At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories)(79)

"Can you do us up another one for tomorrow?"

He raised his hands and took a step back. "Hey, I'm not looking to take over Mary's job, Doheny. I'm on the other team, remember."

"I was talking with Mary's husband and it doesn't sound like she'll be back any time soon."

"Fine," Noah said. "We'll pull over Eileen or Gregory from the Lifestyle section. I've seen their work. Maybe we could rotate their columns."

"They're both maxed out. Besides, Eileen's going out on maternity leave next week."

"Let me level with you," Noah said as the two men stepped into Doheny's cubicle. "I'm not looking to be a columnist at the Gazette. I have my own job back in London and as soon as we can get this thing sold, I'll be going back to it."

"Great," said Doheny, looking under-enthused, "but that doesn't change things. You want top dollar, you need a strong circulation. It's that simple."

Just hold the fort, Doheny said. Give them a few column inches until they could plug in a replacement for Ann Levine. Noah reluctantly agreed. He'd poured a lot of drivel out onto his keyboard and called it a column. When it came out tomorrow and the cries of outrage from subscribers reached Doheny's ears, he'd see who was right.

He spent the rest of the day in conference with the money men. For a moment, when they talked about the Gazette's illustrious past, he had experienced grave misgivings about the entire process. The Gazette might not look like much at the moment, but there had been a time when it had commanded worldwide respect and, strangely enough, that respect had been largely the result of his father's folksy but powerful editorials. Simon's anti-Vietnam War views had been shocking in those days, the years before even Walter Cronkite was voicing an opinion against the slaughter. Simon had stood alone for peace and he had been noticed. The Gazette office had been fire-bombed twice. Simon had received numerous threats against his life. At one point he had apparently sent Ruth away for her own safety. But still he clung to his beliefs and in time the rest of the country came to see it his way.

The thought of allowing the Gazette to pass out of family hands didn't sit well with Noah and he wasn't quite sure why. He had loved and respected his father but he hadn't liked him very much at the end. There had been a terrible bitterness at the core of Simon's soul, and by the time of his death, that bitterness had spread to his family. Simon had lived a life of privilege and accomplishment. It was difficult to see what he had to be bitter about. There was only one battle he had lost in his sixty-two years of life and that was the battle for the heart of Mona Taylor. You wouldn't think Simon Chase had been the kind of man to carry a forty-two year old torch.

Then again maybe father and son were more alike than Noah cared to admit. Any illusions he might have had about being over Gracie had gone up in flames this morning when he kissed her. Hell, his illusions had vanished even before that, when he'd seen her standing there in the lobby of the Gazette in that enormous coat of hers.

She had never had any clothes sense at all. Her clothes had always been an afterthought, an idiosyncratic assemblage of whatever she happened to grab from her closet. He had always loved that about her. She was utterly without vanity when it came to the way she looked. She had no idea how beautiful she was. Not pretty, but beautiful. Noah was very clear about the difference. The sleek line of her hair in the rain, the curve of her hip, her endless legs. Her wit, her intelligence, her drive. She had grown from an attractive girl into the kind of woman who caught your eye and kept it. There were so many layers to her appeal that a man could spend the rest of his life discovering them.

He loved her. He hated her. He wanted her. He hated himself for wanting her. There was no future for them. Even this morning when he was crazed for the touch and smell of her, he knew that but somehow it didn't matter. He could have lived the rest of his life without seeing her again but now that he had, he didn't know how he could bear to lose her a second time.

The thing to do was lie low until after Ben and Laquita's wedding If he confined himself to the Gazette and caring for Sophie he would be okay. When they swept up the last of the orange blossoms and rice, Gracie would go back to New York where she belonged and once the Gazette was sold, he and Sophie would return to London and it would be like none of this had ever happened. His future wasn't here. It never had been. Not without Gracie..

If he never saw Gracie's face again, he just might be able to find a way to live without her.