Fashionably Late

by Olivia Goldsmith

  Perry kissed both her cheeks – not the New York social air-kiss but real smackers. She hugged him.

  ‘Mmm, feels good,’ he said. Then he greeted Defina and Tangela and looked around. He shook his head. ‘Connecticut,’ he said grimly, ‘where the charm is strictly enforced.’

  ‘Along with the racial segregation,’ Defina cracked.

  Karen rolled her eyes. Great. The two of them could bond in their negativity. And simultaneously piss Jeffrey off. Swell start to the brunch. ‘Come on, let me show you the house,’ Karen said. They walked through the swinging kitchen doors into the living room.

  ‘Mother of God!’ Defina exclaimed. ‘It’s as big as a church.’

  ‘Mother,’ Tangela whined, correctively. Tangela looked at Jeffrey, who was already playing bartender, handing her a goblet of orange juice. ‘I think it’s beautiful,’ she simpered. Jeffrey ignored her.

  ‘What are you drinking, Defina?’ he asked briskly. The doorbell chimed and Karen went to get it. Sylvia and Jeffrey’s two sisters stood outside. Since Jeffrey’s father had died, Sylvia spent most of her time with Sooky and Buff, her two married daughters. Sooky – Susan – was married to Robert, an attorney who handled KInc’s legal work, but Buff – Barbara – was divorced from her Robert, an investment banker. Both sisters were the kind of wealthy Jewish girls who had made Karen feel insecure all during high school. They were smart, verbal, and caustic and neither one of them ever let herself outgrow her size-six wardrobe.

  Sylvia had a new hairstyle. It was now more white than anything else, but there was still some pepper-and-salt, like Jeffrey’s. It looked simple and chic. Her mother-in-law was wearing a Sonia Rykiel sweater outfit. Sylvia was one of the ‘Sisters of Sonia’ cult and had been buying seriously from Rykiel for years. And Karen knew that when a wealthy woman did that she was not simply buying clothes but defining herself and her stake in a society that wore them. Karen didn’t know if she should take it as an insult that Sylvia never wore her designs, or if Sylvia simply didn’t think about things like that. But she suspected Sylvia did. ‘Come in,’ she said with the best smile she could manage, and the three women, followed by Robert-the-lawyer, did.

  Robert-the-lawyer himself specialized in acquisitions, but his firm had represented June in her and Perry’s divorce. June had come from some big family money and Robert-the-lawyer’s firm had made sure she kept it. Not that Perry seemed to have been particularly interested in it: he had taken Lottie’s death even harder than June. He didn’t seem to have any interests right now. Karen had been afraid he might feel ill-will toward Robert, but he just looked up at the arriving group and managed a nod. He’d known them all since he was roommates with Jeffrey at school.

  Belle arrived late, with an excuse from Karen’s father and a long story about how he almost came with her but then canceled, about how he changed his mind and was going to come later. It made Karen tired to hear even a part of it. Before Belle was done, Lisa, Leonard, and the girls arrived and the party was complete.

  Karen spent the first half-hour or so exclaiming over clothes, getting drinks, and looking for Mrs Frampton. The guests seemed busy with the food and one another, but there were definitely three camps: the Kahns; Belle and her descendants; and the outcasts – Perry, Defina, and Tangela. Karen kept trying to get them to mix. It wasn’t easy. It was just as well that Carl hadn’t been able to come since he wouldn’t have made it any easier. It took a little while for her to have enough time to get a breather. Finally, she had a moment and stood at the kitchen door looking across the room at the assembly. It was funny to think that the room held all of the stockholders of KInc. In a way, they were all her business partners. They looked pleasant, affluent, and as if they were enjoying themselves.

  But all at once, Karen was swept with a terrible sense of separation. All of these people seemed like actors, strangers. What did they have to do with her? What struck her most was the difference between her mother and Jeffrey’s. Jeffrey’s mother somehow looked both younger and older than Belle. Her style was more natural, more casual, and a lot smarter, which gave her – from a distance – the appearance of a woman of forty. Yet her hair color and her face with its subdued makeup showed her age, simply and without artifice. About Belle, people said, ‘She looks good for her age.’ About Sylvia, people simply said, ‘She looks good.’

