by Lynn Steward
“He did make some excellent points,” Jack conceded. “Hartlen Response may be taking a huge risk if we don’t protect our interests in the short term.”
“I tend to agree,” Patti said thoughtfully, “but I would have thought that he would bring such a proposal to Richard Patterson or Patrick Denner first rather than straight to us.”
“That did cross my mind, but maybe he’s just trying to be friendly. For all we know, Patrick may have told him to approach us since we’ve been reluctant to become part of a consortium thus far. This could be their counterproposal, with Brett sent as their point man since he’d already made our acquaintance.”
Patti sighed. “You could be right, but I just get a bad feeling when I’m around him.”
“Well, I’ve learned never to ignore your sixth sense. I’ll talk with Dad this evening about the proposal.”
Patti kissed Jack on the lips and then stepped back. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe coming down with something? You seem distracted.”
“I’m fine. I’m still a little shaken from the robbery here at the hotel. It’s not the best way to be introduced to New York City. I can’t believe the real estate agent told us residents don’t lock their doors in the co-op building we were in the other day. I won’t take any chances.”
Patti nodded her head. “I’ve had the exact same feeling, but I’m sure things will be okay. Change is always hard.”
“No argument there,” Jack said.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dana arrived at her office and saw Kim Sullivan already waiting for her. Kim, who had short brown hair, a petite frame, and warm brown eyes, was dressed in her Dominican Academy uniform.
“Thank you for getting here so quickly,” Dana said to Kim.
“Our housekeeper arranged for me to miss my last period, which was study hall.” Kim paused, clearly anxious. “What happened to my clothes? Are they the only ones that were affected? Is there time to make a new selection? I mean . . . do I still have a chance?”
Dana smiled reassuringly. “We’ve got plenty of outfits to choose from. In fact, new shipments came in Monday afternoon. A pipe burst in one of the fitting areas set up near the kitchen of Charleston Garden, where we will have the luncheon and fashion show. Unfortunately, the leak was aimed at your rack. Let’s go down to the Junior Department. I saw a red corduroy skirt you might like.”
Dana thought of the irony of Kim’s remark. Do I still have a chance? She was visibly upset even though Bob had clandestinely arranged for her to win. Dana, however, had clandestine plans of her own regarding the competition.
Dana laughed when she saw the suede fringe miniskirts. Helen could be a bear, but she was a bear who got results. Dana pitied the supplier who suffered Helen’s wrath when the shipment hadn’t arrived on time. The miniskirts caught the attention of Kim as well, who inhaled sharply as she ran her fingers tentatively along the brown suede.
“I . . . love these,” Kim said softly, as if she were afraid to be heard.
“Let’s find your size and try one on,” Dana said. “This is more fun than red corduroy.”
Kim lowered her head. “I don’t know. Maybe you should tell Lisa Gelber that the skirts are here. She came to the fitting yesterday looking for them because she saw the ad in Sunday’s Times. I know she’ll be upset when she sees me wearing one instead of her.”
“Lisa already made a great selection,” Dana said, “and I know she’s happy with her choices. Let’s see how the suede skirt looks on you. It’s a nice change from your uniform, and I think your parents will love you in it. “
Kim hesitated. “If they come to the luncheon, that is.”
Dana looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“Oh, they certainly plan to attend,” Kim replied. “It’s just that they’re both doctors. My mother does research in molecular biology. My dad is the head of the Children’s Eye Tumor Clinic at Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center. Our housekeeper Vera, who was my nanny, looks after me a lot since my mom works late pretty often and my father lectures out of town. But now . . .”
Dana waited for Kim to continue. The girl clearly wanted to share something disturbing.
Kim looked down as a tear formed in the corner of her eye. “But now my parents are divorcing. I’m trying to be strong, so I want to make them proud of me.”
