Independently Wealthy: A Novel

by Lorraine Zago Rosenthal

  Ned nodded. “Yes … his popularity and prestige have reached a nauseating height.”

  I could practically smell Ned’s envy. I didn’t blame him for that, but I couldn’t indulge it. I sat back in my chair, crossed my legs, and got serious. “Ned,” I began, “I understand how you feel about Charlie. But are you going to let that stand in the way of a smart business move? I’m sure Edward wouldn’t.”

  He glared at me. “I was wrong. You are trying to screw with my mind.”

  “I’m just telling you the truth. You know that.”

  He kept glaring. Then he rolled his chair closer to his desk and deliberately knocked over a metal cylinder filled with pens. They spilled across the desk and fell to the floor.

  “Damn it,” he said, but I knew he wasn’t angry about the pens or even at me. He was just furious that a prime opportunity had arisen and he couldn’t grab it without sacrificing some pride. “Okay … I give up. You’re right … it would be a smart move to steal Charlie away from ABN. But are you sure he’d even consider working here? People in the industry know I’m ousting Parker … and Charlie hasn’t tried to snag the job.”

  “He probably thinks you’d never consider him for it. But you’re a bigger man than that … aren’t you, Ned?”

  He combed both hands through his wavy hair. “To be honest, Savannah … I’m not sure.”

  I pushed back my chair and stood up. “Give what I said some thought … and I bet you’ll see that offering Charlie that job is the best thing to do in more ways than one. And remember this,” I said, pointing my finger at him. “Knowing what is right to do and not doing it is sin.”

  Ned squinted at me. “What the hell is that … some kind of a riddle?”

  “Sort of,” I said. “But I think you can figure it out.”

  Twenty-six

  A box of cupcakes was delivered to my place on Saturday morning, fresh from a bakery on the Upper East Side. Happy Twenty-fifth was printed on a card inside. Always, Jack.

  “I only mentioned my birthday in passing,” I said into the phone as I sat at my kitchen table with flower bouquets and a bunch of Mylar balloons from Mom and Tina. “I’m impressed you remembered, Jack. Thank you so much for the cupcakes.” I lifted the lid on the box and ogled a swirl of vanilla icing.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and I heard noise behind him—people talking and an undecipherable voice over an intercom. “I’m at LaGuardia … I’m heading to Chicago for a week on business. But I’d like to take you out for a belated birthday dinner when I get back.”

  A balloon in the shape of a star broke away from the rest. I reached for it, but I wasn’t quick enough and it floated toward the ceiling. “I’d love to … and it’s thoughtful of you to offer.”

  “Not really,” Jack said. “I do the same for all my friends.”

  I laughed, we talked until his flight was ready to board, and then I left my phone on the table and walked down the hall to my office. I had a video chat scheduled with Mom and Tina, and it wasn’t long before they appeared on my monitor. They were together at Mom’s, sitting on her plaid couch, which Mom held on to no matter how much money I sent her. I wished she’d buy a better one, but it was nice to know that no matter how much things changed, some things always stayed the same.

  “Ya’ll look great,” I said, smiling at Mom’s auburn curls and Tina’s emerald eyes.

  “So do you,” Mom said. “Happy birthday, baby.”

  “I’ve lived a quarter of a century,” I reminded her. “I’m no baby.”

  “But you’ll always be mine,” she said.

  “We miss you down here,” Tina added, reaching toward an end table. She pulled a Yellow Jessamine from a glass vase and held it up by its stem.

  “Don’t touch the petals. You’re allergic,” I reminded her.

  “I know. And you probably miss these. They bloomed just a few weeks ago.”

  “Beautiful,” I said. “Just like the flowers you two sent me. Thanks so much.”

  Mom smiled. “You’re welcome. How are you celebrating today?”

