Lost Along the Way (23 page)

“Why don't you release a statement?” Meg asked. “You must have a PR firm you can contact. Aren't there crisis people who handle this stuff? Do you know anyone who knows Justin Bieber? His people have been busy. Maybe they could help?”

“No, I don't know anyone who knows Justin Bieber. After just seeing my possible death reported on the news, that's the second strangest thing I've heard someone say today.”

A quick knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Nick and Sebastian entered. The screen door slammed shut and Sebastian barked a high-pitched yelp, his tail wagging so vigorously that when he ran by the console table, he actually rattled a picture frame. He scurried up to Meg and thrust his furry head into her lap, begging for some attention.
If only that technique worked as well for humans,
Jane thought.

“Well, ladies, it seems we have a problem,” Nick said, pulling a beer out of the fridge and popping the top with a bottle opener attached to his key chain. He might have been the straightest gay man in America.

“Did you see the news, too?” Meg asked.

“No. Why, what's on the news?” Nick responded.

“Jane may be dead,” Cara answered.

“They never actually said that,” Meg pointed out.

“It was implied. So I guess that means we're in the middle of
a séance. Does anyone have any questions they want answered from the great beyond?” Jane asked. “I'll do my best.”

“They said you were dead?” Nick asked, a grin creeping over his stubbled face.

“Yup,” Jane answered.

“I repeat, they never actually said that!” Meg said again.

“Whatever. Maybe it was wishful thinking on their part.”

“Well, I don't mean to kick you when you're down, but I ran into the girl who took your coffee orders the other day in town this morning. She recognized you, Jane,” Nick added.

“Tell her I don't give autographs.”

“I don't think that's what she was after. She took a picture of you guys in the coffee shop on her phone. She was planning on selling it to the tabloids.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jane asked as she jumped off the couch, having had enough of people attacking her for one day. “This is the Hamptons. There are famous people—legitimate celebrities—all over the place. Why would anyone care that I was out here in a coffeehouse?”

“Because Sheila is bored and not making as much money in tips as she was during the summer, that's why,” Meg answered.

“Anyway, I deleted the photo, so you have nothing to worry about on that front. That said, she's onto you, and she has a big mouth. If you were looking to hide out I'm afraid your days are numbered.”

“How much money do you think a photo of me in a coffeehouse would go for?” Jane asked.

“Less than a photo of you naked, I'd imagine,” Cara answered.

“Depends on who you're naked with,” Nick offered.

“True. But since no guy with any concern for his reputation
would be caught anywhere near me, naked pictures are probably not in my future. Unless you're offering, Nick?”

“Sorry, I'm not. But I swear, it has nothing to do with your husband being a criminal. It's because girls have cooties.”

“Right.”

“Look, I just wanted you to know that you're not entirely off the radar. Maybe, considering this news report bullshit, that's a good thing. What do I know? But if you don't want to give Sheila a second chance at a snapshot, maybe steer clear of the coffeehouse.”

“Meg's coffee is better anyway,” Jane said.

“I think you need something stronger after this,” Meg added.

“You're right, Meg. I deserve to have a few drinks after this. We all do. I deserve an A for effort for not having one earlier in the day, but circumstances have changed. Wine. We need wine. Pronto.”

“I stopped and picked some up on my way over, but I left it in my car. I'll go grab it,” Nick offered.

“This is kind of like my funeral. If I'm going to be present for it, I want a drink,” Jane joked.

“Seems like a reasonable request,” Nick answered.

“I'll start lunch,” Meg said, fishing some of the vegetables Jane had brought home out of the drawer in the refrigerator.

“I'm not that hungry,” Jane said. “I think maybe I'll just have a liquid lunch.”

“What about all the things you bought from the farm stand? You don't want to try anything?” Meg asked, hoping she'd be able to guilt Jane into eating something.

“No thanks,” Jane said, once again feeling lost in a way she hadn't since she'd left the city three days ago. “I just lost my appetite.”

D
id I ever tell you guys about the time Doug took me to the opera?” Jane asked a few hours later, after Nick had left and she'd drunk a few glasses of wine. They had decided to get away from the TV and were sitting outside on the back deck, enjoying the last of the afternoon sun, hoping that some fresh air would make Jane feel a little better. Jane knew that Cara and Meg were racking their brains for something helpful to say but were coming up empty. So Jane figured it was better if they just listened. “It was probably two or three months after we'd started dating.”

“I don't think so,” Meg said. “You never really talked about him all that much.”

“Until you told us you'd married him,” Cara added. “Is it too soon to joke about that?”

