The Other Woman

by Joy Fielding

  "You think she's worried?"

  "Well, I guess it's like walking into a restaurant and seeing your husband having lunch with another woman."

  "Not all other women are threats."

  "Not all other women are after her job."

  "I was there first," Jill said playfully, recognizing her words as the same ones she had used when talking to Nicole Clark several weeks earlier, realizing suddenly how childish they sounded.

  "Yes, you were," Irving agreed, "but you gave it up. There's always someone waiting in the shadows to grab what somebody leaves behind."

  The woman at the end of the bar stood up and came toward them. "Irving," she said pleasantly. "Jill?" she asked, extending her hand. "Someone just told me that you used to have my job."

  "Jill Listerwoll," Irving began, introducing the two women, "or would you prefer Jill Plumley?" Jill shook her head as if to say that either one would do. "Anyway, this is Susan Timmons. You all ready for Africa on Monday?"

  "All packed and shot full of vaccine," Susan answered cheerfully. "I've never been to Africa before," she said to Jill. "Can't wait to go."

  "I always wanted to see Africa," Jill confided.

  "Get David to take you," Irving said, a bit too effusively. "A nice rich lawyer has to spend his money somewhere."

  "He does," Jill answered, thinking of Elaine.

  "Well, I hope we meet again," Susan Timmons said sweetly, almost sincerely. "I'll see you back at the studio, Irving."

  "I'll be there in a few minutes," he said, watching her leave.

  Jill took a quick swallow of her Bloody Marys, feeling her head swimming slightly. Liquid lunches were not her specialty and there was still so much she had to do. How on earth was she going to teach two classes on a stomach full of vodka and tomato juice?

  "Are you all right?" Irving was asking.

  "You're telling me you don't want me back," Jill said plainly.

  "I'd love to have you back, Jill," Irving said with obvious sincerity. "But at the moment, there just aren't any jobs available."

  "What about on a free-lance basis?"

  "You know how the network feels about free-lancers," he told her. "It would have to be a pretty special assignment for us not to use one of our own people."

  Jill felt her eyes start to water and immediately lowered her head.

  "Hey, I'm sorry, Jill," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to shut you out in the cold that way."

  "You can't help it," Jill said, recovering. "I just thought I'd try."

  He reached over the table and grabbed her hand. "I'm glad you did. And believe me, I want you back. Look, I tell you what, and this isn't a load of bull I'm feeding you either, you know how quickly everything can change in television." Jill nodded, thinking of the many unfamiliar faces at the bar. "Well, I think you know what I'm trying to say—"

  "If anything comes up, you'll call me," Jill answered.

  "You'll be the first one I'll call."

  Jill smiled, finishing her drink. "Well, I guess that's a start," she said.

  "You won't say no when I do," he cautioned.

  Her smile grew perceptibly wider. "I won't say no."

  The phone was ringing as she fumbled for her key at the apartment door. "Just a minute," Jill called, dropping her parcels and pushing the key into the lock. "I'm coming!" The door clicked open and Jill raced inside just as the phone stopped ringing.

  "Why do they always hang up just when you get there?" she asked aloud, retrieving her groceries and closing the door behind her.

  She began unpacking the bags, putting aside the present she had bought for David—a silk shirt in shades of blue and black, with big, artist's-style sleeves. It had been expensive, but she'd pictured David wearing it and he'd looked “SO” beautiful that she bought it, knowing he'd love it. She looked forward to his reaction when he unwrapped it.

  Jill looked at the clock. It was almost five-thirty. Dinner was one hour away, and being family, everyone would be prompt. Except probably the birthday boy himself.

  She was tired already. She'd been running around all afternoon on no lunch and two Bloody Marys. She needed a few minutes to put her feet up and let her head settle. She decided to relax for a few minutes in the den.

  The phone rang.

  Naturally, she thought. If they don't get you coming in the door, they get you as you're about to sit down!

  "Hello?"

  "Aren't we the eager beaver?!"

  The sound of Elaine's voice cleared Jill's head instantly.

