I've Got You Under My Skin

25

“So other than that, how did the day go?” Leo asked. He and Laurie were having a late dinner together at Neary’s, their longtime favorite restaurant on East Fifty-seventh Street. It was half past eight, and Laurie was visibly tired. She had just described the breakfast and Nina Craig’s fainting spell to him, then Nina’s reactions to her mother.

“It actually went all right,” Laurie said wearily.

“Just all right?” Leo tried to sound casual as he reached for his glass and took another sip of wine.

“No, I should say it went well,” Laurie said slowly. “We open with a view of the house as though we’re coming down the driveway. Alex Buckley was definitely the right choice for narrator. Then we show some tape of the Graduation Gala from twenty years back with the four graduates, none of them looking particularly happy.”

“How about Betsy Powell? Do you have much film of her interacting with the graduates?”

“Not that much,” Laurie admitted. “Most of the frames with her show her with her husband or talking to other adults-not that the graduates were kids,” she added hastily. “They were all twenty-one or twenty-two. But they were hardly ever with Betsy. We ran through the tapes with them today. I think they were all uncomfortable. Tomorrow we film them watching the excerpt we’ll use on camera, then Alex starts talking with them about the Gala.”

She sighed. “It sure has been a long day, and I’m starved. What about you?”

“I’m ready to eat,” Leo admitted.

“What did you do all day now that your buddy is in camp, Dad?”

Leo was prepared for the question. “Nothing much,” he said, biting his tongue over the lie. “The gym, picked up a couple of sport shirts at Bloomingdale’s, nothing fancy.” He hadn’t meant to say it but involuntarily he added, “I miss Timmy, and it’s only his first day away.”

“Me, too,” Laurie said fervently, “but I’m glad I let him go. He was looking forward to it so much. And as much as we miss him, he sounded great on the phone an hour ago.”

“I don’t know why they limit those kids to one phone call a day,” Leo grumbled. “Haven’t they heard about grandparents?”

Laurie realized that her father suddenly looked drawn and gray.

“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.

“I’m fine.”

“Dad, I should have thought to get home in time to share Timmy’s call with you. I promise I will tomorrow.”

They both sat thoughtfully, each with their own feelings about Timmy being so far away and without Leo’s careful supervision.

Laurie glanced around the room. As usual, virtually every table was filled. The conversations were lively, and everyone looked as if they were having a good time. Are they all as free from stress as they seem to be? she wondered.

Of course they’re not, she told herself. Scratch the surface and everyone has some sort of problem.

Then, determined not to voice her fear about Timmy, Laurie said, “I’m having liver and bacon tonight. Timmy doesn’t like it, and I love it.”

“I’ll join you,” Leo decided and waved away the menu when a smiling Mary, one of Neary’s longtime waitresses, approached them.

“We both know what we want, Mary,” he said.

Peace of mind, was Laurie’s immediate thought. And that’s not in the cards for us now, or maybe ever.

They were finally all gone. By the end of the day Jane could tell that Mr. Powell was sick of his “guests.”

The minute the last car drove away he walked into the den, and Jane followed to ask if he wanted a cocktail.

“Jane, you read my mind,” he said. “A scotch. And make it a strong one.”

For dinner she had planned his favorite meal of salmon, asparagus, a green salad, and sherbet with fresh pineapple.

When he was home he liked to eat at eight o’clock in the small dining room. But tonight he did not finish his dinner, nor did he pay his usual compliment about how good it was. Instead he said, “I’m not very hungry, skip dessert.” Then he got up and retreated back into the den.

Jane had the table cleared and the kitchen in its usual shining order in just a few minutes.

Then she went upstairs, turned down his bed, adjusted the air conditioner to sixty-five degrees, and placed a carafe of water and a glass on the night table.

Finally she laid out his pajamas, robe, and slippers, her hands moving tenderly over the clothing as she hung it in his bathroom.

Some nights when Mr. Powell was home he sat in the den for a couple of hours, watching television or reading. He enjoyed classic movies, and the next morning would comment to her about them. “Watched two of the Alfred Hitchcocks, Jane. No one could do suspense the way he did.”

If he had had a hard day at the office, he would go directly upstairs after dinner, get changed, and read or watch television in the sitting room of his suite.

Other nights he invited six or eight people for cocktails and dinner.

It was a predictable pattern, making Jane’s job quite easy.

The evenings that worried her were those when he went out and she saw in his appointment book that he was taking a woman to the club.

But that didn’t happen very often, and he seldom saw the same woman more than two or three times.

All this was going through Jane’s mind as she completed the nightly ritual.

Jane’s final task of the day, when Mr. Powell was home alone, was to look in on him and see if there was anything else he needed before she retired to her apartment.

Tonight he was sitting in the big chair in his den, his feet on the hassock, his elbows on the arms of the chair, his hands folded. The television was not on, and there was no sign of a book or magazine next to him.

“Are you all right, Mr. Powell?” she asked him anxiously.

“Just thinking, Jane,” he said as he turned to face her. “I assume all the bedrooms are fresh?”

Jane tried not to bristle with annoyance at the suggestion that any room in the house wasn’t in perfect order. “Of course they are, sir,” she said.

“Well, just recheck them. As you know, I have asked all of the participants to stay overnight tomorrow night. We will have a celebratory brunch before we send them on their way.”

He raised his eyebrows and smiled a secretive smile that he did not share with Jane.

“That should be very interesting, don’t you think, Jane?”