by Jane Green
Kit laughs in disbelief. “Lowly? You’re kidding, right? It’s an amazing job!”
“I don’t think it’s lowly, God no. I’m just wondering what other people think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, being an assistant is just . . . I don’t know . . . I just see you as being the boss, I guess.”
“But it isn’t like that. At all. I’m not inferior to him, not in his eyes and not in mine.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Kit says, but there is a small seed of doubt. Do people think the job is below her? Is it? But that’s ridiculous. It’s a job she’s proud of and, more than that, a job she loves. She shakes her head, unable to dislodge the discomfort, but she comes back to the present to hear Steve talking.
“. . . so on Wednesday we’ll do dinner. It’s not long to wait. And you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“What? You mean I’m not going to see you until Wednesday?” Kit’s face falls.
“No, I meant we wouldn’t be able to spend the night together until Wednesday. I want to see you every day, all day if I could.”
“I think my children might have a thing or two to say about that. Not to mention my . . .” she is going to say “boss,” but doesn’t: “. . . Robert.”
“I’d love to meet him,” Steve says. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I really am a huge fan.”
“You’ll meet him soon,” she says. “Promise.” For a minute she is tempted to invite him to come and collect her one day, to casually introduce them, and bathe in the glory of being the one to facilitate the introduction.
But Robert is so private, and she doesn’t know how he will feel, having a relative stranger coming to the house. Something in her gut tells her he would not be pleased, that Robert is only ever ready and willing to meet new people on his terms.
She will tell Robert that Steve is a fan, and perhaps then Robert will issue an invitation himself. That would be better.
Robert has not been himself of late. He is always in his study, their friendly chats over coffee now seemingly a thing of the past.
“Forgive me,” he said yesterday. “I am writing, and it is intense. I find I cannot think of anything else. We will resume our usual routine when this book is done, but for now I need to shut myself away and get the words on the page. Will you continue answering the fan mail, making the appointments I e-mail you about?”
“Absolutely,” she said, relieved it had nothing to do with her, for she had instantly feared she had done something wrong.
It would be hard, right now, to ask him about background checks. When they chat, it is easy to ask him about anything, but when she sees him these days it is as if his head is in the clouds, so distracted is he.
This morning, this sunny Wednesday morning, Kit goes into the kitchen, as she so often does when she gets there in the morning, to make herself a cappuccino to take into the office, and sitting at the computer on the little desk to one side of the kitchen, wearing a long white waffle robe and looking very much the lady of the house, is Tracy.
Kit starts. Is about to back out of the room. She should be delighted to see Tracy, but it feels all wrong. She can’t back out. What if Tracy looks up and sees her? And it’s not as if Tracy doesn’t know about her, for heaven’s sake. It’s not as if Kit is the other woman.
“Hey, Tracy!” Kit musters a warmth she doesn’t feel, for suddenly she is territorial over Robert. Robert is hers. Not Tracy’s. And as childish as this makes her, she knows she didn’t want to share him. Not even with one of her best friends.
This is the first thing that is entirely hers. For over fifteen years she has been doing things for other people. As a wife first, then a mother, everything she did was to make other people happy.
And here, finally, is something that is just hers. It is like a precious gem in her busy chaotic life, this quiet time she carves out as Robert McClore’s assistant, all the more precious because it is so removed from her other life.
This is what is so unsettling. That her two lives are merging. With Tracy becoming involved with Robert, it makes him belong to all of them. And Kit doesn’t like that. Not one bit.
“Oh! Kit.” Tracy’s voice isn’t nearly as warm as Kit’s, and she quickly exits whatever she was looking at.
“I guess I shouldn’t ask what you’re doing here?” Kit attempts a teasing smile, which comes out as more of a grimace.
“Right.” Tracy is distracted. “I’ll get out of your way in a second. I was just looking something up.” She shuts down the computer. “Robert asked for you to bring him a cappuccino.”
Kit stands still, a fury rising up in her. How dare Tracy treat her like a servant? Who the hell does she think she is?
“The cappuccino machine is over there,” she says, through gritted teeth. “I’m sure you can manage it.”
Tracy looks at Kit. “Is everything okay?”
Kit hates confrontation, of any sort, but this time she has had enough. She does not want to do what she would always have done in the past, which would be to say, “Everything’s fine. It’s nothing,” or “I’m just having a bad day,” and walk off steaming, resentment oozing out of every pore.
Not anymore. This time she needs to speak up.
“I felt like a servant when you just spoke to me that way.”
“What?” Tracy looks up, exasperated. “Oh for God’s sake, Kit. That’s ridiculous.”
Kit’s anger now boils over, the mixture of invalidation, belittling and dismissing altogether too much for her. It reminds her of her mother. Of her childhood.
“Who do you think you are? I thought I knew you, I thought you were a friend, but not only do I not know you, I don’t like who you’re becoming. Ever since you started . . . hanging out . . . with Robert, you’ve been distant and barely speak to us. We call you and you don’t return the calls. You seem to resent us coming into the yoga center.”
Kit finds that now that she has started, she cannot stop.
