Eliza Starts a Rumor

by Jane L. Rosen

  Amanda rubbed her arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I just have to get through it. Remember how back then it just ended one day? Inexplicably.”

  From her time in therapy, Mandy knew that this wasn’t the best plan, but she decided to wait before pushing her further.

  “We’ll figure it out. I’m glad I can be here for you. It must be lonely.”

  Eliza did not want to figure anything out. She joked again, “It is. Thank God for Alexa!”

  This time Amanda laughed at her joke, and then laughed harder at her own thoughts.

  “What’s so funny? Tell me,” Eliza begged.

  They lived to make each other giggle, and it felt good to slip back into their old roles, especially after all of the serious discussion.

  “I just pictured you chatting with Alexa all day: ‘Alexa, tell me I make the best three-bean dip in all of Hudson Valley!’ ‘Alexa, play “Only the Lonely.”’”

  Eliza playfully swatted her on the arm, laughing with her.

  “I’ve managed to entertain myself in other ways. Come upstairs.” As she led Mandy down the hall, she explained her grocery store encounter.

  “So I checked it out and Valley Girls was getting way more action than my site. Until last week.” She laughed with a slightly villainous tone.

  Amanda looked at her suspiciously. She often kept up with the life she was missing back east by scrolling through the Hudson Valley Ladies’ Bulletin Board, but she hadn’t recently. There was a similar group in Beverly Hills called LA Mommies, but it had a very different vibe—lots of posts complaining about the paparazzi taking up all of the parking spots at the Coldwater Canyon playground, or whether gyrotonics or bumplants (butt implants) are the best way to a Kardashian derriere.

  Eliza pulled her by the hand.

  “I have to show you what’s been going on. We have scandals in the boring suburbs, too!”

  CHAPTER 17

  Alison & Olivia

  Alison and Olivia took the 11:00 a.m. train into the city without their babies in tow. It was a first for both of them.

  “I’m nervous. I’ve never left Lily for the whole day,” Olivia said as they boarded the train. Alison suppressed a laugh because Olivia had been the one to convince Alison to leave the babies home with her “overly capable” sitter.

  “Two babies are a walk in the park!” Olivia’s babysitter, Colleen, had assured Alison in response to her long list of instructions regarding Zach.

  In contrast, Alison felt fine as soon as they left. More than fine, actually. She was amazed at how quickly she adapted to the freedom of not being bound to an infant. She was feeling a bit giddy about it, and it was not a very familiar emotion. She controlled herself; after all, this trip was not exactly sold as a fun outing. She correctly assumed that leaving Lily was not at the root of Olivia’s anxiety.

  As they stepped off the train at Grand Central Station, Alison felt her inner New Yorker come alive. She couldn’t keep her focus on one thing; her eyes darted from left to right, taking it all in. Her pace picked up considerably, and she noticed that Olivia was right in step. This is what I’ve been missing in the suburbs, she thought with a sigh. She wondered if Olivia felt the same.

  “It feels good to be back, doesn’t it?” Alison asked.

  Olivia nodded in agreement, followed by an uneasy smile.

  She knew that, for Alison, the “country” was a means to an end, that end being a return to the city at some point in her future. But, Olivia thought, she herself had closed that chapter of her life. Just that morning, when she had looked out the window at the ever-changing landscape, she’d been filled with excitement at the thought of their first snowfall in the country. She pictured reading by a roaring fire, the current red-hued panorama dipped in white. She could tell that it didn’t mean as much to Alison. As if to prove it, when they stepped out of the station, Alison dramatically breathed in the distinct smells of hosed-down pavement and food cart falafel and sighed, as if they were the smells of heaven.

  “Want to walk?” she asked eagerly. “It’s just twenty blocks.”

  “Sure,” Olivia agreed. She did love a good walk up Madison Avenue.

  As they window-shopped and chatted their way uptown, Alison marveled at how talkative Olivia became. She seemed to have forgotten where they were headed and why, and Alison had no intention of reminding her. The familiarity of every step sparked Olivia’s memories of growing up on the Upper East Side.

  “We used to eat french fries and gravy in that coffee shop nearly every day after school,” she said, “and that’s where I got my prom dress!”

  Alison had bought her own prom dress at a resale shop on Astoria Boulevard. Some Manhattan girl, like Olivia, had probably worn it to prom the year before, she thought. This little sabbatical in the suburbs aside, Alison was convinced that she would be bringing up Zach in the city. She was very interested in hearing about the schools and lifestyles of city kids. There had been plenty of Olivia’s type at Wesleyan. They had a quiet sophistication about them, especially the private school kids, who were so meticulously educated that college classes seemed to be a breeze for them. She had already begun worrying about school admissions for Zachary.

  “I hear the private school admission process is a real nightmare,” she said. “I’m not looking forward to it.”

  Olivia grew quiet.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Alison inquired.

  “If this is all true, my whole life will be uprooted. I mean, I thought I was set for the next twenty years with my modern house, loyal husband, and two-point-three kids attending one of the top-ranking schools in the county. But that county is Spencer’s. I’m the city girl. I think Lily and I would be expected to move back to the city, right? Then I will have to go through all of that school stuff alone.”

