by Lynn Steward
The girls left and Dana went down to the main floor, where she was approached by Helen.
“Did I just see your contestants walking into the store a few minutes ago?” Helen asked.
“Yes. They’re going to be modeling sweaters this afternoon. Bob thought Saturday modeling would be a good idea, and I wanted to take advantage of the holidays. And remember—they’re no longer contestants. They’re the Teen Advisory Board now.”
Helen’s voice remained steady, but it was obvious that she was displeased. “Am I going to be consulted about anything that affects my position as junior buyer?” she asked curtly. “Or is everything decided by you and Bob these days?”
“Of course I want your input!” Dana responded, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible. “That’s why the girls will be reporting to you monthly.”
“I thought I made my position perfectly clear last week,” Helen shot back. “I’m simply not interested. In fact, I think I’ll have a talk with Bob right now. Since you’re on the selling floor, maybe I have a chance of getting in to see him more quickly this time.”
Helen turned abruptly and left.
Dana was past being intimidated by Helen, although she hoped she would be able to work with the junior buyer in a constructive manner. Helen had been Dana’s friend for many years, and she had taught her many valuable lessons about working at B. Altman. Without the expertise of Helen Kavanagh, the Junior Department wouldn’t have become the success that it was, and Dana sincerely wished to work with a colleague possessing such insight.
When the girls arrived, Dana saw immediately that the Fair Isle sweaters had been the right choice. The girls looked great.
“Robin, I want you to model on the fifth floor, focusing on the Trim-the-Tree Shop and the Book Shop,” Dana said. “Kim, I’m assigning you to Charleston Garden, but it won’t get busy until about twelve-thirty, so start by covering the Sporting Goods section, the Toy Fair, and the World of Games, also on eight. Lisa, the main floor is yours. Try to catch people’s eye as soon as they walk in. Kate, I’d like you to cover the fourth floor, especially the Waterford and Wedgwood Galleries and the Silver Shop. They’ll be buzzing with gift buyers. And we can’t forget the Children’s Department on two. Mari, will you model there, please? Also, don’t forget to stop into the Charles of the Ritz salon.”
Dana proudly watched as the girls spread out through the store. Just a few days ago, Kim Sullivan was slated to be the sole winner of the contest. Because of Dana’s ingenuity, the other four girls, who might otherwise be feeling more than a little despondent in the aftermath of the Sugar Plum Ball, were walking around with pride and self-esteem. And what they were doing was going to be great for the store as well. Dana had no doubt that they would be an integral part in attracting the growing youth market, and the beauty of it was that she would not have to utter the word “Biba” even once.
Dana had seen what was needed and gone after it. She now realized, probably as a result of her talks with Kim, that this was an important and necessary part of the narrative of her life.
Chapter Forty-One
Brett and Janice walked down the jetway to the concourse leading to terminal two at San Francisco International Airport. Brett felt elated to hold Janice’s hand in public. It represented enormous freedom compared to the secrecy that had forced him to furtively glance over his shoulder when going to Janice’s apartment in Greenwich Village during the past several days. For Brett, this new sense of liberty also reinforced Janice’s belief that he had become horribly set in his ways. While he had always felt quite comfortable with the well-ordered routines of his life in New York City, he realized more and more each day that he had always suppressed a certain restlessness in his spirit. Thoughts of how he would approach the months and years ahead no longer tried to push their way into his thinking. He was far too happy now to spend time considering the repercussions of his actions. He would, as did Janice, live in the moment. The future would take care of itself.
He checked at the information desk in the terminal to see if Thomas Parks had arrived from Seattle. Parks was Brett’s client, the owner of the insurance building in lower Manhattan. Brett and Richard had scheduled a brief, on-the-fly meeting with their client at the airport before Parks caught a connecting flight to Los Angeles. Parks needed to sign several papers authorizing actions to be taken by Davis, Konen and Wright, including the right to have his employees deposed in a new jurisdiction. Richard had also urged the meeting since he believed it was good policy to press the flesh, as the old saying went, with one of the firm’s biggest clients. The quantum legal assessment made by the firm indicated that this new phase of the case had a high percentage of being successfully litigated, but there were never any guarantees in the courtroom. Clients needed reassurance before incurring additional—and very large—legal fees. Parks had the opportunity to drop the suit against the contractor when the judge ordered a change in jurisdiction, but he decided to press on despite the cost. Part of Brett’s duty was to keep his client apprised of their ongoing strategy and hopeful of the outcome.
