Oh, wow. Can I rewind and erase the last thirty seconds from my memory?
“I really don’t need to know this, mother,” I said.
Cherie shrugged. “You asked.”
“It wasn’t just about sex. I don’t believe that.”
“Well, of course, who wouldn’t love the lifestyle back then? It was an age of giants. People had stature. Year by year, the world has gotten smaller. With the advent of reality television, it has become positively Lilliputian. Yes, I enjoyed being a New York player in those days, but don’t fool yourself that I didn’t enjoy rolling around in the sheets with that man. Without that, I’m sure I would have left far sooner than I did, even though I loved him. That was an era where women were supposed to turn a blind eye to the affairs, you know. We were all supposed to attend the Rose Kennedy school, where boys will be boys and you have to forgive their little dalliances. Not me.”
“He was devastated when you left,” I said. “Truly.”
“Then he should have stopped sleeping with his authors.”
I could see it in her eyes. Thirty years hadn’t dimmed the hurt.
“I was devastated, too,” I murmured.
Cherie’s face melted, and she clutched my hand tightly. “Oh, yes, I know. It was a hole in my heart not to have you with me. You do understand that, don’t you? I wanted you to come to L.A., but Sonny was determined to keep you, and in the end, he was right. It wouldn’t have been fair to take you out of the world you knew. Not then.” She reached out and stroked my hair. “Things are very different, though, aren’t they? You’re not a little girl anymore.”
No, I wasn’t, but sometimes she still made me feel that way. Mothers always do.
“I still worry about you,” Cherie went on, “no matter how old you are.”
“You don’t need to.”
“But I do. I worry that you are lonely, Julie. I worry that you keep a world of hurt inside and you close off the world to prevent being hurt again. You are a flower, my dear, and beautiful flowers are meant to be open.”
I wanted to tell her that she was wrong about me, but she wasn’t wrong. Not really.
“I’m fine, mother,” I told her, but I wasn’t fooling either of us.
“Fine? You can do better than fine. Nothing keeps you here now, Julie. Truly. Why stay? You were the jewel of Sonny’s life, but he’s gone now. You don’t owe him anything except to be happy. It’s time to live your own life. It’s time for my flower to enjoy the sun.”
I swore I wouldn’t cry again, but I did. I don’t know who I was crying for. Sonny. Her. Me. The past. Everything that once was and couldn’t be anymore. My mother pulled her chair next to me and held me and let me grieve. Eventually, I wiped my eyes and pulled away.
“Tell me something honestly, mother,” I said. “What kind of a man was Sonny?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know he cheated on you all the time. Was that who he was?”
Her brow furled. “Why are you asking me this, Julie?”
“I’m beginning to think I didn’t know him at all. Can you be dishonest in one part of your life and a great man in another? Or is a fraud always a fraud?”
“I don’t like to hear you talk like that. Sonny was your father.”
“Yes, but he lied to me about King’s book, mother. He was keeping things from me.”
“Why does this matter to you?”
“Because I need to know the truth about him if I’m going to let him go,” I said. “Tell me something. Be honest. Irving Wolfe was one of the early investors in West 57, wasn’t he? You must know.”
Cherie hesitated, but she nodded. “Yes, true. What of it?”
“What of it? He and Wolfe had a relationship going back decades. Doesn’t that mean something?”
“No one asserts that Wolfe’s crimes go back so far. There was nothing shady about his involvement with West 57. It was a business investment, pure and simple.”
“That doesn’t matter. Wolfe and Sonny were connected then, and I think they were still connected. I think – I think – that Sonny may have been involved in Wolfe’s fraud in some way.”
I said it aloud, and it nearly took my breath away, but that was what I was thinking. That was my secret fear. Sonny was a crook. A thief, like Wolfe. And now I was an accessory after the fact, perpetrating a scam with a book called Captain Absolute.
My mother sat back in her chair and folded her arms with a you-are-a-child look. She shook her head fiercely. “Never.”
“It’s the only explanation that makes sense, mother.”
“You are wrong. You knew this man, Julie. So did I. He was passionate, and in his passion he sometimes hurt those around him. But he was a good man. A decent man.”
“I’m not so sure anymore.”
Cherie clutched my hand again, and I heard frustration in her voice. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You’re making yourself crazy. This is your sorrow talking, my dear, not you. You are too close to this to think with your head and not your heart. There is only one answer. Let Helmut and the Germans worry about West 57. Walk away. If Sonny were alive, he would have done exactly the same thing.”
“I doubt that.”
“Trust me, Sonny could read the writing on the wall like anyone else. Forget about King Royal, Julie. Forget about Irving Wolfe. Forget about this book. Trust what you know about your father, and put his legacy in the hands of Gernestier. They are competent businesspeople, and they will make sure West 57 endures for years. You have other things to do with your life. Let it go, and start over.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
My mother sighed. “You need to get a life, and I am determined you will have one, my dear. Go to dinner with Thad tonight. Okay? You promise me?”
“I will.”
“Forget about business. Have fun.”
I smiled. “Sure.”
“Then do yourself a favor,” she told me, “and for God’s sake, sleep with him.”
21
Let it go.