  “Well, not really. Spencer will always be her father.”

  Olivia’s eyes filled with fear. Alison’s expertise in recognizing the subtle changes in people’s emotions was not needed here. Olivia rushed to the corner garbage pail, gripped it with both hands, and vomited.

  As Alison rubbed her hand up and down Olivia’s back for comfort, she thanked her lucky stars that Marc Sugarman wanted no part in Zachary’s life. Whether guilty or innocent, Olivia would be dealing with Spencer York when making every major decision in Lily’s life for as long as they both shall live.

  Alison would never describe herself as a warm person, but she felt surprisingly motherly toward Olivia. Sisterly would probably be more appropriate, she thought, considering the ten years between them. She pointed to a bench across the street.

  “Do you want to take a minute?”

  “No. Let’s just keep going. I’ll never be ready for this; I feel like I’m headed for my execution.”

  “I know this is awful, but it’s the best course of action you can take. Plus, Andie Rand is wonderful, and my closest friend. We’re not walking into some seedy office to meet with a man in a trench coat.” Olivia shook her head up and down, and Alison took it as a sign to proceed.

  Andie was wonderful, as Alison knew she would be. She really got Olivia to relax. She listened to her whole story and took down a complete timeline of the relationship. Alison noticed that she didn’t ask pointed questions about Spencer’s character or whether he had a history of dishonesty. It struck her as odd, as she definitely would have dug into those tough subjects to get a sense of what they were up against. But Andie’s next question explained her approach.

  “So, before I give you any advice, I have something to ask you. You need to sit with it and answer with complete honesty.” She took a beat while Olivia agreed. “What will you do if we find out that Spencer is cheating?”

  Olivia did not need to sit with that question. She had been sitting with that question since it first entered her mind.

  “I will divorce him,” she sai
d firmly. Andie was not letting her off that easy.

  “You say that, but what if in the end he is completely remorseful or offers any number of mitigating circumstances.”

  “I will divorce him. I am a twenty-eight-year-old feminist woman intent on raising a feminist daughter. We are just starting out on this journey together. There are no circumstances that would make me suck it up.”

  Alison looked at her new friend with pride. Andie was more skeptical and pressed further.

  “So, you’re saying that if we proceed and gather evidence against him, and if he reacts by falling to the floor in tears and hysterics and tells you he has made a terrible mistake and will do anything to keep you and your family together, you won’t consider it? You’d still want a divorce?”

  Olivia paused to think, but the lawyer in Alison believed it was just a tactic to demonstrate to Andie that she was taking her line of questioning seriously.

  “There is no doubt in my mind: If he’s been cheating, I would want a divorce, especially since Lily is too young to know any differently.”

  Alison was too curious about Andie’s process not to ask. “Why does this make a difference in how we would proceed?”

  Every time Alison said “we,” Olivia counted her blessings.

  Andie explained. “There are many tools that we can use to get to the bottom of this relatively quickly, but most of them involve some kind of surveillance. If you want to divorce, then it doesn’t really matter if you read his emails, tap his phone, go through his pockets—so be it. But if you want to stay together and work things out, this will all be a problem. He will hold your spying on him over your head just as you will hold the affair over his. I’ve seen it time and time again, with disastrous outcomes.”

  “But you’re assuming guilt,” Alison countered.

  “OK, so let’s say we do these things, and we find out he’s innocent. Then what? Now you have the secret. You have actually betrayed him. I’ve seen that destroy a marriage as well.”

  They both nodded their heads as she spoke, taking in the complexities of the situation. She made good points. Alison stepped into the protective older sister role that she’d adopted.

  “So, what do you suggest she does? This is torture for her.”

  “I know. But if this is to be done right, there are no shortcuts. Like I said when we first spoke, a cheater is a liar. They go hand in hand. You cannot trust him to tell you the truth; you have to find out the truth on your own, and then present your case. You’re actually lucky. You have a first step available to you that doesn’t involve surveillance.”

  Both Alison and Olivia sat forward in their seats to hear Andie’s suggestion.

  “Contact the moderator of that bulletin board and ask who Anonymous is.”

  Olivia was skeptical.

  “What makes you think she would tell me that?”

  “I’m assuming she’s not a priest.”

  “But still. I mean, I wouldn’t break that trust.”

  Andie smiled confidently. “Bring your new friend with you. Alison is the best criminal attorney in New York. She can get anyone to talk.”

  Alison agreed, not on being the best, but on getting the woman to turn. Andie handed Olivia a piece of paper.

  “Her name is Eliza Hunt. Here’s her address. Start with this and see where it leads us.”

  Olivia took the sheet of paper. She had seen the street name before. She already felt better with just the little bit of control this plan was affording her.

  “Will you come with me?” she asked Alison.

  “Of course. I’m all in.”

  “OK, let me know what you find out,” Andie said, standing up to get things moving along. She had happily squeezed them in, but she always tried to keep half an hour between appointments to avoid any waiting room crossover. Most people who sought out her help bordered on paranoid, and often with good reason.

  “What do I owe you?” Olivia asked, even though she had no idea how she would pay without Spencer knowing about it.

