by Jane Green
“I work in finance.”
What else can he possibly say to fit in, to have a hope of achieving millionaire, or billionaire, status, before the age of forty? To be, in short, like everybody else.
There is nothing else he has ever done, ever thought of doing. He has heard horror stories of men who worked on Wall Street, now working at Starbucks. He shivers with fear when he hears that. How can he possibly do that? Even if it were to cover health insurance for the entire family. How?
What are his loves, he was asked the other day by someone, a headhunter, who was telling him, just like all the others, to find something else.
His loves? His family. Shopping. Fast cars. Business—although the only business he has ever known is the business of money. Nothing that could translate into a new career.
He feels utterly lost. His work life, the thing that defined him for over twenty years, has been destroyed, and now he feels his marriage slipping away from him as well, and he doesn’t know how to save it, doesn’t think that he has the energy, for it’s all he can do to get out of bed in the morning and make the pretense of looking for another job.
Right now, that’s all he can do, and without Charlie’s support, without her partnership, her friendship, he’s not even sure how much longer he can do that.
“Oh my God! That dress is gorgeous!” Kit fingers the gray shift dress, trimmed with silver sequins, that Charlie is wearing for the party.
“I know. A remnant from my old life.”
“I thought you’d sold everything.”
“Most. The Consignment Store is stuffed with my clothes. It’s so depressing. And I swear I saw Marianna Miller walking down Main Street the other day in my coat.”
“Why did you think it was yours?”
“How many people in Highfield had that exact Oscar de la Renta coat? I didn’t get that at Rakers, I got it at Bergdorf’s, and I don’t believe Marianna happened to be in the city during that particular season, buying that particular coat.” Charlie sighs. “So, most has gone, but I’ve kept a handful of key things, and the clothes that really won’t get anything in consignment. This one”—she pulls the plastic bag up over the hanger completely—“has a stain under one arm so it would be a reject.”
“Good job. I love it.”
“I know. Thank you.”
Kit peers at her friend closely. “So how are you? Any offers on the house?”
Charlie snorts. “I wish. Lots of people looking, but there’s so much to choose from, why, it seems, would ours stand out? I keep telling the realtor they have to bring in more creative types who will appreciate the barn, or people who run a small business from home.”
“And?”
“And I think the realtors are just as desperate as us.”
“So you’re definitely moving out?”
“Yup. In with the in-laws in three weeks, and I have to say they’ve been extraordinary.”
“So there has been something of a silver lining?”
“Yes. If it counts. It’s just so frightening. And the business. How can I carry on the business without a space? My in-laws have offered their garage, but it’s unheated, and not set up for anything.”
“Could you buy a space heater?”
“At the moment, I may have to.”
“And things with Keith?” Kit doesn’t know whether she should ask.
Charlie shrugs. “I’m working on forgiveness. I’m also reading the Kübler-Ross book on grief, on the advice of my old therapist.”
“You had a therapist?”
“Course. Didn’t everyone?”
Kit laughs. “No! I didn’t.”
“Well, I did, and I phoned her. She said I was going through the grieving process for my old life, and I had to work through all the stages before reaching acceptance. She said reading the book would help me understand.”
“And does it?”
“Funnily enough, it does. It makes things a little easier, and I’m beginning to accept that anger is part of the process. But I’ve been targeting it all at Keith, which isn’t fair. It’s helping. Definitely.”
“Good.” Kit nods, satisfied. “I’m glad.”
“So any word from Annabel?”
Kit shudders. “No. Thank goodness.”
“You still feel that way?”
“I think I’m going to feel that way for a long time to come. When she arrived I thought she was family. The fact that she was blood meant something special, bonded us immediately. I guess I was really naive.”
“I don’t blame you. She was very likable. Until she wasn’t. And you do share a mother. I understand why you would feel a bond.”
“The thing is, I don’t know whether I truly did. I really wanted to, and I tried to create one, but she drove me insane. Even before the whole Adam thing, I was beginning to question her.”
“Have you and Adam talked at all?”
“Barely. I think he’s too embarrassed. He totally knows he was wrong.”
“And she didn’t tell you anything?”
“No. I have a feeling our paths will cross again, but I’m not ready for her yet. She’s someone who seems to come with a lot of drama, and I’m at a place in my life where I’ve made a conscious decision not to deal with drama. Blood or no blood.”
“You sound wise.”
“I feel wise. For as empty as I felt right after it happened, I’m also glad it happened. It made me question a lot of things.”
“Such as?”
“My family. My friends. My relationships.”
“You’ve really been through a rocky patch.”
Kit laughs. “I have. But right now it feels like the sun is starting to shine again. Very slowly, and it’s pretty damn weak, but I feel optimistic again, like good things are about to happen.”
“I’m sure they will.” Charlie smiles. “You’re going to be fine.”
Chapter Thirty
For many, it is the first time they have been through the stone gateposts at the end of Dune Road, the ones that guard the gravel drive sweeping up to Hillpoint.
