Chapter 10

Chris’s father was gorgeous.

Annie wasn’t sure why she was so surprised to see that. Chris was awfully good-looking so it made sense his father would be too. Except that Mr. Wainwright didn’t look like Chris. He looked like Cary Grant did in old movies on television.

The three of them shared the front seat of Mr. Wainwright’s rented car to the very expensive restaurant he took them to. It was the sort Annie fantasized about eating at, and had eaten at once or twice in New York when they were being treated by Image.

“That’s a lovely dress, Annie,” Mr. Wainwright said, after he pulled a chair out for her at the restaurant. “The color is very flattering.”

“Thank you,” Annie said. “I bought it last summer, when I was in New York.” She tried to remember if Chris had ever complimented her on her clothes. It seemed to her he had liked her baseball cap.

“That’s right,” Mr. Wainwright said. “You had a summer internship at Image magazine. Chris mentioned that to me.”

Annie smiled at Chris. He didn’t smile back. Now that Annie thought about it, Chris hadn’t smiled once the entire evening, not since Mr. Wainright had picked her up, and spent a few minutes charming her parents. Whatever the problem was, Annie hoped Chris would work it out and become his usual charming self.

“It must have been quite an opportunity,” Mr. Wainwright declared. “And I’m sure the competition was quite fierce to get the internship.”

“There were seven thousand applicants,” Annie said. “Of course, not all of them applied for the editorial position, Mr. Wainwright.”

“Call me Bob,” he said, and offered Annie a smile. Chris had definitely inherited his father’s teeth.

“All right, Bob,” Annie said, smiling back. A summer at Image had taught her how to call unknown adults by their first names, a social skill she found more and more useful.

“I worked as a summer intern at a Wall Street law firm,” Bob declared. “Between my second and third years at law school. I had a fabulous time, and decided to practice law in New York as a result.”

“But now you live in Los Angeles,” Annie said.

“After my marriage to Chris’s mother broke up, there didn’t seem to be much reason to stay on the East Coast,” Bob replied. “Chris was just an infant, and I’ve never been much good with little children. So I packed my bags, studied for the California bar, and moved to LA. It’s a decision I’ve never regretted.”

“I’ve never been to LA,” Annie said.

“It’s very different from New York,” Bob said. “The pace is different, and the emphasis is more on outdoor activities. But the weather is glorious, and the beaches are a marvel, and frankly I’d rather ski in the morning, and then go back to seventy-degree weather, than shiver my way through another miserable January day.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Annie said.

“I like winter,” Chris said. “Of course, that’s one reason why I’m going to school in Boston.”

“I must admit, there is nothing like autumn in New York, though,” Bob declared. “The crisp October days make you feel as if you can conquer the world. I had forgotten how special October can make you feel.”

“October’s my favorite month,” Annie confided. “Of course my birthday is in October, so I’m prejudiced.”

“You have a birthday coming up?” Bob asked.

“I just had it,” Annie replied. “On Wednesday.”

“Chris, you should have told me,” Bob said. “I hope you had a lovely time.”

“I did,” Annie assured him. “Chris gave me this pendant.” She fingered her opal so that Bob could have a better view of it.

“It’s charming,” Bob said. “So you’re eighteen now.”

“She’s seventeen,” Chris said. “Just.”

“You seem so much more mature than that,” Bob said. “More young woman than girl.”

Annie found Mr. Wainwright charming and suddenly understood why his next-wife-to-be had decided to take the chance to marry him.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked, and soon they were burying their heads in the menus, trying to decide what to order.

Everything was very expensive, Annie realized as she checked out the prices. Still, Bob certainly looked as if he could afford to pay for whatever she ordered, so there was no point in ordering the least expensive item on the menu, just to be helpful. She let Chris order first, though, and when she checked out what he’d ordered, she got something roughly the same price. Bob, she noticed, ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, so he obviously didn’t care.

“So how’s Muriel?” Chris asked, once they’d ordered.

“I thought her name name was Mariel, Chris,” Annie said.

“She’s just fine,” Bob said. “She’s looking forward to seeing you again, Chris.”

“Chris told me you and Mariel are going on a wedding trip,” Annie said. “But he didn’t tell me where you’re going.”

“Just Paris,” Bob replied. “Just for a week.”

“Oh,” Annie said, trying hard not to sigh. Paris must be incredible in autumn. Bob must be incredible in Paris.

“Have you been to Paris?” Bob asked Annie.

“Only in my dreams,” Annie replied. “My mother studied there, though, so I feel like I’ve been there. All the stories she’s told me.”

