“I can’t, Ed. I’m looking at going to prison if things go wrong. I can’t do that to anyone. I don’t want to get to know him or date anyone until I know what’s going to happen, or till after I’ve been acquitted.”
“So you’re supposed to live in a vacuum until then? How does that seem fair to you?” The thought of it upset him profoundly for her.
“It’s fair to him. I don’t have the right to inflict my problems on someone else.”
“I’m in it with you,” he said simply. “And I’m not complaining. Maybe you should tell him the truth, and let him decide if he wants to see you when he comes to town. My guess is he’ll want to anyway. Don’t carry this all alone, Syd. That’s not right for you.” The trial was set for September, exactly during Fashion Week when they were doing their first fashion show, which was the final irony, but Steve didn’t want to change the trial date. At least not yet. She had no idea how she was going to manage a trial and their first collection, but somehow she’d have to.
Bob called her again that afternoon and suggested dinner instead of lunch, if that worked better for her, and she said it did, which wasn’t really true. She was free for both, but her refusal was about the sword hanging over her head that he knew nothing about. She was planning to tell him, as Ed had suggested, but she wasn’t looking forward to it.
She invited him to her apartment for a drink, and they were going to a French restaurant in the neighborhood afterward. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him at the beginning or the end of dinner. She was going to play it by ear once she saw him.
She could see that he was a little startled at the size of her apartment, while she made light of it and joked about living in a shoebox. From everything he’d seen of her so far, he could sense what her life had been like before, without her going into detail. The kind of clothes she wore, the occasional gold bracelet, the Hermès Kelly bag she’d worn when they had lunch, her whole demeanor, she had gone from the lap of luxury to a tiny apartment, with most of the possessions she had left piled up in boxes. But even the picture frames she had scattered were beautiful. She had led a life of quality, and she had lost it due to her husband’s negligence. It made him angry for her, even if she was gracious about it.
She poured him a scotch and soda, and they sat and talked for a while and he told her what he’d been doing since he’d last seen her. He’d been to Dubai and Saudi Arabia, Shanghai to see his daughter, and at home in Hong Kong, and she told him how establishing the business was going. When they had finished the exchange, he looked at her for a long moment. He had a sense of her that he couldn’t explain, and she felt it too.
“Something’s bothering you, Sydney. Do you want to tell me what it is? And why you keep balking about seeing me?” He was sure there was a reason, and she hesitated for a long moment before she answered.
“There’s something I haven’t told you, about everything that’s happened since my husband died. I needed a job, so I took one at a company that my kids said was owned by a scumbag. It wasn’t all bad, because I met Ed there and I wouldn’t have met him otherwise. And the scumbag was extremely kind to me at first. He gave me a job even though I hadn’t designed in nearly two decades. He said he wanted to give me my own signature line, which sounded fantastic and is a big deal in fashion. And Ed taught me a lot about the business as it is today, to bring me up to date. We went to China together. It seemed like a great opportunity. But it’s essentially a knockoff house. The theories are good, the way the owner explains it. He says he wants to bring high fashion to the masses, and in many instances he does, and the stuff looks great. They copy other designers a lot, and he’s careful about not going too far, and changing it just enough, but they have a bad reputation for copying anyway. It’s not noble but they do meet a need in the market, and people eat up their stuff. But I discovered the hard way that their practices aren’t always legal.
“He showed me some sample bags that looked terrific. They seemed like high-quality leather. There was something familiar about them, although not completely, and we were buying them so cheap we could sell them for next to nothing. He put me in charge of purchasing them, and told me he’d give me a signature line and a percentage of the profits, which was very appealing. He sent me to China to buy the bags. I signed all the requisition, import, and order forms, and he had me sign all the customs documents. I shipped them, and he had me pick them up at customs in New York, to clear them with the broker.
