Daddy's Girls

by Danielle Steel

  “So when’s Dad coming back?” Billy asked her their first night home, when she took a frozen pizza out of the oven, and had burned it. His words hit her like an ice cold shower.

  “She doesn’t know,” Morgan growled at him in an angry stage whisper. “Don’t ask her!” They didn’t want bad news either.

  “Your sister’s right,” their mother said in a tired voice. They’d been home for six hours and she was already exhausted, and every time she walked into her bedroom, she thought of her discoveries there two months before. The room felt toxic. Their life hadn’t been the same since, and probably never would be again. It had seemed easier to be brave and a little cavalier on the ranch, trying on different decisions, to see which one fit. So far, none did. Leaping into divorce seemed too extreme, moving back in together was impossible. They couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened, she was incapable of forgetting it, and she couldn’t sweep it under the rug anymore. A year or two ago, or ten years, she might have. Now she wanted to face it, and make the right decision for all of them. She knew that sooner or later it would take a toll on the kids. They had been good sports so far.

  Peter called her that night and invited her to lunch the day the kids started school, since he knew she’d be free then. He knew what the week before school looked like, a frenzy of activity, planning, driving from store to store, and setting up carpool schedules with other mothers. There were additional carpools for their afterschool activities. Morgan wanted to start ballet again, and Gemma had gotten her hooked on yoga and Pilates. Billy had to go back to the orthodontist.

  “How are you?” Peter asked her as though she were a friend he hadn’t seen in years. Time had put distance between them. Her life seemed to be full of faces from the past now. She had run into them in Santa Ynez constantly. Now he was one of them, except that they were still married, or said they were, and she thought she still loved him, or who he had been before. She wasn’t sure who he was now, and if she could love that man. The children had spent Saturday night and Sunday with him, but she was out when he picked them up, so she missed him. He’d only seen the children one weekend in two months. He said he was working the rest of the time. Thad had driven them to Santa Barbara to meet their father and a driver brought them back, so Caroline hadn’t seen him since the end of June. She had to face the music now. They both did. They couldn’t hang in space forever. She hadn’t called the lawyer back. She had nothing to tell him. She wanted to talk to Peter first and see him and how she felt before deciding to divorce.

  “I’m fine. How are you?” she asked politely when he called.

  “Okay, it’s been weird not being with you and the kids,” he said in a sad voice, but so was finding pictures of his penis and his girlfriend’s vagina in her night table. She thought of it every time she thought of him now, and hated their bedroom, knowing what had gone on there. It still felt like days ago. Two months later, the memory hadn’t dimmed. Just hearing him brought it all back. She knew he had rented an apartment in the city, in a building that was famous for housing divorcing men, and couples having affairs. She wasn’t sure which he was. She didn’t know if the affair was over or not, which made a difference.

  They agreed to have lunch at a restaurant near his office. It was noisier than she would have liked, if they were going to have a serious conversation about their future. But someplace quiet would have scared her. She didn’t feel ready for an intense exchange, didn’t want an angry confrontation, and didn’t want to cry in public. Noisy was better. Maybe she wouldn’t hear him say it when he told her he wanted a divorce and was marrying Veronica Ashton. She was afraid of what he’d say, but she wanted to know.

  She dropped both kids off at their respective schools on the first day, and went home to dress for lunch with her husband. She didn’t know what to wear. Sexy, no, ridiculous and pathetic. Formal. She took out a suit she hadn’t worn in two years, and would look like she was going to court or a funeral, which was why she had bought it, when a friend’s mother died. Casual looked too sloppy, jeans like she wasn’t even trying. She looked in Morgan’s closet since they traded clothes sometimes, but she’d look like she was trying to compete with his twelve-year-old girlfriend. She finally settled on a black skirt and white sweater, and a pair of heels she pulled out of the back of her closet, and brushed her blond hair back in a ponytail. She wore mascara and lipstick, and had a deep tan. She didn’t want to look like she was trying to seduce him, she wasn’t, but she wanted to look good enough that he’d have some regrets about destroying their marriage when she asked him for a divorce, if that seemed like the right answer over a salad.

