"So, you just moved everybody around like little chess pieces," I said.
"You know, I never learned to play chess," Dad replied. "I've always been a checkers man."
"More like a puppet master," I muttered.
Dad shuddered. "I can't stand puppets. There's something inhuman about."
"Well, for starters, they’re puppets, not humans."
Dad just shook his head. "I don't like them and I don't trust them."
"You said you needed me here in my lawyer capacity," I said, following him down the street.
"I may have exaggerated," Dad admitted.
"You think?"
"But rest assured, you were every bit the lawyer I thought you would be," Dad said, patting me on the shoulder.
"Why was I even here?"
"Why not?"
I wanted to pull my hair out. "That's not an answer!"
"Of course it is."
"Argh!" I exclaimed.
Dad, of course, was unfazed by my tiny freakout and handed me the fresh strawberries. "By the way, these are for you."
Taking the bag, I said, "And you can't do what you did back there to the Drapers?"
"I didn't do anything back there other than introduce two people who were meant to be together," Dad replied.
I glared at him. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"
"Everything I do, I do on purpose," Dad said.
I shook the bag of strawberries at him. "I'd throw these at you, but they look too good to waste."
Dad smiled. "I know."
I rolled my eyes. "So, now we get the Drapers back together?"
"Actually," Dad replied, kissing me on the cheek. "You get the Drapers back together. I still have a singer to help."
And then he was gone before I could argue the point any further.
Back at my apartment I tried not to feel too much resentment towards my Dad and started thumbing through the matchmaking packet. Dad said I had a gift for love, but the Draper's had already been in love. Dad did that part thirty years ago. This was something completely different.
My cell rang twice in the thirty minutes I spent going over the packet. I let it go to voicemail both times. The first call was from the office. I had to listen to the voicemail to find out who it was: Kevin. He wanted to make sure that I was okay and to call him back as soon I could.
I already had the second caller programed into my phone: Burt the cop. I almost answered when he called, but my insecurities got the best of me and I let it go to voicemail. This time he didn't leave a message. Which, of course, led to more insecurities. Why didn't he leave a message? He left a message yesterday? Of course, I never called him back yesterday...
No, I didn't have time for Burt the cop right now. I pushed him to the back burner and focused on the broken marriage in front of me.
There was something about my conversation with Mr. Draper this morning that was bugging me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
I flipped through the packet again. Where were those schedules Dad had included? Before I did anything I decided that I was going to have to have a conversation with Mrs. Draper.
Chapter Fourteen
According to her schedule, Mrs. Draper was a voracious reader. She apparently blocked out at least two hours every day to do nothing but read. In of itself, that bit of knowledge wasn't very helpful. However, one of her favorite authors was holding a book signing on the Upper West End. That was helpful.
Changing into jeans and a hoodie shirt, I got to the bookstore, The Bookophile, a solid hour before the event started. Making sure that I didn't miss her, I parked myself on a bench just outside the store and watched as they set up a small table for the author inside. When the salespeople started stacking the signing author's books, my jaw almost dropped.
The book cover had a man, half-naked because some woman was ripping off his shirt, showing off a hard six-pack. Their hair was all windblown and their eyes were filled with lusty desire.
I glanced at the time. It was twenty minutes before the signing started. There was a small line already forming outside the store, but Mrs. Draper wasn't among them.
I held out for a few more minutes but then curiosity got the better of me and I snuck into the store, grabbing my own copy of the bodice ripper. Outside on the bench I flipped through the book, glancing up every so often for Mrs. Draper.
Wow.
Wow.
Wow.
Bodice rippers were tame compared to this. I caught myself before I started fanning my face with my hand. Was it even legal to publish stuff like this? The pages were practically sizzling beneath my fingertips.
This was what Mrs. Draper read?
I stumbled across a particularly spicy scene and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Was it hot out here or was it just me?
I tore my gaze from the book to check for Mrs. Draper again and I caught some of the older women in line giving me knowing smiles.
Ooookay, I just realized how weird and embarrassing this was, at least for me. I slipped the book into my purse and composed myself.
Yeah, definitely an at home read.
About an hour into the signing, I spotted Mrs. Draper. I had almost missed her. She was trying her best to be as inconspicuous as possible. After scanning a few pages from the book, I didn't blame her. I wouldn't want to have to explain to my friends what I found so fascinating about this book that I just had to come down and meet the author in person.
I kept my head low and let Mrs. Draper have her moment with her favorite author. When she stepped out of the store, that's when I greeted her.
"Mrs. Draper?" I said.
She was startled at first. And, really, could I blame her? I'd bet that her divorce lawyer was the last person that she thought she'd run into at this place.
"Ms. Valentine." Mrs. Draper fumbled with her words for a moment. I could see the embarrassment in her eyes, so I did the only thing that made sense.
I pulled my copy of the book from my purse and gave her a conspiratorial smile. "It's okay. I think we both have the same tastes."
I wasn't really sure what Mrs. Draper's tastes were and after what little of the book I read, I wasn't really sure that I wanted to know. But, I was pretty sure that I could play along for a little bit.
