by Liz Durano
“I promise, Kathy. Things will be different this time.”
“How different?”
“For one, I have a new lawyer, Phoebe Taylor, and once the court allows the change in legal representation, I’ll be doing everything right this time. I’m not giving anything away that is rightfully mine.”
There is silence on the line, and I hear Kathy exhale. “That is the best thing I’ve ever heard coming from you since all this craziness began with the hospital and Jeff. Will you need a place to stay? With your ex living in the apartment with his fiancee, I wouldn’t think the Hamptons would be ideal, not unless you plan to do everything from there.”
“No, I’m not. Do you think you can find me an apartment? It doesn’t have to be big. It can even be a sublet. It’s temporary. A studio will do.”
“Are you sure? You know how small studios are here in Manhattan. It’ll be the size of a closet compared to what you’re used to—”
“Yes, I’m sure. As soon as the divorce is final, Jeff and I will have split the properties equitably, and that’s all I want. I can decide on buying my place then, but only then. Right now, I have some funds available, but I don’t need a huge place.”
“There’s a studio that’s opening up in a week or so on my floor.“
Kathy lives in a two-bedroom apartment in the Upper East Side, a few blocks from where Jeff and I lived. All I remember is that she lives in an old building, but one that is well-maintained. But I can’t be choosy right now, not when my priorities lie in focusing all my energies on my divorce and the hospital.
“If she doesn’t mind such short notice, I’d love to take it. Do you know the owner?”
“Oh, yes. Riley’s my next-door neighbor. Sweet, sweet girl. She just moved in with her boyfriend, some big-shot Hollywood actor who lives in the West Village,” Kathy continues. “She was just telling me how she’d like to rent it out, but she didn’t want to take out an ad. She doesn’t want to do those short-term rental things. She’d get in trouble with the co-op board if she did.”
“Are they okay with a sublet?” I can feel my heart race as I think of the possibilities that await me at home. Whether it’s the size of a closet or not, it’s a new beginning which is exactly what I need right now.
“They are, and you’d probably just need to sign some temporary lease, but you won’t need to get approved by the board or anything. I’ll ask her for you, and if she says no, I’ll keep looking. She’s a very sweet girl, really quiet and all that,” Kathy pauses, before chuckling as she continues, “until she started seeing this actor.”
I chuckle. Dax and I engaged in a lot of it, and fortunately, we were too far away from civilization to get any complaints. “Noisy sex?”
She snorts. “You got that right. Right through the walls, and to think that half of the floor is deaf because we’re all too damn old as it is, but their sexy times go beyond just noise. I swear the walls rattle.”
“You’re exaggerating, Kathy.” I can’t help laughing, the memories of the many positions I tried out with Dax coming back to me. This isn’t going to be easy. I miss him.
“Not when you live next to her, I’m not. But thankfully, it’s been quiet since she moved in with her boyfriend. But don’t get me wrong. I love that girl to bits.”
“So can you ask her as soon as you can? I’ll take care of the bank stuff the moment you let me know if she says yes.” I switch on my headlights. Behind me, I can see the sunset from my rearview mirror, glorious hues of red, orange and yellow. I already miss the lazy afternoons I sat behind the glass windows of the Pearl to watch the sunset free from the insects buzzing around me outside. How quickly everything would turn dark and then, the stars would come out, filling the night sky.
“I will,” Kathy says before pausing for a few moments. “I’m glad you’re coming back to fight him, Dr. James. And the hospital, too…”
“Thank you.”
“What Peletierre did was still wrong, and if what you told me in your email is true—that you’re coming back to fight the hospital, too—then good for you. If anyone should go down in all this, it’s not you. It’s Dr. Gardner and his poker buddy, Peletierre.”
And his country club buddy, Frank.
I sigh. I don’t really want to get worked up while I’m driving, and not when I need to get off the road soon. “Thank you, Kathy. I’ll call you when I check in, alright?”