  She had indigestion thinking about it, and arrived ten minutes late because the nearest garage was full, and she had to walk five blocks to the restaurant from where she parked.

  “I’m sorry I’m late” was the first thing she said to him after not seeing him for two months. He was wearing a suit and a pale blue tie, and she assumed he had meetings that morning, although he rarely wore a tie to them, except with clients who flew out from New York. She knew all his routines, just as he knew hers, and she realized that this was different than the people she ran into in Santa Ynez who wanted to know what she’d been doing for the last twenty years. Peter had become a stranger in the last two months, but everything about him was still familiar.

  He was waiting for her at the table, and was drinking a Bloody Mary. He normally didn’t drink at lunch. He looked nervous, and so was she. This wasn’t like a first date. It felt like their last one, and they both wanted to get it right.

  They made small talk about the kids until after they ordered. She told him how well they rode now. He ordered a steak, and she a chicken salad and didn’t think she could eat it, but she could push it around on her plate. He commented on how much Billy had grown over the summer, and asked if she had set up the math tutor for Morgan. She had. She was back at her job as perfect mother, having failed as perfect wife. If she hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been sleeping with twenty-three-year-olds in their bedroom.

  He finally touched on the subject halfway through lunch. She had been dreading it since she got there, but it was why they were having lunch in a busy downtown restaurant, and he wouldn’t be coming home to her that night.

  “So where are we headed, Caro? I’ve got the apartment for three more weeks, and I need to know what I’m doing.” That was it? The apartment? What about their life? Her heart? Their kids? Their future? Was it time to divide up the books, the furniture, and their sports equipment? And decide who got the couch?

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure. Where do you think we should be going? What’s happening with you?” She wanted to sound stronger, but her heart was pounding so hard she could almost hear it and was sure he could too.

  He sighed when he looked at her, and almost visibly deflated, like a balloon with a hole in it. He wasn’t the man she remembered, confident, cocky, strong, hers. She noticed that he’d lost weight over the summer, and he noticed the same about her. She looked fit, and her tan was golden brown. He hadn’t dared tell her she looked great when he saw her.

  “I think I went a little crazy two months ago. Some kind of midlife crisis or something. Maybe I was afraid of getting old. I can’t make excuses for what I did. And I don’t know if you can forgive me. It might have just screwed us forever. I hope it hasn’t, but I wouldn’t blame you.” She had never heard him sound so humble and contrite.

  “Interesting choice of words,” she said tartly, and he looked embarrassed, as he should have.

  “Whatever. You know what I mean. Do you want a divorce?”

  “Want one? No. Need one? Maybe. I’m just not sure I can get past it. I want to, but I can’t get it out of my head. I can hardly walk into our bedroom without feeling sick. You broke my heart,” she said as tears filled her eyes, and she struggled to hold them back.

  “I’m so sorry, Caro. I don’t know what
happened. I went nuts. That’s all I can say. I feel terrible. I didn’t want to hurt you. I wish I could erase it for both of us.”

  “And now?”

  “It’s over. I ended it. She quit. She went back to New York a few weeks ago. She’s young, she’ll get over it. I spent a lot of time this summer trying to figure out why it happened. It was like a drug.”

  “And the next one, just like her, if you go nuts again?”

  “There won’t be a next one. I love you.” He had finally said it. She wondered if he would. She didn’t say it back, because she was no longer sure if she still loved him. That was the problem. Her feelings for him had been frozen since June, and nothing she thought or said or tried to remember seemed to defrost them. After the initial agony, she had been numb and confused ever since. “I love our life, our kids. I don’t want to do this to them or to you.”

  “You should have thought of that two months ago.”

