A Very Good Life

by Lynn Steward

  She would need to tell her parents, but that call would have to wait for another time. She was not emotionally ready to listen to her parents’ reassurances and recommendations, however well-meaning they might be. She made another call instead.

  • • •

  Andrew was sitting next to Dana within the hour, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He let her cry more, her eyes already swollen. He would like to have said a great many things, all clichés: it was for the best; Brett didn’t deserve her; it was a chance to start a new life. But Andrew knew better. Dana needed his presence, not his words.

  At last Dana spoke. “I’m going to consult a lawyer this week,” she said, “and then I’m going to look for an apartment. I want papers filed before the end of the year.”

  “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” Andrew said. “If you need a shoulder to lean on, that is. Maybe you should take the week off.”

  “I’ll take your shoulder,” Dana said, “but I’m going in to work next week. It’s what I need right now. And I don’t want anyone at the store to know about this for the time being. I couldn’t handle all the sad looks and condolences. I’ll tell everybody when I think the time is right. For now, I just want to do my job. B. Altman is going to be my therapy for quite some time.”

  Andrew nodded. “I think you’re probably right. Just remember I’m here for you any time, day or night.”

  Dana kissed Andrew on the cheek. “I know,” she said. “That’s why you’re sitting here now.”

  • • •

  The telephone rang an hour after Andrew left. Dana knew instinctively that it was Brett, the dutiful husband who was checking in to say that he had arrived in San Francisco safely. She thought of just letting it ring, but he would persist in calling, tonight and in the days ahead, until she answered. Indeed, if he couldn’t reach her, he would almost certainly call her parents, and she couldn’t have them worrying about her whereabouts.

  Inhaling deeply, Dana steeled herself. She would not confront Brett yet. She would use his absence in the next few days to start processing the changes that would manifest in her life and also to take the preliminary steps to legally separate from Brett. She knew that if she told him she was aware of his affair, she would receive the obligatory lines used by all cheating husbands: “It’s not what you think, honey! I can explain. This is all just a big misunderstanding.”

  “Hello,” she said.

  “It’s me. Just wanted to say that I’m in San Francisco safe and sound. And, of course, to say I love you. Everything go okay at the store today?”

  “Fine,” Dana said, summoning every ounce of strength she had. “The Teen Advisory Board came in and did a great job modeling this afternoon.”

  “You sound like you have a cold,” Brett said.

  “Yeah, it started suddenly this afternoon. Been sniffling all evening.”

  “Make sure to drink lots of fluids,” Brett counseled. “Hot tea and honey and get some rest. You’ve had a heck of a week.”

  “That’s what I’m planning on. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of business in San Francisco.”

  Dana’s own words stung as she uttered them. Brett would indeed take care of business, and not just the firm’s.

  “Okay, honey. I’ll say goodnight so you can go to bed. I love you.”

  Dana knew that she had to end the call on the right note or Brett would know immediately that she’d discovered his secret. She closed her eyes and forced the words from her mouth: “I love you, too. Good night.”

  Dana hung up and looked at the pictures in the library, pictures of her life with Brett for the past eight years. That life was over now.

  Dana had sensed that big changes in her life were in the offing when she’d walked home from B. Altman the day after Thanksgiving. She’d been right.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  For Dana, Monday was a busy day. She had to work on the mission statement for the Teen Advisory Board and oversee a dozen other events related to the holiday season with Christmas Day growing closer. She steeled herself from the moment she entered B. Altman to make sure that her mind was focused and her manner pleasant. It was Bea who remarked that she seemed quieter than usual—”Is everything okay, kiddo?”—but Dana reassured her that she was preoccupied with duties for the Advisory Board and drawing up its schedule. Her thoughts turned many times throughout the day to the news Matthew had given her on Saturday, and each time she recalled his words spoken from the pay phone in San Francisco, she felt a new pain in her heart, a feeling of disbelief at her husband’s betrayal. And yet she managed to get through the day without anyone noticing her inner turmoil since store employees were in full holiday mode, barely able to keep up with their own duties. Helen was especially busy and called Dana into her office in the late morning.

  “Have you heard the news?” Helen asked, her face beaming.

  “News?” Dana said.

  “I thought you of all people would know,” Helen said. “The Fair Isle sweaters sold out on Saturday. The sales staff had to transfer sweaters from White Plains and Manhasset to fill the orders. That’s quite a job your teens did. In fact, I’m planning a luncheon for you and your junior staff next Saturday.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Helen. The girls should hear of their success from you, and it’s a nice way for you to get to know them. They’re brimming with ideas and enthusiasm! I’m here to help, too. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

  “Oh, there will be plenty to do!” Helen said as she got up from her desk. “I have to run to the sales floor now, but we need to start talking about the look for that teen makeup counter when the holiday rush is over.”

  Dana’s colleagues were coming together as a team—indeed, as a family—and Dana knew that she would need that closeness and support very soon.

