Always and Forever (13 page)

A
T PHIL’S INSISTENCE KATHY
arranged to go into New York the following Saturday to shop with her mother for the breakfast room furniture.

“I’ll phone when I get into Grand Central,” she told Phil while they waited for the train at the Greenwich station. “If you’re having any problems, I’ll just turn around and come back.” He’d never taken care of Jesse on his own before today. At the moment, Jesse slept contentedly in the car-bed.

“Honey, relax. Jesse and I will have a high old time. If I have any problems, I’ll buzz my mother,” He reflected on this a moment. “Or I’ll ask Clara to drive over and give us a hand.” Clara had come to the Kohn family as a teenager and worked her way up from maid to housekeeper in thirty-one years, the one member of the domestic staff who remained in place. “Clara changed a lot of diapers for me and gave me a lot of bottles,” he said whimsically. “Even then, Mother was all involved with charities and garden clubs.”

“Here’s the train—” Kathy felt a disconcerting wrench at the prospect of putting so many miles between Jesse and herself even for the afternoon.

“Try to find something that’s available for fast delivery,” Phil encouraged. “Maybe a floor sample if it’s in good shape.”

“I will,” she promised, reaching for the car door. “Don’t forget to burp Jesse after his bottle.”

Kathy was shocked when Phil announced—the night he arrived home to find the charming country maple table and four captain’s chairs sitting in their spacious breakfast room—that he was inviting his mother and father over for brunch the following Saturday.

“It’ll be no extra work for you,” he soothed. “I’ll bring up a slab of nova and a bagful of bagels from the city Friday night. There’s nothing the old man likes more than lox and eggs and onions. He’ll be in a great mood.”

“You’re going to taunt him with my parents’ housewarming present,” she accused in sudden comprehension. “Phil, they’ve given us the house!”

“They can afford it,” he shrugged. “Dad’s got an accountant who knows every tax shelter on the books. I remember the fancy furniture they gave Gail and Brenda the first year they were married. Hey, I’m their only son.”

On Saturday morning Julius and Bella Kohn arrived for brunch. Kathy watched them tense and exchange a meaningful glance when Phil—seemingly ingenuous—showed off the “great breakfast room furniture Kathy’s parents gave us.” Early the following week Phil came home to announce that
his
parents had ordered formal dining room and living room furniture for them, plus a TV set with the much-coveted 14-inch screen.

“We’ll have to wait three months before it all arrives,” Phil said blithely while Kathy seethed. Her father-in-law had probably ordered the furniture over the phone, no doubt through some “inside connection” that guaranteed a discount price. How could Phil’s parents know what
they
would like?

Kathy’s life revolved around the baby. Jesse was her sole companion from the time Phil left the house at 5:50
A.M.
until he came home around 7
P.M.
In their area of expensive estates she found no opportunity to make friends. She yearned for the camaraderie of young wives and mothers that she would have found in a less affluent suburb.

She adored Jesse. She enjoyed fulfilling all his needs, hearing his laughter, soothing his tears as the first tooth began to push its way through tender gum. But she felt with painful frequency that she was living in exile. Phil came home from the city tired from the long commute and hectic hours in the business. By 9:30 he was falling asleep.

On Saturdays Phil slept late. After breakfast he drove her to the supermarket to shop for the week. On Saturday nights—with Jesse comfortably asleep in the car-bed—they went to one of the new drive-in movies that eliminated the need for a baby-sitter. Saturday night became their night for making love. Phil referred to this as the Saturday night national pastime. One Sunday each month they went to Phil’s parents’ house for dinner. Another Sunday they drove into the city to have dinner with her family. On Thanksgiving they would go to her family in Borough Park.

Phil appeared to be enjoying his job. He talked with pride about his father’s new respect for his abilities. Early in December he came home from the city with a box of Kathy’s favorite chocolates.

“Dad’s giving me a raise,” he announced triumphantly. “I won’t have to wait five years for a partnership,” he predicted.

“Phil, that’s wonderful! How much of a raise?”

