Her Own Rules

On the other hand, she took great pleasure in looking at the lovely old buildings in Mayfair, which was the one area of London she knew best. She had been coming here for twenty-one years, ever since her marriage to David Layton in 1974. Twenty-three she had been at the time, and so young in a variety of ways; yet in others she had been rather grown up.

England had made a lasting impression on her. She felt comfortable on its shores, and she enjoyed the British people, their idiosyncracies as well as their good manners and civility, not to mention their great sense of humor.

David Layton had been a transplanted Englishman, living and working in Connecticut when she met him. After their wedding at Silver Lake, he had brought her to London to meet his sister Claire, her husband, and children.

Meredith had liked David, and she had loved him well enough to marry him, and she had felt regretful that their marriage had foundered. Their genuine attempts to make it work had come to nothing, and in the end divorce had seemed to be the best, the only, solution.

The one good thing that had come out of this rather dubious and tenuous union was their son, Jonathan. The sad thing was, David never saw his son these days. He had moved to California in the 1980s and had never made any effort to come east to see Jonathan. Nor had he ever invited Jonathan to visit him on the West Coast.

David’s loss, Meredith muttered under her breath. She couldn’t help wishing that things were somewhat different, for her son’s sake at least, though Jon didn’t seem to care that he was so neglected by David. He never mentioned his father.

Being a single parent all those years had been a strain on her at times, Meredith was the first to admit it. But Jon had turned out well, as had her darling Cat. And so it had been worth it in the end…the hard work, the sacrifices, the endless compromises, the cajoling, the bullying, and the unconditional loving. Being a good mother had taken its toll on her life, but she was proud of the children. And of herself in a funny way.

Those years of bringing up Cat and Jon alone, plus creating and developing her business, had left her little time to meet another man, let alone become involved with him. There had been a few boyfriends over the years, but somehow her children and her work had intruded, got in the way. Deep down, she had never really minded. Her children had been her whole world, still were.

Circumstances had been right when she had met Brandon Leonard four years earlier. But he was a married man. In no time at all, she had come to understand that not only was he not separated, as he claimed, but he had no intention of ever leaving his wife or getting a divorce. Simply put, Brandon wanted his wife. He also wanted a mistress. Since she was not a candidate for the latter role, she had terminated their friendship, and in no uncertain terms.

Then this past September, on a trip to London, Patsy had taken her to the fancy opening of an exhibition of sculpture at the posh Lardner Gallery in Bond Street.

And there, lurking among the Arps and the Brancusis, the Moores, the Hepworths, and the Giacomettis had been Reed Jamison. The owner of the gallery.

Tall, dark, good-looking, charismatic. The most attractive man she had met in a long time. And seemingly very available. “Beware,” Patsy had warned. When she had asked her what she meant, Patsy had said, “Watch it. He’s brilliant but difficult.” Again she had pressed Patsy, asked her to elucidate further. Patsy then answered her enigmatically. “Save us all from the brooding Byronic hero. Oh dear, shades of Heathcliff.”

Meredith had only partially understood, and then before she could blink, Reed Jamison, having taken one look at her, was in hot pursuit.

Drawn to him initially, she had fallen under his spell; but gradually, over the following months, she had begun to feel suddenly and unexpectedly ill at ease with him. And she had begun to pull away from the relationship within herself.

On his last visit to New York, in late November, she had been turned off. He had been morose, argumentative, and possessive. Furthermore, she had detected a bullying attitude in him, and this had alarmed her.

Tonight she was going to tell him that she could not see him again, that their relationship, such as it was, had come to an end. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she knew it must be done.

“Why bother?” Patsy had said over lunch earlier. “Have dinner with him tonight. Say nothing. Tomorrow we’re going to the Lake District and Yorkshire. And then you’re off to Paris. Don’t make yourself sick over this. Avoid a troublesome confrontation.”

“I have to tell him it’s over,” Meredith answered. “Don’t you see, he’ll be in my life, pestering me, circling me, until I make it clear I don’t want him anywhere near me.”

“What went wrong?” Patsy asked curiously.

