The Scarlet Letter Scandal
Page 14
“It’s definitely better for you to have taken the time off,” said Greg. “Instead of rushing to get back right away and ending up more stressed.”
“Gotta be honest,” said Jake, ever the more jovial and casual partner, “I thought rushing back in is exactly what you were going to do. I know work is something we all use as a comfort zone. But I was glad you made a better choice.” He smiled tentatively at Eva as he ran a hand through his disheveled brown hair and adjusted his bold Gucci black eyeglasses.
“I really can’t thank both of you enough,” said Eva. “I couldn’t have asked for better business partners in this life. You’ve been spectacular. I’m very lucky.”
“Not at all,” said Greg. “We’re just happy you’re back.”
“Are you jumping back in full time this week?” asked Jake. “The Kline-Franc Inc. mess hasn’t gone anywhere since you’ve been gone. What a bunch of complete assholes they continue to be. So if you’re…”
He looked at Eva. She stared at him with an almost vacant look that had frozen his question.
Eva couldn’t believe the words that began spilling out of her mouth.
“I don’t know if I am,” she said. “I want to come back to work. But I do not want to come back to New York every week. I’ve been thinking maybe I should spend more time in the DC office, or start working more from home.”
Greg blinked in Jake’s direction. The brief glance said this is a woman who barely took six weeks off when she gave birth to twins.
Greg began, “Eva, of course as full partner you have the option to do whatever you want.”
“Hell yeah, Ev, I mean you know as well as we do that you could retire any old damn time if you wanted to!” Jake said, trying to lighten the mood. He sat back in his chair and looked at her. “But you know you would be missed here.”
“I can’t retire,” said Eva, allowing herself to look into Jake’s eyes for a moment. She would miss him, and would always keep the memory alive of the secret tryst they once shared, ages ago. “I would miss this place. I would die of boredom. I’ve never not worked in my entire life. And with the boys going to college, I wouldn’t even consider it for at least another five years.”
“So what is it you think you might want?” Greg asked, clearing his throat. “You just tell us and we will make it happen.”
“I want to spend more time with my boys before they vanish into adulthood,” said Eva. “I want my old level of energy back, my drive. My mother’s death and my divorce have made me reevaluate my life and think about what is important and even though we know I have spent a lifetime dedicated to work and making money and seventy-hour weeks, that doesn’t seem as crucial to me at this particular moment. I guess I need a little breathing room. I’m also doing some pro bono work for the watermen who are treated like shit by the state. I need some more time on the island.”
She sat back, exhaling and feeling a sense of relief at having expressed some of her thoughts, as disjointed and incomplete as they were lately. She hated weakness. Her father had belittled her all her life right up until the old drunk died about his twisted version of feminist equality. If you want to be treated like an equal you damn better act like one, he’d said. He never thought she’d finish the bar and become a lawyer. Everything she’d done had been in spite of him, and because of him. He died never once telling her he was proud.
“You don’t need to justify any of your choices with us,” said Greg. “We support you. We are your partners, not your bosses. Work in DC. Work from the island. Never work again. Do what you need to do. Do what you want.”
“Can you even get a phone signal to work from that island?” said Jake, smiling.
Eva appreciated the lightening of the mood after her awkward little speech.
“Only if the wind is blowing the right way,” she said. “The Wi-Fi works when the power isn’t out. And they’re supposedly building a cell tower.”
“That place sounds like a real throwback,” said Greg. “Guessing there aren’t too many Starbucks or Nordstrom stores there?”
Eva laughed; it felt good. “There’s exactly one place where you can sit down and order coffee and have it brought to your table, and I’m thankful for that one,” she said. “Thank God the food is great at Paul’s Café, too. Zero clothing for sale on island unless you count the bait-and-tackle shop. There’s a great little bookstore, and a twenty-four-hour book exchange at the post office. There is one produce stand, with a little box you leave the money in. No grocery stores, so you can choose between the country store, which has wine tastings on Friday nights, and the hottest action in town, the Sunday morning newspaper line at that bait-and-tackle shop.”
“But you can’t get the New York Times,” said Jake, amused at the description of the surreal island. He noticed how she lit up when she talked about the place.
“Believe it or not,” said Eva, “if you’re an early riser, you can get one of twelve copies of the NYT delivered to the island at either Paul’s Café OR the bait-and-tackle, depending on how much time you have to listen to the watermen tell actual fish stories at the latter.”
“Sounds like heaven,” said Jake, with a touch of sarcasm. “Who needs a Dean and Deluca when there’s a bait-and-tackle shop?”
“You have to appreciate a place you can only get to by drawbridge,” said Eva. “When you cross the bridge, it’s like crossing back in time.”
She looked at Jake.
“Nothing wrong with that,” he said, looking into Eva’s eyes with a smile in his own. He glanced at his watch, quickly gathering items from the table because he was obviously late as usual for another meeting. “You just let us know what you need. We’re here.”