“Nah. I deserve that. I guess I didn't really talk about him much, but it wasn't because I didn't want you to know about him. I think I was afraid to let people know how much I loved him. I knew it made me vulnerable and I hated that. I guess I figured if you never knew about him, you'd never know it if he left me. That was my biggest fear back then, that one day he'd call me up and tell me he wanted to break up with me. I was so insecure that I remember thinking I'd just die if that happened, that it would be the absolute worst thing in the world. Guess I underestimated that one, huh?”

“Tell us about the date,” Cara encouraged her.

“It was really nice. We went to dinner uptown at an Italian place in his neighborhood. He knew the maître d' and they treated him like a king. You know the drill, the small table in the back corner, after-dinner drinks on the house, the whole bit. I felt special just being there with him. I think about that night a lot, and I wonder if he was already crooked at that point. I like to think that something was real. At least in the beginning, you know? I like to think that I fell in love with a good man and that he wasn't just playing me. Otherwise my whole relationship was just one big con, right? Just like everything else in his life. Did I imagine
everything
? Is it possible that I was so lonely and desperate for attention at that point that I made our relationship up? Was I just a trophy wife the entire time? Someone to hang off his arm at business functions?”

“Don't even think that,” Meg said. “He was a rich, handsome guy. He could've dated and married a million different girls. He picked you.”

“Maybe he picked me because I was the only one who couldn't see who he really was. Maybe he picked me because I was too stupid to see the truth,” Jane whispered as she began to cry. Crying had never been her thing. She was the one who got angry, the one who yelled and screamed and cursed. Crying was something she did rarely and only in the privacy of her own home, but she couldn't keep the tears at bay. She was just too tired to even try.

“Thinking like that will drive you crazy,” Cara said. “You were vulnerable when you met him, and maybe he preyed on that a little. Who knows? But you're not stupid. Not even close.”

“I can't be sure anymore. I can't be sure of anything anymore. I don't even recognize myself,” Jane said.

Her mind wandered back to the night at Lincoln Center. It was the night she knew that she wanted to marry Doug. It was a night that now haunted her.

March 2005

“Are you excited?” he asked as he removed the tickets from the pocket of his suit jacket. “I'm by no means an expert, but I really like going to the opera every now and then. This is New York, right? It'd be silly to not take advantage of this kind of thing.”

“Very,” she said as they made their way through the plaza and into Lincoln Center. “I've always been curious about it, but I've never had a guy offer to take me before.” She looked up at the massive chandeliers glittering overhead and had to catch her breath.

“You haven't been hanging out with the right guy,” he said with a smile.

No arguments there, Jane thought as she took his arm and let him guide her through the crowds. It was one of only a few times she'd ever had reason to get dressed up to go out on a date, and she'd loved being able to leave her jeans and boots at home. When she'd first moved to Manhattan she'd thought that she'd be like the girls in
Sex and the City
, constantly dressed to the nines and dripping in sequins or feathers to hit the bars on a Tuesday night. She'd quickly realized that the only women running around town dressed like that were either high-priced escorts or Rockettes, and she'd sadly tucked her little black dress away in the back of her closet, where it had stayed for a very long time. But now here she was, all dressed up and heading to the opera, and wondering if maybe there was an entirely different life ahead of her.

“No, I haven't. That's for damn sure,” she said with a wink.

“If you like it we can come back another time and have dinner at the restaurant here. It's really very good and it overlooks the plaza. It's one of those things that you have to do at least once. We can order soufflés before the first act and they'll have them waiting on the table for us during the intermission.”

“It sounds amazing,” she gushed, unsure that she'd ever go on another date that would top this one.

“I think it is. I hope you like it.”

“I already do. I love it.”

He'd led her to their seats, and Jane glanced around the room at the other patrons, all of them sophisticated, well-dressed, and cultured—and she was sitting right there next to them. She might as well have been one of them. She looked over at Doug and it was as if something inside her clicked. Even if she never saw another opera for as long as she lived, she knew she never wanted to date anyone else ever again. It had only been three months, but she knew.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked a few hours later. They exited Lincoln Center and walked a few blocks over to Central Park West. They turned uptown toward his apartment, the music still ringing in her ears and the taste of the wine still on her tongue, and she felt like she was swimming.

“It was amazing. You're right. You'd be crazy to live here and never experience that. I'm blown away by how talented some people are. I'd kill to be able to sing like that,” Jane said, clutching his arm tightly. She never wanted to let him go.

“I've heard you singing in the shower. I think you'd better stick to acting,” Doug joked.

“Hey! Maybe if I had some voice lessons I'd be good. You never know! What would you do if you weren't in finance?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If you had to do another job, what would you do? When you were little, did you want to be a fireman or a fisherman or a cowboy? What did you want to be when you grew up?” she asked, fully expecting him to say something adorable that would help give her some insight into Doug Logan the five-year-old boy.