  Helen flew out the door, charged with energy, as Dana smiled to herself. It was a bittersweet moment. She knew that her career at B. Altman would keep her sufficiently busy in the months ahead, and yet she had hoped she would be able to go home at the end of every day and share her triumphs with Brett. The latter was never going to happen.

  Brett had called again Sunday night, but Dana told him that everything was fine and she was heading out for dinner with Andrew. The reality was that she had no dinner plans with Andrew, but the excuse had enabled Dana to avoid a long phone call. She didn’t think she could listen to Brett’s voice for more than a minute or two. Brett seemed unconcerned since Dana and Andrew often went out for dinner when Brett was kept late in court or at the office.

  His call Monday night was lengthier. He related to Dana that Richard had set up a meeting with a realtor earlier that day and that he had found an apartment in the affluent Corona Heights district that he felt would be perfect. He also enumerated a long list of motions he’d filed at the San Francisco Court House’s civil division. He obviously was detailing his duties for Dana’s benefit.

  “And how is that cold of yours?” Brett asked.

  “Much better,” Dana replied. “I must have caught it in time.”

  “That’s great, honey. By the way, I’ll be home Wednesday night. I arrive in New York late morning, but Richard wants to see me in the afternoon. I should be home for dinner. I can’t wait to see you.”

  Dana answered with an obligatory “You, too,” with the call mercifully ending after the quick exchange of “I love you.”

  Dana was on the verge of picking up the phone to call her parents—the news wouldn’t keep forever—but she decided against it. She would tell her mother and father about the divorce after she’d seen a lawyer and secured an apartment. If she didn’t wait, her parents would almost certainly recommend scores of names and locations that she should check out. And then there was, of course, all the personal advice she’d receive. That was fine—she knew her parents were concerned for her welfare—but she would be able to better handle a conversation with them once she had taken the initial steps on her own. She would tel
l them later in the week since she intended to act quickly.

  Dana picked up the second call on Monday evening immediately since she knew it would be Andrew checking up on her.

  “I’ve got some good news,” Andrew said, “not that any news right now is what might be termed good. Max tells me that Rosamond has a friend named Julien Armand, who owns a carriage house that he’d like to lease quickly since he’s returning to Paris for a special assignment at Sotheby’s.”

  “Where is it?” Dana asked. “I made a few calls today, but everything I found is in sixties buildings. I can’t do that.”

  “Sniffen Court. Thirty-sixth Street between Third Avenue and Lexington.”

  “Sniffen Court! You’re kidding! I purposely walk pass the gated mews and gape every time I’m grocery shopping on Third Avenue. The alley is paved with flagstones and flanked by townhomes.”

  “Exactly. They were brick stables and carriage houses built around 1863 and converted to homes in the 1920s. It has a private courtyard, and the style is Romanesque Revival. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places. Do you want to look at it tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Of course! Right after lunch. I only wish I could find a good lawyer in the next day or so, but it might take time to get an appointment. Brett just told me he’s coming back Wednesday night, and I’ll have less back and forth with him if he knows I’m serious about a divorce and that he has no chance for redemption with me.”

  “That’s the other good news. I ran into Mark today, and immediately thought he would be the perfect guy to provide a reference for a good lawyer. I told him that a friend just received upsetting news and wanted to start divorce proceedings as soon as possible, although I didn’t mention you by name. He said he knew one of the best divorce lawyers in Midtown, and if he made a call you could probably get in tomorrow morning.”

  Dana didn’t have to think twice. “Please, get the lawyer’s name, Andrew. You can tell Mark it’s for me, but ask him not to tell anyone.”

  “Consider it done,” Andrew said. “I’ll call you first thing in the morning with the address and exact time.”

  “You’re the best, Andrew. Where would I be without you?”

  “You’d handle things just fine. You proved last week that you can do anything you set your mind to, but I’m glad to help. I just wish you didn’t have to go through all this, and certainly not during the holidays.”

  “I feel so foolish,” Dana said. “Last week at the Christmas tree farm, I told you I might be starting a family. This week I decide to get divorced. How could I be so naïve?”

  “No need to feel foolish on my account,” Andrew said. “As you know, I have my own set of domestic problems, which I won’t bore you with, but it’s like a soap opera. I suppose we all have a little drama in our lives. It’s nothing to apologize for.”

  “You know all the right things to say, Mr. Ricci,” Dana said. “I’ll be waiting for your call tomorrow morning. And thanks.”

  “De nada, as the saying goes. Good night.”

  Dana had been fighting off tears at odd moments during the past two evenings, but being proactive was helping her cope. Work had been a good tonic, and by the end of tomorrow she hoped she would have taken two of the biggest steps involved in the divorce process. And that was the trick of it all: to keep moving and face forward. Her life was in the future.

  • • •

  Dana looked at the painted chest in the foyer, a manila envelope sitting next to a small lamp and a silver tray for mail. The return address simply said Yorktown Heights, so she knew that it contained the photos developed by Matthew’s friend. It had been waiting for her in the lobby when she arrived home from work.

