Jeff had never heard the phrase before, but when she found out what it meant, she began to cry all over again. No one, even her father, had ever treated her with such protectiveness.
That was the state of Jeff’s love life, so to speak, when she met Billy Baker. Her first thought was that while he was far too old for her, he was not unattractive, with a kind smile and gentle eyes. At least he still had all of his hair. As for Billy, he looked at Jeff as if he had never seen such a wondrous creature before. From that moment on he placed her on a pedestal, and she had never been in danger of falling from it.
With Billy, Jeff finally got a taste of the high society she so yearned for. No matter how he had made his money, it was still money, and there was quite a lot of it. He took her out to the best dining establishments in the city, and she was on his arm for every charity ball and gala of the season. For those events he encouraged her to purchase gowns that previously she could only have dreamed of wearing, and soon they were accentuated with jewels that he gave her for her birthday, their six-month anniversary, and, finally, an engagement ring.
Of course, the first person Jeff told was her mother, who was overjoyed for her, and then her roommate Haley. And then she told Chad, who regarded her solemnly and said, “I guess you won’t be needing me anymore, then.”
It was true that she didn’t need him, since when she married Billy she’d have use of his staff, including his driver, but she was suddenly reluctant to let him go. He’d been a constant in her life for the past four years, the longest of any man she’d known in college. One last time, she asked Chad to take her to the hotel room she’d been in with so many other men, and she convinced him to pull her down on the bed and make love to her, knowing she’d never see him again. That way she could tell Billy, in all honesty, when they slept together for the first time on their wedding night, that there was no one else.
Not long after they were married, Billy started talking about having a family. There were no children from his previous union, and he was anxious to get started. Jeff knew this day would come and had prepared herself for it, including making sure she had a ring on her finger first. With a quiver in her voice, she told Billy that she wasn’t able to conceive, that an illness in her childhood prevented her from ever having children.
“I was afraid to tell you about it when we first met,” she whispered, eyes lowered. “I thought if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t want to marry me.”
Billy enfolded her in his arms, his eyes troubled. “Of course I would still marry you.” He wiped away the tear she willed to trickle down her cheek. “You’ve made me the luckiest, happiest man in the world. Not having any children won’t change that.”
Over the years Jeff stuck to her story, obtaining birth control pills from her doctor that Billy never knew about. To tell the truth, she didn’t want children, actually didn’t like them, although she never uttered the words to anyone, afraid of what they might think of her. Sometimes she felt guilty, knowing how much Billy would cherish a son or a daughter. He could never know about her past. He thought she was perfect; what if he found out what had taken place the summer before she went to college? So rarely did Jeff recall that horrible July 4th weekend, when she had given birth to a baby girl and given her away the next day, that she was almost able to convince herself it had never happened. Soon, she wouldn’t have to worry about getting pregnant ever again. That was one good thing about getting older.
* * *
December 8th was a brisk, cold day in Manhattan as Jeff left the plastic surgeon’s office to head to R. R. Peyton’s for a celebratory shopping spree. She was elated, having set the date for her upcoming surgery for the beginning of January, which would give her plenty of time to recover before her party. Already she was starting to feel more confident about her looks, walking down the street in her full-length fur coat—a little outdated by New York standards—that Billy had bought her for Christmas. She didn’t get much of a chance to wear it in Atlanta. She went into R. R. Peyton’s, ready to buy some new clothes to inaugurate her soon-to-be-improved self.
Wandering around the first floor, Jeff looked at the exquisite jewelry, thinking which piece Billy might buy that would make her the envy of all her friends. Toward the back, she stumbled upon a pretty space adorned with red roses in silver chalices and wooden plank floors. It almost made Jeff wish that she had gone into fashion merchandising after college at Emory; maybe she would have ended up working in a boutique like this. She could only imagine the possibilities she might have had; where her great looks might have taken her.
Seeing a store clerk, she went over to him and asked, “What is this place called?”
“The World of Lily Rose, ma’am,” the young man replied.
Jeff liked the name—“Lily” instantly conjuring up the elegance of Lillian Langvin, and “Rose” making her think of the South. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she admitted, then lest the clerk think she was from some backwater, added, “I live in Atlanta.”
“Oh, we have a store there, too,” he informed her. “It just recently opened.”
“I’ll have to check it out then.” Jeff made a mental note to herself to look it up when she got home. Maybe she’d get a Christmas present for Billy there.
She stayed in the boutique for a while longer, then went through the designer floors and purchased a couple of cocktail dresses she thought would be suitable for splashy dinner parties. The perfect gown for her birthday party eluded her, though. It had to be something elegant and sophisticated, something no other woman in Atlanta would wear. Jeff liked to think she had style and taste far above that of any of her friends, and her party would be the perfect place to prove it.
She was taking in all the sights and sounds of the department store when she happened to look down at the end of the aisle and noticed two young women. The one with long brown hair seemed to be in her late twenties and was listening intently to the other, while taking notes on a tablet. The woman who was giving direction appeared to be slightly older, and she was one of the most striking women Jeff had never seen. She had pale blond hair that was pulled back at the nape of her neck, and was dressed in black from head to toe—a fitted cashmere sweater, slim black trousers, and patent-leather stiletto high heels. Her only jewelry were her wedding rings, an expensive oversize watch, and diamond stud earrings. She was exactly what Jeff used to be and everything Jeff wanted to be now: young, beautiful, and stylish.
