by J. J. Bella
Dark thoughts filled her mind, thoughts of walking out the door and never coming back. Going along with this charade now struck her as disgusting, and she wanted no part of it. And part of her fantasized about leaving, sending a clear message to Peter about how angry she was with him. It was only Winnie that prevented her from considering this further; she had grown to really care for the girl, and leaving her without saying a word was unthinkable to her.
Molly went up to her bedroom, disrobed, and got into bed. She fell into a restless sleep, waking up in the middle of the night. Tossing and turning for a bit, she decided that she likely wasn’t going to fall back asleep; her mind was simply racing too much with frustration. She was determined to leave Peter behind, however, but she would do it properly, with a two week's notice and a job lined up. She headed into the study, where she had been off-and-on going over her portfolio. Spending the next few hours finishing it up, she scanned her designs and uploaded them onto the computer. Another hour or so later, she had a polished profile and an up-to-date resume. Her next step was to send emails to just about every design studio she could find, figuring a hip job could wait, and that anything would do for now.
As she typed up the emails and sent them out, Molly felt tears run down her cheeks. A horrible miasma of emotions swirled in her stomach, and all she could think about was the idea that if Peter truly wasn’t going to have feelings for her, that she needed to get out before she was hurt even worse, and the thought of spending the rest of the summer with Peter, with him pretending their tryst never happened, was something her heart couldn’t bear. She had fallen for her boss, and she was paying the price.
Molly clicked “send” on the last email, then placed her head in her arms, letting the sobs that she’d been holding back all night flow without restraint.
13
When she’d cried all the tears she had in her, Molly looked to see that the sun was beginning to stream in through the open windows of the office. Seeing that it would soon be time to get Winnie ready to go, she headed downstairs and made a pot of coffee. When it was done, she went out onto the back deck and watched the sunrise, letting the fresh morning air and the strong, black coffee work in tandem to drive the sadness that was plainly visible on her face. Once her coffee was drained, she felt composed enough to go back inside and start her day.
The first half of the day flew by quickly, with her running Winnie here and there. Molly found herself checking her email on her phone constantly, hoping against hope that one of the agencies where she’d applied had already gotten back to her. But so far, nothing.
Evening soon came, and Winnie and Molly headed back home, Claude met them out front of the house, Peter having called him earlier to have him sit for them once again. After saying their hellos, Winnie and Claude were quickly off, Winnie eager to show Claude some new toys that had just arrived that day.
Molly went upstairs to the dressing room, going through outfits and trying to decide on what to wear. She settled on a pair of black slacks and a white-and-blue-striped blouse, tying her hair up into a simple ponytail and only bothering with a little makeup. She wasn’t exactly in the mood to go all-out on her appearance.
“You look nice,” said Peter, adjusting the knot of his silk, black tie in front of one of the living room mirrors.
“Thanks,” said Molly, not taking her eyes up from her phone that she was once again checking.
“You about ready?” he asked, stepping back from the mirror.
“Yep,” said Molly, her voice flat.
That Peter didn’t even seem to notice that she was upset made Molly feel even worse. And she didn’t want to consider the possibility that he had noticed how upset she was, but was simply not bothering to acknowledge it.
And the most difficult aspect of all was that she still wanted him. She wanted him desperately. As upset as he’d made her, as sure she was that she wanted to get out of this whole bizarre arrangement, all he would have to do is to tell her that he actually did care about her, and all would be forgiven. But though Molly had only known Peter for a short time, she knew that he wasn’t exactly the sort to be open with his feelings.
They left, Peter driving them to a ritzy, exclusive neighborhood in Sausalito, over the Golden Gate Bridge Molly’s jaw dropped when she saw the size of the estate; though Peter’s place was huge, the investor’s home was a palace. A large, ornate gate opened and allowed them onto the grounds, Peter parking the car in a small lot among expensive-looking antique cars.
“Quite a place,” said Molly.
