Free The Scarlet Letter Society by Mary McCarthy Page A

attention, and the only thing Joe seemed to give attention to was his medical practice. She looked over at the picture on the dresser of her boys on the lacrosse field together. Love and romance had taken a backseat, except where she could find them in an ancillary way around her workplaces.
    As a workaholic, it always made sense to Eva that her affairs that revolved somehow around her career. She let her mind wander back to a memory: she’d once fucked a judge in his own chambers after a trial; he was still wearing his robe! She compartmentalized Ron at her office in DC, Charles at her office in New York. Why wouldn’t Joe be compartmentalizing someone in Baltimore?
    But that doesn’t make it hurt any less .

    Maggie and Dave finished lunch and the discussion of their daughter’s upcoming celebration. She had asked to meet with him, even though a phone call could easily have accomplished the interaction.
    Why does it always come back to him? thought Maggie. Entire relationships, marriages, a whole decade between them now, and she never seemed to be able to cut whatever invisible cord kept them coming back together. Then again, he never seemed able to cut that rope, either.
    “You have absolutely got to see this fantastic Art Deco building,” said Dave,. “It’s just a few blocks over. Do you have time?”
    She did. No one was running a clock on her “Back in an hour” sign at the shop.
    Smiling at this child-like excitement over simple old bricks and mortar, she asked, “So what’s the story of this poor unfortunate orphan building?”
    “They were going to tear this beauty down,” said Dave as they rounded the corner toward the building. He suddenly stopped, pointing. “Just look at her! Original copper and black marble tile façade, even the original Deco lettering.”
    “They just don’t build them like this anymore?” asked Maggie, figuring Dave’s signature comment was on its way.
    “No one could afford to build a structure like this today,” said Dave. He smiled, producing a single key. “Wanna take a look?”
    Maggie wasn’t as thrilled at the idea of dirty, abandoned buildings as Dave was, but she couldn’t resist his enthusiasm. She never could. “Sure,” she said, glad she’d worn vintage jeans for a living and not some Eva-style black skirt get-up.
    “It was an old hotel,” said Dave as they walked inside. It was dark, musty and dusty like the rest of them, thought Maggie, though she was impressed by the beautiful architecture. The lobby’s red, white and black color scheme were all visible again, since the drop ceilings and newer flooring had been removed. Gilded cherubic faces seemed to gleam at her from every corner.
    “I love that you do this,” said Maggie. “This probably would’ve ended up some new office building with cubicles and acoustic tile ceilings and blue conference rooms.”
    “I’m glad it’s going to be a hotel again,” said Dave. He absentmindedly started rubbing Maggie’s shoulders. This turned her to putty and he knew it. She relaxed against his hands, taking in the view of the work in progress around her.
    “These old places sure had a lot of charm and romance,” said Maggie.
    “They still do,” said Dave. He turned her toward him, lifted her chin, and kissed her. His beard was rough, but Maggie had grown to like that many years before. She reached up and put her arms around him, savoring the soft familiarity of his flannel shirt. Their kiss grew in intensity and she felt him harden through his jeans. She grabbed his belt and pulled him closer to her.
    “You’ve got to see this elevator,” said Dave, pulling Maggie across the lobby by the hand.
    They stepped inside the freshly restored 1920s elevator. Maggie noted the deep sound of the “ding” as Dave pushed the number 13.
    “It’s unusual for a building to have a 13 th floor, but the top floor on this one is 13,” he said. As the floors rose, he passionately pinned her against the gold