A Very Good Life

by Lynn Steward

  He was within six blocks of 77 Park Avenue when he decided that he would take everyone out to eat. The popular folksinger Mary O’Dowd was playing at the Irish Pavilion. It would be best to have everyone focus their attention on the comely and melodic O’Dowd rather than on his nervous demeanor. It would be a classic case of a magician’s use of misdirection, and he needed a bit of magic right now to conceal thoughts he found overwhelming. Until he could get Dana’s family to the Pavilion, however, he would try his best to appear relaxed and use a little humor. He would pour a scotch, talk with his in-laws, and pretend to be enjoying the holiday season.

  He turned a corner and thought yet again of how Janice’s lips had felt against his. They’d been warm and inviting, and the kiss had not been unwelcome. Its clandestine nature had caused his heart to beat faster—had caused him to feel alive in a way that he hadn’t for several years. Maybe Janice was right. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He wanted it all. And it wasn’t as if a fling had been his idea. The affair was being forced upon him. Wasn’t it up to all good husbands to protect their families and jobs by whatever means possible?

  Of course it was. Deciding the matter was as simple as looking up precedents in case law. His legal mind told him he was on solid footing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dana found her apartment quiet except for the barking of Wills, who met her at the front door, anxious for his evening walk. Using a different leash, she took him down Park Avenue for a few minutes and then returned to her living room to look at the tree again and recall the pleasant excursion to Pennsylvania with the eccentric but loveable Nina. She thought of Nina’s words from earlier in the day: we know what a determined woman can accomplish, don’t we? Dana would not be fazed by Bea or Helen on Monday morning. She’d done good work and would continue to do so. And she was determined to find a way to keep the teen contest from becoming a farce.

  Phil and Virginia arrived fifteen minutes later, and they brought a special guest: Dana’s younger brother Matthew. He was a wiry young man who wore his thick brown hair over his ears, and his tan stood in stark contrast to the fair complexions of his parents and sister.

  “Matthew!” Dana cried as she gave him a hug. “I didn’t think we’d see you until Christmas.”

  Brett and Dana were with the McGarry family on Thanksgiving.

  “I’m meeting some friends downtown later this evening,” he replied, “so I thought I’d tag along with Mom and Dad and join you for dinner. I turned in my term papers early, so I don’t head back to school until next Saturday. I’ll be at your party Thursday night.” He turned as Wills’ barking demanded his attention.

  “Wills!” Matthew exclaimed. “I’m glad to see you, too!” Matthew dropped to his knees and began playing with the excited spaniel.

  “Uncle John hasn’t called you, has he?” Virginia asked Dana.

  Dana frowned. “No. Why?”

  “Because he’s getting more upset by the day over Johnny marrying Suzanne Farnsworth. The Episcopalian ceremony is like a stake through his heart, plus Suzanne sent out the wedding invitations earlier than expected. Uncle John is beside himself.”

  “He was hoping that you might speak to Johnny,” Phil added. “Uncle John isn’t even sure he’s going to attend the wedding.”

  “That’s awful, but what could I possibly say to Johnny?” asked Dana. “He’s a grown man. I’m not going to get involved in his affairs, although I can understand Uncle John’s feelings all too well. I don’t think he’s missed Sunday mass in his entire life, and he’s in the pews on weekdays as well whenever he has a chance. And let’s don’t forget, Mom, that you insisted that Brett and I have a high mass with three priests to ensure that the marriage was going to be rock solid, as if the ceremony were an insurance policy. I feel sorry for poor Uncle John, but I don’t see how I could be of help.”

  “That’s just what I told John,” Phil said. “No good can come from interfering with Johnny’s plans. All that meddling would turn into a soap opera.”

  “You could send him to Hawaii for a couple of weeks,” Matthew suggested, laughing. “I know a few girls on the beach who might make him think twice.”

  “I don’t think so, little brother,” Dana said, kissing Matthew on the cheek.

