interviews, it's only one step away from someone catching on to what you're up to. You might get away with this one, Kezia. But sooner or later ..."
"So you think I should hide forever?"
"You call this hiding?" He waved a hand demonstratively around the hallowed halls of La Caravelle.
"In a sense, yes."
"In the sense you mean, I think that's wise."
"And what about my life, Edward? What about that?"
"What about it? You have everything you want. Your friends, your comfort, and your writing. Could you possibly ask for more, except a husband?"
'That isn't on my list to Santa Claus anymore, darling. And yes, I could ask for more. Honesty."
"You're splitting hairs. And what you'd be risking for that kind of honesty would be your privacy. Remember the job you wanted so badly at the Times years ago?"
"That was different"
"How?"
"I was younger. And that wasn't a career, it was a job, and something I wanted to prove."
"Isn't this the same thing?"
"Maybe not Maybe it's a question of my sanity."
"Good Heavens, Kezia, don't be ridiculous. You're all wound up with whatever nonsense Simpson leveled at you this morning. Be reasonable, the man has a vested interest in you. He's looking at it from his point of view, not yours. For his benefit not yours."
But she knew that wasn't true. And what she also knew now was that Edward was afraid. Even more afraid than she was. But of what? And why? "Edward, no matter how you slice it, one of these days I'm going to have to make a choice."
"Over an interview for a magazine? An interview with some jailbird?" He wasn't afraid, he was terrified.
Kezia almost felt sorry for him as she realized what it was he so feared. She was slipping away from the last of his grasp.
"This interview really isn't the issue, Edward. We both know that. Even Simpson knows that."
"Then what in God's name is the issue? And why are you making all these strange noises about sanity and freedom and honesty? None of it makes any sense. Is someone in your lif e putting pressure on you?"
"No. Only myself."
"But there is someone in your life I don't know about, isn't there?"
"Yes." The honesty felt good. "I didn't know you expected to be kept informed of all my doings."
Edward looked away, embarrassed. "I just like to know that you're all right. That's alL I assumed that there was someone other than Whit"
Yes, darling, but did you assume why? Surely not "You're right there is."
"He's married?" He seemed matter-of-fact about it
"No."
"He isn't? I was rather sure he was."
"Why?"
"Because you're so ... well, discreet I suppose. I just assumed he was married, or something of the sort"
"Nothing of the sort. He's free, twenty-three years old, and an artist in SoHo." That ought to take Edward a while to digest. "And just for the record, I don't support him. He's on welfare and he loves it"
She was almost enjoying herself now and Edward looked as though he might have a fit of the vapors.
"Kezia!"
"Yes, Edward?" Her voice was pure sugar.
"And he knows who you are?"
"No, and he couldn't care less." She knew that wasn't entirely true, but she also knew he would never go to any trouble to snoop into the other side of her life. He was just curious in a boyish sort of way.
"Does Whit know about all this?"
"No. Why should he? I don't tell him about my lovers and he doesn't tell me about his. It's an even exchange. Besides, darling, Whitney prefers boys." She had not anticipated the look on Edward's face; it was not one of total astonishment
"Yes ... I ... I've heard. I wondered if you knew."
"I do." Their voices were quiet now.
"He told you?"
"No, someone else did."
"I'm sorry." He looked away and patted her hand.
"Don't be, Edward. It didn't matter to me. That sounds like a harsh thing to say, but Fve never been in love with Whit. We're merely a convenience to each other. That's not very pretty to admit, but it's a fact."
"And this other man—the artist—is it serious?"
"No, it's pleasant, and easy, and
"So you think I should hide forever?"
"You call this hiding?" He waved a hand demonstratively around the hallowed halls of La Caravelle.
"In a sense, yes."
"In the sense you mean, I think that's wise."
"And what about my life, Edward? What about that?"
"What about it? You have everything you want. Your friends, your comfort, and your writing. Could you possibly ask for more, except a husband?"
'That isn't on my list to Santa Claus anymore, darling. And yes, I could ask for more. Honesty."
"You're splitting hairs. And what you'd be risking for that kind of honesty would be your privacy. Remember the job you wanted so badly at the Times years ago?"
"That was different"
"How?"
"I was younger. And that wasn't a career, it was a job, and something I wanted to prove."
"Isn't this the same thing?"
"Maybe not Maybe it's a question of my sanity."
"Good Heavens, Kezia, don't be ridiculous. You're all wound up with whatever nonsense Simpson leveled at you this morning. Be reasonable, the man has a vested interest in you. He's looking at it from his point of view, not yours. For his benefit not yours."
But she knew that wasn't true. And what she also knew now was that Edward was afraid. Even more afraid than she was. But of what? And why? "Edward, no matter how you slice it, one of these days I'm going to have to make a choice."
"Over an interview for a magazine? An interview with some jailbird?" He wasn't afraid, he was terrified.
Kezia almost felt sorry for him as she realized what it was he so feared. She was slipping away from the last of his grasp.
"This interview really isn't the issue, Edward. We both know that. Even Simpson knows that."
"Then what in God's name is the issue? And why are you making all these strange noises about sanity and freedom and honesty? None of it makes any sense. Is someone in your lif e putting pressure on you?"
"No. Only myself."
"But there is someone in your life I don't know about, isn't there?"
"Yes." The honesty felt good. "I didn't know you expected to be kept informed of all my doings."
Edward looked away, embarrassed. "I just like to know that you're all right. That's alL I assumed that there was someone other than Whit"
Yes, darling, but did you assume why? Surely not "You're right there is."
"He's married?" He seemed matter-of-fact about it
"No."
"He isn't? I was rather sure he was."
"Why?"
"Because you're so ... well, discreet I suppose. I just assumed he was married, or something of the sort"
"Nothing of the sort. He's free, twenty-three years old, and an artist in SoHo." That ought to take Edward a while to digest. "And just for the record, I don't support him. He's on welfare and he loves it"
She was almost enjoying herself now and Edward looked as though he might have a fit of the vapors.
"Kezia!"
"Yes, Edward?" Her voice was pure sugar.
"And he knows who you are?"
"No, and he couldn't care less." She knew that wasn't entirely true, but she also knew he would never go to any trouble to snoop into the other side of her life. He was just curious in a boyish sort of way.
"Does Whit know about all this?"
"No. Why should he? I don't tell him about my lovers and he doesn't tell me about his. It's an even exchange. Besides, darling, Whitney prefers boys." She had not anticipated the look on Edward's face; it was not one of total astonishment
"Yes ... I ... I've heard. I wondered if you knew."
"I do." Their voices were quiet now.
"He told you?"
"No, someone else did."
"I'm sorry." He looked away and patted her hand.
"Don't be, Edward. It didn't matter to me. That sounds like a harsh thing to say, but Fve never been in love with Whit. We're merely a convenience to each other. That's not very pretty to admit, but it's a fact."
"And this other man—the artist—is it serious?"
"No, it's pleasant, and easy, and
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