They were so enchanted by the music, by the unexpected, last-moment pleasure of being able to see the musical, that they remained in their seats between acts, content to talk.
“What do you hear from Marge?” Rhoda asked after she’d reported on her own activities and Frank’s since they’d last talked.
“I think she’d like to come back to New York—after all, Seventh Avenue is where most of the designing goes on—but she says she’s learning a lot. Still dying to open up her own shop, though she’d feel better doing that with an active partner. If I wasn’t otherwise engaged, I’d love to join her.”
Rhoda knew how bored she was much of the time. Not the mothering hours each day, she thought guiltily. She loved being with Jesse, but Alice freed her from the nonsense, boring hours. There was never a moment in Hamburg when she had been bored, because she’d been doing something she believed in, something that was useful.
After the performance they fought their way through the euphoric audience to the ladies’ room. Kathy tried to reach Phil again. There was no answer on his private line, and the switchboard was shut for the night. She’d have to take the train.
“You couldn’t get Phil?” Rhoda asked sympathetically when she emerged from the phone booth.
“He must have left for the day. Let me drop you off by cab—if we can find one—then I’ll go on over to the apartment, call Mom and talk comfortably for a while. I’ll miss the rush-hour madness on the train that way.”
“Would you like to come over for an early dinner?” Rhoda asked. “Nothing fancy, just—”
“That would get me home too late. Thanks anyway. Now let’s try for a taxi.” She’d call out to Southampton and explain to Jesse—guilty that she might not be home in time to read to him tonight.
They left the theater and walked over to Eighth Avenue because the line-up for taxis was horrendous. At Eighth they finally signaled an empty taxi and began the slow crawl uptown.
“Frank’s getting nervous about this Korean situation,” Rhoda said somberly. “He’s scared to death we’ll be drawn into another war. Everybody’s so afraid of Communism. Look what’s happening with that awful book, Red Channels. Innocent people are going to have their lives ruined.”
“I remember back in high-school days, when Marge and I used to hang out on Saturday nights on Thirteenth Avenue and listen to the young Communists climb up on their soapboxes and talk about how nobody should go hungry or homeless. We knew nothing about Stalin and what was going on inside Russia—”
“Back in the thirties Frank’s father and mother worked hard for the Spanish Loyalists. His father went over with the Abraham Lincoln Brigade. Afterward, Frank said, his father was disillusioned about the whole deal in Spain.”
“Sometimes I feel as though I’m living in outer space somewhere. In Greenwich or Southampton—it doesn’t matter where we are—all I hear is talk about the fur trade. I don’t understand how Phil could have fought in World War II and not give a thought to what’s happening in the world now. His father’s the same way.”
“They’re one breed and you’re another, baby,” Rhoda said. “But don’t knock it—you’re living well.”
The taxi pulled up at the curb before the West Seventies brownstone where Rhoda and Frank lived.
“I’ll talk to you soon.” Kathy exchanged a hasty kiss with Rhoda, and Rhoda sprinted across the sidewalk. The rain was coming down heavily again.
The driver cut through Central Park—a glorious, shimmering green in the summer rain—and emerged on Fifth Avenue. Within minutes Kathy was at her destination. She fumbled impatiently for her keys to the entrance of the building. Usually so demanding of services, Julius had bought an apartment in a building without doormen or elevator operators.
She crossed the carpeted lobby to the immaculately maintained elevators. In moments she was gliding in admirable smoothness to the twelfth floor. In her mind she tabulated the inventory of clothes she kept in the apartment. She’d change into a pair of dry shoes, she decided in relief. She’d sat through the performance with rain-sodden shoes removed and now was intensely aware of discomfort.
Call Southampton first and talk to Jesse, she instructed herself. Then call Mom. Maybe she’d make herself a cup of Earl Grey to sip while they talked.
She left the elevator and hurried down the hall to the apartment in an oddly relaxed mood, she realized. Continuous rain had a lulling effect. And the play had been a delight. Now she anticipated a long talk with Mom, then she’d talk with Aunt Sophie and Dad.