That was good advice, even if it came from my mother. Unfortunately, I haven’t made it to my position in life – late thirties, unmarried, risk-averse, closed off, inadvertently celibate – by taking good advice. No, I didn’t let it go. I couldn’t help myself. If I were in a horror film where a deranged zombie was carving up rural teenage girls, I would be the one who said, “Now’s a good time to have sex in that deserted farm house.”
Actually, I was in a horror film once. You will find me in the credits as “Bathtub Victim With Long Hair.”
After I left my mother, I flagged down one of the Farouks and shuttled to the other side of the Park to visit Libby Varnay. It wasn’t just a social call. She was not only Sonny’s friend, she also knew the comings and goings on the Upper East Side better than Liz Smith. Everyone told Libby everything. If anyone could help me unearth the truth behind Sonny’s secrets, it was her.
Her nephew and chauffeur, Drew, buzzed me into the building and answered the door on the second floor. He wore a suit that must have been specially made to accommodate his girth. “Hullo, Ms. Chavan,” he told me, and his deep voice rumbled like truck tires on the highway. For as young as he was, he’d already lost most of his hair, making him look like a coal-colored Friar Tuck.
“Is she home, Drew?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I glanced around the bejeweled living room, and that was when the reality hit me that Libby was leaving. I’d never really believed that she would abandon New York to go upstate, but she was in the midst of packing up her life. The art had been stripped from the walls. There were open boxes on the floors. Even though she was still here, I felt lonely all over again. I missed her already.
“Are you going with her to Ithaca, Drew?” I asked the boy.
“Oh yes, ma’am. I’d never let Ms. Libby go anywhere without me. She saved me.”
“Good.”
“I’ll get her for you.”
“Thanks.”
I wandered to the window and looked down at the street below me. Her location on Park Avenue was a prize. The curtains beside me had a musty elegance, like something out of a Victorian romance. I told myself that if I owned such a place, I could never leave it behind. Someplace with character and culture, someplace that was part of my blood.
Someplace like West 57.
Was Cherie right? Could Sonny have let the house go?
Could I?
“Oh, my, you look deep in thought,” Libby said to me from the other side of the room. Her eyes twinkled. Her hands were on her hips.
I smiled. “I just had breakfast with my mother. That always gets me thinking.”
“Cherie’s in town? Lucky you.”
“It’s not luck. There are no accidents with my mother. She wanted to see me face to face to tell me I should move west.” I knew that was why she took that red-eye. It wasn’t Bree. It wasn’t Thad. It was me.
“And?”
“And I still don’t know what to do.”
“Well, moving isn’t easy, I’ll tell you that,” Libby said with a sigh. Her eyes roamed the room as she wandered among the boxes. She wore a form-fitting peach dress that accented her tall, pencil figure.
“But you’re doing it.”
“Yes, I am. It’s working, too. Creatively, that is. I have a chapter done in my book, which is more than I can say for the past six months. Would you like to read it?”
“Of course. I’d be honored.”
“I’ll have Drew print it out before you go. I have no idea how the printer works. I keep looking for the carriage return at the end of every line when I’m typing on the computer.” She came close and touched my shoulder. “How are you, Julie? I felt awful about what happened at the Tavern. Are you okay?”
I nodded. “No harm done.”
“Did you find out who this man was?”
“He was another victim of Irving Wolfe. He lost everything in the fraud. It’s hard to blame him for being upset.”
“Yes, but he had no reason to blame you.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe he’s right.”
“It’s just that emotions are running high again about Wolfe because of that book. That’s one thing I won’t miss. No one around here seems to talk about anything other than Captain Absolute.”
“What are they saying?” I asked.
Libby frowned and didn’t answer right away. She removed a packing box from a Georgian-style sofa and sat down. She crossed her legs, tugged at her hem, and patted the sofa next to her. I joined her there. The sofa seemed made for perfect posture, which Libby always had. “Would you like something to eat?” she asked me. “I can have Drew fix us lunch.”
“No, I had a late breakfast with Cherie.”
“Sarabeth’s?”
“That’s right.”
“Some things never change. Whenever I see her, that’s where we meet.”
I was surprised. “I didn’t know you two were friends,” I said.
“Oh, we get together now and then. I’m not sure Sonny approved. He probably figured she was poisoning me about him, as if Cherie could tell me anything I didn’t already know.” She added with a wink, “I think she always wanted me as an ally in getting you out to Los Angeles, but I was like Switzerland. Scrupulously neutral.”
“I appreciate that.”
She studied my face. “You look tired, Julie.”
“Late night. Too much wine.”
“Ah.”
“You saw the interview with King Royal?”
“Yes, I imagine most people around here did. He’s an unusual man. I find his attachment to Irving Wolfe a little disturbing. The way he calls him the Captain. Is it real or affectation, do you think?”
“It’s hard to tell with King.” I added, “I feel like I’ve unleashed a whirlwind.”
“You have.”
“What should I do?” I asked.
“Well, my advice is simply to protect yourself, Julie. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Do you think I need a bodyguard?” I asked, only half-joking.
