No More Lonely Nights (58 page)

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Authors: Nicole McGehee

Tags: #Macomber, #Georgetown, #Amanda Quick, #love, #nora roberts, #campaign, #Egypt, #divorce, #Downton, #Maeve Binchy, #French, #Danielle Steel, #Romance, #new orleans, #Adultery, #Arranged Marriage, #washington dc, #Politics, #senator, #event planning, #Barbara Taylor Bradford

BOOK: No More Lonely Nights
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“What about a bank? You’re certainly familiar with those,” Dominique teased.

“As what? A teller? Again on my feet all day. I have corns.”

Dominique threw up her free hand in resignation. “You find fault with every suggestion!”

“I’m realistic,” Danielle said primly. For a few moments, the sisters didn’t speak, then Danielle asked, “Anyway, what about you? How’s your job?”

Dominique smiled resignedly. “It would be wonderful if it weren’t for Sylvia Brussels. I think she’s trying to drive me crazy so I’ll quit.” She hesitated. “You know, Mark tried to talk me into starting my own business.”

“You told him about Sylvia, I gather.” Danielle said the woman’s name in a flat tone.

Dominique sighed and pushed herself off the counter. “I’m afraid so.” She went to the coffeepot and poured herself a fresh cup. The comforting steam wafted up to her as she took a sip. She put the cup down on the kitchen table, then sat down before she continued. “Actually, what he said made sense, except that I would have to borrow money to do it.”

“What do you need money for? Can’t you just work out of your house?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” Dominique admitted. “But, in my business, image is important. I need an office and an assistant, at least.”

“How much would that cost?”

“There’s a building over on Wisconsin Avenue that has five hundred square feet for lease—two good-sized offices. I stopped by on my way home from work Thursday. It’s a pretty building, newly renovated. A law firm just bought it and the space is connected to theirs. So that means that my clients would come in through their reception area, which is nice. Brass and mahogany—you know, the men’s-club look. Right behind the receptionist’s desk, there’s a circular staircase that leads up to the law library. The place reminds me of Henry Higgins’ study in
My Fair Lady.”

“I love that!” Danielle exclaimed.

“Also, they’d let me use their copying equipment for a small fee. But, of course, I’d have my own phone lines and a plaque with my company’s name outside the building. The managing partner said he would let me have it for five hundred dollars a month.”

“Heavens! You’re seriously considering this, aren’t you?”

“You sound skeptical. You think it’s a bad idea?”

“I… I don’t know. You’ve only thought about this for a couple of days. You should be careful. You don’t want to rush into something you’ll regret.”

Dominique began, “If you never take a chance—”

Danielle interrupted her with laughter. “I know, I know how you are.” She paused. “But where would you get the money?”

“I have that money from the sale of the house and things. I even sold my jewelry and furs, though I didn’t get nearly what they were worth. Anyhow, that would be a start. And I thought I’d try to borrow—”

Danielle interrupted her again. “But those are your life’s savings!”

Dominique sighed. “That’s what makes me hesitate. In any case, it isn’t nearly enough.” She stared out the window. A squirrel was making its way up the side of the old willow oak. Dominique absently fixed her gaze on it.

“Then you’re at a dead end, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Dominique fretfully wound the phone cord around her finger. “But I thought I’d at least talk to my bank.”

“I wouldn’t hold out too much hope,” Danielle said. “Banks are only willing to take risks on known quantities.”

Dominique was surprised at how much the words distressed her. She hadn’t realized how much she was beginning to count on the idea of owning her own business. “All I can do is try.”

Danielle brought up another problem. “Where would you get clients?”

“I thought about that. I called Michelle de la Croix at the French embassy yesterday.… I think I told you that we’ve developed a nice working relationship.”

“You’re moving so fast! I thought this was just an idea. Don’t be too impulsive, Dominique. Be careful!”

“I prefer to think of myself as decisive and efficient,” Dominique joked with mock hauteur. Then, more seriously, she said, “Anyhow, I have to research this, don’t I? How can I make a decision without an idea of my potential income and expenditures? There’s nothing to be learned from mulling over a theory. And, once I decided to look into this, why delay?”

“Okay, okay, I see your point,” Danielle admitted. “So what did Michelle say?”

