Chapter Eight

She finished the drawings for her ex-new-family, although she wouldn’t be having Christmas with them. Neither would she be going home. She would lock herself in the closet with a fig pudding—or something. Although she had expected little enough of Richard, she hadn’t expected that degree of little. She hadn’t expected the depth of his lack of character. The villain. She would go to St. John’s Christmas Eve and pray for him. He sure needed it.

Laura tried to think of someone she could tell the story to. Lillian. That was it. Lillian had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

Laura and Lillian had Thanksgiving at Lillian’s parents over the bridge in Fort Lee. On the bus ride home, Laura related the tale to her. “Great,” said her supposed friend. “Marry him. What have you really got to lose, my dear?”

“Oh, Lillian, you can’t be serious.”

“Yes,” insisted Lillian. “I am.”

“You wouldn’t do it though, would you?” Laura asked, incredulous.

“Oh, it’s an adventure,” Lillian said musing. “You can always get divorced. No-fault, of course, since you’re so honest. Or is no-fault just traffic accidents?”

Richard called to invite her to see The Nutcracker at the New York City Ballet. Naturally she had to see The Nutcracker, or it wouldn’t be the holidays. She told him that Christmas was off and so was the entire arrangement, but if he still wanted to go to the ballet, she would accompany him because she wanted to see the company dance.

He asked Laura to reconsider Christmas, but said that he entirely understood about the rest of it and he was sorry that their arrangement hadn’t worked out as he had planned. Also, if she had lost the two earlier checks, he would make this check out to include the previous amounts. “Fine,” she said.

The Wednesday after Thanksgiving, she ran into Dante as she was leaving the Studio and he practically ordered her to invite him over to watch a program on Nureyev on cable. She did so. They didn’t speak much, except about how wonderful Nureyev had been, and about the Russian tradition in ballet, but their failure to develop in modern dance. Then they talked about what modern dance was.

Dante invited her to see Alvin Alley with him, and since she was enjoying his company at the moment, she accepted. He had tickets for the New Year’s Eve performance, he told her. She agreed all the same.

The Friday before Christmas, Richard came to her apartment for dinner before they went to the ballet. Laura broiled some salmon filets and steamed some veggies. She served a plum wine with that, along with salad, a hearty brown bread, homemade applesauce, and ice cream. She felt very uncomfortable with him, and entirely uncertain about the dinner.

He complimented her cooking after the meal. “I didn’t do much actual cooking you see,” she responded, as she served coffee. “Fish and vegetables are both very easy. Applesauce just does itself.”

Richard was amused. “Elise never cooks for me,” he said. “Once she made hamburgers. They burned.” Laura shuddered.

He helped her put her coat on. Laura trembled. “How is Elise, anyway?” she asked him.

“She’s making a fortune, I guess,” he told her. “She works all the time. I see her face just about everywhere.”

“Yes,” Laura acknowledged. “I even sketched her face this week since I was mocking up her Madame Trovee ad. Her eyes are exceptionally large. Remarkable. I presume you’ve noticed.”

“Not really. Are they?”

“Yes,” said Laura. “Quite unusual.”

Richard took her arm once or twice, helping her in and out of the taxi, for instance. Once he put his arm around her, purely demonstrating simple affection. He removed it almost immediately.

Yes, she could see a struggle going on in him. He was tempted to forget himself, to treat her in a more familiar manner, as he might Elise. But she wasn’t Elise, and he didn’t forget himself. His behavior toward her remained perfectly correct.

Laura believed that he had asked her out only to convince her to carry on with his scheme. But on that point at least, she was thoroughly resolved. Although a battle was going on in her as well. She enjoyed Richard, and apart from his attempt to deceive and cheat his grandfather (apart from that!), she respected him. She liked him and she wanted to do whatever would please him. But in this matter she wasn’t going to indulge him.

The Nutcracker was, marvelously enough, The Nutcracker. She had seen performances of it every Christmas that she could remember, even at home when she was a child. Richard said that he enjoyed it too, that he liked dance. Laura supposed that he meant ballet exclusively, and didn’t include modern dance in that evaluation.

