Independently Wealthy: A Novel

by Lorraine Zago Rosenthal

  “I know. Believe me, it crossed my mind … and at first I couldn’t understand why he’d want anything to do with me. But he thinks what happened between our parents is their problem and not ours … and I agree.”

  Ned loosened his arms, dropped his hands to his legs, and rubbed the dark fabric that covered his thighs. “Savannah,” he said, “Caroline told me that you recently broke up with Alex, so you’re probably feeling lonely … which is why I’m sure this dalliance with Wesley Caldwell is merely a rebound. But you couldn’t have found a worse target for your affections.”

  “Is that right?” I asked tersely as I crossed my legs.

  “That’s right. And I couldn’t possibly feel less comfortable talking about this subject with you … but I have to. So here it is: We’ve both seen the picture of Wes leaving your hotel this morning, and I think it’s safe to assume he didn’t stay in his own room last night.”

  “That’s true, but—”

  Ned lifted one hand to shut me up and snatched his iPhone from me with the other.

  “I’m sure Wes appears to have feelings for you,” he went on as he typed into the phone. “He probably seems romantic and sensitive and all the other shit you women tend to fall for. But his true motive might be something more like this.”

  He held the phone out to me. I took it and saw a Web site that was like a dictionary of vulgar slang. Ned had highlighted a particular term.

  Hate-fuck, I read. Verb. To have sex with a woman you find physically attractive but loathe as a human. Used primarily as a method of revenge.

  I threw the phone back. It struck Ned’s knee and landed on the floor.

  “That’s revolting,” I told him.

  “But it happens,” he said.

  “It would never happen to me. I’m not dumb … and Wes isn’t that kind of man. For your information, he slept in my bed all night but didn’t touch me. That was his idea.”

  Ned grabbed the phone from the floor and stuck it inside his blazer. “Don’t get defensive. I’m only looking out for you.”

  I reached back to tighten my ponytail. We were in Manhattan now and stuck in traffic.

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “I know what I’m doing. So stay out of my love life.”

  “Like you stay out of mine?”

  My hands were behind my head and my elbows were extended. I froze that way for a moment, remembering all my recent meddling. “Okay,” I said as I lowered my arms. “You made your point.”

  “Have I?” he asked. “Unless you vow to never see that kid again, I won’t believe I’ve gotten through your thick skull.”

  “Wes isn’t a kid, Ned. You see him that way because you knew him when he was one. But he’s grown up now. He’s an attorney for Legal Aid and he’s devoted to helping people, and you have no reason to think so badly of him. He’s under the impression that you’re nice.”

  Ned rubbed his thumb against the deep groove in his chin. “He doesn’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

  “Then at least give him credit for thinking the best of people. He’s good-hearted … and ambitious, too. He wants to be a congressman someday.”

  Ned stopped touching his face and laughed. “He’s dreaming. At one time, his mother could’ve helped to further his ambitions … but the Caldwell name is worthless now.”

  I slipped to the edge of my seat as the limo made a sharp turn around a corner. “That isn’t his fault,” I said, sliding back to the center. “It’s too bad he has to pay for what his parents have probably done. But it shouldn’t affect his relationship with me.”

  “You two shouldn’t have a relationship,” Ned insisted. “How can you, anyway? It’ll probably take him years to abandon his political fantasy in D.C., and you’re tied to New York. There’s little hope of living in the same area code.”

  I shrugged. “So we’ll do the long-distance thing.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re that desperate. Before you know it, you’ll be sexting.”

  “I will never … sext,” I said, wondering if that was a legitimate word. “And there’s this newfangled contraption called a plane, you know. One of them flew me from D.C. to New York this morning, and another will bring Wes here next weekend.”

  Ned groaned. “So you plan to be seen in Manhattan with him? For God’s sake, Savannah, use your brain. Even if Wes does have honorable intentions toward you—which I seriously doubt—the whole thing just doesn’t look right. All our family needs is for Fabian Spader to post a picture on his Web site of you canoodling with a Caldwell.”