  “By myself,” I told her. “I do have plans … Tony invited me to his daughter’s latest dance recital this afternoon—it’s for her ballet class—and then he’s driving me to a show at Trish’s art gallery. But nobody other than Jack knows it’s my birthday … I don’t want them to feel obligated to do anything, and I’m satisfied to enjoy it alone. So stop giving me your compassionate look, Tina Mae Brandt … I’m perfectly happy.”

  “Okay,” she said with a nod. “Then I’m happy, too.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” I asked. “Going out with Bryce Newell?”

  “I am … and we’re also taking Raylene to see a movie. She’s crazy about him.”

  “Well,” I said, “if your little sister has put her stamp of approval on that boy, then you’ve got no worries. Maybe you can bring Raylene and Bryce along when you and Mom visit me this summer. That is … if you’re still planning to come.”

  “Nothing could keep us from it,” Mom said.

  “Let’s toss around some possible dates,” Tina added. “Would July work?”

  It worked for me, and it was so hard to believe that April was two days away and summer waited around the corner. It had once felt so distant, especially on that winter night when I heard “Summertime” echoing inside a damp subway station. I didn’t think about that much anymore, but I was reminded a few hours later, when I sat with Tony and Allison at a Staten Island dance studio. We were looking at an empty stage, waiting for Marjorie’s show to start.

  “Sorry to bring up a sore subject,” Tony said, “but that woman from Virginia … Tammy Burns, I mean … the plea deal she took got her two years in jail, right?”

  “Right,” I said as a line of seven-year-olds in pink leotards and matching tutus headed for the front of the room. Marjorie spotted me; I waved, and she smiled. “Why do you ask?”

  Tony folded his arms, watching Marjorie and the other girls take their places on the stage. “I read something about her this morning. She has an autistic daughter who’s staying with a relative while Tammy serves out her sentence. The father is supposedly some derelict loser … but luckily for the kid, an anonymous donor set up a trust fund for her.” He looked at me. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  I turned toward the stage. “I would not.”

  “Yeah,” Tony said, “that’s what I figured. It’d take a rare breed to give money to the child of a person who almost killed her.”

  “I suppose so,” I agreed, catching Tony’s smirk in my peripheral vision and wondering if he’d someday read about the money that had been donated to Halstead Simms’s family to make up for his name being unjustly smeared. Then the lights went down, and I was glad Tony couldn’t see me well anymore. It was hard to stifle my smile.

  *

  It was almost five when we left the studio. Tony had parked the sedan at the curb and Marjorie skipped toward it, still wearing her leotard and her satin ballet shoes. He and Allison and I trailed behind, and I slipped a cardigan over my dress as we walked. The sun was shining and the air smelled like spring, but the temperature had dipped from its record-breaking highs last week and a cool breeze blew through Allison’s red hair.

  “Savannah,” she said, “would you like to have dinner with us tonight?”

  “Allison’s a good cook,” Tony added, wrapping his arm around her. “My mother will be joining us … so you can finally meet her … and you’ll have plenty of time to eat. You don’t have to be at the art gallery until eight, right?”

  “Right,” I said. “And I’d love to have dinner with all of you.”

  Then we were in the sedan. Allison sat up front with Tony and I was in the back with Marjorie, who pointed out the window after Tony pulled into a space in front of their building.

  “There’s Alex,” Marjorie said.

  I looked through the glass and saw him walking toward the curb, dressed in jeans and a T-shi
rt and carrying a cardboard box. Marjorie opened the car door and rushed across the sidewalk toward him, and he put down the box when he saw her.

  Allison turned toward me from the front seat. “Sorry. I didn’t know we’d run into him.”

  “That’s okay,” I told her, watching Alex lift Marjorie into his arms.

  “He’s moving,” Tony said. “He found a bigger place in Brooklyn.”

  Allison reached for the door handle. “I’d better tear Marjorie away or she’ll never let him finish packing.”

  She got out of the car and shut the door, and I glanced over my shoulder and saw Alex’s Honda parked behind the sedan. The backseat was filled with boxes.