Parks’ plane had not arrived due to bad weather in the Seattle area—the almost constant rains of the northwest—and Brett and Janice were informed that his flight was experiencing a two-hour delay.
“I guess we’re stuck here for a few hours,” Brett said. “I’m famished. Want to grab a bite to eat?”
“Absolutely,” Janice answered. “The stewardess said that our in-flight meal was beef Wellington, but it tasted like cardboard. I couldn’t eat it.”
“I know a place in terminal one. Good local cuisine. Why don’t we go in and relax? I’ve asked the information booth to page us when Parks’ flight arrives.”
Janice kissed Brett on the lips. “Relaxation. I want you to get used to that concept, which means far more than your precious honey buns. I’m your new morning treat from now on.”
“I like the sound of that very much.”
The two kissed again before heading to the restaurant.
Chapter Forty-Two
Dana’s brother had to look twice to make sure he was seeing clearly, but he was. He sat down in one of the plastic seats in terminal one of San Francisco International Airport, his mind reeling. What should he do? Who should he tell?
Matthew had left his parents’ home at Macy Channel on Saturday morning to board a nonstop eleven o’clock flight to San Francisco in order to catch a connecting flight to Hawaii. With three hours to kill before he left for the islands, he sat and read for a while, wandered through the terminals to do some shopping, and then decided to have lunch. He hated airline food, and his appetite was still on New York time. He settled on a gourmet deli specializing in Napa Valley cuisine and walked to the restaurant’s entrance. That’s when he stopped dead in his tracks before moving away from the door. Brett and Janice were sitting in a dimly-lit booth against the far wall of the restaurant. His first thought was to walk in and tell Brett hi—”What a coincidence! Are you two on a business trip?”—but he quickly checked the impulse when he saw Brett slip to Janice’s side in the curved leather booth, raise a glass of wine, and kiss her on the lips.
He had retreated to the seat in the terminal to collect his thoughts. Several times he started to get up in order to walk to a bank of pay telephones on the far side of the terminal, but each time he sat down again. How could he break the news to his sister? Would she think it was some crazy joke? No. Dana knew Matthew’s humor wasn’t so coarse, but he would still sound incredulous. “Hi, Dana, and guess what? Your husband is making time with that floozy from your party.” He considered calling his mother for advice on exactly what to say, but he felt that it might be a dangerous move. He knew that his mother had a hands-on personality, and whatever was transpiring in the restaurant constituted a highly personal matter between Dana and her husband. What Dana chose to disclose to the rest of the family was her business and no one else’s.
Thoughts sprang into Matthew’s mind like lightning flashes. Was Brett tipsy
and simply flirting with Janice? Matthew himself had fallen prey to her beguiling charms just a few days earlier. His assumption that Brett was having an affair might be totally off the mark even though there could be no justification for his giving Janice an overtly romantic kiss. A kiss and an affair were two different things. The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself to tell no one, not even Dana. He ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair, unable to exorcise the image of Janice and Brett from his mind.
That’s when he remembered Janice’s call to him Friday morning, and immediately everything fell into place. She told Matthew that she’d been given a lot of last-minute work by the firm and that she would be busy for quite some time. Neither Brett nor Janice had mentioned anything about a business trip to the West Coast—nor had Dana or their parents, for that matter—and that was strange in itself. The trip had obviously come up at the last minute. Matthew was convinced that Janice had genuinely planned on spending time with him, and she could have easily rescheduled her trip to Hawaii or their drive up to New England. But she hadn’t, and there could be only one reason why. She’d never really been interested in him in the first place. Her sights were set elsewhere, and she had merely been using Matthew as a decoy—a “beard” in the parlance of affairs, someone to throw one’s spouse off the trail.
