Danielle Steel: Passion's Promise

“After a fashion. I don’t think he’ll ever really forgive me for the scandal. It makes him feel like a failure, since in a sense he brought me up. But at least the papers have cooled it. And people forget. I’m already old news.” She shrugged and took another swallow of scotch. “Besides, people let me get away with a lot. If you have enough money they call you eccentric and think you’re amusing. If you don’t have the bucks they call you a perverted pig and an asshole. It’s disgusting, but it’s true. You’d be aghast at some of the things my friends get away with. Nothing as mundane as my ‘outrageous’ love affair with Luke.”

“Do you care if people get upset about Lucas?”

“Not really. It’s my business, not theirs. A lot has changed in the last few months. Mostly me. It’s just as well. Edward, for instance, had this illusion of me as a child.”

Alejandro wanted to say “So do I,” but he didn’t. She had that quality about her; it had something to do with her size and her seeming fragility.

They left after their third round of scotch, on equally empty stomachs, both high as kites.

“You know what’s funny?” She was laughing so hard she could barely stand up, but the cold air had sobered them both a little.

“What’s funny?”

“I don’t know … everything is….” She laughed again, and he wiped tears of cold and mirth from his eyes.

“Hey, you want a horse buggy ride?”

“Yes!” They piled aboard and Alejandro instructed the driver to take them to Kezia’s. It was a cozy carriage with an old raccoon lap robe. They snuggled under it and giggled all the way home, insulated by the raccoon and the scotch.

“Can I tell you a secret, Alejandro?”

“Sure. I love secrets.” He held her close so she wouldn’t fall out. That was as good an excuse as any.

“I’ve been drunk every night since I got back.”

He looked at her through his own haze of scotch and shook his head. “That’s dumb. I won’t let you do that to yourself.”

“You’re such a nice man. Alejandro, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They sat side by side and rode the rest of the way to her house in silence. He paid for the hansom cab and they rode up to her apartment, giggling in the elevator.

“You know, I think I’m too drunk to cook.”

“Just as well. I think I’m too drunk to eat.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Kezia, you should eat …”

“Later. Want to come to dinner tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here. With a lecture.” He tried to look grave but couldn’t master the expression and she laughed at him.

“Then I won’t let you in.”

“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow …” They both collapsed in the kitchen with mirth, and he tipsily kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ve got to go. But I’ll see you tomorrow. And make me a promise?”

“What?” All of a sudden he had looked so serious.

“No more drinking tonight, Kezia. Promise?”

“I … uh … yeah … okay.” But it was a promise she was not planning to keep.

She saw him to the elevator, and waved cheerily as the door closed, before coming back to the kitchen and bringing out the rest of last night’s fresh bottle of scotch. She was surprised that there was only an inch or so left.

It was odd, but as she poured what was left into a tumbler with one ice cube, the vision of Tiffany’s funeral flashed into mind. It was a dumb way to die, but the others all left such a big mess. At least drinking wasn’t messy … not really … not very … or was it? She didn’t really give a damn, as she smiled to herself and drained the full glass.

The phone was ringing but she didn’t bother to answer it. It couldn’t have been Luke. Even drunk she knew that much. Luke was away on a trip … in Tahiti … on a safari … and there were no phones there … but he’d be back at the end of the week. She was sure of it. Friday. And let’s see … what was today? Tuesday? Monday? Thursday! He’d be home tomorrow. She opened a fresh bottle. Bourbon this time. For Lucas. He’d be coming home soon.

Chapter 30

“Child, you look awfully thin.”

“Marina just called it ‘divinely svelte.’ She and Halpern just walked by.” The wedding had been held over the New Year’s holiday in Palm Beach.

Edward slid onto the banquette beside her. It was their first lunch in almost two months. And now she looked so different it shocked him.

Her eyes were sunken into her head, her skin looked taut on her cheekbones, and there was not even luster where once there had been fire. What a price she had paid. And for what? It still horrified him, but he had promised her not to discuss it. That was the condition on which she’d accepted his invitation to lunch. And he wanted so much to see her. Maybe there was still a chance to regain what they’d lost.

“Sorry I was late, Kezia.”

“Not to worry, love. I had a drink while I waited.” And that was new too. But at least she was still impeccably groomed. Even more so than usual, in fact. She looked almost formal. The mink coat she so seldom wore was thrown over the back of a chair.

“Why so dressed up today, my dear? Going somewhere after lunch?” Normally, she played it down, but not today, and the rare appearance of the mink coat surprised him.

“I’m turning over a new leaf. Coming home to roost, as they say.” Luke’s letter that morning had insisted that she at least try her old stamping grounds again. It was better than sitting home sulking—or drinking, a new habit he didn’t know about. But she had decided to try his advice. That was why she had accepted the luncheon with Edward, and dragged out the fur coat. But she felt like an ass. Or like Tiffany, trying to dress up disaster with breath mints and fur.

“What do you mean by ‘turning over a new leaf’?” He didn’t dare mention the Luke Johns affair, she might have walked out on the spot. And he was afraid of that. He signaled the waiter to order their usual Louis Roederer champagne. The waiter looked harassed but showed he understood, with a smile.

“Oh, let’s just say that I’m making an effort to be a nice girl, and see some of my old Mends.”

“Whitney?” Edward was a little taken aback.

“I said I was being nice, not ridiculous, darling. No, I just thought I’d ‘come back’ and take a look around.” The champagne arrived, the waiter poured, Edward tasted and nodded approval. The waiter poured again for both of them, and Edward lifted his glass in a toast.

“Then allow me to say welcome home.” He wanted to ask if she had learned her lesson, but he didn’t dare. Perhaps she had, though … perhaps she had. And in any case, her little misadventure had certainly aged her. She looked five years more than her age, particularly in a simple lilac wool dress and her grandmother’s remarkable pearls. And then he noticed the ring. He glanced at it and nodded approval. “Very pretty. Something new?”

“Yes. Luke got it for me in San Francisco.” Something pinched in his face again. Bitterness. Anger.

“I see.” There was no further comment, and Kezia finished her drink while Edward sipped his champagne.

“How is the writing these days?”

“It’ll do. I haven’t written anything I like in a while. And yes, Edward, I know. But looking at me like that won’t change a damn thing. I know all about it.” She was suddenly sick of the constant arch in his brows. “That’s right, darling, I’m not writing as well as I should. I’ve lost twelve pounds since you last saw me, I lock myself up at home because I’m terrified of reporters, and I look ten years older. I know all about it. We both know I’ve had a rough time. And we both know why, so stop looking so fucking shocked and disapproving. It’s really a dead bore.”