Young Wives

by Olivia Goldsmith

  Angie nodded and wrote MICHELLE at the top of a new page. Underneath it she wrote OWN BUSINESS, SELF-SUPPORTING, FREE FROM FRANK, and FREE FROM COURT.

  “I also think I have to live somewhere else,” Michelle added. “You know how I loved that house. But it was sick, and now it’s all ruined. This town is no good for me or the kids anymore.” Michelle sighed.

  Angie wrote RELOCATION on the pad. “Good,” Michelle said. “Okay, so you got some start out of me. But it’s impossible.”

  She was angry all of a sudden. Angry at her powerlessness and fear, at what had happened to herself and her kids. “All of this stuff is pretty much impossible. Me as my own boss! A new place to live. Why bother to talk about any of it if we can’t achieve it?” Michelle hunched her shoulders. “There’s no way that I could have my own business.” She laughed. “I never even had my own checking account. And talking about justice is fine, but when do women get that?”

  “I think we could get it,” Angie said. “It might take a little planning. It might take a little help, and a little time but I think we could do it.” She pointed to her chest. ‘“Operating Without Male Guidance.’”

  “I think it’s possible, too,” Jada added. “If we’re willing to bend the rules or break them. It’s too bad all of this would take some money,” she added.

  For the first time since they had focused on her, Michelle lifted her head and straightened her spine. “You know,” she said slowly, “I might know a way around that.”

  48

  If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?

  “I don’t know if I can do it. What’s my name again?”

  “Anthea Carstairs,” Angie reminded Michelle.

  “Who am I married to?”

  Jada and Angie looked at each other for the answer. Then Jada’s index finger pointed up. “Charles Henderson Moyers. I read about him in Fortune magazine.”

  “Only the richest, most secretive guy in the world,” Angie told her. “Perfect!”

  “What if Reid wants my phone number?” Michelle asked.

  “Oh for God’s sake, Michelle—I mean, Anthea,” Jada said. “You can’t get arrested over the phone. If you don’t do it, I will.” She reached for the phone.

  “Well, what if he has caller ID?” Michelle asked.

  “Then a big cop’s arm will push out of the receiver and collar you,” Jada said. “God, you’re a wimpy white girl.”

  “Don’t wig out. I know they don’t have caller ID,” Angie assured Michelle. “Andover Putnam probably still has rotary dials. When I say an old-line law firm, I mean really old-line.” They were sitting in Angie’s office, rendezvousing there because it was the only place Michelle wasn’t ashamed to show her now yellow and green face, and where they could have some privacy because, as Jada had pointed out, “They don’t give us a private office and phone use at Price Chopper.”

  Michelle looked over the piece of paper in front of her. For three evenings, the women had spent most of their free time plotting out how to make their plans, their desires, and their justice come about. This was only the very first step, Angie thought, the easiest one, and already Michelle wanted to wimp out. Angie took a deep breath, then waited while Michelle pulled herself together, touching the side of her face.

  “What if I’m still swollen by next week?” she asked.

  “You won’t be. But if you are, it will just be a little more dramatic,” Angie said. “He likes to rescue people. He also likes blondes. And big fees.”

  “Okay,” Michelle said, “here goes nothin’.” She punched in the number and asked for extension 239. She looked at the sheet of instructions in front of her. Voice mail, hang up. Secretary, say it’s an emergency. But the phone was picked up and a man’s voice said hello.

  “Hello,” Michelle responded, and tried to put an extra breath into it. “Is this Mr. Reid Wakefield?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She nodded to the other women. Angie felt her heart thumping, her chest tighten, and even the artery in her neck move as her blood rose. “Mr. Wakefield, this is Anthea Carstairs,” Michelle said. “You’ve come very highly recommended to me by a client of yours.”

  “Oh? That’s always nice to hear. Who?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information,” she said. “I mean, he asked me to keep this quite confidential and said that you and Andover Putnam were especially good at keeping things in the family—as it were,” Michelle was pleased with that last bit. “As it were,” sounded classy.

  “Well, I like to think all attorneys keep their clients’ work confidential,” the jerk said. Michelle thought he did sound like a jerk, right from the get go, not just because of all Angie had told her. “We try to treat each of our clients as if they were special.”

