A Different Kind Of Forever (23 page)

“Lovely.” He kissed her again, on her forehead. “Good night.”

She got home late, too late for any work. She did not go on her computer, although Michael e-mailed her almost every day. He sent her bits and pieces of his life, the weather, Prescott’s tantrum, Seth’s adventures. She returned in kind, the girls, the play, her students. They did not say they missed one another. They did not talk about seeing each other again.
 

She had thrown herself into work, reworking her current classes, fine-tuning the graduate class to begin that spring. Emily had basketball practice almost every night. Megan became involved in the high school play, and was at her own rehearsals every night. Diane was pulled in too many directions, and she knew she had spread herself too thinly, but it filled the hours that had once been filled with Michael. She missed him unbearably. There were nights that her body ached for him. There were countless things each day, small, funny, moments that she would file in the back of her head so she could tell him, until she remembered he was not around. Every time it happened, it hurt her cruelly. She kept waiting for the feeling to dull. So far, it had not.
 

She met Quinn the following night with no expectations. She was lonely, and he was going to be pleasant company. He was waiting for her in the bar, ordered her a vodka martini without her having to remind him what she drank, and placed his hand on her arm as they walked to their table. He was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie. He was drinking scotch, neat, and immediately asked about her daughters, remembering their names, ages, and even the fact that Rachel had wanted to be in the theater. Diane answered his questions, flattered, smiling.
What a lovely man
, she kept thinking.
 

“So tell me,” she finally said. “ ‘Present Laughter’ is coming this spring? This is so great, Quinn. I’d heard it got raves on the West End.”

“Well, we’re casting now. Derek Shore is coming over, reprising his role. He was just knighted, did you know? Thank God we signed his contract before that whole affair. Sir Derek would have come at quite a premium, apparently. We’ve found a few girls, all lovely, we’ll decide next week. We’re opening in February. It’s a limited run, so I’m not concerned about all that Tony Award madness that everyone seems to be so frantic about. We’ve got a young set designer, really brilliant. Should be quite a good time.”

“That all sounds wonderful, Quinn. Is your daughter here with you?” Diane asked. Quinn’s only child was in her twenties, and often traveled with him.

“No,” he said shortly. “She’s madly in love with a soap opera star and won’t leave London.”

“And you’ve divorced your wife?” she asked casually.

“Yes. It was a long time coming, actually.” He was tapping his finger on the arm of his chair. “I really wish I had done it sooner.”
 

Diane straightened her silverware. “I never thought you would do it. Get a divorce.”

Quinn studied her. “I told you I would. I told you I was in love with you.”

“Yes, I know you did, but after – I mean, I broke things off and then you went back to England and I didn’t hear from you again, and I thought – I just didn’t think you would. That’s all.”

“Yes. Well, the first piece of advice I received from my solicitor was to not give my wife any ammunition. If she thought for a moment there was someone else, she would have fought like a tiger. As it was, she dragged her heels for as long as she could.” He leaned forward. “I won’t be so presumptuous to ask you to pick up where we left off two years ago, but would you consider starting over? I could tempt you with flowers and bad poetry to start.”

“Oh.” Diane sat back in her chair and felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, Quinn. I’ve met someone. Rather recently, in fact. It was quite unexpected. I’m still getting used to the whole idea, actually. He’s younger, and a musician. But he’s – “ She licked her lips and felt a sting of tears behind her eyes. “He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. And he’s in love with me.”

“Well.” Quinn frowned for a moment, then shrugged. “Does he mind you having dinner with a man who once had designs on your body?”

“He’s in London now, scoring a movie. He’s been gone a few weeks. But even if he were here, he wouldn’t mind.”

“A movie?” The waiter served salads, and Quinn ordered another scotch. “Who’s he working with?”

“Gordon Prescott.” Diane ate some salad. “Michael says he’s a lunatic.”

“Good Lord. Yes, in fact, Gordon is a lunatic. Your musician must be very talented. Gordon only works with the best. Unfortunately, he has a tendency to chew his people up, suck them dry, then spit them back out. Very few people work with him a second time. He’s brilliant, of course, but brutal.” He was watching her. “You do seem very happy. And you look splendid. He’s a lucky man.”

“Thank you for saying that. But I’m the one who feels lucky.”

