The Sins of the Mother

by Danielle Steel

  “I know them. My father is homophobic, and my mother has denial.” They were damning statements about his parents, and Olivia hoped he was wrong.

  “I can talk to them with you, if you want,” she offered again, as she had on the boat.

  “Thanks anyway, Grandma.”

  “You’ll do it when you’re ready.”

  “Yeah, like when I’m ninety.” He laughed, and she felt sad for him. He promised to call her soon, and then they hung up. She didn’t want to lose touch with him now. There was so much to worry about, about all of them.

  And she thought about Cass on her way home. Olivia realized that she could reach her by e-mail or on her BlackBerry, but she didn’t even know where her daughter was staying in New York, and she had forgotten to ask her. Probably downtown. There was so much she didn’t know about her, it nearly broke her heart. But at least they’d had a nice lunch. It was all they had for now.

  Olivia hated the feeling that she lost touch with all of them to some degree once they went their separate ways after the summer vacation. They each had their own lives, problems, and joys. And so did she. It was only when they came together for an extended time that it all intertwined and meshed, and when they left, the threads fell loose again, and she had no idea what they were doing. It was so much easier when they were all under one roof, like when they were small. But those days were over forever. Even her grandchildren had their own lives.

  Carole had left for California a few days before. She had called her grandmother to say goodbye. Sophie was in Boston and going to the Cape with friends until school started. And Olivia realized then that she hadn’t heard from Phillip since their big blowout the week before. She wondered when she would if at all. She hadn’t seen him at work either. She had been swamped since she got back. She hoped he was all right, despite his harsh words to her. Her mother had soothed those wounds. She was planning to see Peter that night. He was the bright spot in her life. She had much to tell him, and about her lunch with Cass. She wasn’t going to tell him about Alex—she had made a sacred vow. But at least she could share with him her concerns about the others, her victories and private griefs. Her life would have been much harder without him. It was what Phillip didn’t understand, and her mother did.

  Chapter 15

  Phillip had been in a terrible mood ever since his fight with his mother over Peter. He had talked to John about it again when he got home, and they got in a huge argument. So currently, he was at odds with his mother and his brother. He still felt the same way about it. John said he was crazy and owed their mother an apology. Phillip had no intention of apologizing to her, now or ever.

  And he had hardly seen his wife since their holiday on the boat. She had been swamped at her office, had three new clients, and was preparing for a trial. She had been in the office till all hours every night, and he had gone to dinner with suppliers who were in from out of town. He was hoping to catch up with Amanda that night.

  He poured himself a drink when he got home, and sat down on the couch to relax. He was thinking about his mother again and how angry he was with her. He was relieved he hadn’t had to see her in meetings all week. He wasn’t sure he could have sat through it, particularly if Peter was there.

  He hadn’t said anything about it to Amanda yet, because he hadn’t spent enough time with her. They were meeting like ships passing in the night. And he knew Amanda didn’t like his mother. He didn’t want to give her more ammunition for their next fight, when she would tell him he was his mother’s puppet and had no balls, or now, that his mother was the mistress of a married man. It was bad enough knowing it himself, and too humiliating sharing it with someone else, even his wife.

  He was going over papers from work when Amanda walked through the door. She threw down her briefcase, answered her cell phone, opened a bottle of white wine, and barely said hello. She had the glass in her hand when she finally did.

  “How was your day?” she asked him in a supercilious tone, as though his days were insignificant compared to hers, since he was only his mother’s slave, and she was a partner in a major law firm. It was all over her face and in her voice.

  “My day was fine,” he said in a neutral tone, not taking the bait. “How was yours?” There was no visible affection between them. They were like two business partners meeting up after a long week and comparing notes.

  “Pretty damned good actually,” she said with a sudden grin. “I got the appointment today.” She had been lobbying for it for more than two years. “You’re looking at the next federal judge on the bench!” she said victoriously, as he smiled, and got up to kiss her.

  “Congratulations!” He was happy for her. She had wanted it so badly, it had been all she could talk about for months.

  “Thank you. I’ll admit, it’s pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.” There was nothing humble about Amanda, but it was one of the things he had always liked about her. She was a strong woman and made no apology for it. “I think we’ll need to make some changes around here. I want to start doing some entertaining, of the right people, of course. I think we need to redo the living room, the house in the Hamptons needs work, I need a new wardrobe, and you need a bigger boat.” She had it all planned. She was not going to be some two-bit federal judge. She was going to make a big splash, and she wanted to become one of the most powerful women on the bench. She had fantasies about becoming an appellate judge one day. “And I think you need to make some very major donations to important charitable and political causes, Phillip.” She had his work cut out for him too.

  “Take it easy there, Your Honor,” he said as he set down his glass. “What you’re talking about takes a lot of money. Let’s not spend a fortune because you got appointed to the bench. Why not just enjoy it for a minute?” And he had no intention of buying a bigger boat. He loved the one he had.

  “This is only the beginning, Phillip. It’s going to be a long slow ride to the top.” Or a fast one, judging by what she was suggesting, he thought.

  “Well, I’m very proud of you. When is your induction?”

