by Maren Cooper
Not about to let him off the hook so easily, Jess straightened her glasses and took a sip of coffee, returning a tight smile. “She seems very competent. But let’s finish the other conversation. What exactly does Dick think he needs to know about my personal life?”
“He must be worried that Arthur is a lynchpin. I can see you’re going to make me say it, so I will.” His voice rose a tad, his facial muscles tightening so his handsome face seemed a bit too rigid for morning-coffee conversation. “He’s worried that you know all about it and are keeping it from him.”
Jess, sitting ramrod straight, paused to let Dan regain his composure and smiled with a bit more warmth. “Well, you know how these academic doctors are—they get recruited all the time. And this is a time of change at the university. Ripe for recruiters, I would think. Arthur has had other lucrative offers thrown at him over the years.” She spoke slowly so Dan could repeat her, word for word, back to Dick; she also ensured that she did not say anything untrue, trying to minimize the issue into a normal occurrence. Whether it was real or not, she was careful to stop short of dismissing Dan’s claim entirely, even as her mind raced with the question What in the hell is Arthur doing?
Jess looked Dan directly in the eye and added, “You and I both know how important family is, and this is my family. Dick doesn’t own us.” She held his eyes as she stood up and said, “Now, I have a ten o’clock meeting. Is that it?”
Chapter 3
Later that day, Jess dashed from her office to the yoga studio. She felt as fragile as a baby bird and knew time with Diane would give her a much-needed lift. She quickly changed into her sneakers, gently placed her Dolce & Gabbana heels in the shoebox she kept in her car, and dodged several manhole-size puddles while navigating the sidewalk.
She peeked into the studio; when she spotted Diane doing warm-up stretches, Jess felt her body ease. She waved to her friend and quickly ducked into the locker room to change.
Diane was immaculately put together in bright pink yoga pants and a fitted top. With her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked twenty-five, except for the well-deserved smile lines around her mouth and eyes.
“It’s about time. I was thinking I might have to take this class without you.” Diane was new to yoga and had embraced both the practice and all of its trappings: trendy outfits, the most expensive mat and blocks, and an enthusiasm that Jess hoped would last beyond the next few months.
Friends since second grade, Jess and Diane had always made time to nurture their relationship. Over the past several years, their twosome had grown to include Jess’s newer friend Claire, and the three of them were now as close as sisters. A fast-track executive working for a firm based in St. Louis, Claire was often out of town on business and preferred competitive sports and her company’s fully equipped gym to the slower pace of yoga.
“I think you still need me around to model the perfect downward dog!” Jess challenged Diane now with a bravado that she didn’t feel. “Do you have time to grab juice after?” she asked, hearing her too-eager voice.
Diane nodded after pointing out that Jess’s tank top was on inside out. When meditative music signaled the start of class, Jess tried to lose herself in the flow of the moves and the slight hint of lavender in the air. Sixty minutes later, she felt more flexible and relaxed.
They headed to the juice bar beyond the yoga space, where appetizing bottles of all types of juice and enhancements sat atop a carved-wood bar. The combination of mirrored shelves reflecting flattering, low light and the sounds of smooth jazz created an oasis of calm.
After Jess ordered a papaya smoothie, she grinned at Diane and said, “You have a glow to you today. Something exciting going on?”
Diane couldn’t keep much from Jess, and vice versa; they knew almost everything about each other. Diane fiddled with her ponytail as she answered, “Well, I’ve been seeing someone who may be interesting.” Still single at forty-five, she was ambivalent about her status. She had tried dating many times and had had a few serious relationships. She hadn’t found the right guy yet, but she was always looking for him.
“Oh? Interesting how?” Jess encouraged her.
“Well, George is the architect my nonprofit commissioned for the new community center we’re finally able to start. We’ve hit it off and are having fun getting to know each other. He’s a landscape guy, so we’ve been sharing ideas about how we might get a healing garden on the site as well.”
Jess nodded and leaned in as she let her senses absorb the music, the warmth of the small space, and the comfort of Diane’s soothing voice. She needed this reprieve from her own situation, and Diane was so excited; it was like free therapy. Seeing her friend’s twinkle as she spoke about George, Jess rallied.
“Sounds like this one might be a keeper. You haven’t scared him away yet?”
“Not yet.” Diane smiled, then slowly added, “We’re going to drive home to Goodrich on Sunday.”
Jess stopped sipping her smoothie and pulled herself up tall in her chair. “What? He’s made it across the first hurdle?” Diane had a rule that if she didn’t want to introduce a man to her parents, then he wasn’t someone to date for more than a month. This didn’t happen very often. The mention of Goodrich took Jess back to the warmth and love of Diane’s home, in which she had frequently found refuge as a child. She could almost smell the combined aromas of Murphy Oil Soap and just-baked cookies wafting from the kitchen.
It was so different from her own family’s house, where tension hung like draperies, and accusations and melodrama were as common as support and affection were rare. After Jess had refused to take sides in her parents’ bitter divorce battle, Diane’s parents had welcomed her to spend the last few months of her senior year of high school living with them. She had bolted to Boston after graduation with a full scholarship to Harvard and hadn’t looked back until she’d had several years of therapy. By then, her family had scattered, but Diane had remained constant. Jess’s move back to St. Louis for Arthur’s career had only further invigorated their friendship.