“Well, she has no contract with Mrs. Filmore, because the embassy staff handles most events. But the French president is coming for a state visit in five months and she was going to hire us for some of the out-of-embassy events just because I’m French.” Dominique lowered her voice. “She was actually glad I might leave. She likes Mrs. Filmore, but she can’t stand Sylvia Brussels. And Sylvia’s the one she has to deal with on contracts.” Dominique took a deep breath. “So I’d have that job to begin. It’s not a steady contract, but…” Her words faded.

“Would that bring in enough to support you for the first six months?” Danielle’s tone betrayed her doubt.

Dominique was silent a moment. “It wouldn’t leave much cushion,” she confessed. “But if I had a client like that, I know I’d get others. In the embassy community, Michelle is a trendsetter.” Dominique had an answer for every argument of Danielle’s. The concept that had begun to form just three days before was becoming an entrenched idea. “Mark said that I could stay busy if I did nothing but organize political dinners, like I used to do for him. Members of Congress are always doing fund-raising events. And Mark has a lot of influence in Washington, so I know that if he recommends me, I’ll get work. After that, it’s up to me to prove myself.”

“But aren’t you scared to start this with only one client? And not even a long-term contract, but an
assignment?”
Danielle asked incredulously. “It sounds crazy to me!”

“How can I sign up clients when I’m still with Mrs. Filmore?” Dominique’s words spilled out with urgency. “I have two very powerful people on my side. And in Washington, it’s all
who
you know. If I can just get started, I know I’ll do a good job and the whole thing will take off!”

There was a long silence as Dominique waited for Danielle to react. Finally Danielle said, “Well, if anyone can make it work, you can.”

Dominique loosened her grip on the receiver. Until that moment, she hadn’t known she was clutching it so tightly. “Thanks for saying so…” she said softly. But Dominique wanted more from Danielle. She wanted her sister to be as excited as she was. She wanted an unqualified vote of confidence.

Again there was a lull in the conversation. It was clear that Danielle’s misgivings prevented her from offering stronger encouragement.

Dominique was disappointed and a little hurt. “Well…” Her voice was downcast. “I’ll go and get Mother for you. Don’t say anything to her about this yet.”

“Okay,” Danielle said. “Bye.”

As Dominique started to put the phone down, she heard her sister’s voice calling to her. She quickly brought the receiver back to her ear. “Yes?” she said.

“Dominique… I just wanted to tell you… I admire you for doing this…” She paused, as though she had something difficult to say.

Dominique waited in silence for her sister to continue.

Danielle drew in her breath. “I wish I had your courage,” she said wistfully.

The first day of spring bloomed warm and sweetly scented. Washington’s parks were transformed into fields of daffodils. Saucer magnolia and cherry trees were poised to burst into flower, their buds already decorating the branches with an impressionistic haze of pink.

Dominique emerged from her house with a jacket slung over her shoulders. A few steps down her walk, she stopped, surprised by the morning’s bright warmth. How glorious! Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. There was a dewy freshness in the air that made her feel as though she were awakening from a long winter hibernation. With a carefree laugh, she turned back to the house and unlocked the door. From the threshold, she leaned in and tossed her jacket on the sofa, then pulled the door closed again.

The temperature was even warmer when she passed through her wooden gate into the street. There, the leaves from overhanging trees were less dense and the sunlight splashed over the sidewalk.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Dominique spun around. “Mark!” she cried, “what are you doing here?” Never, in the month they’d been dating, had he dropped in unexpectedly.

He leaned on one shoulder against the brick wall that surrounded her house. “Playing hooky,” he replied with a grin.

For the first time, it registered that he wasn’t wearing a suit, but rather blue jeans and a plaid shirt that brought out the limpid green of his eyes. He was so brimming with masculine appeal that Dominique was, for a moment, held rapt. “Well”—she blinked, hardly knowing what to say—“it’s nice to see you.”

He drew close to her and put a finger under her chin. “You want to play hooky with me?”

Dominique made a sound that was half laugh, half gasp. “I can’t possibly.” She put her hands to her chest, as though her working clothes proved her statement.

Mark looked disappointed. He took her hand and said, “Come on. The office will survive one day without you.” Seeing her about to protest, he continued, “Call in sick.”