“The Powells are nice people, Dad,” Chris said.

“Of course they are,” Bob said. “That’s obvious, simply from meeting their daughter.”

Annie wished she could introduce Bob to Murray Levine. Murray could learn a lot about public relations from spending twenty minutes in Bob’s company.

Annie looked surreptitiously at Bob and Chris. Under ordinary circumstances, she’d be impressed with how at ease Chris was in such a high-class place. She’d admired that about Ned Brundege the summer before, that sense that he was accustomed to being at the best places, and therefore never even thought to worry that he might have a piece of spinach clinging to his front teeth.

Only Chris didn’t look especially at ease. It wasn’t that he kept running his tongue over his teeth, but he was clearly uncomfortable. And even if he had been acting as though he’d been born there, he still would have paled in comparison to his father.

Annie had the strong sense that everybody at the restaurant had cast at least one look at their table, and it was Bob who was the focus of their attention. He was so tan and silver and gorgeous.

And even though he could hardly be fascinated by his son’s seventeen-year-old girlfriend he gave her his full attention. Chris’s father was a perfect gentleman, and Annie felt dizzy with pleasure just to be spending the evening with him.

They made it through dinner, mostly discussing some of Bob’s more interesting cases, and all the famous celebrities he knew in LA. Annie loved it, even though Chris seemed bored. Annie figured he’d already heard it. She didn’t care. She’d spent the day sending bills out to some of Boston’s least famous people, people like Irvin Weinstock who were thrilled to spend an hour answering questions about gum disease on the local radio.

In a moment of daring, Annie tried out her Irvin Weinstock story on Bob, and he laughed at all the right points, especially when she told him Charlene’s concern with AIDS. She couldn’t get over how special Bob made her feel. What a fool Chris’s mother must have been to let him get away.

Dinner was over all too soon. Annie would have loved a dessert, but she sensed that Bob wasn’t the whipped cream sort, so she passed up the offer. Chris had barely touched his dinner, she noticed, but that sort of restaurant wasn’t such a big thrill for him.

They went on to the club where Murray’s client’s chicky was performing. The place was crowded, but since Murray had arranged their reservations, they had no trouble being seated.

“I hope this singer is all right,” Annie said, as soon as they had settled in. “All I know about her is that my boss’s client is having an affair with her. And that’s not exactly a recommendation.”

“It will be an adventure,” Bob declared. “At best, we’ll be discovering a rare new talent. And at worst, she’ll be so dreadful we’ll be able to laugh for years to come.”

“At worst she’ll be mediocre,” Chris said. “And we’ll be bored.”

“Nothing about this evening could bore me,” Bob said. “Not when it’s been spent in such enchanting company.”

“That’s very kind of you, Bob,” Annie said. “But Chris is right. There’s every chance this singer will simply be nothing.”

“Then I’ll give you my undivided attention,” Bob said. “And be pleased not to be distracted.”

“I have to go to the ladies’ room,” Annie choked out. She smiled, and left the table as fast as she could. It wasn’t until she escaped to the privacy of the ladies’ room that she felt free to let out the whoop of laughter that had been welling inside her.

It was so fabulously silly. No wonder all those women married him all the time. And no wonder he didn’t ever stay married to them. It must be exhausting to maintain that level of adoration seven days a week. Annie tried to picture her father talking to her mother the way Bob talked, and that just made her laugh all the harder. She didn’t care what the other people in the ladies’ room must think of her, it was such an absurd picture.

When she had calmed down sufficiently she walked back to the table. Bob, she noted, was saying something to Chris, who didn’t seem to be listening. She smiled at both of them and gave Chris’s hand a quick squeeze. He didn’t squeeze back, but she figured he was probably shy about showing affection in front of his father. Amateurs never like performing in front of professionals.

Which reminded her of why they were at the club. It looked like a respectable enough place, and the crowd seemed well dressed enough. Maybe chicky wouldn’t be a disaster.

“Chris told me so much about you, but he never told me just how special you are,” Bob declared. “I suppose he wanted to keep that secret to himself.”

“Thank you,” Annie said.

“I told you how special she is,” Chris muttered. “Oh, forget it.”

“I think Chris is pretty special too,” Annie said. “Sometimes I think of that moment when we met, and I realize how lucky I was that I was reaching for the book I wanted, and he was reaching for the one he wanted, at just the right moment.”

“Chris didn’t tell me anything about that,” Bob said. “What’s this about books?”

