A Perfect Life: A Novel (29 page)

“You’re so quiet, Mom,” Salima said on Sunday morning when she walked into the kitchen, and Blaise was sitting there, staring into space.

“I was just thinking.”

“What about?” She thought her mother sounded in better spirits lately, and that she had had a hard time at first when Simon left, but recently she seemed more like herself.

“I don’t know … I was thinking about work … the show I did in Morocco, nothing special,” she lied to her. She had to make the decision by the next day. Salima was sure she was thinking about Simon but didn’t want to ask. Salima had already had two text messages from him that morning. He had remained faithful in their correspondence for the past two months. But he never mentioned Blaise. He wanted to keep his relationship with Salima pure and untainted. He wondered about her and missed her but didn’t want to use Salima for information or to pass messages to Blaise. If he’d had something to say to her, he would have said it himself.

Blaise went back to her room after breakfast and spent the day in her office at home doing work, while Salima and Becky went out. And by the end of the day, when they met for dinner, Blaise looked exhausted. She was torturing herself about the decision and hadn’t made it yet. And as she lay in bed and looked at the moon that night, she was still undecided, torn either way. And she lay there thinking about when Simon had been in that bed with her, and the wonderful time they’d shared.

She felt peaceful when she fell asleep that night, hoping she’d wake up in the morning, knowing what to do.

And then for no reason, she woke in the middle of the night. The moon was still shining brightly, and she had two more hours to sleep before the alarm went off. And as though someone had spoken the words clearly, she heard a voice in her head. “It’s a gift.” The voice said it so loudly she almost heard it in the room as well. It’s a gift, she said to herself, as she went back to sleep, remembering Simon in her bed. The decision had been made.

Blaise had the CVS test the doctor had recommended, the following week, and she went to have the test alone. It was invasive, and there was some risk of miscarriage, but it would give them the information that the baby was genetically healthy, and if she wanted to know the sex of the baby, they could tell her that too. She told them she wanted to know, and she had three or four weeks to wait until the result. And she was nervous about it. Now that she had decided to go forward with it, she hoped everything would be all right. The baby was due on the first of October, and she had decided to tell Salima when it showed, which it didn’t yet. She was very slim and in good shape, and she was only three months pregnant. And she wanted to keep it from the network for as long as possible. She suspected they wouldn’t be thrilled, but she was going to take very little maternity leave, just as she had done with Salima. She didn’t want to take a lot of time. There were too many projects to finish, and someone else would be taking her place if she did.

And she was still adjusting to the idea of having a baby. She was somewhat in shock. She covered a story in South Africa the week
after she had the CVS test, and from there she went to London and attended a royal wedding as a guest. She was back in New York ten days after she left, with lots of stories to tell Becky and Salima. She was continuing her busy life, unhampered by the pregnancy.

“You lead such a glamorous life,” Becky said, still in awe of her.

“No, she doesn’t,” Salima interjected. “She still hangs out with us.” And to prove it, they went bowling that night, and they all had fun. Salima said she deserved a handicap, and Blaise said she would probably play just as badly if she wasn’t blind.

“Yeah, just like you can’t cook,” she teased her mother. “And neither can Becky!”

“Yes, I can. I finally got the soufflé right last week.” It had become an obsession with her. Her trial by fire. A rite of initiation, and she had passed.

“Yeah, with Simon walking us through it. That’s like painting by number,” Salima said, teasing her, but she’d been impressed. And the soufflé was good.

“Well, it worked, and I did it,” Becky said victoriously. Blaise was getting to like her more and more, and so was Salima. And Blaise tried to ignore the fact that her heart gave a little flutter when Salima mentioned Simon. She knew he was still very much in touch with Salima, although he had vanished completely out of her life, except for the baby in her womb. She was going to tell Salima that Simon was the baby’s father, but no one else. And Simon, of course, when it was born. But she wanted to keep any press interest in her pregnancy as minimal as possible. And she was hoping to keep it from the network till May or June. Her doctor said she could travel
till August, and sitting at a desk during her morning segment, the viewers wouldn’t have to know until she gave birth.

