Unavailable: Chapter 18
Title: Unavailable, Chapter Eighteen
Authors: bugs and aussie
Rated: M
Genre: A/U, Drama
Word Count: 2,800
Chapter Summary: On the night before the Adams' marriage ends, each party takes their pleasures.
Chapter Eighteen:
Tangled in Laura's mink cloak, their combined heavy breathing made the tiny closet hot and moist. Bill thought his head was going to burst from his boiling blood pressure.
In a saner moment, he'd remember he was getting too old for these sort of gymnastics, but right now...Right now he was frustrated to the point of growling. They were trapped between the large wall phone and the narrow shelf holding the phone books, and he couldn't thrust deep enough. He was missing that perfect spot.
“The angle...” Laura apparently agreed with him.
“Not quite right,” he muttered.
“It’s a pity you’re not taller,” she mused with that familiar, yet maddening, analytical tone she could often still use at times like this.
“Or I should cut you down to size,” he grumbled, looking around in the small space for...something...
There was nothing. But where else could they go? He certainly wasn’t going to suggest they stop. Not now when they were so close. Perhaps... He gripped Laura’s thighs and hoisted her off the shelf. Spinning around, he backed her against the phone box’s door with a thump.
“Bill, your back!”
“It’s more my knees that I’m worried about,” he confessed, but then she slipped down the dark wood panelling half an inch and he stopped worrying. “Perfect,” he crooned. He’d buy a wheelchair tomorrow if need be.
The phone box’s door handle vibrated beneath Bridgette’s hand. She squeaked and snatched her hand back immediately.At her heel, Jake whimpered before circling and flopping down.
Another thump shuddered the door, making Bridgette shake as well, but still not affecting the dog apparently.
What if someone was being attacked? She glanced over her shoulder, through the apartment building's front doors to the street, searching for someone to call for help.
Shockingly, there was a familiar face! Her beau, Stewart Jaffee, was standing guard by Mrs Adams' Rolls. Bridgette stared back at the phone booth door, still trembling. She could make out faint moans through the thick oak.
Young Jaffee outside meant that Mrs Adams was somewhere about...She took a step back.
There was a particularly loud thump and she turned tail, fleeing out the door, her curls jiggling under her little felt hat.
"Stewart!" she panted.
"Bridgette," said the young man, "where've you been these days?"
She grabbed his arm. "Is Mrs. Adams seeing Mr. Adams?"
The driver straightened his tunic, making the polished brass buttons flash. "I can't say."
"Oh Stu!" She stomped her foot. "Where else would she be if you're here?"
"Then why'd you ask?" he said stiffly.
She leaned on his strong chest. "Honey, things are so messed up."
He put an arm around her heaving shoulders. "Don't I know it," he sighed.
Bridgette realized he thought that she meant their master and mistress, but she remembered guiltily her meeting with Enzo earlier. That jerk could ruin her future with a great fella like Stewart Jaffee; a young man going somewhere in the world. She must protect that future.
“You better get back upstairs," Stewart murmured in her hair.
She laughed, tears in her voice. "I better wait for the Adamses to finish up first."
"Finish up?" the young man asked, confused.
Rising onto her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear.
“A phone booth?” He breathed out a low whistle. “Wait 'til they hear about that one in the staff parlor!"
“Bill.”
“Yeah?”
“You’d better let me go now before we really need to call an ambulance.”
Bill chuckled and loosened his grip, allowing Laura to unfold herself and stand. They both swayed unsteadily before somehow sorting their clothes back into order.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," Bill said with only a touch of humor.
When Laura glanced up at him, he cradled her cheek. He started to speak: "I--"
She covered his big hand with hers. "I as well, darling," she said quickly.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
"Of course," she insisted.
"This will all be over soon," he assured her, "and no more fooling around in phone booths."
She gave him an impish smile. "Don't say that." She kissed him.
He held her face close even after their lips parted. Their gazes held for a long moment before she turned away. "You'd better get back upstairs," she said, her voice distant already. "Your wife is expecting you."
He nodded grimly. "Before I do, let's make sure we're agreed on everything from here. After the annulment, we won't be able to meet again."
