Do you need anything else? Can I call someone for you? A relative? Your friend who picked you up a few weeks ago—what was his name? Carl?”
“No. I mean, yes, his name is Carl. But we’re not…I broke up with him.”
Michael paused as he considered that, and Violet felt sure herdeclaration had embarrassed him somehow. He had probably thought that as long as she was unavailable it was okay to be alone in the bedroom with her. But now that he knew she was unattached, it changed everything.
She waited for him to speak, and all he managed to utter was a single syllable.
“Ah.”
Ah? What on earth did that mean? Violet pulled her legs out from under the covers and swung them around the side of the bed. Now it was her turn to say something.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for taking care of me like this. You’ve been so helpful, but I don’t want to keep you.”
Violet rose slowly to be sure she had regained her strength. Then she walked him to the front door, thanked him again, and told him she would see him next week at class.
“And at Mariana’s opening?” he asked.
“I’ll try.”
He smiled and took one step out the door but paused, turning back to her. “And Violet?” he said. “I’m glad you’re not seeing Carl anymore.”
Then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.
Now Violet really did feel feverish. She stood in the middle of the foyer and replayed his parting words. What did he mean? Was he saying he was interested in her? Or was he simply observing, in a paternal way, that Carl wasn’t good for her?
That had to be it. It had to be.
And if it wasn’t? Surely, any interest on his part could be tied to those few moments Dorothy Parker was steering the ship. Now that she thought about that, an indignation took root. Why had her mentor done such a thing? The longer Violet stood there considering it, the angrier she got. The nerve of her!
The Algonquin guest book, which Michael had apparently closed, was still in the dining room. Violet brought it into the study, opened it, and stood back. She was too agitated to even sit.
“I could use a drink,” Mrs. Parker said, when she materialized.
“Is that all you have to say? After what you did?”
“Didn’t work, eh?”
“Excuse me?” Violet said.
“We didn’t succeed in getting that luscious creature into your bedroom?”
“As a matter of fact, he did wind up in my bedroom. But no, we didn’t sleep together.”
“Pity.”
“You humiliated me!” Violet said.
“Oh, come, now,” Mrs. Parker said. “All I did was offer the dear boy some encouragement.”
“Don’t ever do that again,” Violet said. “Don’t ever enter me again without my permission. That was terrible, awful. Just completely out of bounds.”
“Fine. But may I remind you that you were making a spectacle of yourself
before
I entered you? You were blubbering like a child…and you weren’t even drunk.”
“I know,” Violet said. “But all you did was pile one humiliation on top of another.”
“Did it work at all? Did he express an interest?”
Violet looked away. “I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
Violet didn’t want to talk about it. She asked Mrs. Parker if she still wanted that drink.
“You can assume, my dear, that the answer to that question is always yes.”
Violet left to make the cocktail, and Mrs. Parker called out after her, “You may wind up thanking me!”
“Unlikely!” Violet shouted back.
When she returned with her guest’s drink, Mrs. Parker asked what she knew about Michael.
“Not a lot,” Violet confessed. “I know he’s an ex-Marine. I think he served in the Gulf War, but he doesn’t like to talk about it. He loves martial arts, and always wanted to run his own studio, so when he got out of the service he got a job teaching kung fu and eventually bought out the owner.”
“The man knows what he wants. I like that. What else?”
“He has a kid—a daughter. I’m not sure if he was ever
“No. I mean, yes, his name is Carl. But we’re not…I broke up with him.”
Michael paused as he considered that, and Violet felt sure herdeclaration had embarrassed him somehow. He had probably thought that as long as she was unavailable it was okay to be alone in the bedroom with her. But now that he knew she was unattached, it changed everything.
She waited for him to speak, and all he managed to utter was a single syllable.
“Ah.”
Ah? What on earth did that mean? Violet pulled her legs out from under the covers and swung them around the side of the bed. Now it was her turn to say something.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for taking care of me like this. You’ve been so helpful, but I don’t want to keep you.”
Violet rose slowly to be sure she had regained her strength. Then she walked him to the front door, thanked him again, and told him she would see him next week at class.
“And at Mariana’s opening?” he asked.
“I’ll try.”
He smiled and took one step out the door but paused, turning back to her. “And Violet?” he said. “I’m glad you’re not seeing Carl anymore.”
Then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.
Now Violet really did feel feverish. She stood in the middle of the foyer and replayed his parting words. What did he mean? Was he saying he was interested in her? Or was he simply observing, in a paternal way, that Carl wasn’t good for her?
That had to be it. It had to be.
And if it wasn’t? Surely, any interest on his part could be tied to those few moments Dorothy Parker was steering the ship. Now that she thought about that, an indignation took root. Why had her mentor done such a thing? The longer Violet stood there considering it, the angrier she got. The nerve of her!
The Algonquin guest book, which Michael had apparently closed, was still in the dining room. Violet brought it into the study, opened it, and stood back. She was too agitated to even sit.
“I could use a drink,” Mrs. Parker said, when she materialized.
“Is that all you have to say? After what you did?”
“Didn’t work, eh?”
“Excuse me?” Violet said.
“We didn’t succeed in getting that luscious creature into your bedroom?”
“As a matter of fact, he did wind up in my bedroom. But no, we didn’t sleep together.”
“Pity.”
“You humiliated me!” Violet said.
“Oh, come, now,” Mrs. Parker said. “All I did was offer the dear boy some encouragement.”
“Don’t ever do that again,” Violet said. “Don’t ever enter me again without my permission. That was terrible, awful. Just completely out of bounds.”
“Fine. But may I remind you that you were making a spectacle of yourself
before
I entered you? You were blubbering like a child…and you weren’t even drunk.”
“I know,” Violet said. “But all you did was pile one humiliation on top of another.”
“Did it work at all? Did he express an interest?”
Violet looked away. “I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
Violet didn’t want to talk about it. She asked Mrs. Parker if she still wanted that drink.
“You can assume, my dear, that the answer to that question is always yes.”
Violet left to make the cocktail, and Mrs. Parker called out after her, “You may wind up thanking me!”
“Unlikely!” Violet shouted back.
When she returned with her guest’s drink, Mrs. Parker asked what she knew about Michael.
“Not a lot,” Violet confessed. “I know he’s an ex-Marine. I think he served in the Gulf War, but he doesn’t like to talk about it. He loves martial arts, and always wanted to run his own studio, so when he got out of the service he got a job teaching kung fu and eventually bought out the owner.”
“The man knows what he wants. I like that. What else?”
“He has a kid—a daughter. I’m not sure if he was ever
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