No More Lonely Nights (35 page)

First in a trickle, then in a riotous throng, the crowd began to arrive. As Dominique and Clay watched from the mezzanine, each guest stopped short to exclaim on the decor. Even from a distance, Dominique could hear their cries of delight.

“This is just how I pictured it,” she confessed to Clay. “Look at those costumes! Everyone’s gotten into the spirit of Carnevale!”

On cue, a bevy of wildly dressed women tumbled through the door. There were hoopskirts and capes, feathers and glitter, lace and lame.

There were wide picture hats and foot-high wigs. Their escorts, just behind them, were as lavishly outfitted as courtiers in the time of Louis XIV. Many, in fact, wore satin breeches and brocade jackets reminiscent of earlier centuries. But most impressive were the elaborate masks. Intricately handcrafted confections sporting grotesque leers, Pinocchio noses, or delicate cat’s eyes trimmed in rhinestones.

No sooner had the first guests moved on than the second group appeared, this one dressed in long dominoes of satin and velvet. Behind them was a quartet in black tie and ball gowns, carrying exquisite masks.

Dominique and Clay had chosen this more simple dress, as Dominique hadn’t wished to hamper her movements with an elaborate costume. Instead, she carried a silver mask decorated on either side with ice-blue plumes, and Clay held a black-and-gold mask on the end of a wand. The masks, like those of many of the guests below, were family heirlooms, lovingly brought out each year at Mardi Gras, then carefully packed away in tissue when the celebration was over.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne, which Dominique declined. “I still have to work,” she reminded Clay.

“I don’t!” he said firmly. He put down his empty glass and reached for a full one. “Cheers,” he said, and took a long swallow. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll see you later.”

Dominique watched fondly as he plunged into the festivities, calling down to friends on the level below.

The volume of noise was high—and rising with each new arrival. People were mixing freely and, in true New Orleans form, consuming huge amounts of liquor. Groups of men were clustered around each of the room’s four bars, smoking and laughing. Already a thin blue haze floated near the ceiling.

It occurred to Dominique that she should order the fans turned up higher. She went to the house phone on the wall near the elevator and called the custodian standing by for just such eventualities. A few seconds later, she returned to the rail, scanning for trouble. She was pleased to see that the “canal” was an unqualified success. People were queued on the bridges for rides in the little gondolas—delighted by the novelty.

“Could I persuade you to take a ride with me?” A deep voice behind Dominique interrupted her thoughts.

She knew without turning that it was Mark. Suddenly she was excruciatingly aware of her bare shoulders, her plunging bodice. At once, Dominique stifled the thought. She turned and held out her hand with a smile. “I’m afraid I’m on duty this evening. But you should definitely try it and tell me how it is.” She gave him a warm look. “How are you?”

He took her hand without replying. His eyes held hers and she sensed that he wanted to say something far more intimate than he should. She eased her hand from his. The impression of his fingers left a warm feeling on her skin, like a footprint in the sand.

She said lightly, “It seems as though it’s going to be a successful evening.”

Mark smiled, a wide, dancing smile that charmed Dominique. He gestured at the canal below. “I’m truly amazed by all this. I’ve never seen anything like it. I know you told me about it, but I never had a clear picture of what it would look like. Everyone’s going to be talking about it tomorrow!”

“I have to earn my keep.” It was disturbing when he looked at her that way. He meant nothing to her, of course. He was no more than a friend. Still, his unfettered admiration was… somehow unsettling.

Mark’s expression changed. Now he cocked his head with curiosity. “How much do events like these really do for sales?”

“That’s a good question.” Dominique was relieved to be talking business. She placed one hand on the banister and shifted her weight to the opposite foot—a pose that indicated she was prepared to chat a while. “Quite a large effect, actually. Not only in sales immediately following the event, but in overall trends for the store. Orman’s is still fairly new. We’re trying to create a certain image, and events like these help. They also ingratiate us with the community. This is the first time we’ve attracted so many prominent New Orleanians,” she said, giving Mark a grateful smile. “Thanks to you.”

Mark smiled back. He loved to watch her eyes as she spoke. When she talked about her work, he could see her enthusiasm and vigor. That was how he felt about his work, too, and he liked to think they had traits in common. “The success of this event has more to do with you than me.” Mark touched her arm lightly when he said the word “you.” He wanted an excuse to touch her, to move closer to her. The momentary contact left a tingle at the tip of his finger.