During intermission Laura told him something about her own beginning in dance. She had started dancing merely as a diversion, but dance had soon grown into a single-minded passion. She loved ballet, but could never hope to be a ballerina. Only the little girls they saw dancing tonight might have such dreams.

After the ballet, they went across to Ed’s Chowder House. Maxwell showed up, looked straight at Laura, and snubbed her. Laura was relieved.

Richard insisted on seeing Laura home. When he did, she asked him to come upstairs with her. He sat for a few minutes and finished the wine—even though she had left it out and it had become warm. Then he stood up to leave.

Laura brought out the Christmas presents for him and his family. She had bought him a large, rather pricey book of El Greco paintings. She craved it for herself, and she was glad that her present represented a sacrifice. “Don’t you want to unwrap it?” she asked as he sat there tapping his finger on the gold paper hiding the book from view.

“Aren’t you coming for Christmas Eve at least?” he countered. “After Christmas, we’ll tell them, but doing it now would be cruel. Everyone has presents for you already. The kids, too.”

She caved in to his argument. “But afterward, we must tell them.”

“Yes.” Cheered, he made a great pretense of shaking his present. “It’s a box.”

“It’s a paint-by-numbers set.”

He put on his coat. “We’ll stay through to Monday, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“You don’t have a date, do you?” He looked concerned.

“It’s all right,” she said nonchalantly. She didn’t want him to imagine that she’d planned to go with him all along and hadn’t made any other arrangements.

“Good-night.” He touched her shoulder briefly and then left. He didn’t take the presents with him.

Then the day they drove up, it snowed. Richard’s windshield wipers weren’t working right, and they had to keep stopping. The heater, too, wasn’t working well. “How’s Dante, by the way?” he asked her.

“Dancing a lot. He’s going to be another Nureyev,” she replied cagily.

Richard was agreeable. “Yes, he has that look.”

“What do you mean?” Was he being sarcastic or something?

“He looks like a Russian, I guess.” He shrugged.

“He is.”

“With a name like Dante?’

“Don’t be silly. His name isn’t Dante. He chose the name Dante. Anyway, his parents are Russian Jews. Not really them, of course, but their parents were. Not Russian, maybe, but Lithuanian.” Actually, Maxwell had told her that for no reason whatsoever at Rene’s; she had thought it a lie.

“Then he doesn’t mind so much your missing Christmas with him,” he observed. He wiped at the window though that didn’t do much good.

“He doesn’t mind at all,” Laura confirmed. “But certainly Elise must mind missing Christmas with you?”

“She’s in Vermont.” He adjusted the mirror.

“She doesn’t think it strange not to be invited to your parents?” She herself would find such an omission very odd.

“She wanted to skiing in Vermont with her friends.” He pulled the car off the road and jumped out, letting a blast of cold air in before he shut the door for her. This is crazy, she told herself. What was going on here?

They drove straight to his parents’ house and Laura was shown to Milly’s old room rather than a guest room, to indicate that she was a daughter, not a guest, she supposed. Seeing Richard’s parents, Laura was suddenly glad that she had come. This was the Christmas she had wanted, after all.

Milly, George, and the kids arrived after dinner. The family custom, different from what Laura was used to, was to open the presents on Christmas Eve. George made three trips to the car to bring in all the packages.

Laura and Richard drove over in his father’s car to pick up Mr. Turner. Grandfather Turner had a few small packages with him, which Richard took charge of. Laura watched carefully. Richard seemed genuinely fond of his grandfather. Laura sat in the backseat to give Mr. Turner the seat of honor up front.

All the packages went under the tree, including those that Laura and Richard had brought. The tree was decorated with colored lights and a star on top. The lights were turned on. A display of lights shined outward from the front windows.

Mr. Decter put on a tape of Christmas music and brought his father-in-law and Laura each a sherry, handing a scotch to his son and one to his son-in-law. Milly asked for a bourbon and water. The kids asked them all to please hurry up.

