Retreat (4 page)

    
Now she’d never sleep there again.

    
She needed to pack the rest of her things,
but she didn’t want to do it with David asleep on the couch. It was a mammoth
job for so late at night, and she’d need to make a few trips to a storage unit
until she figured out what her next move would be.

    
She made a mental note to call the storage
place from Aesthetics tomorrow. There was time. David was scheduled to leave in
the morning for Omaha
and would be gone several days. That gave her plenty of time to pack up in
peace.

    
She waffled between anger and pity watching
him there, oblivious to what was happening. She walked into the family room and
sat down on the edge of the couch beside him. She patted his knee.

    
He snorted awake, his eyes half-open and
glassy.

    
“Hmmm?”

    
“I’m leaving,” she said.

    
“Okay!” he called out loudly in his quest
to be awake. “I’ll be up in a minute!” His eyes drifted closed.

    
She took a deep breath.

    
“David,” she said, patting his knee again.

    
“What? What is it?” he said thickly,
grabbing her hand with his, which was sweaty from the warm cocoon of sleep.

    
“My ring. It’s on the table.”

    
“Okay,” he said, settling his head back
against the couch. “We’ll get it fixed in the morning, baby.”

    
He slipped back to sleep.
 

    
“David,” she said, louder than before.

    
No response.

    
“This is hopeless.” She pulled her hand out
of his clammy grasp and pushed herself up off the couch. “And more than you
deserve. Go back to your wife and children. They’ll need you.”

    
She left without trying to wake him again.
He’d be there late into the night with no one to rouse him, and then chances
were he’d be in such a stupor that he wouldn’t realize she was gone until
morning. It was just as well. More time to practice what to say when he called.

    
If he called.

    
She honestly wasn’t sure how he’d react.
Their relationship had been swift but steady. He’d been methodical in his
pursuit. She used to think he loved her, but after tonight she doubted it. If
he loved her he’d have told her the truth.

    
Hell, he might not do anything at all, she
thought, but then she remembered the picture.

    
She frowned as she started her car. He’d be
upset that his lie was exposed.

    
As she backed out of the garage and watched
the door drop down it dawned on her that she hadn’t given any thought to where
she’d end up sleeping, but Jon probably had.

    
A soft smile flirted with her lips. He knew
the George Washington was across the boulevard from Aesthetics and that she’d
likely end up there.

    
She briefly considered going somewhere
else.

    
Very briefly.

    
Country music drifted from the hotel bar on
the open balcony as Clara walked in. It sounded like a live band, and she
thought she could make out a guitar and a fiddle. The music soothed her, making
her feel almost human again after the coldness she’d felt at David’s.

    
After she checked in, Clara pressed the old
round button to call the elevator, watching as a long black arrow swung past
each number as it descended from the seventh floor.
She hoped her room was far away from it or she’d never get any sleep. She
wasn’t sure she’d get any anyway.

    
She hoped there was a mini-bar.

    
There was a loud ring, the sound of brakes
on rubber and a clunk. The elevator door jarred open.

    
“You came back,” Jon said, grinning as he
stepped out.

    
“Shocking, I know,” Clara said. She
couldn’t help but smile back at him. He’d changed out of his black suit into
dark jeans and a gray polo shirt that showed off his dark hair. Plain black
cowboy boots offered the only hint that he was Texan.

    
“I figured you’d be in bed by now,” she
said.

    
“No you didn’t. Care to join me at the
bar?”

    
“I could use a drink,” she admitted. About
seven of them. Fast.

    
“First round’s on me.” He took her bag and
suit and carried them to the bellhop. “Take this to her room, will you?” he
asked, slipping him a bill. “What’s the number, Clara?”

    
“615.”

    
“Room 615. Thanks, man.”

    
The bellhop nodded and headed toward the
elevator.

    
‘Thank you,” she said.

    
“Thank you for coming back.”

    
“This is the only decent hotel downtown.
And it’s right across the street from my office.”
   

    
“That’s how I knew I’d see you again
tonight.”

    
“You’ll never change,” she said. “Always a
step ahead.”

    
“You can count on it.”

    
When they reached the balcony he surveyed
the crowd and then motioned to a table in the back corner, far from the band.

    
“There, we can talk over there,” he said,
raising a hand to the bartender as they walked by, who nodded. A waitress
followed them to the table.

    
“What can I get y’all?”

    
“Margarita?” Jon asked, pointing to Clara
in the dim light.

    
“A glass of cabernet, thank you,” she said.

    
Jon ordered a tall draught, which he pronounced
“draw,” then turned to Clara.

    
“How did it go?”

    
“Uneventful. He was sleeping.”

    
“You didn’t wake him?”

    
“I tried to but he was zonked. I left the
picture and the ring on the kitchen table.”

    
“That’s cold, Clara, even for you.”

    
“No colder than skipping out on your wife
and kids,” she said. “And what do you mean even for me?”

