Tess wondered for a moment whether Dom had really been doing it for her. She supposed he hadn’t, not really, not for a long time. For the past year, Tess had found that the slightest thing irritated her about Dom. His endless grooming before leaving the house, his know–it–all pontificating about the world’s ‘best places’, his terrible name–dropping about work: everything about him seemed to set her teeth on edge. Maybe they really had been growing apart, falling out of love. But it wasn’t that truth which hurt, the knowledge that she should really have done something about their relationship sooner. No, what really hurt was that someone she loved had preferred someone else. Seeing him grinning happily from the pages of the magazine had simply compounded every feeling of insecurity and inadequacy she had ever felt. Underneath all the career bravado and ambition were old wounds, and this had just torn them open.
‘If I hadn’t taken this job, we would never have gone to that Asgill Cosmetics launch and he would never have met Tamara … ’ began Tess.
‘Okay, stop that!’ said Jemma sharply. ‘You’re not a victim, Tess. You are a strong, beautiful, kick–ass bitch and you’re not going to sit here wallowing.’
She pulled Tess’s arm, dragging her into the flat.
‘Right, get in that bedroom and doll yourself up,’ she said sternly. ‘There’s a great salsa bar in the East Village. We’re going to go and drink loads of margaritas and find ourselves two chilli–hot men, then dance until they throw us out.’
Despite herself, Tess laughed. ‘Okay,’ she smiled, ‘But, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll give the men a miss and stick with the margaritas.’
CHAPTER THIRTY–THREE
The penthouse bar of the Clifton Hotel had taken over from the Gansevoort as the hottest rooftop watering hole in Manhattan and, despite her bad, distracted mood, Liz could not fail to be impressed by the views. In front of her the Empire State Building was lit up blue, red, and silver, like a giant platinum rocket, while the lights of Manhattan twinkled and shimmered like an Oasis in the desert. Inside the bar, the faces of the crowded party–goers were given a golden cast by the hurricane lanterns placed on the bar and the walls. It was cosy, yet exclusive – an apt location for tonight’s event, a Wall Street networking event–cum–drinks party hosted by the financial magazine, The Fund. Liz was here at Rav’s invitation and, as she looked around, she was amazed how few women went to these things. Perhaps that was accounted for by the fact that there were so few very senior women on Wall Street. If you weren’t in the boys’ club, you didn’t get on. Rav approached carrying two drinks with an apologetic half–smile.
‘Sorry,’ he said, kissing her on the lips as he handed her a stemmed Martini glass.
‘Whatever for?’ she asked.
‘For leaving you alone for so long.’
Liz was almost touched by his protectiveness, although suspected that his alpha–male routine was for the benefit of his fellow party–goers, most of whom Liz had noticed checking her out. No wonder, she smiled to herself: she did look sensational in a chocolate–brown, form–fitting Gucci dress that accentuated her slim waist and pert breasts.
‘Don’t worry, I can look after myself,’ she said with just the right balance of censure and flirtation. Rav’s dark eyes danced across Liz’s before he spoke.
‘I’ve just been speaking to some of the guys from Petersen’s,’ he said name–checking the boutique investment bank and jerking his thumb towards a group of suits standing by the bar. She glanced at her watch, already bored, already having dismissed Rav’s banking friends as being too far down the pecking order to be of any importance. In fact, in the ten minutes she had been sitting on her own, she had worked out there was no one here worth meeting that she didn’t already know and, as she had a hair appointment at seven a.m. with Enrique at Skin Plus, she wanted an early night.
‘A group of them have rented a chalet in Aspen for Christmas,’ continued Rav. ‘They wanted to know if I wanted in.’
‘Sounds fun,’ shrugged Liz. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘It’s over Christmas and New Year.’
Liz smiled at Rav’s ham–fisted transparency. ‘Is that a roundabout way of asking me if you’re invited to Brooke and David’s wedding?’ she asked archly.
‘Well, I didn’t know if it was going to a happen over the holidays,’ he stammered.
