hours she’d be on her way to the airport with Mr Wonderful. She told herself sternly that she’d have to stop thinking of him in that way but couldn’t quite manage it yet. ‘Michael,’ she whispered. ‘Michael.’ She thought that Joan glanced at her but she ignored it.
At a little after three, she got a call. To her complete surprise it was Abigail Samuels. ‘I wonder if you could come to my office for a moment?’ Abigail asked. Claire agreed, hung up the phone and her heart sank. Of course, there would be some policy or other that this was breaking and she wouldn’t be allowed to make the trip. She should have known.
She told Joan that she’d been called to Miss Samuels’s office, got up and walked down the hall. Joan’s face, never pleasant, now had a pinched look around the mouth and there was a vertical line on her forehead, slightly off-center, that humped her left brow. Claire could see Joan hadn’t been born ugly, but by fifty she’d have the face she deserved. She supposed she would, too.
As she crossed the reception area Michael Wainwright was walking in from what Claire figured was a long lunch. ‘Hey,’ he said, a big smile crossing his face and his voice bright and cheery. ‘I meant to call you, but I’ve had the morning from hell and the lunch that matched.’
Claire felt the eyes of the receptionist, Maggie, on her back and had no idea what to say. She just smiled.
‘You all ready?’
Claire nodded.
‘Great. I figured we leave at about seven. Why don’t you wait in my office?’
‘Sure,’ Claire said. ‘I have to go now,’ she added. ‘I was called to Mr Crayden, Senior’s office.’
Michael Wainwright raised his eyebrows. ‘Movin’ up in the world,’ he said and smiled before he turned in the opposite direction.
On her walk down the corridor, Claire wondered at his completely casual greeting. She was flustered, embarrassed, tongue-tied and her heart was racing. To him, it seemed, this was business as usual. And it is, she told herself. He goes off on trips with different women all the time. Remember that. She calmed herself down and got to the corner office. Abigail Samuels’s door was open. But Claire knocked on it before she put her head in.
‘Oh, come in,’ Abigail said and stood. Her office was small but, being next to Mr Crayden, Senior’s, it had a windowed wall and even a small sofa. ‘You’re leaving tonight, I think,’ Abigail said.
Claire nodded. She felt as if every single person in the office was spending their day thinking about her night.
‘Well, I just wanted to wish you well and give you this.’ Abigail took a small wrapped parcel out of her top drawer and handed it to Claire. ‘It’s a guidebook to London,’ Abigail explained. ‘It’s one of my favorite cities. I took the liberty of marking and underlining the places you should be sure to see; some of them are a bit off the beaten track but they’re well worth while.’
Claire looked at the older woman. She couldn’t imagine why Abigail was doing this, but she was touched and deeply grateful.
‘I used to go to London very often with Mr Crayden.’ Abigail’s face softened, and Claire, for a moment, saw the much younger woman hidden behind the soft jowls and the crow’s feet. ‘We had some lovely times there.’
Claire realized the import of what she had just heard and tried not to show surprise. Abigail Samuels and Mr Crayden, Senior had … ‘Thank you very much,’ she said. ‘I’ll really treasure this.’
Abigail smiled. ‘I thought you might also want this,’ she said. ‘It’s just a few pounds that I had left on my last visit but it might come in handy.’ She held up a little mesh bag, pretty in itself, and put it down on the desk. ‘Do you know pounds sterling?’ she asked. ‘Of course, the English haven’t changed over to Euros yet.’ Claire nodded.
Abigail opened the change purse and took out some bills and coins. ‘They’re well organized,’ Abigail said. ‘The smaller amounts are printed on smaller paper. And they’re different colors so you can’t confuse a single with a twenty.’ She looked up and smiled at Claire. ‘Of course, they don’t have singles anymore. All of their one-pound notes are gone. They’ve been replaced by these.’
She placed a small but chunky coin in Claire’s palm. ‘When you give a cab driver a twenty and get seven of these back in change they really weigh your pockets down,’ Abigail smiled. She emptied the purse and pointed out the other, lower denomination coins. Then she folded the bills back into the bag and poured the coins in too. She handed it all to Claire. ‘Enjoy,’ she said.
Claire looked at her in surprise and shock. ‘Oh, I couldn’t.’
‘Of course you can,’ Abigail said.
‘Well, you must at least let me pay you.’
Abigail shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about it, dear. It was my per diem money.’
‘Well, thank you,’ Claire told her. ‘Thank you for everything.’
Abigail just nodded and Claire turned to go. But when she got to the door Abigail cleared her throat and Claire, of course, turned around.
‘Be sure to keep your dignity when you come back,’ Abigail said. ‘Don’t have any illusions about the future, even if Wainwright isn’t married.’ And, as Claire looked at the much older woman, she saw something in the fine face, the large eyes that showed her what Abigail Samuels must have looked like thirty years ago. She had been very beautiful, Claire could see and, just as clearly, Claire could also see that she had loved Mr Crayden, Senior back then. She probably still did. Claire wondered at the strangeness of time passing. Abigail had been a girl, just like her. And she must have had many adventures. Claire wondered if Abigail had ever had any illusions, but she thought not. Still, it didn’t mean that she hadn’t had her heart broken though she seemed so even and calm.
As if Abigail could read her thoughts, she looked directly into Claire’s face. ‘Things were different then,’ Abigail said. ‘In a way I think they were easier. People knew exactly where they stood. Men didn’t leave their wives. Women had lower expectations.’ She looked away from Claire, turning to gaze at the view. ‘Sometimes, even when it isn’t appropriate, people find one another and simply can’t be sensible. That hasn’t changed.’ She looked back at Claire. ‘But don’t become confused,’ she told her. ‘All of them have a different set of standards for their wives than they do for …’
Claire looked at her with compassion. But Abigail, a mystery who had revealed a great deal of herself, didn’t want compassion. ‘I didn’t lose my dignity and I have no regrets,’ she said.
‘I won’t either,’ Claire promised.
Tina finally left Michael Wainwright’s office a little after five-thirty, albeit reluctantly. Once she was there alone, Claire called her mother and told her she was off for a few days to Atlantic City. ‘Wish it could be me,’ her mom said. ‘Tell Christine not to throw all her wedding money away.’ Claire promised she would and felt a little guilty.
‘I love you, Mom,’ she said.
‘Love you, too.’ Then there was some background noise from Jerry. ‘Oh, I gotta go,’ said her mother, and hung up.
Now with nothing to do – Claire didn’t want to be caught knitting by Mr Wonderful – she was tempted to snoop. Who was this man she was about to go overseas with? She was far too polite – and timid – to open the drawers of his desk or look in the credenza behind it, but she did start to examine the framed photos and the diplomas on the wall.
He had gone to Yale, and Claire wondered if he had been in Skull and Bones, the elite club that all of the insiders of the insiders were members of. He had also graduated from Wharton Business