Dana put her arm around Kim’s shoulder. “I know you will, Kim. Take everything one step at a time. Meanwhile, why don’t we get some ice cream at the restaurant upstairs? We can come back and finish the fitting later. I think you’ll like a tan poplin pantsuit I have in mind, and maybe a striped tunic sweater with a pleated skirt.”
Kim forced a smile. “Thanks, Mrs. McGarry.”
Dana quickly responded, “Please, call me Dana.”
Dana thought of the advice she’d given Kim: take one step at a time. It was the only way that she, too, was making it through the day.
• • •
Charleston Garden, on the eighth floor of B. Altman, was bordered on one side by the full façade of a Charleston-style mansion, complete with stately white columns that looked as if it could have been copied directly from the pages of Gone with the Wind. Murals on the other three walls simulated outdoor gardens. Dana and Kim got their ice cream and seated themselves at a table.
“Do you have siblings?” Dana asked, hoping Kim would continue to discuss her family situation since she was clearly worried.
For a brief moment, Dana felt as if she were talking to a daughter of her own in the distant future, and she realized how precious and delicate those times would be—and how important it was to get it right.
“No,” Kim answered. “It’s just the three of us. And Vera, of course, who’s part of the family. I know my parents and Vera are concerned about me.”
“Are you holding up okay?” Dana asked.
Kim shrugged. “I think so. But when we talk about it, I react differently to each of them. I’m calm and listen when my mother discusses the divorce, but it’s easier to tell my father of my sadness and my fears. The funny thing is that they’re so much alike and yet so far apart. If that makes any sense, that is.”
Dana thought of how different her own parents were from each other, although they had been able to build on their differences and turn them into strengths. Not all couples were so fortunate. Dana nodded. “Yep. Makes sense.”
“We really love each other,” Kim continued, “and no matter what, we’ll always be a family. Mom’s a very analytical person, devoted to her work, and she’s going to join the faculty of the University of Zurich to work on a cancer drug called interferon. I’m supposed to visit her for three months this summer in Switzerland.”
“Sounds pretty exciting,” Dana commented.
“I guess. But Mom will be working, and I won’t know anyone there. Vera’s coming with me, but I’ll miss my friends—and definitely my dad. We talk a lot. Sometimes I feel good simply because we’re together reading in our library at home.”
Dana knew exactly what Kim was describing. When she was growing up, being around Phil had always made Dana feel secure and safe, even if he didn’t say a single word.
“I read in the essay you submitted for the contest that you’re planning on pre-med when you get to college,” Dana said. “You certainly have the grades for it. Your parents must be very happy that you’re following in their footsteps.”
“Too happy,” Kim said while eating a scoop of vanilla ice cream. “I’m supposed to test for the advanced placement course in chemistry next year, but I’d rather study European art history.”
“Have you shared this with your parents?”
“Yes, but they want me to think about it. They say that I can enjoy the arts in my leisure time. I guess I . . . “ Kim paused and cocked her head to the side. “Dana, have you ever read a poem called ’When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer’?”
“It sounds familiar, but I don’t remember it. Whitman?”
“Exactly! The narrato
r listens to a lecture filled with charts and numbers and diagrams and then goes outside to look at the beauty of the night sky and appreciates astronomy in a totally different way. That’s me. I like to look at things from a different perspective.”
“I love art history myself,” Dana said. “I always attend Rosamond Bernier’s lectures at the Met.”
“Really?” Kim’s entire face radiated enthusiasm. “Did you know that Michelangelo used to dissect corpses to prepare for his sculptures, especially the David?”
“He certainly did. In fact, he had to do it in secret.”
“Yes! This is the problem with me and my parents. They’re like that astronomer. They’re fascinated with the science and the numbers and the anatomy—all those endless details. I’m more like Michelangelo. The anatomy is okay, I guess, but I appreciate the big picture. I can spend hours looking at the David or the Pieta and be inspired by the beauty—but not the blood and guts underneath, like my parents.”