  Belle looked forced. With her pleated dresses and fitted jackets she reminded Karen of a Jewish Nancy Reagan – all gold buttons and overstyled hair. Adolfo meets Rockville Center. Poor Belle. She tried too hard. Karen felt a wave of pity for her. Once, in an interview, a stern Russian journalist had said to her that she didn’t like people who dressed too well because she was suspicious that they thought of nothing else. That was Belle. Yet despite the care she took with her lacquered shell, Belle’s fear that she didn’t quite fit in the world she wanted so desperately to belong to – Sylvia’s world – was well founded. Belle couldn’t quite penetrate the world of wealthy, educated, informed Jewish women.

  Sylvia, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to everything but Jeffrey. How she loved her son! She found every excuse to tap him, to pat him, to stroke his cheek or ruffle his hair. And Jeffrey accepted her adoration as if it was his due. He wasn’t a Jewish prince to his mother, he was a Jewish deity. Karen understood. She felt almost the same way about Jeffrey herself. It reminded her of the joke about Jesus. ‘How do you know Jesus was a Jew? Because he lived at home until he was thirty-three, because he went into his father’s business, and because his mother thought he was God.’ Karen smiled. Jeffrey had always been close to his mother.

  Jeffrey’s dad had wanted him to join the family real estate business, but with Sylvia’s help, Jeffrey had resisted, gone to art school, and become a painter. Karen knew what a sacrifice it had been to give it up in order to manage her business and still felt both guilty and grateful. It was good that now, after more than a decade, he was beginning to paint again. Of course he wanted out from under, wanted the NormCo deal to set him free. He deserved it, she reminded herself. She’d have to try to be more supportive.

  ‘Come and see, if you want to,’ Jeffrey was saying now, and opened the door that led out to his studio. Since they’d built the Westport property, he’d designed a studio and had been working in it. Though he’d been very private about it, now it appeared he was willing to show his work to his mother and anyone else who chose to come along.

  Just then Arnold arrived. Karen greeted her father, got him coffee, and settled him on a sofa while Sylvia, Sooky, Robert-the-lawyer, Buff, Belle, Lisa, Tangela, and Stephanie followed Jeffrey. Lumpy Tiff stood at the sideboard, waffling down yet another bagel. God, she looked awful. Karen felt her heart go out to the girl – Karen herself had been lumpy as a teenager and she hadn’t had a gorgeous older sister to compete with. Now Karen tried to seem casual as she crossed the room to the girl. ‘Tiff, don’t you want to see Uncle Jeffrey’s paintings?’

  ‘No,’ Tiff said calmly, and picked up another bagel. Was it her third or her fourth?

  ‘I don’t want to see Uncle Jeffrey’s paintings either,’ Perry volunteered. ‘If I do, he’ll want me to tell him what I think of them.’

  To be honest, Karen herself was not actually thrilled with Jeffrey’s work. But what did she know about fine art? To her, the nudes seemed, somehow, too glossy, too obvious, rather louche. More Penthouse than Art News. Did Perry mean that he didn’t like them either? She respected Perry’s opinion and had come to love his subtle canvases. She looked at him. Had he been drinking? Enough to be drunk? At noon? Not that she’d blame him. If she was in pain over not conceiving a child, what must his loss feel like? Lottie had been an adorable little girl. When Karen imagined losing a child that way, she thought perhaps she was better off infertile.

  Perry was a good-looking man, with long narrow eyes and a longer nose. His mouth was generous. If he wasn’t quite so short and balding he’d be a real dish, Karen thought, surprising herself. She didn’t remember t
he last time she’d noticed what Perry looked like. Had she only noticed now because this was the first time she’d seen him at a party without June?

  ‘So, Jeffrey told me about “The Elle Halle Show.” How did it go?’

  ‘Like a swim with a barracuda.’

  ‘When is it on?’

  ‘They’re saying the week after next. But you never know for sure.’

  ‘So is she a babe, or what?’

  ‘A babe?’ Karen laughed, remembering Elle Halle’s cold eye. ‘You’re asking if Elle Halle is a babe? I can think of another “b” word, but if this is remotely connected to some pathetic fantasy of yours, you’re way out of your league. This woman eats network vice-presidents for brunch. If you’re thinking of dating, why not just go for a black widow spider and be safer?’

  ‘I asked a few out, but they all said they had to wash their webs that night. Too bad. It would have been an easy death.’ He grinned in a kind of cute, lopsided way.

  He was serious, under the smile. ‘Is it rough?’ she asked him.

  ‘That’s not quite the word I would choose,’ he told her. ‘Agonizing is a start in the direction of accuracy.’

