The Promise - By Danielle Steel Page 0,79

had already checked him in and seen to it that his suite was in order for the first meeting. He had reserved two suites, one in which he could stay, the other for meetings. And if necessary there could be conferences held simultaneously in both. It was nine o'clock that night before he was through with his work, and tiredly he called room service and asked for a steak. It was mid-night in New York, and he was beat. But it had been a fruitful few hours, and he was pleased. He settled back on the couch, pulled off his tie, threw his feet up on the coffee table, and closed his eyes. And then it was as though he heard his mother's voice in the room. “Did you call that girl?” Oh, Christ. The words sounded loud in the suddenly quiet room, which still reeked of cigarette smoke, and the round of Scotches they'd ordered at the end. But the girl… well, why not? He had the time, while he waited for his steak. It might keep him from falling asleep. He reached for his briefcase, found the number in a file, and dialed from where he sat. The phone rang three or four times before she answered.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, Miss Adamson, this is Michael Hillyard.”

She felt herself almost gasp and had to sharply control her breathing. “I see. Are you in San Francisco, Mr. Hillyard?” Her voice was clipped and brusque; she sounded almost angry. Maybe he had gotten her at a bad time, or maybe she didn't like to be called at home. He didn't really care.

“Yes, I am, Miss Adamson. And I was wondering if we might get together. We have a few things to discuss.”

“No. We have absolutely nothing to discuss. I thought I made that very clear to your mother.” She was trembling all over and clutching the phone.

“Then perhaps she forgot to relay the message.” He was beginning to sound as uptight as she. “She had a mild heart attack just after her meeting with you. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the meeting, but she didn't tell me a great deal about what either of you said. Understandably, given the circumstances.”

“Yes.” Marie seemed to pause. “I'm sorry to hear it. Is she all right now?”

“Very much so.” Michael smiled. “She got married last week. Right now she's in Majorca.”

How sweet. The bitch. She ruins my life and goes on a honeymoon. Marie wanted to grit her teeth, or slam down the phone.

“But that's neither here nor there. When can we meet?”

“I've already told you. We can't.” She almost spat the words through the phone, and he closed his eyes again. He was really too tired to be bothered.

“All right. I concede. For now. I'm at the Fairmont. If you change your mind, call.”

“I won't.”

“Fine.”

“Good night, Mr. Hillyard.”

“Good night, Miss Adamson.”

She was surprised at how quickly he ended the conversation. And he hadn't really sounded like Michael. He sounded worn out, as though he didn't really give a damn. Just what had happened to him in the last two years? She sat wondering for a long time after she hung up the phone.

Chapter 26

“Darling, you're so solemn-looking. Is anything wrong?” Peter looked at her across the lunch table, and she shook her head, toying with her glass of wine.

“No. I'm just thinking of some new work. I want to start a new project tomorrow. That always keeps me preoccupied.” But she was lying and they both knew it. Ever since Michael had called the night before, she had been catapulted back into the past. All she could think of was that last day. The bicycling, the fair, the gaudy blue beads, burying them at the beach, and then dressing in the white eyelet dress and blue satin cap to run off and marry Michael … and then his mother's voice as she lay bandaged and unseeing in her hospital bed. It was like having a movie shown constantly before her eyes. She couldn't get away from it.

“Darling, are you all right?”

“Fine. Really. I'm sorry I'm such bad company today. Maybe I'm just tired.” But he had seen the haunted look, and there was a troubled little frown between her eyes.

“Have you seen Faye lately?”

“No, I keep meaning to call her for lunch, and I never have time. Ever since the show,” she smiled gratefully at him, “I've spent half my time in the darkroom and the other half racing around town with