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“Aren’t you coming?” he asked.
For the second time in less than a day, Delilah imitated a fish. “You want my company?”
“Do you mind? I’m not in the mood for drinking alone tonight.”
His smile was almost sheepish, so boyishly winsome, her insides turned soft and warm. How could she say no?
Ten minutes later, she sat in a bamboo fan chair waiting on a glass of white wine. Being close to the water must have inspired the hotel decorator to try a Caribbean theme. With its potted palms and soft calypso music, the verandah bar resembled a tropical hideaway. A New England version anyway. Paper lanterns strung on wires swayed in the ocean breeze. Being a Thursday night, the room was only partially full, mostly small groups of professionals visiting the city on business. She and Simon were the only couple in the crowd.
Only they weren’t a couple, she reminded herself. Just employer and employee sitting in a romantic moonlit setting.
She searched around, looking for a distraction. To her left, Boston Harbor stretched black, red and green lights guiding boats to the Atlantic. More lights dotted the horizon, the runway markers for Boston’s airport. Delilah watched as a line of planes made their way to their descent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the waiter return.
Simon slid her wine across the table toward her, then raised his whiskey in the air. The gesture forced her attention back to him. Not that she needed much force, seeing how she hadn’t completely stopped paying attention.
“To getting through dinner,” he said.
Delilah frowned at his choice of words. “Wouldn’t we be better off toasting to success?”
“That depends on your definition of success.”
“You don’t think tonight went well?”
“Are you talking about before or after I dumped cabernet all over my tenderloin?” He took a long, healthy drink before speaking again. “I think we can both agree, I’ve had better performances.”
“It wasn’t that bad. You recovered nicely,” she added, when Simon arched his eyebrow.
“The idea is to not have to recover at all. Not with an account this size.”
“Jim Bartlett didn’t appear too concerned.”
Holding his tumbler by its base, he studied the contents of his half-full glass. “Didn’t your mother tell you appearances can be deceiving?”
Her mother had been too consumed by grief to teach her much of anything. “So, what do we do?”
“Nothing.” He set the glass down with a resounding thunk. “What’s done is done. We start over better and stronger in the morning.”
“Well then we really should be drinking to putting tonight behind us,” she told him.
“Funny. I thought we were.” He raised his glass. “To better tomorrows.”
“To better tomorrows,” Delilah repeated.
They clinked their glasses and Simon tossed back the rest of his drink. Inspired, Delilah took a healthy sip of her own, hoping the crisp dry liquid would help shake off her concerns.
“Funny how you and Josh Bartlett both went to the same prep school,” she remarked, still in the past but at least changing the subject. “What are the odds?”
“Better than you’d think. Sadly, the prep school world is surprisingly small.” Either she was imagining things or there was a new edge to his voice. Hard to say since Simon had turned to signal the waitress and she couldn’t see his face.
“You said you didn’t know him though.” Details of their dinner conversation came back. “Jim mentioned some kind of hazing scandal? Do you know what he was talking about?”
“It was nothing.”
Okay, there was definitely a change in tone. A newly acquired clip to his words. “Really? Because the way he spoke...”
“I said it was nothing,” he snapped. “Stupid kid stuff is all. Certainly not worth the attention everyone’s giving the subject.”
For nothing he certainly reacted strongly enough. “So, the fact you didn’t know Josh, is that why... Never mind.” The wine, added to the glass and a half she drank at dinner, had loosened her tongue.
“Finish your thought, Delilah.”
“Well...” She played with the stem of her glass. “I wondered why you didn’t make a bigger deal out of the coincidence, the two of you attending the school, I mean. Didn’t you tell me the key to good small talk is to find common ground?”
“I also said to encourage people to talk about themselves.”
“Wouldn’t this have encouraged conversation? Shared experiences and all that?”
“There are very few experiences from prep school that I wish to remember.”
“You didn’t enjoy high school?”
“Let’s say I prefer to treat high school as though the four years never happened and leave it at that.”