  "Can I do something for you?" she asked impatiently, thinking of Elaine's earlier birthday greetings, in no mood to be pleasant to this woman with whom, it seemed, she was destined to spend the rest of her life. When there were children involved, she realized, there was no such thing as divorce.

  "Is my husband around?"

  "Your ex-husband is still at the office."

  "I called there. They said he'd left for the day."

  "Oh?" Jill tried not to sound too surprised. Was it possible David had actually been able to finish early and was on his way home?

  "Up to his old tricks, is he?" Elaine asked. Jill could picture the smug smile on the other woman's face.

  "I'll tell him you called when he gets home," Jill said curtly, hanging up the phone abruptly, hoping to wipe away Elaine's smile. No, she realized, looking over at the dining room table, all set up and waiting for the birthday boy, I'm the one who's not smiling. At this moment, Elaine is grinning from ear to ear in her fully equipped, newly renovated designer kitchen. "How does she do it?" Jill asked aloud, then finished the thought in silence—no matter what the circumstances, Elaine always managed to make her feel as if she weren't worth a plugged nickel.

  She picked up the phone impulsively and dialed David's office.

  "Weatherby, Ross," answered the crisp tones of the receptionist.

  "David Plumley, please," Jill asked, wondering if the woman recognized her voice. She hated wives who always pestered their husbands at work.

  "Mr. Plumley is gone for the day."

  So Elaine had been telling the truth. "When did he leave?"

  "About twenty minutes ago."

  "Was he going home, do you know? It's his wife."

  "He didn't say, Mrs. Plumley."

  "Oh. All right. Fine. Thank you."

  Jill replaced the receiver and walked toward the den. Twenty minutes ago meant he should be home. Assuming he was coming home. She angrily picked up the morning paper, which lay in a desultory heap across the brown leather chair, and plopped herself down, determined to read what she hadn't had time for earlier in the day. Determined to relax. Damn Elaine, she thought, flipping immediately to the Birth and Death Notices. Of course David was coming right home. He hadn't wanted to come home when he was married to Elaine precisely because he was married to Elaine. Jill Listerwoll Plumley was a different kettle of fish altogether. "Jill Listerwoll or Jill Plumley?" Irving had asked her. Why couldn't she be both?

  She looked down the long list of birth announcements. "It's a Boy!" one shouted, immediately followed by "It's a Girl!" Nothing unusual there. She glanced over at the death notices. Just once, she thought, she'd like to flip open the paper and see: "It's a Corpse!"

  The phone rang again. She dropped the paper and ran to answer it. She wasn't sure why she was bothering; it was probably Elaine again.

  “Hello," Jill said.

  The voice on the other end of the line was calm but carried with it unmistakable undertones of anxiety. "Jill? Am I getting you at a bad time?"

  Jill was instantly aware that the woman's voice belonged to someone she knew, but she was unable to connect a face to the words. "Who is this?" she asked, feeling clumsy and insensitive.

  "It's Beth Weatherby," the voice said quickly. "I'm sorry, I should have said—"

  "No, that's all right. I should have known." Why were they so busy apologizing to each other? "Is everything okay? You sound a little—strange."

  "I'm fine,"
Beth assured her, sounding more like herself. "I called a little while ago. I guess you were out—"

  "Yes, actually, I was just coming in the door when—"

  "I wondered if we could meet somewhere for a cup of coffee—"

  "Sure. When?"

  There was a slight pause. "I was thinking of now."

  "Now?" Jill's eyes went directly to the clock. It was almost six. Her guests would be arriving in half an hour.

  "I know it's an awkward time—"

  "Oh, Beth, I'm really sorry, but I just can't. I have nine people here for dinner tonight—family—it's David's birthday—"

  "Of course, I understand. Please don't feel bad. I didn't think you'd be able to make it—"

  "Is something wrong?"

  The voice regained its strength and now sounded like the Beth Weatherby Jill was used to. "Oh, no, of course not. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you. No, no. Al just called and said he'd be late so I thought if David was going to be late too, we could have a cup of coffee. That's all. A little old-fashioned female get-together since I missed the class again on Wednesday. I missed you. But we can do it anytime."

