The Perfect Affair (13 page)

R
andall stepped through the door of his spacious colonial-style home in the Mt. Vernon subdivision on the Potomac. He’d done a rare thing: left a conference early. It couldn’t be helped. After getting Sherri’s phone call about Miss Elaine, he knew that staying another night in New York wasn’t an option. So he’d checked out of the hotel and boarded the first available flight back to Virginia.

He set down his luggage and walked into the living room. “Aaron! Albany! Anybody home?”

A shriek was proof that Albany had heard him. “Daddy!” She liked to think of herself as a woman, but this daddy’s girl had no problem running and jumping into his arms. “How was New York? Did you bring me back anything?”

“You’d want something from New York?” Randall teased. “I can’t think of anything from there that I could buy you.”

“Are you kidding?” she asked, following him into the master suite. “They’ve got all the fashions there, and all of the designers too. You could have brought me a Louis Vuitton, some Manolo Blahniks, something!”

“Why would I bring Louis or Manolo to the house? You know you can’t date until you’re sixteen.”

“Dad!”

Randall chuckled as he reached into his carry-on and pulled out a gift bag. “Here you go, baby.”

“Thanks, Daddy! Ooh,” she said after quickly relieving her father of the purchase and rushing to open it. “What did you get?”

“Whatever it is, you don’t need it.” Aaron strolled into the room eating a sandwich. “Hey, Dad,” he said around a mouthful of roast beef.

“You know your mother would kill you if she saw you eating like that. Where is your napkin, or better yet . . . a plate?”

“Dang, Dad. I’m not three. I know how to not get anything on the floor.” They all looked as a mayonnaise-covered piece of lettuce dropped to the floor. Aaron’s expression was innocent and endearing as he looked up. “Oops.”

“Uh-huh. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make sure our housekeeper stays employed. You know, doing what I can for the economy and all.”

“Shut up, boy.” Albany had removed the colorful bangles from the bag and was now placing them on her arm. “You’re not doing a thing but making a mess.” And then, “Thanks, Dad. These are pretty cool. But on my birthday, can you fly me and a friend out to New York? Let me and Lauren go on a shopping spree?”

Randall gave Albany a look. “Go on and get your money together, girl. If you can pay for the plane ticket, hotel room, taxi fare, and food and still have money, you have my permission to go and shop till you drop!”

Albany’s face matched her whine. “Daddy. All of that is supposed to be included as part of my gift!”

The children continued chatting with their father, with lots of teasing and endless questions about his trip to New York. It was clear that they hadn’t heard about their grandmother. Randall decided to keep it that way until he knew more. After giving Aaron his gift, a wireless, wearable video cam, and telling them that yes, they could go and show their friends, he retired to the master suite. He removed his travel clothes and was headed to the shower when he decided to call Sherri instead.

She picked up on the second ring. “Randall, are you home?”

“Yes, baby,” he answered, hearing the angst in her voice. “Just got in. Don’t worry about anything here. How’s Mom?”

“We’re waiting to find out. Ms. Riley and I finally convinced Mom to go to the hospital.”

“Good. Was she lucid?”

“It’s so strange, Randall. When I arrived, I found the same Mom I’ve known for thirty-seven years, except for one thing. She was aware of being away from the house, but she didn’t remember leaving.”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“I asked her what the last thing was she remembered before Ms. Riley and Officer Lang found her at the park. She said she remembered pouring herself a glass of water. I walked into the kitchen and saw a glassful of water on the island. She never drank it, Ran. She poured the water and then, for whatever reason, she walked out of the house with absolutely no awareness. I’m so scared,” she continued, her voice a near whisper and laced with unshed tears.

“Do you need me down there?” Randall asked. “Blair is still here and my bags are still packed. I can be on the next plane to Raleigh.”

“No, that’s okay.You would be a big comfort, as always, but until the tests are finished and we talk to the doctors, there’s really nothing else to do.”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t like the thought of you dealing with this alone.”

