Chapter 4

Jack's heart pounded as he answered the phone. His first thought was that somebody had died.

"Jack?"

It was Suzanne, sounding breathless and sexy.

"Suzanne?"

Jack's heart slowed, but other parts of him felt electrified.

"I'm sorry to call so late," Suzanne said. "Were you asleep?"

"No. It's fine."

"Um, okay," she said. "I was calling to see if the invite for New Years is still good. I've had a change of plans."

Jack's heart skipped a beat. Don't ask, Jack, he thought.

Suzanne continued. "I'd love to go to the party with you. I mean, if you still want me to. Unless you've already asked someone else..."

Jack laughed.

"What?" Suzanne asked.

"I haven't asked anyone else. There's nobody else I'd rather be with."

"Really?" Suzanne said. "I'm so glad."

"Me too, honey."

They spent a few minutes discussing the party. Then Suzanne said, "Alright, well, I'll let you go back to sleep."

"I told you, I'm in bed, but I wasn't sleeping, just thinking," said Jack.

"What were you thinking about?"

"You."

"What?" Suzanne giggled. "You were not."

"Yeah, I was, actually," Jack said.

"What were you thinking about me?"

"You sure you want to know?"

"Yes," Suzanne purred.

"Hmmm. I was thinking about how pretty you are and those sexy eyes and how soft your skin is and how it feels to kiss you, and I was wishing you were here with me now, in my bed," Jack murmured.

Suzanne inhaled quickly through her teeth. "God, Jack. You just took my breath away."

"Good. I'll give it back to you tomorrow night. You have to stay breathless until then."

New Years Eve morning Jack pulled out both of his tuxedos. The newer one was midnight blue, but it reminded him of Maggie too much, and he didn't want to wear it. The other one was older and basic black but still in good shape. It had been tight a few years ago, which is why he had gotten a new one. However, when he tried it on, it fit fine—better than ever, in fact. He had apparently lost weight in the past year of so, with no one cooking for him. He went looking for his studs and cufflinks and then shined his black dress shoes.

Early in the afternoon after running a few errands, Jack stopped at a florist shop. He wasn't sure just what to get, but the lady in the shop, after asking a few pertinent questions, helped him choose. He left the shop carrying a bag and a single long-stemmed red rose.

On the way home, he turned on to a narrow, curving, tree-lined road. He hadn't driven this way in a long while, and the landscape looked a bit different wrapped in its snowy blanket. The black skeletons of trees waved their arms overhead, pointing the way.

Rounding a curve at a sedate pace, Jack drew near to his destination. As a small knoll bearing a naked lilac bush came into view, he pulled the car to the shoulder and parked.

Jack grabbed the rose, got out of the car, and trudged over the knoll, leaving a trail of footprints behind. Feeling around in the snow with the toe of his boot, he struck a smooth, solid surface, and crouched down to brush the snow away with his gloved hand.

He read the name: Margaret Rebecca McCullough 1959 — 2004, Beloved Wife and Mother. Jack removed a glove and laid his hand flat on the cold stone. Tears stung his eyes, and he brushed them away with impatient fingers.

"Maggie," he whispered.

Jack thought of all the things he would say to her if she were there—the kids coming home and how sorry he was that he had neglected them, the wonderful late Christmas, how much he missed her—but he felt she knew all that. He felt that she had, in fact, been with them all along.

Holding the red velvet bud against his lips, he kissed it and gently laid it across the stone.

"I love you, babe," he said, "but I think it's time for me to let you go."

Later, the kids were busy with preparations for their own small, impromptu party with some old friends. They all stopped when Jack came downstairs wearing his tux, his cashmere overcoat folded over his arm.

"Wow," breathed Becky.

"Yeah, you look great, Dad." Jack, Jr. grinned.

They followed Jack into the kitchen, where he retrieved a clear plastic box from the fridge containing one perfect, creamy gardenia tied with a silver ribbon.

"Are you sure this corsage is okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's perfect, Daddy. She'll love it," said Becky.

"I just didn't know if it was appropriate for the occasion. I mean, do people do this anymore?"

Amy smiled up at him and squeezed his arm. "I think it's great, Dad. Very romantic and sweet. Don't worry."

Jack smiled back at the impish little face. Amy had really come out of her shell with him the past couple days which delighted him. He wrapped her in a one-armed hug.

Becky reached around and hugged them both, giggling, and shouted, "Group hug!"

Jack looked at Jack, Jr. over the girls' heads and said, "Learn from the master, Jackson," eliciting even more laughter from the girls.

A half hour later, he was standing at Suzanne's door, florist box in hand and butterflies in his stomach. When she opened the door, it was Jack's turn to lose his breath. She was wearing a silvery gray dress reminiscent of a 1950s movie star with a very full calf-length skirt, tight bodice, and a wide neckline that skimmed the edges of her shoulders and came to a V, front and back.

"Wow!" he said, holding his hand to his heart.

"Do you like it?" Suzanne asked, spinning in a circle on high black velvet heels, her skirt and black tulle petticoats swirling and rustling around her legs.

"You're beautiful," Jack declared, catching her around the waist and planting a kiss on her lips.

"Mmmm, you are too," Suzanne murmured, stepping back and pulling Jack's coat open to reveal his tuxedo and eyeing him appreciatively. "For me?" she asked, tilting her head toward the florist box.