Dominique unconsciously put her hand over the spot where he had touched her. She rubbed it softly as she spoke. “I think a lot of the success is due to community enthusiasm. New Orleanians love attending these things. A lot of New Yorkers have a more jaded attitude.”

Mark looked around the room, then turned back to Dominique with a smile. “I can’t imagine anyone being too jaded to appreciate this. It’s incredible!”

They had somehow shifted positions and were now standing side by side overlooking the ground floor. Dominique’s bare arm almost touched the dark wool of Mark’s dinner jacket. Occasionally, when she gestured, she felt the cloth brushing her arm, the heat rising from his body. Subtly, she inched away, then pushed off from the rail and pivoted to face him. He mirrored her movement. Dominique noticed a bit of lint on his lapel and had the urge to pluck it off. She knew it would please him if she did. She was a person who used her hands when she spoke and often reached out to touch the person to whom she was speaking. But she was very careful not to touch Mark. She left the lint where it was. Looking up at him, she asked, “Did you come alone?”

“No,” he said. He gave a cursory glance around the mezzanine, then turned back to Dominique. “My date’s around here somewhere. Do you know Nina Rivers?”

Dominique felt a thrill of curiosity. It was the first time Mark had ever mentioned a woman. “Her father owns Rivers Oil, doesn’t he? I think he bought a table.”

Mark nodded. “I actually know him better than I know her,” he explained unnecessarily. “But it’s not much fun to come to these things alone.” He wanted her to know it was nothing serious… but why? What was the use?

Dominique lowered her eyelids and made a moue with her lips. “Shouldn’t you try to find her?”

Mark shrugged. “She knows everybody here. She doesn’t need me to have a good time.” He paused, wondering if he sounded boorish. He didn’t want Dominique to think that of him. He flushed and went on, more uncertainly. “I mean… I’ll find her before we go in to dinner, but she has a lot of friends she wants to say hello to.”

Dominique saw his embarrassment and thought it adorable. He really was such a nice person! She smiled reassuringly.

“Dominique.” Mark didn’t know why he had spoken her name. He had just wanted to say it. But he had to get hold of himself. It was ridiculous the effect she had on him. He had to keep reminding himself that she was married. Happily married.

“Mark, what is it? You have such a peculiar look.” Instinctively, Dominique put a hand on his forearm. Mark covered her hand with his, and she immediately pulled back, as if she had been burned. Then she was ashamed of herself. Why should she jerk away as though he were poisonous?

Unspoken words hung in the air. Mark gave her a weak half-smile and said, “Nothing’s wrong.” He paused. “I hope you’ll save a dance for me after dinner.” He was surprised that he sounded normal, friendly.

“It’s the least she can do!” Clay’s hearty voice broke the spell.

Mark looked up, as startled as a burglar caught breaking into a safe.

Dominique took a step away from him. She looked from Clay to Mark and back again. Then she reached for her husband’s arm with a welcoming smile.

Clay put out his hand and gave Mark a broad grin. “Clay Parker,” he said. “We’ve met a couple of times over at the capitol. Dominique’s told me about your work on the gala. Mighty generous of you to have given so much of your time.”

Mark responded with equal bonhomie. “I’m ashamed to say I foisted most of the work off on Dominique. But I think it was a wise move. It looks like it’s going to be a big success.” Mark was an inch or so shorter than Clay, and Dominique saw him straighten his spine and square his shoulders.

Clay casually draped his arm around Dominique. “All that talent and looks, too,” he remarked. He had a spot of bright color on each cheek and his drawl was more pronounced than usual. Though he was by no means slurring his words, Dominique could tell that he had drunk quite a bit. She was acutely aware of Mark’s scrutiny of her husband and she suddenly felt embarrassed for Clay, though she knew it was ridiculous to think that someone would look down on him for a slight overindulgence. In New Orleans, a man was admired for being able to hold his liquor, but if he lost control once in a while no one thought the worse of him. Clay was nowhere near that point, so Dominique couldn’t understand why she felt him to be at a disadvantage with Mark. But the impression aroused a protective loyalty in her.

