The Ghost by Danielle Steel Page A

just then to avoid their constant battles with him. He was driving them both crazy. Give yourself time to decide where you want to go from here. You might even decide that we're not so wrong after all, after you give it a little careful consideration. If only he would agree to play by their rules, they could live with him. But for the moment, to Charlie anyway, that seemed out of the question. You can take up to six months, Charles, if you need it. We'll discuss everything again when you're ready. He was a good architect, after all, and they needed him, but not if he was going to swim upstream and challenge every decision they made about every building. But he nonetheless had a feeling that they had something up their sleeves and weren't being totally honest with him, and he couldn't help wondering if they had ever really planned to send him back to London. He could always go back on his own, of course. But now that he was here, he thought he might spend a month or so traveling to other cities, maybe Philadelphia and Boston. And after that, he wanted to go back to England.
    I'd like to go back to London, Charlie said honestly. I don't think the New York office will work for me, even in six months, or after a long vacation. He didn't want to mislead them. The atmosphere here is very different. I can do this for a while, if you need me to, for a short time at least. But I think having me here is counterproductive.
    We've thought of that too, right now anyway, they said, looking relieved. As far as they were concerned, in his years abroad he had become a renegade and a misfit. He had worked independently for too long, and gotten too many European ideas to allow him to readjust his thinking even now that he had left there.
    Even Charlie realized that there was always the possibility that he would eventually be able to compromise with them, for a while anyway. And maybe after six months off, he would feel ready to face New York again, but he doubted it. It was too uncomfortable for him, and he couldn't do any of the work here that he was known for. But six months would give them all time to think, and figure out where to put him.
    He couldn't help wondering, too, if they were right in another sense. They had implied that he was overwrought and exhausted after his problems with Carole. And maybe he did need some time to recover. Leaving his job, and taking time off, was the wildest thing he had ever done. He had never done anything like it before. He barely used up his annual vacation, and hadn't taken any significant time off since college, nor had he ever wanted to do that. But in the situation he found himself in, it was suddenly very appealing. He had a contract with the firm, and yet he knew he had to get away from the New York office before it drove him completely crazy.
    Where will you go from here? they asked with concern. As disappointing as his return had been for them, they had always liked him.
    I have absolutely no idea, he said honestly, trying to relish the uncertainty of his situation, rather than be frightened by it. There was nothing for him here. But there was nothing for him in London at the moment either. And he didn't want to risk running into Simon and Carole. It was easier to stay in the States for a while longer. Maybe I'll go to Boston, he said vaguely. He had grown up there, but had no relatives in the area anymore. His parents were long gone, and most of the people he knew were from his childhood, and he hadn't looked any of them up in ages, and didn't really want to. Particularly now, precariously half out of a job, and with a sad tale to tell them about Carole.
    He thought about skiing in Vermont for a week or two, traveling for a while, and then flying back to London, before he made any permanent decisions. He had no plans for the holidays, and he was completely free. He still had quite a bit of money in the bank, after the divorce, and with his salary he could afford to be easy on himself for the time