Balancing Act (16 page)

“It will be for the right reasons, believe me. I’ve been honest with Griff and he’s been honest with me. He says he understands and will wait for me to make my mind up. I didn’t jump into this. I’ve given it a lot of serious thought. For me now, at this point in time, this is my best move. I’ll deal with later when later comes. All I know is I love him and I love my career. I have to find a way to combine the two of them, and going back for my doctorate is the first step. It’s the best I can do for now. Everything is up front. Neither of us would have it any other way.”

“Okay, I can buy that,” Katy said, sinking deeper into the leather chair. One shoe slipped off and she sighed with relief. “If I could just take off about twenty-five pounds, I know my feet wouldn’t hurt so much.” She grimaced. “How you manage to walk around in those three-inch heels is beyond me. What’s the shoe count this month? I picked one hundred sixty-six in the pool. Just tell me if I’m close.”

Dory laughed. At first she had been less than amused when she found out the girls in the outer office were running a pool on her shoes. Then she had been flattered when they continued the practice. “No way. Pay your money and take your chances like everyone else.”

“Much as I’d like to chitchat some more, I have to clean up my desk, run down to copy-editing, and then it’s home for me and the love of my life. I’m referring now to my cat, Goliath, not my husband. We’re not speaking. It was his turn to do the laundry last night and he copped out. He said his back hurt. He’s starting to give me that ‘women’s work’ routine. It isn’t sitting too well with me.”

“That’s because you make more money than he does. I told you, every dollar you earn above his is a dollar’s worth of power. Guess you’re going to have to turn down your next raise. You’re due next month, aren’t you?” Dory’s voice was light, teasing, but there was something in her eyes that made Katy think twice before she answered.

“I would never turn it down. I would, however, do some serious reevaluation of my marriage.”

Dory said nothing, but her eyes were sympathetic as she watched Katy bend over and struggle to slip her swollen foot into her espadrille. She winced and Dory looked away. “I’ll see you in the morning and thanks again for the invitation.”

“Any time,” Katy said, limping from the office.

The end of another day. For some reason Dory felt saddened at the thought. There weren’t too many days left. She couldn’t start thinking wishy-washy thoughts now. The die was cast; she was leaving. Maybe she would return and maybe she wouldn’t. For now she had an evening with her aunt and Griff to look forward to. His last night in town and he was generously offering to share it with her and her aunt. It pleased her that he was going to the theater after a busy day and all the last-minute details that had to be taken care of before he could leave in the morning. That was so like Griff. He really put out for her in more ways than one. And, in her own way, she did the same thing. It was give and take. Griff wouldn’t exactly “suffer” through the play but she knew he would rather be doing something else. Thoughtful, kind, wonderful Griff.

Dory straightened her desk as she made her brief call to Griff to arrange their meeting in the coffee shop. He was agreeable as always. “Love you,” Dory said softly.

“Yeaaaaaah,” Griff drawled.

 

 

Dory knew when Pixie walked into the coffee shop, even though she couldn’t see her. Pixie’s entrance had created a hush. Dory smiled. There was no doubt about it. Pixie was an attention getter. She stood up and waved. “Over here, Pixie.”

“My God, you look stunning, Dory. You do take after our side of the family. I’m not late, am I?” she asked, looking around. “Where’s Grit? He is coming, isn’t he?”

“Of course. He’ll be here any minute now. Good Lord, wherever did you get that outfit? Is that a new wig? Those aren’t real diamonds, are they? Is that cape really lined with ermine?”

“One thing at a time. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Yes, the wig is new. I always wanted a black wig. I had to take this one because all the others made me look like Cher. I’m as skinny as she is but there the resemblance ends. I had to glue it. There’s a high wind out there. Of course these diamonds are real. Your mother would give her eye teeth for them. I needed a cape and this was the only one I could find. What difference does the temperature make? The theater will be air-conditioned. You can wear ermine any time, any place. What are we having to drink?”

“Coffee. Here comes yours.”