As I hang up, I can’t help but feel sad again, the idea of another night without Dax next to me killing whatever happiness I’d felt just minutes earlier. But I know I’ll get used to it. I’d told myself when this all began that Dax was just a distraction, and I was right. And as much as it hurt to hear him say the words he said to me, I’m secretly glad he did. Dax made it much easier for me to leave him.
Self-preservation at its finest.
Chapter 24
Dax
I know Dad is in the workshop long before he makes his presence known by clearing his throat. He’s a big man, imposing in every way, only to surprise people who assume he must be some retired football star when they find out that he’s a stockbroker. But he did play football in his college years, earned a scholarship, and played his cards right till he graduated top of his class. He owned a brokerage company with offices close to the Twin Towers, and after they fell, he vowed to stay close to his family in Taos, even if it meant commuting as often as he could from New York to Santa Fe, chartering flights if he had to. It takes a real man to commit to his family like that, and I appreciate that. I always wondered why he didn’t just sell the company after 9/11, but Mama told me she made him promise her that he wouldn’t. Without his business, we wouldn’t have been able to afford the luxuries we grew up with.
It’s been two days since Harlow left, and I’m now back in Flagstaff. I waited till everyone got back from brunch that day before telling them I was heading back home. I didn’t give them time to talk me out of it. I was packed and ready to go, and without any explanation, I left. They didn’t need one. The news that Gabe had run into Harlow in Albuquerque traveled fast. As fast as the news spread around Taos that I was seeing an older married woman, the gossip that she had left the following day traveled just as quickly.
I can never forget the disappointment on Dyami and Nana’s faces but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, and the last thing I wanted them to see was a lovesick Dax who fucked up big time and lost the woman he fell in love with. I needed to regroup, but I couldn’t do it at the Pearl, not when everything reminded me of Harlow.
“Nana called.” Dad’s voice is a deep baritone, one of the traits I inherited from the man, along with his height, although my coloring is more like Mama’s, New Mexican all the way. “She’s worried about you, Dax. So is everyone else, even the guys here.”
I continue planing the top edges of the wooden box I made that afternoon. I created the lid last, and now, it just needs to lay flat on its base which isn’t as even as I’d like. I feel my muscles tense, not from what I’m doing but from what my father just said. From the corner of my eye, I see him pull up a chair and sit down.
“Why? Are they worried I’m going to hurt myself?”
“Should they be?”
That’s Daniel Drexel for you, a man of a few words. He’s been here since the day before I drove to Taos, thinking I had the Pearl all to myself only to find a passed out woman in my bed.
“Shouldn’t you be back in New York, Dad? I’ve been back two days, and you’re usually gone by now.” I’m being rude, but I can’t help it. There’s a reason why I’m working late at the workshop long after everyone has gone home. Right now, I just want to be alone with my thoughts and complete my little project. It takes my mind off Harlow even though I haven’t thought of anything else but her since she left.
“I get it, son. She hurt you.”
I set the hira kanna next to me on the floor. It’s where I’ve been sitting all afternoon, surrounded by wood shavings and the rest of my tools, a wooden mall
et, and a chisel that took me longer to sharpen than use. It’s how my mentor, Takeshi-san, worked, on the floor so he could use his feet and legs if he had to for leverage. He’d hold down a piece of wood with his foot as he chiseled, measured and put together the joinery, and it’s just how he taught me, too. Just as it seems to root him to the earth, it grounds me, too, putting me in the zone of creativity, even if I’m only building a simple box without a single nail, screw or even glue. I don’t do this for all projects, not when my company employs fifteen other woodworkers adept with modern machinery and the latest 3D technology. I only go back to the basics when I need to think—or create something personal, like the box in front of me.
“I’m all right, Dad. Really, I am. You know I get over these things fast.” Yup, like a trip to the bar and then fucking some girl for the night without knowing her name. I don’t want to do that now, though, not even when my phone has been buzzing with messages from women who just found out that I’m back in town.