  He was a jerk. “I have a very special problem. It involves my pre-nup and my inheritance.” She paused. “I don’t really want to discuss this over the phone. Would it be possible to come in and see you?”

  “Certainly,” he said. “But perhaps you could—”

  “Listen, fees are no problem. Not even an issue.” Oh, that sounded coarse. She looked on the sheet in front of her to see what she could add. “And Howard said that you could be most accommodating …”

  “Howard Simonton?” Reid asked.

  It was a name Angie had known from the firm. Big CEO with some big legal problem. “Oh please,” Michelle said. “Just forget I mentioned his name. Promise me you will.” He better. Howard Simonton had never heard of any Anthea Carstairs.

  “No problem. Really,” the jerk said, but his voice was full of new respect.

  “Then maybe you could meet with me?”

  “Fine. Of course. What would be good for you?” he asked. Michelle nodded to her friends. Angie was gesturing, but Michelle didn’t know what she was trying to express. God, this wasn’t charades!

  “I think Tuesday would be good,” Michelle said. “About four o’clock.”

  “Let’s say four-thirty. How do you spell your name?” Michelle knew he had forgotten it. Thank God she hadn’t.

  “Anthea Carstairs,” she said. “Spell it however you like,” she told him and she hung up.

  “Woooo-hooooo!” Jada yelled. “Honey, the silver screen missed out on a real talent when you decided to become a homemaker.”

  “Perfect. Perfect!” Angie agreed, dancing around.

  Michelle felt good, almost cocky. She could do things. “Well, our next nominee for the Academy Award is none other than Angie Romazzano, who starred in The Mistaken Honeymoon and A Woman Scorned,” Michelle said, and handed the phone over to Angie.

  Jada laughed. “Now let’s see her in a clip from her latest work, Payback Time.” She did a perfect imitation of an Entertainment Tonight anchor.

  “Okay, okay,” Angie said. “I appreciate the support as well as your competitive instinct.” She lifted up the phone and dialed Andover Putnam’s number again. She felt her mouth go dry. Even her lips were dry. When the automated voice came on, she punched in Lisa’s extension number. She could deal with voice mail or Lisa, but not with Donna, the secretary they once shared. That would be too much. Well, she would take this as a sign. If Donna answered, the whole crazy idea wouldn’t work. But if Lisa picked up … She held her breath for a minute and then heard her once-best-friend-now-enemy cheerfully say her name.

  “Lisa, this is Angie.” There was a pause, and Angie wondered whether Lisa was going to hang up. She looked over at Michelle and Jada, both leaning in toward her, both wide-eyed with curiosity. “Look,” Angie said. “I know we haven’t spoken to each other, since, well, you know, but I feel very bad.”

  “I do, too, Angie,” Lisa said, and Angie had to roll her eyes toward the ceiling.

  Michelle and Jada looked at one another, then back at Angie, who took a very deep breath before asking, “Really?” Not that she cared. Okay, she told herself. Now it was time for the real bullshit. “Lisa, I feel like I didn’t just lose a marriage. Obvio
usly, that was on its way out anyway. But I also lost a best friend. That was tough.” Phew. That was hard to get out, but she’d done it. Meanwhile her friends were acting up; Michelle covered her mouth with her hands and Jada stuck a finger down her throat and imitated gagging. Victim queen, Jada silently mouthed. Angie gave them both a cutesy smile.

  “Angie, I’m so … surprised … and touched that you’d feel that way.” Lisa was such a narcissist, she just might buy it. Or, who knew? Maybe she had a conscience.

  “Well, it didn’t happen overnight,” Angie admitted. “But I’ve had a lot of time to think. I mean, maybe we could never be friends the way we were.” Jada opened her eyes really wide at that and gave an exaggerated nod of her head. Angie paid no attention. She had to concentrate on Lisa. “But I would like to talk to you. And I have a few things I’d like to give you,” Angie said.

  Michelle flipped out her index finger. “Give her the bird,” she whispered, until Jada covered her mouth.

