A Different Kind of Forever(35)

Now Diane looked surprised. “For what?”

Angela shrugged. “Well, I’m not quite so worried now.”

Diane smiled and left.





Diane spent all evening trying to decide what would be the best time to call Michael. She finally settled on 9:30, giving her a little over an hour to work before calling. She settled at her desk, proofreading her final exam questions, when the phone rang and it was Michael.

“Look, I’m sorry to call, I know you told me not to, but I just talked to Angie and she said you stopped by and got my number, so I figured you’d changed you mind and here I am. Is that okay?” He said it in a breathless rush, sounding very young.

“Yes, of course.” Diane grinned happily. “So tell me all about Gordon Prescott.”

Prescott was a maniac and a genius, he told her. There had been meetings, screenings, dailies and more meetings, with the producer, the man who would do the orchestration, the second choice to do the orchestration, the assistant director, all of the actors. It was madness. She sat, curled into the corner of the couch, Jasper on her lap. When they finally hung up, it was too late for her to do any work, but she didn’t care. She spent Friday in a panic. Michael was picking her up at six-thirty. What if Kevin was late picking up the girls? She needed to shower and get ready. She didn’t know what to wear. She felt fifteen.

“I’m a total mess,” she said miserably to Marianne Thomas. “I can’t believe I am being so pathetic.”

Marianne looked at Diane. “Yes, I agree, you are being pathetic. But at least he’s single. Remember Quinn Harris?”

“Oh, God,” Diane said quickly. “Quinn.” Quinn Harris had breezed onto the Franklin-Merriweather campus two years before, a visiting professor from London. He was England’s most sought-after theatrical director, married to a talented and flamboyant English actress. He had been invited by Franklin-Merriweather to teach a Master class. Because Diane’s play had just been embraced by Sam French, she had been invited to the cocktail party welcoming Quinn Harris. There had been an instant attraction. Quinn Harris was not conventionally handsome. Tall, slight, a few years older than Diane, he was soft-spoken man of intellect and quiet charm. He was as close to her ideal man as she could have imagined. They went out several times, and she found in him a kindred spirit. But he was married. She would not sleep with him. She had stopped seeing him.

“I always admired you for how you handled that whole thing,” Marianne said, spearing a piece of chicken. The two women were having lunch. “A lot of women would not have cared about the wife.”

Diane sighed and pushed around her pasta salad with her fork. “He would have broken my heart.”

“He’s divorced now,” Marianne said.

“Yes, well, he told me the marriage was over.” Diane shrugged. “What did you expect? They were both sleeping around like crazy.”

“I don’t know about that. He never went after anyone else after you froze him out, and believe me, plenty were trying.”

Diane smiled. “Yes, he was something else.” She took a deep breath. “Michael is something else too.”

“So, are you perfect for each other? Are we talking happily ever after?”

“No, actually, we’re not. Perfect for each other I mean. He hates traveling.”

“Oh, no.” Marianne stared at Diane. “But that’s what you do best.”

“I know. And he hates cities. And he wants to retire to Montana so he can live miles away from everybody.”

“Well, don’t take that too seriously. Didn’t we all want that, at that age? I wanted to herd sheep in Wyoming, if I remember correctly. But I was young and stupid. I outgrew it.” Marianne waved her hand. “So will he.”

“He’s apparently bought about five hundred acres somewhere outside Butte. He wants to ride horses and watch the sun set.”

“Oh, how boring.” Marianne looked at Diane closely. “This could seriously dampen the entire happily-ever-after aspect of this relationship.”

Diane laughed. “I haven’t looked that far ahead. I think he’s a lot of fun, and I have the major hots for his body. Does that count as a relationship?”

“Close enough.” Marianne looked fondly at her friend. “You look happy. Your whole face is lit up. You deserve somebody wonderful. So where are you going?”

“Dinner again. Last time, we went to Marco’s.”