by Joy Fielding
"I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying.”
"You don't think it's worth a try?"
"David, what would you say to a potential lawyer, say Nicole Clark, for instance," she offered, and immediately wished she hadn't. "Anyway," she continued, "say she told you she'd be delighted to join your firm but she wanted it understood up front that she wouldn't work past 5 p.m., and that weekends were out of the question."
"I'd tell her to find herself another law firm."
"Exactly."
"What can I say, Jill? I can't make up your mind for you."
"I know."
"Maybe you're getting your period."
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"Well, you know how you sometimes get depressed when—"
"Everybody gets depressed from time to time! Don't start on my hormones—"
“I don't want to argue with you. I've made my suggestion. You can decide to act on it or not."
"You wouldn't mind if I got my old job back?" she asked timidly.
"I didn't say that," he answered. "I'd probably mind it very much. As far as I'm concerned, all the old objections are still valid. But I also have to recognize that it's your life and your decision." He shook his head. "I don't happen to think that you're giving the teaching a fair shake. You decided almost at the outset that you hated it—although I think you hate the idea of it more than you actually hate the teaching itself—and you won't allow yourself to enjoy it. You feel it would be some kind of betrayal. To what, I don't know."
"You're way off base, counselor."
"Maybe," he said. "If I am, I apologize. I was just trying to give you my opinion."
"You don't give opinions," she said, sullenly. "You give lectures."
"Maybe I should be the teacher," he said, smiling, his hand back on hers.
"Damn it," Jill said, allowing a small smile to crease her lips. "Why'd you have to be so charming? I'm sorry, David. I'm acting like a spoiled brat."
"And I was probably lecturing. You're right. Sometimes I get awfully impressed by the sound of my own voice."
"I love you," she said.
David signaled the waiter for the bill. "What do you think we should do with the kids this weekend?" he asked.
"I don't know. A movie, maybe?"
"Think about it," he said. "Jason leaves for camp in less than a week. Maybe you could make a special dinner for him." Jill shrugged, thinking that all Jason ate was hamburgers and that Laurie never ate anything at all. David gave the waiter his gold American Express card. "Come on back to the office for a few minutes," he said. "You've got time” She looked skeptical. ”Come on," he coaxed. "We've made a few changes. It'll do you good."
"Okay," Jill agreed, thinking maybe David was right about her attitude toward teaching. Maybe she'd never given it the proper chance. She decided to try extra hard for her two o'clock class. No matter what she did, she knew, watching her husband sign the tab and tear off his portion of the receipt, anything was better than risking the loss of this man. He was better than a daily dose of Vitamin C. There was no way she ever wanted to live without him. It was as simple as that.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Plumley," Diane greeted her pleasantly. "How are you today?"
"Just fine, thank you," Jill told her husband's secretary.
"Good. Been looking around?" Jill nodded. "They made some nice improvements to the staff lounge," Diane continued. "And your husband chose all the new paintings."
"He told me. They're lovely."
The secretary smiled, turning her attention to her employer.
"Mrs. Whittaker has been calling you all morning," she announced as David walked past her toward his office. "And Julie Rickerd has called twice. She says it's very important. And a Mr. Powadiuk—I think that's how you pronounce it—he says could you call him, he came home from a fishing trip yesterday to find his wife had left and cleaned out their entire apartment. Didn't even leave him the paper plates."
David thanked her, taking the messages from her outstretched hand and motioning for Jill to follow him inside. He closed the door behind them, sitting down immediately at his paper-strewn desk. Jill went to the window and gazed out at the tops of the city buildings. "It's so beautiful up here," she said. "Like being in a different world."
David smiled in agreement and pressed the buzzer for his secretary. “Diane, get me the files on Julie Rickerd and Sheila Whittaker, please. And call this Mr. Powa—whatever-his-name-is." He flipped off the intercom. "What's this?'' he asked, sifting through the clutter of his desk and retrieving a delicate bud vase containing a single red rose.