  “I should have, but I didn’t. I was a massive fool. It’s like I thought I was single for a minute, in a way I never had been. I never did things like that before we got married. It’s all different now. It’s cellphones and selfies and texting and fast sex from dating sites. Instead of ordering pizzas, they order people. It’s a giant supermarket of bodies, fast lays like fast food and no feelings. I don’t know how they cope with it. It made me crazy, and it scares me to death for Morgan, out there in a few years. I don’t know how any of them handle it. OkCupid, and Tinder, and Twitter. I’ll lose my mind if that’s what I have to do now. I don’t want a divorce. I want to come home, if you’ll have me.”

  She didn’t answer him for a long time, as she looked at him and thought about it, and tried to figure out what she wanted. She wanted to turn the clock back to before June, and she knew that couldn’t happen. She didn’t want what they were left with either. Anger and bitterness, and a broken heart over what he’d done to their marriage, and indirectly their kids if they were going to be the children of divorce now. She would have never cheated on him, or done what he did, or lost her mind over a twenty-three-year-old. Why did he get to do that, act like a maniac and then come home to her like nothing happened? It had happened, right in their own bedroom. And she couldn’t forget anything about it.

  “I’m not ready for you to come home,” she said sadly, knowing that leaving him out there meant that he might find another Veronica and do the same things with her, while Caroline sat in her ivory tower and mulled it over. But the idea of sleeping in the same bed with him again made her feel slightly sick, and if he touched her, she would have killed him. Not after the pictures she’d seen, that were engraved on her memory forever. Maybe that was her answer. The word “forever.” She didn’t think she could get past it. “I wish I felt differently. I just can’t get any of it out of my mind.” She didn’t go down the list. He knew what she was upset about.

  “I’d probably feel the same way you do,” he said. “But I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know what it would take for you to forgive me, but I’ll do whatever you want.” She nodded. It was better than his asking for a divorce, but it didn’t change what had happened. Nothing would.

  “I just want to forget what happened, but that’s all I think about every time I think about you.” He looked as though she had slapped him. She had always been so gentle and forgiving, but this time she wasn’t. She couldn’t run away from this the way she had from his comments about her being a redneck because of where she grew up, and her father being a cowboy, or the dismissive comments he made about her books in the early years of their marriage. He had gotten past that. This was different. He had stabbed her in the heart of her marriage, everything she held dear and respected about him and their marriage and loved about him. Now all that was gone, or dead, or seemed to be. Where did one go from there? “I need to think about it. I’ve been thinking about it all summer, and all I know is I’m not ready for you to come home. I don’t know if I ever will be, but I’m definitely not there yet.” He nodded, there was nothing he could say to her honesty and to erase what he’d done. He couldn’t rewind the film and edit it to make it different. High tech did not apply to real life. You were stuck with what was on the film forever. She wasn’t sure if memories like that ever faded. So far they hadn’t for her, even if Veronica was gone now. There would always be another girl like her around the next corner. She didn’t think she could ever trust him again.

  “I understand,” he said, trying not to cry, and she almost felt sorry for him, but not really. He had done it to himself, and to her. “I’ll extend the apartment till the end of the year.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” although she wanted to make a decision before that. She didn’t want to be in limbo forever either. She wondered if they should sell their house, whatever they decided to do. It was tainted forever now. Veronica would always be in the room with them, and in their bed. And as she realized it, she had an idea, but didn’t say anything to him. It wasn’t up to him. At least not for now. He didn’t live there anymore.

  “What are you going to tell the kids? You’ve been terrific with them,” he said gratefully.