His comment surprised her. She’d always assumed Simon ruled whatever kingdom he entered.
Rather than push her luck by asking more, she changed the subject. “I suppose everyone has parts of high school they’d like to forget,” she said. “Personally I wouldn’t mind blocking out the tenth grade ring dance.”
“What happened at the tenth grade ring dance?”
“I caught Bobby McKenzie making out with another girl.”
“Doesn’t sound so horrible.”
“He was my date.”
“I stand corrected.”
The conversation paused as the waiter returned with their drinks. “You seemed to rebound well enough.” Simon continued after the man retreated. “Or are you still carrying a torch for the late great Bobby McKenzie?”
“Oh, I’m definitely over him.” Hopefully her cheeks weren’t as warm as they felt.
“Glad to hear it.”
“Still doesn’t mean I don’t want to forget the humiliation. When you’re fifteen years old, being publicly dumped can be very traumatic.”
Simon raised his drink, the glass masking both his tone and his expression. “Trust me, there are far more traumatic things that can happen.”
No kidding, thought Delilah. Try losing your father and having your mother turn into a ghost. If only she could forget those years.
“Clearly you were never a fifteen-year-old girl. I was certain Bobby was ‘the one.’” That was her mother’s fault, too, in a way. “I spent the whole year practicing my married signature. Delilah McKenzie. Mrs. Bobby McKenzie. Over and over, with little hearts over the i’s. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson...”
“What lesson?”
“Did I really just say that aloud?” No need wondering if she was blushing this time. Her cheeks were on fire. She pushed her wine to the side. “No more wine for me.”
“You still haven’t said what lesson you learned.”
Not to wear her heart on her sleeve, of course. “If you cover your notebook with stupid doodles, you’ll be forced to look at them all year long. I had to stare at those foolish hearts for six more months.”
He chuckled in to his drink. “At least you didn’t get a tattoo. You could still be staring at them.”
“Thank goodness for small favors. Can you imagine? I always wondered what people did when they were stuck with a tattoo they no longer wanted.”
“They get it removed.”
Delilah shuddered. “Talk about a painful way of forgetting your mistakes.”
He turned to look out at the water, leaving her to study his profile. Shadows, cast by the table lantern, flickered on his cheek and highlighted the day’s-end stubble that was beginning to show. “Is there any way that isn’t painful?”
His eyes glazed over then, and for a second, he disappeared, his thoughts going who knew where. Instinct told her it was some place he shouldn’t be. And that he needed a far better distraction than liquor. “Hey.” She almost reached out to touch him, only to catch herself at the last second. “How about we go for a walk? My legs could use stretching after sitting all day.
“Or not,” she continued when he didn’t respond. Her spirits sagged to think she wasn’t enough to pull him from his thoughts. “I can go by myself and catch up with you in the morning.”
“No,” he said just as she got to her feet. “A walk sounds good.” Draining the last of his whiskey, he slammed the glass down, then tossed some bills on the table. “Let’s go.”
* * *
The pathway behind their hotel was part of a longer walkway that extended along the entire inner harbor and connected the various docks and piers along the way. On the northeastern end, you had the trade center with its large white cruise ships, while to the northwest you had the naval shipyard, the tops of the USS Constitution’s masts visible at just the right angle. In between, ships of all sizes, from beat-up whale-watch vessels to sleek dinner cruisers and private sailboats, moved about all day long.
Delilah hadn’t spoken since they’d left the bar, making him wonder if she regretted her invitation. Then again, he wasn’t winning prizes for his conversational skills at the moment, either. The whiskey, while warming his insides, hadn’t relaxed him the way he’d hoped. There was still an elastic band attached from the back of his skull to the base of his spine.
He couldn’t believe Josh Bartlett went to Bates North. Forget what he told Delilah about the prep school community being small; it was still a lousy coincidence. And naturally Jim had to go and mention the hazing scandal....
Thankfully, Delilah didn’t make the connection between Jim’s comment and his poor reaction. He wasn’t sure he could handle her looking at him with more sympathy than she already was.
