Husbands and Other Sharp Objects: A Novel

by Marilyn Simon Rothstein

  “No, Mom,” Amanda said. “We never laugh. We’re against laughing.”

  “You’re all terrible,” Jordan said.

  Ben returned with coffee, one for me and one for him.

  “I spoke to Dad’s doctor,” Elisabeth said. “He’ll be released in four days, but he won’t allow air travel for two weeks.”

  I could hear three minds ticking, like bombs about to explode.

  “Well, we can’t leave Dad in Florida. One of us needs to stay,” Elisabeth said.

  “So who’s staying?” I asked.

  Ben looked at me like I had just said something totally insane.

  “We thought you were,” Elisabeth said.

  I studied their faces. I knew their faces were about to change.

  “I’m not staying,” I said.

  “What?” Amanda said.

  “What I said.”

  They were his children, and they needed to step up. Not just now, but forever. Because Harvey and I were apart, Harvey was not my responsibility. We had taken care of our children to the best of our ability, and now in Florida, the day after Amanda’s wedding, the tables had turned.

  The three of them stared at me.

  “Don’t look at me,” I said.

  “Mom, you mean you’re just going to leave him here, in Florida, by himself?” Ben said.

  Silence filled the room.

  I sat down on the edge of the conversation-pit couch. It was low. I wasn’t comfortable. I stood back up.

  “Am I looking at three adults?” I asked.

  Ben glanced at Amanda; Amanda turned to Elisabeth.

  I could see from their disappointed, downcast faces that they understood. There was no chance of their parents getting back together. The play was over. The curtain had come down.

  Ben spoke first. “Mom’s right. Someone has to stay, but I have to be back at law school.”

  “Elisabeth?” Amanda said. “What could be better than having a doctor at his side?”

  Elisabeth climbed out from under the bus Amanda had driven over her. “I can’t remain here. I’m scheduled to be in Nairobi as a medical volunteer.”

  “How long will you be gone?” I asked.

  “Two weeks.”

  “So go another time,” Amanda said.

  Elisabeth was annoyed. “You can stay, Amanda. You’re not going on your honeymoon until next month. And by the way, Ben, so what if you miss a week of school? You’d miss a week of school if you were ill. You’d miss a week of school to go on a trip. You’d . . .”

  “I’m not ill. I’m not tripping. And do you have any idea how tough law school is?”

  “Not tougher than medical school was.”

  And just when I thought they couldn’t revert any further into their childhood roles, Ben turned to Elisabeth and said, “Want to bet?”

  I was waiting for Elisabeth to stick out her tongue when Feldman appeared out of nowhere. He was in resort clothing, but carrying a briefcase.

  “Family disagreement? No arguing! By the way, I’m on my way to see Harvey,” Feldman said.

  “He’ll be thrilled to see you,” Elisabeth said.

  “Everyone is thrilled to see me.”

  We all smiled.

  “When are you leaving?” Ben said. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”

  “Leaving?” Feldman snorted. “I’m not going anywhere. Your father is going to need company. I am staying as long as he needs me. I can work from here.”

  Elisabeth was shocked. Amanda released her shoulders. Ben smiled with relief.

  “I’ll come back on the weekend,” Ben promised Feldman.

  “And I can stay with him when he gets back to Connecticut,” Elisabeth offered.

  “I haven’t told Dad yet, but I am going to work at Bountiful,” Amanda said.

  Feldman turned to me. “That Harvey. You have to give him credit. He brought up three great kids.”

  I laughed. “He” brought up, I thought.

  I needed to pack, but instead, I started out the door that led to the pool and the beach.

  “Where are you going, Mom?” Amanda said as she caught up with me.

  “To the beach. I’m going to dig my toes into sand and breathe in the ocean.”

  “Do you mind if I come?” she said.

  “I would love for you to come.”

  We cut across the pool area, unhooking the gate that opened to the broad stretch of fine sand and the sea. A few people walked along the more shallow water. I set my sights on the horizon.

  As we walked along the shore, Amanda held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger. Her solid gold wedding band twinkled in the sun. “I’m married,” she said.