Tracy is upstairs as the staff put the finishing touches to the party. Jed has been in a furious mood since being dumped by Kit, and she has barely been back to her house, too terrified of what she will find.
When she has gone back home, she has wondered why she bothered, why she didn’t just stay with Robert. She is finally happy, with a man she loves, but she has to figure out a way to get rid of Jed once and for all. She doesn’t want to see Jed again, doesn’t want to give him the power any more. Not now she has seen the alternative.
Jed thinks she will bring Robert down, but she could never do that, and she doesn’t care about the money, has never cared about the money. If Robert lost everything, she would still want to be with him. She is safe here, and the only thing she wants is to remove Jed from her life, and continue without him.
Could she pay him off? Possibly. He has always been motivated by dollars. But would he stay away?
She dabs Touche Éclat on the hint of the shadow around her eye, and sweeps her hair back in a ponytail, brushing Mineral Veil over her face and adding a touch of dark red lipstick. She has adapted her look significantly since she has been with Robert.
From California babe, to girlfriend of best-selling author. It isn’t as far a jump as you might think.
The only way to figure this out, she knows, is to tell Robert. She is going to need his help, and if he decides to leave her, because her betrayal is too much, she will survive. It will be hard, but she will survive.
She always has before.
The party is in full swing, a pianist playing traditional Christmas carols on the baby grand piano in the living room, everyone congratulating Kit on what a wonderful job she has done, people moving through the house to say hello to Robert McClore.
For those who are here for the first time—the wives and husbands of people he knows—Robert is not what they expected. Nothing reclusive about him, and so handsome! Far mor
e handsome in the flesh, and such manners! Such charm!
Adam stands by the bar, and turns to see Kit on the other side of the room. It has been too long. They have to talk. He orders a French Martini for Kit and a Dirty Martini for himself, then holding both drinks high, he inches through the crowd toward her.
“What’s this? ” She is able to give him a genuine smile, for the party seems to be going better than she could have imagined.
And tonight she feels beautiful, in her black sequined cocktail dress, her hair falling in soft waves, and seeing Adam come toward her is like the perfect end to a perfect dream, and she cannot stop smiling.
“Sustenance. You’ve done a wonderful job, and I thought you could do with a drink.”
“French Martini?”
Adam smiles. “You think I’d forget?”
They exchange a glance, and hold on a second too long. Kit’s heart lurches and she looks down. She can’t do this, it hurts too much. It’s too late for them now, given what happened with Annabel. It’s way beyond the point when she and Adam might have been able to salvage something from whatever chemistry she thought remained.
“This is an incredible party. You’ve obviously worked so hard.” He looks at her gently. “You look tired.”
“I do?” Her face falls. “I thought I’d covered up my shadows expertly. I used Charlie’s make-up.”
“You look beautiful,” he whispers, the smile fading from his face.
Kit’s heart lurches again, and she turns away and sips her drink so he doesn’t see the sudden flush.
“Darling!”
They both swivel to see the familiar figure of Ginny, shimmering in a silver dress, huge diamonds in her ears, her hair piled up, pulling a man along behind her.
“Aha. At last we get to meet the famous Peter!” Kit grins at Adam, the moment broken.
“Darling!” Ginny double-kisses both Kit and Adam. “You two look so adorable together! Are you sure the divorce was a good idea? Honestly, you look like you were made for one another.”
“Oh Mother!” Kits says angrily.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I love both of you and . . .” She sees the look in Kit’s eye. “Okay, I’ll stop. Anyway, speaking of love, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” She smiles at the man. “This is my daughter and son-in-law, Kit and Adam Hargrove.”
Kit thinks about correcting her, reminding her that Adam is her ex-son-in-law, but she doesn’t. And neither does Adam.
“How do you do?” Adam smiles warmly and shakes his hand. “So nice to meet you.”
“I’m Peter,” he says, turning to Kit. “But nobody other than your mother actually calls me that. Everyone else calls me Plum.”
Plum? Plum? Why is that name so familiar? The clouds of Kit’s memory start swirling as she attempts to place that name, and that face, that tanned, etched face, with startlingly white teeth, a face that somehow she sees as a young man’s, only she doesn’t know how, or why.
“And this is the most bizarre thing,” Ginny bubbles excitedly, “Plum knows Robert!”
Kit looks at him, squinting slightly as if this will help summon the memory.
“From many years ago,” Plum says. “I haven’t seen him since the seventies.”
“Plum Apostoles!” Kit shouts out, as if she is taking part in a game show.
“Yes.” He raises an eyebrow. “That would be me.”
At ten o’clock, Kit finds herself sneaking exhausted glances at her watch. She is so tired, wants to have a hot bath and crawl into bed, but can see no way of leaving this party until the end.
Tracy is ostensibly the hostess, but Kit knows that if there are any problems Tracy will have no interest in sorting them out.
So far tonight, when the ice ran out, and when they needed to rustle up a Band-Aid for a child, it was Kit to whom Robert turned, and while she has welcomed being so busy, now that she is able to stop, she is suddenly shattered, and she knows she needs to take a minute to lie down.
