Read an Excerpt
It began to snow at dawn. By noon, Washington looked like a toy village in a
department store Christmas window, the people like tiny rosy-cheeked dolls
bundled in their winter clothes. The world was shrouded in white, clean and
silent. Only the roar of the low-flying planes groaning as they labored to
lift themselves through the heavy layer of gray snow clouds brought Lily the
message of a harsher reality.
She paid the taxi driver and moved quickly into the airport terminal, her
carryall slung over her shoulder. She kept her head down, looking neither
right nor left, heading directly toward the Southair gate. After the silence
of the snow-covered streets, the terminal was alive with sound.
She could not deny the anxiety that gnawed at her. This journey was a new
move, outside their accustomed pattern. She thought of Edward, and her
stomach knotted. What she dreaded most was being recognized by someone they
both knew. Not now. Not before she was ready. Their objective was to be in
control of their lives. Hadn't they managed successfully for more than a
year?
Through the crowds, near the numbered Southair gate, she saw Orson leaning
against a wall, the collar of his trench coat up, his wavy brown hair moist
with melting snow. Like her, he, too, seemed tense. Yet the sight of him
calmed her, quickening her heartbeat with anticipation. It had always been
that way. From the first moment, his effect on her had been powerful,
life-changing.
He did not move forward but stood waiting, gathering her into his arms when
she came close enough. He was a head taller, and the heavy coat, smelling of
damp as she nuzzled close against it, affirmed his great comforting
presence.
"God, I'm scared," she said, her voice muffled as he patted her woolen hat,
which was pulled to the eyebrow line over her dark deep-set eyes.
From the pocket of his trench coat he pulled out a single pink sweetheart
rose. She took it and smiled.
"Feel better?"
She nodded, inhaling the scent.
"We're delayed. Damned snow. About half an hour at the gate. Another half an
hour on the ground."
Picking up his suitcase, one of those compact leather ones guaranteed to fit
under the airline seat, he led her to the counter where he produced his
tickets for the clerk. They passed through the security check. In the
boarding lounge they found seats alone near the window wall, which looked
out on a mass of swirling snow. Outside, the Southair 737 was parked like a
hoary ghost at the mouth of the passenger chute.
"A few hundred feet up and it's nothing but sun and blue skies," he said.
She lay her head on his shoulder and felt the caress of his fingers against
her cheek. Reaching up, she stroked the back of his head.
"Four days alone. Imagine," she whispered, her eyes moistening with emotion.
"Days." For them, time was always a gift. They were used to measuring their
time together carefully-they had only the morning hours at the apartment,
their clandestine hideaway. Yet, Lily thought, wrapped in the safety of
Orson's arms, even time itself seemed enriched.
"And Edward?"
"He thinks I'll be in L.A. A round of fashion shows. I told him I hadn't
found a place to bunk. Besides, he's absorbed in work. They're all busy
jockeying for power when the session opens. He'll barely have time to think,
much less miss me." Edward was an Administrative Assistant to Congressman
Robert Holmes of Iowa, a man with a thirsty ego and soaring ambitions. No.
Edward would not be a problem. Poor Edward, she thought sadly. But how could
he possibly understand?
"Will he call the store?" Orson asked.
In his mind, she knew, he was the principal creator of scenarios. "No. He
rarely does."
"And will you call him?"
"I told him not to expect me to." She had been hesitant on that point but
did not expect it to be a problem. Besides, she wanted to strike the worry
from her mind. "Let's
not think of them. Not for four days." She sighed. "Can we try?"
"We can try. Unfortunately, it's inescapable."
"Where were you six years ago?" she asked.
"Married," he answered softly. "Safe."
"And now?"
"We'll have four days to talk it out," Orson said.
"I know."
Her stomach lurched as she projected the future. Poor Edward, she thought
again, helpless, innocent, so perfectly secure in their marriage.
"Viv thinks I'm on the Concorde to Paris."
"Won't that be trouble?" She looked up at him to search his face but could
find no trouble there.
"So we're in the clear," she said, relieved.
"For the moment." He sighed, surely thinking of what was impending, of what
they still had to go through, perhaps hurting others and themselves. Then,
inexplicably, he chuckled.
"What's funny?" she asked.
"On the flight we're Mr. and Mrs. Calvin Marlboro."
"Who?"
"At the ticket counter I saw these signs-Calvin Klein and Marlboro
cigarettes. Not very original, but I can't think of anything. Anything but
you."
"And I, you."
"Is it possible to love someone so completely?"
"Yes..." She paused. "Unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?" he asked, showing a mock pout.
"An error in timing but not in intensity." Lifting her face, she kissed him
on the tip of his nose.
"How do you feel?" he asked suddenly.
"Fine. It's too early yet."
Suddenly a voice blared over the speaker: "Fifteen minutes to boarding.
Sorry for the delay, folks."
"Good," Orson said. "If things go well, we can be having a cocktail on the
beach by five. You'll love the place. The unit looks out on the water."