Pixie looked around to see if alcoholic beverages were served. Seeing nothing but a coffee urn, she rummaged in her bag and came up with a silver flask. She faked a sputtery kind of cough and poured liberally for the waitress’s benefit. “Medicinal purposes.”

“If that’s your story, it’s okay with me,” the waitress said wearily.

“Smart-ass.” Pixie grimaced.

Dory stifled a laugh. “Here’s Griff.”

“You didn’t tell me he was this good-looking,” said Pixie. She held out her hand to Griff. “Be continental and pretend you’re kissing my hand. I do so love attention. Look at these poor starved souls in here. This will be something for them to talk about for days.”

Griff swallowed hard as Dory made the introductions.

“It’s all right, young man. I usually have this effect on people. Isn’t that right, Dory?”

“Absolutely,” Dory said.

“I always wanted to be a household word. You know, famous, that kind of thing,” Pixie said, yanking at the black wig.

“In Mother’s house you’re a household word,” Dory said as they sat down. “She called me today and told me you went for your annual checkup. How did it go?”

“The doctor was dumbfounded. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Your mother seems to think I’m senile. I sent her an e-mail saying I would live. That should ruin her day tomorrow when she gets it. The doctor was amazed when he took my history and found out I had had so much repair work done. He said it was astonishing that a woman would go under the knife so often and for so little results. He also told me I should get a cat or some other dumb animal for my twilight years. I let him know what I thought of that in quick order. Grit, would you like a belt of this?” Pixie held out her flask. Griff shrugged and took a swig.

“Jesus, what is that?” he croaked.

“Some people call it white lightning. Others call it shine. I have a whole barrel in my kitchen. It was a legacy from one of my husbands. Right now, I can’t remember which one. But it will come to me.”

“Those gloves are certainly elegant,” Dory said, peering closely at her aunt’s hands.

“I only wore them because my hands are smeared with Porcelana. I do hate those damn liver spots. No one really believes they’re giant freckles except your mother,” Pixie said fretfully. “Shouldn’t we be leaving? It’s not nice to walk in after the play starts.”

“I guess so. Why so quiet, Griff?” Dory asked.

“No reason. Here, let me help you . . . Pixie.” He looked wildly at Dory and mouthed the words. “What should I call her?”

“Of course you should call me Pixie. Everyone else does,” Pixie said, craning her neck and knocking the wig off center. “Is it on straight, Grit?”

“Looks all right to me. Dory?”

“Perfect.”

With a swish of the ermine-lined cape Pixie sailed down the aisle.

Dory almost choked on her own laughter when Griff pinched her arm. “She’s wearing Puma funning sneakers.”

“Guess her bunions are bothering her again. Don’t worry, no one will notice unless she trips on that damn cape. Don’t you just love her?”

Griff grinned from ear to ear as he linked arms with both women. “I’ll be the envy of every man at the theater. Not one but two beautiful women. What more could a guy ask for?”

“Not much,” Pixie snapped. “I like him, Dory. He knows beauty when he sees it.”

 

 

“There’s one thing I hate about the theater,” Pixie whispered during the third act. “They don’t sell anything for you to eat during the play. I like to nibble and sip.”

Dory nudged Griff, who was dozing in his seat. She smiled. “He only came along because he knows I like the theater. He’d rather be home watching a ball game. Isn’t he wonderful, Pixie?”

“Do you go to ball games with him?” Pixie whispered.

“No, we go to wrestling matches. I hate them but I go and scream like everyone else. After I’m there I don’t really mind. Griff loves wrestling.”

“One of my favorite husbands loved wrestling but I can’t remember which one. This play is boring. No wonder he went to sleep. Did I tell you about my pen pal?”

“No. Male or female? Ooops, sorry. What’s he like?”

“Smashing. I think. We’re really getting to know one another. One of these days I plan to meet him. He writes delightful letters.”

“What kind do you write?”

“What do you think? I lie my head off. No woman ever tells a man the truth unless she’s a fool. Women my age, that is. You better wake your prince before the play is over. He might be embarrassed when the lights go on. He’s a nice young man, Dory. I like him.”

