“That's quite a boat,” she said, as he handed her the glass of wine. He still hadn't told her about the boat, he had been waiting for the right moment to do so. It was embarrassing, but he knew that sooner or later he'd have to tell her that he owned a yacht. At first it had seemed pretentious to him, but now that they were seeing so much of each other, and exploring the possibility of dating, he wanted to be honest. It was no secret that he was a wealthy man.

“Gray and Adam and I spend the month of August on her every year. That photograph was taken in Sardinia. We had a great time,” he said, somewhat nervously, as she nodded her head and sipped the wine, and then followed him to the couch, and sat down.

“Whose boat is it?” she asked casually. She had told him earlier that her family were all sailors, and she'd spent a lot of time on sailboats in her youth. He was hoping she'd like his boat, even though it was a powerboat, and generally sailors called them “stinkpots.” But there was no question that his was a beauty. “Do you charter it?” She was acting normal, and he smiled at her green face. His lion suit looked just as silly, as he relaxed on the couch and crossed his furry legs, while his lion's tail stuck straight up behind him, and she giggled. They were quite a pair.

“No, we don't charter her.” He answered her second question before her first.

“Is it Adam's?” Charlie had mentioned that he was enormously successful, and that his family had money. He shook his head. And then took a breath.

“No. It's mine.” There was dead silence in the room as she looked into his eyes.

“Yours? You never told me that,” she said, with a look of total surprise. It was an enormous yacht.

“I was afraid you'd disapprove. I'd just come back when we first met. I spend three months on her in Europe every summer, and a couple of weeks in the Caribbean in winter. It's a wonderful place to be.”

“I'm sure it is,” she said pensively. “Wow, Charlie … that's a big deal.”

It was such a visible sign of Charlie's enormous wealth, and in sharp contrast to the way Carole worked and tried to live, and all that she believed. Charlie's fortune was no secret to her, but she lived far more simply and discreetly than he. The hub of her world was the center in Harlem, and the people in it, not a yacht, floating around the Caribbean. In spirit, Charlie knew she was more spartan than he. And he didn't want her to think less of him for his extravagant indulgences. He didn't want to frighten her.

“I hope it's not a deal-breaker for you,” he said quietly. “I'd love you to come on her one day. She's called the Blue Moon.” He felt better having told her about it, although he wasn't sure yet how she felt. She looked a little shocked.

“How big is she?” Carole asked out of curiosity.

“Two hundred and forty feet.” Carole whistled in response, and took a long sip of her wine.

“Jesus…I work in Harlem… and you have a two-hundred-and-forty-foot yacht … there's a discrepancy for you. But on the other hand,” she said, excusing him for the extravagance of it, “you just gave me a million dollars to spend on my kids. I guess if you didn't have that kind of money, you couldn't help us either. So maybe it's a wash.”

“I hope so. I don't want something stupid like a boat to come between us.”

She looked at him solemnly, with loving eyes. “It won't,” she said slowly. “At least I hope it won't.” There was nothing showy about him otherwise, and she could see that it was important to him, and how much he loved his boat. It was just a very, very big boat. “That's a long time to be gone in the summer,” she said pensively.

“Maybe next year you can come with me,” he said hopefully. “And I don't have to stay away as long. I had no pressing reason to come back this year, so I stayed away longer than I usually do. Sometimes I dread coming back here. I get lonely.” He looked around the apartment as he said it, and then back at her. And then he smiled. “I have fun on the boat, especially with Gray and Adam. I can't wait for you to meet them.” But Carole and Charlie weren't quite ready for that yet. They both wanted more time to establish the relationship, and then he thought of something as he looked at her, and put an arm around her. He'd been wanting to do it for days. “So now you know my darkest secret. I have a yacht.”

“Is that as bad as it gets?”

“Yes. I've never been in jail. I've never been prosecuted for a felony, or even a misdemeanor. I have no children, legitimate or otherwise. I've never declared bankruptcy. I've never been married, or stolen some-one's wife. I brush my teeth every night before I go to bed, even if I'm drunk, which doesn't happen too often. I always floss. I pay for my parking tickets. Let's see, what else …” He paused for breath, and she laughed at him. The lion's tail was sticking straight up in the air at the back of the couch.

“You look so silly with that tail.”

“And you, my darling, look absolutely wonderful with a green face.” As soon as he said it, he kissed her, and when he stopped she was out of breath. It had been an evening full of surprises, but so far they were pleasant ones, even though she was a little shocked over the size of his yacht. To her, it looked more like an ocean liner than an ordinary boat. “I've always wanted to kiss a woman with black lips and a green face,” he whispered, and she laughed at what he said. And he kissed her again. She clung to him this time as he did. He was awakening things in her that she had forgotten and repressed for years. She had put her heart and soul into her work, and had forgotten all else. But in Charlie's arms, she remembered now how sweet it was to be kissed, and how much sweeter still to be cherished by a man.

“Thank you,” she whispered as he held her close. She had been so frightened to do that with him, to be close to him, and to let herself take the risk of falling in love again. He had gently led her over the threshold into his private world, and she felt safe with him. Just as he did with her.

He walked her around the apartment then, showed her some of his treasures, and the things he loved most. Photographs of his parents and sister, paintings he had bought in Europe, including a remarkable Degas that hung over his bed. And after she had looked at it for a moment, he led her from the room. It still felt too soon for them to linger in his bedroom, but seeing his Degas led them to talk about the ballet. She told him she used to dance.

