Page 65 of Wife After Wife
Thirty years old.
What was he doing with his life? Work-wise, everything was going swimmingly. He was pleased with his teams, leaner and meaner after last December’s purge. Company profits were now so healthy they were looking at diversifying, and Harry was considering moving Rose Corp. to brand-new premises. He’d be hands-on with the design. Maybe a tower. Something like Canary Wharf. But taller.
His personal life was a shambles, however. He needed to do something about it. Katie would always hold a special place in his heart, but the love was gone. All that remained was a vague fondness, which gave way to exasperation whenever they attempted a “where to next” conversation. Katie wanted them to have relationship counseling (and prayed for guidance, which made Harry more annoyed). He wanted to move on, but Katie became so upset when he suggested living apart for a while that inevitably he backed down, fearing sending her back tothe darkest days of her depression. So things stayed as they were. Going nowhere.
As for Merry, the sooner he could shake her off, the better. The breathy voice he’d once found so alluring now set his teeth on edge.
Meanwhile, his obsession with Ana had strengthened its grip. He’d been biding his time. Would his gamble pay off? He’d felt sure Percy’s exile to Dublin would be the catalyst for a meltdown in that relationship. Ana was hugely ambitious; any fool could see that. She wasn’t going to give up her skyrocketing career for art editor ofCatholic Weekly, orIrish Homes and Gardens, or whatever the good people of Dublin liked to read.
Would she and Percy go the long-distance relationship route, only meeting up on weekends? Harry’s guess was they’d give that a try. If they did, he’d intensify his campaign. She’d be bored during the week. Perhaps they could make up a regular four with Charles and Megan on the tennis court again. And he’d instigate plenty of late nights at the office. Late nights with... input from himself.
He shifted in his seat as the image of Ana’s deep brown eyes and willowy body filled his head. She’d be his, he was certain. He just needed to time it right, plan it carefully.
Harry smiled. There really was nothing like the thrill of the chase.
•••
There was a quiet knock on the door of Harry’s office. He was an open-door man, but his secretary, Janette, always knocked first and waited to be called in.
She was half-hidden behind an enormous bunch of red roses.
“Blooming hell,” said Harry. “Someone’s gone to town.”
Janette giggled. “There are thirty. I counted them. Happy birthday, Harry! Oh, but... no, they’re not from me.” She blushed. Janette did that a lot.
She lifted the bouquet higher in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. “Shall I put them in water?”
“Keep them, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m not much of a flower man, in spite of the name.”
She pulled off the card, passing it to Harry. “Thanks! And... can I double-check you don’t have any plans for lunchtime?”
Harry knew something was being organized. Janette had blocked it off in his diary weeks ago. Probably staff drinks in the boardroom with a glass of el cheapo champagne, a cake, and the oversized card he’d spotted doing the rounds yesterday.
“I’ll be here.”
He opened the envelope as she left. The card read:
My love is like a red, red rose.
Happy birthday, my love. So sorry I can’t be with you today.
With all my love forever, Merry X
He dropped it in the bin.
At noon, Janette knocked again. Harry looked up from his team’s report on how best to take advantage of the new information age. It blew his mind. In twenty years’ time, it said, not only would almost every household in the Western world have a computer linked to the World Wide Web, but magazines and newspapers would be losing swathes of readers, not to mention advertisers, as news and gossip went online. People would be getting their fix on their computers.
Really?
“Yes, Janette?”
“We wondered if you could come to the boardroom, Harry.” She gave a little giggle. “I’m sure you can guess why.”
“I’ll be there in ten. And by the way, you look nice today.”
She blushed, of course, and mumbled, “Gosh, thank you!” before scuttling away.
It didn’t hurt to throw her a compliment every now and again. Janette was worth keeping sweet—easy on the eye, worked like a dog, excellent at fielding troublesome phone calls, and probably a little in love with him.