‘You’re a bad liar, darling,’ she smiled, touching his chin. ‘One of the tabloids ran a story this week that it’s happening on New Year’s Eve, and I know you read those awful rags because I’ve seen you.’
Watching him smile like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, Liz realized that she did not entirely object to Rav being at Brooke’s wedding with her. He made her laugh, sometimes, and while he had not introduced her to anyone important, he had provided a distraction this summer. At weekends he took her to parties in the Hamptons; he was a more than competent tennis partner and he was generous with his money. Although Liz generally preferred older men, the beauty of a younger man – particularly one in clear awe of Liz’s sexuality – was his eagerness.
Her eyes wandered across the crowd and met a familiar stare. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said. ‘Leonard’s here.’
She strode over, but instead of an embrace, she met her uncle with a challenging stare. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she demanded.
‘You’re not the only one with friends on Wall Street,’ replied Leonard with a half–smile. ‘Not that I’m fitting in here, by any means. The banking profession gets younger every time I look.’
He accepted a cocktail from a passing waiter and looked at the purple concoction curiously while Liz watched him. This was the first time Liz had spoken to Leonard since the Asgills’ board meeting the day before, when William and Meredith’s plan to put Asgill Cosmetics up for sale had been officially ratified. While she was still angry, she knew she had to step carefully; Leonard was no fool, and had many friends and allies both inside the company and out.
‘Liz, I just want you to know that I respect your judgement and I know how much the family business means to you,’ said Leonard, addressing the unspoken.
‘Which is why you sold me down the river in the board meeting?’ asked Liz, her tone light, but the point deliberate. Liz had spent the previous week considering her options, even discreetly consulting an attorney to discuss suing her family. It had been disappointing; the lawyer had advised that direct legal action was possibly not the best course of action until she had explored every other avenue, first trying to persuade the board not to sell. Unanimous board approval was needed for a company sale, and so immediately she had picked off the three board members she thought might listen to what she had to say, taking them to the city’s best restaurants and giving them her impassioned plea not to approve the sale. Even as she was doing it, Liz knew it wasn’t going to be enough. She knew that even the board members who were prepared to listen to her didn’t exactly like her. It was obvious why: time and time again, Liz had showed up their shortcomings. To Liz’s mind, it was deeply unfair that she was being penalized for being the only voice on the board willing to speak out and make brave suggestions, even if it meant disrupting the status quo. They thought she was a bitch; she thought they were pussies.
In the event, only Leonard had raised any objections to the proposed sale. Liz was pleased; she had always had a much closer relationship with her uncle than her mother and, while he had an annoying tendency to sit on the fence, at least he seemed to respect Liz’s capabilities. She had been outraged therefore when he had capitulated under the full force of Meredith’s disapproving gaze and had voted for a sale. Left without allies, Liz had also been forced into a ‘yes’ vote, knowing that if she were the sole dissenter her mother, with her majority shareholding, would simply vote her off the board.
I hate my family, she thought suddenly, closing her hands into tight fists.
‘Anger isn’t going to achieve anything, Liz,’ said Leonard, catching the ges
ture.
‘I’m not angry. Just disappointed,’ she said as evenly as she could. ‘Although I knew you would all just stick together like sheep, following mother’s lead as always.’
‘My decision was for the long–term good of the company, not your career,’ said Leonard. ‘Your time will come.’
‘And when will that be?’ she asked tartly.
He paused to look at her, the light from the lamps making his face ghostly pale.
‘Meredith won’t stay chairman of the board forever, Liz.’
She rolled her eyes. Yeah, right. Her mother was not yet seventy, and strong as a horse. She could keep going for another ten years at least, just popping in for meetings, being wheeled out for events. Estée Lauder had been a figurehead for their company until her nineties. Besides which, with Meredith and William in charge, Asgill’s might be finished in three years, let alone thirty. It was a fear that had kept Liz up at night. Without her work, her business, what did she have left? Staring down the barrel of forty with no business, no relationship, no family – where did that leave her in the world? She could start again, of course, but if her family drove the Asgill brand into the ground, they would take her reputation with it; she would find it difficult to find any backers.
