Best Friends Forever

For two days, moving vans came and went. On Thursday, luggage was loaded, lunches were packed and a Mercedes 600 and a SUV with Texas plates drove out of the driveway toward home. I hadn’t been to bed for twenty-four hours. I went home, soaked in a hot bath and crawled into my own bed for a well deserved good night’s sleep. Now that I had a moment to think about it, I was a little envious of Catharine being on the French Riviera with Dwight. Richard went to Monte Carlo for the royal wedding of his “dear friend” actress Grace Kelly, when she married Prince Rainier and became Hollywood’s first princess and he said that the Casino de Monte-Carlo, designed by Charles Garnier, the architect of the opera house in Paris, turned Europe’s poorest country into a premier destination for high society. With that fantasy, I drifted off to sleep …”

The demanding ringing of the phone woke me out of a numbed sleep and as I clumsily groped for it, I saw the clock and foggily realized that I had only been sleeping for two hours.

I probably said, “Hello?”

A familiar voice said, “I’ll be home tonight and I’ll call you then.” Click.

“What?” I couldn’t comprehend. I couldn’t even be sure that Catharine had called. I put the phone back in its cradle, crawled back down under the covers and dropped off into a drugged-like deep sleep listening for the phone to ring again. I slept for ten hours, struggled to my feet, puttered around, whipped up a cheddar cheese omelet, checked the mail, made a second pot of coffee, and just as the sun was setting, the call came.

A cheerful Catharine chirped, “Hi.”

“Where are you and what happened?”

“I’m back in Houston because he put his hand between my legs.”

“I beg your pardon! Was he drunk? I can’t imagine that he would do something like that! Tell me what happened!”

“We spent the night at the Waldorf in New York and then left the following morning for Monte Carlo. We stayed at the Hotel de Paris and had separate suites as he promised. To accommodate the adjustment to the time change and flight, there was nothing scheduled until cocktails in his suite with his publicists and a few guests at seven o’clock. From there we were to go to a dinner party at the Fairmont Monte Carlo. The next night was the annual Monte Carlo Red Cross Ball at the Sporting Club where Prince Rainier, all of the Grimaldi royals and a thousand guests were expected. There were other parties planned but I can’t remember what.”

Catharine paused as if preoccupied and I impatiently coaxed, “And …?”

The silence continued. “And?” I repeated. The suspense was killing me.

Catharine was reticent in the retelling but she knew that I wanted and deserved the details.

“I wore the ruby satin Guy Laroche with the décolleté and my ruby and diamond necklace. I was feeling pretty and looking forward to the evening. I arrived at his door about fifteen minutes before the guests were expected. He opened the door with one hand and had the phone in the other. He smiled at me in appreciation, returned to the desk, signaled that he was almost finished and motioned for me to sit down. I walked outside on the balcony and enjoyed the beautiful view of the star-studded sky and the lights reflected in the water. He hurriedly finished the conversation and sat looking at me, as I came back into the room.

“You look absolutely beautiful. I’m so glad that you are here with me.”

He walked toward me and tried to kiss me. As I gently put my hand on his chest to push him away, he put his hand up under my skirt and between my legs. As if on cue, the doorbell rang and the guests began to arrive.”

“And …?”

“The party was extraordinary and I’m sure that I was introduced to some interesting and important people but I couldn’t name one of them because I was preoccupied with the preceding events and concerned about the post-party bail-out.”

“And …?”

“After dinner, some of the guests returned with Dwight to his suite for a nightcap, so it was simple to make an excuse of having jet-lag and retiring to my suite to rest. I certainly didn’t want to be alone with him again. I booked a flight to Houston for the next morning and immediately called Dwight to tell him how very sorry I was but I had found a phone message that there was an emergency with my son and had to return to Texas immediately. I didn’t say what the emergency because I was afraid that my lie might come true.”

“What did he say?”

He curtly replied, “I will see that your air fare is reimbursed.”

“That’s all? That’s all he said? Have you told Richard?”

“Yes. He said that I’m finished socially in Beverly Hills. Dwight will blackball me with everyone. There is no telling what he told them in Monte Carlo or what tales he will tell in Beverly Hills. The fact that I’ve moved back to Texas for a while is fortuitous, but it will be hard to get reestablished when I come back. He may say that I’m a fake, or have lost my fortune or who knows what.”

“Are you sure that you did the right thing? Should you try and smooth it over or ask Richard to call Dwight and intervene on your behalf?”

“No! He’s a lecherous old man, with the emphasis on “old.” I don’t care what it costs me, I couldn’t stand him touching me. I did the right thing and I would do it over again.”

“May I have him?”

“Why do you want him?”

“I find him attractive and exciting. He’s lived a life that I can only imagine and his lifestyle is my dream come true. And if that isn’t enough, he’s in a nesting mode. So…may I have him?”

“By all means. Let’s think about how we can manage this. I have a meeting that I’m running late for but let’s set a time to have coffee by phone tomorrow to talk about it.”