He sighed. “Well, here’s the thing. There’s a dinner in a couple of weeks, welcoming Derek the Great to New York. It’s a black tie thing, at the Pierre, very posh. I was rather hoping you’d come with me. I’m in need of a date, apparently, and you can make decent small-talk, know the right fork to use, that sort of thing.” Diane smiled. “The food will probably be dreadful,” he went on, “but you’ll get to meet some very notorious theater people.”

Diane thought a moment. “That would probably be a great evening. I’d love to come with you.”

“Excellent. I’ll call you, and let you know everything, times and so forth.” He held up his half-empty glass. “Here’s to being friends then, I suppose.”

“Yes.” She touched his glass with hers. “That would be good. Friends.”

Rachel came to a rehearsal one night the following week, and she and Diane went out to dinner afterwards. As Rachel praised her mother, Diane looked at her skeptically.

“Thank you, my darling daughter, but I know your taste. You have little patience for comedy, unless of course it’s combined with blazing satire or in protest of some massive government plot to subvert the masses. You probably think my play is trite.”

“Mom.” Rachel’s hair was still long, and she wore it in a braid over one shoulder. She had attracted several looks as they entered the restaurant, her legs endless under a short skirt. Now she took a sip of her water. “Mom, not everything I like is avant-garde. I love some of the old stuff. In fact, I’m dying to see your old lover-boy, Harris, and his Coward thing. Next spring, I hear. Have you seen him?”

Diane nodded.” Yes. I’m going with him to a dinner for Sir Derek Shore.”

“You’re going on a date with him?” Rachel set down her glass, hard, spilling water. “Mom, what happened to Michael?”

Diane looked at Rachel, puzzled. “Nothing happened to Michael. He’s having a miserable time. We e-mail just about every day.” Diane narrowed her eyes. “When did you become my watchdog, anyway?”

Rachel shrugged. “I kind of got to like Michael, Mom, you know that. I just remember back when Quinn was in the picture. You were ga-ga over him.”

Diane looked at her daughter. “No, I wasn’t ga-ga. That was you.”

Rachel looked at her severely. “No shit, you were ga-ga, okay? I was waiting for the two you to live happily ever after so he could cast me in his next play.”

“Rachel!” Diane exclaimed. “What a thing to say.”

“So you two are, what, just friends now? Invite him to see me.”

Diane stared. “See you? When?”

“Saturday, Mom? You said you were coming.” The company that Rachel was involved in, the 13th Street Chorus, was finished with Shakespeare and working through George Bernard Shaw. They were doing three abridged versions of his work in one show, and Diane had said she would try to go.

“Oh, come on,” Rachel urged her. “It’s the least you can do. It’s not like I’m asking you to sleep with him to advance my career.”

“God, Rachel.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “He wanted to, didn’t he?”

Diane looked at her daughter, undecided, then nodded. “Yes. How do you know I didn’t?”

Rachel sighed. “He was married then, wasn’t he? And you did raise me. I know you wouldn’t fool around with a married man. Not even Quinn Harris.”

Diane’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe it. I actually made a moral impression here. My mission as a mother has been successful.”

“Don’t get sloppy on me, Mom.” Rachel shrugged. “But yeah, you were a good mother.”

“Tell your sister, Emily, for me, would you please? She hates me so much right now.”

“What is it this time?”

Diane shrugged. “The same thing it’s been for weeks.”

Rachel looked thoughtful. “The car thing? Dad says he’s going to take care of all that, didn’t you know?”

Diane was surprised. “No. I didn’t know. Then why is she so angry at me?”

Rachel shrugged. “Who knows? With her it could be anything.”

“You’re right.” She shook her head. “So, on another subject, how do you like your new half-sister?” Kevin’s wife had delivered a baby girl two weeks before. Rachel launched into a story about her father and his second round of diaper changing. Diane half-listened, her mind wandering. She was worried about Emily. She thought about Quinn. Mostly, she missed Michael.

Indian summer returned on the Saturday night that Quinn and Diane went to see Rachel’s show. Quinn met her in the seedy little theater, where they sat on folding chairs and the air conditioning did not work. But the house was full. The little troupe was developing something of a reputation. They whizzed through three of G.B.Shaw’s finest in a little over ninety minutes. Quinn and Diane laughed along with the rest of the audience. The writing was very good. Rachel was in all three bits, playing a man each time, her bad makeup and ill-fitting wig, along with a shabby costume that did nothing to disguise her lovely figure, all part of the gag.