She unlocked the door and walked into the foyer, conscious of a pleasant silence. She started down the carpeted hallway that led to the pair of bedrooms, then froze in shock. Her eyes focused on a trail of fragile material that littered the hallway. Sheer nylons in a discarded heap. A few feet beyond—gossamer black panties. Near the door to the first bedroom a matching bra and a black, lace-trimmed garter belt.
Before she followed the trail that led into the bedroom she shared with Phil, she knew what she would find. The nude bodies of Phil and Roz lay in a tangle on the oversized bed. Both Phil and Roz asleep. Phil always fell asleep after they made love, she remembered subconsciously.
For an agonized instant she closed her eyes against the tableau before her. Dizzy with shock, she felt her whole world crumble around her. Then in a blend of anguish and rage she spun around and walked down the hall, across the foyer and out of the apartment.
In a daze she went to Penn Station, arriving just in time to board a train for Southampton, forgetting to phone ahead to talk to Jesse or to call her family in Borough Park. Wanting to blot out the memory of Phil and Roz, lying in satiated slumber on the bed she’d shared with Phil, yet perversely clinging to that image.
How many times she had scolded herself for being suspicious of Phil! And it had all been true. Not just Roz. That blond hair she’d found on Phil’s shoulder had belonged to one of his bedmates. How many others had shared his hotel beds during those trips around the country? Phil was a carbon copy of his father.
The trip to Southampton seemed endless tonight. Her mind was in chaos. Why had she married Phil? She hadn’t been in love with him—she had been obsessed by him. Again she remembered Rhoda’s words when Derek had walked out on her: “Why do so many women fall in love with the wrong men? Maybe it isn’t love. Maybe it’s just old-fashioned lust.”
She’d pack a bag for herself and Jesse and take the train back to New York. For tonight they’d stay at a hotel. In the morning they’d go out to Borough Park. Mom and Dad would be upset, but they’d understand.
The rain had at last subsided by the time she left the train. She hurried across the parking area to the waiting Cadillac, and slid behind the wheel with painful urgency. She would take Jesse and leave Phil and his world behind her.
Driving up the long entranceway to the house, she saw the lower floor was dark except for the foyer, and remembered that Gail and Brenda and their husbands were at some affair tonight. Bella had elected to remain home because Julius had flown out to Cleveland on business. Whose bed was Julius in tonight, Kathy asked herself bitterly. It didn’t matter how old they were if they were rich enough.
She let herself into the quiet house and headed up the stairs. The nursery was dark. Jesse must be asleep, like Phil’s small nieces. How awful to wake him, she thought; but they must be out of the house before Phil returned. The prospect of facing him after what she’d seen this afternoon was intolerable.
At the upstairs landing she heard the muffled sound of television filtering from Bella’s room. She’d have to tell Bella she was leaving Phil.
“Kathy?” With one hand on the knob of the nursery door she turned to face Bella.
“Yes—” Her heart was pounding now.
“Phil called a little after seven to say he’ll stay at the apartment tonight. He’s tied up with an out-of-town buyer and—”
“Oh, he was tied up all right,” Kathy broke in with a fresh surge of rage and humiliation. “
I walked into the apartment and found him. He was asleep, in bed with Roz Masters. They didn’t even know I was there.”
Bella flinched, then closed her eyes for a moment.
“He’s his father’s son.”
“How do you stay married to a man like that?” Kathy demanded.
“I didn’t know until after Gail and Brenda were born. I didn’t want to know. But I couldn’t walk out on the security he offered the girls. And then later there was Phil. What could I give them?”
“Integrity. Love. Self-respect.” Kathy’s eyes smoldered with contempt for her husband.
“Integrity, love, and self-respect don’t pay the rent. They don’t buy food and clothes. They don’t pay doctor bills.”
“I’m leaving Phil. I never want to see him again.”
“Kathy, don’t do this,” Bella pleaded. “I know how you’re hurting, but there’s too much at stake to throw away your marriage. Oh yes, I hurt. God, did I hurt! But I know that I and my children and my grandchildren will have everything we need in life.”