“Thanks, Jake,” said Eva, and she watched him walk out of the room.
“He’s right,” said Greg, standing. Eva internally sighed, glad the meeting was coming to an end. “You will be missed.” His glance toward the door made Eva wonder if Greg knew more than she thought about secrets in her past.
“I will obviously be in touch,” said Eva.
“Your office will still be here,” said Greg. “We’re not going to give that corner spot away to some junior partner just yet.”
Eva smiled at him, standing and picking up her things to leave the office. She exited the building and headed toward the train station and an uncertain future.
Lisa sat at the counter of her shop, Blackbirds Pie, with her laptop open. The scent of fresh croissants baking in the oven filled the air as she took a deep breath and paused over the link to open her email, steeling herself for another round of condolences. It had been nearly two months since her husband died, but she only checked her email once a week or so, and messages still trickled in, each one a fresh reminder of the tragedy. Of course, people meant to be kind, but it was difficult for a wound to heal when she had to relive it over and over with a distant cousin or former classmate.
She dropped her hand away from the laptop when she heard the tiny “mew” of the kitten. She smiled and stood up from her stool, opening the door to the back office. She scooped up Brûlée, the tiny amber-colored kitten she’d received in a basket from Maggie and Eva on the day she moved into the apartment over Maggie’s shop. Movers had come and packed away her suburban belongings to a storage unit. Since the apartment was furnished, she’d brought only her clothes and a few significant items; she’d been surprised there wasn’t much she needed with her.
“Happy Homecoming!” Maggie had said that day last month as she and Eva arrived. Eva carried a basket full of bottles of wine and boxes of chocolate, and bath products for the claw-foot tub. Maggie carried a litter pan filled with cat food, a bag of litter, a food dish, and a tiny basket inside that held the world’s cutest kitten.
“Please tell us you’re not allergic,” said Eva. “I told Maggie we should call you first before bringing the poor little thing…”
Lisa beamed from ear to ear, taking the tiny kitten into her arms. “Brûlée!” she’d exclaimed. “Is
it a girl or a boy?”
“It’s a girl!” replied Maggie. “Congratulations!”
“Of course we will call her Brûlée because she’s just the color of the caramelized sugar on custard—my favorite dessert!”
Maggie and Eva exchanged a quick glance, mentally high-fiving each other for the decision to bring the tiny pet.
“Well, I take it you’re not allergic,” said Maggie. “Congratulations on your lovely new home and your adorable new roommate!”
“Oh, I can’t thank you both enough!” said Lisa. “Maggie, you were so sweet to let me rent this spot over your shop in the first place and now this—she is perfect!”
The caramel-colored kitten looked up at Lisa with its huge green eyes and purred as Lisa nuzzled it against her neck. “She will have to come to work with me every day so she’s not lonely at home!”
Lisa smiled at the memory. She opened the door and scooped the kitten up, happy for a distraction from checking her email. Normally Brûlée slept on the sofa or in the windowsill of Lisa’s office; Lisa didn’t want any customers who might be allergic to even see the cat, so she wasn’t allowed in the front of the store.
But on hearing that tiny “mew,” Lisa made an exception, bringing her to the counter to no doubt wander around her keyboard, arching her back and curling her tail around the top of the computer so Lisa could barely see the screen. She smiled, nudging the kitten aside, and opened her Gmail account.
She was shocked to see an email from her graphic designer friend Ben; they’d been out of touch for what seemed like forever.
from:
Ben bnidale@starfishdesign.com
to:
Lisa lswain@blackbirdspie.com
date:
Monday, November 18, 2013, 8:05 AM
subject:
So sorry
I saw your husband’s obituary in the paper a few weeks ago and have wondered whether to contact you. I’m not sure what to say. I did want you to know that I’m sorry for your loss and that I’ve been thinking of you and what you must be going through. I know there’s no comparison, but when my wife left I remember feeling very alone. You are not. If you need a friend to talk to, I’m here.
Ben
Lisa wiped the tears running down her face. It was kind of Ben to get in touch. He had done such a great job with the graphics for her shop, and when she made the decision to give her marriage all her energy, she had missed the strong attraction they’d shared even though she hadn’t really acted on it other than one kiss. She thought of that kiss often and admitted she’d thought of it even more since her husband had died.
Would it make her a terrible widow to rekindle the flirtatious friendship with Ben? Brûlée meowed, arching her back against Lisa’s black sweater, which would feature tan cat hair for the rest of the day. Lisa picked the kitten up, placing her on her lap (jeans didn’t show cat hair as much), and was surprised to find herself answering right away since she thought she’d decided to wait and think about it.
from:
Lisa lswain@blackbirdspie.com
to:
Ben bnidale@starfishdesign.com
date:
Monday, November 18, 2013, 9:28 AM
subject:
Thank you
It is very kind of you to think of me and I appreciate you reaching out. I’m especially thankful for your understanding and your offer to talk. I’d love to have coffee one day.
