Free The Towers of Love by Stephen; Birmingham

said, “to the returning conqueror!”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œI’m so happy.”
    Soup was removed and dinner came. The food was always good in his mother’s house. He sipped his champagne.
    â€œOf course,” she said, “when I first heard that you and Joe Wallace were breaking up, that he was buying you out, I was terribly alarmed. Yes, alarmed is the word—and shocked. That was why I telephoned. I simply couldn’t believe it.”
    â€œWell, there was no need to be alarmed,” he said. “It was a perfectly friendly thing.”
    â€œI know. And of course, when you explained to me about the financial side of it—how very nicely you had made out—I realised that made all the difference in the world. Getting all that money puts quite a different complexion on it, doesn’t it?”
    â€œWell, I suppose so, if you want to look at it that way,” he said.
    â€œMy first thought was: How could you? I mean it seemed so terribly sad that you’d invested so much time —nearly seven years—with Joe. It seemed impossible that after spending so much time there you could suddenly just throw it all over, just on an impulse.”
    â€œWell, that wasn’t quite the way it was,” he said. “It wasn’t a sudden impulse. It was something Joe and I had been discussing for a long time.”
    â€œOh, I know. And it’s too late for you to change your mind about it now, anyway, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes, it is,” he said.
    â€œThe main thing is, you’re sure you did the right thing.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œBut I admit, when I first heard about it, I was terribly upset. I didn’t know what you could be thinking of. And when Joe Wallace told me—”
    â€œOh?” He looked up at her. “I didn’t realise you’d been talking to Joe.”
    â€œOh,” she said, waving her hand, “it wasn’t that I was talking to him, really. And it was months and months ago. I just happened to run into him. I was in New York for one of my assignations with Titi, and Titi and I were lunching—where was it? Oh, yes, it was at the Baroque. I’m sure it was at the Baroque. We were lunching there, and Joe Wallace just happened to walk by. And he spoke to me.”
    â€œI see,” he said.
    â€œAnd he mentioned—oh, he mentioned it only very casually—that you and he were having some sort of disagreement about something, and he asked me to speak to you, and really I guess I wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying because it didn’t make much of an impression on me. I’ve really forgotten what it was he said. I didn’t think it could possibly be anything serious.”
    â€œJoe asked you to speak to me?”
    â€œWell, yes.”
    â€œI wonder what Joe wanted you to speak to me about?” he said.
    â€œWell, I suppose he wanted me to try to persuade you to change your mind.”
    â€œOh,” he said.
    â€œActually, if I had known what it was you were planning to do—if you’d told me—I would have asked you to think it over carefully, and not do anything hasty.”
    â€œWell, as you said, it’s too late now,” he said.
    â€œYes, and I’m sure you’ve done the right thing. And the important thing now is not what you’ve done, but what you’re going to do next.”
    â€œYes,” he said.
    â€œI suppose you have some plans.”
    â€œI have one or two ideas.”
    â€œOh, good. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me what they are, would you?”
    â€œWell, not quite yet,” he said. “I haven’t really decided anything yet, Sandy.”
    â€œOf course. Well, there’s lots of time, isn’t there? Acres of time.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œOf course I did have one thought—and don’t for a minute think I’m trying to arrange your