Amused at the colloquial allusion to dissection, Dana was nevertheless amazed at how articulate Kim Sullivan was. She was remarkably self-aware, and the contrast she’d drawn between Whitman’s astronomer and Michelangelo expressed the difference between herself and her parents perfectly. In fact, Dana herself could relate to the poem on a personal level. She was discovering that while she was disciplined and diplomatic—important traits for success in a structured corporate setting—the politics of placating colleagues and superiors was becoming boring and stifling, inhibiting her creativity. Like both Kim and the narrator in Whitman’s poem, Dana had a different perspective on achieving success and happiness, and she was determined to find her own way. The more she got to know Kim, the more she liked her. Looking at Kim in her Dominican Academy uniform, Dana felt as if she were speaking to a version of herself thirteen years in the past.
Lisa Gelber sat at an adjoining table with her mother. Lisa naturally recognized Dana and gave her a wave as she began an animated conversation with her parent.
“Just remember, Kim,” Dana said, “that it’s okay to love yourself, not just your parents. Keep telling them how you feel.”
Dana could see that Kim’s entire disposition had changed in the last half hour. She had been sullen and quiet while upstairs in Dana’s office. She had now opened up, speaking with enthusiasm, daring to allow her own dreams to peek through the very specific expectations her parents had for her future.
Lisa and her mother were engaged in a rather loud conversation, with Lisa obviously complaining about something.
“It looks like Lisa has more on her mind than suede miniskirts,” Dana remarked. “What’s all that about?”
“Lisa wants to leave school at the end of next semester,” Kim said, lowering her voice. “She’s only a sophomore but wants to enroll at Simon’s Rock College, an early admissions college in the Berkshires. It’s in a beautiful spot, but rural. I can’t picture Lisa anywhere outside Manhattan. I’d love to know why she’s in such a rush.”
“It looks like her mother is asking the same question,” Dana observed, looking at her watch. “Let’s get back to the Junior Department. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
As they got up to leave, Lisa caught Kim’s eye, raised her eyebrows, and smirked, as if to say, “Nice work hanging out with Dana.”
In the elevator on the way to the main floor, Dana wished she could help Kim more and knew that the teen trusted her. More than ever, Dana wanted a family. But would she ever get the chance? The word “family” brought back all the conflicting events of the past few days and the questions she needed to ask Brett.
Dana and Kim spent the next hour selecting clothes for the luncheon. Afterwards, Kim left in good spirits, and Dana returned to her office, still tempted to call Brett. The temptation was cut short when Andrew appeared at Dana’s door. His face looked tired and drawn.
“What’s the matter, Andrew?” asked Dana. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I have too much on my plate to begin with,” he answered, “and I just learned that my dad has been hospitalized. He had a heart attack.”
“That’s awful,” Dana said. “What’s his condition?”
“He’s stable for now. I’m heading over to Flushing to hold his hand, which means I won’t be able to join you for Rosamond’s last lecture tonight, or even the after-party.”
“Don’t give it a second thought. I’ll ask Brett to tag along. Meanwhile, hang in there and take care of yourself.”
“Thanks, kiddo. You’re the best.”
Andrew left, leaving Dana to ponder that Andrew already had problems with a new and difficult relationship. He certainly didn’t need to deal with a sick parent.
Dana said a silent prayer for her best friend and then headed home to get dressed for the lecture. She felt that she had accomplished a lot with Kim Sullivan and looked forward to a relaxing evening at the Met.
Relaxing? After Brett answered her questions, she might not feel like attending the event, although Rosamond Bernier was expecting her. She knew that the next few hours might well determine the course of her marriage.
As was often the case, she could hear her father speaking in her mind: Don’t borrow trouble, Dana. What Janice told you is second-hand information. Give Brett a chance to explain things.
