25

INCREDIBLY, THE TEMPERATURE ON March 15th was threatening to reach 60 degrees, and sunshine filled the park in Kennedy Plaza. The homeless who slept there at night and occupied the benches during the day removed their heavy, tattered jackets and overcoats. The out of fashion designs on the sweaters they wore left little mystery as to how old they were, removed at last from a bureau drawer where they had lain untouched for years, or handed down a number of times before being brought to a Salvation Army or Morgan Memorial storefront. People who normally just nodded at acquaintances in the street couldn’t pass each other without asking, “Can you believe this weather?” Spring, still officially six days away, was giving a welcome preview of coming attractions.

Carol Singer had already looked down twice on this scene from her office window on the thirty-third floor. She was writing a brief for a case in the State Supreme Court and liked to walk around the room for inspiration whenever it became difficult to translate her thoughts into just the right words. She ignored the telephone when it rang. Her instructions to Kathy Walsh, her secretary, were to tell clients she was in conference and would return their calls later on. The unexpected sound of Kathy’s voice on the intercom startled her for an instant.

“Your husband is on line one, Mrs. Singer.”

When she answered, Bruce invited her to have lunch with him at the Biltmore. His firm’s offices were just two blocks away, on Weybosset.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked him.

“I’ve made a decision about running against Sacco,” he told her. “I want to share it with you.”

“I wish I could, Bruce, but my department’s hosting a lunch for some big wheels from Fleet. We’ve been after some of their banking business for a long time and I’m one of the speakers.” She hesitated a few moments. “Is it what I want to hear?”

“I really think we should be holding a glass in our hands when we talk about it.” His voice was playful. Carol knew what he would tell her. She felt relieved and wonderful.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “How about a rain check for tomorrow?”

“Not for all the money in the other banks your firm already represents. This is today’s decision and today’s celebration. I’ll tell you what. I haven’t had a good Italian dinner in weeks. Let’s go to ‘Capriccio’s’ after work. I’ll pick you up in your lobby at 6:30 and we can walk over.”

Carol didn’t know how to respond. She had already promised to meet Fiore at the Hilton, at seven. Her body still tingled when she thought of their lovemaking the week before. She was angry with him about the trip he suddenly made to New York, cancelling their tryst at the last minute. But he was anxious to make it up to her when they got in bed two nights later. She hadn’t felt as satisfied in a long time, and thought now of the way he teased her as she kept crying out in pleasure. “That’s number five,” he chuckled, “or is it number six? I hope no one on this floor is trying to concentrate on anything.”

But she understood how much anguish Bruce probably went through to reach this point. He was doing it for her. Losing the election to Sacco wouldn’t bother him as long as he had the opportunity to debate the issues with his rival and let the people of Rhode Island know what he wanted to accomplish as governor. His confidants had obviously convinced him that it would be better to wait for the next election, when there wouldn’t be an incumbent to go up against. The State Constitution limited any governor to two terms. Bruce was taking their advice, “pulling a Cuomo,” as he would put it. She realized that he didn’t want to risk seeing their marriage fall apart where the chances of achieving a political victory were remote. She couldn’t reject him now.

“Okay, it’s a date,” she said.

Carol dialed Fiore’s number. Dana Briggs answered and told her that he was out of the office for the day but would probably call in for messages. She asked if Carol wanted to leave one for him.

“Yes, I do,” she replied, her mind racing furiously to come up with something that would sound innocent. She recalled the stories going around years earlier about Fiore sleeping with Briggs and was sure Dana knew how to read between the lines. “Doug told me he might be going out to dinner tonight with one of his clients. He wanted to bring me along because the client’s having some financial problems. I don’t know if that’s still on, but something else has come up and I can’t join them. If he calls, just tell him I’m unavailable tonight. He may want to change the date for the meeting.” She tried to sound as nonchalant about it as she could.

“Who’s the client?” Dana asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “He never told me.”

“I’ll give him your message.”

Briggs hung up the phone and went into Fiore’s office. His calendar was on the desk, open to that day. She looked at it and saw only the initials “C.S.” in the space for appointments after 6:00 p.m. She smiled, and thought about what a terrific lover Doug was.