  "Well, I’d really like to. How about after class next Wednesday? We could make an evening of it, maybe go to dinner and a movie or something."

  "Sounds great."

  "Good."

  "So, I’ll see you Wednesday. Rita Carrington's at four o'clock."

  "Perfect. I'll see you then."

  "'Bye, Jill."

  "Goodbye, Beth."

  Jill hung up the phone, hastily scribbled Beth Weatherby's name in her calendar for the following Wednesday night, and ran toward her bedroom to change into something suitable for dinner.

  Chapter 12

  She had just finished serving the main course and was wondering what to do about the cake when David arrived home. Without intending to, Jill looked down at her watch.

  "It's ten after eight," her father whispered loudly from his place on the sofa.

  "Hi, everyone," David said easily, coming into the room to an assortment of grunts and muffled birthday wishes. Jill sat stiffly in one of the transplanted dining room chairs and watched her husband walk toward her, bend over and kiss her on the lips. "Sorry I'm late, sweetie. A few of the guys in the office decided to take me out for a birthday drink."

  "I called the office around five-thirty," Jill began, again without meaning to. "That was a long drink, two and a half hours."

  "Well, maybe it was more like two or three drinks," he winked. Or four or five, Jill said silently, angry and yet trying to hide her annoyance from everyone else. How dare he be so late! She seethed, ruining her dinner which had dried out waiting for him, embarrassing her in front of her family and his mother (who she knew was thinking that nothing had changed since he'd divorced Elaine). His mother sat between Jill's parents on the sofa. She looked over at Jill as if to advise her to say nothing more. Probably the same advice she gave Elaine. I am not like her, Jill's eyes trumpeted toward her motherin-law. Our marriage is completely different. Completely. He doesn't treat me at all the same way he treated Elaine.

  She heard Elaine's voice suddenly whispering in her ear. “If he treated me the way he treats you," she began before Jill cut her off abruptly with a toss of her head. I didn't invite you to this party, she thought, banishing Elaine's earlier admonishment from her memory and directing her attention to her husband.

  “Do you want your dinner now?" Jill asked.

  “No," he answered. "I'm not really hungry. I had a huge lunch. I'll just have some cake and coffee." He looked around the room. "If everybody will excuse me for a couple of minutes, I'll go get out of this suit—"

  "By all means," Jill replied sarcastically. "We've grown rather fond of waiting for you."

  David's eyes narrowed in obvious dismay. Then he smiled boyishly, kissing his daughter and tousling his son's hair before heading toward the bedroom.

  Jill sat for several seconds and then stood up abruptly. She was so angry, she felt she was going to cry, which made her angrier still. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to scream and yell and carry on. "Excuse me a minute," she said.

  "Uh-oh, f-fireworks," she heard Jason utter as she left the room.

  David was tossing off his jacket when Jill came into the bedroom. She didn't wait for him to turn around before speaking. "I don't understand you," she began, watching his shoulders stiffen. "You knew I was having a party for you tonight. You knew I'd invited the whole family, and that I was cooking a special dinner, busting my ass to make everything nice. I even asked you not to be late. And what do you do? You show up at eight o'clock when everyone else has been here since six-thirty and you have the nerve to tell me you've been out for a birthday drink with the guys. Not even a goddamn meeting! Something important, for God's sake, that you could justify yourself with. Something beyond your control. Not a couple of lousy drinks!"

  "Are you finished?" he asked icily.

  "No," Jill continued. "How dare you eat a big lunch when you knew I was making a big dinner?! Haven't you got any consideration for me at all?" She suddenly dissolved into tears, sinking down on the bed.

  David marched over to the bedroom door and closed it. "If you don't mind, I'd rather keep this private."

  "What difference does it make?" Jill shot back. "They all know what we're saying in here."

  David removed his shirt and threw it beside his jacket on the bed, pulling a fresh, more casual one out of the closet. "Look, Jill, I'm sorry. But I got roped into it. A bunch of the guys came into my office as I was getting ready to leave and they corralled me into having a few drinks. I figured I could still be home in plenty of time but one drink led to another, and I'd had a tough day—that Rickerd woman is driving me nuts about her divorce—and I needed to unwind. It was stupid. It wasn't fair to you, you're absolutely right, but I did it. It's done. Do we have to fight about it? It's my birthday, for Pete's sake." He tried to smile.