“Don’t worry your head about that, baby. It’s enough so we can spend more freely.” He went grocery shopping with her and paid the bill. He paid all the bills. She rarely had more than ten dollars in her wallet. “Maybe we’ll have a few people up for New Year’s Eve and to sleep over. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“We don’t have beds for them,” she reminded reluctantly. The dining room and living room furniture that Phil’s parents had ordered for them had at last arrived. Far too elaborate for her taste, but she mustn’t say that even to Phil, she’d warned herself. “It would have been fun.”

“There’s a place where we can rent beds. I’ll take care of it. We won’t have a big crowd. Six guests,” he decided. “Our first party in our own house!”

Coffee cup in hand, Phil stood by the breakfast room window and stared up at the still night-dark winter sky.

“I hope Wally put the snow tires on the car,” he told Kathy while she warmed Jesse’s morning bottle on the electric range. “I don’t care if it is only mid-December. We’re in for a heavy snow this morning.”

“Maybe you ought to take the train in.”

“Ugh.” He shuddered eloquently. “I can’t face that at this hour. So it’ll take us longer if the snow begins to fall along the way.”

“If the roads are bad, Phil, take the train tonight,” Kathy urged.

“There’s the car—” He swigged down the rest of the coffee, kissed her, and headed down the hall toward the door.

As usual, he and his father both dozed much of the way into the city. By the time they’d turned off the Merritt Parkway, silver dollar-sized flakes had begun to fall. When Wally pulled up before the restaurant where they went each morning for breakfast, the roads and sidewalks were white.

“Go sleep at your mother’s place,” Julius told Wally. “I won’t be needing the car this morning.” Wally’s mother and sister lived in a walk-up in Hell’s Kitchen. “I may even cancel my lunch meeting. I’ll phone around eleven to let you know.”

Phil and his father hurried into the restaurant, already filling up with the regular morning customers. They relished the rush of warmth that greeted them. Savory aromas of fresh coffee, bacon sizzling on the grill, toast popping up provided a cozy welcome. They settled themselves at the rear booth, always held available for them at this hour.

“Early in the year for snow.” Julius appeared unperturbed, however. “If it keeps up like this, we’ll stay in town for the night. I don’t like driving on icy roads.” All at once his voice seemed guarded. “I can sack out in my office. The sofa’s not great, but it’ll do for one night. You got a place to stay in town? If you haven’t, call a hotel by noon. It gets to be a rat race in this weather if you wait until late in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, I can stay with one of the guys for a night,” Phil said. The old man wouldn’t be sacked out on the sofa, he surmised in amusement. He’d be screwing that
zaftig
little bookkeeper that just came to work for the company. “If the snow keeps up.”

After breakfast Phil went up to the office for the customary conference with his father and whatever staff members Julius Kohn chose to call in that morning. Phil was pleased that they were already planning on a charity fashion show for next September. Negotiations were going well with a top designer to work with them on the new line.

“Phil, you’ve spent enough time in the store,” Julius said, while a secretary rounded up those called in for the conference. “Maybe you should go on the road for a while. Fuck the wholesalers—let’s set up some concessions in key stores in big cities.” This had been
his
most recent suggestion, Phil remembered complacently. “Only the best, most expensive stores,” Julius stipulated. He squinted speculatively at Phil. “Is Kathy going to be mad if you’re out of town a lot for a while?”

“Look, it’s business,” Phil said calmly. “She’ll understand.”

At the store he phoned for a weather report. The snow was expected to continue through the day and into the evening. He whistled in approval. He’d have to stay in the city tonight.

He waited for Leila to arrive. She had replaced the iceberg who made it clear she didn’t “mess around with married men, not even the boss’s son.” Leila had not rejected his quick grabs at opportune moments in the dressing room. She was tall, slim, sultry. He suspected she entertained some of their visiting buyers from time to time. This might be just the time to expand their own relationship.

Christ, he hadn’t slept with another woman since he met Kathy. The old man was screwing somebody else on his honeymoon. Like Dad said, what the wives didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

By noon—when the major topic of conversation around town was the snowstorm—Phil confided to Leila at a private moment that there was no way he was going up to Greenwich tonight.

“That’s a long haul,” Leila sympathized. “I’m one express stop on the subway.”

“I suppose I ought to start calling around for a hotel room.” His
eyes
were boldly speculative.