“I’ll spare you the gory details, but all two hundred handbags were stolen. They were by a famous designer, and slightly modified to change them—not in production but after the fact. They had false linings to conceal their real brand. They were flat-out stolen. I had no idea. I went to clear them through customs, and got arrested as soon as I showed up. My name and signature is on everything, and I’ve been charged with trafficking stolen goods. My employer claims he had no idea they were stolen, and has even implied that I was on the take from the shipper and manufacturer to bring them in. I go to trial in September, and if I can’t prove I’m innocent, I could go to prison. They offered me a deal two days ago, but it involves my pleading guilty to a felony, and agreeing to a year in prison for something I didn’t do, and didn’t know. I’m innocent, so I turned down the deal.”
Tears burned her eyes as she said it, and she never took her eyes off his. “We’ve got detectives looking for evidence of my boss’s guilt, but so far we’ve got nothing. So I may really go to prison, possibly for five to ten years if a jury finds me guilty. I don’t want to pull you into it, make you feel sorry for me, or start something I can’t finish until I’m sixty when I get out. Until this is over, I have no right to date anyone. I don’t want to do that to you. This is why Ed quit where we were working when he saw what they did to me, and why we wound up starting our own business, thanks to the Chins. And Phillip Chin very kindly found my attorney.
“Now you know everything,” she said simply. For a long time, he didn’t speak, and just sat on the couch, looking at her and thinking about what she’d said. He didn’t know how to even begin to tell her what he was feeling, as he took her hand in his and held it. Then she saw a slow, gentle smile spread across his face, and wasn’t sure what that meant.
“I promise you, Sydney, if you go to prison, I will bring you oranges, and a cake with a file in it. That is the most horrific story I have ever heard, and the man you worked for should be hanged, or horsewhipped. I cannot believe that your innocence will not shine through, or that you won’t find the evidence you need to implicate him. But I want you to know that whatever happens, I don’t think less of you. I don’t believe for a moment that you’re guilty. And it makes me sick to think of you going through this, and the agony you’ve undoubtedly suffered because of it. But I am not for one moment going to wait ten years to see you and take you out to dinner. And whatever happens, happens. You can’t stop living because of this, and you have to keep believing in some kind of justice.”
She nodded as tears filled her eyes. “I’m trying to. It gets pretty scary sometimes. The four days I spent in jail were the most terrifying of my life. I can’t even imagine what ten years would be like, let alone one.” She choked on a sob as she said it.
“I don’t think that will ever happen,” he said quietly. “But you have to put it in perspective. Think of prisoners of war, and people in concentration camps. You can live through whatever you have to. You’ll find the strength you need if it comes to that. But I don’t think it ever will. I think good will prevail here. I firmly believe that.” He couldn’t imagine all that she’d been through in less than a year. As he thought about it, he leaned over and put an arm around her and pulled her close to him. “We’re not going to worry about it now. Work on your business, keep busy, create your clothing line. Do what the lawyer says. And when you go to trial, we’ll deal with it. You are surrounded by people who love you.” Although they both knew that the treatment she had met at her stepdaughters’ hands hadn’t been just
, or loving, or fair.
“I’ve let everyone down,” she said, with her voice breaking. “It’s already been in the fashion press and all over the Internet. They are making an example of me. Can you conceive how my children will feel if I go to prison?”
“They’ll survive it, but I believe none of you will have to. You just have to take this one day at a time, until it’s finally behind you. And, Sydney, I want you to know that I think you are a very brave woman. Thank you for telling me.” It had taken courage too to tell him, and he admired her honesty.
“It didn’t feel right not telling you, but I didn’t want you to hate me for it either.”
“I don’t hate you, but your ex-boss is a different matter. What a sonofabitch this guy is to set you up, let you take the risks, and then take the fall for him. If there is justice in this world, he’s going to be a very, very unhappy person after this. His whole world may come crumbling down.” It was an appealing prospect but there was no sign of it so far. His world was intact, and she might be going to prison.
They walked to the nearby bistro then, and held hands as he commented on all that she had told him.
“Between your husband dying, your stepdaughters, and this monster you worked for, I can’t imagine how you’ve gotten through this year and stayed sane.”
