Eliza was arranging silver-framed family pictures on the round Henredon table in the living room when the telephone rang. A week ago she would have been delighted to hear Mack’s voice coming from overseas on a leisurely Sunday afternoon. Today her tone was icy as she answered his call.
“How’s it going over there?” she asked perfunctorily.
“It’s quiet now. But you always have the feeling that things could blow at any time.”
“Be careful.”
To Mack, her voice sounded detached, uninterested. She was holding back. She knew.
“Anything new on the threats?”
“Security is on top of it,” she answered shortly.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, Eliza. You mean too much to me.”
“Sure, Mack. I mean so much to you. Don’t bother with the charade. I heard all about your little tryst.”
What should he say? This was the conversation he had been dreading. Girding himself, he plunged ahead.
“I wanted to tell you, Eliza. I wanted to tell you myself. I didn’t want you to hear from someone else.”
“Well, I did. It really felt great, too. I especially like the fact that so many of the people I have to work with every day know about it as well. Thanks so much.”
“I’m sorry, Eliza. I really am. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“That’s nice. That makes me feel a lot better.”
There was a pause on the line that had nothing to do with the long-distance transmission delay.
“I guess it would sound pretty lame if I said that it didn’t mean anything. I was drunk and down and it just happened.”
“Spare me the pretty details, Mack. Please.”
“Look, honey, this isn’t something that we can work out over the telephone. I have to see you. We have to talk in person. We have too much going for us to let my stupid screwup ruin everything.”
“Number one, don’t call me ‘honey.’ Number two, this is a bit more than a ‘stupid screwup.’ And number three, it doesn’t look like we’re going to get the chance anytime soon to talk face-to-face. And to tell you the truth, Mack, that’s just fine with me.”
With that, she hung up on him and forced herself not to cry.