After signing the necessary documentation, Mike had successfully completed a quantum leap from salaried employee to business owner. He entered the Royal York Hotel at seven that evening, planning to dine in style to celebrate his business coup. One of Toronto's finest hotels, the massive old building showed its age, but had managed to retain its elegant charm. He marched directly through the long lobby to the Imperial Room, which was one of his favorite dining establishments. Dinner reservations were normally required, but the maitre d'hôtel happily pocketed a twenty dollar tip and led Mike to the last available table for two.
Seconds later, a waiter approached. "Would you care to order something to drink, sir?" he asked.
"Crown Royal. Lots of rocks," Mike ordered, and then scanned the crowded room. The tables were covered with embroidered white linens and adorned with gold plated cutlery, occupied mostly by couples enjoying the ambiance, the food, and each other. The sight of all the happy couples quickly diminished his euphoria.
A second waiter stopped at Mike's table. "Excuse me, Mr. King. I have something for you," he said.
Mike turned quickly in surprise. In the waiter's right hand was a gold plated corkscrew, and over his forearm was a white linen napkin. A silver tasting cup hung from a chain around his neck. In his left hand was a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon that Mike recognized from the top shelf.
"There must be some mistake," Mike said, bewildered. "I didn't order that."
"No mistake sir." The waiter pointed to a table in the far corner of the room. "The couple at the corner table asked me to give this to you." Mike turned to look where the waiter had pointed. His pulse rocketed when his eyes found Karen, looking more beautiful than he could remember. Her flowing black hair barely reached the collar of her white silk blouse, and almost perfectly matched the color of her full length, black satin skirt. He resisted an impulse to race across the room and take her in his arms when he shifted his focus to the man at her table.
"Shall I open it, Mr. King?" the waiter asked.
"Please do," Mike said. He stood and walked unsteadily in the direction of Karen's table, his heart pounding harder with each step. He struggled with conflicting emotions when he arrived at the table. The love of his life was once again within his reach, but it was impossible to do what his heart demanded. He smiled and extended his trembling right hand to meet hers.
"What a wonderful surprise!" Karen said. She smiled radiantly and reached for Mike's hand, and then turned to her partner. "Mike, I would like you to meet my husband, Jim Servito. Jim, this is Mike King, an old friend of mine."
Disappointment shot through Mike's body like an electric shock. He released Karen's hand to shake the hand of Karen's husband, the man who had utterly destroyed his last hope. "Pleasure to meet you, Jim," he lied, forcing a smile to conceal his disappointment.
Servito frowned before he stood and accepted Mike's hand. "Nice to meet an old friend of Karen's," he said, unsmiling.
"How are you, Mike?" Karen asked.
"Just fine. I'm older, but a little wiser," Mike replied, trying to smile and appear cool. "How are you? Are you as happy as you look?"
Karen nodded, and then displayed a strained smile. "Where's your wife? I see you're alone tonight."
"Barbara and I were recently divorced."
Karen's smile disappeared. "Mike, I'm so sorry," she said, stunned and disappointed by the cruelty of fate. If only their timing had been different....
Mike resisted an almost overpowering urge to hold Karen's hand. "It was wonderful to see you again, Karen, and to meet your husband. I really should return to my table and allow you to have your dinner. Thank you both for the bottle of wine. It was very thoughtful. I promise I'll enjoy it."
Servito stared at Mike until he had returned to his table, and then turned to face Karen. "I couldn't help noticing how the two of you looked at each other. Was he more than just a friend?"
She nodded, staring away.
"Lovers?"
She focused on Servito's eyes and nodded again.
Instantly, Servito hated Mike King. "How long ago?"
"When he was in university. He was in medicine."
"How did it end?"
"He went to British Columbia and I went to Europe."
"Is he a doctor now?"
"I really don't know. I haven't seen him since."
Servito wanted to pursue the subject, but decided to postpone further questioning.
Karen picked uncomfortably at her dinner for twenty minutes, and then excused herself to the washroom. There, she reached into her purse and removed a notepad and pen. She scribbled a note, ripped it from the pad, and folded it into her hand. When she emerged from the washroom, she handed the note to the waiter who had delivered the bottle to Mike's table. "Would you please give this to Mr. King? Please don't let anyone see you doing it," she insisted.
After agonizing over the note and its implications until almost noon the following morning, Mike could wait no longer. He reached for his telephone and dialed the number Karen had given him. He felt a surge of relief when he heard her voice. "It's Mike. Can you talk?" he asked, his pulse racing.
"Yes. Jim's not home. I'm so glad you called, Mike. It was wonderful to see you again."
"The pleasure was all mine...I was disappointed to see you with a husband."
"I don't mean to be sarcastic, but I know exactly how disappointed you were."
Mike immediately recalled Karen's call to his apartment years earlier. "I'm sorry. I know people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."
"The worst part of it was having your wife tell me."
"I'm sorry for that, Karen. I had no way of knowing that you were alive. I felt hopelessly trapped when I found out.... I thought it would be best if we didn't see or talk to each other again."
"Why?"
"I knew it would hurt too much."
"Who did you think it would it hurt—you or me?"
"Both. It was selfish of me. I hope someday you'll forgive me."
She sighed. "What happened to your marriage? I thought you were happy."
"We were for a while, but eventually it was obvious that we had made a mistake."
"Did you have any children?"
"One—Kerri. She's three years old now."
"Did your wife get custody?"
"No contest."
"Oh."
Mike smiled a little as he thought of his daughter. "She's the light of my life. I really look forward to seeing her, but I detest the time limit. It makes me feel like a paid entertainer."
For a moment, neither of them knew what to say.
"But enough about me!" Mike persisted. "Tell me about you. When were you married?"
"Last August."
"That's great," Mike lied. "Where did you meet Jim?"
"In Palm Beach. Shortly after I found out you were married, I went there with my mother. I just followed the sun, you know? I spent winters in Florida and summers at my parents' cottage in Muskoka. To postpone boredom, I picked up some part time jobs, mostly modeling. I met some men along the way, but none of them interested me. I was convinced I was heading for spinsterhood until I met Jim."
"Are you happy?" Mike asked, desperately hoping she wasn't.
"...as happy as I could be, under the circumstances."
"What circumstances?"
"I'm pregnant."
Karen's newest revelation hit hard. He fought back tears. "I was hoping you would tell me you were desperately unhappy...I never stopped loving you, Karen. I probably never will. I curse fate for keeping us apart."
Tears streamed from Karen's eyes. Her body ached to be in Mike's arms. She could never love Jim as deeply or as passionately as she loved Mike, but her sense of gratitude prevented her from telling Mike how she felt. Jim had saved her from desperate loneliness and deep depression—if nothing else, she owed him her loyalty.
"I would gladly roll back the years, Mike, but it's impossible."
Mike sensed that she wanted to say more, but she hadn't. If she hadn't, she wouldn't. He couldn't force it out of her...even if he wanted to. He fought down a surge of nausea. If the conversation continued, his pain would only intensify. "I hope we live long enough to meet again, Karen, under entirely different circumstances."
"Yeah?" Her voice was soft.
"Be happy. You deserve it."