Chapter 8

London, 2005

Alina went everywhere with Gregory for the next two months, until it was time to begin the first film without her husband’s guidance. The scandal of their affair, and Alina’s broken marriage, had been all over the British papers for weeks, and with the two leading figures so famous, it wasn’t only the tabloids that paid attention. This was the biggest, but not the first, scandal of its kind for Sir Gregory, who had a habit of finding the most desirable women he could, often married, and doing whatever he could to separate them from their husbands, ultimately losing interest and discarding them.

But this relationship seemed different - to Gregory and everyone watching. Gregory didn’t want to be apart from her for even a moment. He was fifty-eight but felt more youthful than he ever had. The years that separated them seemed insignificant. He thought he was falling in love with her, and that unfamiliar feeling scared him, but at the same time it was exhilarating. He found himself thinking about her all the time - while studying for performances, in meetings, in rehearsals, even during his concerts.

He was only half concentrating on everything else in his life, but in his mind he was making love to Alina, or sitting quietly holding her hand. She had become a part of him. He stopped himself from believing he was obsessed with her, as Gregory would never have let go of the tight control he maintained on all aspects of his life. But there were moments when he feared he was coming close to obsession, another feeling that was alien to him. He had always been in charge, always in command of every situation. In the past, he could turn off his unwanted thoughts when he didn’t need them cluttering his mind. Not this time; there was no ‘off’ switch for Alina, who had infiltrated every fiber of his being. Without trying to, she had woven herself through Gregory Langhorne, and he could no longer tell where he left off and where she began. Alina Harrison was the only woman who had ever swept him off his feet.

Alina and Gregory had met during an orchestra gala at which she was a guest of honor. She and her husband were seated at the conductor’s table. The Maestro had requested that her place card be next to his, and as soon as they met, he was pleased to discover that the conversation flowed easily. He had seen all of her films, but Gregory was surprised and impressed to learn how much she knew about music, and that she had studied the piano seriously before turning to acting. Before the end of the long dinner, she had slipped a note into Gregory’s pocket, with her private number and a note saying, “Please call me.” He was discreet enough not to remove the note until he was in the privacy of his home. When he did, his heart skipped a beat.

Gregory’s last relationship had ended a month earlier. He had been with a prominent corporate executive for nearly two years, one of the few relationships he had attempted with a woman who was actually available. The society pages had followed them closely, predicting that she would become his fourth wife. But she had surprised everyone by abruptly deciding to leave him, telling her friends, who were promptly quoted in the gossip columns, that Gregory was impossibly difficult, egocentric, and not interested in anything she had to say.

Gregory seemed more angry than crushed. Jonathan spent long evenings talking with him, first encouraging his father to try to reconcile with her, and ultimately, when that seemed hopeless, advising him to take a break from relationships for a while.

“What are you looking for, father?”

“I’m not sure. Love? It’s been my eternal search.”

“But what about my mother? You loved her, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Of course I did. But she broke my heart. I lost your mother and my best friend at the same time! I didn’t think I would ever get over that. Didn’t think I would have the strength to take care of you.”

“But you did.”

“None of it has been easy. I haven’t told you the whole story because I felt it would be too hard for you to hear it. I’ve never forgiven the bastard for stealing her - then dumping her when she got sick. I would have taken her back then.”

“What happened?”

“She refused. She said she couldn’t have us watching her die. I should have insisted on taking her home, taking care of her, but she went into hospice care.

“I was wrong, Jonathan. I should never have let her go.”

“I wish you had told me this before. I never really knew what happened” Jonathan said.

“You’re right. I should have told you. I’m sorry. But you were eight years old when it all happened. Then the time passed and you never asked. It seemed better not to bring it up, not to stir up the past. I didn’t want you to be upset.”

“I only knew she left us, and died. I didn’t know the rest...and how much she hurt you. I’m sorry...that you were treated so badly.”

“Oh Jonathan, it wasn’t all one sided. I caused plenty of it. I cheated on her. I was cold, and never took her feelings into account. If I wanted a woman, then to hell with what Christine wanted. I could barely say a thing when she left with Jordan. She deserved a better relationship, and I thought he was a better person than he turned out to be.”

Jonathan was silent. It was a lot to absorb. He remained firm in his conviction that, after the most recent in a series of disastrous relationships, his father needed to take a long break. Finally, Jonathan said, “Perhaps if you stop searching, you will feel better. You could restore yourself. Recover from the pain. Give yourself time to think about what’s best for the future.”

Since he had heard nothing about a new relationship for months, Jonathan believed his father had followed his advice.

Gregory barely slept after reading the short note from Alina. He phoned her the next morning.

“Come over for coffee,” he said, supplying his address, and telling her which side door to use. “I’ll be there in an hour,” she replied.

