Independently Wealthy: A Novel

by Lorraine Zago Rosenthal

  “That’s not how she saw it,” I said.

  He nodded and tossed his papers and pen onto the table. “That was the problem.”

  I stared at him for a moment. “So you didn’t want to be her boyfriend. But why is that? Did you think a secretary from the boroughs wasn’t good enough for you?”

  He reached for a set of chopsticks on the table. “Don’t be stupid, Savannah. Would I have dated her at all if I felt that way?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe you overlooked it at first, and then you couldn’t anymore. And not that it should matter … but her father owns a chain of dry-cleaning stores throughout the entire city, and his house is huge. It’s probably worth millions. So if you think Celeste isn’t high-class enough for you—”

  “Damn it,” he said, clenching the chopsticks in his hand, “that isn’t what I think. I knew nothing about her financial status until just now … and it’s irrelevant to me.”

  I eyed him skeptically. “So the class thing isn’t why you broke up with her?”

  “Oh my God,” he said in an exasperated voice, reaching up with one hand to rake his fingers roughly through his hair. “That has nothing to do with it. You have no clue what goes on in my mind … so why don’t you stop trying to figure it out? And while you’re at it, go the fuck away and leave me alone.”

  He tossed his chopsticks onto the table. I stood up slowly and stared down at him.

  “You know what, Ned? Celeste’s brother thinks you aren’t worthy of her. There was a time when I would’ve disagreed with that, because I believed you were changing for the better. But after what you’ve done today, I can see I was wrong.” I leaned down, swiped my purse off the couch, and headed for the door. I was almost there when I glanced at him over my shoulder. “By the way … if you keep treating people like this, you will always be alone.”

  I reached for the lock, but Ned’s voice stopped me.

  “Savannah,” he said. “Don’t go.”

  I let out a heavy sigh and turned around. He was still on the couch. He motioned toward the spot where I’d been sitting, and I sighed again as I reluctantly headed in his direction.

  “Celeste,” he began after I sat down, “is better off to hate me, and I’m confident she does now. Her family probably feels the same way … and they’ll convince her to forget me.”

  “Stop being ambiguous, Ned. How can she be better off to hate and forget you?”

  He focused on his Rolex, which he took off his wrist and held in his hand. “I don’t want to talk about that … and I don’t have to.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed, watching him leave the watch on an end table. “You’re not obligated to explain anything to me … but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I put you and Celeste together with the best intentions, and it’s only right for you to tell me why you fouled everything up. But if you want to keep on being a soulless jerk … go ahead.”

  I crossed my legs and tapped my foot in the air. Ned rolled his eyes.

  “Thanks for the guilt trip,” he said.

  I shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

  We stared unflinchingly at each other until Ned stood up, walked to the windows, and lingered there with his back toward me. “I couldn’t…” he started, then gazed at the East River.

  I waited for more, but there was just silence. “You couldn’t … what?” I asked finally.

  It took him a moment to face me. He leaned his back against a window and folded his arms over his shirt. “I couldn’t…” he repeated. “I mean, I … I can’t. I can’t be with a woman like her. I thought I could, and I was handling it fine when things were casual … but then she started with the family dinner, the Italian tradition, the parents and the brothers, and…”

  He stopped talking. I suddenly remembered him telling me to lower the pressure and saying my eagerness about his relationship with Celeste was putting him on edge, and I wondered if I had even more responsibility for what happened today than I’d originally thought.

  “And you got scared,” I said.

  “No,” he replied incredulously. “Stop being a moron.”

  Of course he wouldn’t admit fear—not to me or Celeste or anyone—because Virginia had raised him that way. But I saw through his act, and I understood everything now—especially when I remembered Caroline saying I’m still not confident he’s ready to be monogamous.

  “You weren’t prepared for another relationship,” I said. “You thought Celeste was in Kitty’s league, and you felt things heading in a serious direction, and you didn’t trust yourself. You thought you might make the same mistakes again … and you didn’t want things to end with Celeste the way they did with Kitty.”

