“He needs to be Lord Castlereagh,” said Shiva.
Janis looked puzzled.
“Key player at the Congress of Vienna,” said the Governor.
“I’ll fill you in,” said Andrew.
“Shiva is going to take a nap,” said Judy. “Tomorrow we are going to fly to India so I can see a tiger.”
“And meet my family,” said Shiva.
“Only if they behave themselves,” said Judy.
“So, Janis,” said Shiva, pulling himself together, “this treaty you are ghostwriting. We’ve given it a name, which George can explain.”
“I’ll fill you in,” Andrew repeated.
“It needs to provide for Rosemary,” said Shiva. “Joe says she has to get whatever Cynthia gets. Talk to Joe about that. The more you talk to Joe the better. But as for the rest, for the next couple of hours, Judy has my proxy.” He stood up to go.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Judy.
“You don’t suppose he’s having a heart attack, do you?” said George when the two of them had left.
“God, I hope not,” said Andrew. That was all he needed. He was about to make a joke about Judy keeping Shiva up all night making love, but he remembered that the Governor was Judy’s father. And, of course, he himself had spent the night with Shiva’s “soon-to-be-former” wife. Everyone seemed to be accepting the pairings made the previous evening, but it might be better for the deal if they kept sex in the background. If that was possible.
“I think where we are,” said Janis, “is that over the next few months, Shiva will be giving Joe access to his companies and his people. Joe can’t do Andrew’s deal without a certain amount of due diligence, and I suspect Shiva’s empire isn’t compartmentalised the way an American corporation would be. There’s no knowing what’s connected to what. Joe will have to turn over a lot of rocks. If in the process he finds a decision that needs making, he’ll tell Shiva. If Shiva demonstrates – to Joe and to himself – that he is able to just do what Joe suggests without a lot of fuss, well, that’s the real due diligence they need to do for the bigger deal. Right?”
“Nicely put,” said Andrew.
“And we put something in the announcement about ‘further cooperation,’” said the Governor.
“Which Shiva can point to,” said Andrew, “if any of his brothers or vassals think Joe’s due diligence is getting too extensive.”
“You understand how this works?” said the Governor to Janis. “Shiva is the one who wants the bigger deal, but he tells everyone Joe’s the one who wants it, and he’s humouring Joe in order to get the smaller deal done, which is what he, Shiva, wants – when in fact Joe’s the one who cares about the smaller deal. See?”
“Yes, Governor, I see,” said Janis softly.
Just for a moment they were looking at each other as if they were alone, as if Andrew wasn’t in the room. Andrew couldn’t help wondering when George was going to tell her which Boston firm she was joining. But maybe they had more of an understanding than Andrew knew about.
Judy came back into the study.
“How is he?” said Andrew.
“Asleep already,” said Judy. “Now you boys go amuse yourselves – and talk to Joe. In fact, send him up here so I can understand what he’s doing for Cynthia. Then I suggest you let Janis and me go to work.”
“And the confidentiality bit?” said the Governor.
“Of course,” said Judy.
Minutes later Andrew was summoned back upstairs. “You need to resign,” said Janis.
“So I won’t be fired?” said Andrew.
“Being fired would be better than resigning,” said Judy, “from a financial point of view, that is. I assume you have some unvested stock options they can take away from you if you quit. But you can’t sign fee agreements with Joe and Shiva until you have quit.”
“In fact,” said Janis, “and speaking hypothetically, it would be better for you to quit out of anger and without knowing what you’re going to do next.”
“Do you know how to get angry, Andrew?” Judy asked.
“Of course I do,” said Andrew, suddenly feeling that his masculinity had been questioned. He tried to suppress that thought, however. Bankers who feel their masculinity is being questioned tend to make mistakes.
“Do you have your relevant colleague’s number?” said Janis.
“My ‘technical’ boss?” said Andrew, remembering Joe’s comments about facing reality. “I regret to say I kept his number on my mobile phone. Force of habit.”
“Call him now,” said Janis. With the Governor out of the room, she could be quite commanding. “You’ve heard they’ve moved your office without telling you – that would be a good place to start.” He’d forgotten he’d told Janis about that. He’d needed to tell someone.
“He may not even be up yet,” said Andrew. “The client outing can go pretty late. I mean, I want to do it with a bit of class. I don’t want to be an asshole.”
“So much the better if you wake him up,” said Judy. His mobile was in his pocket but he hesitated, so she went on. “Fish it out. And don’t hold back. We want to watch you be an asshole.”
“We advise you to be an asshole,” said Janis with a smile.
Andrew told Rosemary all about it. “I’m unemployed,” he said. “I feel terrific.” He and the two young lawyers had come downstairs for a celebratory glass of orange juice.
“He was rude and reckless,” said Judy. “We advised him to think twice.”
“I have a fair amount saved that I can live on,” said Andrew.
“I pointed out he could live another fifty years,” said Janis.
“He may never get another job on Wall Street,” said Judy. “Not after what he called the man who used to be his boss.”
“His ‘technical boss,’” said Janis.
“Perhaps you can get a job in a bookshop,” said Rosemary. “Or a diner.”