    
“You’re tough, that’s all. You could take
down companies with the best of us.” He studied her face. She imagined she must
look tired. “But I have to admit I’m surprised you aren’t more upset.”

    
“Oh, I’m upset,” she said. “But what’s that
going to do for me? It’s not like I’m going to throw a temper tantrum. It’s
over. He’s a liar. I’m an idiot. I get it. Now I’ve got to move on.”

    
“Clara, come on,” he said, “you know this
isn’t your fault.”

    
“I played by the rules, went by the book,
whatever. And all it does is come back and bite me in the ass.”

    
“Maybe you should go back to breaking the
rules every once in a while,” he said.

    
“I tried that, remember, with you. And look
where we ended up.”

    
The waitress returned with their drinks,
flicking a napkin down for each of them and dropping off a bowl of cowboy-boot
shaped pretzels. Clara absently popped one into her mouth as she listened to
the band crank up a new song.

    
“I wish you hadn’t run off,” Jon said, loud
enough to be heard over the music.

    
“Let’s get something straight,” she said.
“I didn’t just run off. I was in a tough spot. I figured the best thing I could
do was get my ass to grad school at Oklahoma
State. But then I got
there and met David.”

    
“That’s what I don’t get, Clara. How could
you move on so fast? I don’t mean to OSU, which was probably a sensible idea
under the circumstances.” His voice took on an edge. “I mean with him.”

    
“He was in the right place at the right
time. I’d been fired. Lord knows I couldn’t ask you or anyone else at
Freedman’s for a reference. I couldn’t go home and face my father after I’d
snubbed my nose at working for him. My plan was grad school, but then David
just sort of appeared. He didn’t push me into anything. In fact, he made me
feel good about myself when things were pretty damned crappy. I don’t think you
comprehend how devastated I was. I lost an awful lot that night in Texas. You lost
nothing.”

    
“That’s a load of shit,” he said. “I lost
you. And you know damned well you don’t belong here, living like a kept woman.
You’re too smart for that.”

    
“It’s all in the past now. It doesn’t
matter anymore,” she said, picking up her wine and taking a drink. “Except that
you’re sitting here.”

    
He wasn’t budging. “Damn it, Clara, it does
matter. Don’t you get it? When Marcy told me about that damned ring it was all
I could do not to go find the guy and strangle him for even looking at you.”

    
“Oh please. You lost that right a long time
ago,” she said. If he’d been so worried she’d end up with someone else he
should have tried a little harder at not being an ass. “But still you went
after David.”

    
“I didn’t have to dig deep. The information
was right there. I was surprised you didn’t already know to be honest with
you.”

    
She thought about that for a moment. He was
right, of course. She should have done her homework. Why did she always forget
that when her emotions were involved?

    
“Thank God I didn’t get pregnant,” she
said. “I can’t believe I set myself up for that.”

    
Jon looked like he might choke on his beer.
He set the glass down on the wooden table. “How are your parents?” he asked,
changing the subject.

    
“They’re plugging away back home. If you
told me when I was twelve that they’d end up back together I’d have told you to
go pound sand. But they are, happily unmarried.”

    
“That’s crazy,” he said.

    
“I know it is. But it seems to be working.
Ever since they got back together the company’s been going like gangbusters.
They’re deep into bio-fuels now.”

    
“Bio-fuels?” Jon perked up. “What are they
working with? Corn? Soy?”

    
“From what I can tell they’re turning the
waste from other energy consumption into fuel and then selling the fuel or the
green tags.”

    
“Interesting.”

    
“Yeah, they’re using the stuff no one
wants, you know, byproducts like anthracite sludge from the mines and methane
gas from the landfills. If they can’t sell the fuel outright they sell the
green tags, which basically is selling clean air.”

    
“Explain,” he said.

    
“Companies are required to keep their
emissions at a certain level. If they aren’t able to do it, they can buy clean
air from someone else who has more than they need.”

    
“And it’s working for them?”

    
“Seems to be.”

    
“Maybe I should give Bill a call,” Jon
said.

    
“I don’t think Freedman would go for that.
Spritzer & Spritzer is too small a fish for his tastes,” Clara said. She
didn’t want Freedman anywhere near her father’s company, especially now that it
was turning a decent profit.

    
She finished her wine and motioned for the
waitress to bring her another.

    
“Besides, I just dropped off my engagement
ring,” she said, turning back to Jon. “The last thing I need is you talking to
my dad about anything.”

    
The truth was that the day’s revelations
and Jon’s reappearance were wearing on her. She needed time to think, to soak
in the change, to regroup. She tucked her hair behind her ears and continued,
for some reason – perhaps exhaustion – feeling the need to let him down gently.

    
“Jon, the plans I made for the rest of my
life just blew up. I’m so far from being ready to give anyone a green light
into my life, especially you.”

    
“Why especially me?” he asked, putting his
hand against his broad chest as if she’d shot him.

    
Did she really have to explain? Surely he
couldn’t be that obtuse.