Upon seeing the book, she immediately relaxed and we started walking towards the parking garage.
I just jumped into it. Partly because I really didn't know how to broach the subject any other way and partly because I really didn't want to discuss the book.
"This is going to sound so strange," I said, with a forced chuckle. I hoped it didn't sound too forced, like maybe I was holding myself hostage and forcing me to behave normally. How do I think of these things? "But I actually ran into your husband this morning."
She stiffened at the mention of Mr. Draper. That wasn't good.
"How fortunate for you." Her voice became cold and hollow.
This was going to be so much harder than my Dad thought it was going to be. From now on, I'm going with my first instinct and I'm staying out of other people's marriages. You know, unless, of course, they come to me because they want out of their marriage.
I tried to choose my next words as carefully as possible. "We had a rather interesting talk."
Mrs. Draper sighed loudly and came to an abrupt stop. "It's quickly becoming clear to me, Ms. Valentine, that you have a purpose for being here right now. And rather than getting into the legal ramifications of you, as my legal consul, having a meeting with my soon-to-be ex-husband behind my back, why don't we just get to what it is you want to talk about?"
I was stunned for a moment. Maybe I wasn't as good at this as Dad thought. Also, there was a very real possibility that I could get disbarred if this situation got any worse. Mrs. Draper was definitely that kind of woman.
Clearing my throat, I said, "I didn't mean to be rude or put you on the spot-"
"And yet, you ambushed me here," she interrupted.
"I apologize. I wasn't trying to ambush you," I said quickly. "I just wanted to talk."
"Really? And what was so important that you simply couldn't call me or make an appointment?"
I opened my mouth and then closed it. Actually, she made a good point. Now that I thought about it, that would have made a lot more sense than stalking her at her favorite author's signing. I am definitely not very good at this.
I held up a hand. "You know what? You're absolutely right," I said, taking a step back. "This was totally inappropriate. I will call you through the appropriate channels."
She sighed heavily again and somehow it managed to irritate me and also make me feel like the biggest loser all at once. "You already have my attention and time, Ms. Valentine, you might as well get it over with."
A ninety-five compatibility rating? Between these two? Nope. I just wasn't seeing it.
I took a deep breath again. "Mrs. Draper, I just wanted to know what happened."
"What happened?" she echoed. "With what, exactly?"
"Your marriage." I paused. "When I spoke with your husband this morning, he seemed... sad."
"Of course he's sad," she replied. "You managed to secure a very healthy alimony for me. I'd be sad, too, if I was him."
"But I don't think that's what's bothering him," I said. "I know what we put down on the divorce papers and I know that it wasn't something you were interested in discussing before, but now, I'd really like to know. What happened, Mrs. Draper?"
She didn't answer right away. I was almost pretty sure she was just going to ignore me and stomp off. And if she did that, well, I had no idea what I was going to do.
Instead, Mrs. Draper did the last thing I expected and actually spoke to me, like a human being.
"Thirty years ago, George and I fell madly in love," she said. "We married very quickly. Too quickly, some would say, but at the time it didn't feel fast enough." With each word she seemed to soften a little more. "Our first few years of marriage were," she paused, a distant look in her eyes as she cast her mind back. "They were magical. We were very, very happy."
Mrs. Draper stopped.
I waited it out. There was more to come, I could see it in her body language.
"And then, over time, we simply drifted apart," she continued. "First he spent more time at work. Then he spent more time with his friends. We saw each other in passing. The passion of our earlier years had faded away and we had fallen into a rut." She shrugged. "There were no arguments. We hardly ever raised our voices at each other. I spent time with my friends and he spent time with his. We just weren't there for each other anymore. And so one day I decided that I had had enough."
I noticed that Mrs. Draper was gripping her book very tightly. I searched her eyes, but they were dry.
"I've thought that maybe children would have made a difference," she said. "But then I realize that it would have simply made an untenable situation even worse.
"What I eventually realized was that love, the passion that we shared in those early years, would never have been enough to sustain us. Love is simply a sweetener that eventually goes sour and when it's gone, all you're left with is the harsh reality. The harsh reality that the man who you married is not the same man anymore and you're not the same person either. People change and nothing lasts forever.
"And that," she finished with a firm voice, "is what happened with our marriage, Ms. Valentine."
Then I asked the next question that popped into my mind, without really thinking about it, "Did he have an affair?"
Immediately I regretted asking it. The awkward silence that followed didn't help. She looked at me with an expression that I couldn't quite identify at first and then it click: fearful confusion. I felt like a complete idiot.
"I'm sorry," I started. "That was completely inappropriate."
"No," she said, looking away. "It's something you should have asked when I first came to you."
I shrugged. "If my clients don't want to offer up the information, I don't want to push the issue."
"And yet, here you are, pushing the issue, Ms. Valentine," she said. "After the issue has been laid to rest."
"I know, I'm sorry," I said again. Yeah, I was a total heel.
