A Love for All Seasons (3 page)

“Not really,” Jack said. He wiped his right hand on a napkin and held it out. “Jack Devlin.”

“Derek Taylor.”

“Jack's a good friend of Pete and Rhonda,” Alicia explained as the two men shook hands. “He just moved to New York from Alabama.”

Derek grinned. “A little faster paced than what you're used to, huh?”

Alicia tried not to glare at him. Derek was one of her closest friends, but she didn't like the smugness in his tone that suggested Jack was some kind of country bumpkin. Birmingham was one of the largest cities in the Deep South, and only New York, L.A., and Chicago boasted of larger populations than Houston.

But Jack didn't seem to mind, nor did he elaborate on his background. “A little too fast for me, actually,” he admitted. “I work in midtown, but when it came time to find a place to live I decided to get a place up in Stamford.”

Derek nodded. “Nice town.” He then turned to someone walking past and began a conversation with them.

Alicia smiled at Jack, thankful for the drink in her hand and the calming effect of the alcohol. She had a nice warm feeling that started in her belly and branched out to the rest of her. “Have you met many people here?”

“Probably not by name, but everyone's very friendly.”

“Shame on Pete for leaving you on your own. Here, let me take you around.” She slipped her arm through his, telling herself he was just another friend of a friend, and that she had no need to feel nervous as she tried to make him comfortable. And thank heavens for the thick fabric of her sweater and for the blazer he wore. Her gesture seemed less personal with no skin-to-skin contact.

She led him to the nearest person, who stood at the buffet fixing a plate. “Jenny Walters, this is—” she stopped momentarily to make sure she said his name correctly “—Jack Devlin.” She stood by as Jack and Jenny greeted each other.

They moved on, and he said, “You know, you really don't have to do this. But I must admit I like having you on my arm.”

A wave of pleasure swept over her. Damn her memory for failing her. She felt certain that Jack Devlin was somehow linked to her past, but had absolutely no recollection of any other details. She'd never been to Birmingham, nor had she ever traveled to either of the other two Southern cities he mentioned as former residences. But from the way he affected her, she suspected that whatever happened between them had significance.

She raised her glass to her mouth and took another gulp. Funny, but since she'd started drinking this Kamikaze, the missing link between her and Jack didn't seem to matter as much. If Jack didn't remember her other than that one quick glimpse at the restaurant last spring, maybe she shouldn't worry about not remembering him.

“I want you to find New Yorkers friendly and outgoing,” she said warmly. “I can't have you calling home and reporting that we're just as callous as the press makes us out to be.”

Eventually they had covered the twenty or so people now in the apartment, including Pete, who spoke with another couple, and Rhonda, who they encountered in the kitchenette with another female guest, Alicia suspected indulging in gossip.

“I'm so sorry, Jack,” Rhonda said. “I guess Pete and I should have taken you through the room instead of leaving it up to Alicia.”

“Oh, that's all right,” she said graciously. “By now Dev and I are old friends.” She gasped, then looked at him in distress. “I did it again. Why do I keep calling you that?”

He shrugged. “Maybe it's because you already know someone named Jack that you don't like very much?”

What is this, Freud?
she thought, instantly dismissing his theory. But to scoff at his suggestion would be rude, so she merely said, “Maybe, although no one I can think of. Excuse me.”

At the bar Alicia poured herself another Kamikaze. She'd probably spent enough time in the company of Jack Devlin, who seemed to bring out the very worst in her. Instead she'd better relax and enjoy her other friends, some of whom she hadn't seen in many weeks. Her mother's heart disease had worsened in recent months to the point where she was now largely bedridden. Alicia had been spending evenings with her in Connecticut, commuting by train into the city. Now that her mother had stabilized, Alicia felt it safe enough to spend one evening in her apartment. Tomorrow she would grab a train north and spend the remainder of the weekend at her mother's bedside.

The appearance of Jack Devlin—the stranger who somehow didn't seem like a stranger—unnerved her to the point where she couldn't really relax. Maybe if she knew where she'd met him or what suppressed memories she had of him, she could better cope with the situation. But nothing came to her, which she found terribly frustrating, in spite of her attempts not to be concerned about it.

She sipped on her drink. Funny, she'd never been much of a drinker, but tonight she drank like the answer to her questions could be found at the bottom of a bottle of triple sec.

She knew the reason for her atypical behavior stood just a few feet away, talking with her other guests.

I Don't Want To Spoil the Party

B
y
ten o'clock, when the guests started leaving, Alicia sensed she had put away one Kamikaze too many, courtesy of an odd weightless feeling she knew hadn't come from anything on the buffet table.

“Alicia, dear, it was a lovely party,” Rhonda said. “But then again, you always entertain so effortlessly. I don't know how you do it. I'll bet you put in a full day at work today.”

“I left at three.”

Rhonda turned to Jack. “Can you believe that? She worked practically the whole day and still manages to put on a great party. She ought to write a how-to book. Whenever Pete and I have people over I'm always still in the kitchen when the guests arrive, even if I've had all day to prepare.”

“Nuttin' to it.”

