The Ghost by Danielle Steel Page B

being. He could even go skiing in Switzerland or France, after he went back to London. But he also realized that he no longer had a home there. He had no home anywhere, and his belongings were on a boat on the Atlantic somewhere on their way to storage. But whatever he decided to do in the end, he knew it was a lot more appealing than being squeezed to death in their New York office.
    You'll stay in touch, they said as he came around the desk to shake hands with them. They were enormously relieved by the tone and the outcome of the meeting. For a brief time, they had been afraid that he was going to give them a great deal of trouble, and he could have. According to his contract, he could have insisted on staying there, and they realized now that the battles with him would have been endless.
    I'll be in contact with you about what we do when the leave is over. They had agreed on six months, and although he didn't yet know what to do with it, he was determined to use it and enjoy it. But he seriously wondered if he would ever be able to work for them again. Not in New York, in any case, and he sensed that, despite their agreement with him to send him back after a year, there was some kind of stumbling block about London. He felt as though they were just humoring him, and he wasn't far off the mark, although he didn't know it. Dick Barnes had his old job now, with a slightly different title, and the senior partners of the firm genuinely liked him. He was far more tractable and easy to get along with than Charlie.
    He couldn't help wondering, as he packed the few things in his desk, if he would ever return to Whittaker and Jones, in any capacity, in any city. He was seriously beginning to wonder.
    He said good-bye to everyone late that afternoon. Everything he had with him was in his briefcase. He had already given them all their files back. He had nothing to work on, to take with him, to read, no deadlines, no projects, no blueprints. He was free now. And the only one he was sorry to leave was Ben Chow, who looked at him with a broad smile just before he left the office.
    How did you get so lucky? he asked under his breath, and they both laughed. Charlie felt almost euphoric as he thanked the two partners and walked out, not entirely sure if he would eventually quit, be fired, or was really just on a long vacation. But whatever it turned out to be, for the first time in his life, he wasn't even worried. He knew they would have destroyed him artistically if he'd stayed there.
    What now? he asked himself as he walked back to his apartment. He had told them he'd vacate it in the morning. The cold air and the snow in his eyes sobered him. What was he going to do? Where would he go? Did he really want to go skiing, as he had said, or should he just fly back to London? And if he did, then what? It was going to be Christmas in a week, and he knew that being in London over the holidays would only make him miserable thinking of Carole. He'd want to reach out to her, or at the very least call her. He'd want to buy her a gift and then see her to give it to her. He could feel the whole carousel of agony begin to turn again just pondering the question. In some ways, it would be easier not to be there.
    It was hard not to remember that it was going to be their first Christmas apart in ten years. She had even flown to London to be with him for his first year there before they were married. But not this year. This year she would be with Simon.
    The skiing idea sounded good to him, and he called and rented a car for the following day as soon as he got to his apartment. He was surprised to find one still available, everyone wanted cars for the holidays, to visit relatives and carry presents. He rented it for a week, and asked for maps of Vermont, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts, and he figured he could rent ski equipment once he was there. He felt like a kid running away from home as he sat on his couch, thinking of what he'd done. A noble career