Peter nodded, looking up at the palatial estate. “Mr. Stanley is an extremely wealthy man; one of the richest in the world. This home is just one of many, and probably his most humble.”
Molly tried to imagine what the other homes of a man who considered a place like this “humble” might look like, and came up short.
As they approached the home, the massive double-doors of rich, brown wood opened, and a middle-aged couple stepped out. As Peter and Molly drew closer, she could see that the man was a handsome and trim fifty-something man dressed in comfortable-looking slacks and a bright white dress shirt the top buttons undone. The woman at his side was beautiful, with dark, full hair, a wide, open smile, and wearing an expensive-looking outfit of a shirt and blouse- she also looked to be Mr. Stanley’s junior by at least twenty years.
“Welcome,” said Mr. Stanley in a smooth, warm voice, extending his hand to Peter.
“A pleasure to see you, Mr. Stanley,” said Peter, shaking Mr. Stanley’s hand before giving Mrs. Stanley a kiss on the cheek.
“Please, Peter, you know ‘Richard’ is fine,” he said, turning his attention to Molly. “Ah, so this is the young woman I’ve been hearing so much about.”
“Hi,” said Molly, her voice low and demure.
“Richard Stanley,” he said, taking Molly’s hand. “And just like I told Peter, none of this ‘Mr. Stanley’ nonsense.”
He gestured to the woman at his side.
“And this is my wife, Tanya.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” she said, shaking Molly’s hand, her eyes going to Molly’s ring. “That is a beautiful ring.”
She flashed her own, a massive, gaudy rock that seemed to Molly to signify “money” more than “taste.”
“Nice, no?” she said. “It’s so nice that there are men like Richard and Peter who know how to take care of their women.”
“Ha, yeah,” said Molly, not entirely on board with her materialism.
“Please, come in,” said Richard, leading them inside.
The home was just as breathtaking inside as it appeared to be from the exterior. The living room was a tapestry of marble, gold, and ornate columns, a double staircase leading to the second and third floors. Molly’s jaw hung wide open as she looked around, squinting her eyes to see an elaborate design in Renaissance-style painted on the ceiling.
Impressive, thought Molly. But about as tacky as it gets.
Richard led them to a sitting room. Once the group was seated, a maid arrived, taking their drink orders. The four of them sat idly chatting for an hour or so as they sipped their drinks, Richard and Tanya overflowing with questions about the couple, wondering how they met, and Molly was happy that she had Peter’s false story to fall back on.
After a time, another maid arrived to let the group know that dinner was ready. Richard then led the group into the dining room, where they sat at an elegantly appointed table. The dinner began with delicious salads before moving into the main course of locally sourced steak and a bottle of wine that Molly decided was just about the most amazing she’d ever had- perhaps aside from the one Peter picked out for them their first dinner together, that is.
Richard kept the conversation light through dinner, and as they finished, the empty plates were replaced with fruit parfaits, the topic of Peter’s investment was broached.
“Ah,” said Richard. “I was doing so well, not talking about business at the table.”
; “I’m stuffed,” said Molly, barely able to fit two spoonfuls of her dessert. “I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air if you two want to talk about work.”
“Ah, a walk sounds lovely,” said Tanya, pushing away her parfait. “Let’s us girls go for a stroll, and leave the men to their boring chit-chat.”
“That’s fine with us if it’s fine with you both,” said Richard.
“Sounds great,” said Molly.
“Well then, shall we retire to the study for some brandy?” asked Richard, rising from the table.
“Certainly,” said Peter.
The men were off, and Tanya led Molly out onto the back patio, Molly having to steady herself, from the many drinks she’d had. The patio was an elegant, ancien regime-style terrace that overlooked their immaculately maintained, several-acres backyard, the San Francisco Bay just beyond.
“What a lovely night,” said Tanya, her voice dreamy from the many glasses of wine that she’d imbibed over the course of the evening.
“It is,” said Molly. “You have a lovely home.”