  Not surprisingly, Virginia privately thought Matthew had a good idea. She sighed as she thought of her daughter’s wedding eight years earlier. She had indeed arranged for a solemn ceremony in the Catholic Church to impress upon Brett the seriousness of the vows he was taking. To this day, she wasn’t sure that he had gotten the message. In retrospect, she might not have minded if someone had taken him on an extended tropical vacation like the one Matthew was jokingly recommending.

  Dana noted the concerned look on her mother’s face but decided not to disclose details of her dinner at Cheshire Cheese the previous evening or their discussion about a weekend home in Bedford. It was a case of slow and steady wins the race. Brett needed to make partner first, and the romantic getaway at the Inn at Phillips Mill was still more than a month away.

  “And just where is the other half of this rock solid marriage?” Virginia asked.

  Dana rolled her eyes at her mother’s wording and intonation.

  Wills barked as he ran to the front door, anticipating Brett’s arrival.

  “What’s that saying from the Bible?” Matthew said. “The master cometh at an hour you least expect?”

  “Behave yourself,” Dana told her brother playfully.

  Brett came through the door and saw Dana’s family assembled. The observant Virginia noticed that he had a smile on his face even before he’d seen his guests, as if he’d been preparing for his entrance.

  “Matthew!” Brett said, giving the young man a hug. “What a surprise! And look at your tan while the rest of us are bundled up and walking through snow storms. Hey, does anyone want a drink?”

  “I’m going to open a bottle of wine in a moment,” Dana said. “Something special in honor of Matthew.”

  “I’m going to have a scotch,” Brett said. “It’ll warm me up quicker.”

  Dana poured everyone a glass of wine while Brett hung up his topcoat, followed the others into the living room, and poured a tumbler of scotch. He circled the table Andrew had provided as he inspected the tree. “Is that what they call a Hanukkah bush?” he asked.

  Brett looked around the room, but only Matthew had rewarded the remark with a chuckle, and he was receiving a sharp elbow from his sister as he did so.

  “It’s a Concolor fir,” Dana informed her husband. “We’ve never had one before, and since we had to use Nina’s Beetle to bring it home, I decided to do something a little different this year.”

  “Well, it’s a wee bit on the small side,” Brett said, wrinkling his nose and tilting his head. “Why don’t we get a bigger tree and use this somewhere else in the apartment?”

  “I like the tree,” Dana said, turning to look at the fir again. “I think it looks just fine where it is.”

  “Oh, it’s a beautiful tree, honey! It’s just that I thought we’d preserve a little tradition by putting something a little taller here in the living room—something that really says Christmas.”

  The word “preserve” caused Brett’s forced smile to disappear momentarily. Janice had directed sharp barbs at him for trying to preserve his proper, staid way of life, and he was about to acquiesce to her remedy for removing himself from “McGarry landmark status.” He realized that attempting to preserve tradition was a visceral response to his anticipated fling with Janice.

  “I think that maybe it’s time to start some new traditions,” Dana said, recalling the time she’d taken to pick out the tree with Nina and Andrew because Brett had to work. “We’ll be surrounded by Christmas tree farms in Bedford and perhaps then you can spare an hour so we can pick out a tree together.”

  Dana had decided the previous evening to remember how hard Brett was working to make partner and to be more understanding of his work sch
edule. But did he have to criticize the tree within five minutes of stepping into the apartment? If he wanted a bigger tree, then he should have gone to Bucks County.

  “Bedford?” Phil said. “Are you two moving?”

  Looking confused, Brett sipped his scotch.

  “That’s pretty cool,” Matthew remarked. “Make sure there’s a spare bedroom for a marine biologist.”

  “I propose a toast to the Multicolor fir!” Brett said, reclaiming his smile.

  “It’s a Concolor fir,” Dana said, now growing visibly irritated. “And no, Dad, we’re not moving. We just think Bedford is the perfect spot for a weekend home.”

  “Bedford?” Brett said. “Oh yes—the country. Of course! Let’s raise a toast to a future home in Bedford!”

