A Different Kind of Forever - By Dee Ernst Page 0,72

I received from my solicitor was to not give my wife any ammunition. If she thought for a moment there was someone else, she would have fought like a tiger. As it was, she dragged her heels for as long as she could.” He leaned forward. “I won’t be so presumptuous to ask you to pick up where we left off two years ago, but would you consider starting over? I could tempt you with flowers and bad poetry to start.”

“Oh.” Diane sat back in her chair and felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, Quinn. I’ve met someone. Rather recently, in fact. It was quite unexpected. I’m still getting used to the whole idea, actually. He’s younger, and a musician. But he’s – “ She licked her lips and felt a sting of tears behind her eyes. “He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. And he’s in love with me.”

“Well.” Quinn frowned for a moment, then shrugged. “Does he mind you having dinner with a man who once had designs on your body?”

“He’s in London now, scoring a movie. He’s been gone a few weeks. But even if he were here, he wouldn’t mind.”

“A movie?” The waiter served salads, and Quinn ordered another scotch. “Who’s he working with?”

“Gordon Prescott.” Diane ate some salad. “Michael says he’s a lunatic.”

“Good Lord. Yes, in fact, Gordon is a lunatic. Your musician must be very talented. Gordon only works with the best. Unfortunately, he has a tendency to chew his people up, suck them dry, then spit them back out. Very few people work with him a second time. He’s brilliant, of course, but brutal.” He was watching her. “You do seem very happy. And you look splendid. He’s a lucky man.”

“Thank you for saying that. But I’m the one who feels lucky.”

He sighed. “Well, here’s the thing. There’s a dinner in a couple of weeks, welcoming Derek the Great to New York. It’s a black tie thing, at the Pierre, very posh. I was rather hoping you’d come with me. I’m in need of a date, apparently, and you can make decent small-talk, know the right fork to use, that sort of thing.” Diane smiled. “The food will probably be dreadful,” he went on, “but you’ll get to meet some very notorious theater people.”

Diane thought a moment. “That would probably be a great evening. I’d love to come with you.”

“Excellent. I’ll call you, and let you know everything, times and so forth.” He held up his half-empty glass. “Here’s to being friends then, I suppose.”

“Yes.” She touched his glass with hers. “That would be good. Friends.”

Rachel came to a rehearsal one night the following week, and she and Diane went out to dinner afterwards. As Rachel praised her mother, Diane looked at her skeptically.

“Thank you, my darling daughter, but I know your taste. You have little patience for comedy, unless of course it’s combined with blazing satire or in protest of some massive government plot to subvert the masses. You probably think my play is trite.”

“Mom.” Rachel’s hair was still long, and she wore it in a braid over one shoulder. She had attracted several looks as they entered the restaurant, her legs endless under a short skirt. Now she took a sip of her water. “Mom, not everything I like is avant-garde. I love some of the old stuff. In fact, I’m dying to see your old lover-boy, Harris, and his Coward thing. Next spring, I hear. Have you seen him?”

Diane nodded.” Yes. I’m going with him to a dinner for Sir Derek Shore.”

“You’re going on a date with him?” Rachel set down her glass, hard, spilling water. “Mom, what happened to Michael?”

Diane looked at Rachel, puzzled. “Nothing happened to Michael. He’s having a miserable time. We e-mail just about every day.” Diane narrowed her eyes. “When did you become my watchdog, anyway?”

Rachel shrugged. “I kind of got to like Michael, Mom, you know that. I just remember back when Quinn was in the picture. You were ga-ga over him.”

Diane looked at her daughter. “No, I wasn’t ga-ga. That was you.”

Rachel looked at her severely. “No shit, you were ga-ga, okay? I was waiting for the two you to live happily ever after so he could cast me in his next play.”

“Rachel!” Diane exclaimed. “What a thing to say.”

“So you two are, what, just friends now? Invite him to see me.”

Diane stared. “See you? When?”

“Saturday, Mom? You said you were coming.” The company that Rachel was involved in, the 13th Street