beneath the bravado that Charlie treasured in both. And in his own way he loved Samantha, and he had been rocked to the core by what John had done. He had never liked him anyway and had always pegged him for an egocentric ass. John's rapid desertion of Samantha and subsequent marriage to Liz Jones had proved to Charlie that he was right, as far as he was concerned at least. Melinda had tried to understand both sides, but Charlie hadn't wanted to hear it. He was too worried about Sam. She'd been in lousy shape for the past four months, and it showed. Her work had suffered. Her eyes were dead. Her face was gaunt.
“So what's doing, madame? I hope you don't mind my coming over so late.”
“No.” Samantha smiled as she poured him a cup of coffee. “I just wonder how come you're here. Checking up on me?”
“Maybe.” His eyes were gentle above the dark beard. “Do you mind that, Sam?”
She looked up at him sadly and he wanted to take her in his arms. “How could I mind that? It's nice to know someone gives a damn.”
“You know I do. And so does Mellie.”
“How is she? Okay?” He nodded. They never had time to talk about things like that in the office.
“She's fine.” He was beginning to wonder how he was going to lead into what he wanted to tell her. It wasn't going to be easy, and he knew that she might not take it well.
“So? What's up?” Samantha was suddenly looking at him with amusement. He feigned an innocent expression and Samantha tweaked his beard. “You've got something up your sleeve, Charlie. What is it?”
“What makes you say that?”
“It's pouring rain outside, it's freezing cold, it's Friday night, and you could be at home with your warm, cozy wife and your three charming children. It's difficult to imagine that you came all the way over here just for a cup of coffee with me.”
“Why not? You're a lot more charming than my children. But”-he hesitated briefly-“you're right. I didn't just happen to drop by. I came up here to talk to you.” God, it was awful. How could he tell her? He suddenly knew that she'd never understand.
“And? Come on, out with it.” There was a spark of mischief in her eye that he hadn't seen for a long time.
“Well, Sam…” He took a deep breath and watched her closely. “Harvey and I were talking-”
“About me?” She looked instantly uptight, but he nodded and went on. She hated people talking about her now. Because they always talked about how she was and what John had done.
“Yeah, about you.”
“Why? The Detroit account? I'm not sure he understands my concept, but-”
“No, not about the Detroit account, Sam. About you.”
“What about me?” She thought that was over, that they weren't talking about her anymore. There was nothing left to talk about. The separation was over, the divorce had come and gone, and John was married to someone else. She had survived it. So? “I'm fine.”
“Are you? I think that's amazing.” He looked at her with feeling and a trace of the anger he had felt all along for John. “I'm not sure I'd be so fine in your shoes, Sam.”
“I don't have any choice. Besides, I'm tougher than you are.”
“You probably are.” He smiled gently. “But maybe not as tough as you think. Why not give yourself a break, Sam?”
“What's that supposed to mean? Go to Miami and lie on the beach?”
“Why not?” He forced a smile and she looked at him, shocked.
“What are you telling me?” Panic crept rapidly into her face. “Is Harvey firing me? Is that it? Did he send you here to play hatchet man, Charlie? They don't want me anymore because I'm not as cheerful as I used to be?” Just asking the questions, she felt her eyes fill with tears. “Christ, what do you expect? I had a rough time… it was…” The tears began to choke her and she hurriedly stood up. “I'm okay, dammit. I'm fine. Why the hell-” But Charlie grabbed her arm and pulled her back down to her seat with a gentle look in his eyes.
“Take it easy, babe. Everything's okay.”
“Is he firing me, Charlie?” A lone, sad tear crept down her cheek. But Charlie Peterson shook his head.
“No, Sam, of course not.”
“But?” She knew. She already knew.
“He wants you to go away for a while, to take it easy. You've given us enough to run with for a while on the Detroit account. And it won't kill the old man to think about business for a change. We can get along without you, as long as we have to.”
“But you don't have to. This is silly, Charlie.”
“Is it?” He looked at her long and hard. “Is it silly, Sam? Can you really take that kind of pressure and not buckle? Watching your husband leave you for someone else, seeing him on national television every night chatting with his new wife as you watch her pregnant belly growing? Can you really take that in stride without missing a step? Without missing a goddamn day at work, for chrissake, insisting on taking on every new account in the house. I expect you to crack yourself wide open sooner or later. Can you really put yourself on the line like that, Sam? I can't. I can't do that to you, just as your friend. What that son of a bitch did to you almost brought you to your knees, for God's sake. Give in to it, go cry somewhere, let go of it all and then come back. We need you. We need you desperately. Harvey knows that, I know it, the account guys know it, and you damn well better know it, but we don't need you sick or crazy or broken, and that's how you're going to wind up if you don't take the pressure off now.”
“So you think I'm having a nervous breakdown, is that it?” She looked hurt as well as shocked, but Charlie shook his head.
“Of course not. But hell, a year from now, you could. The time to take care of the pain is now, Sam, not later, when it's buried so deep that you can't find it anymore.”
“I've already lived with it for this long. It's been four months.”
“And it's killing you.” It was a flat statement on his part and she didn't deny it.
“So what did Harvey say?” She looked sad as her eyes met those of her friend. She felt somehow as though she had failed, as though she should have been able to handle it better.
“He wants you to go away.”
“Where?” She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Anywhere you want.”
“For how long?”
He hesitated for only an instant before answering. “Three or four months.” What they had decided was that she would be better off away until John and Liz had had their much publicized child. Charlie knew what a blow it was to Samantha, and he and Harvey had talked it out over many a lunch, but neither could have been prepared for the look Charlie saw now on her face. It was a look of total disbelief, of shock, almost of horror.
“
“Your job is a sure thing, Sam. But you've got to do this. You can't push yourself like this anymore. You have to get out of here. Out of this apartment, out of your office, maybe even out of New York. You know what I think? I think you should call that woman you like so much in California and go stay with her. Then come back when it's out of your system, when you're back among the living. It'll do you a hell of a lot of good.”
“What woman?” Samantha looked blank.
“The one you told me about years ago, the one with the horse ranch, Carol or Karen something, the old woman who was the aunt of your college roommate. You used to talk about her as though she were your dearest friend.” She had been. Barbie had been her closest confidante besides John, and they had been college roommates. She had died two weeks after graduation in a plane crash over Detroit.
There was suddenly a gentle smile in Samantha's eyes. “Barbie's aunt… Caroline Lord. She's a wonderful woman. But why on earth would I go there?”
“You like to ride, don't you?” She nodded. “Well, it's a beautiful place and it's about as different and as far from Madison Avenue as you can get. Maybe what you need is to park your fancy business wardrobe and pour that sexy body of yours into some jeans and chase cowboys for a while.”