“And just now, asking me to get something that you could get perfectly well yourself, you were imperious and rude. I will not have you treating me like I’m one of your staff. I don’t know what’s going on in your life, but if you want to have any friends at all left in Highfield, you’re going to have to stop this behavior and start treating people with respect.”
Kit doesn’t stay to let Tracy rebuff her. She turns on her heel and storms out of the room, her face flushed with anger, her heart pounding. She closes the door of her office and sits down at her desk, burying her head in her hands.
Oh God. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said all that. She hadn’t planned to, but she just saw red.
What she doesn’t see is Tracy, also shocked, bursting into tears. Leading three different lives is taking its toll. The secrecy, the lies, the constantly having to keep her defenses up, are proving overwhelming. Kit and Charlie are the women she has found friendship with, but backing away from them has been the only way she has known to stop them finding out, and her sadness at this huge loss comes pouring out as she sits in Robert McClore’s kitchen.
She never meant to hurt anyone. She just wants all this to be over.
And as for thinking she’s better than Kit? If she wasn’t so upset, she’d be laughing, for she knows, has always known, she is so much worse.
Chapter Twenty-two
Kit is still shaking from her altercation with Tracy, but today is not the time to tell Charlie about it. She walks gingerly through Charlie’s hallway, and is astonished at the disarray, the boxes scattered around, the packing materials strewn all over the floor.
“But why are you packing stuff up now?” she asks. “Surely you want people to see the house furnished?”
“We do, and this isn’t packing. This is selling. Christie’s is coming to get the rugs and the piano, and I’m putting a ton of other stuff into the Silk Purse in New Canaan to see if we can consign it. I’
d much rather leave it here too, but we need every penny we can get right now.”
“Oh God, Charlie. This is just awful.” Kit perches on a stool in the kitchen and puts her tomato tart on the table. For a long time they have been meeting at the local sushi joint for lunch, Kit and Charlie, often Tracy, and a revolving assortment of acquaintances and friends.
It feels clean, healthy, and they’ve never thought about the expense, until now. Without thinking, Kit suggested Ikusan for lunch, and there was a silence from Charlie. “Just come to me,” Charlie said. “I’ll make lunch,” and instantly, Kit heard her humiliation.
Charlie has made minestrone and salad, and Kit has brought a roasted garlic, tomato and parmigiano tart, picked up from the local gourmet food store on the way over here.
“It just feels so real, seeing everything ready to go.”
“Tell me about it.” Charlie attempts a smile. “It’s a hell of a lot worse for me.”
“Do the kids know?”
Charlie shrugs. “They know Keith’s lost his job and we’re moving. We didn’t spell it out for them, but with Paige we didn’t have to. She went storming up to her room and slammed the door, and now she’s ignoring me.” She sighs. “I get it. I wish I could slam the door to my room and pretend it’s not happening, and I understand how ashamed she is. I’m ashamed myself. Dropping the kids at school is hell, and I swear everyone’s staring at me with sympathy in their eyes.”
“You really think they all know?”
“Yes. I do. We live in a very small town and, because of that, gossip is rife. All it takes is one person to know, and then the whole town knows.”
“”So have you decided where you’re going?”
“Yes. For now, we’re moving in with Keith’s parents.”
“You are? God! I mean, I’m thrilled, because you’re staying here, but are you sure you can deal with them?”
“Actually, they’ve been amazing. Turns out they’ve been totally worrying about how we were living, and Keith’s dad got them into the same kind of trouble when they were about our age, so his mom has been nothing but sympathetic. Funnily enough, it’s been a bonding experience for us.”
“Well, at least that’s one good thing to come out of it.”
“It is, but it’s also been hard. I always thought Keith would look after us, and I always trusted him with money, assumed he knew what he was doing. But his mum said he’s just like his father—it disappears through his fingers like sand.”
“What do you mean?”
“She said Keith’s dad was the same. It was all about show, and having to live in a big house, and needing everyone to think he was important, when he really couldn’t afford to fund their lifestyle. She said that even when he was making money, he never seemed to hold on to it. She told me this story of when Keith was a kid, in third grade, I think she said. They were playing Monopoly, and Keith, who was acting as if he was winning and completely knew what he was doing, turned out to have one property at the end of the game and no money, and no one could understand how his money had all disappeared. She said she knew, instantly, that Keith was going to be just like his dad. They can’t help it, she said; they just can’t seem to keep money.”
“Bet you wish you’d known that before you married him,” Kit says.
“Tell me about it,” sighs Charlie. “You know, I always thought she was rude and dismissive about our lifestyle. Actually, I guess I always thought she was kind of jealous. But it turns out she was worried, because she could see us falling into exactly the same trap they fell into. Apparently, every time she tried to talk to Keith about it, he’d just tell her not to worry, that business was great; and then he’d say his usual crap about being in the top ninety-nine percent of earners in the country, as if that justified everything.”
“Nothing can justify living beyond your means.”
“Now you’re telling me. Anyway, the bottom line is that she’s been amazing. She also said that after they lost everything she took control of the finances, and she advised me to do the same.”