  “Want to take a spin around the block?” Tony asked.

  I turned around and saw him looking at me in the rearview mirror, and I knew what he was trying to do. But it wasn’t necessary.

  I shook my head. Tony nodded, and then we got out of the car and walked toward the building, watching Alex say good-bye to Allison and Marjorie on the sidewalk. He caught sight of me as Tony and I headed toward him.

  “How’s the moving coming along?” Tony asked cheerfully, like his tone would wipe the awkward surprise off Alex’s face.

  “Fine,” Alex said, looking only at Tony. “A friend of mine has a truck, and he’s going to pick up my furniture tomorrow. I just figured I’d bring the rest of my stuff to Brooklyn tonight.”

  “Brooklyn,” I said. “That’s a nice place to live.”

  Alex’s blue eyes turned toward me. I looked at the yellowish-gold circle around each of his pupils, the mole on his jaw, that little scar near his eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

  He remembered just like Jack had. I loved that. “Thank you,” I said with a smile.

  Tony lightly punched my shoulder. “You didn’t tell me. What’s wrong with you?”

  I laughed at his scolding tone. “Oh, you know … when a lady gets to be my age, birthdays don’t exist anymore.”

  “Sure,” Tony said wryly as he rubbed the thin layer of auburn stubble on his chin. “I forgot how ancient you are. Do I need to carry you upstairs to my place or can you stagger up there on your own?”

  “I think I can manage,” I said. “But make sure Allison purees my dinner because I can’t chew very well with these false teeth.”

  Tony chuckled and went inside the building. Alex looked at me.

  “I didn’t know you had dental problems since New Year’s,” he said with a wink.

  “No dental problems,” I told him, “but other kinds. They’re all sorted out now, though.”

  He combed his fingers through his dark hair as his face turned serious. “I’ve heard. You know … I almost went up to your apartment after I saw the news reports about what happened in the subway station. I actually drove past your building the next day, but I didn’t go in. And I’ve picked up the phone so many times to call you … and then I just … hung up.”

  The air was getting cooler; I hugged my arms around my sweater as the wind blew the scent of Acqua Di Gio my way. But it didn’t bother me at all anymore.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “The same reason I didn’t contact you after the first time we broke up. I figured you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

  I shook my head. “That wasn’t true then … and it isn’t true now.”

  He glanced down at a scrap of orange chalk that must have been abandoned by the teenage girl a few feet away. She was drawing graffiti art inside a square of cement. “I’m sorry,” Alex said, crushing the chalk beneath his sneaker, “that I discouraged you from what you were trying to do. I’ve seen on TV that you were successful.”

  He looked up, and I shrugged. “It wasn’t all because of me,” I said. “And I just did what I thought was right … same as you. There’s no need to apologize for that.”

  He nodded slowly, and we were quiet for a moment as a dog barked in the distance.

  “How are things at Femme?” Alex asked finally.

  “Very good,” I said. “You must be doing well at Fletcher Cole … Tony told me this new apartment in Brooklyn is bigger than the one you have now.”

  He folded his strong arms across his shirt. “It is … and I am doing well. I like my job and having a nine-to-five schedule, and I’ve been writing more … which is what I’d planned. I’m getting another short story published in a magazine … it’ll be out in June.”

  I smiled. “That’s fabulous.”

  He smiled, too. “I also made some contacts through my job, and I just signed a contract for a part in an independent film.”

  “Good Lord,” I said. “Seriously? Do you have to go out to Hollywood?”

  “Nah,” he said. “It’s shooting on location in the Bronx. I only have to take three days off from work to shoot my part … which is obviously very small.”

  “There are no small parts,” I said, and didn’t finish with There are only small actors because Alex seemed to catch the reference and laughed. “What’s the name of this film? And when is it going to be released? I’ll be first in line to buy a ticket.”