Laura clutched his hand. She'd thought she could be brave enough to do this, but now--
Bridgette watched from her hiding place behind a potted palm in the lobby. Sure enough, Mr. Adams exited the phone booth. Jake, who'd remained by the door, jumped up and followed his master up the stairs.
She waited.
After a few minutes, the door cracked again. Mrs. Adams--Laura Roslin--stepped out, pulling her rich cloak around her slender body, and without a backward glance, she hurried past Bridgette, through the front door to where Stewart waited, holding the Rolls' door open.
When the maid was sure Laura was gone, she stepped out. Raising her chin, Bridgette assessed the situation. The Adams were taking many risks to be together. Money couldn't buy everything for her mistress, apparently. But faithful servants could help, the young woman decided as she mounted the steps.
Bill paused outside the apartment. Lifting his sleeve, he took an experimental sniff. He could smell evidence of his deception again.
He would happily sleep with Laura’s heady aroma clinging to the pores of his skin every night, but this wasn’t the time to give Carolanne the chance to add to her already long list of grievances.
He’d already showered once tonight. She was going to be instantly suspicious if he breezed straight into the apartment and ran another one.
He checked his pocket watch. He’d been gone almost two hours. Surely she was going to be suspicious anyway. His only hope was that she’d fallen asleep waiting.
He slowly pushed open the apartment door, furtively peering across the entry into the living room where the overhead light still burned brightly. His heart sank when he saw a familiar figure reclined on the couch.
His one piece of luck was that she was facing away from him.
He held the keys so they never jangled, sliding them out of the lock before carefully closing the door behind him.
He toed off his shoes and crept along, following the wall. Jake kept close. Bill flinched every time the dog’s nails hit the tiled flooring. To him, the sound echoed throughout the apartment until the dog reached the carpet, but much to his relief, Carolanne never moved a muscle.
Pointing Jake in the direction of his basket, Bill kept moving toward the bathroom, checking over his shoulder to the couch every second step.
Finally he made it to the small room, sighing with relief that there was a lock on its door. Still, he wasn’t brave enough to run the shower and instead wet the corner of a towel to clean up.
Once sufficiently refreshed and changed into his pyjamas, he reluctantly opened the bathroom door, ready to face the music.
He found Bridgette standing over Carolanne, who still lay on the couch. The maid put her finger to her lips. Bill nodded and crept close. Jake raised his head to watch them, but stayed in his basket.
He looked down at Carolanne. He couldn't see breathing; her mouth was slack, her eyelids not quite closed. She appeared dead--and his heart dared to leap until he saw her chest rise ever so slightly.
Then Bill noticed an empty teacup which lay abandoned on its side next to the sofa's leg. Scooping it up from the floor, he saw it had no tealeaf dregs. He ran his finger around its rim and then tasted the residue. Alcohol.
With a sigh, he acknowledged that she was just dead to the world. He checked the mantle clock. He really needed to get some sort of sleep. He had to be awake again and at the docks in a couple of hours.
He nodded at Brigette before trying to wake his first wife.
“Carolanne?”
She didn't respond. Still, he had to get her out of his ‘bed’.
“Carolanne,” he repeated. He leaned down and gave her shoulder a shake. Her hand fell to the floor, limp.
"Okay," he said, suddenly very tired. "Bridgette, I'm going to carry Mrs. Adams to the bedroom. Will you help her into her nightgown?"
"Of course, Mr. Adams. I've got a lot of experience with this," the little maid said, determined.
He raised his thick brows. "Not Mrs. Adams...I mean, Laura."
She stifled a giggle. "No, Mr. Adams. Me mum."
"Sorry to hear about that," he said, hoisting Carolanne from the cushions and half-dragging, half-carrying her slack form to the bedroom. His back spasmed in pain, but he ignored it.
Once he'd laid her on the bed and Bridgette assured him that she had everything under control, he returned to the couch.
Flopping on the cushions, he groaned in agony. He was definitely getting too old for this. They had to be rid of Carolanne, and soon.
~*~
Laura slowly wandered across the dim foyer of her mansion, lost in thought and still half-drunk with desire and satisfaction. Her mink cloak whispered behind her, polishing the already bright marble floors. She mounted the stairs, every step dragging, before she reached the landing and entered her bedroom.
