

“And it was all right to stand up just me, is that it?”

“No, I just forgot, for Chrissake. This wasn't exactly my favorite birthday.”

“I'm sorry.” But she didn't sound as though she remembered why this birthday was different, or as though she really cared. She sounded miffed.

“And that brings up another point, Mother. I'm going to move out and get my own place.”

She looked up, surprised “Why?”

“Because I'm twenty-five years old. I work for you, Mother. I don't have to live with you, too.”

“You don't ‘have’ to do anything.” She was beginning to wonder about the Avery boy and just what kind of influence he was. This sounded like his idea.

“Mother, let's not get into this now. I have an incredible headache.”

“Hangover.” She looked at her watch and stood up. “I'll see you at the office in half an hour. Don't forget the meeting with the people from Houston. Are you up to it?”

“I will be. And Mom … I'm sorry about the apartment, but I think it's time.”

She looked at him sternly for a moment and then let out a small sigh. “Maybe it is, Michael. Maybe it is. Happy birthday, by the way.” She bent down to kiss him, and he even smiled despite the terrible ache in his head. “I left you a little present on your desk.”

“You shouldn't have.” There was no present that mattered anymore. Ben had understood that. He had given him nothing.

“Birthdays are birthdays after all, Michael. See you at the office.”

After she left he sat for a long time in the dining room, looking at the view. He knew just the apartment he wanted. Only it was in Boston. But he was going to do his damnedest to find one just like it in New York. In some ways he still hadn't given up the dream. Even though he knew he was crazy to cling to it.

Chapter 9

“Hi, Sue. Is Mr. Hillyard in?” Ben had the look of five o'clock as he arrived at Mike's office door: not quite disheveled, but relieved that the day was almost over. He'd barely had time to sit down all day long, let alone relax.

“He is. Shall I let him know you're here?” She smiled at him, and he felt his eyes drawn to the carefully concealed figure. Marion Hillyard did not approve of sexy secretaries, even for her son … or was it especially for her son? Ben wondered as he shook his head.

“No, thanks. I'll announce myself.” He strode past her desk, carrying the files that had been his excuse, and knocked on the heavy oak door. “Anybody home?” There was no answer so he knocked again. And still got no reply. He turned questioningly to the secretary. “You're sure he's in there?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” Ben tried again and this time a hoarse croak from the other side urged him in. Ben cautiously opened the door and looked around “You asleep or something?” Michael looked up and grinned at his friend.

“I wish. Look at this mess.” He sat surrounded by folders, mock-ups, drawings, designs, reports. It was enough to keep ten men busy for a year. “Sit down, Ben.”

“Thanks, boss.” Ben couldn't resist teasing him.

“Oh, shut up. What's with the files you brought me?” He ran a hand through his hair and sat back in the heavy leather desk chair he had grown accustomed to. He had even gotten used to the impersonal prints on the walls. It didn't matter anymore. He didn't give a damn. He never looked at the walls, or his office, or his secretary … or his life. He looked at the work on his desk and very little else. It had been four months. “Please don't tell me you've brought me another set of problems with that damn shopping center in Kansas City. They're driving me nuts.”