  “The movie is currently untitled … and it’ll be out next year. But you won’t have to buy a ticket. There’ll be a modest premiere in the city, and I can invite a few guests. You can be one of them … if you want.”

  He glanced down at the orange powder on the concrete like he was bracing himself for rejection. I was glad he’d had less of that lately, and he wasn’t going to get any from me.

  “I’d be honored,” I said, “to attend your debut. I can’t wait to start bragging that I have a movie star as a friend.”

  Alex looked at me as cars drove by and a group of women speaking Spanish walked past.

  “Is that what I am?” he asked.

  “A movie star? Well, you are going to be in a movie, so—”

  “No,” he said. “Am I really your friend?”

  “If you want to be. I mean … I don’t see why we have to cut each other off just because the boyfriend-girlfriend situation didn’t work out. There were other things between us that are worth keeping.”

  “I know,” he agreed, unfolding his arms. “Nobody has ever supported my career goals like you did. I wouldn’t have accomplished what I have if it wasn’t for you.”

  I shook my head. “I helped you with that first story. But I had nothing to do with the second one … or your role in the movie. You did that yourself.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “but you made me feel like I could. That didn’t go away when you did.”

  I suspected this was the way teachers felt when students resurfaced years after graduation, saying, I owe it all to you. It was the best feeling, knowing that a worthwhile part of me had stuck with someone long after I was gone.

  “You did something important for me, too,” I said. “You know I’d only been with one guy before you, and that put me in a vulnerable position … probably more vulnerable than I realized at the time. But you never took advantage … and I’ll always be grateful that when I dared to jump back into the dating world, it was with you.”

  Alex leaned his shoulder against the building. “I’m happy you feel that way. But I’m not the only trustworthy man in this city … even though it might not always seem like it. Remember that … okay?”

  He was looking at me intently, like he was trying to get a message through. I supposed he’d heard about my brief romantic relationship with Wesley Caldwell, and his point came across very loud and more than clear. It was the same one I’d made to Ned.

  “I’ll remember,” I said.

  We smiled at each other for a moment while that girl filled in a section of her drawing with pink chalk. Then Alex nodded toward his car and said he had something to show me. I followed him to the curb, where he leaned into the Honda’s backseat and pulled out a gym bag—the one I’d asked Tony to deliver after Alex and I had broken up.

  “I didn’t open this,” Alex said, l
ifting the bag onto the trunk, “until today.”

  “You didn’t?” Considering the shape he was in, I doubted he’d canceled his gym membership. “Why?”

  He leaned his back against the car. “I just couldn’t look inside. Memories … you know?”

  “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “I know.”

  “I bought a new bag and left this one in the closet. But it’s been almost three months, and since I was packing up my apartment, I figured it was time to face this thing. So I opened it,” he said, turning sideways. He unzipped the bag and riffled around inside. “And I found this.”

  He held up a piece of paper and the necklace he’d given me, the one I’d returned. I didn’t read what I’d written in the note because I remembered every word: I know you’ll be a success at your new job. Please keep the necklace … it wouldn’t be right if I did.

  “I was correct about your job,” I told him.

  “But not the rest of it,” Alex said. He stuffed the paper into his pocket and held on to the necklace. “If I’d known this was in the bag, I never would’ve kept it.”

  “I couldn’t keep it, either. You gave it to me because we were together … but then we weren’t. So I had to give it back.”

  Alex sighed as the necklace dangled from his fingers. “I understand … but I still want you to have it. So … will you take it as a birthday gift from a friend?”

  The sun was beginning to set behind him, streaking the blue sky with bands of fiery red. Birds twittered in the trees and that girl on the sidewalk was studying her work, and two women laughed raucously as they sat on the front steps of the building across the street.

  “I’d be honored to,” I said.

  Alex smiled, unlatched the chain, and locked it behind my neck. Then he put his arms around me and hugged me as I closed my eyes and pressed my face against his shirt. I felt so lucky to have another friend.