  ‘Do you blame June? For the split-up, I mean.’

  ‘God, no. You must know the difficulties in living with a creative person: the mood swings, the hypersensitivity, and the introspection.’

  ‘Yeah. Jeffrey can be difficult.’

  For a moment Perry’s face remained blank, until his eyebrows raised in an expressive are-you-stupid look. Then he barked a laugh. ‘You’re a riot, Alice,’ he said, in a not-bad Ralph Kramden imitation. She was about to ask what the joke was when the swinging door opened.

  ‘I think something’s not right in the kitchen,’ Defina interrupted. Karen sniffed, and the bitter smell of burned bread wafted to her.

  ‘Oh, shit!’ She hustleda cross the living room, into the kitchen. It was empty except for the smoke. Goddamnit, where was Mrs Frampton? She pulled out the blackened croissants.

  ‘Bread Branch Davidian style?’ Defina asked her.

  ‘Jesus! See if I have a couple more packages in the freezer, will ya? And turn on the vent fan. Maybe I can air the place out before they get back from the studio.’

  ‘No such luck.’

  As if to prove that, Belle joined them. ‘You didn’t put the timer on?’ she asked. ‘It’s easy enough to put the timer on.’

  ‘I don’t know how the goddamn thing works,’ Karen told her mother.

  ‘In her own kitchen, she knows how things work,’ Belle said, confusing Defina, but Karen knew it was Belle’s third person way of saying she knew better. Karen sighed.

  The kitchen door opened again and now Sylvia stuck her head in. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked, her face all innocent concern. Why did Karen just know Sylvia was glad there was a problem?

  Defina spoke up. ‘Yeah. The blackened catfish will be ready in a minute. You want your collards well-done or rare?’

  ‘Uh, well-done please,’ Sylvia murmured and backed out of the room. So, for that matter, did Belle.

  ‘Well-done collard greens?’ Karen asked, and burst out laughing. ‘Come on. You don’t even like collard greens.’

  ‘Oh shit. She don’t know that. She didn’t have a clue, and it got them both out of here, didn’t it?’ Defina opened the freezer door. ‘Hey, the bad news is there aren’t any more croissants, but you do have three boxes of frozen sticky buns. Throw out that pan and just put some foil across the oven rack.’ The two friends got busy and soon the buns were in the oven. The thought made Karen wince. She still hadn’t told Defina about Dr Goldman’s results. Well, there was a lifetime for that.

  ‘What do you think of Perry?’ Karen asked instead.

  ‘Seems nice.’ Defina had taken the emptied bun boxes and thrown them into the garbage.

  ‘Nice enough to date? He was married to Jeffrey’s ex-fiancée, June. They’re divorced and he’s available.’

  Defina stopped what she was doing and put her hands on her hips. ‘For one thing, the man is in shock. For another, he’s white and I done that thing. It don’t work for me anymore. In the end, I feel too lonesome. And it certainly is no favor to my daughter, who’s still trying to figure out if she’s black or white. Lastly, he’s only up to my waist, which, I admit, could come in handy sexually, but I’d just as soon get a tall one and teach him to kneel. Plus, even if I did have an interest, which I don’t, your sister-in-law is all over that little white boy. Now hand me the oven rack.’

  Unobtrusively, during Defina’s rant, Arnold had entered the room. Karen looked up and her father was there, leaning against a wall.

  ‘Want more coffee?’ Karen asked.

  Arnold shook his head. ‘But maybe, if you have it, a Pepto?’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Karen asked. He didn’t look well. Had she poisoned everyone with the fish?

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he assured her. ‘Just my usual.’ She got him a couple of pink tablets and he wandered off.

  Karen and Defina had gotten things reorganized just as Mrs Frampton returned to the room. Where had she been? ‘Get these baked. They take ten minutes. Then bring them out on a tray,’ Karen said curtly. She didn’t mention the burned croissants. Mrs Frampton looked at her impassively. Defina opened the door, took Karen’s arm, and led her back to the guests, who were still talking about Jeffrey’s work.

  ‘They were wonderful. Weren’t the paintings fabulous, Leonard?’ Lisa asked her husband. He nodded glumly. ‘Well, weren’t they?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. Lisa sighed.

  Sylvia was, as usual, standing beside Jeffrey, her arm entwined in his. ‘Have you seen his paintings?’ she asked Karen. ‘Aren’t they wonderful? So … so … evocative.’