“Perhaps I should work on my sandwich-making technique,” said Andrew.
“I think you’d better,” said Rosemary. The two young lawyers went back upstairs. Andrew and Rosemary went into the kitchen.
“Before we start making lunch…” said Andrew.
“Yes?” said Rosemary.
Before he could answer, Sally came in. “You need to tell me if I should pack,” she said.
“I would think so,” said Andrew.
“Well, I saw you talking to Joe in the garden. He hasn’t exactly told me what’s happening. There aren’t enough plane tickets to get everyone back to Manhattan. Some of us have to spend the night. Someone has to drive your car back, Andrew, whenever you go...”
This would have been the right moment for Andrew to indicate that he planned to stay on Nantucket for a while, and that he hoped Rosemary would stay with him, but there was a loud knock at the front door, which he thought he should answer.
It was Lydia, looking for George.
“I’ll see if I can find him,” said Andrew, glad that Janis was tucked away in the upstairs study. It seemed to him that Lydia was overdressed for Nantucket. She always was.
“I just need him for a minute,” said Lydia. “I’ll wait on the porch if you want.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Andrew. “Come into the living room.”
Lydia sat on the front half of the sofa. She was clutching a small paper bag.
“Can I get you anything?” said Rosemary.
“No thank you,” said Lydia. “Oh, here he is.”
“Would you like us to leave you two alone?” said Andrew.
“No need,” said Lydia. “Sit down, George. It will all be public soon enough.”
Andrew held his breath. George looked resigned.
“I have a confession to make,” said Lydia, “and a request.”
“I want to help with lunch,” said Cathy, coming down the stairs. It was in the nature of an announcement, Andrew observed. She wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular.
“Oh, hello, Lyd
ia,” said Cathy.
“What have you done to your hair?” said Lydia.
“It’s a long story,” said Cathy. “But will you stay for lunch?”
It was Cathy’s house, Andrew reminded himself. And yes, it was a long story. And probably not one to tell Lydia.
“Thank you,” said Lydia. “I will not. George, here’s the… item I found in the washing machine.” She handed him the paper bag. “And here’s my engagement ring.” She pulled it off her finger and handed it to him. “And my wedding ring.”
George said nothing. Andrew assumed he’d been through this sort of thing before.
“I’ve met someone in California,” said Lydia. “He lives in Pasadena.” This sounded like a new departure.
“Your mother’s not actually dying?” said George.
“Of course not,” said Lydia, as if the idea of her seventy-something mother expiring was absurd. “I keep coming back to talk to you, and then you do something to make me angry, so I postpone it. But I can’t wait any longer. I want a divorce. I want to marry Harold.”
“And live in Pasadena,” said George.
“Yes,” said Lydia.
George thought about that for a moment. “You never wanted to leave California in the first place, did you?” said George.
“And I shouldn’t have,” said Lydia.
Having delivered her message, Lydia stood up. “You can come back to the house after five tomorrow,” she said to George. “I have movers coming in the morning to pack up my things. You can keep the furniture. It belongs to the house. And the house belongs to American history, as you like to tell people. And even if it didn’t I wouldn’t want it. I’ve never liked Nantucket.”
Goodbye Lydia, Andrew said to himself. He’d thought she was a mistake from the day he met her. Odd that George should have proposed to her when he could have married anyone he wanted.
“How would you like to do this?” said George.
“Oh, you can tell people I left you for Harold. I have been sleeping with him.” She said it a bit primly but with obvious pride, looking around the room to check reactions. “That way, you’re the injured party. You can still be President.”
14
Lydia closed the door behind her. For several seconds everyone just looked at each other.
“George,” said Rosemary briskly. “Come with me.”
“What?” said the Governor, who was still presumably in shock.
“I need to go to the store. You can drive me. Your car is blocking Andrew’s.” This wasn’t true, actually.
“I’m in the middle of a deal, Rosemary,” said the Governor. “I thought you were going to go with Cynthia.”
“I think she went for a walk. But everyone is in the middle of a deal, George. What you need to do now is get out of the way. Isn’t that right?” she asked, looking around for confirmation.
“Probably,” said Janis, who seemed to be transfixed halfway down the stairs. She would have heard the end of Lydia’s speech.
George walked over to the stairs and handed her the paper bag Lydia had given him that contained the black lace underwear. It seemed to Andrew that George should have smiled as he did that, but he didn’t.
“Maybe you should take a breather, Governor,” said Andrew. “I’ll come with you.”
The three of them went to George’s car. The Governor drove. Rosemary sat beside him. Andrew got in the back seat – and seemingly became invisible.
“I had to get you away from there,” said Rosemary, as soon as they were on the road and heading into town. “I need to speak to you in your capacity as a parent.”
“Are you a parent, Rosemary?” said the Governor.
“No,” she said, “but I feel like one. I feel responsibility for that sweet young woman you have brought into the world.”
“I’ve felt responsibility since before she was born,” said the Governor. “I’ve paid a lot of bills – anonymously, of course.”
“Well, now you can get directly involved,” said Rosemary. “So tell me this: do you really think she should run off with my husband?”
