A Different Kind of Forever - By Dee Ernst Page 0,73

Chorus, was finished with Shakespeare and working through George Bernard Shaw. They were doing three abridged versions of his work in one show, and Diane had said she would try to go.

“Oh, come on,” Rachel urged her. “It’s the least you can do. It’s not like I’m asking you to sleep with him to advance my career.”

“God, Rachel.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “He wanted to, didn’t he?”

Diane looked at her daughter, undecided, then nodded. “Yes. How do you know I didn’t?”

Rachel sighed. “He was married then, wasn’t he? And you did raise me. I know you wouldn’t fool around with a married man. Not even Quinn Harris.”

Diane’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe it. I actually made a moral impression here. My mission as a mother has been successful.”

“Don’t get sloppy on me, Mom.” Rachel shrugged. “But yeah, you were a good mother.”

“Tell your sister, Emily, for me, would you please? She hates me so much right now.”

“What is it this time?”

Diane shrugged. “The same thing it’s been for weeks.”

Rachel looked thoughtful. “The car thing? Dad says he’s going to take care of all that, didn’t you know?”

Diane was surprised. “No. I didn’t know. Then why is she so angry at me?”

Rachel shrugged. “Who knows? With her it could be anything.”

“You’re right.” She shook her head. “So, on another subject, how do you like your new half-sister?” Kevin’s wife had delivered a baby girl two weeks before. Rachel launched into a story about her father and his second round of diaper changing. Diane half-listened, her mind wandering. She was worried about Emily. She thought about Quinn. Mostly, she missed Michael.

Indian summer returned on the Saturday night that Quinn and Diane went to see Rachel’s show. Quinn met her in the seedy little theater, where they sat on folding chairs and the air conditioning did not work. But the house was full. The little troupe was developing something of a reputation. They whizzed through three of G.B.Shaw’s finest in a little over ninety minutes. Quinn and Diane laughed along with the rest of the audience. The writing was very good. Rachel was in all three bits, playing a man each time, her bad makeup and ill-fitting wig, along with a shabby costume that did nothing to disguise her lovely figure, all part of the gag.

Afterwards, Quinn took the whole cast to a corner bar and bought them round after round. Rachel’s cast-mates were all young and obviously impressed with Quinn Harris. This was Quinn in his element, telling stories of his own early days, dissecting scenes and speeches with people as passionate about theater as he was. Rachel and her crowd were enthralled. Diane was charmed.

The impromptu party broke up after one in the morning, and since Diane did not want to take the train home so late, she stayed with Rachel. Her daughter had a studio that once sat in the shadow of the Twin Towers. She had been there a little over a year, and loved living in Chinatown. The next morning, they had breakfast together, and Diane didn’t get home until Sunday afternoon. Megan had called to say she and Emily were staying at their father’s another night, and wouldn’t be back until Monday after school. Diane went outside and spent the warm afternoon raking leaves. Then she went inside and sat alone, waiting for Michael to come home.

Diane had the perfect dress for the Pierre Hotel. She had found it in a vintage clothing shop, black satin, strapless. She tried it on at a whim, with Sue Griffen egging her on, and it had fit perfectly, sewn-in bones lifting her breasts beneath the shimmering fabric. Sue insisted she buy it, saying that, someday, she would need a dress like that. It hung in the closet for two years, but she took it out Saturday night. Quinn sent a limo for her, against her protests. He was co-hosting the event, and had to stay at the hotel. So the car, black and tasteful, picked her up and dropped her at Central Park East, and as she swept into the elegant, private room, a murmur ran through the crowd. She looked stunning. She was a new face. People buzzed.

Quinn was delighted to see her, kissing her coolly on the cheek. He stayed at her side through the cocktail hour, introducing her, his hand on her back. She knew he hated these events. He disliked meeting strangers, and was not at ease in crowds. He was restless, nervous, drinking club soda