Several times she had urged Noah to read it. Each time he had shown little interest, but in a rushed and absentminded way had promised that he would get to it as soon as his schedule permitted. Now she knew why his schedule was so tight. Much of his time had been allocated to his mistress.
Switching gears, she said, “Speaking of Dad…” It was unlikely that her cell phone had rung without her hearing it, but she took it from her skirt pocket and checked the lighted readout. No missed calls. “I should go call him again. I haven’t been able to get an answer at his house this morning, and that’s unusual.”
She wasn’t worried yet, just a little curious as to why Maxine was out so long. Ordinarily she had supplies delivered so she wouldn’t have to leave the house and Daniel unattended for extended periods of time. Her errands were usually quickly dispatched.
Daniel hadn’t gone to the office today; Maris had checked.
So apparently he and Maxine were out somewhere together. Maybe they’d gone for a walk in Central Park, or to a museum, or to a movie. Daniel enjoyed all those things, and Maxine sometimes accompanied him, welcoming the break from her routine.
But Maris had been trying to reach them for hours. She had left voice-mail messages for them to call her as soon as they returned. Either they hadn’t checked for messages or they had been out for a very long time, and one was as uncustomary as the other.
“You’re welcome to use our phone,” Mike told her.
“Thanks, but I’ll use my cell.” Before leaving she asked Mike if there was anything she could do to help him with dinner. “I’m a working woman, but not a total stranger to the kitchen.”
“I’ll let you pour the wine when the time comes.”
She had known he would refuse her offer, as Maxine always did, but she wanted to offer anyway. “Then will you excuse me?” Collecting the new pages of manuscript, she headed for the back door. “I’m eager to curl up with the next chapter.”
Chapter 25
Noah answered his ringing cell phone. “Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“Nadia?”
“Yes, Noah, Nadia,” she replied waspishly.
He took a cautionary glance over his shoulder to make certain that Daniel hadn’t yet made his way downstairs. Afternoon sunlight was pouring in through the open slats of the window shutters, casting long stripes of light and shadow across the hardwood floor and lending the pale saffron walls a mellow glow.
The Matherlys’ country house was a bit fussy and cluttered to suit his taste. He favored contemporary. Right angles and sleek surfaces. But for what it was, the restored Colonial had been nicely done. Several years ago it had been featured in Architectural Digest—the country retreat of a book-publishing icon.
Here in the living room the easy chairs were wide and deep, and each had a requisite footstool. The intricate brass fireplace screen was an original to the house. Rosemary Matherly’s collection of china plates from all over the world was displayed behind the glass doors of a tall cabinet.
Scattered about on end tables and in shelves were photographs of Daniel with notable authors and luminaries from other fields of endeavor ranging from the entertainment industry, to sports, to politics, including two presidents. Pictures of Maris chronicled her childhood, adolescence, and emergence into young womanhood.
There were several photos of Noah and Maris together. One taken at their wedding reception showed the laughing bride hand-feeding him a bite of wedding cake. He took perverse pleasure in looking at it now as he talked to his most recent mistress.
“I’ve been calling you all day,” she said.
“And I’ve been avoiding you. When I see one of your numbers on the caller ID, I let it ring.”
“I figured that. So this time I’m calling from a friend’s phone.”
“Male or female?”
“That depends on whether or not you’re speaking to me.”
“You’ve got a selective memory, Nadia. Obviously you’ve forgotten why I’m not speaking to you.”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten. But I woke up this morning deciding to forgive you, so—”
“You decided to forgive me? I didn’t boink my personal trainer.”
“I’ve seen your personal trainer, Noah. No one would want to boink him.”
She was at it again. Mocking him. Being condescending. Just as she’d been when he found her swaddled in damp sheets and postcoitus bliss. Hearing the ridicule in her voice now resurrected the rage he’d felt then. The emotion that had roiled inside him hadn’t been inspired by jealousy. He couldn’t care less who she fucked or how often. Being mocked by her—that’s what had rankled.