Anger isn’t going to achieve anything, Liz; that’s what Leonard had said. Well, anger was all she had. She could not tolerate the thought of little doe–eyed Brooke ending up with everything, while she ended up with nothing, living off the reflected glory of her sister’s charmed life. Not that Liz wanted Brooke’s life – in fact that looked like hell to her: following a man around, simpering and smiling, pleasing. No, Liz was not jealous, she was simply meritocratic: she wanted a chance to prove how good she was. But right now, Liz saw that it was pointless to give Leonard a hard time. She had tried reason and it had failed, she would have to come up with something more effective.
‘When this deal goes through, Liz,’ said Leonard, ‘I will speak to Meredith about stepping up your role at Asgill’s. I would recommend you be made Chief Operating Officer. You’d be practically co–chief executive, although I suspect you wouldn’t like to be “co” anything.’
Liz didn’t dignify the idea with a reply.
‘So when does due diligence begin?’ she asked, referring to the process whereby a potential purchaser investigated a company before sale. They would examine the company accounts, assess stock and contracts, look for ways they could make cutbacks or maximize productivity.
‘It starts on Monday, I believe,’ said Leonard, sipping his cocktail. ‘Bruno Harris has instructed Petersen’s and they are very efficient. I know everyone concerned is keen to get this deal through quickly.’
Liz looked over at Rav, laughing with his banker pals.
‘Me too, Uncle Leonard,’ she said, a plan beginning to form in her head. ‘Me too.’
CHAPTER THIRTY–FOUR
Tess licked the last of the Frozen Hot Chocolate off her spoon and pulled a face at Jack.
‘Now I feel completely sick,’ she said. She glanced down at the huge Serependity menu, wondering if they offered Alka–Seltzer as a digestif.
‘Come on, it was worth it,’ smiled Jack, still struggling through his giant banana split.
Tess did have to admit she was enjoying the famous Upper East Side eatery enormously. When she had promised to spend the afternoon with Jack and he insisted they go to Serendipity, Tess had groaned. Too many children, too much noise, much too much, she had thought. But once she had got there, she had discovered the restaurant was like a tiny Alice in Wonderland cavern full of sweet ice–creamy confections and happy people. She had also discovered that Frozen Hot Chocolate dessert was the perfect way to cool down on a stiflingly humid late August afternoon in the city.
‘I’m going to be really sad when I don’t live in New York any more,’ said Jack taking a long slurp of cola.
Tess pointed her spoon at him. ‘Hey, I thought you were embarrassed to be seen out with me,’ she teased. ‘Don’t tell me you’re actually enjoying yourself?’
Jack shook his head and looked serious. ‘I think I might be moving to Connecticut,’ he said.
Tess sat back, momentarily thrown. Over the past few months, Jack had almost become part of the furniture, turning up at inopportune moments, raiding the fridge, hogging the cushions when they were watching reruns of Seinfeld. Jemma thought he was hilarious and would get into deep conversations with him about space and time travel, two of Jack’s favourite subjects. He had become part of their little impromptu family. But Tess had suspected this had been on the cards, especially as his mother had been visiting more and more frequently.
‘My mom has come back for me,’ said Jack. ‘I heard them talking a couple of nights ago.’
‘But I thought you liked it with your dad,’ frowned Tess.
‘I do.’
He looked down at his plate, drawing patterns in the chocolate sauce. ‘I don’t want to go Tess, but I feel bad about saying that because it’s my mom and I love her.’
He looked up at her, his eyes flat and sad. ‘Will you come and visit me?’
Throwing a fifty–dollar bill onto the table, she heard a nagging voice inside her head telling her not to get too involved.
‘Come on, I’d better get you home,’ she said.
Tess had never been inside Jack’s apartment before and was pleasantly surprised by what she saw. From the outside, the building was scruffy and run–down, but inside it was very nice; actually better than her own apartment in many ways, not least in terms of space. It had four large rooms with high ceilings and a bright living room/kitchen painted pale grey with bold prints on the walls. As they walked in, Kevin was sitting at the computer, a concentrated frown on his face.
