Envy(57)

“I have a meeting with Howard, and you know what a stickler he is about punctuality.” Howard Bancroft was Matherly Press’s chief counsel and head of the legal department. “If I’m a nanosecond late, he’ll stay miffed for days.”

“What’s the meeting about?”

“I can’t recall off the top of my head. Something to do with one of our foreign licensees, I believe.”

“I hate to get you on Howard’s bad side,” she said, “but there is something else I wanted to talk about.”

He had to work at keeping the impatience out of his voice. “Then I’ll take the time. What’s on your mind?”

“Is Dad all right?”

“Seems to be. I saw him last evening and talked to him again this morning.”

“He came into the office?”

“No, he called to ask if I could muddle through without him today. I urged him to take off not only today but the remainder of the week. You’re not here, so we haven’t any scheduled meetings that I can’t handle alone. It’s an ideal time for him to take it easy.”

“He’ll get bored.”

“Actually he’s got a fairly heavy schedule. He said he planned to spend the morning at his desk at home to handle some personal chores, then he was having a late lunch with an old crony. They were meeting at the Four Seasons.”

“Lunch with an old crony,” she repeated absently. “I hope he doesn’t drink too much wine.”

“He’s certainly earned the right to have a few glasses of wine at lunch if he wants them, Maris.”

“I know, but I worry about him negotiating the stairs at home. With that weakness in his joints—”

“He needs full command of his equilibrium. I see your point.”

“When someone his age falls and breaks a hip, they sometimes never completely recover. He couldn’t abide being bedridden.”

“I’ll ask Maxine to keep a closer eye on him.”

“No! That would start World War Three,” she exclaimed. “He’ll get mad at her for babying him, and then he’ll get mad at me for asking her to.”

“Another good point,” he said. “How about…”

“What?”

“Well, I was going to suggest that I talk to him about it. Caution him confidentially. Man to man.”

“Yes,” she said, sounding relieved. “I like that plan much better.”

“Then I’ll go over this evening and have a chat with him.”

“Thank you, Noah.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else?”

“Why?”

“Howard’s waiting on me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. I shouldn’t have kept you.”

“Nonsense. This was important.” He wanted to end the call quickly, but he didn’t want to leave her worrying over Daniel. Concern might bring her rushing back. “Maris, don’t worry about Daniel,” he said tenderly. “He’s a tough old bird, stronger than we give him credit for. There’s really no cause for alarm. If anything, over the past few days he’s seemed more like his old self. Full of piss and vinegar.”

“I’m sure you’re right. It’s just that when I’m not with him, my imagination gets away from me and I start worrying.”

“Unnecessarily, I assure you. Now, forgive me, but I really must run.”

“Apologize to Howard for me. Tell him it’s all my fault that you’re late.”

“Don’t worry. I will.” He chuckled. “ ’Bye, now.”

“Noah,” she added just before he disconnected, “I love you.”

For a moment, he was taken aback. Then, in the absentminded way of a devoted but preoccupied husband, he replied, “I love you, too, darling.”

Professions of love meant nothing to him. They were sequences of words without any relevance. He’d told many a woman that he loved her, but only when trying to woo her into bed. He’d vocally expressed his love for Maris when they were courting because it was expected. He’d vowed his love for her in order to win her father’s blessing on their marriage, and he’d played the expressive newlywed husband to the hilt. But in the last several months his avowals had become increasingly infrequent.

By contrast, Maris had an affectionate nature. She was touchy-feely to an irritating degree. She declared her love at least once a day, and while he’d become accustomed to hearing it, he still felt no connection to the sentiment.

But this most recent profession of love gave him pause. It wasn’t the words themselves that had been curious, but the manner in which she’d spoken them. It had sounded to him almost as though she were trying to reestablish, either in his mind or her own, that she loved him. Had the surprise anniversary party failed to reassure her of his devotion? Did she still suspect him of infidelity?

As he breezed past Bancroft’s assistant with barely a nod and entered the counsel’s private office, the exchange with Maris lingered on his mind. It had raised questions that required further thought. Her “I love you” had been declared with an undercurrent of desperation. He must determine what, if anything, that signified.

One thing was certain: She would not be proclaiming her love for him if she knew the contents of the folder he carried into the lawyer’s office with him.