Although she wasn’t close enough to hear what they were talking about, Jeff assumed from their actions that they worked at the store. Perhaps they were sales associates and could help her find a dress. She had started to head toward them when they suddenly turned and walked away, deep in conversation, without giving her a glance. Jeff looked down at her big, blocky fur coat and felt what she was wearing was all wrong. The giddiness she’d felt earlier walking out of the doctor’s office was starting to seep away from her, leaving her dejected. Despite the shopping bags on her arm, the promise of a new body and a new face, she couldn’t hide the fact that she was almost fifty, and she was never going to be able to look or feel as attractive as she once had.
Back at her hotel, Jeff decided she would go to the bar that evening. Even though she hadn’t been out alone in a long time—always with Billy or friends—she was sure that the men would flock around her as they’d always done. The marble bar was crowded with men and women having after-work cocktails, and Jeff’s mood lifted. She ordered her martini and enjoyed the elegant surroundings, imagining herself thirty years younger and a single woman on the prowl. Although she had no intention of cheating on Billy, a little flirtation would do no harm and give her the boost she needed.
After her second martini, feeling all warm and assured, Jeff looked around for a potential target. A couple of empty seats down was a dark-haired man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, head bowed over his drink and seeming in need of some consolation. As if sensing her eyes on him, he lifted his head and looked in
her direction, a grin on his face. But before she could make her move, his gaze moved past her to a woman in a business suit, who came up and kissed him on the cheek.
“Sorry, honey, I’m late but I was still working on the case. You know I have that big trial tomorrow.”
Immediately, Jeff tuned the couple out. She had naively thought the man might be interested in having a conversation with an older woman like her, while his wife or girlfriend, who was young enough to be Jeff’s daughter, must be an attorney. The night was souring fast, and Jeff couldn’t wait to leave.
Just as she was ready to sign her tab, she heard a deep voice behind her say, “Leaving so soon? I thought I’d see if I could buy you another martini.”
Jeff turned around to see a well-dressed gentleman who looked to be in his early seventies. He had thick gray hair and was well built, except for a slight bulge over his alligator belt and slightly stooped shoulders. He might have been attractive to some, but Jeff felt like she had been slapped in the face. This was the only man who had noticed her all night. Feeling her stomach churn, she quickly raised her hand with its flashy diamond ring and excused herself. “Thank you so much, but I need to leave now. I’m meeting my husband for dinner and can’t be late.”
Jeff returned to her room and ordered a small salad with shrimp and another martini, resolving to start her diet that night. After a quick shower, she lay in bed thinking about what had happened in the bar. A man in his seventies actually thought that he had a chance with a woman like her? Had she been living in a dream world? She had been married to Billy for so long that she just assumed that every man thought she was as wonderful as he did.
Jeff got out of bed and lit a cigarette. She wandered into the living room, then filled a crystal cocktail glass with ice and poured herself a Grey Goose vodka. She sat watching the flickering fire as it danced in the dimly lit suite. In a bit of a drunken stupor, she began to envision her Valentine’s Day birthday celebration. When everyone was gathered in the front hall, she’d walk down the staircase in a tight new dress that showed off just how youthful and gorgeous her new figure was. Murmurs of astonishment and admiration would arise from the assembled guests, among them the wealthiest and most influential people that Atlanta society had to offer. Billy would be waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open, as if he was seeing her for the first time, until she stepped off onto his arm. The crowd would part as he led her, gliding across the parquet floor, into middle age.
With that final thought, Jeff fell asleep on the sofa, the smell of stale tobacco smoke still thick and heavy in the air.
Chapter 14
IF LILY THOUGHT THAT DECIDING to set aside the whole issue of having a baby would improve her and Peyton’s relationship, she could not have been more mistaken. It was as if the discovery made in Dr. MacGregory’s office had lit a fuse in Peyton, the truth not setting him free but sending him down his own destructive path of booze and drugs. Lily could do nothing but endure the rising tide of dread she felt waiting for Peyton to come home from work each evening, and watching him drag himself in, his eyes glazed over, his clothes smelling of weed and expensive perfume. He no longer bothered to try and explain away his behavior, and she had long since stopped avoiding confrontations with him about it.
“Peyton, where the hell have you been?” she would say, knowing full well the answer.
He would whip past her, raising his voice to meet hers. “You know I have more responsibility now that I’m president of the company.”
Then Lily would chase him into the bedroom, screaming, “What, more responsibility to be drunk?”
Sometimes the argument would stop there; other times they would end up having wild, exhausting sex. Lily had a virgin nose and had never done drugs of any kind, but even she knew that Peyton’s frantically beating heart was cocaine at work. Still, she did everything she could to satisfy him, giving him all of her until her body ached, thinking that maybe this way she could reach him. She wanted him to know how much she loved him, but she knew this was not about love. It was about him “riding high on the white horse,” and she could never follow him to the places he went during his coke-fueled binges.