  Ned fiddled with his right earlobe. “In a manner of speaking,” he said.

  So I hadn’t been wrong about him after all. His intentions toward Celeste were noble, but he still hadn’t learned how to execute them in a way that wasn’t pure Stone.

  “You think you aren’t good enough for woman like Celeste,” I added.

  “Do you have an off switch?” he snapped.

  I had to be right or he wouldn’t look so angry. I sighed and moved on. “You should’ve gone about ending it differently, Ned … very differently … but if you thought you couldn’t do right by Celeste, it was best to stop seeing her. Still, I hope this experience showed you that I wasn’t wrong when I said there are plenty of women you could have a real relationship with.”

  He crossed his feet at the ankles, still leaning against the glass. “I must admit my pessimism has decreased.”

  “Then I guess you’ve also realized I was right about something else,” I said. “Every cloud does have a silver lining.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Considering what happened with Wes, I’m surprised you continue to believe that.”

  “I’ll always believe that. And I’m surprised you’re not gloating about what happened with Wes.”

  “Are you really?” Ned asked.

  I flashed back to our conversation in the limo, when I’d accused him of discouraging me from seeing Wes because he was worried about it how would look. Appearances are the least of my concerns, he’d said, and I didn’t believe him … but maybe I should have.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said, “I’m not.”

  He nodded, left the window, and took his seat on the couch. “I have to get back to work,” he said, glancing at the documents around him.

  “Well,” I said, “then I’ll leave. I’ll also stay out of your love life from now on … which is what you wanted in the first place. But can I give you one last piece of advice?”

  He gripped a leather cushion like he was bracing himself. “Go ahead.”

  “Don’t go back to what—and who—you were doing before you dated Celeste.”

  Ned’s hand moved above his left eyebrow, to the place where his skin had been sliced apart by a champagne glass. The doctor really had done a good job with those stitches, because only a faint mark was left. “I won’t,” he said.

  “Another thing,” I went on. “Don’t—”

  He looked at me wearily. “You said there was only one thing.”

  I ignored that. “Don’t get involved with someone like Celeste again until you’re sure you’re ready. And when you are … please remember that you’re better than you think.” I grabbed my purse and headed for the door, and I heard Ned’s voice when I was in the hallway.

  “Tell me something, Savannah.”

  I turned around. “What?” I asked.

  “Do you really believe,” he said slowly, “I’m always going to be alone?”

  I stared at him sitting by himself in that desolate apartment. I was sort of stunned that he cared about what I believed, and it made me unexpectedly happy.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t believe that at all.”

  *

  My cell phone rang when I was in an elevator at Stone News the next morning. I saw Mom’s name on the screen, but I didn’t answer becau
se I hadn’t spoken to her for a few days, and so much had happened since then that I needed to block out at least an hour for our next talk. So while the elevator headed toward my office, I sent her a text and promised to call soon. I also sent one to Tina saying the same, because we were due for a marathon conversation, too. Then the doors opened into Femme, and I was at my desk a minute later.

  “Good morning,” Kitty said brightly as she walked into my cubicle. “How are you?”

  I swiveled my chair in her direction. “I guess Ned told Caroline about my latest dating disaster, and she told you … and now you’re trying to cheer me up?”

  She was wearing a blouse made of persimmon silk, and she rubbed the collar between her thumb and forefinger. “Am I that transparent?”

  “Yes,” I said with a laugh. “But it’s fine … and so am I.”

  She smiled, moving her hand from her blouse to her shiny copper hair. “I’m happy to hear that. I’ve also been meaning to tell you,” she said as she pushed her hair behind her shoulders, “that your editing work is excellent.”

  “Is it?” I asked, stifling my excitement. “Or are you still trying to cheer me up?”

