A Bridge to Love (11 page)

Kate
let the subject drop.

After
the boys retreated upstairs to do homework, Kate and Georgia settled in the
living room. “Maybe I'm telling them too much about our financial situation,”
Kate worried. “I don't want them to feel pressure to take jobs just because
they pay well.”

“Kate,
they are incredibly well-grounded children. And they know that if they have a
real problem, they can tell you. Let them deal with it themselves,” Georgia
said. “I think they like their new responsibilities.”

“Now
you're trying to make me feel better.”

“No,
I mean it. Let them stretch themselves a bit. They're ready for it.”

“I
hope you're right.”

“I'm
a lawyer so I'm always right, until proven wrong. But let's talk about your
other problems. Have you heard from Oliver?”

“Sort
of. I've gotten two phone messages from him. Fortunately, I was working so I
didn't have to talk with him. But I'll have to call him back soon.”

“Is
there any chance that you might reciprocate his feelings?”

“No,”
Kate said flatly. “It makes me sad, because I've lost a good friend and I need
all the friends I can find right now. But I can't count on him anymore.”

“You
can count on me,” Georgia said.

“That
thought keeps me sane,” Kate said, saluting her friend with her wineglass.

“Speaking
of men and friendship, I thought this might entertain you,” Georgia said,
getting up to pull two sheets of folded paper out of her suit jacket pocket.

Kate
flipped open the papers to a color photograph of Randall Johnson looking
straight at the camera. She had to stifle a gasp. “Where did you get this?” she
asked, glancing at Georgia to get away from those demanding eyes.

“By
a little illicit use of a database we have for doing background checks on
people we might be dealing with in court.”

The
photo was followed by a list of Randall's business holdings. “The man owns
everything except the Brooklyn Bridge,” Kate said scanning down the page. “And
that might be part of Johnson Real Estate, Limited.”

“He's
impressive,” Georgia agreed. “But check out the biographical information on the
second page. Not that there's much of it.”

Kate
switched pages.

Born
: Mason County, Texas.

Father
: Deputy Sheriff, deceased. Shot
and killed during gas station robbery while off-duty, age 44.

Mother
: Assistant store manager,
deceased. Known alcoholic, chain smoker. Died of lung cancer, age 46.

Siblings
: Five.

Without
looking up, Kate said, “Sounds like he had a rough family life. He told me that
his mother was an alcoholic, and he knew what it could do to a family.”

Education
: B.A., Princeton University,
economics. Full scholarship with work/study. Completed degree in six years.
M.B.A., Columbia University.

“I
guess he has to be smart to be a CEO,” Kate muttered. “Wonder why it took him
six years to finish Princeton.”

Marital status
: Single.

Sexual orientation
: Heterosexual.

“Someone
researches people's
sexual
orientation?”

Georgia
shrugged. “Knowledge is power.”

“Well,
I could have saved you the trouble,” Kate said without thinking, as she skimmed
through categories such as drug use, psychiatric treatment, gambling and gun
licenses, all of which stated unequivocally
none
.

Noticing
her friend's uncharacteristic silence, Kate lowered the papers. Georgia was
watching her over the rim of her wineglass.

“What?”
Kate said.

“You
told me that your date with Randall Johnson was boring. You also said that you
didn't get along. But he told you about his mother, and now you're willing to
vouch for his sexual preference. Something doesn't fit here.”

Kate
groaned and tossed the papers on the coffee table. Slumping in her chair, she
locked her eyes on the ceiling light fixture as she confessed, “I didn't just
have dinner with Randall Johnson. In fact, I didn't have dinner at all. We, um,
were intimate.”

Silence
reigned again for several long seconds and then Georgia recovered her powers of
speech. “You had
sex
with
Randall Johnson
?”

Kate
winced at Georgia's phrasing, but she nodded.

“Two
Saturdays ago?”

Kate
nodded again.

Georgia
stood up and walked over to look down at Kate's face. Evidently, she saw
something there that made her ask, “And last Saturday?”