She slips through the kitchen, forcing smiles at the catering staff, who are busy placing tiny jewel-colored petit fours on silver serving trays, through the butler’s pantry and into her familiar office.
She doesn’t bother putting on the lights. All she wants to do is lie down on the sofa and close her eyes. Just for a moment. Just pretend that she is at home in her bed. A five-minute power nap. Her life has been so frenetic of late, organizing this party, that there hasn’t been time to even think about recent events, and there is still so much unfinished business. With Annabel, Steve and, mostly, with Adam.
She needs a five-minute power nap that will replenish her energy enough to get her through the rest of the night, to enable her to pretend she is having a marvelous time.
She lies on the sofa, breathing deeply, trying out a meditation technique she once learned: visualizing a beach, golden sand, turquoise water, palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. She tries, but images of Steve and Annabel keep forcing their way into her mind.
There is so much she doesn’t know. People enter your life and you take them at face value. People like Annabel. And Steve. And suddenly she realizes that she knows nothing about Steve. She’s never been to his apartment. She doesn’t know anything about his work. Nothing about his family, his friends.
But she assumed he was good, assumed he was like her, in the same way she made assumptions about Annabel.
When her world was turned upside down, the only thing that felt safe, the only thing she knew and trusted, despite his transgression—and she could tell it was something he wished had never happened—was Adam.
Is still Adam.
She continues trying to visualize the tranquil beach, turquoise water, golden sand, but now she pictures Adam instead, and instantly she calms down. She sees his reassuring smile, his ruffled hair in the morning.
Suddenly, she hears the click of the door and the light in the lobby outside the office is flicked on.
It is Robert. And Tracy. Standing just outside the open door. She knows she should excuse herself, but they are having a whispered conversation, and something tells her she should not be there, so she makes herself as still as possible, hoping they won’t come into the office and find her, feeling guilty, but the moment for her to announce herself, if it was ever there at all, has gone.
“Darling girl,” Robert says. “I’ve been wanting to get you on my own all night.”
“You have?” Kit can hear the smile in Tracy’s voice.
“I have. An extraordinary thing happened tonight. Plum Apostoles is here, the man who was on the yacht the night Penelope died. He is someone I haven’t seen for many, many years, and it’s like a gift, that he is here tonight, a reminder of how different my life is now, and how happy I am now. Happier than I ever thought I would be.”
“Thank you,” Tracy says. “I love you. And I’m also so happy with you.”
“So there is something I want to ask you. It is a question I never thought I would ask anyone again—”
“Stop.” Tracy’s voice is a whisper. “I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“I . . .”
Tracy’s footsteps move, and Kit can picture her pacing, prays she doesn’t pace over to the sofa to see Kit lying there; she is now feeling guilty beyond imagination.
“. . . I haven’t been honest with you.”
“What do you mean?” A note of confusion in Robert’s voice.
“Oh Robert. I love you so much. I wanted to tell you everything but I couldn’t. I was so scared you’d leave me.”
“Tell me what you’re talking about.” The confusion in his voice has given way to coldness which, Kit knows, is hiding fear.
Tracy sighs. “I don’t even know where to start. Let me start by showing you.” There is a rustle of clothing, then nothing.
Kit has no idea what is going on, until she hears Robert’s voice, horrified.
“How did this happen? What are these scars from?”
“Steve?” Robert is confused; Kit starts to feel sick. “I don’t know anyone called Steve.”
“You’ve met him. He’s the man who has been dating Kit. Steve is a false name. It’s . . . a very long story.” She closes her eyes, feeling sick with nerves.
“I think perhaps it’s one you ought to tell me now, don’t you?” Robert’s voice is colder, fearful perhaps.
Tracy takes a deep breath.
“I’m horrified that I didn’t tell you before. I couldn’t. And I’m so, so desperately sorry. I wanted to, badly, but I didn’t know how to. I met Jed in my twenties, which I guess should be the beginning of the story, but in fact it probably started much earlier, when I was a child. My earliest memory is of my father slapping my mother, and her crying. I would stand in the corner, terrified, not knowing what to do.”
Kit’s nausea sweeps up, and she wants to run out, but she can’t move; she lies there, frozen in fear, as she hears Tracy’s story unfold.
There is silence in the room when Tracy finishes. Robert buries his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes, trying to comprehend what he has just heard.
He looks up, bemused. “I don’t know what to say. I just don’t know how to take it all in.”
“Robert, I love you. You have to believe that. And I understand if you decide you can’t see me any more, but I needed you to know the full story, and I also need you to know that at forty-one years old, for the first time in my life, I have fallen in love. I love you, and I want to be with you, but I will respect whatever decision you make.”
“I need a little time,” Robert says quietly. “I think perhaps you should leave. I need to think about all of this.”
“Okay,” Tracy whispers, going over to him and kissing him on his forehead. “I love you.”
Robert doesn’t say anything in return, and Tracy goes back through the kitchen, bursting into tears when she reaches her car.