“I thought you hated anything to do with money.”
“I do, I don’t have the patience. But before I got married, I always lived within my means, and even though I don’t understand stocks and shares and leveraging, and all the stuff that got us into trouble, I understand how to live within a budget, so that’s what I’ve been working on.”
“And how does Keith feel about it?”
“He doesn’t have a choice. His mum actually sat him down and told him that if he wanted to save this marriage, he would have to let me be in charge of the checkbook and all the accounts.”
“Wow! And he listened?”
“Yes.”
“So are things any better between you two?”
“Honestly? No. Right now I hate him.”
Kit takes a sharp intake of breath. “Are you serious? ”
“Pretty much. Most of the time I can barely talk to him.”
“Do you think . . . I mean . . . are you going to . . .”
“What? Get divorced?”
Kit nods.
“I don’t know. I’m not thinking that far ahead. Things are about as bad as they’ve ever been, and if we didn’t have the kids, it might be a very different story. But I also hope that this anger I feel will pass, and we can find our way through. I just . . . I guess the hardest thing has been realizing that Keith isn’t who I thought he was. He isn’t a financial Whiz Kid; he’s been completely irresponsible, and inept, at least as far as finances go.”
“You really think he’s that bad? This is the worst financial crisis we’ve ever known, surely you can’t blame him entirely.”
“Yes and no. I agree that these are terrible times, but we just couldn’t afford our life, and that’s what I have a problem with. You look at his salary and his bonus, and my salary, and you look at our monthly expenditure, and it just doesn’t add up. I take full responsibility for the consequences of not being interested, because if I’d known, I would never have let it happen. I was stupid and naive, and passed on all responsibility to Keith, and I wish I hadn’t. I can’t help but resent him for constantly saying it was fine, that we could afford it, when we so clearly couldn’t. Even without this crash, we were living on borrowed money, which is fine if you have a fortune in savings that are earning better interest elsewhere, but we didn’t. We had nothing.”
“I can’t even imagine,” Kit says. “It’s just awful, for both of you.”
“And for the kids. We went to see the headmaster to talk about financial aid, and even then Keith was trying to pretend it wasn’t so bad, because he didn’t want anyone to see him as a failure, and meanwhile we have to show exactly how bad it is in order to qualify.”
“So did you get it?”
“We don’t know yet, but I don’t think it’s good. The headmaster was fine, and he said they would meet with the board and discuss it, but they’re only ever interested in the wealthy parents, so I can’t imagine they’ll be the slightest bit interested in us now that the money’s gone.”
“No! That sounds so mercenary.”
“I know. It’s one of the things I’ve always struggled with, that Highfield Academy is such a status symbol, but I guess when you’re part of the club, you don’t think about it. I’ve always known that they treat the famous and the wealthiest parents differently, but I think they always saw us as among the wealthiest, so we took it for granted.”
She sighs before continuing.
“I’ve met people who went to the Academy for interviews and hated it because they felt it was so elitist, and I always felt I had to defend my children going there, but already I feel like an outsider, and I suddenly realize exactly what everyone is talking about.”
“You can’t seriously mean you’re being treated differently.”
“Oh I do. There was a dinner party last weekend with a group of parents in Paige’s grade, and we’ve always been included. I mean, it’s like a regular dinner club
, and we’re friends with these people, we’re part of this group. We weren’t invited.”
“Jesus! That’s horrible!” Kit is shocked.
“I know. If it hadn’t happened to me, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
“Are you sure there isn’t some other explanation?”
“Put it like this: I wasn’t supposed to find out, and one of the moms asked me what I was bringing, and was mortified when I said I knew nothing about it. So then the woman who’s hosting rang and left some stupid message saying they were having some work done in the house, and they had to keep it very small as they didn’t have access to their dining room, and she hoped I wasn’t offended.”
“That sounds reasonably plausible, no?”
“Yes, except the next day she had a holiday gift show. In her dining room.”
“Oh my God! So she lied completely.”
“Yes.”
“Did you call her on it?”
“I couldn’t be bothered. I just want to stay as far away from those people as possible. The truth is, I liked them, but they were never my real friends. I would never call up a single one of those mothers if I was in a crisis, and isn’t that, after all, the definition of a friend?”
Kit smiles. “It’s part of it. Trusting someone, being able to be yourself and feeling safe. Those are all parts of it too.”
“Well, thank God for you.” Charlie raises her Diet Coke in a silent toast to Kit, and Kit, with tears in her eyes, raises her can in return.
Later that day, Edie puts mint leaves from her garden into the pot and pours hot water over them.
“I love your kitchen,” Kit says, looking around happily. “It’s so . . . cozy.”
“You mean cramped.” Edie barks with laughter, placing a steaming mug in front of Kit. “Don’t worry. I love it too. I can stand at the sink and everything is within about three steps.”
“I didn’t mean the size. I meant the way you’ve done it. I love that it’s so retro.”
“This isn’t retro, my dear girl. This is original. These closets were installed in 1958.”
