Danielle Steel - Full circle

“I promise.” She smiled and the two women hugged each other goodnight again. Tana was touched by her mother's concern, but she knew for certain that she was wrong about Drew. She went to sleep with a smile on her face, thinking of him and his little girls. She wondered what he was doing with them. She had the name of his hotel in Washington, but she didn't want to intrude on them.

The Thanksgiving dinner at the Durning home the next day was predictably dull for everyone, but Jean was grateful that Tana was there. Arthur was somewhat vague, and fell asleep twice in his chair, the maid gave him a gentle nudge, and eventually Jean helped him upstairs. Ann arrived with her three brats, who were even worse than they had been several years before. She was talking about marrying a Greek shipping magnate and Tana tried not to listen to her, but it was impossible. The only blessing of the day was that Billy had gone to Florida with friends instead of being there.

And by five o'clock Tana was checking her watch regularly. She had promised Drew she would be at the Carlyle by nine, and they hadn't called each other all day. She was suddenly dying to see him again, to look into his eyes, touch his face, feel his hands, peel away his clothes as she dropped her own. She wore a veiled smile as she went upstairs to pack her bags, and her mother came into the room as she did. Their eyes met in the large mirror over the chest of drawers, and Jean spoke to her first.

“You're going to meet him, aren't you?”

She could have lied to her, but she was thirty years old, what was the point? “Yes.” She turned to face her mother across the room. “I am.”

“You frighten me.”

“You worry about things too much. This isn't a replay of your life, Mother, it's mine. There is a difference.”

“Not always as much as we'd like to think, I'm afraid.”

“You're wrong this time.”

“I hope for your sake that I am.” But she looked grief stricken when Tana finally called a cab, and rode into New York at eight o'clock. She couldn't get her mother's words out of her mind, and by the time she arrived at the hotel, she was angry with her. Why did she burden her with her own bad experiences, her disappointments, her pain? What right did she have to do that? It was like a blanket of cement one had to wear everywhere to prove that one had been loved, well, she didn't want to be loved that much. She didn't need it anymore. She wanted to be left alone to lead her own life now.

The Carlyle was a beautiful hotel, with thickly carpeted steps down to the lobby's marble floor, Persian rugs, antique clocks, handsome paintings on the walls, and gentlemen at the desk in morning coats. It was all from another world, and Tana smiled to herself. This was not her mother's life, it was her own. She was sure of that now. She gave Drew's name, and went upstairs to the room. He had not yet arrived, but they obviously knew him well. The room was as sumptuous as the lobby had promised it would be, with a sweeping view of Central Park, the skyline shimmering like jewels, more antiques, this time upholstered in a deep rose silk, heavy satin drapes, and a magnum of champagne waiting in a bucket of ice, a gift from the management. “Enjoy your stay” were the bellboy's final words, and Tana sat down on the handsome couch, wondering if she should run a bath for herself, or wait. She still wasn't sure if he was bringing the girls, but she thought he was. She didn't want to shock them by being undressed when they came. But an hour later, they had not yet arrived, and it was after ten o'clock when he finally called.

“Tana?”

“No, Sophia Loren.”

He laughed. “I'm disappointed. I like Tana Roberts better than her.”

“Now I know you're crazy, Drew.”

“I am. About you.”

“Where are you?”

There was the briefest pause. “In Washington. Julie has an awful cold, and we thought that Elizabeth might be coming down with the flu. I thought maybe I ought to wait here, and I might not bring them up at all. I'll come up tomorrow, Tan. Is that all right?”

“Sure.” She understood, but she had also noticed the “we” that had snuck in. “We thought that Elizabeth.…” And she wasn't too crazy about that. “The room is fabulous.”

“Aren't they wonderful? Were they nice to you?”

“They sure were.” She looked around the room, “but it's no fun without you, Mr. Lands. Keep that in mind.”

“I'll be there tomorrow. I swear.”

“What time?”

He thought for a minute. “I'll have breakfast with the girls … see how they feel … that should make it ten o'clock. I could catch a noon plane … I'll be at the hotel by two without fail.” That meant half the day was shot, and she wanted to say something about that, but thought wiser of it.

“All right.” But she didn't sound pleased, and when she hung up the phone she had to push her mother's words out of her head again. She took a hot bath, watched television, ordered a cup of hot chocolate from room service, and wondered what he was doing in Washington, and then suddenly she felt guilty for what she hadn't said to him. It wasn't his fault the kids were sick. It was certainly a nuisance for them, but it was no one's fault. She picked up the phone and asked for the hotel where he was staying in Washington, but he wasn't there. She left a message that she had called, watched the late show, and fell asleep with the television still on. She woke up at nine o'clock the next day, and went out to discover that it was an absolutely gorgeous day. She went for a long walk down Fifth Avenue, and over to Bloomingdale's where she puttered for a while and bought a few things for herself, a handsome blue cashmere sweater for him, and gifts for the girls, a doll for Julie and a pretty blouse for Elizabeth, and then she went back to the Car-lyle to wait for him, but there was a message this time. Both the girls were deathly ill, “will arrive Friday night,” which he did not. Julie had a fever of one hundred and five, and Tana spent another night at the Carlyle alone. On Saturday she went to the Metropolitan, and on Saturday afternoon at five o'clock, he arrived finally, in time to make love to her, order room service, apologize to her all night, and take the plane back to San Francisco with her the next day. It had been a great weekend for them in New York.

“Remind me to do that again with you sometime,” she said half sarcastically as they finished dinner on the plane.

“Are you furious with me, Tan?” He had looked miserable ever since he'd arrived in New York, consumed with guilt toward her, worried about the girls, he talked too much, too fast, and he wasn't himself for days.

“No, I'm disappointed more than furious. How was your ex-wife by the way?”

“Fine.” He didn't seem anxious to talk about her and was surprised Tana had asked. It didn't seem an appropriate subject for them, but she was haunted by her mother's words. “What made you ask that?”

“Just curious.” She took a mouthful of the dessert on the tray, looking strangely cool as she glanced at him. “Are you still in love with her?”

“Of course not. That's ridiculous. I haven't been in love with her for years.” He looked downright annoyed and Tana was pleased. Her mother was wrong. As usual. “You may not be aware of it, Tan,” he hesitated, looking pale, “but I happen to be in love with you.” He looked at her for a long time, and she watched his face searchingly. And then at least she smiled, but she said nothing at all. She kissed his lips, put down her fork, and eventually closed her eyes for a nap. There was nothing she wanted to say to him, and he was so oddly uncomfortable. It had been a difficult weekend for both of them.