As you can imagine, he was furious that Abel and I had carried out our courtship in secret. As the youngest in the family, he was always the most protective of me and had hoped I would secure the best marriage of all my sisters. Once his anger was spent, he listened to Abel’s plans for us, saying nothing in return. When I pleaded with him for his answer, he said he would only give his blessing once Abel could prove he had earned enough money for the down payment on a house. I was devastated: this meant at least another year of hard saving and sacrifice before we could be together. But Abel assured me that a year would pass quickly. He said it would give us time to plan and dream. We thought that time was something we had. We were wrong.
That September, Britain declared war on Germany. At first I was terrified Abel would be called up to the armed forces, but we soon learned his profession was to be classified as a ‘reserved occupation’: farmers were needed in order to safeguard food supply to the country. Even my father was pleased by this news and I began to hope that he might relent on his stipulations for our marriage.
By Christmas many of the young men from my village had either volunteered or been conscripted to join the Allied forces to fight. I thanked God every day that my Abel would not be joining them, already hearing awful tales of young men who went to fight, never to return. I planned my wedding and my mother and I began to work on my wedding dress and trousseau. Late into the night, we stitched and embroidered, talking about the wedding day and what might follow afterwards. Mother wanted at least two grandchildren from us: a girl and a boy. I remember her tears as she spoke of her own ambitions for my happiness.
I thought we had a lifetime to see those ambitions fulfilled. But within a year, I would see every one shattered.
Again, I must say, Bea, don’t ever think you can put off affairs of the heart. You may have all the time in the world, but you never know what might be around the next corner for the one you love.
I will write again soon.
Fondest love as always,
Grandma Dot xxx
With tears streaming from her eyes, Bea opened the copy of Persuasion to the place marked by the yellow bookmark. A Book Mouse in Regency soldier’s uniform pointed towards a pencil-underlined sentence in Captain Wentworth’s letter to Anne Elliot:
Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever.
If Bea was falling for Jake, would time prove to not be on her side? And how could she ever know, given his insistence on The Pact? For the first time that year, Bea feared that she might lose him. Grandma Dot had lost the love of her life in a way she never expected: could Jake disappear from hers as easily? The intensity of the fear shook her to the core, yet until she could see Jake again, how could she know whether it was real or not?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jake’s practice, McKevitt Buildings, Broadway
‘I can’t see the divorce as anything other than rejection. My husband doesn’t want me in his life any more, and he’s willing to pay to be rid of me. My friends say I should be grateful. Most of them didn’t sign pre-nups and lost everything when their husbands traded up. And sure, I’ll be more than comfortable financially. But I truly don’t care about the money. They don’t believe me: I even lost one friend over it because she accused me of bragging about the settlement. Fact is, I still love my husband. Even after the affairs, the lies, the rejection. I swear, Dr Steinmann, if Bill walked into this room right now and asked me back I’d do it. I’d give up the millions and the house in St Lucia and I’d run back into his arms. Am I crazy?’
Jake rubbed his forehead. ‘No, Joanie. You’re not.’ The session had begun with his client wanting to talk about her issues with her mother but had quickly become a heart-wrenching confessional over her recent marriage breakdown. Jake could tell her initial problem wasn’t the main issue, but he hadn’t been expecting this. With new clients it was impossible to know what Pandora’s box lay in store for him to unpack until they volunteered key information. Consequently, he had spent the past thirty minutes feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Of course he knew how she felt: part of him wholeheartedly identified with Joanie Viners’ wish to be reconciled with her ex. Jess had dug her roots deep into his heart: he couldn’t remove them as easily as she appeared to be able to.
‘Then what do I do?’
Jake took a moment to regain his professional composure. Joanie wasn’t paying one hundred and fifty dollars an hour for him to indulge his own neuroses. ‘You have to start looking forward. The mind is a powerful tool, but it can’t influence the way anyone thinks apart from you. I would love to tell you that you can make somebody want you back in their life, but it just isn’t the case.’
‘What if I want it to be? What if I can’t think of anything else?’
Jake sighed. ‘Have you always defined yourself by the success or failure of your relationships?’
Joanie stared at him, debating whether to be offended by this or not. ‘I – I don’t know …’
‘Then where do you source your self-esteem?’
‘I guess from what I do …’
‘For yourself or for others?’
Joanie blinked. ‘I’m not a selfish person, Doctor.’
‘I’m not suggesting you are. But how often do you feel good about yourself because of something you’ve done purely for you?’
‘Hardly ever. But I don’t understand how this applies to my divorce.’
Jake put down his notepad. ‘If you only ever feel good about yourself because of something you do, you never learn to accept yourself for who you are. You feel the need to justify your existence by what you can give to other people, because who you are doesn’t carry as much weight in your mind. Therefore, Bill cutting you out of his life implies that what you did for him – for example, ignoring his lies and turning a blind eye to his infidelity – wasn’t good enough for him to want your marriage to succeed.’