Afterwards, Quinn took the whole cast to a corner bar and bought them round after round. Rachel’s cast-mates were all young and obviously impressed with Quinn Harris. This was Quinn in his element, telling stories of his own early days, dissecting scenes and speeches with people as passionate about theater as he was. Rachel and her crowd were enthralled. Diane was charmed.
 

The impromptu party broke up after one in the morning, and since Diane did not want to take the train home so late, she stayed with Rachel. Her daughter had a studio that once sat in the shadow of the Twin Towers. She had been there a little over a year, and loved living in Chinatown. The next morning, they had breakfast together, and Diane didn’t get home until Sunday afternoon. Megan had called to say she and Emily were staying at their father’s another night, and wouldn’t be back until Monday after school. Diane went outside and spent the warm afternoon raking leaves. Then she went inside and sat alone, waiting for Michael to come home.

Diane had the perfect dress for the Pierre Hotel. She had found it in a vintage clothing shop, black satin, strapless. She tried it on at a whim, with Sue Griffen egging her on, and it had fit perfectly, sewn-in bones lifting her breasts beneath the shimmering fabric. Sue insisted she buy it, saying that, someday, she would need a dress like that. It hung in the closet for two years, but she took it out Saturday night. Quinn sent a limo for her, against her protests. He was co-hosting the event, and had to stay at the hotel. So the car, black and tasteful, picked her up and dropped her at Central Park East, and as she swept into the elegant, private room, a murmur ran through the crowd. She looked stunning. She was a new face. People buzzed.

Quinn was delighted to see her, kissing her coolly on the cheek. He stayed at her side through the cocktail hour, introducing her, his hand on her back. She knew he hated these events. He disliked meeting strangers, and was not at ease in crowds. He was restless, nervous, drinking club soda and being polite. Diane was having fun. The people there she had seen on stage or read about in magazines.
 

Sir Derek Shore was larger than life, a handsome, towering man, openly homosexual, whose long and distinguished career ranged from Greek tragedy to musical comedy. An icon in England, he was rarely seen on an American stage, and he was milking this event for all it was worth.

When Quinn introduced him to Diane, he threw out a dazzling smile and put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

“Thank God, somebody I don’t know. These people bore, bore, bore me to death. You’d think the New World could come up with some new faces. And I do love a woman with glorious tits. I may be a sad old pouf, but I have excellent taste. Quinn, are you sleeping with her? You should, dear boy, after that dreary ex-wife of yours. May I steal her? I need to be protected. That bitch from the Mirror is here, and I if I’m with a woman, she won’t bother with a photograph.” He steered Diane in the direction of the bar, ordering scotch for himself. Diane was sipping champagne, and Derek looked her up and down closely.

“So tell me, Diane, who-no-one-has-heard-of, you know our Quinn? He does deserve someone rich and juicy. Did you ever meet the famous ex-wife?”

Diane shook her head. “No.”

“Such a slut - really. I say that about a lot of people, I know, but with her it’s the truth. She actually gave head to a male nurse while in hospital after giving birth to her daughter. She slept around for years. That’s why it was such a shock when she fought the divorce. So ugly. Fleet Street went onto mourning when the whole thing was finally over. She really raped him. Financially of course.”

“Is that so?” Diane asked faintly.

“Oh, it was such a bad show. And then the daughter turns against Quinn and sides with the mother. What a spoiled little cunt. After all Quinn has done for her. He worshipped her, and she hasn’t spoken to him in months. That’s the buzz, anyway. I feel terrible for him. He’s one of my favorite people, you know.”

Diane downed the rest of her champagne. “Why did he finally divorce her, do you think?”

“Well, everyone was looking for The Other Woman, but there was none to be found. There were lots of short term things, of course. I mean, he is a healthy, normal man, isn’t he? He had to be getting something from someone. But no young thing tucked away, making demands. I suppose he finally decided to live his life on his own terms.” He lifted his eyebrows. “He’s a fine person. So if you are after him, you’ve got no one standing in your way. He’d be easy to catch, really.”