Dory let out a long sigh of relief. She had been waiting all evening for Pixie’s opinion. Her two favorite people in the whole world and they liked one another. “I’m glad.” Pixie knew how important her opinion was to Dory.

“I wasn’t sleeping, merely resting my eyes,” Griff said sheepishly. Pixie smirked. Plays were boring. She’d take the wrestling matches any day over Broadway.

“We’ll put you in a cab, Pixie,” Dory said. “I’d go along home with you but I have a big day tomorrow. And Griff has an even bigger one.”

“You mean you and I aren’t going for a nightcap? I thought we would go to Gallagher’s and pick up some hunks and play around a little. Actually, I thought I would pick up a hunk and you could watch. Now that I met Grit I don’t think you should play around. It doesn’t hurt to look, though.”

“Pixie, it’s Griff, not Grit. Can I have a rain check? I know I’m missing out on hours of fun and I do love to watch you in action but I really do have a big day.”

“You know me. Once I get a name in my mind it stays. To me he’s always going to be Grit. Good name. Sturdy. Guts and all that. Of course you can have a rain check. Hang on to that guy, he’s good stuff.”

“I know,” Dory laughed as Griff flagged down a cab and gave the driver the Dakota’s address.

“Driver, ignore that address and take me to Gallagher’s,” said Pixie. “You know where it is, don’t you.”

“You bet.” The driver grinned and winked at Pixie.

“Well don’t just sit here, burn rubber, man,” Pixie said, leaning back against the seat.

“You got it.” The driver smiled to himself. He got them all. This night shift was something else.

It was really hard to say good night like this, but Dory and Griff had agreed to call it a night. They hailed separate cabs and Dory sank back against the cushions. She was too tired to care. What a day this had been!

 

 

Griff listened with one ear to the chattering cabbie on the ride across town. His thoughts were with Dory, her lovable eccentric aunt, and the move he was making in the morning. At this time tomorrow he would be in a new environment and loving every minute of it. His dream was finally coming true. And in a couple of weeks his dream would have a big gold ring around it when Dory joined him. It still bothered him that marriage wasn’t in the picture, but he was coming to terms with the whole idea.

“What’ya say, buddy, am I right or wrong?”

“Hmmmmmnnn?” Griff said absentmindedly.

“That’s what I say. If some crazy football team wants to give you five million smackers, take the money and run I say. Hell, the kid can always go back to school later on. Best goddamn running back I’ve ever seen. Heisman winner to boot.”

“Hmmmmnnn.” The old lady was a pure delight. For some crazy reason she was everything he thought she would be. No wonder Dory was such a wonderful person. Imagine growing up with someone like Pixie. She had liked him, and approved, he could tell. And that flirty wink she gave him. He smiled to himself. She was okay in his book. But he cringed a little when he thought of his mother meeting Pixie.

The play wasn’t bad, what he could remember of it. It wasn’t that he minded going to the theater or to a musical with Dory, but if he had a choice he would pick wrestling. Dory was a good sport about going with him, even though he knew she didn’t particularly care for sports.

“I think Georgia can get along without him. Don’t you think Walker is doing the right thing?”

“Hmmmmnnn.” Now that his big move was almost upon him he was more certain than ever that it was the right thing. The clinic had always felt right; it was the move with Dory that gave him jittery moments. He knew now it was right because it
felt
right, he told himself. And when he felt right it was all systems go.

“Driver, let me out here, I’m going to walk the rest of the way. Hell no, I’m going to run the rest of the way,” Griff said, thrusting a ten-dollar bill at the driver. “Keep the change and you’re absolutely right about Walker, he is the best goddamn running back I’ve ever watched.”

“You got it, buddy.” The driver grinned as he pocketed Griff’s money. “See you around. Jersey is only across the river.”

Running? Griff looked down at his evening clothes and his shiny shoes. Without a moment’s hesitation he bent down and took off his shoes and socks. What the hell, it was only four blocks. No one in New York would give him a second thought as he raced by in his bare feet. Damn, he felt good. Tomorrow he was going to feel even better.