  “He won’t do that,” I said.

  “How do you know?” Ned asked. “Have you become BFFs all of a sudden?”

  I shook my head. “No, but … I mean … didn’t Jack tell you what happened?”

  “Jack?” he said, looking surprised I’d mentioned the name. “I thought he was your archenemy and you were going hate him forever and ever and ever.”

  “You don’t need to mock me like that. And you’ll be glad to hear I took your advice. I can’t say I’ve totally forgiven Jack … but I’ve accepted his efforts to make amends.”

  Ned stared at me as he twisted his cuff link. “What efforts?”

  So Jack hadn’t even mentioned what happened on New Year’s Eve to his best friend. That was impressive. “It’s a private matter,” I said. “Forget it. Forget about Wes, too.”

  “You’re the one who needs to forget him. A Stone dating a Caldwell is simply … unsuitable.”

  Unsuitable was the word that had convinced Wes’s last girlfriend to dump him. But I wasn’t her, and that brand of manipulation wasn’t going to work on me. Ned probably thought it had, because I didn’t argue anymore. I just stared out the window as we neared my building and stayed quiet until the car stopped.

  I snatched up my purse when the driver opened the door. Then I slipped off my seat, stepped onto the sidewalk, and leaned into the car. “I’m sorry if you think my relationship with Wes looks bad, Ned. But you shouldn’t be so worried about appearances and how they affect your family. Always keep this in mind: I’m a Morgan … not a Stone.”

  The driver went to the rear of the car to get my bags, and Ned reached into his briefcase.

  “Technically,” he said as he picked up his document and rested it on his lap, “you’re as much a Stone as Caroline and I are. Putting that aside, I’ve made what I think about your dating Wesley Caldwell very clear … and unfortunately, there’s nothing else I can do about it. So the last comment I’ll make regarding this situation is that appearances are the least of my concerns.”

  He grabbed his pen, flicked the cap into his briefcase, and started reading and scribbling. I stood there and watched him, stunned at his admission that I was equally Stone.

  “Your bags,” the driver said, plunking them down beside me.

  Ned was still ignoring me. I supposed he didn’t want thanks for part of what he’d said, and it was useless to continue our discussion of the other because I wasn’t going to change my mind about Wes. So I just latched onto my luggage and carried it into my building.

  Then I was inside an elevator that rose toward the eleventh floor and my apartment. I leaned my head against the wall, closed my eyes, and actually dozed off standing up. But I was startled awake by the elevator halting, the doors opening, and my phone ringing in my pocket.

  “Are you in New York?” Mom said when I answered.

  I walked into the hallway. “I got in a while ago. D.C. was great.”

  “So I’ve heard,” she said as I headed to my apartment. “I ran into Tina at Melvin’s Legendary BBQ last night. She was with Bryce Newell—who happens to be cuter than a sack of puppies—and she mentioned she’s not the only one with a new boyfriend. Imagine my surprise.”

  I was at my door, and I stuck my key in the lock. “I was planning to tell you,” I said guiltily as I went into my apartment. I kicked the door shut behind me, dumped my bags in the middle of the living room, and collapsed onto the couch
. “I was just a little skittish about it. I’m sure that while Tina was running her big mouth, she mentioned who Wes is.”

  “Don’t be ugly toward her. She thought I already knew everything.”

  I kicked off my shoes. “So do you think it’s a bad idea?”

  There was a long pause. “I’m not sure what I think,” Mom said finally. “But you’re an adult … and I have to trust your judgment. Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Then I reckon nothing else matters.”

  *

  Tony dropped me off at Stone News the next morning. Soon I was inside a crowded elevator and watching the doors slide shut; Celeste Natali slipped between them.

  “Welcome back,” she said as the elevator shot upward. “I see you’re wearing your gift.”

  I nodded, touching the earrings she’d given me. “They’re a bright spot as I get back to the grind. I’ll need a midday break for sure … so would you join me at Le Parker Meridien? We can finally do lunch, and that place has the best burgers.”