The hotel pier was quiet at the moment, although a sign posted on a lamppost said the first commuter boat would arrive at 7:30 a.m. There were sailboats floating in slips, their lowered sails tucked in canvas covers, the waves slapping against their fiberglass hulls. The soft sound calling to him, he led her to the end of the main pier where he could stare at the waves lapping the pilings.
Behind him, he could feel Delilah hovering a short distance from his shoulder. Funny, he usually hated people standing close, but Delilah’s proximity didn’t bother him. In fact, he found knowing she was in his space reassuring, comforting even.
“The water’s so black,” he heard her say. “Looks bottomless.”
So it did. Black and never-ending. He let the gentle noise of the waves wash over him. “There’s something very soothing about that idea.”
“What? You mean being bottomless?”
“Sure. Knowing you could float underwater forever surrounded by silence.”
“You’re not planning to jump in, are you?”
He smiled, picturing her concerned expression. “Afraid you’ll have to jump in and swim after me?”
“A little.”
Her bluntness made him chuckle. Refreshing after so many hours putting up a false front. “Don’t worry, I prefer my water a little more chlorinated. I simply meant in general. There’s a peacefulness to being surrounded by water.”
Good God, listen to him, waxing poetic about swimming. The whiskey must have relaxed him more than he thought. Staring deeper into the depths, he felt the pier sway with the waves, proving his point. He sat down, letting his legs dangle over the edge.
Delilah continued to hover; from the corner of his eye, he could see her leaning against a piling. He patted the concrete next to him. “Come sit down with me.”
Leaning back on his elbows, he looked out over the water, listening to the waves’ steady cadence as they splashed the objects around them. Once upon a time, he’d latched on to that rhythm to erase the past. Tonight he latched on again, letting it wash the memories back into place.
Over at her seat, Delilah had leaned back on her hands, as well. Not so far back as him, but enough that he could see the length of her thighs and the flash of her pants as she kicked her legs up and down. Her ponytail looked like a long brown tail. As she turned her face skyward, it hung down the center of her back. Made him want to give the thing a tug.
“Do you know, I’ve been in New York for four years now, and I still haven’t gotten tired of seeing the water?” she said to him. “I don’t think people on the coasts realize how lucky they are.”
“You make it sound like Kansas is a desert.”
“No, but watching the Missouri doesn’t have the same romantic quality.” She turned with a puzzled look. “How did you know I was from Kansas?”
“Your personnel file. I read it when I hired you.”
“Oh, I should have realized.” She ducked the hair behind her ear, a sure sign she was blushing. Simon was sorry the pier didn’t have better lighting so he could see what shade of pink her skin turned.
“Is this the point where I make a joke about leaving home for the Emerald City?”
“Please don’t. I heard enough jokes when I first moved here. And before you ask, no, I don’t own a little dog or have an Auntie Em.”
“Does that also mean I don’t have to worry about you clicking your heels three times during a meeting?”
“To go home?” She shook her head, tail swishing across her back. “Definitely not.”
“Pretty emphatic-sounding there, Dorothy. Got a problem with Kansas?”
She definitely blushed this time. Even the dim lighting couldn’t hide the color. “I’m just really glad to have made it to Manhattan.”
“There was doubt?”
“Let’s say there was a time when I wasn’t sure and leave it at that.”
“Okay.”
Clearly there was more to the story. Her lowered gaze and pink cheeks said as much, but who was he to judge? Everyone had secrets. Some worse than others.
Smiling, he reached over to pat her hand, silent reassurance that he didn’t plan to pry any further. To his surprise, it was he who felt comforted. The warmth of her skin beneath his palm eased his muscles in a way the liquor didn’t.
He wondered if Delilah noticed, for she suddenly raised her eyes to meet his. The dim gleam of the dock light reflected in their depths, turning them a richer shade of blue. The color water should be, he thought to himself.
“How come I never noticed how blue your eyes were before?” he asked her.