Mrs. Draper took a moment to compose herself. She squared her shoulders and looked me in the eye. "And now it's my turn, Ms. Valentine: Why the sudden interest in my former marriage?"
I didn't even bother to lie. What good would a lie do anyway? Besides, the Draper's were both reasonable adults, maybe all I needed to do was be upfront with them. Well, as upfront as I could be while still leaving off the part where my Dad was Cupid.
"To be honest, Mrs. Draper," I said. "I think the divorce might have been a mistake."
Chapter Fifteen
Fiona sat across from me at my tiny table in my tiny apartment. "She laughed?"
"She laughed at me," I corrected her, helping myself to my glass of iced tea.
"She laughed at you?" Fiona sounded skeptical. She was dressed in a denim skirt and one of those flowy tops that always managed to make me look pregnant.
"Why is this concept so confusing to you?" I asked. The matchmaking packet had been rescued from the trashcan and was now spread out over the table. After my not-quite disastrous talk with Mrs. Draper I headed back to my apartment and called in back-up.
Fiona twirled her hair around her finger. "It doesn't make any sense. Why would she laugh at you?"
I glanced through the Draper's profiles. "Probably so she wouldn't have to worry about me pressing charges."
"Pressing charges?"
"Yeah," I said. "Because the other reaction she could have had was to slap me. So, all in all, I think I prefer the laughing."
"I don't know..." Fiona leaned back in her chair, biting her thumbnail. "Still, laughter?"
"Yeah, I wasn't really expecting it, either," I said.
"Is this how these matchmaking things usually go? It seems a little too conflict driven."
"Usually the couple wants to be together," I said. "The whole process tends to be easier that way."
"But the Drapers don't realize they want to be together?"
"Something like that. Didn't I tell you this already?"
She nodded. "Yes, but this is all very fascinating."
"It's not as fascinating if you grew up with it," I replied.
"I don't know, being Cupid's daughter has to beat being the daughter of a used car salesman," Fiona said.
"You'd think that," I replied. "But you'd be wrong."
"Was Valentine's Day a big deal growing up?"
"Kinda."
"Bigger than Christmas?"
I rolled my eyes.
"What?" Fiona asked. "This is all very interesting."
I held up the packet. "I brought you here to help me with this, not regale you with tales from my childhood."
"When do I get to hear the tales from your childhood?"
"Maybe after I've had a glass of wine."
Fiona gave a disappointed sigh. "Fine. So what are you going to do? Make some kind of big gesture? Perhaps something with roses, horse drawn carriages and a live band in Central Park?"
"No," I answered.
"No?"
"No."
"Okay," Fiona said. "So, I'm confused."
"The Drapers don't need some kind of big gesture," I explained. "They already know that they love each other."
Fiona looked at me dubiously. "Are you sure about that?"
"What they need," I continued, ignoring her, "is to be reminded of it."
"And how do roses, horse drawn carriages and a live band in Central Park not accomplish that?"
I put the profiles down and looked at Fiona. "You keep mentioning horse drawn carriages. Emphasis on the plural. How many carriages do you think they need?"
Fiona grabbed a strawberry from the bowl in the center of the table, popping it into her mouth. "Well, I'm thinking one carriage for each of them."
"So, your plan involves kee
ping them apart to remind them of their love for each other?"
"Hey, maybe you want to let me finish?" Fiona suggested. "You just can't interrupt and expect it to make sense."
"My apologies," I said with a tiny bow. "Please, go ahead."
"Thank you. Now, as I was saying," Fiona continued. "I'm thinking the Drapers are in separate carriages, taking them through Central Park, as the sun is setting. Music is playing. Something romantic. Don't ask me where the music is coming from, I can't be bothered with little details like that. Anyway, music is playing and the Drapers are being led through the park until they meet. Maybe at the little footbridge? That seems romantic. The sun is setting, casting it's golden rays across our couple. The bridge is littered with a thousand roses. And then, a new song starts playing and it's their song. Their eyes connect and bam, their love is rekindled. They get into the third carriage, symbolic of their revitalized union, and ride off into the sunset."
Fiona snatched up another strawberry and bit into it with a grin. "How's that?"
"That's very romantic," I said. "Assuming we're living in some kind of eighties John Cusack film."
"So, you don't like it?"
I just shook my head.
"Fine then," Fiona said. "We'll talk about me, since you don't appreciate my brilliance." Wiping her fingers, she asked, "Do you think I could draw comics?"
"What? Like, Sunday comics?"
She shook her head. "No, I mean comic books."
"Archie?"
"Among others."
"Betty and Veronica?"
She sighed. "It's an entire industry. Where do you think all these superhero movies keep coming from?"
I shrugged. "I didn't really give it any thought."
"Anyway, it's more than just Archie."
I scratched my ear, looking over the Draper's schedules. "Wouldn't it be considered selling out? And aren't you supposed to be against that, what with being a real artist and all that."
Fiona tapped her finger against her cheek. "See, that's the rub. Is it really selling out?"
Cupid's Daughter Page 8