As usual, her father’s wisdom was a comfort.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dana arrived at her apartment, walked Wills, and called Brett’s office. His secretary informed her that he’d left for the day. That was good news as far as the lecture was concerned, but she had butterflies in her stomach. Would she ask for an explanation about his exploits with Janice on Saturday straight away, as was her inclination, or would she wait until they got home from the after-party so as not to spoil the evening. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait to get conclusive answers. Her quandary was resolved, however, when the phone rang.
“Honey, it’s me,” said Brett. “I have to work late this evening.”
“Is there any possibility you can get away?” Dana asked plaintively. “I’m going to a lecture at the Met to hear Rosamond Bernier, but Andrew can’t make it. His father had a heart attack.”
“That’s too bad about Andrew’s dad,” Brett replied, “but I can’t. I should be home by the time you get back, so save me a kiss.”
Dana said goodbye and hung up. She was saving questions, not kisses. But how could he be working late if he’d already left for the day? Dana picked up the phone and dialed Davis, Konen and Wright, asking for Brett McGarry’s office.
“Brett McGarry,” said the voice on the other end of the line.
“It’s me. I called a little while ago and was told that you’d left for the day.”
Brett laughed. “Patrick and I stepped out for a quick bite before we came back to tackle a brief. Is anything wrong? I guess Alice didn’t realize we were just taking a break.”
Alice was the secretary for three of the firm’s litigators.
“Could you pick up a carton of milk on your way home?” Dana asked. It was the only excuse that she could think of for calling him back to check on his whereabouts.
“Milk? Sure. No problem.”
“Thanks.”
Dana got dressed in her favorite Calvin Klein black wool jersey dress, feeling somewhat relieved that Brett was indeed at his office. She’d had visions of Brett and Janice having an intimate dinner, Janice dressed in a new outfit her husband had purchased at Saks or Bloomingdale’s. At least that possibility had been eliminated.
Dana wished that she could take Kim Sullivan to hear Rosamond Bernier speak on Toulouse-Lautrec. The girl needed a confidant, and if anyone would appreciate the lecture, it would be Kim, but it would be an overt show of favoritism on Dana’s part.
Dana left, hoping that the lecture could help her get through another four hours before she could finally speak with Brett.
• • •
The seven-hundred-seat Grace Rainey Rogers Auditorium at th
e Metropolitan Museum of Art had been sold out months in advance, as it always was when Rosamond Bernier was scheduled to lecture. The art world was appropriately dressed in its finery for Bernier’s season finale as it filed into the auditorium.
Bernier’s lectures were popular, in part, because she was able to create the atmosphere of an intimate conversation with her audience as she chatted about artists she had known so well, artists such as Picasso, Miró, and Matisse. This evening, she spoke of the great post-impressionist, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, who’d lived from 1864 to 1901.
Toulouse-Lautrec, Bernier explained, had shown unnatural artistic talent as a child after his parents separated, a time when he began to sketch in a workbook, being especially fond of drawing horses. What the average layperson envisioned in his mind when the name Toulouse-Lautrec was mentioned, however, was a short, disfigured man. When still a teenager, Lautrec fractured both his left and right thigh bones, leaving him for the rest of his life with short, malformed legs attached to an adult torso. To compensate for his hardship, he immersed himself in his art, later spending much of his time in cabarets and brothels of the bohemian Montmartre district of Paris. There, he would produce now-famous sketches, paintings, and lithographs of the bawdy and colorful dancers and prostitutes who inhabited the district. Not surprisingly, most of his adult life was marred by alcoholism, and the great artist died at the age of thirty-six. His greatness had come at a high price.
As Ms. Bernier lectured, Dana could not help but think of the subjective ways in which people defined greatness, with each person willing to make different sacrifices to achieve what they regarded as excellence in their lives. Her colleagues at B. Altman were truly gifted people, all driven to attain their personal best. Kim Sullivan’s parents were likewise driven by their careers, and their daughter was equally driven by her desire to achieve a different kind of success, perhaps as an academic in art history. Nina Bramen was unmarried, but traveled the world without regret.