Dominique shook her head quickly. “I don’t like to lie. Besides, I have a million things to do.” She hadn’t told Mark that she was seriously pursuing the idea of starting her own business. That each lunch hour was spent either visiting banks or—when they turned her down for a loan—revising her business plan. She knew if she brought up the subject with Mark, he would try to talk her into accepting his money. So she kept quiet.

Mark crossed his arms. “You can work tomorrow.” He smiled and the dimple at the side of his mouth creased irresistibly. “It’s too beautiful today.” He leaned close to Dominique and said in a low, persuasive voice, “Stop arguing and go change.”

It was a delicious idea. Simply skip work. Enjoy the wonderful spring day. Dominique often worked late and on weekends, and not once had she called in sick. Maybe one day off wouldn’t hurt. Her eyes danced with excitement as she asked, “What do you have in mind?”

Mark gave her a mischievous look. “It’s a surprise. Wear jeans.”

“All right!” She turned to go into the house, then turned back. “Do you mind waiting in your car? I’d feel a little uncomfortable if Mother knew.…”

Mark began to back toward a mud-spattered black Jeep. Where was his MG? “It’ll be our secret,” he said in a stage whisper.

After she had called the office and changed, Dominique stealthily escaped the house and ran down the walk like a young girl, almost giggling with the joy of her naughtiness. Mark was double-parked outside the gate and he had taken off the Jeep’s rag top. Dominique hopped into the passenger seat. “That’s a great idea!” she enthused. “It’s actually hot today.”

Mark turned toward her as she got in. He caught his breath. A halo of sunshine outlined her strong profile, set off by her tight ponytail. Her features had an aspect of nobility, despite the simplicity of her blue jeans and cotton shirt. Mark smiled and said softly, “You look so beautiful that way.”

The expression in Mark’s eyes made Dominique’s heart stand still, All at once, she was excruciatingly aware of his nearness. She had the urge to reach out and caress his cheek. And then to kiss him. What would it be like?

In the half dozen times they’d been out, she had avoided any displays of intimacy, and on two occasions their “dates” had been family outings with Solange and Gabrielle. There had been hand-holding and light kisses on the cheek. But Mark had clearly sensed that she wasn’t ready for more. And he had expressed no sign of impatience. Never had he attempted contact Dominique did not want. But now, suddenly, she wanted it. She could feel her color rising as she thought about it. Embarrassed, she turned to look out the window.

With a furtive smile, Mark withdrew his arm from the back of her seat and started the car.

Dominique remained silent as he drove, spellbound by the sudden change in the mood between them. Mark’s admiring expression a few minutes before seemed significant, like a snapshot in a photo album. Dominique couldn’t put it out of her mind. She felt expectant, tense in a way that made her senses come alive. She commanded herself to relax. Better not to spoil things by overanalyzing them. Why not simply enjoy the beautiful day? It was nice to let herself be driven to an unknown destination, to be free of decisions.

In a few minutes, they were crossing Key Bridge, with its double row of old-fashioned light posts. “Welcome to Virginia,” said the sign at the end of the thoroughfare. Mark steered the car onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway. The road looked like it was cut from the forest. Dominique gazed through the thin spring foliage at the Potomac River. It moved lazily over jutting boulders, its surface reflecting the blue of the sky.

They had not gone far when Mark took an exit that led to a parking area.

“Teddy Roosevelt Island!” Dominique cried with pleasure. “I’ve been meaning to come here with Mother and Gabrielle, but I never got around to it.” A national park, the miniature island was little more than a stand of unspoiled woods in the middle of the Potomac River. It was reached from the parking area by a wooden bridge.

Mark turned off the engine and came to Dominique’s side, holding open the door for her. She took his hand and got out.

“I have to get something from the trunk,” Mark said. Dominique followed him and watched as he brought out a picnic cooler and blanket.

“A picnic!” She smiled with delight. “It’s been years since I’ve been on one.”

Mark grinned at her reaction. “Aren’t you glad you came?” he asked.

“Very,” Dominique said as she took the blanket from him. So absorbed was she in their preparations that she forgot her earlier tension.

They crossed the wooden bridge in comfortable silence, the only noise the thudding of their sneakers on the planks. At the end there was a path covered in dried leaves.

“There’s no one here.” Dominique’s voice was subdued, as in a museum.

“Except on weekends, it’s pretty quiet,” Mark said as he took the fork to the right. “I come here sometimes to fish.”

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