  “I know. I went there last week with Ned, and we’re going again today. Why don’t you come along? I’m sure he’d love that.”

  “He wouldn’t,” I said. “Ned and I are having a difference of opinion at the moment … and I’m not sure if we’re on speaking terms.”

  She looked concerned. “Whatever is wrong, you two should work it out. I have three brothers, and I can’t imagine not speaking to them. Family is everything.”

  “Well,” I said, “that depends on the family.”

  Maybe that was too much pessimism first thing in the morning. Celeste seemed uncomfortable, so I tried to lighten things up. “Anyway,” I said, “I don’t mean to pry … but I’m wondering how things are going between you and Ned.”

  She smiled. “They couldn’t be going any better.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief as the doors opened into Femme. Celeste and I said good-bye, I walked through the lobby, and I was heading down the hall when I saw Caroline and Kitty standing outside my cube.

  “I’m sorry,” Caroline said immediately. “I didn’t want to rat you out to Ned, but—”

  “But you had no choice,” I said. “That’s what he told me, and I understand. Besides, you weren’t the snitch … it was the PI.”

  “Who had the same instincts about Terrence Miller that you did,” Kitty added.

  I nodded as I walked to my desk, where I put down my purse and unbuttoned my coat. “So I’ve heard. And I’ve agreed to stay out of his investigation for the time being.” I hung the coat on the back of my chair and sat down. Kitty and Caroline joined me in the cubicle and leaned against my filing cabinet.

  “Ned is happy with that decision,” Caroline said as she adjusted her glasses. “But he doesn’t feel the same about the other one.”

  “She means Wesley Caldwell,” Kitty said. “Caroline filled me in.”

  I sighed and swiveled slightly in my chair. “Are you both going to tell me what Ned did—that I shouldn’t involve myself with Wes?”

  “I think we have to admit,” Caroline began as she looked between me and Kitty, “that when we heard you were seeing him, we were surprised. We had reservations.”

  “You can’t blame us for that,” Kitty said.

  “But,” Caroline continued, “based on what I know about Wes … I think he’s a good guy. Even though Ned’s bias against him is understandable, it’s also unfair.”

  “You should make your own decisions,” Kitty told me. “If you believe you and Wes can have a relationship in spite of everything, Caroline and I support you.”

  So everybody was in my corner except Ned. But I didn’t need him there.

  A few minutes later, Caroline went back to the corporate division and Kitty closed her office door for a conference call, and I was in the middle of editing an article when my e-mail beeped with a message from Wes. You’ve been gone for one day and I miss you already, I read. How many hours until Saturday?

  Too many, I thought as I smiled at the screen.

  But I was so busy at Femme that those hours passed quickly, and suddenly it was Saturday night and I was at home, getting ready for my date. Wes had told me over the phone a few days earlier that he’d be landing at four and he’d meet me at six. My hair and makeup were done and I slipped on a gray mélange dress made of wool, thinking it would be perfect for dinner at Peter Luger Steakhouse.

  “You look fantastic,” Wes said when I opened my front door.

  “So do you,” I told him, admiring how handsome he was in black pants and a light-blue button-down. His coat was draped over his arm, and it pressed against my hip when he pulled me toward him and kissed me like he couldn’t wait a second longer.

  Twenty-one

  “I have to tell you something,” Wes said.

  We were in a cab heading toward the restaurant, and snow flurries swirled in the air outside. I’d been watching them while Wes took a call on his cell, and now I turned back to him.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, squeezing his knee. “You seem nervous.”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s just … our date might be ruined. That was my father on the phone, and—”

  “You have to leave?” I guessed, hoping I was wrong.

  “No … but you might want to when I tell you this.” He slid closer to me. “You know my parents aren’t together anymore, and my father is living in Manhattan. You also know he isn’t working … and considering what’s happened to his reputation, he might never find another job. He’s been filling his time with traveling, but he’s between trips and I think he feels … lost.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to hide my lack of sympathy for Jonathan Caldwell. “But what’s that got to do with tonight?”

