So he started accepting invitations. He didn't know how it would be, mingling with the doers and shakers; he was nervous, at first, and excited, but Annie was neither.
"Am I expected to go with you?" she asked, the first time he tossed a cream-colored charity ball announcement on the kitchen table.
Her response hurt. He'd still been foolish enough, in those days, to have hoped she'd get some pleasure at how he'd moved them up in the world.
"Yes," he'd said, speaking coldly to hide his disappointment "You're my wife, aren't you?"
"Certainly," Annie had answered, and she'd gone out, bought a gown and all the stuff to go with it, had her hair done and sailed into the gilded hotel ballrooms and wood-paneled meeting rooms of their new life as if she'd never flipped hamburgers or burped a crying baby.
Lord, he'd been so proud of her. He'd been as nervous as a cat inside, wondering if he'd fit in, but not Annie. She'd brimmed with self-confidence. And she'd been so beautiful, so bright. He'd ached to keep her stapled to his side but he hadn't done it, not once he'd realized she didn't need him to shore her up. He knew how hard she'd worked in the background, all those years. It was little enough to do, to back off and let her shine on her own. Just as long as he was the guy who took her to the party and brought her home, he was happy.
What an idiot he'd been! It had turned out she'd hated spending those evenings with him. His first clue had come when she'd started saying no, she couldn't attend this function or that dinner because she'd signed up for some artsy-fartsy course that had no practical use except to make the very clear point that what she really wanted was a life apart from his.
He found himself devoting more time to business, spending days at a clip away from home. What did it matter? Dawn was slipping into her teenage years. Her life centered around her friends. As for Annie...Annie was never there. She was neck-deep in courses that only emphasized the growing differences between them.
How To Appreciate Haiku. Understanding Jasper Johns, whoever in hell Jasper Johns was. Batik-Making. And then, finally, what had seemed like a trillion courses in flower arranging and design and the next thing he'd known, he had a suitcase in his hand and it was goodbye, twenty years of marriage-well, there'd been that mess at the end that had finished things off, when his secretary had thrown herself into his arms, but he hadn't done a thing to encourage it, no matter what Annie thought.
Peggy had been lonely. As lonely as he was. Some quiet talk, a couple of suppers after they'd been poring over figures for hours in the office, followed by his seeing her into a taxi, never anything more personal than that. That was why nobody had been more surprised than he when Peggy had suddenly launched herself into his arms one night. And wouldn't you know that would be the one night in who knew how many years Annie had picked to come waltzing into the office?
Chase sighed. Not that it mattered anymore. He and Annie were long divorced. He'd made a new life for himself. A pleasant one and yes, he supposed-okay, he knew-that Janet would be delighted to be part of that life, if he asked her..
He'd been happy. Content.
Until today.
Until he'd taken Annie into his arms on that dance floor and felt things, remembered things, he didn't want to feel or remember. Until he'd opened his mouth and jammed his own big foot right into it. And now here he was, heading for Seattle, listening to Annie go on and on about what he'd done, and he had another couple of hours of listening ahead of him before their plane landed and he got her on a flight headed in the other direction.
"...could at least show some concern!"
Chase looked at his ex. Annie was staring straight ahead, her face flushed, her arms crossed over her middle.
"Listen," he said, "what would you like me to do? Get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness?"
She made a humphing sound and lifted her chin a notch.
"Maybe you want me to stand up and tell all these people what a chump I am."
Annie humphed again.
"Just tell me, all right? Say, 'Chase, here's what you've got to do if you want me to shut up.' And I'll do it, Annie, so help me, I'll do it, because I am tired unto death of listening to you bitch and moan!"
That got her attention. She swung toward him, her blue eyes flashing.
"Bitch and moan? Me?"
"Yes, you. Complain and nag, complain and nag, and all because I made one mistake."
"I am not complaining or nagging. I am merely stat ing the obvious. Yes, you made one mistake. A biggie. And now here we are, off on a trip to Portland-" "Seattle."
"Dammit, what's the difference?"
"Portland's in Oregon. Seattle's in Washington. There's a big difference."
"Well, excuse me. I suppose I'd know the difference, if I had a college degree, but forgive me, I don't."
"Are you going completely nuts? What's a college degree got to do with this?"
What, indeed? Annie bit her lip. "Nothing."
"You're damn right," Chase said. "Now why don't you do us both a favor? Put back your seat, shut your eyes and try to get some rest."
"Oh, yes, that's easy for you to say but then, everything's easy for you to say! Otherwise, you'd never have gotten us into such a mess in the first place. How could you? How could you have told Dawn-"
"That's it," Chase said grimly, and he hauled Annie into his arms and kissed her. She was too surprised to fight him, and he took advantage of it, making the kiss long and deep. "Now," he said, drawing back just far enough so he could look straight into her eyes, "are you going to keep quiet? Because if you start babbling again, so help me, I'll kiss you until you shut up."
Annie's cheeks flooded with color.
"I hate you, Chase Cooper," she hissed.
Chase let her go. "What else is new," he said tiredly, and then he shut his eyes, told himself not to think about how good it had felt to kiss her because then he'd start remembering what making love had been like, before they'd turned away from each other, how it had been powerful and tender, wild and serene, and so much more than he'd ever imagined a basically simple physical act could be.
Stop it, he told himself angrily, and he tumbled into a deep, troubled sleep.
* * *
Annie watched with disgust as Chase slept beside her.
He was snoring softly, and from the look on his face she could tell that he was sleeping the sleep of the innocent.
Well, why be surprised? That was how he'd dealt with any kind of problem, before their divorce.
"By sleeping," she muttered, and scrunched down lower in her seat.
There'd been times, as soon as she'd realized their marriage was in trouble, when she'd spent half the day just thinking about what was going wrong, trying to put a name to it, to come up with an explanation and maybe a solution. Then she'd wait for Chase to come home, so they could talk.
What a slow learner she'd been!
How could you talk to a man who came dragging through the door hours late? Who pretended he'd been trudging around job sites or driving back from one when the simple truth was that he didn't come home because he had nothing to say to you anymore?
Was it her fault that she'd married him so young, before she'd had a chance to go to college, the way he had?
There'd been a brief time, after Cooper Construction had begun to grow, when she'd dared let herself dream that things were getting better.
But they hadn't. Things had gotten worse, instead, starting the night Chase had come home and told her, with a smug smile, that he'd been invited to a big-deal dinner. He wanted to go. It was, he'd said, a terrific opportunity.
He made it sound like an invitation to paradise.
"Do you want me to go?" she'd asked, and just for a minute, she'd looked into his eyes and prayed for him to say that all he really wanted was for them to love each other as they once had.
Instead he'd gotten a closed-up look on his face and said that she was his wife. Of course, he wanted her to go.
What he'd meant was that it was expected of her. Accompanying him to the party was part of her job description, like cooking the meals he never came home to share or warming his bed when he reached for her.
So she'd gone out and bought herself the right clothes, had her hair done the right way, and gone with him to the damned Chamber of Commerce party. Whatever. She couldn't really remember anymore. Not that it mattered. The dozen or more functions she'd attended on Chase's arm were all equally dull and dreary, and he didn't even stay with her during the evening. It was always the same. He'd introduce her, then go off on his own. Networking, not even making the slightest pretense that he enjoyed her company because the truth was, he didn't.