  “I can’t believe I’m old enough to have a married daughter. How is that even possible? I have to tell you something. Once, about three years ago, I was in a department store with you. I think it was Nordstrom. I was buying a dress, and we had lost track of each other. After I paid the cashier, I turned to look for you. At the accessories counter, I saw this spectacular young woman trying on dangling gold earrings. But in my head, I was searching for a child, so I didn’t realize it was you. I remember you waved to me and called out, ‘Mom,’ and I was surprised, really surprised. I feel so lucky to have reached this point in my life, to have three wonderful, healthy children I am so proud of. And then there’s Jake. The way he acted through this. You know, my mother would have called him a mensch.”

  Amanda slipped out of her flip-flops, and I took off my sandals. We walked in the water, kicking up little waves, carrying our shoes in one hand. Amanda splashed me, and I returned the favor.

  “I’m married!” she shouted, tossing her flip-flops in the air.

  “You’re married,” I shouted.

  Water splashed in my eyes, and salt mixed with salt.

  Candy came running up to us. “Amanda, everyone is looking for you. Jake is about to take his parents to the airport, and Mrs. Berger wants to say good-bye before she goes.”

  Amanda excused herself.

  “My daughter has in-laws,” I said to Candy. “How crazy is that?”

  Candy and I linked arms.

  “I just spoke to Ellison. He’s back from his business trip. He’s going to pick us up at the airport.”

  “Pick you up,” I said.

  “And you?”

  “I’ve decided to go straight from here to Tokyo.”

  “Well, well. How did you get a ticket on such short notice?”

  “That part was easy. I used every one of Harvey’s American Express points.”

  She grinned, and her eyes seemed to sparkle.

  “The Guild is closed for the holidays until the second week of January. I have time to talk to Christopher about getting someone in. The plans for Art Explosion are well underway. And there’s always Cheyenne.”

  She stood still and faced me. “How did I ever get by without you as a friend?”

  “Ditto, kid,” I said.

  “Marcy, this wedding is an event I will never forget.”

  “Tell Ellison that I’m sorry he missed the wedding, but almost everyone missed it.”

  “Amanda was a very brave girl,” Candy said.

  “You would have done the same thing,” I said. “Your dad would have been there or bust.”

  “I guess so,” Candy said as she looked down at the sand. We were no longer in front of our hotel but a strip of hotels, and the only thing that changed was the colors of the lounges and umbrellas.

  “Harvey swears he is throwing a huge party for her once he is well. And you know what? I don’t want to know a thing about it. I’m just going to show up with a present.”

  “And I am going to show up with my fiancé.”

  “What?” I stopped in my tracks in the sand.

  “Ellison asked me to marry him,” she said.

  “What?” I shook my hands in the air with excitement.

  “We’re going to a jeweler next week, because he thought I should design the ring
and have exactly what I want.”

  “When did he ask?”

  “Last week.”

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  “Is there a way to have a wedding without actually planning it?” I said.

  “Don’t worry. I’m keeping it small. No more than one bridesmaid.”

  “Me?”

  She nodded, and my heart was full.

  We headed back toward our hotel. My phone was ringing, but I didn’t care.

  “Your phone,” Candy said.

  “Are you serious? I’m not picking it up now. I have a million questions to ask.”

  “Well, at least see who it is.”

  I shrugged and glanced at my phone. I didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway.

  “Grace Greene,” a businesslike voice said.

  I pulled on Candy’s arm so she would stop walking. We stood in place, looking out at the sea.

  “Hi,” I said tentatively, wondering why my attorney would be on the phone. I had told her that I would schedule an appointment after the wedding.

  “Marcy, I thought you would want to know that Harvey called my office yesterday.”

  “Why would he do that?” I had never mentioned a word about Grace Greene to Harvey. I waited for her answer and held the phone with sweaty hands.

  “He was seeking representation.”

  “But he’s in the hospital in Florida. He had a heart attack.”

  “What does that mean? You don’t need a heart to call a divorce attorney.”

  I held out the phone so Candy could hear easily.

  “I did not return his call,” Grace Greene said.

  “What do I do?” I said.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I want him to file first.”

  “Not a problem. My associate mentioned that your husband was clearly in a hurry.”