Joanie began to cry, her sobs reverberating around the office. Jake handed her the box of tissues he always kept nearby. ‘I … don’t feel good enough. If I was, he wouldn’t have looked to other women, would he?’
Jake’s heart went out to his client. Her words resonated with him; he had gone through the same conversation in his head since Jessica walked. It was a natural instinct, the human mind invariably prone to accept blame, rather than appreciate its lack of power over anyone else’s decisions.
‘Your husband made his own decisions and there was nothing you could have done to change his behaviour. Much as we’d like to, none of us can control whether someone else loves us or not. What we can control, however, is how we view ourselves. How we talk to ourselves. Where we draw our sense of wellbeing from. I propose we start to work on making Joanie Viners love herself for who she is, not what she can or can’t do. What do you think?’
Joanie nodded, dabbing her eyes. ‘I like that.’
‘Good. You did good today. The hardest part is identifying what needs to be addressed. From here on in, you’ll start to feel more positive. Same time next week?’
Desiree was waiting by the consulting room door with a hot cup of coffee as Joanie left. Jake accepted it gratefully: his brain hurt and caffeine was the only thing that could help.
‘Thank you.’
‘You look like you need it.’
Jake winced. ‘That session was a little too close for comfort.’
‘Oh, her divorce? I should have warned you, sorry.’
So much for client confidentiality … ‘How did you know about that?’
Desiree observed him as if he’d just asked her what colour the sidewalk was. ‘Don’t you read the society pages? Bill Viners’ divorce is all over them. He’s paying thirty million dollars to Joanie to end their marriage. He hired one of the best lawyers and they were trying to get him to annul the pre-nup. But he refused and offered her over half his fortune.’
‘Um, wow …’
‘You ask me, that rat’s after getting his reputation back. I
f he looks benevolent now, maybe the media will forget his cheating lies.’ She sucked her teeth disapprovingly. ‘Ain’t gonna work, of course. But at least that poor woman gets what’s owed to her.’
Jake took a gulp of coffee, wincing as the heat prickled his throat. ‘Sure. Because money solves everything.’
Horrified at her insensitivity, Desiree held up her hands. ‘Forgive me, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think—’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Jake’s head had begun to throb. He sat down in the reception area and wished he’d brought a packet of Advil to work today.
‘But I have to. There I was, spouting off about divorce when you’re …’ She sat down beside him and patted his knee. ‘How is that going?’
‘I have a meeting with my wife’s lawyer next Tuesday. It won’t be the highlight of my week.’ He had told Bea the practice was keeping him away, but in reality he was trying to process both his unexpected emotions caused by the birthday party and the most recent letter from Jessica’s lawyer, calling him to the first ‘commodities discussion’. He couldn’t think of both and still function with his packed client schedule; it was easier to put a temporary distance between him and Bea while he dealt with everything else. She was his friend: she would understand.
‘Until I know how I feel about her, I can’t move on.’
‘Oh, Jake …’
A heavy ball of nausea dropped in Jake’s stomach as he realised he had given voice to his thoughts. ‘I mean, I—’
‘Shh. No need to explain.’ Desiree was speaking to him like a mother to a child, an approach that did nothing to comfort Jake.
‘But you don’t understand—’
‘I’m beginning to. You have unfinished business with her.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘And you don’t know whether you can accept the way things have been between you.’
Jake looked at his PA with a new appreciation. She had worked all of that out, just from what he’d said? He knew she was perceptive, but this was a new level. ‘She said that’s what she wants, but I’m not so sure. The last time we met I felt something there between us. It isn’t what we agreed, but how can I carry on until I know for sure?’
‘You care about her,’ Desiree said gently. ‘You’ve invested so much in your relationship.’
‘I wouldn’t call it a relationship …’
‘Maybe not now, but the potential is still there. I know you psychiatrists say you can’t make somebody care for you, but what if she’s feeling the same way? What if she’s scared to go there, believing that you’re OK with the way things are?’
Forgetting the professional distance he had tried so hard to keep between him and Desiree, Jake responded to her questions. It was good to be able to talk about his feelings for Bea with someone who wouldn’t judge him. Avoiding specific details, he talked with her about the frustration he felt; that the possibility for more was just out of reach.
‘Hey, Doc, we all want what we can’t have.’
‘I know. And this could just be a case of wanting the impossible. So why am I hoping she’ll reconsider her decision?’
‘Well, you’re the expert. But here’s what I know: hoping is what makes us human. Even if every other voice around us is screaming that we’re wrong. When my boy’s father walked out I hoped for him to come back. For years. Now you could say that man deserved no second chances, no such hope. And I would agree with you. But we’d been in love once: I couldn’t shake the hope he might turn up at our door again one day.’
Jake was surprised by Desiree’s candidness. She had shared few details about her own life until now, save that she had a nine-year-old son and had raised him by herself. ‘And now?’
Desiree rolled her eyes. ‘Well, of course my hope didn’t come true. I just learned he was the no-good bum everyone else said he was. But that doesn’t mean I was wrong to hope for better.’
‘So where does that leave me?’