‘Hey,’ he said, standing up as he saw Tess, running a flustered hand through his hair. ‘I didn’t expect you so soon.’
‘Sorry,’ said Tess, ‘I hope I’m not disturbing anything.’
‘No, no, come in. Let me get you some coffee,’ he said.
Tess sat down on the bright yellow sofa with Jack. Immediately, the boy began whispering in her ear.
‘Why do I get the feeling you’re about to gang up on me about something?’ said Kevin, putting a mug of coffee on a coaster in front of Tess.
‘Jack told me about his mother.’
Kevin nodded and looked at Jack. He pulled a crumpled five–dollar bill from his pocket and handed it over. ‘We need bread. Go get some.’
‘Oh I get it,’ said Jack, grinning as he got up. ‘Adult talk.’
Tess waited until she heard the door close, then looked at Kevin seriously. ‘Listen, I know none of this is my business,’ said Tess, cradling her coffee, ‘but Jack told me he wants to stay with you, so I was wondering why does Melissa want him back all of a sudden?’
‘You met Steven,’ sighed Kevin. ‘Apparently it’s serious, and what I hear is he can’t have kids and wants a family. So, Melissa wants Jack in her life full–time again.’
Kevin was trying to be matter–of–fact, but Tess could tell that this was troubling him deeply. ‘Steven’s a rich guy,’ he said. ‘And rich guys always get what they want, don’t they?’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Tess. Once again her inner voice told her to butt out, but she couldn’t help feeling sympathy for Kevin’s plight. Tess had always got the feeling that Melissa only liked spending time with her son when it suited her. In the short time Tess had known the family, there had been at least three weekends when Melissa had stood Jack up. She always called after the fact to offer some unavoidable crisis as explanation, but Tess saw the effect it was having on Jack. He tried to brush it off, but he was just a kid and he took each missed visit as a rejection.
‘I don’t know a great deal about family law in New York,’ said Tess, ‘but I do know you’re the primary carer. Surely they can’t just take him away?’
‘Problem is, I haven’t officially got custody of Jack,’ said Kevin. ‘Melissa and I never
married. Never saw the point, to be honest. And, as it turned out, I was right about that.’
‘Ah, let me guess?’ said Tess. ‘She was having an affair.’
Kevin snorted. ‘Yes, with a so–called friend of mine from Buffalo while I was in Iraq. She left me a few weeks after I’d got home, which was real nice. I said I wanted Jack to stay with me; after all, I came back from Iraq to find I’d lost Melissa. I didn’t want to lose my son as well.’
‘And she agreed to that?’
‘It was the one thing we didn’t really argue over. Can you believe not fighting to keep your child? Man, I cut that woman a lot of slack in my time, but I could never understand that one. Anyway, when his mother moved downstate, I moved too. Not too close to her, of course, but close enough so we could still keep the agreement.’
‘So have you seen a lawyer?’
‘Well, I got legal advice,’ he said slowly, not quite meeting her eye.
‘Which is what?’
Kevin looked sheepish.
‘I’ve been on the Internet looking up the law. There’s this really good site where people reply to your legal problems. Eric from New Jersey says my position would be stronger if Melissa and I had been married.’
Tess was shaking her head. ‘And you trust Eric from New Jersey?’ she said incredulously.
She walked over to the computer. There was a large pile of books on the windowsill behind it and she could see that most were legal texts from the library and, on the desk, pages and pages of notes. She turned back to him.
‘Kevin, you can’t do this on your own. Their lawyers will crucify you.’
Kevin looked defensive.
‘So I guess you know how much lawyers cost in America?’ he said.
‘But he’s your son!’
‘Hey, I would walk into hell for that boy,’ he said angrily, but, but … ’ His voice cracked and he sank down onto the sofa. ‘… I just don’t have the money.’
His hands went to his face and, when he looked back up, Tess saw tears glistening in his eyes.
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