Read Online The War of the Roses: The Children by Warren Adler - Free Book Online

later, realizing he was hopelessly engaged emotionally, he called her.
    â€œHave you assessed my condition?” he asked, deliberately larding his approach with lightness and humor.
    â€œYes, I have.”
    â€œVeddy dire. Right?”
    â€œVeddy.”
    â€œI would like to discuss this case further, Counselor. A lengthy discussion, I’m afraid. Easily it will consume the time of drinks and dinner.”
    She offered a surprisingly girlish giggle and he knew she had accepted his offer.
    They met at a dimly lit, romantic Italian restaurant in the Village, which offered an ambiance that was the opposite of any professional pretension. Candles stuck in the mouths of empty Chianti bottles lighted the tables softly. In that light she looked particularly radiant and he could not keep his eyes from staring into hers. Why, he wondered. Why her? He had never experienced moments like this before.
    He wanted to know everything about her life, to plumb the depths of her, to turn her inside out. But rather than push it in her face, he opted for keeping the conversation initially pointed in his direction.
    â€œWhat exactly does a creative director in an advertising agency do?” she had asked.
    â€œMy job is to find different ways of communicating,” he said with some pride. Knack of unique expression was his special skill and considered high talent in the advertising business. “I’m a specialist in enticement. I find ways to buttonhole people through images and ideas.”
    â€œIn other words, your objective is to make people buy things they might not have thought about buying.”
    He hadn’t expected her directness. Although her looks belied the fact, especially in candlelight, her comment put things in perspective. He had probably fantasized away her hard edge.
    â€œOkay then, let he or she who is without sin cast the first stone,” he said pointedly.
    â€œMight as well clear the air before we get too deep into this,” she said laughing.
    â€œInto what?”
    â€œInto us.”
    He was stunned by her candor. But she was exactly right.
    â€œYou sure don’t leave much room for subtlety,” he said.
    She shrugged, shook her head, and took a deep sip of the wine.
    â€œI’m sorry, Josh. I’m always lousing up the ritual.” She sipped again and they silently inspected each other.
    â€œI was hoping we could dispense with it.”
    â€œThat would imply we’ve already come to some agreement.”
    â€œMaybe we have and don’t know it.”
    â€œMaybe,” she agreed, lifting her glass. He lifted his and tapped hers. Then they drank.
    â€œThis is beyond belief,” he told her. “I’ve been avoiding this moment forever.”
    â€œSo have I.”
    â€œTo tell you the truth I’m very confused by it.”
    â€œMe too.”
    â€œAre we getting too personal?”
    â€œYes,” she sighed.
    â€œI think I better order,” he said.
    She listened while he made elaborate inquiries of the authentically Italian waiter, showing his own expertise, soliciting Victoria’s approval of his choices. He ordered
rotelle al vitello
,
ossibuchi al pomodoro
, and
anatra all’arancia
.
    He looked at Victoria and winked.
    â€œCartwheel pasta, veal shank with tomato, and roast duck with orange sauce.”
    â€œYou seem to know a lot about Italian food,” she said.
    â€œI was hoping you’d be impressed,” he replied, thinking of Evie, sensing the need to provide her with a historical perspective of himself. Better sooner than later, he decided. “My mother was a great cook and a caterer.”
    â€œWas?”
    Calculating her interest, he plunged forward.
    â€œShe was killed. My father as well.”
    She appeared stunned and for a moment offered no comment.
    â€œYou are good at it, Josh.”
    â€œGood at what?”
    â€œGetting people’s attention.”
    â€œI was hoping it would