Danielle Steel - Passion's Promise

“Something else? Or someone else, should I say?”

Kezia could almost feel her back begin to bristle. “Darling, you worry too much.”

“Perhaps I have reason to.”

“Not at my age, you don’t.” She tucked his hand into her arm, and walked him into a circle of his friends, curtailing the conversation, but not allaying his fears. He knew her too well. Something had happened. Something that had never happened before, and she was already subtly altered. He felt it. Knew it. She looked much too happy and much too calm, and as though she had finally flown free from his reach. She was gone now. She wasn’t even at Carla FitzMatthews’s elaborate party. And only Edward knew that. The only thing he didn’t know was where she really was. Or with whom.

It was half an hour later before Edward noticed that Kezia had left the party. An inquiry here and there told him that she had left alone. It disturbed him. She was not dressed to go gallivanting around the city alone, and he wasn’t sure that Whit had left her the car. Rotten little faggot, he could at least have done that much for her.

He said his goodnights and hailed a cab to take him to his own apartment on East Eighty-third but somehow he found himself giving the driver Kezia’s address. He was horrified. He had never done that before. Such foolishness … at his age … she was a grown woman … and perhaps she wasn’t alone … but … he simply had to.

“Kezia?” She answered on the first ring of the house-phone, as Edward stood in embarrassment next to the doorman.

“Edward? Is something wrong?”

“No. And I’m sorry to do this, but may I come up?”

“Of course.” She hung up and he was upstairs a moment later.

She was waiting for him in the open doorway, as he emerged from the elevator. She looked suddenly worried as she stood barefoot in her evening gown, her hair loose, and her jewelry put away. And Edward found himself feeling like a fool.

“Edward, are you all right?” He nodded and she let him into the apartment.

“Kezia … I … I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come, but I had to make sure you’d gotten home all right. I don’t like to think of you dripping in diamonds and going home unescorted.”

“Darling, darling worrywart, is that all?” She laughed softly and her face broke into a smile. “Good God, Edward, I thought something dreadful had happened.”

“Maybe it did.”

“Oh?” Her face grew serious again for a moment.

“I think I finally became senile tonight. I suppose I should have called instead of dropping by.”

“Well, now that you’re here, how about a drink?” She didn’t deny that he should have called, but she was always gracious. “Some poire, or framboise?” She waved him into a chair and went to the Chinese inlaid chest where she kept the liquor. Edward remembered it well; he had been with her mother when she had bought it at Sotheby’s.

“Poire, thank you, dear.” He sank tiredly into one of the familiar blue velvet chairs, and watched her pour the potent transparent liqueur into a tiny glass. “You really are a good sport about your old Uncle Edward.”

“Don’t be silly.” She handed him the drink with a smile and sank to the floor near his feet.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” She waved the compliment away and lit a cigarette, as he sipped at his poire. She was beginning to wonder if he’d already had too much to drink. He seemed a bit doleful as the moments ticked on. And she was waiting for a phone call from Luke.

“I’m glad you’re all right” he began. And then he couldn’t stop himself anymore. “Kezia, what are you up to?” He simply had to know.

“Absolutely nothing. I’m sitting here next to you and I had been about to get undressed and do some work on the column. I want to phone it in in the morning…. I don’t think Carla’s going to like me when I do. She’s too easy to poke fun at. I couldn’t resist.”

Kezia was trying to keep things light but Edward looked older and more tired than she had ever seen him.

“Can’t you be serious for a moment? I didn’t mean what you were doing right now. I meant … well, you look different lately.”

“How lately?”

“Tonight.”

“Do I look worried, sick, unhappy, undernourished? What kind of different?” She didn’t like his questioning and now she was going to turn it around on him quickly. It was high time to stop this kind of nonsense. And she didn’t want any more unannounced late night visits.

“No, no, nothing like that. You look extremely well.”

“And you’re worried?”

“Yes, but … all right, all right, dammit. You know what I mean, Kezia. And you’re just like your bloody father. You don’t tell anyone anything until after the fact. And then everyone else has to pick up the pieces.”

“Darling, I assure you, you will never have to pick up any pieces, not for me. And since we both agree that I look rested, healthy, and well-fed, my account is not overdrawn, and I have not appeared naked at the Oak Room … what is there to worry about?” Her voice was only a trifle sharp.

“You’re being evasive.” He sighed. He didn’t have a chance and he knew it.

“No, darling. I’m enjoying the right to a little privacy, no matter how much I love you, or how good a father you’ve been to me. I’m all grown up now, love. I don’t ask if you sleep with your maid or your secretary, or what sort of things you do alone in the bathroom at night.” Something about Edward told her he’d perform rituals like that in the bathroom, where they “belonged.”

“Kezia! That’s shocking!” He looked angry and pained. Nothing went his way anymore. Not with her.

“It’s no more shocking than what you’re basically asking me. You just say it more gently than I do.”

“All right. I understand.”

“I’m glad.” It was high time. “But just to put your fidgety old soul to rest, I can honestly tell you that there’s nothing for you to worry about right now. Nothing.”

“Will you tell me when there is?”

“Would I cheat you of an opportunity to worry?”

He laughed and sat back in his chair. “All right. I’m impossible. I know it, and I’m sorry. No … I’m not sorry. I like knowing that all’s right with your life. And now I’ll let you finish your work. You must have gotten some good items for the column tonight.” The room had been ripe with gossip. And he was embarrassed at having probed, at being in her apartment at all, at this unsuitable hour. It wasn’t easy being a surrogate father. And even less so being in love with your surrogate child.

“I got some very good items, as a matter of fact, along with tales of Carla’s orgy of opulence. It really is a disgrace to spend thousands on a party.”

She sounded like the old Kezia again, the one who didn’t frighten him, the one he knew so well and who would always be his.

“And of course I’ll include me in the gossip,” she announced with a bright smile.

“Little wretch. What are you going to say about yourself? That you looked stunningly beautiful, I hope.”

“No, well, maybe a mention of the dress. But actually I’ve written up Whit’s charming exit.”

Was she angry? Could she possibly care? “But why?”

“Because, to put it bluntly, the time for fun and games is over. I think it’s time Whit went his way and I went mine. And Whit hasn’t got the balls to do it, and maybe neither have I, so if I run something embarrassing, his friend on Sutton Place will do it for us. If he’s anyone at all, he won’t tolerate Whit being publicly ridiculed.”

“My God, Kezia. What did you write?”

“Nothing indecent. I’m certainly not going to make scandalous accusations in the press. I wouldn’t do that to Whit or myself. The point is really that I haven’t time to play these games after all. And it isn’t good for Whit either. All I said in the column was that … here, I’ll read it to you.” She put on a businesslike voice and went to her desk. He watched her, feeling hunger in his heart.