Danielle Steel - Passion's Promise

“I saw your last article in Harper’s. Nice piece. And I heard from Simpson the other day that you’ve got something coming out in a few weeks in the Sunday Times. ”

“I do? Which one?”

“Something about a drug rehabilitation center in Harlem. I didn’t know you’d done that.”

“That was just before I left town. Save it for me when it comes out.” But suddenly there was an unspoken awkwardness between them. They both felt it.

“Kezia, are you all right?”

And now it was back to that again. “Yes, Edward, I’m fine. Honest. We’ll have lunch next week when I get back, and you can see for yourself. I’ll even meet you at La Côte Basque.”

“Dear lady, how kind you are.”

She laughed at him and they hung up after a few moments of business: they had some new tax shelters to discuss.

“Luke looked up from his reading with a quizzical eye. “Who was that?” He knew it had to be Edward or Simpson.

“Edward.”

“You can tell him you’ll have lunch with him sooner. If you want.”

“Are you sending me back?” They had been gone for ten days.

“No, you jerk.” He grinned at the look on her face. “I just thought we’d go back tomorrow. You’ve got your work to consider, and I have to commute to D.C. for the rest of the week. There’s a series of closed meetings for the moratorium that I want to attend, and I can catch another speaking engagement or two down there. Washington seems to love me.” The checks had been coming in with pleasing regularity. “I just thought we’d settle down in New York for a couple of weeks.”

She laughed at him, relieved. “Are you sure you can stand staying anyplace for that long?”

“I’ll sure try.” He slapped her behind as he walked to the bar and poured himself a bourbon and water.

“Luke?” She was lying on the bed, looking pensive.

“Yeah?”

“What am I going to do about the column?”

“That’s up to you, babe. You’ve got to make up your own mind on that. Do you dig writing it?”

“Once in a while. But not lately. Not for a long time, in fact.”

“Then maybe it’s time to quit, for your own sake. But don’t give it up for me. Do what you want. And if you’ve got to stick around New York covering fancy parties, then you do that. You’ve got to take care of your business too. Don’t forget that.”

“I’ll see how I feel about it after next week. Ill do my usual thing when we go back to New York. Then I’ll see how it feels.” With Luke commuting to Washington, she’d have plenty of time to hit her old circuit.

After four days in New York, she had been to the opening of a play, the closing of a theater, two lunches for ambassadors’ wives, and a charity fashion show. Her feet hurt, her mind ached, and her ears were numbed by the constant flow of idle gossip. Who gave a damn? Kezia didn’t. Not anymore.

“Lucas, if I ever hear the word ‘divine’ again, I think I’m going to throw up.”

“You look tired.” She looked more than tired. She looked drained, and she felt it.

“I am tired, and I hate all that fucking shit.” She had even made it to a meeting of the Arthritis Ball that day. Tiffany had passed out in the John. And she couldn’t even use it for the column. The only good piece of information she’d picked up was that Marina and Halpern were getting married. But so what? Who cared?

“What are we doing this weekend?” If he told her that they were going to Chicago, she would have a fit of hysterics. She didn’t want to go anywhere, except bed.

“Nothing. Maybe I’ll go up and see Al. Want to have him for dinner?” He was sitting on the edge of the bed and looked as tired as she.

“That, I would love. I’ll cook something here.” He smiled at the domestic exchange and she picked up on what he was thinking. “It’s neat, isn’t it, Luke? Sometimes I wonder if you love it all as much as I do. I’ve never lived like this before.”

He grinned at her, knowing how true that was.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. And I probably love it even more than you do. I’m beginning to wonder how I survived without you before this.” He slipped into bed beside her, and she turned off the light. He had his own keys to the apartment, and used the answering service as his, she had cleaned out a closet for him, and the maid had finally even smiled at him. Once. She called him “Mister Luke.”

“You know something, darling? We’re lucky. Incredibly lucky.” She was pleased with herself, as though she had caught a falling star in her hands.

“Yes, baby, we are.” Even if only for now….

“Well, gentlemen, I propose a toast to the demise of Martin Hallam.”

“Lucas, what does she mean?” Alejandro looked puzzled and Luke looked at her curiously. This was the first he had heard of it.

“Kezia, does this mean what I think?”

“Yes, sir. It does. After seven years of writing the Martin Hallam column, I quit. I did it today.”

Luke looked at her, shocked. “What did they say?”

“They don’t know yet. I told Simpson today, and he’s going to handle the rest. They’ll know tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” It wasn’t too late to reverse the decision.

“I have never been so sure in my life. I don’t have the time for that garbage anymore. Or the inclination to waste my time doing it” She saw a strange look pass between Luke and Alejandro, and wondered why no one seemed impressed. “Well, you two are certainly a lousy audience for my big announcement. Phooey on both of you.”

Alejandro smiled and Luke laughed.

“I guess we’re just kind of shocked, babe. And I suddenly wondered if you’re doing it because of me.”

“Not really, darling. It’s my decision. I don’t want to have to go to those shitty parties for the rest of my life. You saw how tired I was this week. And for what? It’s just not my thing anymore.”

“Have you told Edward?” He looked worried, and Alejandro was looking daggers at him.

“No. I’ll call him tomorrow. You’re the first two to know after Simpson. And you’re a couple of creeps.”

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s just sort of a shock.” He lifted his glass to her then, a nervous smile on his face. ‘To Martin Hallam then.” Alejandro raised his glass in response, but his eyes never left Lucas’ face.

“To Martin Hallam. Rest in peace.”

“Amen.” Kezia drained her glass in one gulp.

“No, Edward. I’m sure. And Simpson agrees. It’s a diversion I don’t really have time for anymore. I want to stick with serious writing.”

“But it’s such a drastic step, Kezia. You’re used to the column. Everyone’s used to it. It’s become an institution. Have you given this decision adequate thought?”

“Of course I have. For months. And the fact is, darling, that I don’t want to be an ‘institution.’ Not that kind of institution. I want to be a writer, a good one, not a gossip monger amongst fools. Really, darling, you’ll see. It’s the best possible decision.”

“Kezia, you’re making me nervous.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why?” She swung her foot as she sat at her desk. She had called him right after Luke left the house for a morning of meetings. At least Luke had come around, after the first shock. And Simpson had applauded the decision, and said it was high time.

“I wish I knew why you make me nervous. I think it’s because I get the feeling I don’t know what you’re up to, not that it’s really any of my business.” But he wanted it to be. That was the rub.

“Edward, you’re going to make yourself senile worrying about nothing.” He was beginning to annoy her. Constantly.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” It was almost an accusation.