“Clay’s been very understanding about the time I’ve had to devote to this project,” Dominique said, keeping her eyes fixed on her husband.

Mark smiled politely. “Well, I’d better not take up any more of it. I’m sure you have plenty to do. And I need to go and find Miss Rivers.” He gave Dominique a little bow, then put out his hand to Clay. “Pleasure seeing you again, Clay.”

Clay’s expression was ingratiating. “Hope to see you soon.” He gave Mark a hearty handshake.

The couple watched Mark disappear into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Clay turned to his wife. “You haven’t forgotten about inviting him to dinner, have you?”

Dominique raised one shoulder and let it drop. “The opportunity didn’t come up,” she replied, not meeting Clay’s eyes. She knew very well that Mark would accept her dinner invitation.

“We shouldn’t let this chance slip by,” Clay reminded Dominique. “In a couple of weeks, he’ll have forgotten who you are.” His voice rose decisively. “I’m going to ask him myself. After dinner, when everyone’s relaxing.” He paused for a moment, lost in thought. Then his face brightened. “Maybe I should invite Nina Rivers with him! Her father’s oil company uses Seaward Shipping instead of us.” Clay was already envisioning a lucrative new client and a helpful new friend in the legislature.

Dominique tried to think of a diplomatic way to discourage him from issuing the invitations. But before she could speak, Clay let out a low whistle and said, “Boy, that Patout sure is a lucky fellow!”

Dominique followed his gaze. Across the room, Mark stood with a statuesque blonde of the same aristocratic style as actress Grace Kelly. Dominique had once or twice seen Nina Rivers’ photo in the society page, but she’d never seen the woman in person. She was exquisite. Unconsciously, Dominique shook her head. If she told Clay about Mark’s crush on her, he would accuse her of being delusional!

THE WEEK after Christmas, Clay surprised Dominique with a four-day trip to New York. They spent one evening with Dominique’s former co-workers, Bruce, Maude, Lucinda, and Lucinda’s new fiancé, a polished Wall Street investment banker. The remaining time was devoted to family. Clay insisted on taking his nieces, Lana and Monique, to FAO Schwarz and spoiling them with new toys. For Solange and Danielle, there were huge bottles of French perfume, and for Ron, who had recently discovered an obsession with golf, a sleek new driver.

“We’ll be paying these bills for months!” Dominique gently scolded.

He shrugged off her caution. “It’ll be okay.”

It was impossible not to be warmed by Clay’s extravagance; it touched her that he wanted so much for her family to like him.

Then, in April, shattering news threw Clay’s own family into disarray.

The phone call came near dawn when Dominique was home alone, Clay on a business trip to Los Angeles. She barely recognized the broken voice on the other end as that of Lenore Parker, her mother-in-law.

“Dominique, I’m at the hospital. It’s Clay…”

Dominique jolted upright in bed, uncomprehending. “Clay!” she cried. “What’s wrong with him?” Why would Lenore be calling her about Clay?

“Oh, God!” Lenore sobbed. “I mean Clay’s daddy. He’s… he’s had a heart attack. He”—the woman choked on her words—“he didn’t make it!” No sooner had she uttered the phrase than she broke down completely. “I don’t know what to do next! Clay has to come right away!” More sobbing.

Dominique, numb, tried to murmur some words of comfort. “I’ll call him at his hotel. He has the company plane. He can leave right away.”

A lost wail from Lenore. “But what am I supposed to do? I’m all alone. Clay’s daddy always took care of everything…”

Dominique tried to clear her thoughts. In a decisive voice, she said, “I’ll come right away. I’ll call Aunt Ellen and Aunt Anne.” Lenore’s sister and sister-in-law. She raised her voice to be heard over the sobbing. “Don’t worry, Lenore, I’ll be there in a few minutes and I’ll take care of everything.”

Luckily, Dominique reached Clay at once. He reacted to the news with silence. Dominique assumed he was too stunned to speak. Then, all at once, his voice came over the line, steady and crisp. “I’ll leave now. Tell Mother I’ll handle everything.”

For the next week, Dominique barely saw Clay. He was embroiled in a plethora of morbid details, on the phone constantly—to the funeral home, the office, the Parker Shipping branches. He reassured clients, scheduled a meeting of the company’s top officers, and contacted Parker relatives throughout the country. He was head of the family now—that was clear.