“We met at a bookstore,” Annie said. “I was looking at a book called Make Your Anger Work for You, and Chris …” She suddenly remembered the name and nature of the book Chris had bought and stopped the story short.

“Yes?” Bob prompted her.

“I forget,” Annie said.

“I was buying a book on dealing with neurotic parents,” Chris said.

“Ah,” Bob said. “Having problems with your mother again, Chris? I’d hoped the two of you had worked out your difficulties by now.”

“What difficulties?” Annie asked.

“I bought it in honor of your upcoming wedding,” Chris said.

“Chris!” Annie said. “Don’t be rude to your father.”

“He started it,” Chris said, and Annie was shocked by how babyish he was being. “I mean, oh, never mind.”

“Weddings are stressful for everyone,” Bob said. “I lean so much on Chris, I forget sometimes that it can be burdensome for him. But I value Chris not merely as my son, but as my best friend.” He laughed sadly. “I suppose just because Chris is my best friend doesn’t mean I’m his.”

“Chris loves you a lot,” Annie said.

“I can speak for myself, Annie,” Chris said. “Father, I’m sorry. It’s been a long week for me, and I’m tired.”

“I’m tired too, son,” Bob said. “Apology accepted.”

Annie smiled at both of them. She loved it when Chris was being civilized.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Barbara Sullivan!”

The people at the club clapped politely as the singer came out on stage, along with her pianist accompanist. She sat down on a barstool, smiled at the crowd, and began singing.

Much to Annie’s relief, she had a good voice. Barbara Sullivan could really sing. Annie could see Bob was enjoying the show too.

Then Barbara Sullivan announced she was going to sing some original material, and Annie got nervous. It was easy to sing someone else’s songs, and then turn out to be a lousy songwriter on your own. She only hoped Barbara Sullivan would turn out not to be truly lousy and embarrassing.

But it turned out Barbara Sullivan’s original material wasn’t standard love songs at all. Instead, she sang politically satirical songs, mostly about Boston, but also some about the president. She scattered the songs throughout her set, so they weren’t all clumped together, but gave you something to look forward to in between the standard ballads. And the songs were clever. Annie hadn’t known what to expect when Murray had asked her to help him out, but the one thing she knew she hadn’t been expecting was fresh political humor from a client’s young chicky.

For the first time that evening, Chris looked like he was enjoying himself as well. He laughed as loudly as anybody at some of her material, and his applause was loud and sincere. Bob seemed to prefer the singer’s more traditional songs, but Annie had suspected all along he was a sucker for a love song.

“She was really good,” Chris said, after Barbara Sullivan had finished her act, which included two much-requested encores. “Murray Levine will be lucky if he gets to represent her.”

“She was delightful,” Bob said. “A lovely voice.”

“Do you think I should go backstage?” Annie asked. “She probably knows someone from the office is going to be here tonight.”

“I don’t think so,” Chris said. “No insult intended, but I doubt she’d be thrilled that Murray sent a high school kid to check her out.”

“You’re right,” Annie said. “I’ll just tell Murray how good she was. You did think so, didn’t you, Chris?”

“I thought she was great,” Chris said. “Especially that song about the governor.”

“Biting,” Bob said. “Very clever.”

“I’ll tell Murray,” Annie said. “What a relief.”

“I suppose this means we should be getting you home,” Bob said, checking the time.

“I am tired,” Annie admitted. “Although I’d love for this evening to go on forever.”

“What a charming compliment,” Bob said, getting the check from their waiter. “Annie, this has been a delight for me. You’re the first of Chris’s girlfriends that I’ve ever had the chance to spend an evening with, and I must say I’m impressed with my son’s taste in women.”

“Chris is pretty special,” Annie said.

“We’re all pretty special,” Chris said. “Come on, Dad. Annie’s been working all day. She must be exhausted.”

“Very well,” Bob said, leaving what Annie knew to be a substantial tip on the table. “Come children. Let’s hie away home.”

“A simple drive should do it,” Chris said.

“My son is far too down to earth,” Bob said to Annie, as they left the club. “A failing in his character I wish I had been around more to correct.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Annie said. “I think he’s pretty magical.”

“I have a headache,” Chris said. “If there’s a magical cure for that, let me know.”

“I will,” Annie said. The most magical cure she could come up with was chopping Chris’s head off, but she knew if she did, she’d regret it in the morning. So instead she just smiled at him, and allowed Bob to take her arm, as they walked away from the club together. Maybe if Chris watched carefully enough, he could learn a thing or two about magic from his father.