Honeymoon

Chapter 46

NORA RETURNED to Manhattan late the following afternoon. She missed her loft apartment, the comfort and quiet of it, the things she’d bought for herself over the years. She missed what she considered her real life.

While she drew herself a bath, she listened to her messages. She’d been checking them periodically while away. There were four new ones. The first three were work-related, bitchy clients. The final one was from Brian Stewart, her first-class companion to Boston, the Brad Pitt look-alike.

The message was short and sweet, the kind she liked. Brian expressed how much he enjoyed meeting her and how he looked forward to seeing her again. “I should be back in the city by the end of the week and I’d love to take you out for a night on the town. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

If you insist, Brian.

Nora took her hot bath. Afterward, she ordered in Chinese and sorted through her mail. Before the eleven o’clock news ended, she was sound asleep on the couch, sleeping like a baby. And she slept late.

Just before noon the next day, Nora strolled into Hargrove & Sons on the Upper East Side. Personally, she thought the place was beyond stuffy, with many of the sales staff seemingly older than the antiques they were peddling. But the store was a favorite of her client, longtime film producer Dale Minton, and he had insisted on meeting her there.

Nora browsed on her own for a few minutes. After walking by yet another plaid sofa, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“It is you, Olivia!”

The overly excited man standing before her was Steven Keppler—middle-aged, midtown tax attorney with a bad comb-over.

“Uh… hi,” said Nora. She quickly flipped through her mental Rolodex and came up with his name. “How are you, Steven?”

“I’m great, Olivia. You know, I was calling out your name. You didn’t hear me?”

She played it cool. “Oh, that’s so typical of me. The more I shop, the less I can hear what’s going on around me.”

Steven laughed and let it go. As he launched into his “fancy meeting you here” small talk, Nora remembered his ogling tendencies. How could she forget? Sure enough, his eyes were beginning to drool. Do eyes drool? Well, Keppler’s did. Meanwhile, she was keeping one eye on the entrance for Dale. This could be a disaster in the making.

“So, Olivia, are you shopping for yourself, or a client?” asked Steven.

“A client,” she said, looking at her watch.

That’s when she saw him. Dale Minton was waltzing through the front door that very second, looking as if he owned the place. He certainly could have, if he wanted to.

“Oh, there he is now,” she said. She tried not to panic, but the image of Dale calling her Nora with Steven looking on, and vice versa, was fraying her nerves.

“I’ll let you do your business,” he said. “Just promise me I can take you out to dinner sometime.” The guy certainly was an opportunist. He knew what she knew, that yes was a much quicker answer. No would’ve required making an excuse.

“Yes,” said Nora. “That would be nice. Call me.”

“I will. I’m on vacation beginning next week, but when I get back, I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

Steven Keppler turned to go with Dale still a few feet away. It was close, but she dodged a bullet. Then…

“It was good seeing you, Olivia,” called Steven loudly.

Nora gave him a weak smile and glanced at Dale, who looked thoroughly confused. “Did that man just call you Olivia?” he asked.

Nora prayed to the goddess of quick thinking. She delivered. Nora leaned into Dale with a whisper. “I met him at a party a few months back. I told him I was Olivia—for obvious reasons.”

Dale nodded, no longer confused, and Nora smiled. Her two lives remained safely apart.

For now, anyway.