D
ory’s stomach churned all the way down in the elevator as she stood beside David Harlow, feeling his shoulder brush insistently against her own. She had been aware of the speculating glances from the women in the outer offices as Mr. Harlow escorted her to the elevator. Word was out that he was taking her to dinner. She must have been mistaken, Dory cautioned herself; those same speculating glances couldn’t have been touched with pity. Could they?

Mr. Harlow stood aside to allow her to walk through the revolving doors in the lobby. He walked too close and she resented the way he cupped her elbow in his hand as they walked to the corner.

“A taxi? Or would you rather walk?” Harlow asked.

“Let’s walk. It’s a nice evening. We could use the exercise after sitting in an office all day.” There was no way she was going to sit in a taxi with David Harlow. If all the stories were true, and she was beginning to suspect they were, she had no intention of allowing him to paw at her.

They made small talk as they walked to the restaurant. She winced and tried to draw away from him when he put his arm around her shoulder as they waited to be seated. There was something possessive in his touch, something too deliberate, too firm, too certain.

“Drink?”

“Whiskey sour on the rocks,” Dory replied smoothly. She wouldn’t allow him to rattle her. And she wouldn’t have more than two drinks with this man. She needed her wits. This was supposed to be a spectacular day! A day that held such promise for her future . . . if she wanted it. She wouldn’t allow a man like David Harlow to spoil it for her. Why hadn’t she made some excuse that she couldn’t join him for dinner? She should have. But she had been so filled with herself, so confident, and he had approached her at the height of her ego trip. All through the afternoon she had had time to reconsider, but by then it was too late.

“The food here is excellent,” Harlow said as he lifted his drink to toast Dory. “Here’s to a long and fruitful relationship.”

“I’m leaving, Mr. Harlow. How long and fruitful our relationship will be still remains to be seen.” Her mouth was dry and she could barely get the words out of her mouth. She didn’t like this man. Neither his reputation as a lecherous bastard nor his arrogance.

“You’ll be back,” Harlow said loftily. “I carry a lot of weight at the magazine. I have your future right here in my hip pocket, Dory. You and I could make an excellent . . . working team.” Dory was fully aware of the pregnant pause in his statement. “I personally approved of Lizzie’s choice to have you succeed her. I’ve already gone to the board of directors and read off your qualifications like a litany. They were as impressed as I. We’re all looking forward to your return.”

“I haven’t even left yet. And, I didn’t say I would be back. I haven’t decided.” Dory didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking. “Why all this sudden interest, Mr. Harlow? You’ve never expressed interest in my career before this.”

“Darling, a man of my position cannot offer his attentions to every little copy girl whom
Soiree
employs. I admit I am irrevocably attracted to executive women who share my station and power. Didn’t you know, I’m an equal opportunity employer!” Harlow seemed to find this extremely funny, and as he laughed he firmly gripped Dory’s hand. “I could be of tremendous help to you, Dory. The right word here and there, and you could make it all the way to the top. I could do that for you.”

Dory cringed and tried to cover her distaste, hating herself for her pretended politeness and her reluctance to make an enemy of this man. She knew she should simply stand, excuse herself and leave him. To hell with David Harlow. She didn’t need this weasel . . . did she? Evidently,
he
thought she did. How slick he was. So certain she would seek his patronage. Dory forced what she hoped was a smile to her lips. “Are you saying I won’t be able to succeed without your help? What about those qualifications you lit-anized for the board?”

“Dory, I’m not quibbling about your ability. Your ideas have always been creative and valuable to the magazine. All I said was I could help you make it to the top. Success requires a particular type of woman. A sophisticated worldly woman who knows where her allegiances lie. I believe you’re that kind of woman.”

“You didn’t answer my question. What would I have to do to have you in my corner?” Her heart was pumping madly and she was certain the man across from her could hear it.