  Dana was silently fuming. Brett obviously didn’t seem to recall their conversation at Cheshire Cheese. Memories of the day’s earlier triumphs were fading quickly.

  “I think it’s time to get dinner started,” Virginia suggested nervously. Her daughter was upset, and there was obviously a backstory involved in the exchange between Dana and Brett that the Martignettis weren’t privy to.

  “Good idea,” said the unflappable Phil. “I’m starving.”

  “I’ve got frozen crepes ready to bake,” Dana said.

  “Wait, honey!” Brett said. “It’s been a long day, and I don’t want you to have to cook tonight. Let’s eat at the Irish Pavilion. We can see Mary O’Dowd, the Irish folksinger. We’ll have a great time. We can even ask Paddy FitzGibbon to show us a catering menu for the party next week.”

  “I love O’Dowd,” Matthew said. “but she’s not playing until next Saturday.”

  “And Andrew and I have already taken care of the menu for next week,” Dana said. “We’re using Lenôtre.”

  “We could always do French next year,” Brett said. “Paddy’s such a good friend and—”

  “I think you’ve been outvoted,” Matthew declared good-naturedly while patting Brett on the back.

  “The crepes are now in the oven,” Virginia announced a minute later. “No Pavilion tonight.”

  “Then I propose another toast,” Brett said, realizing that his efforts to appear jovial were falling flat. “To family and new traditions!”

  Everyone raised their glasses except Dana, who turned sharply and headed to the kitchen. Brett, she thought, was acting strangely. Why did he try so hard to impress her parents whenever they were together?

  “Matthew,” Brett said as he sat on the sofa, “tell me how the surfing is on Oahu these days.” It was the only thing he could think of to talk about.

  “Pretty cool,” Matthew said. “The waves are some of the best in the world.”

  Brett nodded and sipped his scotch. “Glad to hear it, Matthew. And I’m happy you could join us tonight.”

  Virginia glanced at Phil, and in their unspoken vocabulary, Phil knew exactly what she was saying: with Brett, nothing had changed.

  • • •

  Dinner was peppered with small talk, and Brett confined his remarks to asking questions about what others were saying rather than trying to initiate any conversation of his own. Dessert was served, Virginia helped clean up the kitchen and dining room, and the Martignettis left for Long Island at ten-thirty. The evening had come to an abrupt halt.

  Dana decided to take Wills out despite Brett’s protest that he would be happy to do the final chore of the evening. “I need some fresh air,” she said tersely.

  Brett, who’d had wine with dinner, poured himself another scotch. He wasn’t drunk, but he’d forfeited complete sobriety by the middle of dinner. He was standing in front of the Concolor fir when Dana returned.

  “I think you made a great selection,” he said. “We’ll serve French hors d’oeuvres in front of the pisher tree.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dana asked, feeling her anger from earlier in the evening resurface. “You’ve had entirely too much to drink.”

  Brett laughed, realizing that she didn’t understand his meaning. “Pisher,” he said. “Not pisser. It’s Yiddish for small.”

  “It’s Yiddish for insignificant,” Dana snapped back, “which is exactly how you’re making me feel! In case you haven’t noticed, I happen to like the tree.”

  “Let’s just forget all this,” Brett said with a rather silly look on his face. “The goose is cooked.”

  “Whatever you say, Brett,” Dana said dismissively as she started climbing the stairs to the bedroom.

  Brett quickly chased after her. “Just a stupid joke, honey! Goose, like Christmas goose. Get it?”

  “You got the stupid part right,” Dana replied. She suddenly began to cry, realizing that she had been so distracted for most of the evening that she hadn’t even told her parents about being invited by Rosamond Bernier to the after-party at Café des Artistes.

  Brett put his scotch down in the bedroom and wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulder. “You’re right, Dana,” he confessed, using his best apologetic tone of voice. “Guilty as charged. I’ve had too much to drink.” He paused. “Say, I forgot to mention that I picked up your wine journals today. They’re in the downstairs hall.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. I had some time after my meeting and thought I’d save you the trouble.”