Saul peeked around a parlor's door. "Coast's clear," he said out of the side of his mouth.
Kara's head pushed out beside his. "What's she doing getting in so late--dressed like that?" she asked.
Then, contemptuously, "Has she been out catting around on Mr. Adams?"
Saul glared down at her. "Never! More like they were stealing a few minutes in some back alley."
"That's not right either," protested Kara. "What about Zak's mother?"
"Oh, we're gonna take care of that woman," vowed Saul. "Let's get out of here. You just need the dawn's light to fly, right?"
"Yeah," Kara said, crossing the foyer with determined strides.
Saul stopped at the garage door. "You left Zak a note?"
"Sure," she said easily. "Said I had to go out for cigarettes and to expect me back sometime later."
Saul shrugged. "Good enough. Let's get Laird and get in the air."
He looked around the opulent but silent house one more time. "We gotta get Bill home," he said.
~*~
Emily carefully placed her notebook to one side and turned to face her employer, who once again had just exhaled a dramatic sigh tinged of martyrdom.
“Perhaps an early lunch might be a good idea,” Emily suggested tentatively.
“No, no,” Laura insisted, staring down at the audit she’d arranged to be done on the mining branch of the business after Tom Zarek’s departure. “If I keep busy, I might forget where I need to be this afternoon,” she admitted.
“Mr Adams--”
“Is out on his tugboat,” Laura said, making the odd note in the margin of the report, feigning complete concentration. “Working hard before he has to accompany Carolanne to the courthouse,” she added bitterly.
There was a rap on the door before Emily could broach the topic further. "Come," Laura said dully.
Zak entered her office. She pasted on a smile. "Oh, good morning," she greeted him.
"Good morning, Miss Roslin," he said.
"Please, call me Laura."
The young man looked uncomfortable. Laura blinked to force her thoughts back to the matters at hand--the wedding!
"Where's Kara?" they said in tandem.
"I thought she may be in here working on the plans," the young man said lamely.
Emily rolled her eyes behind his back.
"She's not in her room? Perhaps sleeping late," Laura suggested.
"No, I've looked all over the house."
"Have you checked with your brother?" Emily asked.
Laura gave her a pointed glare over Zak's shoulder as he turned to the secretary.
"Yes, he hasn't seen her," Zak said, oblivious to the silent conversation between the two women. "She left a note though--"
Laura stifled a sigh of exasperation. Why didn't he just say that? "What did it say?"
"That she was going out for cigarettes," Zak explained. "But that makes no sense." He looked around as though he expected his fiancee to pop up from behind the couch. "There's plenty of cigarettes here."
"If she left a note, than nothing nefarious has happened to her," Emily said soothingly, gently leading him to a chair. "But we can work on the wedding plans. It's only a week off."
She was trying not to panic. Between the groom's distracted state, the bride's lack of enthusiasm, and the little problem of two mothers of the groom, this whole thing was shaping up to be a complete mess.
Zak glanced at Laura's cluttered desk. "It looks as though you ladies are busy."
"Just getting ready for this silly board meeting coming up," Laura said, keeping her tone light.
Emily forced a smile, knowing she should change the subject--she wasn't sure the young man could be trusted. "Let's talk about the cake," she quickly said.
Laura made her way to the window. Carolanne would be here in her house for the wedding if they hadn't gotten rid of her by then. How would she be able to face that woman in her home, before all of their guests?
"Zak, will you be going to the courthouse later?" she asked.
The young man flushed red. "I--"
"You will want to be there for your mother, surely," Laura said stiffly.
He slouched in the leather chair and shoved his hands in his pockets, reminding her so much of Bill that tears pricked to her eyes. "I dunno, Miss--Laura. I think I should keep out of it."
She glanced at the clock. "I suppose I should eat something before changing."
"Yes, Mrs. Adams," said Emily briskly. "You must eat. Keep your strength up."
"You're going?" Zak said, surprised.
"Of course, Zak." Laura straightened the paperwork on her desk. "My marriage is ending."
Old Jaffee rapped on the door and when he entered, told Zak there was a call for him on the foyer phone.
The young man leapt up. "Kara!?"
"I couldn't say, sir," the butler said, "the caller is a lady, though."