The children opened their presents first. Then they all took turns opening one gift at a time. Laura was terrified that her presents for each of them wouldn’t be good enough.

Mr. Turner opened his daughter’s present first. She had knitted him a beautiful thick sweater, which he praised and praised, beaming with pleasure, which made Mrs. Decter smile too. Then she in turn opened her husband’s gift to her, diamond earrings that made Laura gasp, but which didn’t surprise Mrs. Decter in the least since she had picked exactly that out at Cartier’s.

Very obviously, Laura was supposed to open Richard’s present, though she wanted to see what the kids had gotten her. She pretended to not be nervous or embarrassed but they all laughed at her for being so anyway. The package was small and she unwrapped it carefully. She hoped it was a drawing pen.

He had given her a pair of antique gold earrings. She was outraged, but pretended to be pleased. Laura pretended even harder when she learned that they’d belonged to his grandmother and were intended for his wife. She was furious.

She was supposed to go over and kiss him, she knew. Richard was looking away from her. “Thank you, Richard,” she said sharply, not standing up. The others knew that something was amiss, but took it to be a further sign of her shyness. Richard barely glanced at her, and mumbled. His father slapped him on the back to cover the awkwardness.

Richard opened his book from her. That seemed to throw him into further confusion. He was pleased at the book, but obviously (to her) hadn’t wanted her to get him something so expensive. His face turned quite red and the whole family was becoming uneasy—the kids as well.

Mr. Turner opened Laura’s present next, rather than Richard’s. It was a drawing, framed, of him and his daughter, giggling, as she had seen them once, over a family joke. They all liked it—Richard too.

The Decters opened a picture of themselves in which they were raptly watching a forward pass. Laura had feared that they might feel slightly insulted, but they were delighted by her accurate rendering. Laura received an antique gold necklace from Mr. Turner—the filigree matching exactly the earrings from Richard. She stood up and went and kissed him. George and Milly loved Laura’s sketch of themselves and the kids.

Milly and Richard received checks from their grandfather. Sizeable checks, Laura could tell. The gifts from the children—a silk rose from Tricia and a set of drawing pencils from Mark—were all that Laura decided she might keep, though she wistfully debated the necklace.

A few friends and neighbors had been invited over and soon began to arrive. The children were sent upstairs after an hour and dance music was put on in the den. The bar was opened. Laura drew Richard aside.

“That wasn’t very nice about the earrings,” she said.

“I was afraid you might feel that way, but I wanted you to have them. Elise would never wear anything like that, and they’ll look wonderful on you.”

She gave him a poisonous look, shaking her head. Mr. Decter passed by with extra soda bottles. “Go and dance,” he insisted.

Richard brought her into the den where Frank Sinatra was longing for his woman again. Richard took Laura into his arms to dance with her. He didn’t hold her very close, but she began to tremble anyway. She didn’t pull away nor did she pull closer. Richard’s face became flushed and his eyes clouded over.

After a moment, they stopped dancing, by mutual, unspoken consent. They sat on the sofa and Richard introduced Laura to the people among whom he had grown up when they peeked into the room. Eventually, they found themselves alone again. “Thank you for the book. It was too much, really,” Richard said.

This was all quite unbearable to her, yet, in a way, agonizingly delicious. She was glad that she had come with him, yet sorry. “You’re very welcome,” she replied.

“Please do keep the earrings,” he requested. She didn’t answer, so they simply sat there. They gazed at one another as long as they dared, then watched the dancers across the hall. Laura soon rose and went upstairs.

She walked around Milly’s childhood bedroom, took a doll of Milly’s into her arms, and went to the window. She looked out, seeing distant snow-covered hills, trees dreaming of blooming, a ladylike sliver of moon, and costly cars parked along the long driveway.

Loving Richard would be a very simple and complete thing for her to do. She didn’t refuse to do it. And she didn’t insist on it either. She was filled with the possibility of it now, but she didn’t have to keep it with her always. It made her momentarily joyful, although such a love never had to come to fruition.