Best,
Lisa
She hit send before she could rethink it twenty times and reconsider whether to respond at all, much less what to say.
Brûlée looked up at her with unblinking eyes.
“What?” Lisa asked the cat. “Are you ashamed that your mother is a horrible, slutty widow?” And then she laughed. The truth was that hearing from Ben, next to getting the kitten and being thankful for having such amazing friends, was the best thing that had happened to her in what had been an awful year. Damned if after everything she’d learned from the required reading list of the Scarlet Letter Society book club she was going to feel guilty about having feelings for a man besides her husband when the husband was dead!
She was tired of feeling guilty. Guilt for not missing Jim more. Guilt for choosing a cheaper urn to save money, sending it with all his belongings to his parents’ house. She barely spoke to them at the memorial service his family held; she just couldn’t handle it at the time; still rarely thought about any of it. Guilt was exhausting and she was sick of it. She stood up, walked into the office, and placed the cat back on her sofa bed. She used a rolling lint brush from her desk on her sweater to remove the cat hair, closed the door, and walked over to take the croissants out of the oven, thinking about how long she’d wait before checking to see if Ben had responded.
When Lisa returned to her laptop, she was pleased to see a new message had arrived from Maggie.
from:
Maggie mags@wingsvintage.com
to:
lswain@blackbirdspie.com, embradley@smithcohenbradley.com
date:
Monday, November 18, 2013, 9:45 AM
“She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom.”
-The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne
Meeting of the Scarlet Letter Society
Zoomdweebies Café
Friday, December 6, 2013
5:30 a.m.
Well, girls, I haven’t sent one of these out in a while! But since SLS has officially been in the newspaper I thought we’d get together old school for a coffee at Z’s; plus we can do a little gift exchange if we can manage to drag Eva off that island again before the holidays. Note the traditional early start time- you know, so we can get past the paparazzi. Wonder if the “Keytown Mouse” will be hiding in the corner?
See you then,
Maggie
“The scarlet letter was her passport into regions where other women dared not tread.”
-The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne
The meeting would be a welcome bit of normalcy in her search for exactly that. Lisa laid the croissants on the table and opened the door to the office to the sounds of a mewing kitten she knew was waiting for her little cup of milk.
As she laid down the milk she heard the soft “ping” indicating a new email had arrived.
from:
Ben bnidale@starfishdesign.com
to:
Lisa lswain@blackbirdspie.com
date:
Monday, November 18, 2013, 9:54 AM
subject:
hello
Coffee sounds great. Name a time and place and I’ll be there.
Ben
Lisa smiled. She responded, setting up a coffee for the following week since she didn’t want to seem desperate. She chose an old-fashioned diner on the outskirts of town, too embarrassed for anyone near her shop to see her with another man so soon. She tried to squander thoughts of it being “too soon” since her husband’s death to be seeing Ben. But she also knew the only thing that had stopped the magnetic attraction between her and Ben had been her commitment to her husband and potential family, and all of that was gone now, leaving a huge empty space that even an adorable kitten couldn’t fill.
Kellie couldn’t stop thinking about the Phantom. She didn’t even know his name. She didn’t know how to figure out who he was or what he looked like. Short of walking across the street and banging on the door one morning after Brandon left for work (which was starting to seem like a better and better idea), she wasn’t sure what else she could do besides wait for him to make the next move.
She knew she wanted him to do this very badly. They couldn’t just have window sex with each other (as amazing as that had been) in the middle of their suburban neighborhood in broad daylight while she was already under investigation by the cops. She thought at first he must work at home, but since she’d been looking at the house more she noticed it seemed to be dead quiet a lot—and she was positive he wasn’t married. Maybe he had a home office
but also worked at night sometimes? She didn’t know, but Kellie was certainly open to the idea of the mystery man coming over during some weekday when Brandon was working.
Brandon had seemed really abnormally jealous about the Phantom. In the swinger lifestyle, everything was all about being open, and Kellie hadn’t lied about anything, if you didn’t count her omission of the voyeur encounter—but that had just been last week. She wondered if the Phantom would show up for another party at the club, though single men generally weren’t allowed. Their security had been pretty lapse, she thought with a smirk, since they’d let two uniformed cops in. The Phantom had managed to find out about the club and visit the party without being recognized. It seemed unlikely he’d just show up again unless his wife/girlfriend/whoever was with him so they could gain entry as a couple. She had searched the addresses and he definitely wasn’t a member. The whole thing was a true mystery.
Brandon walked into the kitchen and interrupted her thoughts. He was wearing only flannel pajama bottoms as he came over and greeted her, still disheveled from sleep. They’d fought about breaking the engagement, but both realized now would be a terrible time to plan a wedding. The running of the business, though on pins and needles, kept them busy. Things were usually peaceful lately, if strained.
“Good morning,” said Kellie, setting about getting coffee for each of them.
“Same to you,” said Brandon, reaching for a box of cereal.