  I thanked her for calling. My head was spinning.

  “I heard it all, and I know what did it,” Candy said.

  “Really?”

  “He thought you’d stay and take care of him. When he heard you were leaving, he knew it was over. Before he could see the heel of your shoes, he called a lawyer.”

  It was amazing how right on the nose Candy was. Wasn’t that exactly what a really close, intuitive girlfriend could do? Call it exactly right before you even had a chance to figure it out?

  I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. “I’m relieved it happened this way. I needed to divorce him, but I wanted him to initiate the divorce. Who knew he would take his time?”

  “I hear Grace Greene is ruthless,” Candy said.

  “Your cousin told me she is the fiercest divorce attorney in Connecticut. Apparently, she eats stone for breakfast.”

  “I’ll bet she does if Harvey called her.”

  “I want you to know something,” I said.

  “So tell me, Marcy.”

  “I’m taking the high road.”

  “Really?”

  “Harvey can have custody of all three kids.”

  Candy laughed. “And the son-in-law?”

  “One night a week and weekends.”

  Candy said she was going to the hotel to check out. I took off my shoes and dawdled alone, at the edge of the water. The tide was coming in. Kids were splashing. A couple dunked while holding hands. A father steadied his toddler on an alligator float.

  I stared at the water, watching the waves ripple in. I caught a seashell in my hand. In less than twenty-four hours, I would land in Tokyo, and Jon would be at the airport. I imagined him waiting, waving. I loved the image—Jon in his blue jeans and hunter-green polo in a throng of Japanese businessmen clad in black suits and white shirts.

  I lingered on the beach, thinking about how much fun we would have. In my beach bag was the Japanese phrase book.

  I flipped through the pages, seeking the words I would need upon arrival, my most essential Japanese.

  There were so many ways to say “I love you,” and so many reasons to say it.

  Acknowledgments

  Danielle Marshall told me I would be in excellent hands. Then I got lucky. She became my editor and wrapped her hands around mine.

  I am indebted to Alicia Clancy for getting on board and getting everything right.

  I am forever grateful to Kelli Martin, the wonderful Lake Union editor who gave me my start.

  Many thanks to Lindsay Guzzardo for dedicated developmental editing.

  What a pleasure to work with Gabriella Dumpit and the entire Lake Union team.

  Joelle Delbourgo is my literary agent. This is my second novel published by Lake Union. I’d say Joelle has done an admirable job.

  Most Wednesdays, I go to Greenwich Village to acquire some wisdom from New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Belle. I am fortunate to have her as my guide.

  My beta readers are alpha people. Sharyn Rothstein and Marisa Rothstein are my daughters; Sandra Simon Klein and Debra Simon are the world’s best sisters; Lanie Robertson and Colleen Lorenz are cherished friends; Alan Rothstein is my lifelong advisor.

  Also, I appreciate the valuable insight of Julie Flaakstad, Fiona Capuano, Desiree Rhine, Katie Sammis, Alison Barto, Nancy Shapanka, and Alexa Goldstein.

  I am fortunate to be a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association.

  It is a pleasure and a privilege to know my fellow Lake Union authors.

  Thanks to the supportive people at Beth El Temple of West Hartford, Connecticut, Carolina Woman magazine, Asset Strategies Inc., and Honest Leo Inc.

  Shalom to the Jewish Book Council. I am proud to be a JBC author on tour.

  Frieda and Leo Simon of blessed memory. We hear you.

  Lucien. Frankie. Sydney. Your names are in a book.

  Alan, thank you for forty-one years of service to the Simon Organization. There’s a Bombay Sapphire martini—with a blue cheese–stuffed olive—waiting at home for you.

  About the Author

  Marilyn Simon Rothstein is the author of Lift and Separate, winner of the Star Award presented by the Women’s Fiction Writers Association for Outstanding Debut. She grew up in New York City, earned a degree in journalism from New York University, began her writing career at Seventeen magazine, married a man she met in an elevator, and owned an advertising agency for more than twenty-five years. Marilyn received an MA in liberal studies from Wesleyan University and an MA in Judaic studies from the University of Connecticut.