After mumbling his apologies to Emily, Zak rushed from the room.
"Damn," Emily said in a very unladylike manner after Jaffee closed the door. "This wedding is never going to come off."
"Don't worry," Laura said, giving her secretary's arm a quick squeeze. "Love will conquer all."
Seeing her friend's sad eyes, Emily kept her bitter retort to herself and just patted Laura's hand in response.
~*~
Zak peeked around the apartment after his mother opened the door and staggered away without taking his hat and coat. He dropped them on the couch, and Carolanne noticed this.
"The maid's gone--again," she said disagreeably.
"It's okay," he said with a friendly smile.
She pressed a fine lawn handkerchief to her damp forehead. "Don't speak so loudly, Zachary," she said faintly.
He lowered his already pleasant tone. "Sure, Mother."
She wandered to the chair by the window; this had become the spot where she spent so many hours now that Bill told her that he would not accept the charges from the shops.
"Mother?"
"Yes, son?" Her unseeing gaze stared at the rooftops.
"You called me--"
"You don't want to spend time with your mother?" she said, her voice quavering.
Zak took a deep breath and perched on the couch's arm. "Of course, Mother. But I thought you wanted something. It's the first time you've called me since you returned."
"I cannot telephone that house," she hissed, "that woman's home! It was humiliating to make this call!"
"Would you feel more comfortable if I moved out?" he asked carefully. "I won't be there much longer--"
"Fine, choose her," Carolanne said abruptly. "I understand. Her money--"
"She hasn't given me a dime," he said tightly.
"Why shouldn't she? You deserve it." She turned to face him and her eyes were much more alert than he expected from her dragging tone.
"I don't deserve anything," he insisted. "I just met the woman--"
"You don't need your old mother," Carolanne moaned, bringing her handkerchief to her quivering lips. "She's taken my place; you don't need me anymore! You won't help me if I need it!"
"Of course I would!" But the young man couldn't even bring himself to cross the room and hug her.
Those sharp eyes pinned him down. "Show me."
"How?" He stumbled to his feet, deciding he should go to her.
She turned away but patted the arm of her chair for him to sit there. "Let me tell you how."
End ~ Chapter 18
Authors: bugs and aussie
Rated: M
Genre: A/U, Drama
Word Count: 2,800
Chapter Summary: On the night before the Adams' marriage ends, each party takes their pleasures.
Chapter Eighteen:
Tangled in Laura's mink cloak, their combined heavy breathing made the tiny closet hot and moist. Bill thought his head was going to burst from his boiling blood pressure.
In a saner moment, he'd remember he was getting too old for these sort of gymnastics, but right now...Right now he was frustrated to the point of growling. They were trapped between the large wall phone and the narrow shelf holding the phone books, and he couldn't thrust deep enough. He was missing that perfect spot.
“The angle...” Laura apparently agreed with him.
“Not quite right,” he muttered.
“It’s a pity you’re not taller,” she mused with that familiar, yet maddening, analytical tone she could often still use at times like this.
“Or I should cut you down to size,” he grumbled, looking around in the small space for...something...
There was nothing. But where else could they go? He certainly wasn’t going to suggest they stop. Not now when they were so close. Perhaps... He gripped Laura’s thighs and hoisted her off the shelf. Spinning around, he backed her against the phone box’s door with a thump.
“Bill, your back!”
“It’s more my knees that I’m worried about,” he confessed, but then she slipped down the dark wood panelling half an inch and he stopped worrying. “Perfect,” he crooned. He’d buy a wheelchair tomorrow if need be.
The phone box’s door handle vibrated beneath Bridgette’s hand. She squeaked and snatched her hand back immediately.At her heel, Jake whimpered before circling and flopping down.
Another thump shuddered the door, making Bridgette shake as well, but still not affecting the dog apparently.
What if someone was being attacked? She glanced over her shoulder, through the apartment building's front doors to the street, searching for someone to call for help.
Shockingly, there was a familiar face! Her beau, Stewart Jaffee, was standing guard by Mrs Adams' Rolls. Bridgette stared back at the phone booth door, still trembling. She could make out faint moans through the thick oak.
Young Jaffee outside meant that Mrs Adams was somewhere about...She took a step back.