“I’m not alone.” He smiled, and he imagined her doing the same. “Ms. Riley is not only Mom’s neighbor, she is heaven sent. I was pretty upset when I arrived here, but she talked me off the ceiling. I also spoke with Nathan, who is on standby to fly in from Atlanta, depending on what the doctor says. Of course Lady is Mom’s shadow, and follows her everywhere.”

“I feel better knowing you’ve talked to your brother. How is he doing otherwise?”

“He sounded good; tired though. I guess he and some of ‘his boys,’ as he calls them, just got home after having tried to drink up half of Dallas.”

“Ha! That boy is getting too old to act a fool.”

“Try to tell him that. He’s thirty-two going on thirteen! Part of the reason is that Mom spoiled him. He’s a mama’s boy through and through, and like you, I had to stop him from jumping on the next plane.” A pause and then, “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m pretty beat; was getting ready to jump in the shower and then I’ll probably take a brief nap.”

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll call you as soon as we know anything.”

“Call me in an hour either way. I want to stay posted on what’s going on, okay?”

“Okay. I love you, Randall.”

“I love you too, baby. And try not to worry. Everything is going to be okay.”

He ended the call, turned on his laptop and opened the folder labeled Cytology, marked as such so that Sherri wouldn’t go near it. Setting up this folder had been James’s idea, suggested after Randall, in confidence, had shared the tricky situation he faced. He moved all of what he didn’t want Sherri to see into this folder, and further secured it with a password code.

After a long, hot shower, Randall lay naked on top of the designer comforter. His thoughts meandered from the conversation he’d had with James in New York to the challenging situation befalling Miss Elaine in North Carolina; from the love of his kids to the support of his colleagues, and finally to the tempting times he’d spent with the freelance writer, Jacqueline Tate.

The woman was intriguing, no doubt about that. If he hadn’t been headed to the airport when she’d stopped by his hotel room—smelling nice, looking good and suggesting the salacious—who knows what might have happened.

“W
hich suit should I wear?”

It was Tuesday following the three days Jacqueline had spent in New York with Randall. An emergency phone call had prevented her from conducting a second interview there, and prevented the impromptu morning sex romp she’d planned. A conversation with James revealed the call was from Randall’s wife, making Jacqueline none too happy. She’d texted her disappointment to Randall, who’d suggested she come to PSI, interview him at his company’s headquarters. She’d quickly agreed. That they were back in D.C., close to his home, was no longer a concern. Being in his office would work to her advantage. For Jacqueline, the time spent in New York had only solidified what had begun in LA. She knew that between her and Sherri, she was close to tipping the love scales in her favor and wanted to do everything absolutely right, down to the last earring and choice of purse.

Kris sat on the bed in front of her, having seen her in the beige suit and now eyeing the bold red choice. “I like that one,” she finally answered.

Jacqueline looked down at the single-button suit with its dipping cleavage and skirt that brushed her knee. “Are you sure it isn’t . . . too much.”

“Not at all. That boring world of photogenes and chromosomes could use a dash of excitement, something stimulating to wake up what I’m sure is a drab, tasteless office filled with men of equal flair.”

“I’m not sure.” Jacqueline continued to eye herself in the mirror. “I want to be taken seriously.”

“Believe me, you will be.”

“Okay. I’ll wear the red.” She flashed Kris an appreciative smile. “Thank you for being the best BFF a girl could ask for. You’ve always steered me right.”

“And today will be no exception. Okay, next question. Have you been able to reach Phillip?”

Jacqueline flopped on the bed. “Finally, and yes, he received my e-mail. Thank God for that man. I don’t know how I would have been able to pull this off without him.”

“You haven’t yet,” Kris chided. “But I agree that Phillip will make it easier. Even though you’ve said he’s not your boyfriend, Randall’s wife has to feel better seeing him with you, knowing he’s around.”

“You’re right about that!”

Kris cocked her head to the side as she watched Jacqueline pull a brush through her thick tresses. “How long do you plan to stay here, at Phillip’s house?”

“Because he spends so much time with Marco, he says it doesn’t matter. So probably for the rest of the time I’m in the states.”