Harlow set his drink down and leaned across the table. Dory felt herself shrink back into her chair. He reached for her hand again. Swallowing hard, she steeled herself against the feel of his clammy hands on her. His flat white skin repelled her. Still, she didn’t withdraw her hand. “We’re both mature, consenting adults,” she heard him say. “Don’t play games with me. The only time I play games is in the bedroom. How good are
you
at games?”

“I manage,” Dory said in a strangled voice. This couldn’t be happening to her. She couldn’t be sitting here, listening to this man threaten her integrity. She couldn’t be letting him hold her hand. For what? For what, for God’s sake? For a job? Was she actually compromising herself to this miserable excuse for a man? She had to do something, say something, get out of this somehow. “There are other jobs.”

“Of course there are, my dear. This is New York. I think it’s safe to say I know every editor-in-chief on every magazine in the city. I’m sure you could
apply
at any one of the magazines.”

There it was, out in the open. She knew exactly what the words meant. If she didn’t play ball, his way, she was out of a job and she wouldn’t find it easy to get another one, not if he knew every editor-in-chief in the city. She could feel the bile rising in her throat. She withdrew her hand from his grasp and brought the glass to her lips. She gulped the sour drink and finished it in two swallows. She had to get out of here, back to her apartment. She would never come back to this sleazy city, with all its sleazebags like David Harlow. Griff. Think about Griff and a new life. She didn’t have to sit here and listen to this weasel with his slick words and heavy threats. All she had to do was get up and walk out. Tell him to go to hell, drop dead, who did he think he was talking to anyway? This was sexual harassment at its worst. But if she did that, there would be gossip. Shameful things would be said. People would look at her and snicker. They’d talk about her behind her back. They’d say things and believe them, terrible, degrading things. Who would hire her with something like that hanging over her head? She had to do something, say something, get through this somehow.

“I’d like to order now. I have an early day tomorrow.” After dinner she would make a graceful exit.

David Harlow leaned back in his chair and opened his menu. A smile played around his mouth. They were all alike. The woman hadn’t been born who wouldn’t climb in bed for the promise of money and some semblance of power. Words like
threat, coercion,
were not in David Harlow’s vocabulary. This one was an easy piece. He wished he had noticed her earlier.

“May I suggest the lobster . . .”

 

Griff slid behind the wheel of the clinic van and stared at the ashtray full of plum pits. He grimaced. John’s wife might look as if she’d stepped off a
Vogue
magazine cover, but she was the sloppiest woman he had ever come across. Tissues littered the floor and the stale scent of her perfume was embedded in the velour seat covers. He hated it. God damn, the van was for clinic use, not for Sylvia to joyride around in. That Sylvia might consider him to be joyriding didn’t enter his mind. He was picking up Dory at the airport and then they were going apartment hunting. There was a difference.

There were times when he felt boxed in, almost trapped. For the past several days the feeling had grown stronger and stronger, making him uneasy and skittish. He had hungered for this chance for so long, had worked so hard toward this end that he didn’t understand his discomfort. It must be the practice. Surely it had nothing to do with Dory. Or did it? He loved her. God, how he loved her. Maybe it was Dory he was really worried about and not himself. After all, it was Dory who was giving up her career. It was Dory who would have to make a new life for herself here in the D.C. fishbowl. Dory would be starting from scratch. He at least had a job, colleagues he liked and admired, and a purpose in life. Was he robbing Dory of the very things he was gaining? Was he being fair to her, to himself? Hell, Dory was a vibrant, go-for-it young woman with sophisticated savvy. Wherever she went she would take those traits with her. Dory was Dory and that was why he loved her. So why was he uneasy?

He liked New York, even loved it, but when opportunity knocked he had to respond. Everyone had to respond to a dream at one time or another. This move was a must if he was to get on with life and career. He knew in his gut that another opportunity like this wouldn’t come along again. The timing was perfect and Dory was part of the dream; she belonged in it. But was this what Dory really wanted? Was he being fair to her? She said he was, and he had to believe her. She said it was right, felt right. And, she had added, it was the perfect opportunity for her to finish her studies. In the end the decision had been hers.