Dad is quiet as he watches me pick up the lid sitting next to me and place it over the box to check for fit. It slides into the hand-chiseled grooves perfectly. By the time this rectangular box is done, it will have something hand-carved on top of it, one that hopefully represents its receiver, and then stained with a finish meant only to preserve the exotic wood I’ve chosen.
“Did he bring her flowers?”
I look up from my work, surprised. “Who?”
“Dr. Gardner. Did he bring his wife flowers when he showed up at the Pearl?”
“How’d you know that he was there? I didn’t tell anyone.”
“He ended up at the Villiers’ place first, thinking it was the Pearl. Just walked in like he owned the place, and Sawyer almost shot his head off.”
“Shit.” Just like he walked into the Pearl like he fucking owned it, too, calling Harlow baby. “Is Sawyer okay?”
“He’s fine. It’s Jeff Gardner’s head everyone should be worried about, but at least, the brothers had a good laugh. Todd ran into Sarah at the supermarket and told her,” Dad says. “But you didn’t answer my question, Dax. Flowers? Chocolates? Did Dr. Gardner bring any with him when he went into the Pearl looking for his wife?”
I hate how Dad enunciates the word, wife. “They’re getting a divorce, you know.”
“I know that, but until that divorce is final, she’s still his wife.” Dad enunciates the word again, and it hits me right in the solar plexus, made even more painful with the word that precedes it. His. But I force myself back to Dad’s question, and I wonder if Todd was watching the exchange between Jeff and me the entire time. Maybe that damn telescope is good for something after all.
“No, he didn’t bring anything…” My voice fades as I realize the real purpose of Dad’s question. It’s not out of curiosity. He knows the answer already.
“If Dr. James left you, it’s for a reason that has nothing to do with you.”
And there you have it, the real reason he’s here to talk to me, even if they have it all wrong. I fucked up first, and she left. Her divorce had always been there, sure, but I still screwed up. It’s also a harsh reminder that nothing is ever a secret around Taos, and Dad knows that Harlow wasn’t just a tenant to me. “What else did Nana tell you?”
“Nothing I wouldn’t have heard from everyone else… that you’re seeing some surgeon from New York. It didn’t take me long to connect the dots, certainly not after Sarah told me who showed up at the Pearl while you were there.” He pauses, takes a deep breath and exhales. “Nana also said that there are certain things best discussed between two grown men.”
I set the box aside and get up from the floor, dusting the sawdust from my shirt and jeans. “So what are these ‘certain things’ that we need to discuss, Dad? Are you going to tell me that they’re right? That she’s still married to that jerk, so I should stay away?”
“Exactly.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, great. You, too. Why won’t any of you give me a fucking break?”
Dad gets up from his chair. While I stand a good inch over six feet, he’s five inches taller than me and burly, a trait Sarah inherited while I got Mama’s leaner build. “Because you can’t afford this fucking break, or whatever you think this is, Dax. I don’t know what happened between you two, or how she ended up at the Pearl, of all places. But what I do know is that you can’t afford to get caught up in the middle of their divorce, not when it’s already as fucked up as it is. She also needs to take care of things on her end first before she thinks she can run out here and have fun with my son and drag him into her mess.”
“That’s not what happened—“
“Why do you think Jeff Gardner showed up at the Pearl? Do you really believe he ‘s there to get back together with her? Without a single bouquet or chocolates, or whatever it is we men would give some girl we want back so badly? Wouldn’t we give her the moon if we could? I know I would if it means I can have your Mama back.”
“He was hoping to catch us together,” I murmur. “Just like her lawyer found us together at the Pearl. He must have been the one who told Jeff where she was.”
“I don’t know why he was there, son, but whatever it was, it was important enough for him to fly out to New Mexico.”
“He wants her to give up her share of their Hamptons property like she gave up her share of their Manhattan—“
“It’s not your business, Dax, or anyone else’s,” Dad says, his hand on my shoulder. “That’s between them and their lawyers.”