“Yes,”
Kate said, finally looking at her friend. “I'm not proud of what I did, but I
wasn't thinking clearly. It's history.”

Georgia
stared at the fireplace. “Kate, I wouldn't ordinarily begrudge you some
well-deserved fun, but messing around with Randall Johnson just isn't a good
idea.”

“I
know, I know.”

“He's
very sexy, and brilliant in business, but he isn't interested in
relationships...” She picked up the database printout and ripped it into
pieces. “This is my fault! I should never have introduced you.”

Kate
was touched and amused by Georgia's sudden fit of protectiveness. “I'm a
grown-up. I knew what I was doing.”

Shaking
her head, Georgia said, “Not with this man. Did you read that bio? He came from
worse than nothing and built an empire. You don't do that by being a nice guy.”

“Don't
worry
. I'm done with Randall
Johnson.”

Ten

The Comets were running
“give-and-go's” when Kate spotted Oliver's tall figure sauntering across the
soccer field. She turned her back on him and started the team on a complicated
drill. Despite her body language, Oliver walked right up to her and kissed her
on the temple.

“Hello,
gorgeous.”

“Oliver's
here!” Patrick shouted and raced over to punch him on the arm before returning
to the drill. Clay raised a hand and said, “Hey.”

Oliver
nodded back.

The
referee blew the starting whistle.

Oliver
kept his gaze on the game as he said, “I tried to call you to apologize for
Sunday.”

“This
isn't really a good place to talk.”

“I
can't apologize to your answering machine.”

“I'm
sorry,'' Kate said uncomfortably. “I've been so busy with work. I've got an
engineering job in the city now. I'm still adjusting to the new schedule –”

“I
found that out from Patrick.”

Oliver
sounded both hurt and annoyed.

“It
came up very suddenly – way to go, Robert!” she yelled as the ball flew past
the opponent's goalie. Deciding to face the inevitable sooner rather than
later, she said, “Why don't you come over to the house after I take the team
for pizza? We have things to talk about.”

Oliver's
eyebrows rose. “I don't rate an invitation to the pizza party?”

“Of
course you're invited. I just know your opinion of Marzullo's pizza.”

“If
the Comets win today, I'll choke down two slices.”

The
Comets won 2-1. As the parents and boys milled around collecting water bottles
and sweatshirts, Denise Costanza followed Kate to the far side of the field to
gather up flags and cones. “I see that Oliver is staking out his territory
now,” Denise said as she bent down to pick up a red marker.

“What
do you mean?” Kate took the cone from her and added it to the stack.

“I
don't think it's a coincidence that the week after Randall Johnson comes to a
soccer game, Oliver suddenly shows up. He hasn't been here in months. Not only
that, but he hovered over you the whole time.” She handed Kate two more cones.

Kate
yanked a flag out of the ground with unusual force. “Did it really look that
way?”

Denise
relented slightly. “It wasn't that bad. I imagine that most people figured he
was here as the proverbial family friend.”

“You
didn't.”

“Yes,
but I'm particularly observant.” Realizing that Kate was genuinely distressed,
Denise stopped picking up cones. “It's been over a year since David died.
You're allowed to start dating again.”

Kate
sighed. “I don't want to start dating again. And I hate being pushed.”

As
Denise started to apologize, Kate said, “Oh, I don't mean by
you
, I mean by Oliver and Randall.”

“Well,
it ought to be real interesting when they both show up at the same soccer
game,” Denise replied. Seeing Kate's expression, she added, “Don't worry, I'll
run interference for you. Just assign me Randall.”

Kate
forced a smile and grabbed another cone.

“Kate,
I'm very sorry for the way I behaved last Sunday.”

This
was the conversation she didn't want to have. She had lingered with the team
over pizza as long as she could. Now they were home on the porch, the boys were
upstairs, and she had no choice but to hear Oliver out.

She
started to say something politely soothing, but Oliver raised his hand to stop
her.

“My
only defense is that I was shocked and disappointed. I had hoped that when you
began to think of another relationship, you would think of me.” He produced a
rueful smile.