“This is exciting!” Jess started sipping again, taking a good look at her smitten friend. “Oh, happy day!” She laughed. “I knew it could happen; I just wondered if it would.”
“Yes, it’s a surprise to me, too. I feel different than I have with any other guy I’ve dated.” Diane gazed beyond Jess.
“Uh-oh . . . I think you’re a goner, Miss Diane.”
“Hey, don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s still early days.” Diane looked slyly at her friend. “Did you know right away with Arthur?”
“Oh my God, that’s ancient history. Where did that come from?” Jess shivered. She fumbled in her bag, pulled out her cover-up, and slowly put it on over her head, knocking her glasses off onto Diane’s lap.
“Well, remember, you were out East, and I wasn’t close enough to hear about all the romantic twists and turns of your early courtship.” Diane reached over, tucked the still-visible tag into Jess’s cover-up, and straightened her friend’s glasses, taking a long look at her.
“Boy, I must have since I married the man in six months!” Jess surprised herself with her best available laugh as she tightened her cover-up around her. “But I do regret eloping and not having my best friend with me. Gosh, I’m chilly. Must have been that smoothie. Ready to go?”
They stood and gathered their gear. Jess caught a flash of Diane’s bright image in the mirror and looked away before she could study her own reflection. She didn’t want to see herself disheveled and far from the “perfect” person she needed to be to keep her life under control. Diane’s question echoed. She wondered if things might have been different if she’d had her friend in Boston during those heady days of falling in love with Arthur.
They opened the studio doors to fast-fading light. Diane hesitated, then turned to Jess. “Hey, are you OK? You look . . . distracted. I didn’t really ask about what’s going on with you.”
Jess was glad for the dark as sh
e wavered briefly. “I’m just a little tired. Lots going on at work.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Diane didn’t move.
“Of course. I’m so happy for you. This guy sounds terrific.”
“Beth and Tom?” Diane probed.
“The kids are great, as always.” Jess smiled, noting that Diane didn’t inquire about Arthur, not her favorite guy. Jess recalled the night a year earlier when Diane had shared her real thoughts about him, after a rare overindulgence in wine, and she doubted now that Diane would even remember how she had spilled her guts on the subject. “A supreme ass, king of the castle” was how she had described Arthur, lambasting him for assuming that Jess would manage the household and the children while he presented himself to the world as a lifesaving hero.
But Diane didn’t know Arthur the way Jess did. She gave her friend a warm hug. This was clearly not the day to share any marital drama. “Have a great trip, and hug your parents for me, please.”
She drove home slowly, hoping to extend the reprieve until morning. She needed to think. Talk to Arthur. Yell at Arthur. Demand an explanation. They were a team, and they needed a plan. He was out of town at a meeting until Friday. What rumors were out there? What had he started with his wild talk?
Chapter 4
Jess had back-to-back meetings the next morning at the university hospital, so she left her downtown office and raced over to make the first one on time. Rounding the corner of the last corridor, she had just enough time to slip into the bathroom before the meeting. Coming in a little too fast, she practically ran into Joan, Arthur’s longtime research technician, a salt-of-the earth woman whom Jess loved.
“Uh . . . oh, hey, Joan. So nice to run into you—but not literally!” Both women laughed after shifting from their awkward body blow into a hug.
“Same to you. How are you? Arthur tells me Beth is doing well at Stanford. Are you expecting her back for the summer?” Joan asked.
“Gosh, I hope so,” Jess responded. “Is it wrong to want my girl home? Tom will be going away next fall, and I’m already missing him.”
“No, keep them home as long as possible,” Joan offered wistfully. “Family dynamics change when they leave. Empty nests aren’t what they’re cracked up to be. I sure miss the chaos of my three coming and going. Speaking of transitions, how are you feeling about the Portland thing? Arthur has asked me to go with him to set up his research lab there.”
Jess collapsed against the tile wall, her knees shaking. Her reaction must have frightened Joan, who started backpedaling, literally, out of the bathroom.
Before she could leave, Jess grabbed her arm and, after taking a deep breath, managed to ask, “Is it real?”
A new arrival into the public restroom allowed Joan to brush off the question—“Oh, you know him; could just be a whim”—and then scramble out before Jess could get the answer she needed.
Chapter 5
In their quick phone call the night before, Jess had found out that Arthur’s flight would come in around six o’clock that evening. She was startled to realize he was no longer in the practice of e-mailing her his itinerary, then admitted to herself she might have told him to stop doing it. She wondered what other common courtesies of their relationship had fallen by the wayside.
She told him she’d like to pick him up at the airport and grab a bite afterward, as they needed to talk.
“Good. I need an update on the kids. See you then.”
Typical of him to assume the only thing on her mind was a child-related issue. She didn’t correct him but wondered now if they could actually engage in an adult conversation about what was really going on, since she could no longer dismiss his behavior as simply letting off steam.
