“I hate to admit it”—she laughed ruefully—“but I came out there myself. My parents go every year too. I haven't been since I came out. But it might be fun, with you. I wouldn't go otherwise.”
“Is that a yes?” he asked, smiling broadly at her. He was dying to go somewhere nice with her and show her off in a pretty dress. He loved seeing her at the center, but he still enjoyed formal events like that himself. It was fun dressing up once in a while, and the event was white tie.
“It's a yes,” she said, as they walked on. “When is it?” She had to buy a dress. She hadn't worn a ballgown in years, although she could have borrowed one from her mother, but didn't want to ask. They were the same size. She wanted to look beautiful for Charlie, and her mother's gowns would look too matronly on her.
“It's not for a few weeks. I'll look it up when I go to the office.” She nodded. Going to the deb ball with him was a big step for her, backward into her old life. But she also knew it was just a one-night oddity for her now, not a way of life. As a tourist, she could handle it, though she didn't want more of it than that. It was a compromise and gesture she was willing to make for him.
They fell silent as they continued to walk uptown toward her house, and then turned east on Ninety-first. They were both ice-cold by then. It felt like it might snow. When they got to her front door, she turned to him and smiled. She could invite him in since he now knew it was her house, and no longer believed she was renting a small studio in the back.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked him shyly as she looked for her key and finally found it, at the bottom of her bag, where it always was.
“Is that all right with you?” he asked cautiously, and she nodded. She wanted him to. It was getting dark by then. They had been together since lunchtime, and had had a long lunch. They had a lot of time to make up for now, and had admitted over lunch how much they had missed each other. He had missed talking to her, knowing what she did, and sharing the excitement and complications and daily details of his own life with her. He had gotten used to her sage advice and wise counsel in the month they'd been seeing each other, and had felt her absence sorely once she was gone, as she had his.
They walked into a small distinguished-looking vestibule as they walked into the house. It had an elegant black-and-white marble floor. There were two small sitting rooms on the ground floor, one of which led into a handsome garden, and one flight up the stairs was a beautiful living room with large comfortable upholstered chairs and couches, a fireplace, and English antiques that she had taken from one of her parents' houses with their permission. They had more in storage. The house was elegant but at the same time warm and cozy, as she was, distinguished but playful. There were objects everywhere that were meaningful to her, even artwork by the children at the center. It was a wonderful mélange of old and new, expensive or priceless objects that had been made by children, or unusual objects found somewhere on her travels. There was a big comfortable kitchen, and a small, formal dining room with dark red walls and English hunting prints that had been her grandfather's. Upstairs, she had a large sunny bedroom and a guest room. She used the top floor as a small at-home office. She gave him a tour of the office, and he was greatly impressed as they walked back downstairs to the kitchen.
“I never invite anyone over, for obvious reasons,” she said sadly. “I'd love to have people for dinner here sometime, but I just can't.” She was pretending to be poor, and leading a secret life. Charlie knew it had to be lonely for her, just as his life was, for different reasons. She still had parents, but didn't like the ones she had, and had never been close to them. They had been emotionally absent all her life. He had no one. By different routes, they had arrived at the same place.
She offered him hot chocolate in the cozy kitchen, and they sat at her kitchen table while it got dark outside. He mentioned again how much he hated the holidays and was dreading them, as he always did. She didn't ask him what his plans were, she thought it was too soon to ask. He had only that day walked back into her life. He offered to light a fire in the fireplace then, and they settled down on the couch in the main living room once it was lit, and talked for hours. Their lives scattered around them like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that they were slowly fitting together one by one, a piece of sky here, a tree there, a passing cloud, a house, a childhood trauma, a heartbreak, a favorite pet, how much he loved his sister, how devastated he had been when she died, how lonely she had been as a child. It all fit together seamlessly, better than either of them could have planned.
It was after eight o'clock when she finally offered to cook him dinner. And he politely offered to take her out. It had just started snowing, and they both agreed it was much cozier inside. In the end, they made pasta and omelettes, standing together at the stove, with French bread, cheese, and salad. By the time dinner was over, they were both laughing at funny stories she told, and he told her about exotic places he'd been on the boat. And as they walked back into the living room, he took her in his arms and kissed her, and then suddenly he laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” she asked, sounding slightly nervous.
“I was thinking about Halloween and your green face. You looked so funny.” It was the first time he had kissed her, and they both remembered it well. All hell had broken loose between them shortly after that.
“Not nearly as funny as you with your lion's tail sticking up straight behind you. The kids still talk about it. They loved it. They thought you were really cool, and it gave Gabby something to hang on to, while she followed you around.” They hadn't gone to the center that day, and Carole said she was going the next day. Charlie said he wanted to go with her. He had missed the kids, especially Gabby. “I told her you were away.” He nodded. He had missed all of it, but Carole most of all. And then, as he kissed her again, she looked into his eyes. There was something so gentle and peaceful there that she felt as though she'd come home. “Do you want to go upstairs?” she asked him gently, and he nodded. He didn't say anything to her as he followed her up the stairs to her bedroom, and then he stood looking at her for an endless moment.
“Are you all right?” He didn't want to push her. He remembered how reluctant she had been to date, and that had only been two months before. A lot had happened in the meantime, and his four-week absence had told her that she loved him. She was willing to take the chance. For her, it had been a long, long time.
She nodded in answer to his question, and they settled comfortably into her big bed, where she slept in the middle when she was alone. She lay next to him feeling as though they had been there before. Their lovemaking was comforting and joyous, passionate and cozy at the same time. It was precisely what they both wanted so much, intimacy much needed and equally shared. And as the snow fell outside her windows that night, it looked like a Christmas card, and lying in each other's arms was like a dream.
20
THE THANKSGIVING WEEKEND WAS EASY FOR GRAY and Sylvia. She went to the gallery on Saturday, and had errands to do. Gray went to his studio to paint, and on Sunday they sat in bed with The New York Times strewn around them, while he coached her on the crossword puzzle, and eventually they made love, and went back to sleep.