“I’m divorcing Phil. I could never live with him again after what I saw this afternoon.” Tears stung her eyes as she remembered all the times she’d upbraided herself for being suspicious of him.
“Phil will fight you every step of the way,” Bella warned. “He’ll drag you into the dirt. You’ll claim you found them in bed together, but who will corroborate that? Did anybody see them come into the building, go to the apartment? Did anybody see you?” she challenged and smiled bitterly as Kathy remained silent. “Why do you think Julius bought an apartment in a building without doormen or elevator men? Because it’s discreet.”
“I was there,” Kathy said stubbornly. “I saw them.”
“That’s not good enough. And Phil will find people who’ll vouch for being with him every moment of this day and evening. He’ll claim you married him for the Kohn money, that you’re just after heavy alimony payments.”
“I don’t want Phil’s money—or his father’s,” Kathy shot back. “I’ll work and support Jesse. I don’t need Phil!”
“You need him,” Bella insisted. “You have no real job experience—how much could you earn? Who’ll take care of Jesse while you’re working?”
“I’ll find a way—” But fear was clutching her throat.
“You can’t expect your Aunt Sophie to raise him for you,” Bella pointed out. “Not at her age. And you know what nursemaids cost. Be practical, Kathy. As I was. Make a life for yourself, as I have, and let Jesse have all the advantages that money can provide.”
“It’s wrong,” Kathy defied. But doubts began to erode her determination. How would she raise Jesse alone? “It’s not fair.”
“Much is not fair in this world. We do what we must to survive.” But Kathy saw the compassion in her mother-in-law’s eyes. “You’ll be brighter with Jesse than I was with my three. I built myself this protective shell and hid behind it. My children were raised by nursemaids and boarding schools and summer camps because I was afraid to love and be hurt again.” She smiled at Kathy’s startled expression. “Oh, I was madly in love with Julius in the first two years of our marriage. Did you think I married him because he was the son of the rich Peter Kohn?”
“No,” Kathy stammered. She had suspected that. At intervals Julius dropped snide remarks about his wife’s years as the only child of poor Russian immigrants.
“You don’t know Julius as he was in those early days. Oh, he was a charmer! I thought I was so lucky when he chose me. Probably,” she said with bitter humor, “because I was the only girl who’d ever said no to him.”
“Bella, I don’t know—” It was the first time she had ever called her mother-in-law by name. “I feel used. Degraded—”
“I know.” Bella’s eyes and her voice reflected remembered pain. “Let’s go downstairs and make a pot of tea. We’ll talk some more. Phil doesn’t have to know you were in that apartment. It’s better he shouldn’t know. And you’ll learn to build a life for yourself. I’ve watched you. You’re stronger than I was. You won’t make my mistakes.”
Kathy and Bella sat in the kitchen, talking as women have talked through the centuries about philandering husbands. Thank God that Phil was staying in the city tonight, Kathy thought in shaky relief. She wouldn’t have to face him until tomorrow night.
In her night-darkened bedroom Kathy lay sleepless under the light coverlet required by Southampton nights. The sound of the waves lapping at the shore normally lulled her to sleep, but tonight the sound had lost its magic. Her mind was too active and tormented.
Was Phil still there in the apartment with Roz? Were they making love right this minute? For a little while she’d convinced herself that she and Phil would make something fine of their marriage, despite its shaky status. They’d both work at it, she’d thought.
Was she doing the right thing to stay with Phil? How could she let him make love to her, knowing what she knew? She felt sick at the prospect. Yet she realized that Bella was right. Phil wouldn’t agree to a divorce. His pride wouldn’t allow that. Divorces could be expensive and messy—and she had no money.
Without alimony and child support she’d live in constant uncertainty. If she worked, she’d have to leave Jesse in a nursery for long hours every day. She wouldn’t be able to afford to hire a woman to come in to take care of him.
Where would she live? Everybody knew how rents in the city kept escalating. What would she be able to afford? She couldn’t move back in with her family. Her bedroom had been an oversized closet. She remembered how cramped it was those occasional times she’d slept over with Jesse. She had to manipulate to get past the crib to her bed. Jesse needed space.