“Why, thank you,” said Tanya. “It was just recently finished. I consider myself something of an interior design connoisseur, and Richard was kind enough to just let me go wild with whatever I wanted.”
“Ah, I see,” said Molly, not surprised that the gaudy and ostentatious design of the interior was a reflection of Tanya’s tastes.
The strolled along the property, an evening breeze picking up and feeling heavenly on Molly’s skin.
“You know,” said Tanya. “It’s been years since Peter has committed to any one girl for any period of time. Richard and I were so happy to see him finally settle down. Richard says it’s unseemly for a man over thirty to not be settled own, and I agree.”
“Yeah,” said Molly. “We’re really happy together.”
“I mean, Peter went through a phase where it was just one girl after another. A model here, an actress there, an heiress thrown in for variety.”
Molly said nothing, the thought of Peter with other women sticking in her stomach in a way that she wasn’t expecting.
“But that’s all over with now that you’re in the picture. I swear, I wasn’t sure Peter was ever going to settle down after Amanda died so suddenly.”
“What?” spat Molly, shocked to hear this news.
But as soon as she said the word, she realized that the alcohol had made her loose-lipped.
“What do you mean, ‘what’?” asked Tanya, confused. “Amanda, his wife?”
“Oh, yeah, that Amanda,” said Molly, her face growing hot.
“Wait a minute, did you not know who Amanda was? How could you not know the name of his ex-wife?” asked Tonya, her tone suddenly interrogating. “What did he tell you about her?”
“No, I mean,” said Molly, stuttering. “He did tell me, but I just, um.”
The booze had gone to Molly’s head, and her attempts at thinking on her feet were resulting in her tripping over them.
“I’m going to ask you something, and I would like a straight answer,” said Tanya, stopping and facing Molly, her hands on her hips. “Is everything that you’ve told Richard and I about your relationship with Peter correct?”
Molly wanted to lie; she knew she should’ve lied. But between being on the spot, the booze, and her underlying desire to not be going along with the charade, she cracked.
The words coming out of her mouth in a messy blurt, Molly fessed up, and told Tanya everything.
“I see,” said Tanya, looking away. “I believe we should be getting back to the house.”
With that, she turned and walked at a brisk pace back to the mansion, Molly struggling to keep up as the gravity of what she had just done sank in.
The rest of the walk was in silence, and when they entered, Tanya made a beeline to the study, where Peter and Richard were seated overstuffed leather chairs and in the middle of lively conversation.
“Honey?” said Tanya, glancing at Molly while she kneeled down to whisper something into Richard’s ear.
“I see,” said Richard, his expression turning from lively and happy to grim.
Molly closed her eyes, waiting for the shoe to drop.
14
“Peter, I think you and Molly -if that’s even your real name- need to leave,” said Richard, rising from his seat.
“Wait, what?” asked Peter, standing up and setting down his drink.
“Tanya told me everything,” he said. “I can’t believe you ‘d stoop to lying about your engagement in order to secure my investment money.”
“I...didn’t know what else to do,” said Peter.
“You could’ve found a woman and married her, how about that?” asked Richard. “And not just for my money, but for your own damn happiness. You can’t waste the best years of your life in a funk because of your wife’s passing, Peter!”
Peter shook his head in defeat.
“I understand that Amanda’s death was sudden and tragic, but this is simply unacceptable,” he said, his tone severe. “I may be able to look past this in time, Peter, but for now, this…business dealing is simply out of the question.”
A moment passed.
“Now, please see yourself out.”
“But-“ said Peter, beginning to speak, but thinking better of it, stopping himself after that single word.
Then he stormed out of the room. Molly’s eyes fell upon Richard and Tanya, their faces holding stern expressions that indicated clearly that she was no longer welcome.
Molly ran after Peter, who she found out front. Walked through the front door, her stomach tightened in anticipation of his anger.
“What did you tell her? And why?” he demanded, turning to Molly, his expression calm, but his eyes blazing with anger.