  She shook her head. “If my opinion has that effect, then I’m glad … but that wasn’t how it was intended. Your editing skills rival your writing talent.”

  “Thank you, Kitty,” I said, thinking I should start using my writing talent again. I’d have to find the time eventually, but I had other things on my mind now—including Celeste. I’d made a few attempts to call her last night, but she hadn’t picked up, so I left my cube and went upstairs to the corporate division, where I found her empty desk.

  “She quit,” Caroline said from behind me.

  I turned around. Caroline was standing there with her glasses on the top of her head.

  “Ned filled me in,” she continued. “He was here early this morning and then he left for a meeting. Fortunately, I had enough time to bitch him out for what he did to her. But I have to give him credit for one thing: He had the sense to be a prick before she invested too much time.”

  I nodded, glancing at Celeste’s desk and a framed photo of her and her family. “I guess we have to be grateful for that … as strange as it is,” I said with a sigh as I turned my eyes back to Caroline. “I wonder what she’ll do now … for a job, I mean. I don’t think she really needs to work, but I know she’ll want to.”

  “She’s a competent person with a college education … she’ll find something.”

  “Yeah,” I said, thinking about Celeste’s degree in art history and her artistic ability, and that made me think of someone else. “How are things going at Trish’s gallery?”

  Caroline reached up for her glasses and slid them onto her face. “Fine. Why do you ask?”

  “Because Celeste has the qualifications to work at a place like that … and I’m sure she’d want to. It’s the least we can do to clean up our brother’s mess.”

  She nodded slowly. “I’m not sure if the gallery is hiring … but if it is, I can probably convince Trish to give her serious consideration. I have a few of Trish’s cards in my office … you can pass one along to Celeste and tell her to call.”

  “I have one of those cards in my wallet. I’d love to give it to Celeste, but she seems to be ignoring me.”

  “Well,” Caroline said, reaching for a cardboard box on an empty desk nearby, “you can ambush her. When she called the office administrator this morning to give her resignation, she asked that someone pack her things and leave them with the concierge in the main lobby for her to pick up at noon.” She handed me the box. “I was going to have my assistant do it … but you’d be more appropriate.”

  Caroline returned to her office, and I got busy clearing Celeste’s desk. I went back to Femme after that, but I left at lunchtime and rode the elevator to the main lobby, where I stood by the revolving doors with that cardboard box in my hands. Then Celeste walked in, wearing a plaid coat and a matching cap.

  “Savannah,” she said, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. It’s just—”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” I told her as I fought my urge to explain things. I wanted her to know why Ned had jilted her and that it wasn’t her fault, but the truth might make it harder for her to lose all hope about him. Ned’s method guaranteed she would. “I understand. And this is everything from your desk.”

  I held out the box. She took it and clutched it to her chest.

  “I assume you’re going to look for another job,” I said, reaching into my pocket for the business card I’d put there earlier, “and I thought you might want to try this place.”

  I put the card on top of the box. She read it and then looked at me.

  “This is for an art gallery,” she said.

  I nodded. “It’s in the East Village … so it’s convenient to your apartment. Trish is the director and the curator … and I know her, and that’ll get your foot in the door. I also know you’ve tried before to find a job that used your degree, but I think this time you’ll have better luck. All you have to do is call the number on that card.”

  Celeste laughed. “Luck is one thing I rarely have.”

  I squeezed her arm through her coat. “Sometimes,” I said, “you have to make your own.”

  *

  It was five o’clock when Kitty stopped by my desk, wearing a coat and carrying her purse. “What are your plans for tonight?” she asked.

  I’d been working on an article, and I stuck my Frosted Tulip pencil behind my ear as I turned toward her in my chair. “Working late,” I said. “What about you?”

  She pulled a scarf from her purse and looped it around her neck. “I’m taking care of Ethan while Charlie is working.”

  “Do you do that often?” I asked.