She danced, though she didn’t have the space to do so, and though no choreographer told her what steps she might attempt. She danced as she once thought she might with Dante. She danced alone, but the dance was for Richard. Richard might never know she had danced for him.

In a while, she heard a gentle tap at the door. Laura stopped dancing. “Come in,” she said. She took the doll into her arms again.

It was Richard’s mother. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” she told Laura. “Is everything all right?”

“Perfectly,” Laura answered. “You’re not interrupting at all.”

“I mean is everything all right between you and Richard?” Mrs. Decter smiled in apology for asking.

“Yes, I think so,” replied Laura. “I came upstairs to be quiet for a while.”

“Yes, my dear, I understand, but something doesn’t seem quite right, you know. Allow me to say that. We’ve all become very fond of you. I can’t tell you how much. And we’re so especially delighted for Richard. He’s had other girlfriends before, of course, but none who seemed so well-suited to him. He’s not a quiet boy, but he can be sensitive. I do hope things are going well. I would be sorry if they weren’t.”

“Actually, Mrs. Decter…” Laura began. Richard appeared in the doorway, and she halted. Everything in her turned over to see him in front of her.

“What’s going on here?” he wanted to know.

“I was telling Laura how happy she’s made us by making you happy,” his mother said.

“Ah, yes, well,” said Richard. “You see…”

“You see, Mrs. Decter,” continued Laura, “I will probably be moving away from New York very soon.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Richard agreed.

Mrs. Decter looked at both of them in a gently penetrating fashion. “I see,” she said presently. “Well, dear, we shall all miss you so very much.” She turned and hurried away downstairs.

“Your mother is quite a wonderful person,” commented Laura. “I do admire her.”

“Yes.” He began to enter the room, but hesitated. “May I come in?”

“Certainly.” She stepped back as if to give him room, although she wasn’t in his way whatsoever.

He glanced around. “Milly used to have a bulletin board,” he told her. “She put up newspaper clippings of the football players she was in love with. She went out with one or two of them, I guess, But not for very long. She lived at home and went to college in Westchester. George isn’t a bad guy, do you think? She quit school to marry him.”

“They seem happy,” Laura observed.

“I suppose so. I know that Milly would have liked a little different life. One more like Mother’s is. But she makes the best of what she has and loves the kids. She’s fond of George.” He surveyed the room as if he could find the explanation there of what had gone wrong in Milly’s life.

“Money again, is that it?” Laura asked bitterly.

“No, not money. The obstacle was the way Milly was brought up. They brought her up the best they could, but they didn’t bring her up to be independent, to live for herself. She had to have a husband and family. There was nothing else for her. I wonder if you can understand that sort of thing. You’re so different from that.” He looked at her and came a step closer. He took the doll from her hands.

“I wasn’t brought up any differently than Milly. Circumstances changed me, that’s all.” Richard was standing too close for comfort now, but it wasn’t her responsibility to protect Elise, was it? He wasn’t married to Elise, after all. Elise had no existence. Only Laura and Richard had.

Richard edged closer. “Laura, I…” He dropped the doll onto the bed. Neither looked at it. They looked at one another.

Milly’s voice came from the direction of the stairs. “Richard.” She peeked into the room, saw them. “Richard, your cell was downstairs and someone called for you.” She handed his phone to him. “Just call back.”

Richard nodded at Milly as if he couldn’t trust his voice, and left the room. “What’s going on?” demanded Milly. “Why aren’t the two of you downstairs? Are you having an argument? It’s probably Richard’s fault, whatever it is. It always is George’s. I swear by that, anyway. Keep him in line now so you don’t run into any trouble later on. I mean it, Laura. When the first glow is gone, it’s damned hard work.”