“I was very serious about it until I was sixteen, and then I quit,” she said with regret, but he understood her posture better now, and the graceful way she moved.

“Why did you quit?”

She smiled sheepishly as she answered. “I got too tall. I would have been condemned to the back row of the corps de ballet forever. Primas are always small, or they used to be. I think they're taller now, but not as tall as I am.” There were occasional disadvantages to her height, though not many as far as Charlie was concerned, he loved how tall and lithe she was. She managed to remain both elegant and feminine at the same time, and he was considerably taller than she was, so he didn't mind at all.

“Would you like to go to the ballet sometime?” Her eyes lit up as he asked her, and he promised her they'd go. There were so many things he wanted to do with her. The fun had only just begun.

She stayed till nearly midnight, and he kissed her again several times. They wound up in the kitchen finally, where they had a snack before she left. They'd never eaten a proper dinner that night, just a lot of cupcakes and candy, until they made sandwiches and sat at the kitchen table, chatting.

“I know this sounds ridiculous, Charlie.” She was trying to explain to him how she felt. “All my life I've hated extravagance, and the snobbishness and arrogance of rich people. I never wanted to be special, unless I'd earned it. Not because someone I was related to had. I wanted to help poor people, and people who never had any luck. I feel guilty when I do things other people can't, or spend more money than they, so I don't. Not that I can anyway. But if I could, I wouldn't. It's just who I am.” He already knew that about her, so he wasn't surprised. She never spoke of her family, so he had no idea if they had money. Given the way she lived and the life she had devoted herself to, he suspected they didn't. Maybe some, but not much. There was nothing about her, other than her aristocratic good looks, that suggested she came from money. Maybe a good solid family of modest means, and sending her to Princeton had probably been a stretch.

“I understand,” he said quietly as they both finished their snack. “Are you horrified that I have a boat?”

“No,” she said thoughtfully. “It's just not something I would do even if I could. But you have a perfect right to spend your money any way you like. You do a lot of good for people through the foundation. I just always feel I should be living in abject poverty, and giving whatever I have to someone else.”

“Sometimes you have to keep a little and enjoy it yourself.”

“I do. But I'd rather give mine back. I feel guilty for taking a salary at the center. I just figure other people need it more than I do.”

“You have to eat,” he pointed out to her. He felt far less guilty than she. He had inherited an enormous fortune at an early age, and had lived up to the responsibility of it fully over the course of many years. He enjoyed his luxuries, his paintings, the objects he collected, and most of all his boat. He never apologized to anyone for it, except indirectly to Carole now. Their philosophies were very different, but not too different, he hoped.

“Maybe I've been a little too extreme,” she admitted. “Austerity allows me to feel I'm atoning for my sins.”

“I don't see any sins,” he said seriously. “I see a wonderful woman who has given of her life's blood to others, and works herself to the bone. Don't forget to have some fun.”

“I have fun with you, Charlie,” she said softly. “I always do when we're together.”

“So do I.” He smiled and kissed her again. He loved kissing her, and longed to go further, but he didn't dare to yet. He knew how frightened Carole was, of getting too attached, of getting hurt again, and he had his own fears to contend with too. He worried about the same thing, and he was always waiting for the fatal flaw to surface. In her case it was an obvious one, and not a hidden flaw. It was right out in front, like a flag. She came from a different background than he did. She was a social worker, devoted to her work in Harlem, and she was skittish about his world. She wasn't a debutante or a socialite, and if anything she disapproved of his way of life, although she totally approved of him. But the big question for him was whether or not she could overcome her reservations and accept the way he lived. If they were going to be together, and stay together, she was going to have to make her peace with that discrepancy, and so was he. At the moment, he thought they could. It rested more on Carole, at this point, than on him. She was the one who was going to have to be willing to forgive the frivolous extravagances of his world, without wanting to run away from him.

He took her home in a taxi, and kissed her at her front door. She didn't invite him up, but she had told him earlier that her place was a mess. He had never seen her studio, but could well imagine how challenging it was to live in one room. And she led a busy life.

He kissed the tip of her nose before he left her, and she laughed when she saw that he had green lips. Her face was still painted green from the Halloween party that night.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” he promised, as he got back in the cab. “And I'll see about ballet tickets, maybe for next week.” She waved and thanked him again, and then disappeared into the house as he drove off.

His apartment seemed empty without her when he got back. He liked the way she filled his space, his life, his heart.





15


CHARLIE'S SECRETARY TOLD HIM THE NEXT MORNING that she'd gotten tickets to the ballet for Friday night. It was a supposedly excellent production of Giselle, and he left a message for Carole to tell her, and then sat down to open his mail. His new Princeton alumni directory had come, and just for the fun of it, he looked up Carole's name. He knew the year she'd graduated, so it was easy to look up. He flipped through the correct pages, and then frowned when he didn't see her name.

He thought about the year she'd told him, and he went through it again. She wasn't there, which was strange. There was obviously a mistake. He mentioned it to his secretary later that morning, and decided to do Carole a favor, and save her some time, since he was sure she'd want it corrected herself. He asked his secretary to call the alumni office and report the omission to them. He gave her Carole's full name, Carole Anne Parker, and gave the correct year of her graduation.