“I don’t know either. But good things happened too. Ed, the business. My kids, I have a good lawyer, meeting you.” She smiled at him and he put an arm around her shoulders again.
“It’s going to be all right, Sydney. I don’t know how, but I just feel it.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said in a sober voice, and he was quiet too. He was shuddering inwardly at what it would be like for her if she was convicted and sent to prison. It just couldn’t happen. He wished it with his whole being. And then they went into the restaurant and sat down. Much to her surprise, in spite of her serious confessions to him, they had a lovely evening, laughing and talking, and didn’t mention the trial again.
Chapter 12
It was the first really hot weekend of the summer, a broiling hot Sunday in June, and Sydney was catching up on her reading. She had a stack of Women’s Wear Dailys to get through, the Sunday Times, a copy of The Wall Street Journal, and the New York Post. She knew she couldn’t read all of them, but she had to keep up with Women’s Wear Daily for work, and she picked up the New York Post just for fun, and first turned to the gossip column on page 6. She scanned it for anyone familiar and stopped halfway down the page, riveted.
“Heiress Kellie Wells Madison, heir to the fortune of her father, Andrew Wells of the investment banking firm of the same name, is being divorced by her husband, Geoff Madison. The man-about-town recently seen with two well-known actresses and a brand-new divorcée left the family home six weeks ago, a source close to the couple assures us. He’s allegedly suing her for a $100 million settlement and spousal support. House rich and cash poor (she and her twin sister, Kyra, now own the family estate), Kellie is selling the exceptional Connecticut home and extensive grounds for a mere $70 million, in order to give her twin her share and satisfy Geoff’s demands in the divorce…and do we hear wedding bells in the distance for Geoff? We think so. Sorry, Kellie. Hope someone buys the house soon!”
Sydney read the piece three times to make sure she got it right, and felt her stomach turn over while she did. They were selling the house that she and Andrew had loved so much, and done so much to improve. First they threw her out, and now they were selling it a year after his death, to pay off Kellie’s cheating greedy gigolo husband. She knew Andrew would have been sick about it too.
She called Sabrina immediately. She was in the Hamptons with Steve for the weekend, but she answered her cell when she saw her mother’s name come up.
“I just read last Thursday’s edition of the Post, Page Six,” she said as soon as she heard Sabrina’s voice. “See if you can Google it. Kellie is selling the house. Geoff is divorcing her, and she needs the money. He wants a hundred-million-dollar settlement and spousal support, and they’re intimating that he’s marrying someone else. The guy’s a pro.” Sabrina wasn’t sure how to react to the news, except that in a way she felt that they didn’t deserve to keep the house, but she knew that whatever happened, it would upset her mother. She had loved the house. But Sabrina also loved the idea that Geoff was dumping one of the twins.
“It serves her right,” Sabrina gloated. “But I’m sorry about the house, Mom.”
“So am I,” she said sadly. “Andrew would be heartbroken.” But Sabrina was more so that the girls had thrown her mother out, and she was still angry at Andrew for not protecting her mother from that and his rotten daughters. “I can’t imagine they’ll get that kind of money for it,” Sydney continued.
“It depends on who buys it. They will if it’s some Russian oligarch, or new Chinese money. Look at the bright side, even after they sell it, if they get their price, she’ll still owe Geoff another sixty or seventy million dollars. Kellie must be mortified that he’s leaving her for someone else.” They both knew that Kyra wouldn’t care about selling the house. She hated living in the country, and would probably rather have the money.
“I guess it’s what Sophie said before. Karma,” Sydney said, mourning the house again. “And Veronica said they poured a fortune into it in the remodel.” Not that any part of it had needed to be redone. It had been in pristine shape when Sydney had turned it over to Kellie.