Jack had forgotten he was holding it, so taken was he with the sight and sound and scent of Suzanne.

"You bet." He grinned.

Taking the box and opening it, she reached inside and carefully extracted the delicate bloom, holding it by the stem. She stepped over to the mirror in the entryway and held it up to her dress.

"It's perfect." She smiled at her reflection. "Almost as if you knew what I'd be wearing. Thank you, Jack. I love it."

"I'm glad," said Jack, his doubts about the corsage vanishing.

Suzanne returned it to the box, explaining she would put it on once they got to the party, so as not to crush the fragile petals. She then donned a long, black velvet cape. Grabbing the florist box and her small evening bag, she slipped her arm through Jack's, and they were off.

In the lobby of the hotel they checked their coats, and Suzanne swept into the ladies' room to pin on her corsage and give one last check to her makeup and hair. Jack stood waiting, rubbing his hands together as much in anticipation as from the cold outside.

The party was held in the genteel old ballroom of the Peyton Grand. Creamy white walls flaunted ornate carvings and moldings from a bygone era. Crystal chandeliers graced the ceilings, the lights reflecting off the polished pendants. Guests were seated at large round tables draped with snowy cloths and already set for dinner with gold charger plates and flatware. Napkins folded to resemble swans graced each place setting, and iced bottles of champagne stood guard in silver coolers. Sparkling floral arrangements were centered on each table, and large bouquets of silver and gold helium balloons were anchored around the room.

An orchestra set up at one end of the room was playing "Stardust" as Jack and Suzanne stepped through the big double doors into the room.

"Oh, Jack," Suzanne breathed, taking in the shimmering spectacle.

Jack watched her with delight, wanting nothing more at that moment than to gather her close and kiss those red satin lips. The thought that he might be falling in love squeezed his heart and set it hammering. Suzanne turned and smiled up at him, and the moment passed.

Afterward, Jack would remember the party as a blur of colors and faces, voices, music, champagne, and always Suzanne dancing in his arms. They almost seemed to be standing still as the evening swirled and glittered and rushed around them. Scarcely a moment went by when they weren't touching at least their fingers.

The band was playing "I Only Have Eyes for You," and Jack was holding Suzanne very close, the points of her breasts rubbing against his shirt front. He was dying to see what she had on underneath that dress, visions of corsets and garter belts, swimming through his brain. One of her hands was on the nape of his neck, her thumb whispering into the back of his hair now and then, her lips close to his ear.

"I can't wait to be alone with you," she said.

Jack pulled back and looked into Suzanne's eyes.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm.

"Where are we going," Suzanne asked.

Jack grinned down at her.

"It's a surprise," he said.

They walked out into the hotel lobby and took the elevator to an upper floor, breathlessly staring into each other's eyes. Jack removed an access card from the inside breast pocket of his jacket and put it into the reader. He pushed the door open and held it as Suzanne slipped past him into the room. Jack let the door click shut behind him and went to stand behind Suzanne.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he leaned close to her ear and in a low voice asked, "Is this okay?"

Suzanne leaned back against him, her head against his shoulder and nodded against his neck.

"It's perfect," she whispered, surveying the room in the golden glow of the lamps on either side of the king-size bed, the champagne chilling in a bucket on the dresser, the French doors leading to a balcony, the curtains open to the black night.

Suzanne covered Jack's arms around her waist with her own and held them there for a moment before clasping one of his hands between her own and pressing the palm to her chest just above her left breast.

Jack felt the trip hammer of her heart beating rapidly beneath her ribs.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"Yeah," Suzanne replied. "Are you?"

"Maybe a little," Jack murmured, kissing the side of her neck. "Do you want to go back to the party until midnight?"

Suzanne turned in his arms to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"No," she said. "Do you?"

Jack shook his head and dipped to kiss Suzanne's lips, pulling her tight against him. His fingers played over her tight bodice, then caressed the satiny skin of her back above it. Their kisses deepened, mouths seeking and hungry, tongues grazing. Suzanne's hands trailed across Jack's chest and up under his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. Then she turned her attention to his bowtie.

"Mmmm. Very sexy," she said, pulling it loose.

"My tie?" Jack chuckled.

"Uh-huh," Suzanne replied releasing his collar button and pressing her lips to his throat.

Meanwhile, Jack had been fumbling around the back of Suzanne's dress looking for some type of closure.

"You got a zipper or something, honey?" he asked.

Suzanne stepped back, a teasing smile curving her lips, and very calmly removed the pin from her corsage and lifted the blossom to her nose, her eyes never leaving Jack's. She laid the bloom on the dresser, and lifted her hands to one armpit, found the tiny zipper pull and tugged it down to her waist. Then she raised her arms, apparently waiting for him to lift the dress over her head.

Jack was breathless as he grasped the hem of the dress and pulled it up, careful not to catch Suzanne's hair. She stood before him wearing a strapless black corset and a black petticoat, which she reached behind her to unfasten and let fall to the floor. Jack was hard as a rock and aching just from looking at her. The corset pushed her breasts up, forming creamy swells over the top of it. Garter straps held the lacy tops of her sheer black stockings.

Turning away from Jack, Suzanne stepped carefully out of the petticoat circle and bent to pick it up, showing off smooth, rounded buttocks tethered by a black lace g-string.