  “In six weeks. I want to give a fabulous party,” she said. She had a million plans, and all of them out of his wallet. She made a very decent income but never used it. He had a great deal more, and she had always felt he should pay all her bills. And Phillip was willing.

  “And what do you need a new wardrobe for, by the way? You’ll be wearing a black robe over it.” He was only half-teasing since it was true.

  “We’re going to be going out a lot more than we do now.” She was going to milk all the connections she had. And the Grayson name was pure gold. She wasn’t unaware of that. “I think you need to speak to your mother immediately. She should think about stepping aside. As a federal judge, it’s a lot more impressive if I’m married to a CEO, not a CFO. Maybe she’d give up the title, let you run the company, and just be chairman. You can at least ask her,” she said pointedly, as he looked at her, stunned. He’d heard it before, but he could see Amanda was deadly earnest.

  “I don’t think my mother is going to want to give up being CEO of her own company as a career move for you,” he said, hoping she was kidding, but he could see she wasn’t. “I think we’re a little over the top here.” She was out of control.

  “You can’t just be some kind of pencil pusher, Phillip, if you’re married to a federal judge.” She was drunk on her own importance, and Phillip was sobering up rapidly. Who was she? She was turning into a monster. Or had she always been as power hungry as this? He was no longer sure.

  “Is that how you see me? As a pencil pusher? A numbers guy, an accountant?” She had said the same thing to him on the boat. She was castrating him with her words.

  “That’s what you are, as a CFO,” she said bluntly.

  “I may just be a CFO, Amanda. But it’s one of the biggest privately held companies in the world. That counts for something.”

  “Privately held by your mother,” she said nastily, “like your balls, Ph
illip. It’s up to you to change that.”

  “And hand them to you?” he asked, as he strode to the door.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, looking angry.

  “Out. While I still have my balls, no thanks to you,” he said, and slammed the door behind him. He had no idea where he was going. He just wanted to get as far away from her as he could.

  Phillip walked for miles before he slowed down and came to his senses. He was so angry, he couldn’t even think at first. He was shocked to realize he had gotten all the way to Thirteenth Street before he felt sane again. He had covered almost four miles since he left their house. It was a warm, balmy night, and he kept walking and stopped at Washington Square and sat on a bench for a while, looking at the houses, and listening to the NYU students swirling around him. He got up and walked some more then. He had no desire to go home, but he was hungry and wanted something to eat. He walked over to Bleecker Street and stopped at a coffeehouse that had tables outside. They served sandwiches, burgers, and pizza, and he sat down at a table among students and artists, and the eddying crowd on the street. He felt old compared to most of them, but he didn’t care.

  He glanced at a girl at a table next to him, intently reading a book. She was drinking a cappuccino, and there was a half-eaten salad next to it. She kept her nose in the book. He noticed that she was pretty, with shining dark hair that hung to her shoulders and a clean-cut look. She had big brown eyes and an innocent face. There was a wholesome air about her, and then she looked up and smiled at him and went back to her reading. Phillip ordered a hamburger and a cup of coffee, and he devoured the burger when it came. He was starving after the long walk. The girl next to him looked up from her book again then, and smiled at him. She looked like a kid, and he suspected she probably went to NYU. Everyone around them did. They were on the edge of the campus. But she looked more put together than the students. He couldn’t resist saying something to her when she looked up.

  “Must be a good book,” he said with a shy grin. He didn’t want her to think he was hitting on her. He was just being friendly. Everyone around them seemed casual and relaxed.

  “It is.” She smiled even more broadly this time, and he could see how pretty she really was. She looked like an ad for something beautiful, young, and healthy. She was wearing white jeans and a T-shirt, with sandals, and her dark hair shone, it was so clean. She laughed then, and showed him what she was reading. “It’s a teacher’s guide, but it’s a pretty good one. I teach fourth grade.” She looked perfect for it. “I start my first job in two weeks. I got here from Wisconsin yesterday.” She was too good to be true. She looked like an angel fallen from the sky to him. Fresh out of school, an elementary school teacher, and right out of the Midwest the day before. It didn’t get purer than that. He hoped she wouldn’t be devoured by the big city. “I just found an apartment today,” she added, and he wanted to warn her not to talk to strangers. “I have four roommates. I found it on craigslist.” She was so innocent, she was like a poster child of some kind, and he wanted to adopt her immediately.

  “Did you check them out?” he asked cautiously, feeling instantly protective.

  “They’re all students,” she said, laughing. “My brother said the same thing. They don’t look like ax murderers to me. The apartment is really pretty, I have my own room the size of a broom closet, and it’s cheap.”

  “Your brother’s right,” Phillip warned her. “You should do a criminal check on them.” It made him suddenly grateful he didn’t have a daughter who looked like her. He was old enough to be her father, which was embarrassing. He probably seemed like a dirty old man to her, and he was disheveled after storming out of the apartment and walking at full speed for several hours to calm his rage, after what Amanda had said. It was no worse than anything else she’d ever said to him, but it had suddenly seemed worse to him.

  “I think they’re fine. They’re younger than I am, they’re all undergrads, and they’re all girls. How bad can nineteen-year-old girls be?”