  Dana wiped her cheeks with a tissue. “That was . . . very thoughtful. Thank you.” She paused for several seconds. “Brett, were you serious last night about getting a weekend home, or were you just trying to placate me?”

  “Of course I was serious,” Brett answered without missing a beat. “It would be a wonderful place to go on weekends and holidays—and a great place to raise a family. And I’m sorry if I appeared insensitive this evening. Please forgive me.”

  Dana turned to face her husband. He had gone a step further and pronounced the magic word: family. “Did you have a hard day?” she asked. “Is that why you’ve been so tense all evening?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “You have no idea just how hard it was.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Brett shook his head. “Not really. I’d rather go to bed and make love.”

  An hour later, Dana felt drowsy. As she’d told Andrew that afternoon, Christmas could be stressful, but the day had ended on a good note. Brett had drunk too much, but he was still serious about their future. She fell asleep with peace of mind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After making a call on Sunday morning from the library, Brett discovered Dana in the living room tying red plaid bows to adorn the Christmas tree. She was clearly in love with the Concolor fir.

  “Are we still going to decorate the tree tonight?” Dana asked, hoping her husband wouldn’t have to review legal briefs before the work week began.

  “The tree will definitely be decorated today,” Brett said confidently. “And it’s going to look nicer than you could possibly imagine.”

  Dana was pleased that her husband’s sincerity and thoughtfulness from their late night talk had carried into Sunday. “Aren’t you bright and chipper this morning? Would you like to come to mass?”

  Brett held out his arms to indicate that he was dressed for squash. “Next Sunday, honey. I promise. Johnny and I already have a match scheduled for this morning.”

  Dana stopped tying the ribbons and looked across the room, absorbed in thought. “It’s a shame Johnny doesn’t want to attend church anymore. He’s breaking Uncle John’s heart.” Dana proceeded to relate the trouble John Cirone was having because of Johnny’s upcoming Episcopalian ceremony and the early mailing of the wedding invitations. “Don’t tell Johnny I mentioned any of this,” she added. “My parents and I have decided to stay out of it.”

  “Mum’s the word,” Brett said, picking up the leather bag that held his racquet.

  He kissed Dana and left for the New York Athletic Club. He needed to work off more than a little stress because of events in the past twenty-four hours.

  Dana found it peculiar that Br
ett didn’t take time for his honey bun and cup of coffee. Perhaps it was the scotch from the previous evening, she thought, although she couldn’t recall any time in eight years when he’d passed up his favorite morning pleasure because he’d had a couple of extra drinks. Also, he wouldn’t be playing squash if he had even the slightest hangover. The morning was sunny and bright, and she decided to continue tying ribbons for the tree.

  • • •

  Brett quickly realized that Johnny was definitely off his game. He was losing badly, and Brett couldn’t help but notice that the younger Cirone was swinging hard, as if he were angry, but without any finesse or strategy. Brett took the match easily, after which he turned to his partner. “Another?”

  “No, not today,” Johnny replied with little emotion in his voice. “As you can tell, I’m just going through the motions.”

  In the locker room, Johnny toweled off and walked over to Brett, who was unlacing his sneakers.

  “I guess Dana’s told you how badly my engagement to Suzanne is upsetting my father.”

  “Actually, she did mention something in passing this morning. An Episcopalian service, an invitation snafu—something like that.”

  “Yeah, but there’s a lot going on besides that. My dad’s moving to the city because the Metropolitan Opera Board is working overtime with budget deficits and other problems. I don’t think I’ll get a minute’s peace.”

  “Sure you will,” Brett said reassuringly. “Just make sure he doesn’t move into the same building as you and Suzanne.”

  Johnny shook his head and sighed deeply. “I wish it were that easy. Say, would you mind looking at some papers for me? I could use a little legal advice if it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

  Brett waved off the remark. “No problem, Johnny. I’d be happy to.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Johnny said, sitting beside Brett on a bench near the lockers. He reached into his bag and produced a manila envelope. “It’s a financial report, and my name is listed inside.”