KATE PEERED OUT THE WINDOW of the black cab and caught her breath. She and Trevor were on the way to Covent Garden and London glided past them like pages in a glossy coffee table book. They passed the Savoy Hotel with its striped canopies and Balthazar London with its picture windows and the Noël Coward Theatre. And the shops! She was dying to sample the fragrances at Jo Malone and stroke the supple leather goods at Aspinal. Just seeing the patterned silk blouses at Ted Baker was like reading a copy of Vogue.
Her hair was knotted in a loose chignon and she felt like Anne Hathaway in The Princess Diaries. A silver box had arrived at her suite while she was getting ready. Inside was a pair of long white gloves with a note from Trevor saying he was looking forward to their evening.
She couldn’t possibly wear them with her black cocktail dress, so she made a quick trip to Harvey Nichols. She tried on a rose-colored Jenny Packham gown and teal strapless Alexander McQueen. She finally settled on a floral embroidered pink satin gown and paired it with silver pumps and diamond stud earrings.
Now the cab turned onto Bow Street and stopped in front of the Royal Opera House. It had Greek columns and marble steps covered with a plush red carpet. And the people! Women in gowns like bright shades of lipstick and men wearing cashmere overcoats.
“Remember when we were at St Andrews and I begged you to go to the Royal Opera House?” Kate peered out the window.
“We were studying Romeo and Juliet and the Royal Ballet was giving a performance,” Trevor recalled. “Some students were driving to London for the weekend. They stayed in their parents’ flat in Kew and returned with bottles of Rémy Martin filched from their parents’ private collection.”
“We could have gone,” Kate said. “It wouldn’t have cost you a thing.”
“Sit in the back of some student’s Range Rover for eight hours? I was only invited because you refused to go without me,” he sniffed. “There was a perfectly good production at the Edinburgh Opera House. We took the bus and afterward ate fish and chips and toured the Scottish National Gallery.”
“I couldn’t go without you. We were study partners,” she reminded him. “It would have been fun. The group went dancing at Annabel’s and had brunch the next day at the Savoy.”
“We’re here now.” His eyes softened. “You look beautiful, Kate. I’m glad you came.”
“I couldn’t refuse.” She smiled. “Where else will I ever wear long white gloves?”
They entered a foyer with red velvet wallpaper and crystal chandeliers. Red sofas were scattered over Oriental rugs and there was a champagne bar with burgundy-upholstered chairs.
“I’m glad I didn’t buy the red Halston,” Kate laughed. “I would have clashed with the décor.”
“You would only have made it more eye-catching,” Trevor offered.
A woman in her early thirties approached them. She wore a peach organza gown and emerald earrings.
“Trevor!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing in London? I thought you’d be at Yardley Manor. I’m so disappointed Craig and I are missing Susannah’s house party.”
“I had business in town,” Trevor said evasively. “I doubt I’ll be missed, I always get in the way. I give away our hand in bridge and misread Susannah’s prompts at charades. The house party will run smoothly without me.”
“Nonsense,” the woman laughed. “You know everything about math and taught us how to play chess.” She turned to Kate. “I’m Jane Davies.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you,” Trevor apologized. “Kate is an old friend from St Andrews.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand. “Susannah and Trevor give the best parties. That reminds me—” She turned to Trevor. “We’re spending April in Cornwall and you and Susannah must come. We just redecorated the house.”
“I’ll put it on the calendar,” Trevor said as the bell chimed. “It’s time to go in.”
“You look somehow familiar,” Jane said to Kate. “Have we already met?”
“I don’t think so.” Kate shook her head. “I live in New York.”
“I love New York,” Jane mused. “Everyone is in a hurry and the skyline is spectacular. It was wonderful to see you, Trevor. Tell Susannah I’m devastated I’ll miss her plum pudding.”
Trevor led Kate to the box and she glanced eagerly at the stage. A white Christmas tree reached the ceiling and a pink rug was littered with wrapped boxes. Stockings hung from the stone fireplace and a round table held cakes and dried fruit.
The ballerina who played Clara was lovely and the Nutcracker was handsome and brave. In the second act the stage was transformed to the Land of Snow and Kate almost felt cold. Snowflakes covered the ground and trees were strung with icicles and the corps de ballet wore white tutus and white satin ballet slippers.
They entered the lobby and Trevor bought glasses of champagne.
“I love the ballet.” Kate sipped her champagne. “When I was a girl, I played a mouse in the local production of The Nutcracker. The next year I was promoted to Mouse King because I was the tallest girl in the class,” she laughed. “My ballet career didn’t last long after that.”
“I will miss having a box,” Trevor mused. “Susannah will get it in the divorce, along with Yardley Manor and most of the people in our contacts.” He sighed. “I have my club membership and the dogs. Though the dogs may not be happy. At Yardley Manor they get fed goose and sirloin tips.”
“Susannah won’t get all your friends. That woman, Jane, was eager to have you as a houseguest,” she reminded him.
“Jane doesn’t know we’re getting a divorce.” He shrugged. “Susannah wanted to keep it quiet until after the house party. It’s easier to be festive when you’re not discussing solicitors or who gets the didgeridoo Prince Harry gave us for our wedding.”
“Did Prince Harry really give you a didgeridoo?” she laughed.
“He brought it back from Australia. At first I thought it was some kind of primitive weapon. But then Harry showed me how to play it, and I quite liked it.”
A woman approached them and Kate recognized Jane.
“I hope I’m not interrupting, but I kept thinking about Kate during the ballet.” Jane joined them. “I remember where we met.”
“You do?” Kate wondered.