All of this was taking a toll on her well-being, too. Sometimes Lily would be sitting at her office at work or at home by herself and feel like she couldn’t catch her breath. Dr. Atwood, her psychiatrist, told her that she was experiencing panic attacks, which was not uncommon in individuals that had been through traumatic events. After telling Lily she wasn’t surprised, considering Lily’s past, Dr. Atwood prescribed antianxiety medication, which made Lily feel calmer. Or at least that she could put up with Peyton’s depravity for a little longer.
Lily also reached back into the long, pushed-aside religious faith that her family in the mountains had so devotedly followed and started going to church. It seemed to be the only place where her heart stopped frantically beating and the calmness of what she felt and believed was God, and the spirits of her beloved parents, would wash over her. Lily began to make new friends at the church, who embraced her into the fold with open arms. They never acknowledged her social position, whether they were aware of it or not, and she never discussed it. It was a balm in the asphalt jungle of her life.
At home the tension continued to rise and could conceivably have gone on for a while, if not for the fateful night when Peyton came home to her usual question of where he’d been. He stopped dead in his tracks, his brown eyes looking almost black, cold and dead. “For your information, I’ve been out for dinner with my father and a few of his colleagues to discuss business that is far above your level.”
As he practically ripped his shirt off and headed toward the bedroom, Lily couldn’t control her anger. She ran after him, catching his arm, and said, “Pey, I know you weren’t with Daddy Rich because I just talked to him on the phone, and he was at home with your mother.”
Peyton grabbed her by the shoulders. “What did you call my father?”
“Daddy Rich,” Lily replied defiantly. “I asked him and he said I could call him that. I’ll call him what I want.”
“He’s not your father!” Peyton exploded. “Your father’s dead!”
Lily would never forget what came next. Her once warm, loving, charming husband threw her on the floor and started to kick her, like he was trying to punt a field goal but kept missing. She tried to scramble toward the door, but he continued to kick her in the buttocks and legs, then in the ribs and torso, until she finally gave up and lay in a fetal position covering her head, which he hadn’t gotten to yet in his blind rage. Then in three or four minutes—she wasn’t sure; time seemed to pass in slow motion—it was over. Peyton walked briskly away into the bedroom, as if he’d just finished dealing with a minor annoyance. Feeling dizzy and disconcerted, but most of all afraid for her life, Lily got up as fast as she could and grabbed the keys by the door. Dressed in only a light skirt and skinny tee, she ran barefoot into the night, ten blocks up Park Avenue, until she reached Richard and Lisa Reynolds’ apartment.
Within minutes Lily was sitting in the living room of Richard and Lisa’s grand triplex. Lisa had grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Lily’s shaking shoulders, then given her some water and a Xanax, which Lily readily accepted. Lily wondered what her in-laws must think had caused the bruises rising red and purple on her fair skin.
“Who did this to you?” Richard demanded. “Did someone break in to your apartment?”
Beside him, Lisa kept her eyes lowered, her hands trembling. As Peyton’s mother she had an unthinkable intuition of what might have happened. When Lisa raised her eyes again, Lily looked straight into a mother’s greatest fear.
“Your son did this to me,” Lily confirmed.
She watched as a mixture of emotions crossed both her in-laws’ faces. Richard’s chest seemed to deflate, and almost imperceptible beads of sweat formed at Lisa’s hairline, a shade darker than the rest of her hair. Then a screen seemed to come down ov
er Richard’s face, and he looked the consummate businessman again.
“Does anyone else know what happened?”
Confused, Lily said, “No, I came here first because I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Good,” Richard said. “If this gets out to the press, it could look very bad for the company. For the World of Lily Rose. I know you don’t want that to happen, right?”
After a moment, Lily slowly shook her head.
Lisa tried to give her a smile. “Why don’t you stay in the guest suite tonight? I’ll have fresh pajamas and a robe laid out, and hot tea sent up. Then you can take a shower and have a full night’s rest. We can talk about everything in the morning. What do you think?” She almost sounded like she was pleading, as she looked from Lily to her husband and back again.
In the silence that followed, Lily knew they were waiting for her to make a decision. There were two alternatives: she could either call the police and file charges or pretend that nothing had happened. Neither was terribly appealing. If she did the first, the Reynolds family would be front and center in the tabloids the next day, and if she did the second… As many women in her situation before her, Lily was convinced that this was a onetime occurrence; that her husband would never try to hurt her again. It had been the drugs talking, not his innermost self, the person he truly was. In addition, she couldn’t bear to lose everything she’d built with Peyton and her career, not to mention her place in the Reynolds family. And so, she only had one choice, and behind gritted teeth, she made it.
“I guess I’ll go home now,” Lily said quietly. “I hope Peyton isn’t angry with me anymore.” She looked from Richard to Lisa, at the relief that spread across their faces. “Thank you for helping me.”
Richard spoke quickly. “Of course, Lily. We’re so glad that you came to us. Always feel free to come here.”
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