“There aren't a lot of single women in Greenwich, and if you're thinking of moving, it sounds like you're on your own.” She nodded, but didn't ask him any of the same questions. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, and she didn't want to look anxious. And when the pilot announced that it was their last chance to get up and move around, she left her seat and waited for the bathroom. She was standing right outside the galley, as the flight attendant looked at her. It was the one who had just served them, and she smiled at Paris and approached to speak in a subdued voice.
“It's none of my business, but you may want to know. He's married, and has a wife and four kids in Stamford. Two of the women on this flight have gone out with him and he doesn't share that information. He commutes out here. I saw him talking to you, and we girls have to stick together. Of course, maybe it doesn't bother you. But it's good to know anyway. He won't tell you himself that he's married, at least he never tells us. We found out from another regular on the flight, who knows his wife.”
“Thank you,” Paris said, looking stunned as the bathroom became vacant. “Thanks a lot,” and then went in to wash her hands and comb her hair, and as she did, she looked at herself in the mirror. It was a big bad world out there full of creeps and jerks and cheaters. The likelihood of finding a good one seemed about as great as finding a needle in the proverbial haystack. Nothing was impossible, but to Paris at least, it seemed extremely unlikely, and she didn't want a man anyway. The last thing she wanted was to get involved with anyone. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would never remarry. Peter had cured her. All she could do now, in her opinion, was get used to being alone.
She went back to her seat with freshly combed hair, neatly done in a braid down her back, and carefully applied lipstick, and her seatmate looked at her appreciatively. A moment later he handed her his business card, and she took it from him and held it in her hand.
“I'm staying at the Four Seasons. Call me if you have time for dinner. Where are you staying?” he asked pleasantly.
“With my son,” she lied. But after what she'd just heard, she wasn't planning to give him any information. She knew more than enough about him. “I think we'll be pretty busy,” she said casually as she put the card in her purse.
“Call me in New York when you go back,” he said, and as he did, they landed with a thump and taxied down the runway at SFO. “Do you need a ride into town?” he asked helpfully, and she smiled, thinking with empathy about his wife.
“No, thanks, I have friends waiting. But thanks for the offer,” she said blithely. And as he saw her climb into a cab alone twenty minutes later, he raised an eyebrow and caught her eye. She waved, as they took off for the city, and as soon as she got to the hotel, she threw away his card.