“It
was my fault,” Kate said. “I was
trying
to shock you. I just didn't get quite the reaction I expected.”

Oliver
winced. “I reconsidered your questions about Sylvia. I'll answer them if you
still want to know about her.”

Kate
was stunned into silence. She supposed that this was a peace offering – or a
bribe – if one were cynical. Suddenly, she wasn't sure that she did want to
know... Maybe it was better to keep the images vague and fuzzy.

Oliver
noticed her hesitation. “I can't tell you all that much. But you have a right
to know what I know.”

She
couldn't go on being the only person in the dark about her husband's secret
life. “Who was she? How did they meet?”

Oliver
sighed and stared at the ceiling as he said, “Sylvia Dupont. She was the
interior designer on the DePaolo house in Baltimore. She's one of those high
society designers, very connected, doesn't need the money. The DePaolos
insisted on hiring her. David wasn't happy about that since he'd never worked
with her before and the house was an important commission.”

“Evidently,
she won him over. How long did it take him to go to bed with her?”

Oliver
sat down on the swing and leaned his elbows on his knees, keeping his eyes on
his hands. “I don't really know. David said that she went after him in a big
way. I think that their affair lasted about six months.”

Kate
rocked back in her chair.
Six months
.
Her husband had been making love to another woman for six months, and she had
been totally unaware of it. He had been in Baltimore often during that time but
when he came home, he had been as enthusiastic about their physical
relationship as ever. Kate shivered as she wondered if David had come from
Sylvia's bed to hers.

“He
broke it off,” Oliver continued. “I think that Sylvia tried to get him back for
a while afterward.”

“Where
did they do it? In a hotel? At her house?”

“Christ,
I don't know!” Then he softened his tone. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because
I'm trying to understand why the man I loved and trusted betrayed me. And why I
had no idea that he was betraying me. Did he do it for the thrill of leading a
double life? Was Sylvia unbelievable in bed? What does she look like?” Kate
asked, leaning forward.

“I've
only met her once. She's pretty: blond, tall, slim, well-dressed. She looks
like what she is.”

“So
she's spectacular.”

Oliver
came over to Kate's chair and knelt beside her. “Kate, stop. It's not worth it.
David did a stupid thing, a terrible thing, but he loved you. I know that.”

Kate
felt tears welling up and she blinked furiously. “It's a strange kind of love
that lets you cheat on your wife.”

Suddenly
she was sobbing as pain and confusion swept over her. Oliver drew her up from
the chair and put his arms around her, cradling her against his chest. In some
small corner of her mind, Kate knew that she shouldn't allow him to do this.
But his comfort lessened the frightening sense of being alone. She cried until
she was exhausted. The moment she started to straighten, Oliver let her go,
digging in his pocket to find her a package of Kleenex. Kate accepted the
package with a watery smile. “I've already used your shirt as a handkerchief.”

Oliver
pulled the wet fabric away from his chest. “Luckily, I wore the extra-absorbent
one today.”

“Excuse
me for a minute. I'm going to go throw cold water on my face.” Kate escaped to
the bathroom.

“You're
an idiot,” she told her reflection as she turned on the taps. “Now Oliver has
every right to think you were encouraging him.” Kate washed her face and then
blotted it with the towel. “Well, let's go see how much damage you've done.”

When
she emerged from the bathroom, Oliver was standing in the kitchen. “You
probably want some time alone, but my shoulder is here for you to cry on anytime
you need it.”

“Thank
you,” she said as he opened the back door.

She
couldn't see the satisfied smile that spread over Oliver's face as he drove
away.

Randall
Johnson slapped the folder he was reading shut. He couldn't keep his attention
on the numbers parading across the pages. Swiveling his big leather chair
around, he rifled through the pile of newspapers and business magazines stacked
on his credenza without finding anything to interest him. He got out of the
chair and went to the minibar hidden behind a mahogany panel. Grabbing a bottle
of mineral water, he walked over to his wall of windows.