  She slowly picked up the envelope and stared at it. She knew Matthew’s report had been truthful and accurate, but he’d felt it necessary to document the awful scenes. She decided that she would look at the pictures once and then never again unless it became legally necessary. She was on the verge of changing her entire life based on what her brother had seen, and as painful as the images might be, they represented closure and would help her remain calm and resolute when Brett offered his excuses. She would give them to her lawyer in the interest of fully explaining her reasons for seeking a divorce, but would retain the negatives. If she were going to meet with a lawyer the following morning, she needed to have seen the photos at least once.

  She undid the clasp and pulled the glossy color photographs from the brown sheath. She looked at the two dozen pictures in less than a minute and replaced them in the envelope, her face expressionless. There was no need to torture herself with the images. She replaced the envelope on the table and went upstairs. There was some housekeeping of a personal nature that needed to be done in the bedroom.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Alan Rudnick, attorney, was not the typical legal shark Dana had envisioned, but Andrew had assured her when he called her at six-thirty Tuesday morning that Mark’s friend was who she wanted to represent her. She now sat in his office, feeling quite comfortable in his presence. He was a slender man in his mid-forties and had thinning blond hair and pale blue eyes. He wore small rimless spectacles and looked at the photos Dana had brought him as quickly as she herself had the night before. She had told him her story, and he’d made a few notes on his legal pad, but otherwise his focus was on Dana.

  “I don’t want to use the pictures unless I have to,” Dana stated. “I simply want Brett to sign papers granting us a legal separation before he begins his assignment in San Francisco.”

  Rudnick nodded slowly. “We’ll file for irreconcilable differences rather than adultery, but is your husband likely to do things as amicably as you anticipate?”

  “One of his greatest ambitions in life . . .” Dana began before pausing. She couldn’t help but think that one of his ambitions included the very thing that brought her to Rudnick’s office. “His greatest ambition is to make partner at Davis, Konen and Wright. He won’t want a protracted, high-profile divorce jeopardizing his standing with the firm. And then there’s the issue of naming Janice as co-respondent. She’s a member of his firm.”

  “And you’re certain that there’s no hope for a reconciliation. Forgive me, but it’s a question I always have to ask.”

  “None whatsoever.”

  Rudnick picked up a silver pen and made additional notes on his legal pad. “Are you going to seek alimony?” he asked quietly. “You’ve indicated that you’re moving out of your present home, so I strongly recommend that Brett contribute to your support since his income exceeds your own and he’ll be keeping the apartment.”

  “Yes. I believe it’s appropriate, and given that he will soon make partner, I don’t think that will be a problem either.”

  “Do you have a new residence picked out yet?” asked Rudnick.

  “I’m looking at one this afternoon. I want to move as soon as possible. There are too many memories where I am now.”

  “That’s quite understandable, and it’s usually the case. From a more practical standpoint, however, someone needs to vacate the current premises for any motion of this sort to move forward.”

  Rudnick leaned back and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, fingertips together. “I anticipate that this will be fairly straightforward given Brett’s professional concerns, although that can never be taken as a given. I recommend that the initial agreement also stipulate that he pay all of your legal fees plus any filing costs. Even in an uncontested divorce, legal fees can be very expensive. Later, when it’s time to partition community property, I think you should ask for a very generous settlement. He can afford it, but we’re not at that stage yet. It’s just something to think about right now.”

  “Oh, I intend to,” Dana said.

  She was relieved that the “shark” was quiet yet confident.

  “I’ll hold on to these,” Rudnick said as he gathered the photos and put them back in the envelope. “It’s good insurance. Give him one of my cards and tell him t
o contact me when he gets back from the coast. Such a request usually has a sobering influence on the other spouse. It will demonstrate that you mean business. Does he, in your estimation, pose any threat to you when you make your wishes known? It’s another question I have to ask.”

  “No. He’ll try to talk his way out of it, but that’s about all.”

  “They all do, Mrs. McGarry. Try to keep the conversation short and to the point. Ask him to spend the night at a hotel or with a friend.”

  Dana nodded.

  “That’s all I’ll need for now,” Rudnick said, standing and walking around the side of his desk and extending his hand. “Please call if you have any questions, day or night. My answering service will notify me if you run into any trouble. I’m sorry that you need my help, but you’ll get through this. I’m here if you need me.”

  Dana shook Rudnick’s hand and left. Sitting in the lawyer’s office had been surreal. The life she and Brett had so carefully planned had dissolved in a matter of minutes. She’d never anticipated taking such action, but she knew she was doing the right thing. She left Rudnick’s building and headed for B. Altman.

  • • •

  Dana arrived at her office and had time to work on additional events the store was staging for the holiday season before she met Andrew at Sniffen Court after lunch. Although the carriage house was small, Dana immediately fell in love with its charm. Armand’s living room had a wall twelve feet wide with original lead-paned windows rising to the full height of the twenty-foot ceiling. The windows afforded a view of some of the other brick carriage houses that would be covered with ivy in the spring. While there was no formal dining room, the kitchen opened to an eating area with a banquette and a stone fireplace.