Gregory paced the ground floor of his house for an interminable hour. He was impatient, excited, wondering if he felt that way because he had been a fan of her films, or because he liked the person who had sat next to him at the formal dinner the previous evening. For the moment, it didn’t matter. He spoke with his housekeeper Donna, a quiet woman of 51 who had worked for him for more than a decade, and was the epitome of discretion. Particularly when it came to Gregory’s female guests, Donna knew exactly how to handle every situation, when to provide assistance, and when to disappear quietly to her area of the house.

“I have a guest coming in a short while. She will probably stay for an hour or two. We could use some breakfast,” he said matter-of-factly.

Donna nodded pleasantly and disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the coffee. Donna was confident yet unassuming. She had an ageless look about her and could have been placed at anywhere between 40 and 50. Her silvery white hair was cut short and most often she dressed in black slacks and a white top - her own idea of a uniform, although Gregory placed no such requirements on her. She considered herself a few pounds too heavy, but wore it well and determined that losing weight was not worth all the suffering it entailed. Gregory could not imagine anyone else running his household, and he showed his appreciation by paying her generously and praising her frequently. This would be her job for life.

Donna put white mugs on the round table in a wood-paneled room that had two comfortable chairs. It was the smallest room in the house, and one where Gregory often spent time reading when he was alone.

When he heard the gate shut, and footsteps across the stone path in the small garden at the side of his home, he moved quickly toward the door and didn’t wait for a knock. He took Alina’s hand in his and showed her up three steps and into the small room. Stopping abruptly, he said, “How rude of me. Your first time here - I must show you around.”

She smiled as he helped her out of her coat.

“It’s fine,” she said, “I only have an hour before a meeting with a producer. And I’m eager for the coffee you promised. A long trip for a cup of coffee,” she said lightly.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Gregory said. “Good,” she said, “I’m only half awake after last night. What a performance! If you don’t mind,” she added, kicking off her shoes, “I’ll settle right here.” She dropped into the chair he expected her to use, and thought that few people would make themselves at home so quickly. Perhaps it was her status that made her comfortable. He noticed that her shoes were gone, and he was studying the way she had settled into the chair and crossed her legs. He looked just a moment too long, and she asked, “Are you going to sit or stand?” He sat without saying anything.

“Thank you for coming to visit,” he said. “It was such a pleasure meeting you last night. I almost feel that I know you - but I suppose you get that a lot from people seeing your films.”

“As you must, Sir Gregory, being so much in the public eye.”

“Please....just call me Gregory. ‘Sir’ is a lovely appendage, but hardly necessary between friends. And I hope we shall become friends,” he said, looking into her brown eyes that were almost the same shade as his own. She smiled again, and said, “Of course we shall become friends. I already feel as though I know your character through your music.”

“People say that, but I don’t know how true it is. Is it my character you know, or my passions? My emotions? It’s not really the same thing, is it? I’m sure I could be an evil bastard and still inspire great emotion.”

“Perhaps you’re right. It was a big assumption on my part. But still, it’s not like meeting a stranger. I know how you feel in a Brahms Symphony, or a Tchaikovsky Concerto. It’s the same as the way you think you know about me from seeing my movies. Maybe superficial...but alternatively, it’s very deep.”

He knew it was the conversation they would have - the icebreaker, establishing a connection, giving them a reason to meet again, and finding their common ground as figures idolized in their respective worlds. It was reassuring to have that in common.

They were interrupted by Donna bringing in a large tray filled with croissants, butter and jam, and a large pot of coffee. She set it down on the sideboard, poured the coffee, and put everything else on the table. Then she slipped out, and by the time Gregory and Alina looked up it was as if she had evaporated. Gregory was used to it; Alina was surprised by it. She realized that Donna had not waited to be introduced.

They both sipped their coffee, for a moment not speaking. Alina uncrossed her legs and pulled her chair closer to the table, breaking off a small piece of a croissant and taking a bite. “Do you live here alone?” she asked.

Gregory knew what she was really asking. There wasn’t anyone in England unaware of his last relationship. “I do now,” he said. “I was involved until a month ago. It broke up. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”

“Oh, I try not to keep up on everyone’s relationships. It seems so...intrusive,” she added, searching for the right word. “You should be able to have some parts of your life that everyone doesn’t know about.” Gregory couldn’t tell if she meant it, or didn’t want to let on how much she had read about him.

They seemed to have been talking for a few minutes when Alina glanced at her watch. In a flash, their hour was up. “Thank you,” she said. “My potential next film beckons,” she said, slipping on her shoes and getting up. He stood quickly, “Oh, the tour. This means there must be a ‘next time,’” he said, gently helping her on with her coat and walking toward the door.

“Would you like to come to the rehearsal on Thursday...and to the concert on Saturday? You and your husband, of course,” he added, not meaning it.

“Yes, and yes, but Jeffrey will be away for a few days. I would love to come to both.”

They were at the door to the garden, and Gregory opened it slowly. He leaned over to give her a hug, and she placed her right hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes for a long moment. Her lips met his, gently kissing, and she pulled away and slipped through the door before he had a chance to consider what had just happened.