  “Pretty bad, maybe,” he said suspiciously, but he was relieved to hear they were all girls. That sounded less dangerous to him. He didn’t know why, but he was suddenly concerned about this perfect stranger. But she seemed so innocent and sweet.

  The waitress refilled his cup of coffee, and the girl took a bite of her salad. Since they were talking, she had closed her book. “Where are you going to be teaching?” he asked suddenly.

  “I got assigned to a school in Harlem,” she said, smiling at him again. “I know, I know, it’s dangerous. But I’ll be fine. I did my student teaching at an inner-city school in Detroit, which was probably a lot tougher than this.” He stared at her in horror. She was an accident waiting to happen.

  “How could your parents let you come here?” he asked her, and she laughed.

  “My parents died when I was eight. I live with my married sister. She trusts me.”

  “New York is a tough city.”

  “So was Detroit. I was fine.”

  “You’re very brave,” he said, looking hard at her, wondering how old she was. Maybe she was older than she looked, or a black belt in karate. He hoped so for her sake. He wanted to add, “or very foolish,” but he didn’t. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight. I just finished my student teaching after my master’s. I’ve always wanted to live in New York. I wanted to be an actress, but I wound up teaching instead. I like it. I like the kids. I was in the Peace Corps for two years, in South America.” There was more to her than met the eye. She was just a very open person, and she was clearly very independent, and not afraid to try new things. “I was thinking about working in India for a year, but I came here instead. My sister was nervous about my going to New Delhi. She thought I’d get sick.”

  “That makes sense.” And then he asked her an odd question. “Are you always this friendly to strangers?” She laughed and shook her head.

  “No. But you seem like an honest person. There are lots of people around. I don’t think you’re going to try and kill me at an open-air café.”

  “I could be dangerous,” he said, and they both laughed.

  “Are you?”

  “No.”

  “What do you do?” She was curious about him too. He had looked upset when he sat down, but he seemed more relaxed now, and appeared friendlier. And he was interesting to talk to.

  “I work for The Factory,” he said simply. He didn’t say he was the CFO, or that his mother owned it.

  “They have great stuff,” she commented. “My sister and brother bought all their furniture there. Do you sell furniture?”

  “No, I work in the main office. In finance.”

  “That figures. I guessed you were a lawyer or a banker.”

  “Do I look that stuffy?”

  “No.” She laughed. “But you’re wearing nice shoes and a suit. You probably have a tie in your pocket.” He laughed and pulled it out. It was a dark blue Hermès. Maybe she wasn’t such a bad judge of character after all. And she had traveled the world.

  They talked for a while, about her experiences in the Peace Corps, and he admitted that he’d gone to Harvard, when she said she had gone to Duke. She was a bright girl and interesting to talk to, and it sounded crazy, but he wanted to see her again. He didn’t volunteer the fact that he was married and she didn’t ask. She thought maybe he was divorced, and he had admitted he was forty-six when he mentioned business and Harvard. He didn’t want to date her, he just wanted to talk to her again. It was midnight, and he thought he should get home, and he handed her his business card before he stood up.

  “This probably sounds silly, and I’m sure you can take care of yourself, but if I can do anything to help you, give me a call.” He handed her the card that said he was the CFO. She didn’t look at it and slipped it into her book, like a bookmark.

  “Thank you, that’s very nice of you. I appreciate it,” she said, with her big smile and beautiful teeth.

  “Could I call you
sometime?” he asked, and couldn’t believe what he had just said. He was a married man. What would he call her about? But she nodded and smiled and wrote her cell number down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. It was as simple as that. For one totally unusual evening, he had felt like a kid again, and a free man. He was acting as though he had no attachments in the world, when in fact he had a wife at home who was about to become a federal judge and thought he had no balls. And then he realized he didn’t know one important detail. “What’s your name?”

  They both laughed then. They had been talking so much, they had forgotten to introduce themselves. His name was on his card, but she hadn’t looked at it.

  “I’m Taylor Dean,” she said, holding a hand out to him. When he shook it, her grip was firm but not too strong, and he noticed that her hands were beautiful.

  “I’m Phillip Grayson.” He hoped she wouldn’t recognize the Grayson name, or Google him. He was sure that knowing who he was would be too overwhelming for her. But there was no reason to suspect she would discover it.

  “Thanks, Phillip,” she said, as she signaled for her check, but he had already taken care of it when he went to the men’s room a short time before. It had cost him ten dollars, which was probably a big deal to her. When she realized what he’d done, she thanked him profusely, and they both stood up. She was tall, he realized, and had a beautiful figure. She looked perfect to him.

  They left the restaurant together, and she headed in the direction of the apartment she had just rented. He wished he could go with her, but he had a wife at home. And she was a young girl. He was eighteen years older than she was, which was a lot, and he was married, which made the whole scenario impossible. He knew he’d probably never see her again, and eventually he’d throw her number out. He had put it in his suit pocket, like a lock of hair, or a secret code. It felt magic, and so did she.

  “Take care, Taylor,” he said to her, and then he hailed a cab. “Good luck,” he added and meant it, which told her she would never hear from him. She waved as the cab pulled away, and Phillip wanted to jump out and follow her.