Of course, other women without husbands managed to raise children. But did she want to subject Jesse to denial when it could be avoided? The important thing at stake was Jesse. She must do what would be good for him.
At last she fell into troubled sleep, to awake at sunrise, instantly conscious of the emotional turmoil of the past dozen hours. She got out of bed with a searing need to leave the house behind her, showered quickly, dressed in slacks and a warm sweater because the beach would be chilly at this hour. She hurried from her bedroom, down the stairs of the silent house, and out into the sea-scented morning air.
Fog hung over the beach. A host of gulls cawed a jubilant welcome to the new day as she trudged over the damp white sand, as yet untouched by footprints except for those of an adventurous dog. She was grimly aware that she must gear herself to face Phil.
The time would come, she vowed, when she would free herself of this mock-marriage. But until Jesse was safely launched in life she must play the game. Nothing must be spoiled for her precious child.
By the time she returned to the house, the sun was breaking through the fog. Yesterday’s rain was a memory. Somehow, the sunlight was an affront to her.
Each hour of the day dragged. Normally, Kathy loved these days when daylight reigned until close to nine in the evening. Now she longed for night to put an end to the exuberance of day.
Late in the afternoon—when the other women were lounging on the ocean-facing deck and dissecting an earlier cocktail party—Kathy went out to the kitchen. Perched on his knees on a chair, Jesse was deep in contemplation as he considered the puzzle on the table before him. How sweet and warm and beautiful he was! Dad was so pleased, she remembered, that Jesse was enraptured by the puzzles that had been part of the third-birthday gifts.
“I’ll give Jesse his dinner and get him ready for bed, Alice. It’s a marvelous evening. Why don’t you go for a walk on the beach?”
“That would be nice.” Alice smiled in appreciation. “My hips need that walking. Everything I eat seems to be settling there.”
Jesse was finishing up his dinner when Kathy heard a car drive up to the house. That would be Phil and his father, she guessed, and was instantly tense. Moments later she heard their voices as they talked with the women on the deck. Through a kitchen window she saw Phil
stroll into the house.
“Mommie, I want to do the puzzle again,” Jesse said with a determination to delay going upstairs to the nursery and soon to bed. “I can do it all by myself,” he reminded triumphantly.
“Hey, what’s my boy been up to today?” Phil swept into the kitchen, gave Kathy a perfunctory kiss and settled at the kitchen table. “Behaving yourself?”
“I made a sand castle with Alice. A big one,” Jesse reported.
“Wow, I wish I could have seen it!” This was the period each day that Phil played the affectionate father, Kathy thought.
“You didn’t come home last night,” Jesse said accusingly. “You promised to read me a story.” Jesse’s choice delaying tactic at bedtime.
“I’ll read you one tonight,” Phil cajoled. “We don’t have anything lined up later, do we?” he asked Kathy.
“No, you turned down the Jacksons’ dinner. I phoned and said you’d be out of town.” How can I talk this way with Phil after last night?
“They’re nobodies,” Phil shrugged. “We’d be bored to death.”
“I want a ride on your shoulders,” Jesse said imperiously. “And two stories tonight because you didn’t read me one last night.”
She could see this through, Kathy told herself grimly while Phil swooped Jesse from his chair. She would not deprive Jesse of the life the Kohn money could give him. She wouldn’t deprive him of those moments each day when Phil played the affectionate father. Being part of a family was important to a child.
She would pretend last night had never happened. But it was etched forever on her brain.
Chapter 15
AS USUAL, SHORTLY AFTER Labor Day the Kohn entourage left Southampton and returned to Greenwich. On the surface, Kathy thought, nothing had changed in her relationship with Phil. He was too egotistical, too smug, to suspect that she knew about his affair with Roz. He seemed not to notice a change in her response to his lovemaking, though that had lost its magic long before the night she found him in bed with Roz.
To Phil she was a convenient outlet for those nights when he was aroused and Roz—or whomever else he was seeing—was not available. She had to force herself not to flinch each time he reached for her, feeling herself no more than a high-priced call girl. But for Jesse she could go through with this travesty.
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