  She nodded. “After his wife passed away, Charlie hired a live-in nanny who’s fantastic … but for some reason, Ethan likes to eat dinner with me. Maybe it’s my cooking.”

  “Maybe it’s you,” I said.

  She smiled as she stroked the tassels that hung from her scarf. “He’s such a wonderful boy, Savannah … and we really do get along well. I make dinner, we watch TV … Charlie always wants to pick up Ethan after work, but it’s really late then, and I hate for Ethan to wake up out of a dead sleep. So he stays over … and Charlie comes by in the morning before I leave for work.”

  “Sounds like a good arrangement,” I said. “Do y’all have breakfast together?”

  She nodded again. “Charlie would prefer to have dinner with Ethan and put him to bed at night … but unfortunately, his schedule doesn’t allow that. His show airs live and he has to be at the studio a few hours early to prepare. He loves his job, but working at night isn’t ideal … not to mention all his foreign assignments. He was fine with everything when he was hired three years ago … but back then, he didn’t know he’d end up raising a child alone.”

  “Yeah,” I said, thinking about Charlie’s wife and everything she was missing. I was sure she’d be happy to know that these days Charlie wasn’t raising Ethan alone.

  “Anyway,” Kitty went on, glancing at the work on my desk, “don’t stay too late.”

  I told her I wouldn’t, but I didn’t mean it. She left, I called Tony to let him know I’d take a cab home, and then I buried myself in work and kept going even when the nighttime cleaning crew arrived. I blocked out the sound of vacuuming, and soon it was quiet and I didn’t look at the clock for a while. When I finally did, it was after eleven.

  I headed out of Stone News into a mix of rain and sleet that blew my umbrella inside out the moment I left the building. I struggled to fix it while I tried to hail a cab, but I didn’t get any takers and I finally gave up on a taxi and staying dry. I dumped the mangled umbrella into a trash bin and rushed toward the nearest subway station, nearly tripping twice in my heels as sleet pelted my face and rain drenched my hair.

  Soon I was down in the station, where I joined a few other people in the stuffy air. A mid
dle-aged man with dreadlocks and mocha skin was playing a saxophone on the platform for spare change, and I stuck some cash into his jar. Then I walked a few steps away from him toward the tracks, listening to the murmur of conversation and “Summertime” coming from his sax.

  I smiled, feeling sure his song selection was wishful thinking. June seemed so far away as I shivered inside my damp coat. Still, it was nice to think about flowers and sunshine while I peeled off my gloves. I heard my train barreling through the tunnel when the song ended, and I turned toward the sax player.

  “That was absolutely—”

  Beautiful was what I’d meant to say. But I didn’t because I felt hands on my back and a shove that knocked me forward. I dropped my gloves and my purse, skidded in my heels, and fell onto a thick yellow line painted on the platform, where I stared into a dark trench at an overfed rat scurrying across the rails. I heard the roar of the train growing louder and commotion around me, and someone grabbed the back of my coat and yanked me to my feet.

  The train pulled into the station, screeching its brakes and sending up a gust of wind. Nobody rushed toward it like they normally would because they were all frozen and gaping at me. I saw an elderly couple, a group of Asian girls, a few businesspeople, and the man who’d been playing the sax. He was the closest and had to have been the one who’d hoisted me up.

  “That crazy chick almost killed you,” he said as he glanced between me and the exit. “Good thing they’ve got cameras in here … even though she was all covered up in that coat and baseball cap. I did see blond hair, though … it fell out of her hat when she ran.”

  Who had almost killed me? And it was a woman? That push had felt more like I’d been hit by a truck. I wanted to say all of this, but I couldn’t talk. I was shaking and my heart was pounding and I was wearing only one shoe. But I was alive and my limbs were still attached, and all I’d lost was a layer of skin on my palms when I broke my own fall.

  The train sped away and I spotted my shoe at the edge of the platform. It was near my gloves and my purse, and it teetered there before dropping onto the tracks.