Rhonda looked at her strangely. “Alicia, are you all right? You sound a little tipsy.”

“Ahm awright.” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, and what the hell happened to her enunciation?

“Whoa!” Pete said. “Since when do you get a buzz on?”

Even through the alcohol-induced fuzziness, Alicia felt Jack's intense gaze. She made a special effort to form her words distinctly. “I'm fine. Really.”

“Pete, why don't you and I stick around and help Alicia put the food away?” Rhonda suggested.

Jack turned to look at the buffet, where only a few stray hors d'oeuvres remained. “I don't think it'll take more than a minute or two to put what's left in the fridge. A walk would probably do her the most good.”

“Yeah, a nice li'l walk. Iz awfully hot in here.” Alicia stuck an index finger inside the top of her sweater and fanned it away from her collarbone.

Rhonda yawned loudly. “Excuse me. I guess we can manage to walk around the block.”

“If that yawn is any indication, Rhonda, I think you need to get home,” Jack said. “You're both exhausted. I'll make sure Alicia gets some air and gets back home safely.”

“Jack, you've got to be just as tired as we are,” Pete pointed out. “Didn't you drive in from Stamford?”

“No, when you said it would be an early night I decided to take the train in, so I don't have to drive home.”

“Well, I do feel a responsibility for Alicia,” Rhonda said. “She's a good friend to us, but you just met her tonight, Jack.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll enjoy taking a walk before going to the train station.”

“She'll be safe with Jack, Rhonda,” Pete said.

Rhonda nodded. “All right. Just give me a minute to clean up a little.” She stood on tiptoe and pulled a small container off the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet. “I don't want to leave her with even a little mess. I've got a feeling she's not going to feel so good in the morning.”

“I'll help you,” Pete said. “But Jack, I see no reason to hold you up. The sooner you get her outside, the better. We'll lock the door behind us when we leave. We can't latch it without a key, but it should be all right for the short time you two will be out walking.”

“Sounds good,” Jack said. He turned to Alicia. “Get your jacket. We're going to clear your head. And don't forget your keys.”

In the end it took Alicia more than a few minutes to locate her keys, and Pete and Rhonda had finished straightening up and were ready to leave at the same time. “I'm worried,” Rhonda said as they slowly descended the stairs, Jack holding one of Alicia's arms and Pete the other. “I've never seen her like this before.”

“She never drinks,” Pete added. “I tease her about it all the time. I don't understand why she overdid it tonight.”

“Will you two stop talkin' 'bout me like I'm invithible?” Alicia said with a scowl.

“It's just that we're worried about you, dear,” Rhonda said, placing a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder. “We want Jack to understand how out of character this is for you.”

Alicia closed her eyes.
Jack
, she thought,
is the problem
. Fortunately for her, she had enough control over her faculties not to express that thought aloud.

The entrance to the subway was just a half block from Alicia's front door. They bid goodnight to Pete and Rhonda, with Rhonda extracting a promise from Alicia to call her in the morning. After the Robinsons disappeared into the hole in the ground, Jack gallantly offered Alicia his arm, and by unspoken agreement they headed down Broadway. At this hour the avenue still had heavy southbound traffic. Neon lights of bars shone brightly in the night, and every available parking space was filled by a vehicle.

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, Alicia's trench coat billowing in the breeze, before Jack remarked, “The city is nicer at this time of year than it is in the summer, isn't it?”

She laughed. “Oh, iz nice in the summer, too, but it can get awfully hot. Few things are more insuff…insuffra…worse than an un-air conditioned subway train in August.”

Her demeanor had improved, he noted, even if her diction hadn't. Good. That meant the fresh air helped. “I'll bet. Have you known Pete and Rhonda long?”

She breathed deeply. The crisp fall air was as fresh as air could be in New York. She felt significantly better now than she had upstairs in her apartment, cooler and less light-headed. “Rhonda and I useta work down the hall from each other. We kep' bumpin' into each other in the ladies' room, and both of us liked to walk at lunchtime. We went from casual acquain…acquaintances to real friends. That was, oh, I don't know how many years ago, but it's been awhile.”

“Were you at their wedding?”

“I'd planned to be there, but my mother had to be hospitalized, so I wasn't able to make it. I could have managed if they'd gotten married locally, but they got married in Ssssss…somewhere in the Caribbean,” she concluded after giving up on trying to remember the name of the island.

“Saint Croix.” That explained why he didn't see her at Pete's wedding. But he'd seen her now, and he would do all he could to ensure he'd see her again. “I was Pete's best man.”

“Fortunately, I wasn't Rhonda's maid of honor. I'm afraid my having to cancel at the last minute might have caused them real problems.”

“Oh, I don't know. They only had me and Rhonda's sister as attendants. I remember Pete saying they didn't want to saddle their closest friends with the expense of wedding attire after they paid for their trip. We didn't even rehearse. Pete and I wore our own clothes, navy blazers and white slacks; and even Rhonda's cousin wore an ordinary dress to be maid of honor.”

“An ordinary dress?”

“You know, not one of those bridesmaid dresses.”

She chuckled. “I guess even a man can recoc…knows a bridesmaid dress when he sees one.”