Matthew was tempted to walk in and confront Brett, not with anger, but with the simple knowledge that he was aware of what was going on. Matthew quickly realized that Brett, a shrewd lawyer, would try to explain away the situation.
Matthew felt intense anger rise in his chest, and he knew that he would have to tell his sister. But he would get some insurance just in case Brett or Janice attempted to either deny what he was seeing—”You must have been looking at the wrong table, Matthew”—or offer up some implausible explanation. Matthew reached into his leather carry-on bag and pulled out his 35mm Nikon, loaded it, and attached a zoom lens. He got up and walked to the side of the restaurant, which was separated from the terminal by a trellis half-wall, on top of which sat tall, lush ferns. Brett and Janice were still there. Good. He would obtain indisputable proof with a few careful shutter clicks. He adjusted the camera’s setting for the dim light, turned the f-stop ring to bring the lens into focus, and began to shoot, the ferns offering him ample cover. The couple kissed each other every minute or two, and the waiter had brought them a new bottle of wine. Matthew captured every detail on film—every kiss and laugh. There could be no doubt: his brother-in-law was having an affair.
When he had shot two rolls of film, Matthew went to the airport’s U.S. Post Office.
“How soon can I get this back to New York?” Matthew asked the postal worker at the counter. “Yorktown Heights.”
The man rubbed his chin. “It’ll get to New York tomorrow by Air Mail, but it won’t be delivered.”
“Why not?”
“No Sunday delivery, son.”
The look of frustration on Matthew’s face was plain.
“But the mail is sorted and sent to substations twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week,” the clerk said reassuringly. “It will get to its destination by Monday. Tuesday if there’s bad weather.”
“That’s fine,” Matthew said in a dispirited voice. How could Brett do this to Dana?
The clerk gave Matthew a mailer, which he addressed to his friend Bobby Munsen. He inserted the film into the brown padded envelope and paid for the postage.
“Thanks,” Matthew said.
The clerk nodded and tossed the package into a large canvas sack behind him.
Matthew walked calmly and methodically away from the small postal substation. He knew what he had to do. He went to a pay telephone and called his friend Bobby, a photography buff with his own darkroom.
“Bobby, this is Matthew. Say, I’m in San Francisco. On my way back to school, but I just sent you a package containing two rolls of film. Could you develop them when they arrive on Monday or Tuesday and then take the pictures straight to my sister, Dana McGarry, at 77 Park Avenue? You can leave them in a sealed envelope with the doorman in the lobby.”
“Sure,” Bobby said. “No problem. Sounds pretty important.”
“It is. And there’s one more thing. Don’t mention what’s in the photos to anyone, okay?”
“Consider it done,” Bobby said. “And hey, catch a wave for me out there in paradise.”
“Got it. And thanks. I owe you one.”
Matthew hung up and put two more nickels into the telephone. He was about to make the most difficult call of his life.
“B. Altman,” said a female voice on the other end of the line. “How may I direct your call?”
“Connect me with Dana McGarry, please.”
“One moment please.”
A minute passed, after which the operator came back on the line. “I’m sorry, but Ms. McGarry has left for the day.”
Matthew sighed. “Thanks.”
He’d forgotten about the time difference. It was mid-afternoon in California, which meant that Dana had already left work back in New York.
The airport public address system announced Matthew’s flight for Hawaii. He glanced at his wat ch and hurriedly dropped more coins into the phone’s narrow metal slots. He dialed Dana’s home number, but there was no answer.
He put the receiver back on its cradle and started walking to the concourse where his gate was located. A second announcement over the PA called out his flight number, and time was running out. Matthew felt despondent. How was he going to carry this information on a long flight over the Pacific? He felt awful for Dana, but he needed to get the news off his chest. Suddenly, he stopped and reversed his steps, heading back to the telephone. He thought he knew where Dana was.