  “All I did was a few searches. No worries,” Andie said as she hugged Alison goodbye.

  “Do you want one, too?” she asked Olivia, laughing.

  “Please,” she answered with open arms.

  * * *

  —

  They decided to stop for lunch on the way back to Grand Central. On the way home they ducked into the Campbell Apartment right in Grand Central for a quick bite. It was one of those hidden New York gems that, oddly enough, neither of them had ever been to. After they were done oohing and aahing at the architecture, they settled into a cozy corner table.

  They ordered deviled eggs, a cheese board, and Moscow Mules, because why not? Olivia was clearly done discussing her marriage, so Alison offered up her own baby daddy saga. She began with a statement of defense: “I am in no way comparing my drama to yours, but do you want to hear it?”

  Olivia was happy for the distraction. She’d been curious about Zach’s paternity from the get-go but didn’t feel comfortable asking about it. She assumed Alison had used a sperm donor. She never would have pegged her for having an unplanned pregnancy; she seemed like the type that planned everything. Alison went on to tell her about her affair with Marc Sugarman.

  “At first it was fun, sneaking around, and I was happy to avoid workplace gossip. I could just imagine it whipping through the courthouses like wildfire. But now, looking back, I think it was his way of making sure we didn’t slip into a real relationship. We never even went to each other’s apartments—only hotels.”

  “Do you think there was someone else?”

  “No, I really don’t. Whenever we crossed paths socially, he was always on his own.”

  “It sounds like he has commitment issues.”

  “For sure. In all fairness, he told me that from the beginning. He had no interest in any sort of coupling whatsoever. From the little I put together it seemed like he was the child of a bad divorce and an abusive father.”

  “And he hasn’t been in touch since the baby was born?”

  “Nope. Andie tried to convince me to send him a note afterward, but I didn’t see the point. What was he going to do, send a copy of Goodnight Moon? He was very clear that he wanted nothing to do with us.”

  “I can’t believe it. I mean, imagine not even caring if it’s a boy or a girl.”

  “I’m sure he knows it’s a boy. There was a pool at the criminal courthouse. Hopefully they were just taking bets on the sex, weight, and birth date and not on who’s the daddy.”

  “I guess in a way you’re lucky. You’ll get to raise Zach on your own, and you won’t have to deal with anyone else’s opinions.”

  “The funny thing is, Marc has all the traits I would have looked for in a sperm donor. He’s exceedingly handsome and electrically smart. Hopefully his douchebag tendencies are nurture, not nature, and I will groom Zach to be a thoughtful, benevolent human.”

  Alison looked at the time. She needed a few things at the Apple Store, and they had wanted to catch the 5:49.

  “We’ve gotta run.”

  Olivia raised her hand for the check in response as Alison pulled out her wallet.

  “Put that away. This is on me,” Olivia insisted.

  “Don’t be silly,” Alison countered in typical “who picks up the check” banter.

  “I can’t even begin to thank you. I mean, even if, in the end, this is all paranoia on my part, the way you stepped up and helped me to take action and not be a victim of either Spencer or of my own fears is beyond. I think I would be curled up under my covers if not for you.”

  “I doubt that very much. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Most women make excuses for an eternity before taking any action to get to the truth. I’ve never been married and have no idea what it’s like, but I know that you are being extremely brave. Whatever happe
ns, I know you will be OK.”

  “Do you ever want to get married?”

  “If I ever find a man who’s better than no man at all, I’ll consider it.”

  Olivia laughed, both because it was funny and because it gave her hope that in the end, regardless of what happens, everything would turn out fine.

  CHAPTER 18

  Marc Sugarman

  Marc Sugarman pulled out his phone and checked himself in selfie mode before his eleven o’clock. He typically wasn’t that vain, but this wasn’t a typical meeting. An exploratory committee had been formed to seek the Democratic nomination, and word was, Marc’s name was at the top of their list.

  It wasn’t a surprise to him. He knew he was a natural choice to run for office. Although he hadn’t thought a mayoral run would be his first try, he was more than willing to listen to what they had to say. He hoped that they wouldn’t mention one of the more ridiculous reasons why people thought he was a viable candidate: his looks.

  As he analyzed his reflection in his phone, he acknowledged that he was, in fact, exceedingly handsome. And as if that wasn’t enough to tempt the more superficial constituents into thinking he was a contender, he strongly resembled the legendary mayor from the 1960s, John Lindsay. The first time he had heard it was at Yale Law, where it was pointed out by a very senior professor who had taught them both. His girlfriend at the time looked Lindsay up and it was true; they looked eerily similar. But the resemblance ended with their looks and their shared alma mater. Lindsay was a navy man and a guest host on Good Morning America. He was one of those appealing guys with a Kennedyesque charm who rolled up his shirtsleeves and used his personality to overshadow many a flaw. Marc knew that the same could not be said of him. He was more likely to be described as a bit of a prick with an annoying proclivity for sarcasm and arrogance. The perfect amount of arrogance, by the way, to stand his ground on the important issues. The people of New York City would be very lucky to have him on their side. He hoped that everything he had to offer—including his stellar record in court—was enough for a successful run.