“I suppose—” Her smile was provocative.

Phil glanced around to make sure no one was approaching. He slid a hand down the sharp cleavage of her white crepe blouse.

“Would you join me if I can book a room?”

“No,” she said. “But you can stay at my place if you like.”

“I’d like that very much.” His hand found its way beneath her bra and fondled a hard nipple.

“I’ll meet you at the restaurant.” She reached to pull his hand away. “Let’s don’t advertise to the others. I like to keep my personal life private.”

“What restaurant?” he asked, impatient for night to arrive.

“There’s a great little French place in the West Fifties.” She told him the name and address. Expensive, he noted. But he was avoiding the cost of a hotel room.

“What time?”

“Early,” she said. “Six-thirty. Before the mobs descend.” Now she shot a brilliant smile to someone behind him. “Jean, that cape is gorgeous.”

A little past five Phil phoned Kathy to explain that he and his father were staying in town for the night.

“Where will you be?” He heard a wistful note in her voice.

“Gee, I’m not sure. Dad had his secretary make reservations for us. But I’ll call you later and let you know.”

“You don’t have to do that. It’s just for the night.”

“This has developed into a real blizzard. You all right out there?” he asked solicitously.

“I’m fine,” Kathy assured him.

“Give Jesse a big hug and kiss for me,” he ordered. “I’ll miss you, honey.”

“I’ll miss you, too. But I’m glad you decided not to drive.”

“Call and ask Clara if she can baby-sit Jesse tomorrow night,” he said amorously. “I’ll take my old lady out to dinner.”

Julius decided to let the office staff and the workers leave at four o’clock because of the storm. When Phil came in to say good night, he noticed the
zaftig
little bookkeeper was lingering over a ledger. He’d been right, Phil told himself. The old man had plans.

“I’m taking off, Dad,” he said casually.

“Where you staying?” Julius asked.

“Up in the West Eighties with this guy I know from my theater days. He has a small part in a Broadway play.” He saw his father’s supercilious smile. A Broadway star Julius Kohn respected. An actor in a small part was nobody. “I called him up earlier.” He hesitated a moment. “Look, Dad, if Kathy happens to bring it up, just say I went to the Taft with you.”

“Hun-hunh.” Julius grinned. “You’re going to the Taft with a hot little number.”

“Not the Taft.” He exchanged a loaded glance with his father. “See you for breakfast as usual?”

“Skip breakfast,” Julius said. “I’ll talk to you later in the day.” He winked knowingly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That gives me a lot of leeway. See you tomorrow, Dad.”

Leila was waiting for him in the restaurant vestibule.

“I reserved a table for us in the name of Phillips,” she told him, moving insinuatingly close for a moment. “Just in case the blizzard brought a rush of business.”

The softly lit, attractive restaurant was empty except for two other couples. Their table was in a private corner, as Leila had requested. Right away he knew she was one of those women who liked to linger over dinner. He would have been happier to rush through it and head for her apartment. They’d have a devil of a time finding a cab. Maybe he should have booked a room at a nearby hotel.

They had a cocktail before dinner and white wine with their meal. He was conscious of a heady pleasure at being here with Leila, knowing what was to come. This one would be game for anything, he told himself.

“I know a lot of people are staying in town tonight, but maybe we could get a hotel room close by,” he said over dessert. “It’ll be a bitch to find a cab in this weather.”

“Slum with me,” Leila taunted. “We’ll take a subway. I like my own place. All cozy and comfortable.”

“So we’ll take the subway,” he agreed.

Leila lived in a gray stone on West Seventieth, close to West End. Once it must have been an elegant townhouse. Now it was slightly shabby, struggling to keep up pretenses of its earlier status. Leila’s third floor walk-up apartment consisted of a square living room with a Pullman kitchenette and a tiny bedroom and bath.

“Take off your wet shoes and relax,” she told him as she headed for the bedroom.

Phil kicked off his shoes, walked across the thick gray shag rug to a window. Only an occasional car creeped along on the street below. Parked cars were blobs of white, not likely to be moved tonight. God, he felt like a kid again. It was great.

“If you’d like wine,” Leila called from behind the partially closed door, “there’s a bottle of Chianti in the fridge.”