There was a particularly loud thump and she turned tail, fleeing out the door, her curls jiggling under her little felt hat.
"Stewart!" she panted.
"Bridgette," said the young man, "where've you been these days?"
She grabbed his arm. "Is Mrs. Adams seeing Mr. Adams?"
The driver straightened his tunic, making the polished brass buttons flash. "I can't say."
"Oh Stu!" She stomped her foot. "Where else would she be if you're here?"
"Then why'd you ask?" he said stiffly.
She leaned on his strong chest. "Honey, things are so messed up."
He put an arm around her heaving shoulders. "Don't I know it," he sighed.
Bridgette realized he thought that she meant their master and mistress, but she remembered guiltily her meeting with Enzo earlier. That jerk could ruin her future with a great fella like Stewart Jaffee; a young man going somewhere in the world. She must protect that future.
“You better get back upstairs," Stewart murmured in her hair.
She laughed, tears in her voice. "I better wait for the Adamses to finish up first."
"Finish up?" the young man asked, confused.
Rising onto her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear.
“A phone booth?” He breathed out a low whistle. “Wait 'til they hear about that one in the staff parlor!"
“Bill.”
“Yeah?”
“You’d better let me go now before we really need to call an ambulance.”
Bill chuckled and loosened his grip, allowing Laura to unfold herself and stand. They both swayed unsteadily before somehow sorting their clothes back into order.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," Bill said with only a touch of humor.
When Laura glanced up at him, he cradled her cheek. He started to speak: "I--"
She covered his big hand with hers. "I as well, darling," she said quickly.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
"Of course," she insisted.
"This will all be over soon," he assured her, "and no more fooling around in phone booths."
She gave him an impish smile. "Don't say that." She kissed him.
He held her face close even after their lips parted. Their gazes held for a long moment before she turned away. "You'd better get back upstairs," she said, her voice distant already. "Your wife is expecting you."
He nodded grimly. "Before I do, let's make sure we're agreed on everything from here. After the annulment, we won't be able to meet again."
Laura clutched his hand. She'd thought she could be brave enough to do this, but now--
Bridgette watched from her hiding place behind a potted palm in the lobby. Sure enough, Mr. Adams exited the phone booth. Jake, who'd remained by the door, jumped up and followed his master up the stairs.
She waited.
After a few minutes, the door cracked again. Mrs. Adams--Laura Roslin--stepped out, pulling her rich cloak around her slender body, and without a backward glance, she hurried past Bridgette, through the front door to where Stewart waited, holding the Rolls' door open.
When the maid was sure Laura was gone, she stepped out. Raising her chin, Bridgette assessed the situation. The Adams were taking many risks to be together. Money couldn't buy everything for her mistress, apparently. But faithful servants could help, the young woman decided as she mounted the steps.
Bill paused outside the apartment. Lifting his sleeve, he took an experimental sniff. He could smell evidence of his deception again.
He would happily sleep with Laura’s heady aroma clinging to the pores of his skin every night, but this wasn’t the time to give Carolanne the chance to add to her already long list of grievances.
He’d already showered once tonight. She was going to be instantly suspicious if he breezed straight into the apartment and ran another one.
He checked his pocket watch. He’d been gone almost two hours. Surely she was going to be suspicious anyway. His only hope was that she’d fallen asleep waiting.
He slowly pushed open the apartment door, furtively peering across the entry into the living room where the overhead light still burned brightly. His heart sank when he saw a familiar figure reclined on the couch.
His one piece of luck was that she was facing away from him.
He held the keys so they never jangled, sliding them out of the lock before carefully closing the door behind him.
He toed off his shoes and crept along, following the wall. Jake kept close. Bill flinched every time the dog’s nails hit the tiled flooring. To him, the sound echoed throughout the apartment until the dog reached the carpet, but much to his relief, Carolanne never moved a muscle.
Pointing Jake in the direction of his basket, Bill kept moving toward the bathroom, checking over his shoulder to the couch every second step.
Finally he made it to the small room, sighing with relief that there was a lock on its door. Still, he wasn’t brave enough to run the shower and instead wet the corner of a towel to clean up.
Once sufficiently refreshed and changed into his pyjamas, he reluctantly opened the bathroom door, ready to face the music.