Laura smiled at Milly. “Richard’s better than most, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Since he’s my brother, I’ll have to go along with that. I can never remember him doing anything completely unforgivable, that’s true. But he has his stubborn side, like the rest of the Decters. And when he gets like that, he won’t budge an inch.” Milly made a face. She looked around her old room and picked up the doll. “Jenny!” She smoothed the brown hair.

Milly glanced up again at Laura. “Ah, but being so terribly much in love suits you. You ought to put your new jewelry on tonight. You and Mother did all right, didn’t you? With children it’s bread or baubles, not both. Well, bread is more edible. You won’t be in the same situation for a while, I guess. When are you two getting married?”

“Milly, you see,” Laura said gently, “Richard is in love with another woman.”

Milly was thoroughly aghast. “Laura! How can you say such a thing? How can you possibly begin even to imagine it? Not Richard! What possible reason could he have? No, no Laura. It’s inconceivable. Absolutely.”

“Yes,” Laura went on. “She called him from Vermont not five minutes ago. “That was his phone call.”

“No, Laura, you’re wrong. I answered the telephone. It was a client of his calling from New York about a Christmas Day delivery. All in an uproar. Laura, where could you have gotten such a mistaken idea? You’re imagining things.” Milly calmed down. “Why would he have given you the earrings then, if he was in love with another woman?” she asked sensibly.

Laura sat on the bed. “It’s a long story, Milly, and not very easy to explain. Does the name Elise mean anything to you?”

“She was Richard’s girlfriend, once. Before he met you.” Milly sat down beside her.

“No, not before. But also after and during. She’s Richard’s girlfriend now, in fact. I’m nothing to Richard. I’m only a friend. Richard and I made a mistake. He knew his grandfather didn’t like Elise. So he brought me along to play a part.” Laura had expected to feel relieved once she told Milly her story, but she didn’t feel any better at this point. She was sorry to have spoiled the illusion for all of them, herself included.

“I don’t believe it,” responded Milly tensely. “I certainly don’t believe it of Richard and I have no desire to believe such a thing of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Laura told her.

Milly took Laura’s hand in her own and gripped it tightly. “Don’t repeat a word of this to anyone else,” Milly begged.

Richard’s quiet “why not?” took them both by surprise. He had slipped back into the room while they had been talking.

Milly released Laura’s hand and turned to her brother. “Is this true—what Laura just told me?” she wanted to know.

“I didn’t hear what Laura told you exactly, but I’m sure it was the truth,” he said dully.

“That your bringing Laura up here has all been a hoax?” Milly’s angry eyes accused him.

“Yes, it was all a lie,” he verified.

“Oh, Richard, you are a bigger dummy than I ever could have believed. All you had to do was ask Dad for money if money is what you want. You don’t think George and I live off George’s salary, do you? The money was always there for you. You know that.” Milly shook her head at him.

“I didn’t want it from Dad. I wanted it from my grandfather,” Richard insisted stubbornly. “Because my grandfather will give it to me without the lecture. Because he approves of me and of what I’m doing.”

“Oh, Richard, can’t you forgive Daddy for being himself? It’s because he loves you that he’d rather see you make something of yourself in business.” Her statement sounded as though Milly felt that way too.

“I hate business,” Richard hissed. “God do I hate doing business.”

“All right,” said Milly, “all right! But why in the world did you have to involve Laura?”

“Oh, no, it’s my fault, too,” Laura quickly protested.

“I don’t know any more why I had to involve Laura, and I’m sorry about that.” Richard hung his head. “When this party is over… maybe after tomorrow, I’ll tell the whole story to everyone. I’m sorry about it all. I’m sorry, Laura. My little scheme wasn’t fair to you.”

“No, no,” Laura mumbled vaguely.

“You won’t tell the story to anyone else, not even a particle of it.” Milly’s dark eyes snapped at both of them. “Everything is perfectly fine between the two of you. Get it? Because now that you’ve done it, it can’t be undone. You might as well go ahead with your engagement.” Milly spat the last of her pronouncements out between clenched teeth. “Because my grandfather is dying, damn it, Richard. And he’s not going to die knowing what you’ve done.”