Blaise had plenty to keep her busy. Salima was preparing ardently for her recital on the Memorial Day weekend in May, now that the audition for Juilliard was over. Lucianna had taken her to her audition when Blaise was in London. Salima was hoping for a response by May or June. She was desperate to get into the school, located at Lincoln Center, with three students to every teacher, small classes, fabulous instructors, and dedication to handicapped students.

And Blaise had sweeps week to think of in May for the ratings, which had the whole network in an uproar twice a year. They were planning to show her interview with the king of Morocco during that time, because the producers of her show thought it was so good.

She was going over a stack of research for her new projects toward the end of April when her doctor called, and Mark put the call through to Blaise.

“Blaise McCarthy,” she said in a clipped voice, sounding distracted.

“Hi, Blaise.” It was her doctor, which brought Blaise rapidly back to earth. “I have your CVS results. Everything is perfect.” She said it quickly, to allay any worry, and Blaise heaved a sigh of relief. She hadn’t realized how anxious about it she was.

“That’s great. Thank you.”

“Do you still want to know the baby’s sex?” She checked before she told her.

“I’d like that very much,” she said with tears in her eyes. It was an important moment. Her baby was healthy. The rest was icing on the cake.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor said, smiling. She loved delivering that kind of news. A healthy baby and a happy mom. Blaise had had no preference about sex. She just liked the idea of knowing, but hearing that it was a boy suddenly made it all the more real now. She was going to have a son. She hoped he’d look just like Simon, and as she thought it, the tears rolled down her cheeks. She hadn’t seen him come in, but Mark had walked into her office when she hung up, and he looked shocked to see her crying.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” He knew the doctor had called, and hoped nothing serious was going on.

“I’m fine.” He handed her research on a British politician involved in an international money-laundering scandal, and she gave him back some of the earlier research with her notes on it, and then he stopped and turned around on the way out of the room.

“I almost forgot to tell you. You get all the plum jobs around here. They’re sending you to the Cannes Film Festival to do a special. It’s the third week in May, followed by the Monaco Grand Prix the week after. You can stay over for the Memorial Day weekend at the end of it if you want. I’ll book you a reservation at Hotel du Cap.” And as he said it, instead of pleased, she looked horrified and almost cried again.

“Oh my God … I can’t stay over.… Salima’s recital is that Friday night, the last day of the Grand Prix race. She’s been preparing for it for six months. I can’t miss it, no matter what. I do it to her every time.” She had missed her high school graduation, interviewing
the president of South Korea. She couldn’t do it to her again. “Mark, I have to be back in New York on Friday afternoon.”

“I’ll book the reservation, but you’ll have to work it out, and leave the morning of the last day of the race, or wrap things up the day before.” Mark looked sympathetic. He knew how much the recital meant to Salima. Blaise had been telling him all about it for months.

“I have to. Salima would never forgive me, and I don’t want to let her down.” She was going to fix this right away and e-mailed Charlie about it immediately, to warn him of when she’d have to leave the Grand Prix. Whatever she did, no matter how important they thought it was, this time she couldn’t fail Salima.

Once Blaise knew the baby was a boy and that it was healthy, she found herself thinking about Simon more and more often. She questioned if it had been a mistake to find out what the sex was. Now she kept wondering if he would look like Simon, and what Simon would say when she told him. She still had no intention of telling him during the pregnancy. She wasn’t going to intrude on his life. And she was only four months pregnant. It was still a long way off. But he seemed to be constantly on her mind.

When the ratings came out in May, Blaise’s were stronger than they’d ever been. Zack came down to her office to congratulate her personally. And Charlie gave her a bottle of champagne, which she took home to Becky and Salima that night. They opened it, and Blaise poured a glass for the two girls. They toasted her with it, and she clinked a glass with a tiny sip in it. Somehow Salima could tell
and asked her mother why she wasn’t drinking more. Blaise was always amazed by everything she noticed. Her hearing was so acute, she could tell it wasn’t a full glass.

