by Lynn Steward
Patti’s thoughts were interrupted by the Altman Foundation’s executive director, who wanted to discuss a topic he planned to bring up that afternoon with the director of communications for the Association Residence for the Aged. Although the day was more hectic than most, she was thankful for her position as grants manager, a title she’d held with the Houston Endowment. Her work at the foundation had become her entire life, but without it she would have been alone in New York City. Fortunately, her colleagues were warm, friendly people, and Dana, who’d recommended her for the position, came by at least once a day to say hello or ask what she was working on.
And yet Patti was feeling depressed and isolated despite being surrounded by so many caring coworkers. Whether or not Jack was at home, she felt lonely most evenings, staring at the television or reading a book after dinner, the antithesis of the active social life she enjoyed with her husband in Houston. If she attempted to engage him in conversation, his canned response was that he was tired and had to get to bed since the following day’s schedule was going to be brutal.
As for intimacy, she could count on one hand the number of times they’d made love in the past two months. When she gave him a hug or held his hand, he would smile weakly and give her a quick kiss on the lips, but his mind seemed elsewhere. Moving to New York had been difficult enough, but didn’t he realize that she needed him all the more after being uprooted from their stable lives and extensive circle of friends in Texas? Jack had always been a hard worker, but he’d always made time for Patti and enjoyed leisurely evenings at home or sitting in neighbors’ backyards for a barbecue. It was as if he’d become synchronized with the faster pace of New York. Or was he depressed because he, too, missed their home and lifestyle in Houston while trying to successfully run the East Coast office?
Patti closed the file on her desk, her head bent forward, resting in her hands. “Maybe it’s all in my imagination,” she sighed. “Maybe I’m the one who hasn’t adjusted to the move, and I’m expecting too much attention from Jack.”
Patti raised her head and recalled how Jack had bought her an Elsa Peretti necklace from Tiffany’s the previous week, adding, “Sorry I’ve been distracted lately.” While the gesture was kind and loving, the message was hollow, and she sensed he was merely going through the motions. Still, he’d made an effort to show his affection. Perhaps he would slow down and she would find her concerns had been exaggerated.
Perhaps. It was just that her intuitions seldom proved to be incorrect, and her hunch was that something was very wrong with Jack or their relationship.
• • •
Patti was exhausted after the reception but stopped in her office to check for phone messages. There were two that would keep until the morning. She was ready to go home and relax. One of the foundation’s secretaries, however, brought her a third pink message slip. It was from Jack. “Have to work late again. Don’t wait up. Love, Jack.”
Patti sighed. Jack knew how important the Snowdon exhibit was, as well as the Association Residence for the Aged. They had plans for a quiet dinner at one of their favorite restaurants that evening to discuss the highlights of the day and her introduction to Lord Snowdon.
But it wasn’t going to happen. She had given him the benefit of the doubt over and over, but she’d been disappointed yet again. There was nothing to do but go home, take a hot bath, and call it a day.
She picked up her briefcase and walked to the elevators on the fifth floor. She was more than just frustrated, however. She was holding back tears.
“How was the reception?” Dana asked, approaching from the left. “I was hoping to stop by and have a glass of champagne, but I couldn’t get in the room. The line at the door was five deep. Did you—”
Dana paused, noting Patti’s drawn features.
“Is everything okay?” Dana asked.
Patti bit her lip and shook her head.
Dana took Patti by the arm and led her down the corridor to her own office. “Here,” Dana said, motioning to a chair by her desk. “Sit down while I get you some water. You look pale.”
A minute later, Dana handed Patti a cup of water from the cooler down the hall. Patti took a sip but couldn’t suppress her tears any longer.
Dana placed her hand on Patti’s forearm. “Did something happen at the reception? Would you like to talk?”
Patti swallowed hard, inhaled, and tried to speak. “I’m so tired of Jack changing plans at the last minute. We’re never on the same page anymore. Never!”
Dana nodded. “I’ve had some experience with that.”
Patti, usually the perfect image of confidence, looked at Dana tentatively. “I was wondering—would you mind if we could talk one day when you have the time. If it isn’t any trouble, that is.”
“Trouble?” Dana said. “Of course not. And you’re not going home to eat by yourself tonight. We’ll go to my house, and I’ll fix dinner. We’ll have more privacy there than talking in a restaurant, and we can open a bottle of wine and relax.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be any trouble.”
Dana sensed Patti was not somebody who felt comfortable asking for help, especially with a personal matter, but she was clearly distressed about her marriage.
“It’s no trouble at all,” Dana said. “I’ll make sinfully rich Fettuccini Alfredo and put you to work grating the Parmesan. That will release some stress, and I have the perfect white wine to go with it.”
“Thanks,” Patti said in a hoarse whisper. “I’m so embarrassed. You must think I’m crazy.”
“No, what I think is that you need some company and a few hours away from your routine.”
Patti’s lips formed a weak smile as the two women left and headed for Sniffen Court.