  “That we need more time, and we haven’t worked things out yet. It’s the truth.” He nodded, and he could tell from seeing them on the weekend that she hadn’t told them anything about what he’d done. It meant the world to him. Other women would have, but Caroline was too decent to, no matter what he’d done or how badly he had hurt her, she hadn’t told their kids. “They’ve seen their friends go through it, although most of the time, as Billy says, after a break like this, their friends’ parents get divorced. But at least if we do, we’ll be sure.” She wondered if one was ever sure. There were always the things you loved about a person, and the things you hated and couldn’t live with, and in this case, couldn’t forgive. That was the crux of it. Could she forgive him or not? She didn’t know. She didn’t think so, but she wasn’t sure.

  “Could we go out to dinner sometime, or have lunch?” he asked her hopefully. She didn’t answer, but her eyes said no. He realized as he looked at her now how far away from him she’d gone. He wished that he’d called her more often over the summer instead of only a few times. He had wanted to but thought she needed space. Maybe she didn’t. And ending it with Veronica had been messy. He’d had a rotten summer, and missed Caroline and the kids fiercely.

  He asked for the check then, and while they waited for it, he asked her about the ranch. “What are you doing about that? Are you asking Kate to buy out your share? You never go and you hate it there. It doesn’t make much sense. And there are better investments to make than a ten-thousand-acre ranch in the Santa Ynez Valley, although the land is valuable.” She didn’t tell him that Thad had just bought Gemma’s share. It was none of his business.

  “It’s better without my father. That was always the problem for me. It was nice being with my sisters this summer, and it was good for the kids. They loved it, and so did I.” They had told him as much when he saw them. And he was surprised to hear she’d loved it too. He hadn’t gone to see his parents in Maine at the end of August, as they always did. He didn’t want them to know they were having trouble.

  He paid the check then, and they left the restaurant together. “Thank you for lunch,” she said politely, but she looked less nervous than she had when she arrived. In spite of everything, it was nice to see him.

  “Thank you for talking to me,” he said with a small wintry smile. He wasn’t sure if it was the beginning or the end, and neither was she. He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek, and she smiled. “I’ll email you a schedule that works for me to see the kids, let me know how it works for you. I’d like to try to keep this informal for now.” She nodded. She agreed. Her car was in the opposite direction from his office, so they left each other outside the restaurant.

  He had his head down as he walked away. It hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped, and hadn’t been as b
ad as she’d feared. She had wanted to be more decisive and ask for a divorce, but she realized at lunch that she wasn’t ready to do it. Once she was across the table from him and she looked him in the eyes, he wasn’t as easy to walk away from as she thought he would be. The good memories were still in her mind too with the bad ones. They had a lot invested in their marriage, and it was hard to throw the good away with the bad. As she hurried toward her car, she remembered the idea that she’d had at lunch, and was determined to start on it as soon as she got home.

  She drove to Marin as fast as she could within the speed limit and with the traffic. She didn’t want to be late for Billy’s carpool, and he had soccer practice in San Rafael that afternoon. She was left with what she’d had in their marriage, all the chores and errands and responsibilities. The only difference now was that he wouldn’t come home at night. She didn’t have to cook dinner for him, talk to him, or care about his problems. She didn’t have to have sex with him, and clearly she must have bored him, if he wanted the kind of stuff she had seen in the photographs of Veronica. She was thirty-nine, almost forty, not twenty-three, and her ass was never going to look like Veronica’s again no matter how many Pilates classes she went to or even if she had an ass and boob lift like the people Gemma knew in Hollywood.

  She had a new book to work on now that she had started at the ranch that summer. She had her kids to take care of, and a life to live alone, to try it on for size. It wasn’t entirely a bad thing, it was different, and some things would still be the same. But it would be a life without Peter. She needed to clear out some of the past. After she got back to the house after dropping Billy off at soccer, she made the first call. Another mother would be driving him home. She called a secondhand furniture store and arranged to have them pick up all the furniture in their bedroom. They had spent a fortune on it, but she didn’t care. It was part of the ugliness he had left her with, and she didn’t want it anymore. She was getting rid of all of it. She was going to fill the room with beautiful new things. It was her bedroom now, not theirs. Maybe after she did, she would feel new too.