“Ashley, you have to calm down,” Marshall begged her. He wanted things to be better with her again, even more so than with Liz. Liz was his duty. Ashley was his dream. “You have to trust me. I swear to you, everything will be fine in a year. You’ll have everything you want. But if I walk out on Liz now, my kids will never forgive me. Just let me get Lindsay through high school, and all your dreams will come true.” But he knew she no longer believed him, and that everything Bonnie said to her when he wasn’t around just made it worse. They were hardly making love. He could barely think straight anymore. All he wanted was for everything to be the way it had been for the past eight years. Ashley wanted more. She wanted everything, and a full life with him.
When he got back to Lake Tahoe on Friday, Lindsay had had a fight with her mother, and they weren’t talking to each other. He poured himself a stiff drink and went out to sit on the dock, and a lone tear slid down his cheek. His life was a mess, and there was nothing he could do about it, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to rock Liz’s world any more than it already had been. Megan Wheeler’s claims had turned Liz’s life upside down, worse after it was resolved than when it was happening, or so it seemed. And his admission of guilt to Ashley, even minimally for the sake of honesty with her, hadn’t served him well. He was sorry he had told her what he did. He needed both of them to calm down so they could regain some kind of normalcy. And in a year, when Lindsay graduated, he could see where things were with Liz. But whichever way he turned, he knew he would destroy someone’s life, or his own. That was the last thing he wanted. All he needed from both of them was peace, and their support, not their demands. He felt as though he had two boa constrictors around his neck, and they were squeezing him as hard as they could. It even made him nervous now when he went to L.A. Instead of being welcomed with open arms and jumping into bed with him, he had no idea what condition Ashley would be in, what she would accuse him of this time, and her demands had been strident ever since she’d seen him on TV with Liz.
He sat staring out at the lake, with his drink in his hand, thinking about all of it, wondering what to do. Everything seemed discordant in his life, and all it did was make him want to run away, from both of them. Ashley talked to him about his responsibility to her and the twins, which he knew came straight from Bonnie, who spent more time with her than he did, and had ample opportunity to poison her against him. And Liz was talking about spending more time together and even coming to L.A. with him in the fall if she could find someone to stay with Lindsay, which panicked him. He felt as though his whole world, and the women in it, were closing in on him. As he thought about it, he finished his drink, and dove into the icy water. Feeling his body tingle with the shock of it felt good to him. He swam out to the raft and then back to the dock and got out. And when he got back to the house, Liz and Lindsay were fighting again and both of them were in tears. It was more than he could deal with, and without saying a word to either of them, he walked past them and upstairs to his bedroom. He closed the door, and lay on the bed with his eyes closed, trying not to think about it. And as he lay there, he heard a text message come in. It was from Ashley. She knew she wasn’t supposed to do that, but sometimes she did anyway. And lately she had been taking more and more chances, as a way of pushing him. He glanced at the text message and all it said was “I love you. We miss you.” He erased it and closed his eyes again, and tried to go to sleep. But all he could think of was Ashley and the twins, and how good it felt to be in bed with her. He was going to L.A. on Tuesday, and all he could hope was that this would be a better week. And maybe by the end of summer they would all calm down again and get off his back. All he wanted now was peace.
Chapter 14
Fiona found the bar easily on Friday at six o’clock. It was exactly as Logan had described: kind of a dive, full of students from Stanford, and a few people who had stopped by after work for happy hour and a beer on the way home. It was dark inside when she walked in, and she saw him at a table in a back corner and smiled to herself. It wasn’t the kind of place she went to usually, but it made her feel young and carefree, and not like a responsible CEO. She was wearing the trousers of her pantsuit, and had rolled up the sleeves of her silk shirt. And she had changed into flat shoes she had in her trunk, and just so as not to look like someone’s mother among all the students, she let her hair out of the severe bun she normally wore to work, and her blond hair was cascading loosely to her shoulders. It was the best she could do to look more casual, given what she wore to work, and it felt better as she walked over to the table and Logan looked up from his newspaper with a grin.
“You found it.” He looked happy to see her, and he was wearing a blue shirt and jeans, and his sleeves were rolled up too.
“No problem. How are you?” she asked as she slid into her seat. And although she hadn’t planned it, or even been open to it at first, she felt as though they were becoming friends. It was exactly what her sister said she needed in her life, more people, less structure, to balance her enormous responsibilities. And as usual, Jillian was right. Fiona was beginning to like Logan and thought he would be a good friend, if he didn’t press her for insider information about NTA, which remained to be seen. He had said he wouldn’t, and she was going to hold him to his word, otherwise they couldn’t be friends.
“I’m fine. Happy it’s Friday,” he said with a grin of relief. “How was your day?” It was refreshing and new for her to have someone ask. He actually looked interested when he asked her, and she hoped it wasn’t a ploy to get her to talk about work, but she decided to be honest with him, as far as she could, like two ordinary friends meeting at a bar. This was new to her. Her social engagements were more formal, either dinner parties with old friends, which she rarely went to anymore since she wasn’t a couple and was tired on the weekends, or evenings that were related to business, which were necessary but not much fun. This was very different.