  The nudes Jeffrey was painting were anything but evocative. He was calling them studies, and he told Karen he was doing them merely to get back into the flow. But they weren’t tentative or rough as studies usually were. They were direct and in-your-face. Evocative! Karen smiled at her mother-in-law. A man’s most positive art critic was his mother. How come a woman’s wasn’t? Jeffrey was beaming. But Karen couldn’t help but notice that Perry was scowling. Well, since he had stopped painting it couldn’t be easy to listen to or see anyone else’s work being fawned over.

  ‘They are tremulous,’ said Buff. ‘Don’t you think so, Perry?’ Defina was right, Karen thought with surprise. Buff was coming on to Perry.

  ‘Tremulous?’ Perry asked Buff. ‘In the sense of shaky?’ Buff turned to him and was about to answer when Tangela interrupted.

  ‘Who do you use for a model?’ Tangela asked provocatively.

  Karen nearly laughed. It looked like all the women were busy running at the men. But Defina’s brow lowered. ‘Who you thinkin’ your boss’s husband should be usin’ as a model?’ Defina hissed at her daughter. She took Tangela by the arm and led her over to a corner. Jeffrey just shrugged.

  Karen smiled at him, just as Belle and Robert-the-lawyer joined their group. ‘Tell us about Elise Elliot,’ Belle asked. ‘Is she nice?’

  Sylvia finally managed a smile at Karen. ‘Now there is a woman who is aging gracefully,’ Sylvia said approvingly. ‘What a lady.’

  Karen thought of the hell that Elise had been putting the workroom through, shot a look at Jeffrey, and smiled. ‘Yes, she’s just a lovely person,’ Karen agreed.

  ‘Has she had surgery?’ Buff asked. ‘I mean, have you seen the scars?’

  Karen shook her head. If she had, she wouldn’t tell.

  ‘So when’s the date?’ Robert-the-lawyer asked.

  ‘Are you invited?’ Belle wanted to know.

  ‘Of course we’re invited,’ Jeffrey said, offended. He wasn’t merely a purveyor to the wealthy and famous.

  ‘So, Belle,’ said Robert-the-lawyer, ‘it sounds like your daughter is going to be in the big time.’

  ‘She’s already in the big time,’ Belle corrected.

  ‘Nonsense, I’m talking Big Time he
re. This NormCo acquisition looks like the real thing.’

  There had been several other firms that had nosed around KInc before, but it had taken this long for a company with the kind of money that NormCo had to get deeply interested. Karen had asked Robert to keep the offer quiet. Belle and Lisa owned stock in her company and she didn’t want them to get their hopes up. Robert-the-lawyer was such an asshole.

  ‘Who needs big business?’ Arnold asked as he shuffled over. ‘My girl is doing just fine on her own.’

  ‘Hey, come on. Launching the bridge line cost a lot of money. Servicing the debt isn’t easy. They need this deal.’

  Arnold turned to Karen. ‘Do you think so?’ he asked. ‘Wolper stinks. He broke two unions, Karen. Never get into bed with a partner who stinks.’

  Oh, God, Karen thought. There’s going to be a brawl. She loved Arnold but he had to get over his prejudice against every corporation in America. After all, she was a corporation now. ‘It’s just a preliminary meeting,’ she told her dad, and felt guilty at the fib.

  ‘So, tomorrow is the big day,’ Robert-the-lawyer said, helping himself to more at the buffet. ‘You think you’re ready for it, Karen?’

  ‘I think I can handle it, Bob.’ She liked calling him Bob. It was a kind of stupid name and he had so much pomposity that it felt good to deflate him. Why did he talk to her as if she were a nitwit? Did she act like one? Or had Jeffrey influenced him and made him believe that Karen was incompetent? Karen still resented that Jeffrey had made them give up Sid, a lawyer friend of her father’s, and move to Robert’s fancy firm. But Jeffrey had insisted and – after all – he handled the business.

  Early on, the two of them had begun to play at roles: she was the creative designer and he was the guy in charge of the ‘guy things.’ Karen acquiesced because he seemed to gain some dignity from the division of labor. And she had benefited because she hadn’t been hassled with the tedious taxes, cash flow, union negotiations, accounts receivables, and all the rest of it. But at times like this, she felt her role chafe. After all, they weren’t just talking about hiring a new PR firm or selling remaindered bolts of fabric. They were talking about selling her. And sometimes the idea of losing control tormented her.