He found Bridgette standing over Carolanne, who still lay on the couch. The maid put her finger to her lips. Bill nodded and crept close. Jake raised his head to watch them, but stayed in his basket.
He looked down at Carolanne. He couldn't see breathing; her mouth was slack, her eyelids not quite closed. She appeared dead--and his heart dared to leap until he saw her chest rise ever so slightly.
Then Bill noticed an empty teacup which lay abandoned on its side next to the sofa's leg. Scooping it up from the floor, he saw it had no tealeaf dregs. He ran his finger around its rim and then tasted the residue. Alcohol.
With a sigh, he acknowledged that she was just dead to the world. He checked the mantle clock. He really needed to get some sort of sleep. He had to be awake again and at the docks in a couple of hours.
He nodded at Brigette before trying to wake his first wife.
“Carolanne?”
She didn't respond. Still, he had to get her out of his ‘bed’.
“Carolanne,” he repeated. He leaned down and gave her shoulder a shake. Her hand fell to the floor, limp.
"Okay," he said, suddenly very tired. "Bridgette, I'm going to carry Mrs. Adams to the bedroom. Will you help her into her nightgown?"
"Of course, Mr. Adams. I've got a lot of experience with this," the little maid said, determined.
He raised his thick brows. "Not Mrs. Adams...I mean, Laura."
She stifled a giggle. "No, Mr. Adams. Me mum."
"Sorry to hear about that," he said, hoisting Carolanne from the cushions and half-dragging, half-carrying her slack form to the bedroom. His back spasmed in pain, but he ignored it.
Once he'd laid her on the bed and Bridgette assured him that she had everything under control, he returned to the couch.
Flopping on the cushions, he groaned in agony. He was definitely getting too old for this. They had to be rid of Carolanne, and soon.
~*~
Laura slowly wandered across the dim foyer of her mansion, lost in thought and still half-drunk with desire and satisfaction. Her mink cloak whispered behind her, polishing the already bright marble floors. She mounted the stairs, every step dragging, before she reached the landing and entered her bedroom.
Saul peeked around a parlor's door. "Coast's clear," he said out of the side of his mouth.
Kara's head pushed out beside his. "What's she doing getting in so late--dressed like that?" she asked.
Then, contemptuously, "Has she been out catting around on Mr. Adams?"
Saul glared down at her. "Never! More like they were stealing a few minutes in some back alley."
"That's not right either," protested Kara. "What about Zak's mother?"
"Oh, we're gonna take care of that woman," vowed Saul. "Let's get out of here. You just need the dawn's light to fly, right?"
"Yeah," Kara said, crossing the foyer with determined strides.
Saul stopped at the garage door. "You left Zak a note?"
"Sure," she said easily. "Said I had to go out for cigarettes and to expect me back sometime later."
Saul shrugged. "Good enough. Let's get Laird and get in the air."
He looked around the opulent but silent house one more time. "We gotta get Bill home," he said.
~*~
Emily carefully placed her notebook to one side and turned to face her employer, who once again had just exhaled a dramatic sigh tinged of martyrdom.
“Perhaps an early lunch might be a good idea,” Emily suggested tentatively.
“No, no,” Laura insisted, staring down at the audit she’d arranged to be done on the mining branch of the business after Tom Zarek’s departure. “If I keep busy, I might forget where I need to be this afternoon,” she admitted.
“Mr Adams--”
“Is out on his tugboat,” Laura said, making the odd note in the margin of the report, feigning complete concentration. “Working hard before he has to accompany Carolanne to the courthouse,” she added bitterly.
There was a rap on the door before Emily could broach the topic further. "Come," Laura said dully.
Zak entered her office. She pasted on a smile. "Oh, good morning," she greeted him.
"Good morning, Miss Roslin," he said.
"Please, call me Laura."
The young man looked uncomfortable. Laura blinked to force her thoughts back to the matters at hand--the wedding!
"Where's Kara?" they said in tandem.
"I thought she may be in here working on the plans," the young man said lamely.
Emily rolled her eyes behind his back.
"She's not in her room? Perhaps sleeping late," Laura suggested.
"No, I've looked all over the house."
"Have you checked with your brother?" Emily asked.