“Actually, my day was a bitch,” she answered him honestly. “I’m glad it’s Friday. I need a couple of days off. How was yours?”
“Interesting. I just interviewed a fascinating young entrepreneur. Harvey Eckles. He’s made a billion dollars on the Internet, and he’s twenty-three years old. He looks like he couldn’t find his way out of a men’s room with a flashlight. But he’s a genius, and talking to him was like meeting Einstein. I didn’t understand a thing he said, which is why he made that kind of money and I didn’t. But it was fun.” He was smiling at Fiona and looked relaxed.
“What you do must be really fascinating. I had an internship at a newspaper when I was in college, but I discovered that I can’t write anything interesting to save my life, just business reports. I got a C-minus in creative writing, which was the worst grade I ever got.”
“I got a D in Journalism 101, which is why I decided to do that for a living. It’s worked out really well for me. You probably had too much talent,” he said, and they both laughed as the waitress came over and took their order. Logan ordered a cheeseburger with everything on it, while Fiona ordered a plain burger and fries. He ordered a Heineken, and she a Diet Coke. “So what do you do on the weekends for fun, Fiona?” He seemed interested.
“Work,” she said, and they both laughed again. “Unfortunately, that’s true. I take work home on weekends, otherwise I can’t keep up. I have so many interruptions in the office, and scheduled meetings, it doesn’t leave me much time to fill in the gaps. And I hang out with my kids, when they’re home, which isn’t often anymore. So I fill the void with work,” she admitted, and he was watching her eyes as she talked. He saw a sadness there about her children and how much she missed them. And he didn’t think she had a man in her life, or she wouldn’t have had dinner with him, or filled her weekends with work. Those were the activities of a woman who had nothing else to do. He knew the symptoms well, and worked a lot on weekends too. And he had no children to fill holidays and vacations, just friends, which was enough for him.
“How did you manage to
bring up kids and have a career like yours?” A lot of women he knew didn’t, and wound up with screwed-up kids who resented them, or they regretted never having them at all. And from what she said, he got the feeling her kids were okay and he could tell that they were close and she enjoyed them.
“I’m a good juggler,” she said confidently. “I returned calls when I took Alyssa to ballet, and I managed to get to almost all of Mark’s soccer games, with my BlackBerry of course. And I worked at night when everyone went to bed. I didn’t get a lot of sleep.”
“Margaret Thatcher slept three hours a night,” he informed her, “and she ran a country. I think people who don’t need a lot of sleep have it made. They conquer the world while the rest of us are snoring for eight hours. I fall apart if I don’t get seven hours myself, which is why I’ll never be more than a lowly reporter, while you run one of the biggest corporations in the country.”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling as she shrugged off the compliment, “but there are other things I can’t do. A lot of them in fact. I’m terrible at sports, except for tennis, which my sister made me play all my life and still does, and she’s a fantastic player. I’m a lousy cook, according to my children. My son cooks better than I do. And according to my ex-husband, I was a terrible wife, and flunked seventeen years of it, so I guess you can’t do everything. The woman he married after me makes her own Christmas decorations and is a fabulous cook and never worked. So I guess I got that one wrong from the beginning, but we have wonderful kids.” She looked happy as she said it, and at peace.
“I’ll be sure to call your successor when I decorate my tree. I’m not sure making your own Christmas decorations makes someone a good wife, Fiona. Who did he marry? Martha Stewart?” She laughed out loud and then looked serious for a minute.
“No, just a woman who hates the business world as much as he does. I think they have fun together. We never did. I was too busy trying to be the perfect wife and mother, and trying to do a good job at whatever company I worked for. It was pretty intense.” And so were the arguments and the unhappy years, but she didn’t say that to him.
“It doesn’t sound like a match made in heaven to me. Like my wife. She would have buried me in Salt Lake, working at her father’s printing business and having a baby every year. We make some pretty stupid choices when we’re young. Some of us make stupid choices when we’re older too. I lived with a woman for about four years, ten years ago. It was kind of a loose arrangement, looser than I thought I signed on for. I found out she was sleeping with at least three of my friends. She thought monogamy was ‘unnatural’ for humans. I still had a few illusions about that, which is admittedly limited of me. She’s actually still living with my best friend. They have two kids but never married. And it seems to work for them. We all have our own crazy ideas about what makes relationships work. The trick seems to be finding someone with similar ideas, or compatible ones at least. I’ve never managed to pull that off. And like you, I work too hard. My last girlfriend said I was a workaholic, and she’s right. And in my case, I travel too much, covering stories. I was in South Africa for six months when I worked on the Mandela pieces, and I wish I had stayed longer. I loved it. And I travel for stories whenever I get the chance. It keeps life exciting.”