“Somebody has to stay sober around here.” Blaise laughed and changed the subject. But she was very happy about her ratings too. It would relieve some of the pressure on her, for now at least.

And two weeks later, she left to cover the Cannes Film Festival and then the Monaco Grand Prix. She stayed at the Hotel du Cap Eden-Roc during the Film Festival, and then moved to the Hermitage in Monte Carlo for the Grand Prix. Both hotels were superb. There wasn’t a luxury hotel around the world that Blaise hadn’t been in, a resort or spa where she hadn’t stayed while doing an interview or a special. And there were a number of celebrities staying at both hotels. She enjoyed the Film Festival, and the car race using the streets of Monaco was always exciting. She was invited to parties on yachts and in fabulous villas, and one at the palace hosted by the prince and princess. And on that particular assignment, she had to admit that her life was as glamorous as people said. She was constantly surrounded by movie stars and royalty, and she told Salima about it when she called her every day. Salima was diligently preparing for her recital, and pressed Blaise again to make sure she’d be there.

“I’m flying back that morning,” Blaise reminded her again. “I’m taking the early flight and with the time difference, I’ll be here by noon. I’ll be back in plenty of time for the recital. I can even help you dress.” They had picked out a long white silk dress that looked beautiful on Salima, and it had been hanging in her closet for the
last month. And she and Lucianna had designed the program and what Salima would be singing. They had chosen all the pieces that best showed off her voice. And she had texted Simon that she wished he could be there too. They had graduation at Caldwell that weekend, and he had to attend. But he couldn’t have gone to the recital because of her mother anyway. After four months of silence between them, he felt awkward about seeing her. He thought about Blaise frequently, and when he asked about her, Salima said that her mother was okay, and he hoped that that was true.

Blaise called Salima from the South of France every day, and reported on the stars she’d seen and the events she’d been to, but by the end of her trip, Salima could only focus on her recital. By the time Blaise was ready to come home, Salima was in a panic over it.

“You have to calm down. It’s going to be fine,” her mother told her.

“No, it’s not, I’ll be awful. And you better not miss your plane. You won’t, Mom, right? They won’t make you stay longer, or send you somewhere else?” It had happened so often before that Salima was afraid she wouldn’t make it this time, and Blaise was terrified of that too. She was so nervous about it that she got up two hours earlier than she needed to, to get to the airport in time to make her plane. And she was leaving her crew at the Hermitage in Monte Carlo to fly home later that day. Blaise was going home early for Salima, and had warned the network that she would.

Blaise checked out of the hotel in plenty of time, and a limousine drove her to the Nice airport. She was catching a direct flight that only ran twice a day from Nice to New York on Air France. And
she handed her ticket and passport to an Air France agent at the first-class counter when she arrived. She knew that everything was in order, and she was half an hour early, which was rare for her. Her plans had gone with the precision of a Swiss clock so far that day.

“I’m sorry,” the ticket agent looked at her with regret. “Your flight has been canceled. We had a mechanical problem, and the plane didn’t get here from New York.”

“No,” Blaise said, panicking. “That’s not possible. I have to get to New York.” This couldn’t be happening to her. She wouldn’t let it.

“I understand,” the agent said pleasantly. “We’ll have another plane here in three hours. Your flight to New York will leave at noon.” Blaise made a rapid calculation, and with the time difference, getting through customs and leaving the airport, she could be at the apartment by two o’clock, three at the latest. It was later than she’d promised Salima, but the recital wasn’t until seven o’clock, and Salima didn’t have to leave the house until six. Tully was driving them. And a hairdresser was coming to do Salima’s hair at three.

“All right, that’ll work,” Blaise said, determined not to get excited about it. Even with the delay, she would be there for Salima. Charlie had been very nice about her not being there for the last day of the race. Her crew was covering it for her. Blaise had been at everything else all week, and she had told Charlie she had enough film to give them more than they needed. She went to the first-class lounge then to wait for the flight that was leaving at noon.