As
soon as he let his mind wander, it instantly gravitated to Kate Chilton.

He
remembered lowering her onto the hood of his car and pushing up her skirt so that
he could see the thigh-high stockings she wore. Damn, he loved those stockings!
He recalled the feel of her under him. Then he quickly cut off that train of
thought as he felt himself growing hard and mentally doused himself in cold
water by recalling her brittle tone as she told him she was using him for a
bizarre form of revenge.

He
felt his anger surge again. Why did this particular woman rile him so much?
Even though he had denied it, he wasn't generally averse to good sex with no
strings attached. In fact, more and more, he preferred it that way.

Randall
tilted the water bottle to his lips and stared out the window. Maybe it
was
an ego problem: he
had
expected to control the encounter.

He
shook his head.

No,
he had had higher expectations of Kate,
that
was it. There was a fineness about her that attracted him. He wanted to fence
with her verbally, not just sexually. He wanted to teach her boys to nutmeg. He
wanted to... He scowled and knocked back the rest of the water just as Tom
Rogan walked into his office.

“The
Mason people are promising a final contract by Friday so your trip is on as
scheduled,” Tom said, seating himself on the couch.

Randall
grunted an acknowledgment.

“Are
you planning to stroll down Memory Lane while you're in Texas?” Tom asked.

“I'm
planning to
repave
Memory Lane.”

“So
you're going in with guns blazing.”

“Guns
are more Gill's style than mine. Money is my weapon—and it's just as lethal.”

“I
didn't mean that literally,” Tom said, looking worried.

Seeing
papers dangling from his VP's fingers, Randall changed the subject. “Do you
need me to sign those?”

Tom
flipped the papers up and looked at them as though he had forgotten what they
were. “These? No, but I thought that they might interest you on a deeply
personal level.”

“What
the hell is that supposed to mean?” Randall said, as he yanked the papers from
Tom's hand. The top sheet was a note on an engineering firm's letterhead. The
bottom sheet was Kate's resume. He went back to the letter and started reading.

Dear Tom,

I'm forwarding this resume to you because I
highly recommend Kate Chilton as an engineer and as an employee. I'd hire her
myself if I had a position worthy of her talents. I'm hoping that you might be
able to find her a place somewhere in RJ Enterprises. Give me a call and we’ll
talk.

Regards, Phillip Gabelli

“When
did you get this?” Randall barked.

“This
morning.”

“Have
you called Phil Gabelli?”

“No,
I thought that you might prefer to do it.”

Randall
scanned the resume, noting that Kate's credentials were quite impressive.

“She
looks like she'd make a great addition to the company. Just think of how much
more interesting meetings would be. You could use this couch or the conference
table or...” Tom stopped abruptly as Randall's expression hardened.

“Kate
Chilton is off-limits as of now,” he said flatly.

Tom
nodded. “Understood.” He made a quick and silent exit.

A
minute later, Randall returned to his desk and flipped through his computer
Rolodex, sending a telephone number to the auto-dialer.

“Hello,
is Frank Peltier there? It's Randall Johnson. Hey, Frank! How are things out in
the back of nowhere?... Yeah, I'll come out and see your place – the next time
my plane runs out of gas. Do you know a firm called C/R/G in New York? They
lost a partner about a year ago and I'm curious about the business. What's the
status of the partnership, how's their financial position, that sort of
thing... Yeah, I might go into competition with you... Thanks, I appreciate
your help and your discretion. And Frank, the radiant heat under the back
terrace was a real good idea.”

He
hesitated a minute, then clicked another number into the auto-dialer. “Phil
Gabelli, please. This is Randall Johnson.”

In
the few moments he waited, Randall picked up the cordless receiver and walked
to his customary spot in front of the window-wall.

“Phil.
Randall Johnson here. Tom just showed me your letter about Kate Chilton so I
thought that I'd give you a call... I'm too late?... Do you know where she’s
working? Maybe I'll steal her away,” he said with a chuckle.

After
a very informative conversation, Randall buzzed Gail.