Traffic was light, and she arrived at the pickup spot early. The usual patrol of security police loomed, so she went around the airport loop again, then hovered and watched people coming and going. Lots of business travelers. Not a life she would choose. She opened the car window to get some fresh air.
She recalled the excitement of her international trips to scientific meetings with Arthur early in their relationship. But once the children had come, she had put a stop to accompanying him to serve as a supportive appendage in his rarefied world. Keeping her career going while raising children was challenging enough, especially as he traveled so often. These days, she didn’t confide in Arthur about what she did in her own demanding profession, and he no doubt realized that stories of his globe-trotting no longer mesmerized her. And now that the two of them were doing this strained merger tango, she wondered how they could ever find their old rhythm.
Her mind drifted to an earlier, pivotal moment in their marriage, another dangerous time. It seemed like yesterday, even though it had been almost fifteen years since then.
“I can’t believe you’re unwilling to go to this with me. I shouldn’t even have to ask you!” Arthur’s voice was barely shy of shouting.
“Shh, you’ll wake the kids!” Jess had turned on him. “Don’t you dare tell me I’m ‘unwilling’ to see you receive the European Award for Cancer Research, for God’s sake. I just can’t go that week, which, you know full well, is the week I’m closing out the Darnell deal. I need to be there. That’s just how it is!”
Tom started wailing then, giving Jess one more line. “And I suppose you think the children will just take care of themselves while we’re off partying in Amsterdam?”
She stalked off to her son’s room to coax him back to sleep. His warm toddler body against hers calmed her. How could Arthur be so obtuse? She was terribly proud of him, but the sheer logistical nightmare of juggling kids and work was more than she could face.
The next day, as she waited for her stylist at the hair salon, she had picked up a magazine and noticed an article about how to prevent the seven-year itch in a marriage. It spoke to her. Was she making time for her husband? Did she prioritize her children over him? How often did they have sex? Had they tried anything new lately? Did they discuss anything other than children and household matters? As the stylist came for her, she put the magazine down, but not before she saw a photo of a woman in a bustier and fishnet stockings, with the caption “Spice up your marriage before it’s too late.”
She then had returned to her office and gotten busy. She still wouldn’t go to Amsterdam, but Arthur had agreed to fly to Chicago one night earlier than his departure to the Netherlands to speak at a fund-raiser for the cancer charity that supported some of his research. She would surprise him there.
Three tense days later, she was in Chicago, executing her plan. Her damn stilettos were killing her, but she was able to navigate to her hotel’s bar directly across the street from the Drake Hotel.
In her mind’s eye, she saw Arthur charming the two hundred people in the Drake ballroom, as she had watched him do with so many similar groups in the past. Handsome and charismatic in his tux, he would be seated at the head table with the chair of the gala. He would make witty conversation so every guest would be able to recall a personal exchange he or she had had with this brilliant scientist. His talk would be short but would make an impact. His favorite device was to tell a story about one of his pediatric patients, using the child’s words to relate a conversation Arthur had had with him or her, describing the parents’ angst and dire situation. Careful not to overplay the drama, he would simply describe the treatment required and the research process, and how important it was to get to the clinical-trials phase so Johnny or Susie would have a chance at survival. By the end of his talk, his voice would be a whisper, and everyone would be listening intently. As he closed and thanked the audience, the table captains would be asked to hand out pens and envelopes to accept a flood of generous donations.
That should happen at about 8:35 p.m. When he returned to his seat, he would find a note at his place allowing him to make his excuses for an early departure from the event.
Jess had wanted to see him walk into the bar to gauge his response. But now that all was ready
, she had stage fright. What if he doesn’t get the note or is angry that I’ve come? At eight thirty p.m., she positioned herself at a corner table opposite the door and ordered scotch—not her usual drink, but there was nothing usual about this. She had flown into Chicago in the late afternoon and spent two hours at the salon in her boutique hotel. She’d asked for upswept hair, smoky eyes, and red nails. She had ordered champagne to be delivered to their suite by nine p.m.
She sipped her drink and took a deep breath, then looked down at her cleavage and closed her satin evening coat a bit. Her push-up corset was working wonders. After two babies, it helped. Luckily, the elegant coat concealed it well. Nobody would guess she wore a short, slit skirt and a black lace garter belt. She carefully crossed her legs so her spike heels could work their magic.
She only wished she could see. But she refused to spoil the look by putting on her glasses. After the fourth sip of her cocktail, she saw a blurry man in a tux at the door searching the bar, then coming her way. From five feet away, she locked eyes with the love of her life. Her anxiety had melted as she saw his look of relief, then desire.
“Jessica.”
“Arthur.”
“I can’t believe you came.”
“I can’t believe I did either. Is it OK?” She trembled in response to his slow appraisal of her.
“OK? Are you kidding? It’s incredible. Thank you.”
“Arthur, I’m sorry to disappoint you and not go to Amsterdam.”
“And I’m sorry I pushed. I do get it, most of the time. I just miss you. I love you.”
“I know.” She took his hand.
He touched her leg. “What are you drinking?”
“Scotch.”
“Really? That’s different.” His hand stroked her thigh. “Yes.” She closed her eyes. “Arthur?” “Yes, Jess.”