Diane brought the requested files in immediately, somehow finding room for them amid the general clutter of his desk. "I'll call Mr. Powad—whatever," she said, going out again.
David flipped absently through the files, then looked back at the flower.
"Is there a card?" Jill asked, a queasy feeling building in the pit of her stomach.
David searched the top of his desk. "I don't see one," he said. "Probably Diane put it there."
Jill walked over to his desk and reached into the stack of papers, pulling out a small lavender envelope. She handed it to David.
"Didn't see it," he said, reluctantly taking it from her and tearing it open. He read it quickly and handed it to Jill. "I'll talk to her," he said.
Jill read the note aloud. "Thank you again for a most interesting morning." She lowered the note to the table. "Nicki," she said, repeating the signature out loud.
"I'll call her right now if you'd like. You can be here while I talk to her."
"No. No," Jill protested, "let's just leave it alone, okay? If you bring her in here, it'll only embarrass everybody. It's just a thank-you note. A very nice touch, actually. Just ignore it. Maybe if she sees she's the only one playing this silly game, she'll get tired of it and go home."
"That's fine with me. You're the one I don't want to see upset," he said.
"I'm not," she lied. "If I can survive Elaine, I'm sure I can outlive Nicole. Nicki," she minced. David laughed but the laugh stuck in his throat.
"Maybe we're reading too much into all this," David offered. "We're liable to get paranoid if we're not careful. She's really a first-class lawyer."
David's buzzer sounded. "I have Mr. Powa—he's on the phone," Diane said.
"I'll go," Jill whispered as David picked up the receiver. She bent over and kissed his forehead, her nose immediately catching the subtle scent of the rose.
He waved goodbye as she closed the door behind her.
On the other side, her heart was pounding wildly. She stood for a minute at the doorway and tried to catch her breath.
"Are you all right, Mrs. Plumley?" Diane asked.
Jill looked over at her husband's secretary, a pretty girl with dark brown hair and large blue eyes. David had always surrounded himself with attractive women. During his marriage to Elaine, he had often succumbed to their attractions. He lied easily and well, he had once told her. And often, she knew, when he was married to Elaine. Had he ever lied to her? Jill wondered, then threw the thought away with a toss of her head. It was something she preferred not to think about. Nicole might have grand designs, Jill decided, but that was all they would ever be.
"I'm fine," Jill told Diane. "I'll see you again." She started down the long, winding corridor.
You had to give the girl high marks for trying, Jill thought. She was very clever. No doubt she would make a first-rate attorney. She was so bold, so brazen. Coming right out and stating her intentions. Putting the wife on immediate guard, on constant edge. Forcing her to imagine hidden meanings where none existed, perhaps causing unnecessary friction at home, and laying the groundwork for small doubts to bloom into large ones. Bloom, Jill thought. Like a rose.
The best solution, short of murder, was simple indifference. She would not allow herself to get upset; she wouldn't even allow herself the luxury of sarcasm. Not in front of David, anyway. There would be no fights because of this gi
rl.
And David would be extra cautious, she knew. But also very intrigued. How could he be anything else? Annoyed? Maybe. Indignant? Possibly. But definitely intrigued. All part of the master plan: the insecure and suspicious wife at home, the intriguing other woman at the office.
She was almost at the end of the hall when the voice stopped her.
"Jilly? Jilly, is that you?"
She stopped and turned around. There were only two men in the world who called her Jilly. One was her gynecologist. The other was one of David's partners, a highly esteemed criminal lawyer with a fondness for outrageous clothes and irritating nicknames.
His name was Don Eliot and he stood before her in blue jeans and a brown corduroy jacket. She was surprised to see he was wearing a tie until she saw that the figure embroidered at its base was Mickey Mouse. Hello, Donny, she wanted to say, but thought better of it.
"Hello, Don," she said instead. "How are you?"
"Just wonderful," he said, taking hold of both her hands.
"How's Adeline?"
"Oh, fine. Great. The kids are driving her nuts, of course, but that's not unusual." He looked her over. "You look good," he said, as if commenting on the quality of a sweater. "A little tired, maybe. You getting enough sleep, Jilly?"