I exhale. Of course, Dad is right, like he always is whenever I end up too adrift in my emotions. Harlow’s divorce is none of my business, and it’s not like I didn’t know it then before she and I ended up sleeping together. It’s why I stayed away after I called Cole if he could help her with recommendations finding a new lawyer. Yet here I am, getting caught up in her business like it’s my own.
“I’m not saying she’s a bad person, Dax,” he continues. “I don’t know her, but I know her reputation precedes her. She’s a good surgeon, with better bedside manners than most, definitely more than her husband. But she’s also in the middle of a divorce that she needs to take care on her own. The last thing she needs—“
“But what if she’s pregnant with my kid, Dad? I was stupid. I…”
Dad pauses, and I see his jaw clench. Along with Nana, he was there to pick up the pieces after I found out what Madison did. Sure, I was too young, and she thought me incapable to be a father to our child, but it still hurt knowing I had no choice in the matter. “Then she’s pregnant. But until then, you stay away and let her do what she needs to do. I know that box you just made is for her, and if you think you can send it to her now, please don’t. Start over, son. Start clean with Dr. James when she’s ready. If it’s meant to be, then it will happen. And if she’s pregnant, I know you’ll know what to do. Your Mama and I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Before I can say anything, Dad pulls me in a quick embrace and with a grin and a pat on the back, adds, “Since you’re so eager to get me out of here, my flight leaves in the morning. Can you drive me to the airport?”
*
Dad and I don’t speak about Harlow at all when I take him to the airport. For the first time since I got back, we talk business, like we always do when we’re not reminiscing about Mama or talking about family, like Dyami’s latest shenanigans. Dad is pleased with the new designs I’ve come up with, the orders we’ve recently completed and shipped, and my upcoming visit to New York in a few weeks.
For the last two years, a marketing firm has handled my visits to New York four times a year. I call them appearances, but Dad just calls it work. After all, I can’t hide in my workshop forever. With articles written about me every time my designs win an award, he wants everyone to know who I am. The fact that at twenty-seven, I’m considered a master woodworker is a huge deal for him. To him, men like me are a dying breed. It’s an accomplishment that wouldn’t have been possible if I’d attended college instead of me
ntoring under a master woodworker like Takeshi-san. So for one week four times a year, I meet with clients from nine in the morning till seven at night. They fight over schedule availability even when they know that their orders may not be completed for another year or two—even longer for freshly acquired woods that need to be aged first. Some wait, some don’t, but my production schedule is guaranteed for the next two years.
After my appointments, Dad used to take me to the private club as his guest, where he has his own bottle of cognac on the wall next to everyone else’s, their names spelling out the Who’s Who of Manhattan. He earned his place through hard work, handling investments of some of the richest people in the city. He was vetted there by real estate developer, Clint Caldwell III, whose wife, a former top model, introduced me to Madison. But Dad knows I prefer to hang out where I can let loose, like the Top of the Standard or Soho House in the Meatpacking District. Maybe one day I’ll be just like Dad, able to move between New York and the Southwest with ease, but I’m too New Mexican for that. It’s in my blood.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t hang with the likes of Dr. Jeff Gardner when I’m in New York. I’m not just some simple woodworker from Taos. I’m Dax Drexel, the man behind Takeshi-Drexel Woodworking & Designs, with a showroom right on Seventh Avenue and a client list filled with the country’s Who’s Who. I’m also a man who can’t let anything—or anyone—stop him. And until Harlow tells me she’s pregnant with my child, I’m moving on.
Chapter 25
Harlow
By the time I make it to New York three days later, it’s almost midnight. Not wanting to bother Kathy, I check in at the Standard and get a room with a view of the Hudson River and the High Line, an almost two-mile long public park that used to be a rail track that ran from 34th Street to St. John’s Park Terminal. I have all these grand plans of taking a walk in the morning, maybe even a quick run and a stop at the Whitney Museum of American Art, but I’m so exhausted that I sleep for fifteen hours straight.