“It was at a Christmas house party in Scotland a dozen years ago,” Jane answered. “It was at one of those huge estates that never runs out of bedrooms. There was sledding and an amateur production of a Noël Coward play.” She fiddled with her earrings. “You were with Ian Cunningham. I remember the first time I saw you, in front of the fire in the drawing room. You had white-blond hair and a tan complexion.
“To be honest, we wanted Ian to date someone from our own circle,” she continued. “But you were such a good sport during the snowball fight and taught everyone how to make American s’mores.” She paused. “By the end of the week we were hoping you were a couple.”
Kate glanced at Trevor and his cheeks were pale. He gripped his champagne flute so tightly she was afraid it might break.
“Ian and I didn’t work out,” Kate said quickly. “We broke up a long time ago.”
“It’s a pity,” Jane said. “You would have made a wonderful addition to the group. Ian was clearly smitten with you.”
Jane drifted away and Kate turned to Trevor. His brow was furrowed and there were lines around his mouth.
“This has been lovely, but I should go,” she said. “I’ll call a cab. You can stay and have a proper dinner.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“The past is all around us.” She waved her hand. “At your private club and the Royal Opera House and at house parties in the British countryside. We can’t pretend nothing happened and we’re just going to get hurt.” She tried to smile. “It’s better if we become Facebook friends and send each other messages on our birthdays.”
“You can’t leave yet,” he urged. “I want to show you something.”
“What is it?” she wondered.
“It’s a surprise,” he answered. “You won’t be disappointed.”
Trevor flagged a cab and they drove to Hampstead. The taxi stopped in front of a stone building with an iron gate.
“Where are we?” she asked, stepping onto the pavement.
“Do you remember the night we first met and I took you to see the James Gregory Telescope? This is the Hampstead Observatory.” He led her inside. “It was founded in 1898. It’s the only observatory in London that’s open to the public.”
“We’re going to stargaze wearing formal attire?” she laughed.
“It’s like those nights at St Andrews when everyone got dressed up for a dance, and it was so boring they left early. They lounged around the quad in dinner jackets and evening gowns and saw who could toss cigarette butts the farthest.”
“You never joined us,” she recalled. “You sat at the desk in your room and looked down as if we were a group of thugs.”
“I’m here now.” He took her hand and led her up a circular staircase. “Wait until you see Orion and Pluto.”
At the top of the staircase was a room with rounded windows. Kate peered through the telescope and gasped. The stars were so close they were like diamonds on some fabulous tiara.
“I haven’t looked through a telescope in years.” She stepped away. “Nobody stargazes in New York. There’s so much to do, it’s impossible to just stand and look at the sky.”
“Nothing is impossible if you want it badly enough,” Trevor murmured.
“Trevor,” she said and felt a sudden uncertainty, like when she was ice-skating in Central Park and the ice was slightly cracked. She didn’t know whether to keep skating or turn back.
“You’re bright and beautiful and full of life,” he whispered. “What I really want is to kiss you.”
He moved closer and wrapped his arms around her. His kiss was warm and she tasted champagne and butter.
“Trevor, wait.” She pulled away. “You’re just separated and I’m leaving in a few days.”
Trevor ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath.
“You’re right. I got carried away by the ballet and the champagne and the stars,” he said.
“It is beautiful here.” She moved to the window and gazed at the sky. “I’m glad we came.”
He straightened his tie and a smile crossed his face. “Should we go? We don’t want to get caught making out, like two students sneaking into a chemistry lab.”
She walked over to him and kissed him lightly on the mouth. He kissed her back and she inhaled his musk aftershave.
“Now we can go.” She nodded and started down the stairs.
* * *
Kate stood at the window of her suite and sipped a glass of sherry. It was almost midnight and a thick fog had settled over the sidewalk. Silver Rolls-Royces were shrouded in mist and she could see the faint outline of Hyde Park.
Kissing Trevor at the observatory had been wonderful, but it couldn’t lead to anything. She had a busy career and Trevor was starting a divorce.
She had never been able to separate love and attraction. They were stuck together like the leads in a romantic movie: they always started out having a casual fling but ended up standing at the altar.
And she and Trevor could cause each other so much pain. Trevor’s whole body tensed when the woman at the ballet mentioned Ian. Ian’s name would keep popping up and it would be like living with an unexploded bomb.
She flashed on the house party Jane had mentioned. She had been stranded at St Andrews and Ian had rescued her.
* * *
Kate opened her textbook and fiddled with her pencil. It was finals week and Mitchells was crammed with students lugging heavy backpacks and drinking endless cups of coffee. Their eyes were rimmed and they wore baggy sweatpants and St Andrews sweatshirts.
She and Ian had had a lovely time at the Snowdrop Ball. He kept her champagne glass filled and was a wonderful dancer. But when they returned to the residence hall, his lips barely brushed her cheek.
She had only seen him a few times since, and he was usually in the middle of a group. Once he called her name while she was crossing the quad. When she turned around, he was flanked by two girls in sheepskin coats and fur boots like a rock star arriving at the airport.
Now Trevor walked toward her table, carrying a Styrofoam coffee cup. His hair fell over his forehead and his socks didn’t match.
“How can you drink more coffee?” She shuddered. “It’s only noon and it’s your fourth cup. You need to eat something—a slice of shepherd’s pie or a sausage roll.”
“I can’t afford coffee and food at the same time. The only important thing is staying awake.” He set the cup on the table. “I’ve even given up fighting with the dryer for a matching pair of socks. It’s like a fire-breathing dragon. I wear whatever it spits out.”