“I only travel for work,” Fiona said with a look of regret. “The kids always want me to go to exotic places with them, and I never have time, or it seems too complicated, or I’m tired. I keep promising to take them to Japan, and I haven’t yet. Maybe one of these days.” But she didn’t look as though it was going to happen anytime soon. “My sister is much better about that. She’s in Tuscany this summer, visiting friends.”
“Yeah, and from what you said, she doesn’t run a major corporation, or have kids. That makes a difference. I don’t know how you juggle what you do. And I’ll bet you weren’t a ‘terrible wife,’ no matter what your ex says. I have more faith in you than that.” He could already sense that she was a perfectionist about everything she did, and tried her best, or she wouldn’t have had the job she did, and healthy kids.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But he may be right. He’s still pissed off about it, even now that he’s married to ‘Martha Stewart.’ ” She had a feeling the name was going to stick now that he’d come up with it.
“That’s pretty pathetic if he’s still carrying a grudge, after how long?”
“Six years.”
“And what about you? Anyone important in your life since?” He acted like a reporter even when he was out for dinner, and he wanted to know everything about her. She liked finding out about him too, and he was forthcoming about himself. He didn’t seem like a man who had secrets, and he appeared to have good insights into himself. He wasn’t unaware and knew who he was and how he related to other people.
“No,” she answered his question honestly. “A lot of blind dates at first, set up by friends who felt sorry for me when David and I broke up. And they were unbelievably bad. Most men run screaming from the room when they find out you run a company and figure you’re a bitch. The ones who stick around are deaf, dumb, or blind, or all three, or recently out of prison. Besides, I really don’t have time. My life works the way it is.”
“And how is it?” he asked with interest. He wondered how she perceived it. He saw her as a fabulous woman going to waste if she didn’t have a man in her life at her age. He thought some lucky guy was missing out big-time if he hadn’t realized how remarkable Fiona was, and her ex-husband sounded like a loser to him.
“My life is peaceful, busy, and sane. That works for me,” she said, and looked as though she meant it. “No one is accusing me of what I did wrong, hating me for my career, or telling me how bad I am. I don’t think you can have a relationship, or a marriage, and a career like mine. I tried and it doesn’t work. No man, or damn few, can put up with a woman who has a bigger career than he does, or even one just as big, and worse yet if she makes more money. My ex-husband punished me for it for seventeen years. I have no desire to sign on for that. It was miserable, although I tried to pretend it wasn’t. But it was. Why would I want to do that again?”
“Not all men are as stupid as your ex-husband,” he said bluntly, “or have such fragile egos. A man who’s comfortable with himself ought to be able to respect you for your career, without punishing you for it. And if you got in a new relationship, what would you have to lose?” He made it sound theoretical, and she hoped he wasn’t volunteering. She didn’t want to get involved with him or anyone else. She really was happy as she was, despite her sister urging her to date again. It worked for Jillian, not for her.
“If I get involved again, I could lose my heart, my sanity, and my time. I’d kind of like to hang on to all three. And my self-esteem. I felt terrible about myself when my marriage failed. I don’t want to feel like that again. It’s taken six years for me to feel good about myself. I don’t want to give that up for anyone. Why should I? I think with a career like mine, as a woman, relationships just don’t work. A man who’s successful in business is a hero. For a woman, it’s entirely different. You become immediately suspect, and besides, it’s not sexy being the CEO of a company. People act like you’re a man in disguise.”
“If that’s a disguise,” Logan said, grinning at her, and looking at her long blond hair, which made her look much younger when she wore it down, “it’s not working for you. You still look like a girl to me.” But he also dealt with people like her every day. He had interviewed hundreds of successful, important women, and he was neither fooled by the outer trappings that went with it, nor impressed by them. What he cared about was the person, male or female, not the title on the door, or how important they thought they were. And he liked Fiona as a human being, which counted for a lot for him. He was sure she would be a good friend if they had the opportunity to spend time together. And he thought she was shortchanging herself out of more. “I really don’t agree with you, Fiona. Just like you thought you could have a family and a career, I thin
k one can have a relationship and a big career too. I haven’t found the right person, and I haven’t really been looking, but I know she’s out there. And you didn’t give up being a woman the day you became a CEO. I don’t think it’s a choice you have to make.”
“I don’t have the time to find the right one,” she said honestly, “and I really don’t want to. I don’t want all the headaches that go with it. At forty-nine, I feel too old.”
“That’s bullshit. What if you live to be ninety? Do you really want to spend the next forty years alone? That seems kind of sad to me.” But the seventeen miserable years of her marriage to David seemed a lot sadder to her, and she didn’t want to risk that again. She had never been as happy in her life as in the last six years.
“Maybe some people aren’t meant to live in pairs. I think I’m one of them.”
“You’ve just got war wounds. If you want to, you’ll find the right guy one of these days.”
“I don’t want to,” she said firmly. “Trust me, no one is lining up to date female CEOs. It’s an occupational hazard. Our male counterparts seem to have all the fun, while all we do is work.” Just like in real life, in her experience.
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