“She’s having a good day, she managed to eat some soup. We even went for a short walk in the garden.” Hanna sounded wistful, and his fist clenched in an effort not to throw down the phone and run to the nearest airport. Christ, he missed her.
“That sounds hopeful. I’m hoping to fly over in the next couple of weeks, once we’ve managed to sort out the new head of Real Estate.” Not wanting to burden her with his troubles, he quickly changed the subject, “Joe asked me to give you his regards. He’s devastated you won’t be dancing with him at the gala this evening.”
“Oh God, I forgot that was happening tonight, I’m so sorry.” Her tone turned tearful, and Richard bit his lip in response. “I’m really upset that I can’t be there with you.”
“Hey, we agreed you wouldn’t feel guilty about this,” he chided. “You’d only be bored, anyway. I plan to run in, make my speech, and then hot tail it home.”
“Richard, you know you can’t do that. The only reason the tables sell for so much is all the women want to get their hands on you for a dance.”
“There’s only one woman I want to be dancing with tonight, sweetheart. Since you won’t be there, I’ll just sit this one out.”
“I love you.”
He could almost hear her smile.
“I love you, too. Now try and get some rest.”
RICHARD’S CAR PULLED up outside the Waldorf-Astoria. As he strode under the gilt-edged canopy and entered the lobby, he saw his PA waiting for him, wearing a silver ankle-length gown, her auburn hair swept up and back from her face to reveal her smiling features.
“You’re late.”
“I know.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I only left the office an hour ago. Have I missed much?”
“Your mother was very disappointed that you weren’t on her table for dinner, and I’ve had to give your apologies to about a thousand frustrated ladies who are desperate to mark your dance card.”
“Do dance cards still exist?” He gave her a wry smile. They began walking toward the Grand Ballroom. Lisa fussed over his bowtie and jacket, smoothing them down until he was perfectly turned out.
“If they do, then along with the rest of your cards, I’ve marked them,” she replied dryly. “Your speech is cued up on the screen of the lectern, and Jon Stewart has done a wonderful job of warming up the crowd. You just need to get in there and do your thing.”
“You make it sound so easy.” He grinned, batting her hands away as she tried to smooth down his hair. “And leave me alone, I’m trying to perfect the hobo look.”
“You’re doing a damn fine job,” Lisa muttered. “And don’t worry about the speech, nobody will be listening, they’ll have either drunk themselves into a stupor at dinner, or they’ll be planning who they’re going to schmooze with next. Think of yourself as the gala equivalent of a B movie.”
Later that evening, he found himself standing at the bar, a glass of whisky in hand, surrounded by people that he only had a passing acquaintance with. The 3rd Annual Leon J Maxwell Memorial Foundation Dinner was being held to raise money for the families of victims of 9/11. It was only the fact that it was such a good cause that kept Richard anywhere near the Astoria that evening. With just under a thousand guests present, the foundation hoped to raise upwards of $3 million during the gala.
“Darling, there you are, I’ve been looking for you all over. Please don’t tell me you came alone tonight.” Richard looked up to see his mother approaching, looking resplendent in an emerald-green evening dress, her hair lying softly against her shoulders.
“Mother.” He leaned forward and kissed her, his lips softly brushing her cheek. “And yes, I came alone, you know Hanna can’t leave England right now.”
“You really should find yourself a partner for times like these,” she chided, ignoring Richard’s reddening face. “It doesn’t look right when you turn up without anybody on your arm.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” He drained his whisky, putting the empty glass on the bar.
“How long is this going to go on, darling? I can’t stand to see you turn up at these occasions on your own. You really need the support of a woman. You’re way too busy to be concerning yourself with the small things.” Caroline brushed a piece of lint from his sleeve. “People are starting to notice.”
“I couldn’t give a damn what people are saying.” Richard was angry, his voice louder than he intended. “Diana is dying, what do you expect Hanna to do, fly out and leave her on her own?”
“I expect her to stand by her man, just like the rest of us would.”
“Because appearances always come first,” he said bitterly.
“No, because when you are in love with somebody, you want to be with them. When was the last time you saw Hanna?”
“I spoke with her this evening.” His words were firm and flat, and invited no response. Caroline continued, ignoring his warning.
“Well, just think about it. If Hanna can’t accompany you to important occasions such as this, having a friend to stand in would be a better option.” Like his own, her words were short. She took another glass of champagne from a passing waiter before squeezing Richard’s hands. “I don’t mean to nag you, darling, but I worry about you. When you’re not working you’re either on a plane or visiting Hanna. A man like you needs somebody to look after him.”
Her words hit a tender spot. Without Hanna, he felt incomplete, and to attend functions without her on his arm was difficult. It wasn’t the fact that single women of a certain age seemed to make a beeline for him, because he was easily able to swat them off. It was more that he felt her absence profoundly.