“I’m not trying to be Debbie Downer, Jack, really I’m not. But what do you think is going to happen when you go home to Canada? Do you really think this affair can continue long distance?”

“Maybe, maybe not. If I have my way, by the time this freelance gig is over, it’ll be time to change my zip code to one in District of Columbia or in Alexandria,Virginia. Permanently.”

Sherri paced the master suite, where she’d retreated to make this call. She’d tried to convince herself otherwise, since returning from Raleigh two days ago, but there was no denying the obvious. Randall was acting strangely. She couldn’t put her finger on it; at first she had felt that worry for her mother was clouding her judgment. After he’d returned from LA, they seemed to be moving in a good direction, putting some of the spark back into their marriage. But since returning from New York, he was definitely preoccupied. And now this? Having been unsuccessful in convincing herself that this was all in her head, it was time to entertain another opinion.The first person she’d thought to call was Renee, but given her single friend’s low view of relationships in general and men in particular, she rang Debbie instead.

“Hey, Sherri!” Debbie’s cheerful voice rang into a bedroom whose gloom was not only due to the morning rains.

“Hello, Debbie. Do you have a minute? I need a second opinion because I’m about to get all worked up.”

“Sure, I’m stuck in traffic anyway. What’s going on?”

“Probably nothing. But hear me out anyway. I noticed this morning that Randall is dressing differently than usual for a regular day at work.”

“What does he usually wear?”

“Either jeans or khakis and a button-down or polo.”

“What is he wearing today?”

“Jeans, but paired with one of his nicer blazers and the nice loafers instead of his regular Jordans or other casual shoes.”

“Okay.”

“I asked him why he was dressed up. He said because of an interview he was doing with
Science Today
.” Sherri paused after this declaration.

“So far, so normal,” Debbie finally replied into the silence. “Why are you getting upset?”

“The freelance writer conducting the interview, their second in almost as many weeks. Her name is Jacqueline Tate and . . . well . . . let’s just say Halle Berry would become background standing next to her.”

“A real average-looking chick, huh?”

“Exactly.”

Debbie laughed. “You’ve met her?”

“At dinner during date night a week or so ago, she showed up with a man as handsome as she is beautiful on her arm.”

“Her man?”

“It looked like it.”

“So he has an interview with a pretty woman who’s involved with a handsome man and spruces up a bit. Come on, Sherri. How long have you been married to that man?”

“We’re celebrating our fifteenth anniversary in August.”

“Then you’ve known him long enough to know that this doesn’t mean anything except that he is as normal as any other red-blooded male. He’s like a peacock, trying to spread his feathers solely to impress. Unless the interview is taking place in a hotel room instead of his office, I wouldn’t read too much into his actions.”

“That’s how I felt . . . at first.”

“And then?”

“Debbie, I know that man almost better than I know myself. I can gauge his moods, guess his attitude . . . heck, I can almost tell if he has a fever simply by looking at him. Something is going on with him. Something he isn’t sharing. So no matter whatever or whoever I can feel something amiss deep down in my gut.”

There was silence as Sherri walked over to the sitting area she’d redecorated just last year. She sat on one of two oversized chairs that faced the room’s fireplace and two of its three windows. The rain matched her mood.

“Sherri?”

“Uh-huh?”

“This is a personal question and you don’t have to answer, but has Randall ever been unfaithful?”

“Once, a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

“It was during the second year of our marriage. We were both young and stupid, not understanding that marriage is about compromise, not competition. I was the strong, independent sort, focused on my own career. He wanted a doting wife. Let’s just say there was a certain secretary at the place he worked, who paid him the attention he craved. It lasted a month before I found out. He ended it immediately, and Mom talked me out of getting a divorce. We finally got the counseling that should have preceded our marriage, learned to communicate better, and basically just grew the hell up. We’ve had our share of challenges, but he hasn’t given me another reason to doubt his faithfulness since.”

“Then don’t doubt it, Sherri. Trust your marriage, and trust your man.”