Rage of Angels by Sidney Sheldon

“You’re remarkable.”

“Thank you.” She gently traced his face with her fingertips and smiled. “My dearest Adam. I’ll always be your best friend. Always.” Then she came closer and put her head on his shoulder. He could hardly hear her soft voice. “It’s been such a long time since you held me in your arms, Adam. You wouldn’t have to tell me you love me, but would you—would you like to—hold me in your arms once more and make love to me? Our last time together?”

 

 

Adam was thinking of this now as he said to Jennifer, “The divorce was Mary Beth’s idea.”

Adam went on talking, but Jennifer was no longer listening to the words; she was only hearing the music. She felt as though she were floating, soaring. She had steeled herself for Adam to tell her he could never see her again—and now this! It was too much to absorb. She knew how painful the scene with Mary Beth must have been for Adam, and Jennifer had never loved Adam more than she did at this moment. She felt as though a crushing load had been lifted from her chest, as though she could breathe again.

Adam was saying, “Mary Beth was wonderful about it. She’s an incredible woman. She’s genuinely happy for both of us.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“You don’t understand. For some time now we’ve lived more like…brother and sister. I’ve never discussed it with you, but—” he hesitated and said carefully, “Mary Beth doesn’t have strong…drives.”

“I see.”

“She’d like to meet you.”

The thought of it disturbed Jennifer. “I don’t think I could, Adam. I’d feel—uncomfortable.”

“Trust me.”

“If—if you want me to, Adam, of course.”

“Good, darling. We’ll go for tea. I’ll drive you out.”

Jennifer thought for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better if I went alone?”

 

 

The following morning, Jennifer drove out the Saw Mill River Parkway, headed upstate. It was a crisp, clear morning, a lovely day for a drive. Jennifer turned on the car radio and tried to forget her nervousness about the meeting facing her.

The Warner house was a magnificently preserved house of Dutch origin, overlooking the river at Croton-on-Hudson, set on a large estate of rolling green acres. Jennifer drove up the driveway to the imposing front entrance. She rang the bell and a moment later the door was opened by an attractive woman in her middle thirties. The last thing Jennifer had expected was this shy southern woman who took her hand, gave her a warm smile and said, “I’m Mary Beth. Adam didn’t do you justice. Please come in.”

Adam’s wife was wearing a beige wool skirt that was softly full, and a silk blouse opened just enough to reveal a mature but still lovely breast. Her beige-blond hair was worn long and slightly curling about her face, and was flattering to her blue eyes. The pearls around her neck could never be mistaken as cultured. There was an air of old-world dignity about Mary Beth Warner.

The interior of the house was lovely, with wide, spacious rooms filled with antiques and beautiful paintings.

A butler served tea in the drawing room from a Georgian silver tea service.

When he had left the room, Mary Beth said, “I’m sure you must love Adam very much.”

Jennifer said awkwardly, “I want you to know, Mrs. Warner, that neither of us planned—”

Mary Beth Warner put a hand on Jennifer’s arm. “You don’t have to tell me that. I don’t know whether Adam told you, but our marriage has turned into a marriage of politeness. Adam and I have known each other since we were children. I think I fell in love with Adam the first time I saw him. We went to the same parties and had the same friends, and I suppose it was inevitable that one day we would get married. Don’t misunderstand. I still adore Adam and I’m sure he adores me. But people do change, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

Jennifer looked at Mary Beth and she was filled with a deep feeling of gratitude. What could have been an ugly and sordid scene had turned into something friendly and wonderful. Adam had been right. Mary Beth was a lovely lady.