“Try not to think about it,” Sabrina told her. “It won’t change anything now.” They talked for a few more minutes, and afterward, Sabrina called Sophie to tell her. She and Grayson were lying on the roof of her building in bathing suits, frying. He hated the beach and didn’t like the country. He felt safer in the city. Sophie couldn’t believe the story when Sabrina sent it to her from her iPhone.
“How’s Mom taking it?” Sophie asked, worried.
“She sounds sad. It’s such a waste. They throw her out, so they can move in supposedly, ruin her life, and sell it a year later. Geoff is such a greedy little bastard. But the whole thing serves Kellie right.”
“She must be ready to kill him,” Sophie said in amusement. “Where are you, by the way?”
“Sag Harbor, with Steve,” she said happily.
“Say hi to him for me,” Sophie said wistfully. She wished she could get Grayson to the Hamptons. They’d had dinner a few times with Steve and Sabrina, but with Grayson’s social anxiety, he didn’t like going out to dinner either. Sophie was trying to help him work through it. But it was hard sometimes being with someone so badly scarred by his childhood. She felt more like his therapist than his girlfriend at times. And they missed out on so many things that would have been fun. Sabrina had been telling her for months that she ought to break up with him, but Sophie felt sorry for him and didn’t want to hurt him. But seeing her sister with Steve made her realize what she was missing.
Sydney put the Post aside to show it to her daughters, and worked through the stack of WWDs that she had neglected all week. And like clockwork, halfway through her reading, Veronica called.
“How are you?” Veronica said cheerfully. “I’ve been meaning to call you all week.”
“I’ll bet you have,” Sydney said ironically. “Probably since Thursday,” she said, glancing at the New York Post on the coffee table.
“Why? Did something happen on Thursday? Did you get that problem with the stolen bags worked out?” she asked innocently, hoping for a juicy tidbit.
“That’s all taken care of,” Sydney lied to her. She wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of telling her she was going to trial. Veronica was a gossipmonger. And Sydney had heard from none of her other friends in a year, and no longer cared. She had gotten over it. “I started a new clothing line with a friend six months ago.”
“That’s so exciting!” she said, pretending that she gave a damn, which Sydney knew she didn’t. “That’s so wonderful that you’ve gotten back into designing. Who’s the friend?”
“I thought you’d want to know the house is on the market. For seventy million. I doubt they’ll get it.”
“I heard about it. They might get their price from the right buyer.”
“They screwed it up with the remodel,” Veronica said dismissively. “Geoff’s divorcing her.”
“I know that too. I read it in the Post. I guess you did too. What would we do without Page Six to keep us informed?” Veronica liked showing that she was in the know.
“I just thought you’d want to hear. I know how you loved that house.”
“Actually, I still do,” Sydney said honestly. “And tell me something, were you hoping to make me feel better or worse telling me that they’ve put the house on the market?”
“I thought you should know, that’s all.” Veronica sounded instantly defensive.
“I tell you what, let’s make a deal. When something really bad happens to me and I’m really down about it, I’ll call you. That way you’ll have the jump on everyone else and can tell them the gossip. You don’t need to call me with bad news to make me feel bad, because I read it in the papers, just like you do. How does that sound to you? You don’t have to call me anymore, Veronica. I don’t think we have anything left to say to each other, do you?” She felt a weight lift off her heart as she said it.
“I don’t know why you’re being so nasty about it. I just thought you’d rather hear it from a friend first, instead of reading it in the papers.”
“Theoretically, that’s true. I would rather hear it from a friend. But I don’t think you qualify these days, do you? When was the last time you called just to say hi, and see how I am? I can’t remember the last time. I don’t need a bad news bulletin, Veronica, so you can revel in my miseries and pretend to be sympathetic. To tell you the truth, that’s gotten really old. And I’m more interested in good news these days. Maybe you should try calling Kellie. I’m sure she has a lot to say about Geoff and the divorce. My life is pretty boring now. No one has died. I’m not getting divorced. I think my new venture is going to do very well. We might even make some decent money. So you can stop the news bulletins now. I’m over it. Thanks for calling.”
Fall from Grace Page 17
