the past by a persistent knock on the door. She rallied herself to the occasion and barefooted, went to open it. There stood Mrs. Van Muir ready to wheel in the dinner cart. The room was in total darkness. Quickly, Catherine switched on the bedside lamp.
“How are you this evening, Mrs. Rossi?” Mrs. Van Muir asked, full of solicitude.
“Just fine,” Catherine answered trying not to reveal her inner turmoil. Casually, she asked, “Did anyone inquire about me?”
“No … no, there were no calls.”
Damn it all … have a family, a husband, and nobody gives a damn. She could be lying at the bottom of Grand Canyon as far as any of them were concerned. When Mrs. Van Muir left, Catherine poured herself a large glass of wine and sat down to dinner. It was really the only solace she had at this moment. Removing the silver domes from the platters, she sniffed. The roast beef was done to perfection with all the au jus gravy poured over it, the small new potatoes, buttered and parsleyed, made her pick one up and bite into it as she observed the salad and soup. The hot rolls smelled yeasty and fragrant and at last … at long last, there it sat as cozy as anything, a chocolate frosted napoleon. The only thing that was missing was a little soft music and candlelight. That she couldn’t accommodate herself with, but she turned on the radio. It played softly as she launched into the salad … so crisp, the dressing was positively fabulous. She’d have to ask for the ingredients. The soup was one of her favorites, vichyssoise, cold and subtle. The rest of the dinner was sheer ambrosia and the pièce de résistance, the dessert, so flaky and delicate. Nothing like a scrumptious dinner, polished off with cognac to soothe the savage soul, was there … no, nothing, except a husband to share it with … Goddamn it, Dominic, get out of my thoughts. That’s all I’ve done in the last hours is think about how nice it might’ve been if you were only content to be like other husbands, coming home after a hard day at the office and shuttin’ out the world … but not you … always runnin’ after another dream, reachin’ for a higher star. You should’ve been the first man on the moon. And you could’ve, without Cape Canaveral. She settled back in the large chair and sipped the cognac, but Dominic still was there to haunt her. What the hell was he doing tonight? Wasn’t he the least little bit worried about why she hadn’t followed him to San Diego? Calm down, Catherine, the little voice within her sounded loud and clear … it was like the Mahony boys running after her with pitchforks. Times have changed, Catherine … not like it was a few years ago when you’d go dashin’ off to the Farm trying to punish Dominic for his negligence … or screamin’ and threatenin’ you were goin’ back home to New Orleans … then waitin’ for him to call, which he finally usually did after a week … naturally angry in the beginnin’ because he said you were drivin’ him out of his mind. But did that make me feel guilty? Not a bit. Why? I’ll tell you … for two reasons. First the children were all grown and second I no longer had to worry about him havin’ a lady love in his life ’cause once he got hooked on politics he neither had the time … the urge … nor would he risk the chance of any possible scandal … not like some, I’ll say that for him … One thing about Dominic, he’s a man with a hell of a lot of discipline when it comes to somethin’ he wants and he wanted to be a politician and eventually a United States senator no one could point a finger at … untainted, no stains, that’s our Dominic … wouldn’t jeopardize his name for no one or nothin’. Yes siree, so I guess for that reason I took him for granted in these last years, not having to worry about where he was spending his nights. Oh come, Catherine, give the devil his due… He was never really a card-carryin’, dyed-in-the-wool womanizer. So
“How are you this evening, Mrs. Rossi?” Mrs. Van Muir asked, full of solicitude.
“Just fine,” Catherine answered trying not to reveal her inner turmoil. Casually, she asked, “Did anyone inquire about me?”
“No … no, there were no calls.”
Damn it all … have a family, a husband, and nobody gives a damn. She could be lying at the bottom of Grand Canyon as far as any of them were concerned. When Mrs. Van Muir left, Catherine poured herself a large glass of wine and sat down to dinner. It was really the only solace she had at this moment. Removing the silver domes from the platters, she sniffed. The roast beef was done to perfection with all the au jus gravy poured over it, the small new potatoes, buttered and parsleyed, made her pick one up and bite into it as she observed the salad and soup. The hot rolls smelled yeasty and fragrant and at last … at long last, there it sat as cozy as anything, a chocolate frosted napoleon. The only thing that was missing was a little soft music and candlelight. That she couldn’t accommodate herself with, but she turned on the radio. It played softly as she launched into the salad … so crisp, the dressing was positively fabulous. She’d have to ask for the ingredients. The soup was one of her favorites, vichyssoise, cold and subtle. The rest of the dinner was sheer ambrosia and the pièce de résistance, the dessert, so flaky and delicate. Nothing like a scrumptious dinner, polished off with cognac to soothe the savage soul, was there … no, nothing, except a husband to share it with … Goddamn it, Dominic, get out of my thoughts. That’s all I’ve done in the last hours is think about how nice it might’ve been if you were only content to be like other husbands, coming home after a hard day at the office and shuttin’ out the world … but not you … always runnin’ after another dream, reachin’ for a higher star. You should’ve been the first man on the moon. And you could’ve, without Cape Canaveral. She settled back in the large chair and sipped the cognac, but Dominic still was there to haunt her. What the hell was he doing tonight? Wasn’t he the least little bit worried about why she hadn’t followed him to San Diego? Calm down, Catherine, the little voice within her sounded loud and clear … it was like the Mahony boys running after her with pitchforks. Times have changed, Catherine … not like it was a few years ago when you’d go dashin’ off to the Farm trying to punish Dominic for his negligence … or screamin’ and threatenin’ you were goin’ back home to New Orleans … then waitin’ for him to call, which he finally usually did after a week … naturally angry in the beginnin’ because he said you were drivin’ him out of his mind. But did that make me feel guilty? Not a bit. Why? I’ll tell you … for two reasons. First the children were all grown and second I no longer had to worry about him havin’ a lady love in his life ’cause once he got hooked on politics he neither had the time … the urge … nor would he risk the chance of any possible scandal … not like some, I’ll say that for him … One thing about Dominic, he’s a man with a hell of a lot of discipline when it comes to somethin’ he wants and he wanted to be a politician and eventually a United States senator no one could point a finger at … untainted, no stains, that’s our Dominic … wouldn’t jeopardize his name for no one or nothin’. Yes siree, so I guess for that reason I took him for granted in these last years, not having to worry about where he was spending his nights. Oh come, Catherine, give the devil his due… He was never really a card-carryin’, dyed-in-the-wool womanizer. So
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