Libby didn’t smile. “I meant emotionally, but don’t take your security for granted. There are others just like that man in the Tavern who have fallen from a great height. If you feel that everything has been taken from you, you may act as if you have nothing to lose.”
“All this because of Irving Wolfe.”
Libby nodded. “You have to understand the dimensions of his betrayal. He wasn’t simply a thief in the night. He was one of us, part of the Upper East Side community. To have him do what he did, for so long, is a kind of incestuous rape.”
“King isn’t making it better.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“Sonny had to know what would happen when he published this book,” I said.
“Of course, he did.”
“So why did he do it?”
“Why? Sonny was a publisher. What would you have him do, censor King Royal? That would have been abhorrent to him. And pointless. Someone else would have printed the book.”
Libby made it sound so simple. So did Cherie. Except it wasn’t simple. It was one thing to publish a book and another to seek it out. It was one thing to honor the truth and another to hide it. To keep secrets. That was what Sonny had been doing. I knew it was wrong not to trust my father, but I had to believe in my instincts. I didn’t think I was wrong about him.
Libby saw the struggle in my face. “What’s bothering you, Julie?”
I was tired of keeping it all to myself. I took a deep breath, and I told her everything. I told her about Nick Duggan and the slimy reporter’s insinuations about Sonny and Wolfe. I told her about King Royal’s blackmail and his hints about what Sonny knew. I told her about the ghost writer’s doubts about King’s story. I told her about Sonny’s partnership with Wolfe going back to the earliest days of West 57.
I told her: “I find myself believing the rumors, Libby. I find myself believing Duggan is right. I think, maybe Sonny really did help Wolfe hide a fortune. I think, who knows, maybe Wolfe really is still alive, and Sonny knew it, and King Royal knows it, too.”
“Oh, Julie.”
“My mother says I’m wrong about Sonny.”
“I think you are, too, but it’s not about right or wrong for you, is it? This is a crisis of faith. I understand.”
Yes, she really did. She knew what I was going through. Being in Libby’s presence, it was impossible to forget who she was. You could hear it in her turn of phrase. She knew people’s hearts. If you want empathy, talk to a writer.
“That’s why I have to know what really happened,” I told her.
“Unfortunately, faith is about things you cannot know, Julie. Sonny can’t tell you the truth. He can’t explain himself to you. He’s dead.”
“King’s not.”
“No, but would you really place your relationship with your father in the hands of a man like that? You can’t trust him.”
“I don’t want to,” I admitted, “but he knows what happened.”
“Even if he does, I’m not sure you should believe what he tells you. All you’ll have is more doubt, more uncertainty.”
I was frustrated, because she was right. Everyone was right, and yet everyone was wrong. “I guess you’re going to tell me what Cherie did. I should let it go and get on with my life.”
Libby shook her head. “No, I’m not saying that at all. I trust your judgment, Julie. If you think Sonny was keeping something from you, well, I believe you. What you have to accept is that you may never know exactly what it was or why he chose to keep it to himself. If you’re wrong about anything in all of this, it’s that you are letting what you don’t know overwhelm what you do know.”
“Like what?”
“Like the man you know Sonny to be.”
“Maybe he’s not the man I thought he was.”
Libby pursed her lips. I expected her to lecture me, like my mother. She would chide me for doubting
my father. Instead, she said, “Sonny did keep secrets from you, Julie. However, it doesn’t make him a bad man that he didn’t tell you everything. It makes him human.”
“What secrets?” I asked.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter now,” Libby sighed. “He made me swear that I would never tell you.”
“Now you really have me curious,” I said.
“Twenty years ago, Sonny asked me to marry him,” Libby announced.
I was stunned.
“You and Sonny?”
Libby nodded. “We spent two years as lovers. We did much of the editing of Morningside Park in his bed. Cherie knew about it. They were long-divorced, but Sonny told her he was getting serious about me. That’s when Cherie came to visit me for the first time. To warn me.”
“About Sonny?”
“Yes. About his philandering ways as a husband. She didn’t need to bother. I knew all about it. It didn’t matter, because I was never going to marry him.”
“Why not?”
“I loved Sonny, but I knew we would never be equals in a relationship. He would always try to dominate me. Not out of spite. It’s just that he would dominate any woman. It was his nature. All I could see in marrying him was a slow suffocation of my soul. I’m too independent to give that up for a man. I wish I’d found someone I could love who would be a genuine partner, but sadly, I never did. Sonny was the one man I felt that way about, but it wasn’t enough.”
I stood up, trying to process what she’d told me. I knew what it meant for her to share this with me. She was laying herself bare. “I can’t believe he never said anything to me,” I said.
“He was proud, Julie. I turned him down. Women don’t say no to Sonny Chavan. To tell you about it would diminish himself in your eyes – at least, that was how he saw it. He also knew that you looked up to me, and I imagine he didn’t want to risk your misinterpreting my rejection of him. In fact, I’m still nervous about it.”
“Don’t be, Libby. I understand.”
“I hoped you would. You’re independent, like me.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Except I wasn’t feeling particularly independent right now.
“You see, we can keep secrets for lots of reasons,” Libby said. “Don’t assume the worst about Sonny. He doesn’t deserve that from you.”
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