“Reed went wrong. He’s just too complex a man for me.”

“I hate to say I told you so,” Patsy murmured.

“It’s all right, you can say it, Patsy. Because you did warn me, and you were right about him all along.”

They had then gone on to talk about other things, but now Meredith could not help wondering if maybe Patsy was right. Might it not be infinitely easier simply to have dinner with Reed and say nothing?

Maybe I should do that, she thought as she turned into Brook Street.

“Good afternoon, madam,” the uniformed doorman outside Claridge’s said as she went up the steps.

“Good afternoon,” she responded, smiling pleasantly, and pushed through the door that led into the hotel.

Martin, one of the concierges, greeted her as she crossed the lobby, making for the elevator.

“Meredith!”

She stopped in her tracks, freezing as she recognized the cultivated masculine voice.

Slowly turning, she pasted a smile on her face as she moved toward the man who had called her name. “Reed! Hello! But you’re a bit early, aren’t you?”

He smiled and leaned into her, put his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. He kissed her cheek. “I’m here having tea with friends.” He jerked his head in the direction of the salon, which opened off the lobby, and indicated a group of people at one of the tables. Afternoon tea was being served and a string quartet played.

“Darling, it’s lovely to see you,” he went on, staring deeply into her eyes. “I’ve missed you, but then, I told you that on the phone this morning. I was actually just coming out to ring you up in your room, to invite you to come down and join us, when I saw you heading for the lift.” He took hold of her arm firmly, and drew her toward the salon.

Meredith resisted and held her ground, shaking her head. “Reed, I can’t. It’s so nice of you to invite me, and thank you, but there are a number of things I must do before dinner.” Peeking at her watch, she added. “It’s almost five. We’re still meeting at six-thirty, aren’t we?”

“Of course. Unless you want to make it earlier. Look, do join us now,” he pressed, and once more tried to draw her into the salon.

Meredith said softly, “Please, Reed, don’t make a scene here. I just can’t have tea. I’ve some phone calls, and I must change for dinner.”

He let go of her arm abruptly and stepped away from her. “Very well,” he said, sounding suddenly grudging. “Don’t get frightfully dressed up. I’m taking you slumming tonight.”

Giving him a fraudulent smile, she murmured, “I’ll see you in a short while, Reed.” Not giving him a chance to say another word, Meredith spun around on her heel and walked rapidly to the elevator.

Once she was inside her suite, she threw off her cape and unbuttoned the jacket of her cream pantsuit, then went through into the bedroom. Pulling open the wardrobe door, she looked at her clothes hanging there, settled on a black pantsuit for dinner, wishing deep down inside herself that she had never met Reed Jamison.

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_b3562d3b-69b0-52d8-9a61-4c001e56378a)

At precisely six-thirty there was a knock on the door of the suite, and Meredith knew it was Reed Jamison.

Walking out of the bedroom into the sitting room, buttoning her jacket, she arranged a pleasant smile on her face before opening the door.

“Not too early, I hope,” Reed said, kissing her on the cheek.

“Exactly on time,” Meredith replied, and stood back in order to let him walk into the suite. “I’ll just get my bag and coat and we can be off.”

“Oh but it’s far too early for the restaurant, darling. Why don’t we have a drink here first.” He put his overcoat on a chair and sauntered into the middle of the sitting room. After giving it a sweeping glance, he went to the fireplace, where he draped himself against the mantel, striking an elegant pose.

“All right,” Meredith said, endeavoring to be gracious, although she couldn’t help wishing he had not come up to the suite. She had fully expected him to phone her from the lobby. Pressing the bell for the floor waiter and clearing her throat, she asked, “What would you like?”

“Scotch and soda, please, my dear.”

“Where are we going for dinner?” she asked, making small talk.

“Ah-ha, that’s a surprise!” he exclaimed.

“You said we were going slumming.”

“I’m taking you to a wonderful Chinese restaurant, rather off the beaten track. But you’ll enjoy it. The place has tremendous local color, and the food is the best Chinese in London. Genuine, too, not the bastardized stuff served in fancy West End restaurants.”