‘Still believing. Being true to yourself beyond all else. And if your wife has any sense, she’ll see her husband still loves her and call off the divorce.’
Every muscle in Jake’s body tensed. His wife? Too late, he realised that Desiree thought his conflicted feelings were towards Jessica, not Bea. And now he saw that, he kicked himself. Of course she would have thought that! Their conversation had begun with the mention of Joanie Viners’ divorce: Desiree must have assumed Jake was struggling with losing Jess. How could he have made such a fundamental error?
I can’t explain it all to her now. She won’t understand …
‘Thanks,’ he said, reasoning that the best way to extract himself from the conversation was to allow his PA to think her advice had been helpful. In a way, it had; even if, when he returned to his consulting room and closed the door, his thoughts were as confused as ever.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Hudson River Books, 8th Avenue, Brooklyn
Bea stared at the official-looking letter and sat down heavily in the bookstore office chair. She couldn’t make sense of the words on the page: they appeared to dance as her brain struggled to control them.
We are writing to inform you that your company accounts have not been filed for the previous tax year. The matter has been referred to our investigations unit and you should expect a visit from an IRS representative in the next four weeks. Please be aware that defaulting on your company accounts is a federal offence and liable to significant fines or even imprisonment.
Should you feel this has occurred in error, or wish to re-submit your account data for the year stated above, please call us …
There had to have been some kind of mistake: Russ had always kept a tight ship when it came to accounts. Every year he handed the stack of books to Frank, their trusted accountant, and he filed the company accounts with the IRS. They paid what was due and everything was settled. But now she thought of it, the IRS statement had been late arriving this year, although Frank’s bill had already been paid.
Although it was only seven a.m., Bea immediately found Frank’s number and dialled it. If there had been a mix-up, he could still sort it out before the IRS man came to call. She waited for the ring tone, only to hear a message informing her that the number had been disconnected. Starting to panic, she called Frank’s home number. The same message played back.
Frantic with worry now, she called Russ.
A sleepy voice answered. ‘It’s too early, Bea.’
‘We have a problem,’ Bea said, her voice shaking. ‘I need you to get here as soon as you can.’
‘Are you serious? I haven’t had breakfast yet …’
Bea’s nerves switched to anger. ‘I don’t care!’ she yelled. ‘Just get here, now!’
Twenty minutes later, the bookstore door flew open and a thunder-faced Russ marched in. ‘This’d better be important,’ he stormed. ‘I don’t appreciate being summoned into work. I’m an equal partner in this store, you know, not your intern!’
Bea held up the letter. ‘The IRS says they never received our end-of-year accounts. I tried calling Frank, but his home and office numbers are both disconnected. I can’t reach him. What are we going to do?’
Russ paled, his fury gone. ‘Hell, Bea, I …’ He dropped his head. ‘I should have told you.’
Feeling sick, Bea stared at him. ‘Told me what? Did you know about this?’
Russ dropped his messenger bag by the coffee counter. He couldn’t look at her as he spoke. ‘Frank disappeared three months ago. I only found out because one of his other clients contacted me trying to find him. Turns out he’s taken all of our money and skipped the state, maybe even the country.’
‘You knew all this and you didn’t think to tell me?’ Bea didn’t know whether to burst into tears or tear Russ limb from limb. ‘We’re equal partners, Russ – as you were so ready to point out when you arrived. You said everything was fine with the accounts – you told me not to worry. Why did you keep this from me?’
‘Because I thought I could han
dle it,’ he replied, still avoiding her stare. ‘But the truth is, I can’t. The accounts are a mess. I have invoices unaccounted for and hundreds of dollars of spending with no receipts.’
‘I don’t believe this.’ The room began to spin and Bea leaned against the counter to steady herself. After all their hard work and everything they had invested in the business, a huge fine could finish them. What would become of Bea’s dreams of success? She struggled to contain her emotions as the awful prospect hit home. ‘I thought this year was our best yet. What happens if we can’t sort this out? We can’t afford an IRS fine – or worse. This could destroy everything we’ve worked for.’
‘I know. But it won’t come to that, I promise.’
‘How? Have you found another accountant to help us?’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘Then how are we going to get out of this? Because I don’t see you dealing with it!’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
Fuming, Bea tried to rein in her thoughts. ‘Don’t say anything. We don’t have any time left to waste on this. Go home and fetch the account books. Then after we close tonight we’ll start work on them. In the meantime, I’m going to find a professional who can help us. Hopefully without stealing our money and catching the first flight to Rio.’
For the next few hours, Bea worked her way through the Yellow Pages, calling accountant after accountant. But the short notice, coupled with an unwillingness to become involved with a business under IRS investigation, led to a pile of dead-ends. Real panic was beginning to set in: and in a last-ditch effort to solve the problem, Bea called someone she prayed would take pity on the bookstore.
‘Hello, Dr Jake Steinmann?’
‘Jake, it’s Bea. I’m so sorry to call you, but I didn’t know what else to do.’
I'll Take New York Page 23