“The puffy sleeves usually give it away.” He laughed, then turned serious. “I'm sorry to hear your mother was ill,” he said. “Did she recover?”

“She rebounded, but her health hasn't been good for a long time. It's taken a turn for the worse since the spring.” She sounded sad, and he could readily understand. She brightened a little with her next words. “That's why I had this little get-together tonight, because I've been spending most of my time with her. I haven't seen any of my friends in weeks, aside from the one I work with every day. And she's not here tonight.”

Jack nodded.

“I know it's become cliché to say one's mother is a saint. I get this mental picture of Richard Nixon, looking all pinched and righteous, resigning the prez-i-denzy,” she said with a giggle.

His eyes widened with curiosity. “You actually remember when that happened? That was over thirty years ago.”

“No, of course not. I'm only thirty-four. I saw the news ar…archives in history class. But I can truly say that my mother is a completely kind person.” She shrugged. “Of course, I've only been around maybe half her life, but I've never known her to say a mean thing to or about anyone.”

“Is it just the two of you?” He welcomed this opportunity to learn more about the woman who'd so captivated him.

“My father died two years ago. My folks were older than the parents of most of my friends. Late bloomers, they used to say.”

“Are you an only child?”

“Nah, I've got a sister.”

He looked at her sharply. Alicia spoke of her sister with a dismissive air very different from the loving way she described her mother.

“So whawazit that brought you to New York from Alabama, Dev?” she asked, then stopped and drew in her breath. “Doggone it, I did it again. It just keeps slippin' out.”

“It's all right for you to call me that,” he said easily. He liked the thought of Alicia having her own name for him that was hers alone. He'd noticed that Derek Taylor kissed her on the mouth when he left the party, and he didn't like it. It made him wonder about the nature of their relationship.

“I doan know why I keep doin' that,” Alicia said, sounding frustrated.

“Alicia. Don't worry about it.”

“What'd you call me?”

“Alicia. Isn't that your name?”

“You say it differently.” He pronounced it A-
lee
-see-a, which sounded more melodic than the usual A-
lee
-sha. “Alicia,” she said, saying it the way he had. “Thas pretty. I like it.”

“A pretty name for a pretty woman. And in answer to your question,” he said, feeling he'd made his point and not wanting to fluster her in her slightly intoxicated state, “I took a job here.” He named the pharmaceutical firm that employed him, a name Alicia instantly recognized. “I'm Director of their Creative Network division.”

“Ah, good for you. I guess they paid all your relocation expenses.”

“They reimbursed me, yes.”

“What do you think of our fair city?”

“I think it's an exciting place, but not for the faint of heart. I'm glad I live in Stamford.”

They shared a laugh. Jack glanced at the street sign and saw they were approaching Seventy-Ninth Street. They'd walked nearly seven blocks. “How far did you want to walk? Remember, we have to turn around and walk back. But if you're tired I guess we can always flag down a cab.”

“Oh, I'm fine. This walk is doin' me good. Lez go another couple o' blocks. Unless, of course, you didden wanna get home too late.”

“Not a problem. I'm not driving, so all I have to do is cab it to Grand Central and I'm good to go.”

They walked down to Seventy-Second Street before turning around to head back to Alicia's apartment. Their conversation flowed just as easily as the traffic headed down Broadway.

“I'd like to see you to your door,” he said when they approached the dismal-looking five-story building of dark brown brick.

She smiled knowingly. “Oh, thas not necess…sary.”

Her knowing smile both embarrassed and annoyed him. “I'm sure you've heard that line before, but this is on the level, Alicia. I'm concerned for your safety.”

“Once I get in the building I'll be fine. Besides, for all I know you're an ax murderer.”

“It would be pretty hard to conceal an ax,” he said, looking over his crew neck sweater, sports coat, and slacks.

“Oh, I don't know,” she said doubtfully. She stopped suddenly, placing her hands on her hips. “Iz that an ax in your pocket, or are you jus' happy to see me?” she said in an imitation of Mae West. Then she broke off into a fit of giggles.

Jack managed an uncomfortable smile, resisting the urge to look down. He assumed that his navy slacks gave him a certain amount of discretion. Had she actually noticed….?

He decided to make light of it. “You're a fun person, Alicia. I'd like to see you again, if you haven't noticed.”

She hesitated long enough to make him nervous. Had he misread the vibes? She seemed to be as drawn to him as he was to her. How could he be so wrong?

“Call me,” she finally said.

He tried not to show his relief. Then again, the excessive liquor she'd consumed could have made her a little slow on the draw.

“I don't have your number.”

She recited it.

“I don't have a pen,” he said.

She smiled slyly. “Then you'll have to remember it, won't you?”

Jack knew then that her slow response to his suggestion that they see each other again hadn't come from liquor. Alicia's words might be slurred, but her mind remained sharp as a Ginsu knife. Something else had made her hesitate. He wished he knew the reason.

“Are you sure you'll be able to make it up all those stairs?” he asked, genuinely concerned. She had to climb three flights of stairs to her fourth-floor apartment in the building, which had no elevator.