Thanks a lot for the compliment, Donny, she thought. His remarks were the last thing she needed to hear. "Do you ever get enough sleep?" she questioned in response.
"No, I guess not," he said. "Certainly not around our house. Can you believe we had two of them up running around the bedrooms last night at four in the morning—the two-year-old, who just learned how to climb out of his crib, and the four-year-old, who wanted to see what all the commotion was about. I tell you, Jilly, you and David have probably made the right decision not to have kids. It changes 7our whole life, I tell you. Of course, David already has two. That's plenty. We should have stopped at two. Five is crazy!"
Jill tried to smile, grateful that Don Eliot obviously required no comments from her end. She was afraid that if she did speak, she might cry. So David had discussed his intentions (or lack of them) with regard to future children with others. Indeed, had told them the decision had already been made.
"Well," she said, finally. "Few decisions are carved in stone. You never know."
“Thatta girl, Jilly," he said, patting her shoulder and starting to move away. "Oh, by the way, now that I've got you here—Adeline's been after me for weeks to invite you two for dinner. How about a week this Saturday?"
Jill could think of nothing to say, so she nodded her head.
"Good," he said. "I'll have Adeline call you, set up a time."
"Sounds good," Jill lied.
"See you then." He disappeared behind a curve in the wall.
Jill stood for a few seconds in the corridor, trying to collect her thoughts. Since that lovely episode in the shower, early that morning, the day had taken a distinct downhill turn.
"Looking for a way out?" the husky voice asked with just the hint of a smile.
Nicole Clark stood only six feet away. Jill stared at her with a look of what she hoped was calm superiority. "Thank you” she said. "But I know my way around” Gathering herself up to her full height, hoping desperately that she wouldn't trip over her own feet, she walked briskly by the other woman and out the office doors.
Chapter 7
The picnic grounds were crowded and they had to circle the park for almost half an hour before someone pulled out and David found a place to park. By that point, David's mood was less than jocular, Laurie's pout was more prominent, and Jason's stutter more pronounced. Jill shifted the food basket on her lap, hoping that no one would remember that this afternoon's outing had been her idea.
"W-we'll n-never get a f-free barbecue," Jason spit out, as they grudgingly climbed out of the car. 'There's a m-million people here this aft-aftenoon. There w-won't be any b-barbecues left."
"Then we'll have to share," Jill told him, watching David retrieve the large thermos box from the trunk of the car. "Let's go that way," she said, pointing straight ahead at the crowded campgrounds. "I think the whole city must be here today." She hurried to catch up to David, his two children falling behind. "Do you think we'll be able to find a barbecue?" she whispered once they were out of Jason's earshot.
"We'll find one," he said, forced good will evident in every syllable.
They did. It took twenty minutes, and they had to share, as Jill had predicted, but at least it was already lit and everyone had worked up a considerable appetite in the interim.
"It's so hot," Jason said slowly, as Jill handed him his second hamburger.
“What is? The weather or the hamburger?" Jill asked, feeling that the afternoon might not turn out so badly after all. They had found a comfortable spot which provided a hint of shade, and the people whose space they were sharing seemed pleasant and helpful, although their three-year-old was obviously not happy with the family's latest addition, an infant of only a few months who lay gurgling contentedly on the blanket.
Jason handed back his hamburger in silence, displeased by the amount of blood dripping from the pink meat.
"Hamburgers are better when they're not little black balls of charcoal," David told him.
The boy was instantly apologetic. "B-but I don't like it that way," he protested.
"I do," Jill said, taking it from him. "We'll make you another one," she offered, looking over at Laurie. "What about you, Laurie? Another hamburger?"
“I haven't finished this one yet," Laurie said, watching as the three-year-old ran by his young sibling, his foot just managing to brush sharply against the baby's side.
"Martin!" the child's mother warned, scooping the infant into her arms and shooting a withering glance in her son's direction.