The Governor gave her three answers: “I thought you didn’t want him anymore.” And then: “Anyway, she’s an adult. It’s up to her what she does. We don’t even know each other. What I think should be of no consequence.” And after a further moment of reflection: “Probably not.”
Rosemary responded that she hadn’t discarded Shiva – oh, please, but you have, Andrew said to himself – that George shouldn’t think of it that way and that Shiva was an excellent person. Regarding George’s second set of comments, she observed that while Judy might be a certifiable genius she had the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old, and that having wished for a father all her life, and now having one, she would care what that father thought even if he turned out to have the acuity of a goldfish, which was not the case with George. Rosemary thought there should be a cooling-off period on the Shiva business, as the law required for certain major purchases by innocent consumers.
But I don’t want a cooling-off period, Andrew said silently. And by the way, Judy is wiser than she looks.
“So you want to go back to New York with Shiva this evening?” said the Governor.
“Not necessarily,” said Rosemary. “I might want to stay here tonight. I might want to have another chat with your daughter. I doubt her mother told her much about men. I know a bit about men – especially Shiva. And by the way, you might want to talk to Shiva.”
“You think he should ask for my blessing?” said the Governor. He made a joke of it, but the thought was there.
Rosemary didn’t answer. “And then there’s Janis,” she said.
“I have to get her off the island,” said the Governor. “If you and Judy both stay here tonight, there will be a seat for her on the plane to New York. I assume Andrew’s billionaires have commitments – and Cynthia has to be on television early tomorrow morning. If Janis can go to New York this evening, she can catch the last shuttle to Boston from there and be in her office early tomorrow and not arouse anyone’s curiosity.”
“I assume Sally who isn’t Cathy will be taking the fourth seat,” said Rosemary.
“What’s real Cathy – damn it, I’ve known her for thirty years – what’s Cathy going to do?”
“Andrew hasn’t told me.”
It seemed very odd of Rosemary to speak of him as if he weren’t there. If she was sending Andrew a message, he didn’t like it.
“Well, they can’t very well stay together now that she’s come out,” said George. “Dramatic, the way she did it, showing up with her hair cut off.”
“You and Lydia have stayed together for a pretty long time,” said Rosemary, “despite your different natures.”
“At least we’re both heterosexual,” said George, “as Lydia was at pains to point out. Some people have suggested I am excessively heterosexual, in fact.” He seemed to be annoyed at Cathy for being a lesbian.
Rosemary waited for George to finish parking at the shop before she spoke again. “So why did Lydia put up with you?” she said.
“I assume she found me attractive – at least at the start. Some women do. Not my fault. Maybe she wanted to live in the White House some day. How should I know what goes on in women’s heads?”
Neither of them seemed inclined to get out of the car yet. Andrew held his breath.
“Maybe she loved you,” said Rosemary. “If someone loves you, you should know what’s going on in their heads. Or at least you should try.”
Again Andrew wondered if Rosemary was speaking to him, though she continued to pretend he wasn’t there. But how was he supposed to know she was worried about Judy – or what Rosemary thought about Janis, for that matter? She’d encouraged Judy to sleep with Shiva in the first place. They were both nice girls, and he didn’t want either of them to get hurt, but they weren’t Rosemary’s concern, he would have thought. They hadn’t been up to now. What was Rosemary up to?
“Well, I
can’t do much about what I’m like at this point,” said George. “But what am I supposed to do about Judy?”
“You are concerned, aren’t you? You just didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself. Typical male behaviour.”
It occurred to Andrew that Rosemary was making it all up. She wasn’t a conventional woman, and certainly not one who complained about stereotypical male behaviour. She was a goddess, and goddesses didn’t complain about men. They turned them into frogs or struck them dead.
“So what would you have me do about Judy?” said George.
“Take an interest. Examine the situation. Talk to Shiva. Talk to her. There’s clearly a powerful infatuation. What do your instincts tell you about the longer term?”
“My instincts all have to do with politics.”
“Meaning dreams and weaknesses,” said Rosemary.
The Governor stopped talking and stared at Rosemary for a long moment – not something many people could make George do. “My profession in a phrase,” he said. “My whole life, actually. I wish I’d met you when I was in college.”
George had always had a fund of pick-up lines.
“Then I would have met Andrew sooner,” she said – which was nice. “But I would have been eight,” she added.
“True,” said the Governor. “But go on about dreams. I like them better than weaknesses.”
“Dreams compress reality,” said Rosemary, “same as poems do. If you think about it, dreams are poems and poems are dreams: alternate manifestations of the same essence. That makes you a poet, George.”
“Now you sound like Shiva.”
“No, I sound like me. He learned how to do it from me, if the truth be known. He read engineering at Oxford.”
“Andrew talks that way too, sometimes,” said George. “Or he used to in college. He did very well at Harvard, you know. Sort of a waste, his ending up on Wall Street. But his family didn’t have any money, so he thought he ought to make some. Which he has. Which is commendable.”
Fuck you, George, Andrew said to himself.
“It is easier to imagine him as a professor than as a Wall Street titan,” said Rosemary. She paused. “Except for the courage.”
Nantucket Page 17
