“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.