Griff sighed. If all this was true, then why did he feel so anxious? Why was he so skittish? What was really bothering him?

The mere fact that anything at all was bothering him made him mad as hell. He hated it when he couldn’t solve problems, come up with the right answer and get on with things. He was never one to sit and ponder. Either the dream was right or it wasn’t. He loved Dory and Dory loved him. The practice was a golden opportunity, a step onward and upward for his career. He was happy with his decision to move here. If it was possible to be delirious with joy that Dory was moving here with him, then he was delirious with joy. So what was the problem?

The lack of commitment on Dory’s part, perhaps? Her decision not to get married at this time? That’s what it was. It was too loose. Not exactly temporary, just loose. When things were loose they could go either way. Marriage was a big step, an awesome responsibility. Perhaps Dory was right in not wanting to take such a step yet. Giving up her job, moving to a strange place, going back to school were probably all the decisions she could comfortably handle right now. He should understand it and he did understand it. He just didn’t like it. He wanted to marry Dory. He wanted her to be the mother of his children. She wanted those same things, but she didn’t want them right now. He was going to have to accept that because he loved her. He felt better now that he had put words to his feelings. The bottom line to his edginess was the lack of commitment. He could and would live with it. He had no other choice.

Christ, he was tired. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until he saw Dory step off the plane from New York. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and fall asleep against her softness. No thought of sex entered his mind. The clean fragrance of her was a balm to his senses. They kissed, a long, hungry kiss that made his head reel, oblivious to the stares and smiles of the other travelers. National Airport was a great place for kissing.

“Don’t tell me the smell in this van is from some poodle, because I’d never believe it,” Dory teased.

“John’s wife was using it till their car was fixed. Needed new shock absorbers or something. She isn’t the neatest person, as you’ll find out. I didn’t think you’d want to stay with them so I took a room at the Airport Holiday Inn. What’s your feeling on orange bedspreads and drapes? You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind? I adore the color orange. I love motels, if you go with them. Tell me, what prospects do you have lined up for us to see? Griff, you look tired. Are you sure you want to bother with apartment hunting today? I’ll go alone and only bring you to the most likely ones.”

“I am tired, but I’ll be all right. We’re going to look together and that’s settled. Sylvia and Lily really knocked themselves out lining up apartments. I hope one of them pans out. By the way, we’re having dinner with the four of them. I wanted you all to myself, but the sooner you meet them the better we’re all going to be. The girls are dying to meet you.”

Dory felt a little annoyed. What if she didn’t like “the girls”? How would Griff react? How like a man to assume that just because he and John and Rick got on so well, she would get on equally well with their wives. She was tempted to put her annoyance into words but changed her mind. Griff had made it clear that he liked the two women. He would never understand if she didn’t, so it was grin and bear it. She was probably worrying about nothing. Griff didn’t include any undesirables among his friends. If Griff liked them, so would she. Think positive, she told herself.

“Hungry?” Griff asked.

“No. They served a bagel with cream cheese on the plane along with a copy of the
Wall Street Journal.
How about you?”

“I had some coffee and toast. We’ll have an early lunch. I thought we’d start on the Virginia side and work toward D.C. I’d like to avoid the city if possible. Traffic in the morning is a bitch. First stop Arlington.”

They spent the morning looking at cramped apartments with no closet space and outrageous rental fees. Dory vetoed all of them. The last apartment building was a complete disaster. Two of the three elevators had
OUT OF ORDER
signs on them with messages tacked below in green crayon, making it clear what the tenants thought. The lobby tile was grimy and artificial plants were heavy with dust, making Dory sneeze. The rent for a studio was thirteen hundred dollars and a bargain, the manageress said in a squeaky voice. She reeked of stale beer and garlic.

“We’ll let you know,” Griff said hurriedly, as he ushered Dory past a loathsome rubber plant and out a smeared glass doorway.

They both inhaled deeply and Dory laughed. “Griff, the main road we were on before we got to the second apartment, what was it called?”