He would make one more phone call.
Chapter Forty-Three
Dana picked up the telephone in the library on the third ring. “Hello?”
When the long distance operator informed Dana that she had a person-to-person call from Matthew Martignetti, she accepted it immediately.
“It’s me—Matthew. I’ve been trying to call you.”
“I was out walking Wills.”
“That’s what I figured. I don’t have long, sis, since my connecting flight is about to leave, but there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What’s wrong, Matthew? Are you alright?” Dana could clearly tell from her brother’s voice that he was troubled.
“I’m fine, but the thing is—” He paused. “The thing is that I just saw Brett and Janice in a restaurant here at the airport.”
Dana sat down in the English club chair next to the phone. Brett had made no mention of Janice going to the coast. In fact, he had specifically said that Richard was sending two paralegals with him—no one else. Despite a sinking feeling in her stomach, she supposed that Richard might have dispatched Janice at the last minute. But she knew there was more to the story or Matthew wouldn’t sound so upset.
“Are you still there?” Matthew asked.
“Yes. Go on.”
“They were in a booth, Dana, and they were kissing.” Matthew’s voice was low and subdued.
Dana shut her eyes tightly, feeling dizzy. “Are you sure it was them? Were you close enough?”
“I saw them across the restaurant at first, but I’m positive it was Brett and Janice. A few minutes later I took some pictures using a zoom lens. They seemed to be very . . . intimate. I’ve sent the film to a friend of mine in Yorktown Heights. He has a darkroom and will deliver the developed photographs to you in a sealed envelope in another day or two. I’d rather not describe the scene. It’s all on film. I’m so sorry, Dana. I don’t know what to say.”
“There is nothing to say,” Dana said, holding back her tears. “I know how hard this was for you, but I’m glad you told me. I’ve had my suspicions, but that’s all I’ll say for now.”
“Do you want me to fly back to New York?” Matthew asked. “I can change my ticket if I move fast.”
&
nbsp; “No, Matthew. I know you’d do anything for me, but I want you to finish the semester.”
The third and final boarding call for Matthew’s flight echoed through the terminal.
“I’ll be praying for you, Dana. And don’t be alone. Maybe you should call Andrew.”
“Don’t worry, Matthew. I’ll be okay.”
Matthew hung up and hurried to his gate, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.
• • •
Dana stared ahead, feeling numb. She didn’t know how long the affair had been going on, but Brett had reeled her in with all of his excuses and talk of a country home and a family. He’d done so, she realized, to appease her and, in the process, to allay any suspicions she might have. Her mind was assaulted with recollections from the past week: learning of his trips with Janice to Mrs. John L. Strong and Saks; his odd behavior when her parents came over for dinner; his sudden absence from the ballroom the night before and the glassy stare on his face when he returned to the table. It all made sense now, even Janice’s flirtation with Matthew. It had been nothing more than smoke and mirrors.
And then the tears came as Dana moved to the couch and rolled into a ball, a pain deep within her gut. The sense of betrayal she felt was overwhelming. She had been patient with Brett through the years as he had gained a stellar reputation with Davis, Konen and Wright, including his determination to make partner. She had not begrudged him success even though he had not always been emotionally or physically present to her. She was a professional woman with a rewarding job, and she didn’t need Brett hovering over her every second of the day. He had grown distant recently, and still she hadn’t made any demands on him. This was her reward for her patience and understanding.
She cried for an hour, and then anger surfaced. She pounded her fists into the cushions of the couch over and over again until she was out of breath and her strength was depleted. She had been treated cruelly, and the normally even-tempered Dana McGarry clenched her fists repeatedly until she finally breathed evenly and sat up straight. She knew what she had to do. Regardless of how long the affair had been going on—a day or a week or a year—she could no longer tolerate Brett’s behavior, could not look past his lies and neglect and manipulation, nor was the lifestyle she would be leaving behind a cause for her to entertain second thoughts. She was a survivor, and she could make it on her own.