  Angie missed the first few words of what Lisa had said, because of the two of them giggling. But it didn’t matter. Still, Lisa wasn’t stupid, so Angie knew she had to be careful.

  “… and then to hear from you, just like this …” Lisa was saying.

  “Well, I do have an ulterior motive,” Angie admitted, and she almost smiled as she heard Lisa’s silent alarms go off. “You know the last time I saw you, well … Reid … you know.” Angie paused as if she were embarrassed. “Anyway, there were a few things I didn’t bring back from Boston. Just small stuff, like a sketch book from Provincetown and, well, you know.”

  “Sure,” Lisa said. She must have been remembering that day in the apartment, too. Angie smiled. Lisa wanted the divorce final. And then there was her avarice …

  “Anyway, I also have a ring from Reid. I think it was a family stone. Anyway, he had it set at Shreve, Crump & Lowe for me, and I think you ought to have it.”

  “Oh, Angie,” Lisa said. “That is just so”—now it was her turn to pause—”so very generous of you. I mean legally, I think—”

  “Come on, Lisa. You know we’re not talking legally. The ring doesn’t give me any pleasure and it might give you some.” Angie looked up and Jada was giving her the okay sign. “I’m working down in Westchester County now, but I can take a late afternoon flight up next week. I’ll bring the ring. We could meet for dinner or a drink, and then go over to the condo and pick up my stuff. I’ll fax you a list of it if you want. Nothing expensive. But I would like a pair of my flannel pajamas, and there’s a journal I kept. Stuff like that. Would that work?”

  “Sure,” Lisa said, the greed loud and clear in her voice. “I’m booked up on Monday and Thursday but the rest of the week is open.”

  “Okay,” Angie said. “Well, let me think about it and I’ll call you back.” She raised an eyebrow for her friends’ benefit. “Ah, just one thing, Lisa. I’m really still angry at Reid. I don’t want him to know about any of this. It’s just too humiliating.” She grinned at Michelle and Jada and gave them the nod. “It has to be a secret. Otherwise I won’t come. Can you promise?”

  “Absolutely,” Lisa said, and Angie could almost hear the tinkling sound the imagined ring made in Lisa’s materialistic little brain. “Fine then. I’ll call soon.” She hung up.

  Jada stood up, and Michelle followed her. Both of them clapped. Then Michelle stuck out a hand and looked over at Jada, who did the same. “It’s a two thumbs up,” Michelle said. Jada nodded her head.

  “The bitch bought it. Big time,” she said.

  “You know that old saying? When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping?” Michelle said. “Well, we got a lot of outfitting to do. Something to wear to Boston and some maternity clothes for you, little mama,” she said to Angie. “And maybe some baby clothes, as well.” She turned to her pal. “Jada, you’re going to need a lot of luggage. I couldn’t stand to see you traveling with cardboard boxes. And then there are the outfits for us in Marblehead.”

  “Speaking of which, it will be quite a drive for us,” Angie told them.

  “We’ll have more time to practice our parts,” Jada commented.

  “And to get us in the mood, what do you say we start in the lingerie department?” Michelle grinned. “I don’t know if Frank has canceled our credit cards yet, but it’s time to find out.”

  “Michelle, you haven’t won the lottery,” Jada told her. “You shouldn’t do it. Not for us.”

  “Really not for me,” Angie said. “I have a job.”

  Michelle looked at both of them. “Hey, who took me in when I had nowhere to go? Who helped me with the kids? Come on. Don’t be stupid.” She looked at Jada. “I think we better buy your kids some summer clothes while we’re at it,” Michelle said, holding up a Visa card. “They’ll call it ‘cruisewear’ and it will be a fortune, but I think you’ll need it. Who knows how long this lottery ticket will last?”

  They were in the mall until it closed. Michelle had not only outfitted Angie for her pregnancy, but had put together a complete layette as well. Good thing she did, too, because Angie didn’t know a thing about it. She kept picking out the cute stuff that was next to useless once the baby came. Jada talked her out of most of it, but Michelle let her get the dry-clean-only tiny white woolen sweater and booties made to look like saddle shoes because they were so damn cute. Next all three of them almost died laughing when they went up to lingerie and Michelle and Jada tried on garter belts, push-up bras, and g-strings.