Jill's attention moved back from the young mother to Laurie's plate, which had barely been touched. She hasn't started, let alone finished, Jill thought.
"More Coke?" Jill asked.
"It's not C-Coke," Jason corrected. "It's P-Pepsi."
"More Pepsi, then," Jill stated.
Jason shook his head.
"Laurie?" her father asked. "Some Pepsi for you, sweetie?"
"Nothing” the girl said. Her eyes traveled back to the young family, with whom she would obviously have preferred to be, Jill thought, watching her, and then she too looked longingly at the baby in her mother's arms.
"How old is she?" Jill asked the young woman.
"Three months," the woman answered proudly.
"It must be a hectic time," Jill said, indicating the small boy watching enviously only several feet away.
"It is, especially with Martin being so jealous," the woman nodded. "He actually peed on little Pamela the other day. Stood over her and peed all over her little tummy. I thought you’d die!"
"Your classic case of piss-on-you," Jill said, and the two women laughed easily while everyone else around them looked vaguely embarrassed.
"How can you talk to a stranger like that?" Laurie admonished.
"Why not?" Jill asked. "I'm old enough." As if to prove her point, she turned back toward the young mother and introduced herself. "You look wonderful," she continued. "You're so nice and skinny."
"I was lucky," the woman said. "I was all baby. And I've been exercising every day like crazy."
Jill patted her stomach. "I have to start," she said. "Actually, I'm going to a class this Wednesday. Rita Carrington's. Have you heard of her?" The woman shook her head.
"Can I come?" Laurie asked suddenly.
"Come where?" Jill asked in return, directing her attention to David's daughter.
"To the exercise class," Laurie answered.
"Sure," Jill said, surprised by Laurie's interest.
"M-Mom's getting one of those b-big gas b-barbecues," Jason ventured timidly at his father.
Jill watched David's face tense. "Is your mother also buying a cook to help her plop the hamburgers down on the grill?" he asked.
"Mom know
s how to cook," Jason said immediately in his mother's defense. "She's a great cook. She makes way better hamburgers than these” he added accusingly in Jill's direction. Jill noted the child had not stuttered once.
“So” Jill said, hurriedly trying to change the subject. "Are you looking forward to camp?"
"He better be," David answered, before the boy had a chance. “It's costing enough to send him."
"Mom says it's not costing half enough," Jason said, again with no trace of a stammer, his anger seeming to smooth his tongue.
"She's thinking of having a pool put in for next summer.” Laurie contributed.
"What the hell does she want a pool for?" David questioned. "She doesn't swim."
"She says she'll take lessons."
"Private, of course," David added.
"She's entitled," his son shot back. Jill could hear Elaine's voice. I'm entitled, the other woman said.
"Your hamburger's ready," Jill announced, wrapping the well-cooked meat inside a hamburger bun.
"Th-thanks," Jason whispered, looking guiltily away.
David reached over and ruffled his son's dark blond hair. "You're getting to be a good-looking little kid, you know that?" he said with pride.
Jason playfully knocked his father's arm from his head, shaking his head in the same way that David always did to get the hairs back in place. "L-like f-father, like s-son," he stammered shyly.
David laughed and put his arms around the boy's neck, bending over to kiss his forehead. "What do you think of the Moonies or the Hare Krishnas?" he asked, seemingly from out of nowhere. Jill had to stifle a laugh.
"Which one?" Jason asked. 'Th-they're two c-com-pletely d-different things."
"Like Coke and Pepsi," David said.
"Yeah," his son concurred. "Exactly."
Laurie nodded in agreement, her plate still untouched.
Jill watched the young family beside them gathering up their now-screaming youngsters and bundling them off toward their car. Little children, little problems, she heard David's voice repeating. Then she looked back at Laurie and Jason.
"And one and two, that's right, ladies, to the right. And one and two. Now switch. To the left. And one and two. And again. To the left. The left, Mrs. Elfer, that's the way. And one and two. Five more times. To the right now, ladies. The right, Mrs. Elfer."