• • •
After putting water on the stove to simmer slowly, Dana opened a bottle of Fiano di Avellino and sat with Patti in the living room.
“I know you’ve gone through tough times recently,” Patti began, “and I was wondering … well … did you notice trouble coming on in your marriage? Is there something I should be looking for? I mean, Jack and I always had a solid marriage, and now, out of the blue, he’s hardly ever there, physically or emotionally.” Patti sniffled and wiped away tears with a Kleenex.
Dana was keenly aware that she was no expert when it came to dispensing personal advice, especially about marriage, but she’d never seen Patti looking so distressed.
“Brett and I married awfully young,” Dana began. “I think that had a lot to do with our problems. I believe my mother felt that way when Brett and I first started going out, and she was certainly disturbed by our engagement, believing Brett to be immature. We shared some interests, but in retrospect, I wonder if he and I were really suited for each other. Youth can gloss over so many important issues. How long have you and Jack been married?”
“Just four years. I didn’t think twenty-three was too young to get engaged, and my parents really loved Jack. Until we moved to New York, I thought we had the perfect marriage.”
Dana, who sat next to Patti on the couch, sipped her wine and moved it in a gentle circular motion, watching the wine’s legs briefly creep up the side of the glass. “I guess age is relative when it comes to marriage. It depends on the individual, but it sounds like you knew what you wanted. I’m not so sure I did, though. The most important thing to know is that there’s no such thing as a perfect marriage.”
Patti’s eyebrows furrowed. “I guess I know that intellectually, but since we’ve never had any major conflicts, I haven’t really thought about it. Do you think I might be overreacting to Jack’s behavior or his change of mood?”
Dana moved her head from side to side slightly, weighing the question. “It’s hard to say. In Brett’s case, he worked long hours for many years. Sometimes the late nights at the office were warranted, but … “ Dana paused in order to choose her words carefully. “Even people who work hard can take time to do the small things that let you know they’re aware of
your needs. In the long run, I believe spouses can make time if they really want to. Even the busiest. That’s not to say people don’t get caught up in their jobs and become neglectful or self-absorbed. I don’t think it’s possible for couples to share everything with each other, but that’s why a level of trust is so important. There could be something troubling him at the office, and he doesn’t want to worry you.”
Patti was steadier now, more composed. “He was always eager to tell me about his work,” she said. “In fact, in a family company like ours, especially in the oil business, it’s very common for wives to be kept in the loop about most matters. As for the little things, Jack gives me presents occasionally and even says that he’s aware that he’s not around much, but it doesn’t seem that his heart is in it.”
“In what?” Dana asked.
“In his words. Or—” Patti took a sip of wine and looked away from Dana. “Or in the marriage.”
Dana nodded her understanding. “I know the feeling all too well, unfortunately. Have you sat down and had a serious talk with Jack? Told him how much his absence is affecting you? Have you asked him to make more time for you in his schedule while demonstrating understanding for the stress he himself might be under?”
Patti shook her head. “Not really. I’ve started to broach the subject a couple of times, but I think he senses what I’m going to say and he cuts me off, suggesting we go to a movie or an exhibit at the Met. Anywhere there’s a crowd so we aren’t alone. Then we come home and he’s either too tired to talk or gets on the phone.”
“I would insist that he make time for the two of you to have a serious discussion,” Dana said. “Don’t let him off the hook.” While Dana was hesitant to give any specific advice for fear of being intrusive, Patti had thus far asked straightforward questions, and Dana was merely suggesting that the couple talk. It was what any therapist would have recommended as a first step.
“You’re right,” Patti said. “I’m going to do it when he gets home tonight.” Patti paused yet again. “But tell me honestly, Dana. Are the things I’m describing … are they, you know, warning signs?”
“Yes, but what kind of warning signs is another question. I think you’re asking whether or not Jack’s neglect might signal that he’s having an affair, right?”
Patti sighed and spoke reluctantly. “I have to admit that the possibility has crossed my mind.”
“That’s one question I can’t answer,” Dana said. “Maybe he just needs a wake-up call. Until you two talk, try not to jump to any conclusions.”
“Okay. And thanks, Dana. I really didn’t know who to bring this to. I couldn’t discuss these personal problems in brief, long-distance telephone conversations with my friends in Houston. Besides, I wouldn’t want them to know that I was concerned about Jack or that there might be trouble in my marriage.”
“I understand completely,” Dana said. “You can talk to me anytime. Please—never hesitate to get in touch.”
The two women ate dinner, and Patti described how Lord Snowdon had been swamped by women fighting to get near him.
“We have to get through two more days of this,” Patti said, “and I heard that security is working on a new plan to control the crowds. The lines were too disorderly tonight, winding all over the sixth floor.”
“I walked through the exhibit when it was first installed, and I plan to see it again before it comes down,” Dana said. “I’d like more time to study the portraitures, although Andrew is getting me a copy of Assignments when he buys his.”
“I’ll get it autographed for you,” Patti said. “We’re having a meeting with Lord Snowdon in the morning. I hope I can concentrate. He’s so handsome!”