  “Look at us,” Jada said. “Angie, you are stunning, and Michelle, you are a fabulous blond bombshell, even if your roots do need touching up. And if I have to say so myself I’m a great looking brunette with good hair. But none of us is getting any.”

  “Some of us might be getting some soon,” Angie giggled.

  “Oooh,” Jada and Michelle cried.

  They giggled, and Angie began to lose patience with them—until she saw the color of Michelle’s gold card.

  “The best part is, it’s all charged to Frank,” Michelle said. “It’s the only reason men are better than dogs—some men have charge accounts.”

  Jada had been talked into a great pair of leather slacks and a fabulous orange silk sweater—very seductive. “Perfect for you, Jenette,” Michelle said, practicing Jada’s cover name.

  Michelle bought herself the most ridiculous little suit that anyone in Westchester—a county known for ridiculous little suits—could ever wear. Actually, the idea of wearing it almost made her giggle out loud. The other two did when they came out of the dressing room and saw her in it.

  “God! I wish I could see what that looks like in the hallowed halls of Putnam Andover.” Angie laughed.

  “Too much?” Michelle wanted to know.

  “Uh-uh. Perfect for Anthea Carstairs. Definitely a ‘Glamour Do,’” Angie told her.

  Weighed down with their purchases, they decided to dump everything in their cars and then have a quick bite at Ruby Tuesday’s before they went home. Michelle put a lot of the stuff into the trunk of the Lexus and joined her two friends at the booth they had already secured.

  She slid in beside them. “Girls,” she said, “this is a momentous day for me.” Just then the waiter interrupted and they ordered—potatoes stuffed with various things, including potatoes, beers for two of them, and club soda for the fat one. The boy who took their order thought they were just silly suburban women. He didn’t know they were anarchists.

  “Okay,” Michelle reminded them after the waiter had left, “I know what I’m going to do.”

  “You mean up in Massachusetts? We’ve been through that three times,” Angie said. “But maybe we should run through it again.”

  “Later,” Michelle said, and her voice had a ring of authority that made them both pay attention. She was impressed with herself as she looked at the two of them. “I have an announcement to make.” She pulled a card out of her purse and slid it across the table.

  CINDERELLA CLEANING SERVICE

  Ench
anting Housekeeping

  Tiny feet, magic wands, but no prints

  “Michelle! Oh my God!” Angie said.

  Jada stared from the card to Michelle’s face. “It’s perfect for you,” she said. “You’re the Queen of Clean.”

  “Better than the other kind,” Michelle grinned, delighted at their response. “And I’m not just going to do the cleaning,” she admitted. “I’m going to start training some people as soon as they answer my ads. I’ll begin by going to each house, even if I have to clean it myself. But then I’ll go with my employees. They’ll clean, but I’ll check everything. I figure I can handle four houses a day. Maybe five, if I can get the right staff. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s great,” Jada said.

  Angie nodded her head, a huge smile on her face. “Unbelievable. Perfect. But you left off a phone number,” she added, looking more closely at the card.

  Michelle paused. “It wasn’t a mistake,” she admitted. She paused again. “It’s because I’m going to have to move. You know I will.” The three women were silent for a minute.

  “It’s okay. I want to put the kids in a different school in September. This is no good for them here. We’ll adjust.”

  Their potatoes arrived and Michelle pulled her credit card from her purse along with scissors she had bought for the occasion. But she also pulled out three shuttle tickets and waved them in front of the girls. “A gift from Frank,” she said, and handed them to Angie. “And now,” she said ceremoniously, “I’m going to be responsible for myself.” She cut the Visa card in half and then in quarters, and she pulled out her American Express and her MasterCard and cut them, too. She’d thought it might be frightening, but it actually felt satisfying, liberating. Soon she had a little stack of plastic bits arranged on the bread dish beside her. She lifted it up. “Thin mints, anyone?” she asked.

  “Maybe a Martha Stewart mosaic,” Angie suggested.

  “Forget that bitch,” she said, and hugged Michelle. “Congratulations, girlfriend,” Jada said. “You go, girl!”