  Wes focused on the TV embedded in the back of the front seat. Then he looked at me again. “Before I made this date with you, he was expecting me to have dinner with him. He still wants to … and I couldn’t say no because if I did, he’d be sitting in the apartment all alone tonight. Right now he’s on his way to meet us at Peter Luger’s. So if you want the driver to turn the cab around and take you back to your place, I’ll understand.”

  I was tempted to take that offer. I’d been longing for tonight and I hadn’t expected to be forced into socializing with a tagalong parent—especially one who was the soon-to-be-ex-husband of my father’s mistress and might’ve had a role in Edward’s ruin.

  “You want to go home, right?” Wes asked dismally.

  A long stretch of silence passed between us. He looked so disappointed, and I couldn’t let him down. I decided I cared enough about him to tough this out.

  “No,” I said, resting my hand over his. “I want to be right here.”

  Soon we were in Brooklyn and at Peter Luger’s, which was in an old brick building that had a black awning over the entrance. We were seated in a corner room with lots of windows, and we weren’t there for very long before Wes’s father arrived.

  I could tell he’d been handsome once. I wondered if it was his recent circumstances that had grayed his thick hair and dulled his blue eyes and carved those craggy lines into his face. He was shorter than Wes and a little too thin, and he smiled at me when Wes introduced us.

  “My son has good taste,” he said.

  What a schmoozer. I forced a smile.

  “Savannah,” he began, “I just want to say that what’s past is past…”

  Oh, please.

  “… and it’s irrelevant to you and Wes. I’m hoping we can forget all of that and feel at ease with each other.”

  I wasn’t going to forget, and feeling anything other than awkward was impossible. But he’d obviously given that speech for Wes’s sake, and I resolved to endure this for the same reason.

  “Of course, Mr. Caldwell.”

  “Call me Jonathan,” he said.

  I nodded. Wes took the chair beside me and Jonathan sat across from us, but he did it slowly and held his back and let ou
t a slight moan when he finally reached the seat.

  “Are you all right, Dad?” Wes asked.

  “I’m feeling a little achy tonight,” he said. “But I’ll be fine.”

  A waiter came by with menus, and Wes and I perused ours while Jonathan started fanning himself with his. Then he grabbed a glass of ice water and guzzled it down.

  “Is it warm in here?” he asked.

  “No,” Wes said. “It’s sort of drafty, actually.”

  Jonathan abandoned his menu and leaned back in his chair. “This is one of my favorite restaurants … but suddenly the smell of prime rib turns my stomach.”

  “You’re nauseous?” Wes asked.

  “Very,” he said, gripping his stomach.

  “You might be coming down with the flu,” I told him, hoping that might scare him away. “It’s going around … and the symptoms usually come on quickly.”

  He nodded, resting his forehead against his palm. “I should probably leave.”

  Good-bye. The door is right over there.

  “Savannah,” Wes said, “I’m sorry, but … if Dad is sick, I can’t send him home alone. There’s nobody at the apartment to help, and—”

  “Wesley,” Jonathan interrupted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can take care of myself … and you should stay and have dinner with this lovely lady.”

  I was tempted to back him on that. But Wes seemed worried, and I understood why.

  “Wes is right,” I said. “I wouldn’t leave my mother alone if she was sick. We should go.”

  Wes squeezed my hand under the table and gazed at me admiringly. “I told you she’s an amazing girl,” he said, glancing at his father. “Beautiful, smart … and understanding, too.”

  “She certainly is,” Jonathan said in a weak voice.

  Wes pushed back his chair. “I’m going to the men’s room, and then we can head out.”

  He walked away. Jonathan kept his eyes on him until he was gone, and then he looked at me. “I’d make you an offer,” he said, “but nothing would be high enough, would it?”

  His voice wasn’t weak anymore. He wasn’t fanning himself or groaning. He seemed to have made a miraculous recovery, and I had no idea what he was talking about.