“Trust me, that’s the last thing on your mind when you’re trussed up, in agony, and sweating like a pig.”
“You don’t sweat, Candace, for sure!” Letizia laughed.
“Of course she doesn’t,” replied Scarlet. “She glows like a princess, of the Park Avenue variety.”
The waiter came with Kate’s Bellini. She took a sip and smiled. “That’s better. You see, I was thinking, my lover has similar coloring to Pete, so hopefully, unless there are any hideous kickbacks from previous generations, the baby will look enough like Pete to fool him.”
“That’s optimistic,” said Candace.
“It happens all the time,” said Scarlet. “Apparently a vast percentage of children in this country do not belong to their fathers.”
“I think you should come clean,” Letizia advised.
“And risk losing Pete?” asked Angelica.
“Is he worth keeping?” Candace asked. “What’s your lover like?”
“Not the marrying type,” said Kate.
“Already married?”
Kate shook her head. “I can’t say. I haven’t told him about the baby, and I’m not going to. To be honest, he’s rather embarrassed about the whole thing. As far as we’re both concerned, it never happened.”
Candace growled, “There’s someone in there who says it did.” She pointed a manicured nail at Kate’s stomach.
Kate grinned. “But he’s not telling.”
“Not yet,” said Angelica.
At half-past three they picked up the children from school, standing in a huddle discussing Jenna Elrich, who was barking into her telephone in French to one of her staff. When she got the children home, Angelica went upstairs to check her e-mails. Never before had she been so eager to read them. With an expectant grin she clicked on her mail. There was one from her agent suggesting lunch—and one from Jack Meyer.
Dear Sage, Your e-mail is the most exciting thing to happen to a poor old dog lying on the porch, bored and neglected! I can hear your voice in your sentences and your laugh, as I imagine you must have laughed when you suggested that my porch is as big as Olivier’s. If Olivier is clever, he won’t require a big porch, but lie next to you in complete bliss on a porch the length of his nose to his wagging tail. (Wagging, I stress, because he’s married to you!) As for my ideas, I’m putting them together for you, looking back over my life and experiences. It’s not ready yet. Perhaps I’ll give it to you when you come out to South Africa, which I hope you will, very soon!
From Dog on Porch
5
Search for the beauty in everything because it’s there if you look hard enough.
In Search of the Perfect Happiness
Angelica stared at Jack’s e-mail, a mischievous smile playing guiltily about her lips. She knew she shouldn’t be encouraging him. But the chance of their meeting again was very slim. He lived a safe distance away in South Africa. Even if he came to London, she’d never be able to explain away lunch, and she certainly wouldn’t dare go behind Olivier’s back. She’d be sure to bump into someone they knew and be found out. She toyed with these ideas for amusement, for the sheer pleasure of the impossible dream.
With a recklessness that was quite out of character, she wrote a reply.
Dear Dog on Porch, I think the first secret to happiness is acceptance. Isn’t the desire to have what one can’t have the root of our unrest? Sage
Pleased, she pressed Send without hesitation. She waited a while for a reply. She’d have to go down to the playroom in a moment to beg, bribe, and coerce her children into doing their homework, but she was reluctant to tear herself away from the computer. Just as she was about to get up, the telephone rang. It was her agent, Claudia Hemmingway.
“Hi there, Angelica. How’s the writing going?”
“It’s great,” she lied. “Just began today.”
“Fabulous. Can’t wait to read the first draft.”
“Don’t hold your breath. I won’t have anything for you until after Christmas.”
“That’s okay, so long as you’re pushing on. Listen, I think we should have lunch. There are a few proposals I want to discuss with you.”
“Nice proposals?”
“I think so.” She paused. “I haven’t seen you all summer. Let’s say it’s time to regroup.”
“Oh God, you’re going to try to persuade me to go to Australia again.”
“I promised I wouldn’t.”
“I can’t leave the children for that long—you know that.”
“And I totally understand; it’s just that . . .”