  "Why do I feel like I should be the one apologizing?" Jill asked, pouting beneath her tears. "You still haven't explained why you had such a big lunch," she said.

  "I was hungry," he admitted sheepishly. "God, I was starving!" David lowered his head and sighed. "Jill, could you come here, please, hon." He waited for an instant, then watched her get up off the bed. Jill was vaguely aware of voices coming from the other room, undoubtedly growing more concerned as time passed.

  "Come on over here," he continued.

  "David—"

  "Come on over here."

  Reluctantly, she walked into his outstretched arms. They encircled her immediately.

  "Oh, Jill, I love you so much," he said, softly kissing her hair. "I’m sorry I'm late. Really I am. I wanted to be on time—but I just couldn't seem to break away. Please understand. Don't be angry. I love you."

  "Your daughter didn't eat a thing," she told him. There was no point in staying angry any longer. She would only succeed in making everyone else uncomfortable and ruining what was left of the evening. She'd made her point; he'd made his apology.

  "Elaine probably fed her full of cookies and milk before she got here."

  "Oh—she called."

  "Don't tell me about it."

  Jill smiled. "Your sister and her husband loved the Stroganoff. Apparently, they had some truly superb Stroganoff just the other day at a friend's home."

  "Sounds like a typical evening. Come here, you."

  "I am here."

  "No," he whispered, pointing to his lips. "Here."

  He kissed her softly.

  "Are you going to change your pants?" Jill asked, moving out of his arms and back to the bed.

  "Yeah," he answered. "Jeans okay with you?"

  "Sure," she shrugged, lifting his jacket off the bed, about to take it to the closet. "What's this?" she asked, reaching over and picking something off the bedspread.

  "A birthday card," David answered, removing one pair of pants and putting on another. "Some of the guys from the office."
<
br />   "The ones you went drinking with?"

  "The same," he smiled.

  Jill opened it up. Under the usual Happy Birthday message were written six names. The last one reached her eyes first, staying there and blocking out all the others. Nicki, it curved lyrically in black ink.

  "You didn't tell me Nicole Clark was with you," Jill said, fresh anger building inside her.

  David said nothing for several seconds. "It didn't seem to merit special consideration," he said at last. "I didn't tell you the names of anybody else who was there either."

  "You said some of the guys."

  David raised his hands in the air as if to say he surrendered. "Well there, you see, I consider her one of the guys. Come on, Jill, let's not blow this thing out of proportion. It's not like I was alone with the girl." Jill shook her head with dismay. "You don't still believe that garbage about her wanting to marry me, I hope." It was a statement, not a question. "Come on, Jill, jealousy doesn't become you."

  "I'm not jealous," Jill shot back. "I'm mad! Can't I be mad?"

  "You were over being mad until I mentioned Nicki!"

  "You didn't mention her! That's why I'm mad!"

  David looked at her. Jill recognized the look—it was his patient parent stare. "Isn't this kind of ridiculous?" he asked. "Come on, I'm home now. Isn't that what you wanted?" He smiled shyly. "I'm not getting any younger, you know."

  Once again, Jill allowed herself to be coaxed into his arms.

  The rest of the evening was as big a disaster as the first part had been. For starters, Jill's cake hadn't set properly in the middle and everyone seemed compelled to comment on it. Then David's sister, Renee, got into a heated debate with their mother and she and her husband left before the presents were opened. The presents had been uniformly awful— ("What on earth possessed you, Jill?" he'd asked, stuffing the silk shirt unceremoniously back inside its box)—and Elaine had called to see if Jason and Laurie could spend the night and the better part of the weekend with their father.

  At ten o'clock, Jill's parents had left for home, and at ten-thirty, David left to drive his mother back to her apartment. Jason retreated immediately to the television and the telephone, which he used simultaneously. Laurie helped Jill straighten out the living room and stack the dishes in the dishwasher.