“That he is,” Dana said, “and much too charming. He’s so … “
The two women glanced at each other over the small dining table and burst out laughing.
“To Lord Snowdon,” Dana said, raising her glass.
“To Lord Snowdon.”
Patti helped with the dishes and left after giving Dana a hug. She wasn’t sure what was going on with Jack, but unburdening her soul and spending the evening with a friend had made her feel much better. At least she knew how to proceed.
• • •
Patti arrived at her apartment at ten o’clock that night. She paced about nervously for an hour, rehearsing what she was going to say to Jack. She was certain that he would try to put her off, assuring her that they could talk in the morning because he was dead tired, but she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. The talk suggested by Dana couldn’t wait any longer.
The clock on the mantel chimed eleven … and twelve. Jack hadn’t come home, nor had he called. Patti decided to relax in bed and read Assignments. It had been a long day, and between the champagne reception and her talk with Dana, she was exhausted.
At one-thirty, she fell asleep with the light on, the book having slipped to her lap. At some time during the night, she turned over in her sleep and noticed that the light was off and that Jack was lying beside her. For a moment she tried to sit-up, but she had been sleeping too soundly to initiate a conversation. She closed her eyes and fell back into a dreamless slumber.
Before opening her eyes in the morning, she remembered the task at hand. Turning to her left, she propped herself on her elbow and saw that Jack was gone. He had already gotten up, dressed, and left for the office.
Chapter Thirteen
Brett had not called Janice daily, as he’d promised, since arriving in New York City. He’d been consumed with looking into Hartlen Response’s slush fund and making sure that Jack would sign the consortium agreement. He had also been unable to resist the temptation to see what Dana was up to, so he had asked Wade Forrester to do a small job on the side—strictly off the books—with Brett paying out-of-pocket for the information. Brett, therefore, learned in short order of the surprise party thrown by Johnny and Andrew and that Dana was thriving at work. He’d also discovered that Dana had gone out with Mark Senger, and it hadn’t been just an innocent evening with a friend.
After receiving Forrester’s report, Brett gazed from his office window to New York’s financial district with a distant look in his eye. Like most husbands, he would have been happier to learn that his soon-to-be ex-wife was foundering without him, regretting her lightning-quick decision to seek a divorce, not that he would have sought a reconciliation. He was still caught up in the excitement and bohemian lifestyle that Janice offered him. Besides, what Forrester had told him was mere validation. Brett had instinctively known that Dana, a strong and determined woman, would move on with her life. She was not one to wallow in self-pity. That she would date so soon, however, was most definitely a surprise. A small part of him, buried beneath his winning smile and confident demeanor, was jealous and hurt even though he knew it was hypocritical to be upset.
His curiosity having been satisfied, Brett settled into his desk chair and dialed Janice’s number.
“Are you so busy that you can’t pick up the phone and keep in touch more often?” Janice asked, sounding mildly irritated.
Brett flinched, knowing that he’d let too much time pass since his last call two days earlier. “Sorry,” he said. “The Hartlen slush fund has taken a few weird turns. The money is being diverted to Hartlen Response, but a lot of it is missing, so I’m staying on top of it.”
“Good. Keep the pressure on lest Richard become really impatient. People at the firm tell me that he’s not happy that Jack has delayed committing to the consortium so many months after you officially declared the Hartlen signing a done deal. In terms of your partnership, remember that you’re the new kid on the block.”
“I’ve spoken with Richard and told him in so many words that Jack was able to drag his feet since I’ve been on the West Coast handling the asbestos case. He told me he understood, although I agree that results are what matter in the long run.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Janice spoke again.
“So what
have you been up to in New York?” she asked. “Playing squash? Keeping fit?”
Brett laughed. “I have to. You’re physically demanding. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”
“I should hope not. And what is Mrs. McGarry up to?”
Brett cleared his throat. “Haven’t a clue. I suppose she’s still working at B. Altman. I haven’t heard anything from her attorney, so I assume everything is still on track for the divorce to become finalized.”
“Is she dating anyone?” Janice asked. “Anything special going on in her life?”
“I wouldn’t have any way of knowing since I’ve had no contact with her. Anyway, it’s you I think of, not Dana.”
“A wise answer,” Janice said. “So when are you returning to San Francisco?”
“That’s one of the reasons why I’m calling. This slush fund business is going to keep me in New York a few extra days, maybe longer. Going through the books of Hartlen Response to track down where the charitable contributions are ending up isn’t going to be easy.”
“I understand,” Janice said. “Keep in touch. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. I’ll call again tonight.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Brett hung up the phone, feeling that the call had accomplished its purpose. He had reestablished contact, plus Janice was well aware that forensic analysis of a company’s books was difficult. As for her questions about Dana, they were natural. Janice was territorial in the extreme, and all mistresses asked a few probing questions to make sure their prey remained loyal, right?
Of course. Brett had things in hand as usual.
• • •