Laura gave her a pointed glare over Zak's shoulder as he turned to the secretary.
"Yes, he hasn't seen her," Zak said, oblivious to the silent conversation between the two women. "She left a note though--"
Laura stifled a sigh of exasperation. Why didn't he just say that? "What did it say?"
"That she was going out for cigarettes," Zak explained. "But that makes no sense." He looked around as though he expected his fiancee to pop up from behind the couch. "There's plenty of cigarettes here."
"If she left a note, than nothing nefarious has happened to her," Emily said soothingly, gently leading him to a chair. "But we can work on the wedding plans. It's only a week off."
She was trying not to panic. Between the groom's distracted state, the bride's lack of enthusiasm, and the little problem of two mothers of the groom, this whole thing was shaping up to be a complete mess.
Zak glanced at Laura's cluttered desk. "It looks as though you ladies are busy."
"Just getting ready for this silly board meeting coming up," Laura said, keeping her tone light.
Emily forced a smile, knowing she should change the subject--she wasn't sure the young man could be trusted. "Let's talk about the cake," she quickly said.
Laura made her way to the window. Carolanne would be here in her house for the wedding if they hadn't gotten rid of her by then. How would she be able to face that woman in her home, before all of their guests?
"Zak, will you be going to the courthouse later?" she asked.
The young man flushed red. "I--"
"You will want to be there for your mother, surely," Laura said stiffly.
He slouched in the leather chair and shoved his hands in his pockets, reminding her so much of Bill that tears pricked to her eyes. "I dunno, Miss--Laura. I think I should keep out of it."
She glanced at the clock. "I suppose I should eat something before changing."
"Yes, Mrs. Adams," said Emily briskly. "You must eat. Keep your strength up."
"You're going?" Zak said, surprised.
"Of course, Zak." Laura straightened the paperwork on her desk. "My marriage is ending."
Old Jaffee rapped on the door and when he entered, told Zak there was a call for him on the foyer phone.
The young man leapt up. "Kara!?"
"I couldn't say, sir," the butler said, "the caller is a lady, though."
After mumbling his apologies to Emily, Zak rushed from the room.
"Damn," Emily said in a very unladylike manner after Jaffee closed the door. "This wedding is never going to come off."
"Don't worry," Laura said, giving her secretary's arm a quick squeeze. "Love will conquer all."
Seeing her friend's sad eyes, Emily kept her bitter retort to herself and just patted Laura's hand in response.
~*~
Zak peeked around the apartment after his mother opened the door and staggered away without taking his hat and coat. He dropped them on the couch, and Carolanne noticed this.
"The maid's gone--again," she said disagreeably.
"It's okay," he said with a friendly smile.
She pressed a fine lawn handkerchief to her damp forehead. "Don't speak so loudly, Zachary," she said faintly.
He lowered his already pleasant tone. "Sure, Mother."
She wandered to the chair by the window; this had become the spot where she spent so many hours now that Bill told her that he would not accept the charges from the shops.
"Mother?"
"Yes, son?" Her unseeing gaze stared at the rooftops.
"You called me--"
"You don't want to spend time with your mother?" she said, her voice quavering.
Zak took a deep breath and perched on the couch's arm. "Of course, Mother. But I thought you wanted something. It's the first time you've called me since you returned."
"I cannot telephone that house," she hissed, "that woman's home! It was humiliating to make this call!"
"Would you feel more comfortable if I moved out?" he asked carefully. "I won't be there much longer--"
"Fine, choose her," Carolanne said abruptly. "I understand. Her money--"
"She hasn't given me a dime," he said tightly.
"Why shouldn't she? You deserve it." She turned to face him and her eyes were much more alert than he expected from her dragging tone.
"I don't deserve anything," he insisted. "I just met the woman--"
"You don't need your old mother," Carolanne moaned, bringing her handkerchief to her quivering lips. "She's taken my place; you don't need me anymore! You won't help me if I need it!"
"Of course I would!" But the young man couldn't even bring himself to cross the room and hug her.
Those sharp eyes pinned him down. "Show me."
"How?" He stumbled to his feet, deciding he should go to her.
She turned away but patted the arm of her chair for him to sit there. "Let me tell you how."
End ~ Chapter 18