“I…I didn’t know your wife had died!” said Molly, her words coming out in a clumsy blurt. “Tanya mentioned that your ex-wife died, and I didn’t know what to say!”
Peter shook his head and looked away, the endless lawn stretching out before him. Molly wondered if he was realizing that keeping her in the dark about such an important detail was a mistake. Peter said nothing, his back turned towards Molly.
“And, on top of everything, I’m…starting to have feelings for you!” exclaimed Molly, forcing the words past her lips.
But Peter’s back was still turned towards her.
“I couldn’t keep this going any longer, feeling the way I do for you but only being able to pretend that I love you! But this whole time I didn’t know the reason why you are the way you are, that because of your wife, you couldn’t love again.”
Still, not a word.
After a time, Peter finally turned back towards Molly. Just as before, his expression was calm and impassive. But unlike a moment ago, the fire in his eyes had been squelched, and Molly realized that the reason he turned his back to her wasn’t to listen to her, or even to ignore her, but to simply gain a handle on his emotions, to not indulge in the anger that he was feeling.
Molly said nothing, waiting for him to say something, anything.
“If the truth has been revealed to the one person that I needed it to be hidden from, then there’s no reason to continue our arrangement. I expect you to move out tomorrow. You will, of course, be paid for the time you’ve worked so far.”
The words slid into Molly’s heart like ice-cold shards of glass. She stumbled backward, the backs of her feet hitting the steps leading to the front door. Her legs going weak beneath her, she sat down on the steps.
She was prepared for anger as a response to what she said, and she was prepared for rejection. But she wasn’t prepared for what Peter did, to have him simply brush her words away as though they meant nothing, and for him to end their arrangement in clear, dispassionate language, as though he were terminating a contract. Tears welled in her eyes and held there for the briefest of moments before pouring down her face.
Peter took a slow breath, his composure regained.
“It’s time to
leave,” he said. “Come; you can cry in the car if you need to.”
This was an indignity that Molly couldn’t take, to have her feelings be treated like a burden that she needed to get over and done with. At that moment, she never wanted to see Peter ever again.
“I’ll call a cab,” said Molly, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Suit yourself,” said Peter.
Then, without another word, he got into his car and drove off.
Molly called an Uber, and waited on the steps for it to arrive. When the black car finally arrived, parking on the other side of the massive gate, Molly crossed the lawn and got in. As soon as the car door shut, the tears began to flow once again, and didn’t stop until they arrived at the house.
Taking a deep breath, steeling herself against seeing Peter again, she entered the home. The living room was quiet, and there was no sign of anyone. Soon, Claude came down the stairs.
“Hey, girl,” he said. “How was the fancy dinner?”
Molly said nothing, simply turning to him with an expression of tear-stained sadness.
“Ah,” said Claude, understanding. “Does that mean it’s time to go home?”
Molly nodded.
“OK. I’m gonna go see Peter about my money, and you just go ahead and get your things.”
“Is Winnie in bed?” Molly managed to ask.
“Mhmm, just put her down.”
Molly collected her things from her room, and, suitcase in hand, creaked open the door to Winnie’s room. Sure enough, she was sleeping soundly, her golden hair wreathed around her face in loose tresses. Deciding to not wake her, Molly wished her a silent goodbye and shut the door softly.
“Let’s do this, lady,” said Claude, placing a hand on Molly’s shoulder.
With that, they left in Claude’s car, Molly’s eyes on the Randall home as it disappeared behind the city’s rolling hills.
15
A week passed, and at the end of it, Molly decided that she had wept all of the tears she was going to weep. And just around that time, she received an email from Henley White, one of the firms that she had applied to. It was a small- up-and-coming firm downtown, and the manager in charge of hiring told Molly in her response that someone like her is just the sort of fresh, new talent that they’re looking for, and he’d love to have her come for an interview. Molly determined this to be just the kick she needed to get back out into the world, and happily agreed.