“I don't know, actually,” he'd said flatly. “I don't think I ever wanted to be anything specifically. I just knew I wanted to be rich.”

Jane laughed. “Really, that was it, huh? So if being an acrobat in the circus meant you'd be rich, that's what you would've wanted to do with your life?”

“Maybe. Lucky for me that wasn't the only option I had. I don't think I'd have liked wearing tights to work every day.”

“No, probably not. That's not very romantic, though, is it? Clearly I didn't want to be an actress for the money or I'd have given up on it by now. It'd be a nice bonus, don't get me wrong, but it's not what I like about it.”

“What do you like about it?” he asked. They slowed so Jane could adjust the strap on her heel.

“I like that I have the chance to be a different person. I like trying to get inside the minds of women from different eras or cultures or walks of life and figure out what it would've been like to live their lives. It's a lot more interesting pretending to be other people than just being me. I'm pretty boring.” She hoped that Doug wouldn't find her silly or flighty. He didn't seem like he was much of a dreamer, and she wasn't sure he was going to understand where she was coming from. A lot of people didn't.

“I don't think so at all. In fact, I think you're one of the most intriguing people I've ever met,” he said, flashing her a smile that immediately put her at ease.

“You do?” They found a bench and sat, watching the traffic barrel up Central Park West and giving Jane's feet a much-needed break.

“I do. I admire you for sticking with your dream for as long as you have. Like you said, a lot of people would've given up on it by now, but you haven't. That tells me you're passionate, and committed. I love that you loved the opera and were really looking forward to experiencing something new, but that you don't need to be wined and dined all the time to be happy. You would've been just as comfortable at home on the couch with a movie. You're grounded. And I love that you had the nerve to call me that first day we met. I was just a random guy in a bar. You didn't know anything about me, but you still called because you're adventurous. I don't know why you think you're boring, but I assure you that that's very far from the truth.”

“That might be the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me. And that includes more than one seedy casting director who tried to get me on his couch. You're a special guy, Doug Logan. I think I knew that the day we met. That's why I called you.”

“I've worked hard for a long time to get where I am. I worked hard in college, then I worked hard in business school, and then I worked hard at my job. And now I finally have most of what I've wanted from my career. The one thing I've never really had time to focus on was my personal life. But then you appeared, and now everything seems to be falling into place. Which is crazy, isn't it? People always told me that that would happen, but I thought it was bullshit. Now I'm beginning to see that it can actually
happen that way. I'm forty and I'm just beginning to realize that you can have everything at the same time. I always thought I'd have to sacrifice one for the other. You make it so easy to not have to choose.”

“Thank you,” Jane said, still swimming in the compliments he'd just given her.

“You've taught me that you can always find a way to get what you want,” he said.

“If you're resourceful and smart, that's probably true,” she agreed.

“And creative. Never underestimate the power of creativity.”

With that he pulled her up from the bench and hailed a cab. They nestled in the backseat and continued uptown, Jane wondering the whole ride how she possibly got so lucky.

Jane's daydream was interrupted when a raindrop fell squarely on her nose. She opened her eyes and saw clouds rolling in overhead, the first bad weather they'd experienced since they'd been at the beach. “I guess it's time to go inside,” she said. She tried very hard to not think about the beginning of her relationship with Doug. For a while she'd gone over every conversation, every minute they'd spent together, trying to figure out whether she could've seen any of this coming. Eventually Jane had accepted that beating herself up for allowing him to fool her wasn't going to get her anywhere. Sure, she had her regrets, probably more than most people, but there was no point in dwelling on them. Somehow she had to find a way to leave it in the past and move on. She just hadn't figured out how to do that yet.

“I'll grab the wine. I'm getting hungry anyway. Jane, you need
to eat something. I don't care if you're not hungry. At least let me make you a snack,” Meg said as she grabbed the bottle off the table and opened the sliding glass door.

“Okay. I guess it won't kill me to have some cheese and crackers. Especially since I'm dead already.”

“Good girl,” Cara said as they got up from the chairs on the deck and headed back inside. “Besides, it's probably going to be nasty for the rest of the night anyway. A nice cozy fire sounds pretty dreamy. Don't you think?”

“Sure. Why not?” Jane answered. “It's Sunday night. What else do we have to do with ourselves?”

An hour later
they sat in the den with a fire roaring and a plate of cheese, crackers, and dried apricots on the coffee table in front of them. “You know what the crazy thing is?” Jane asked.

“There's only one thing? Really?” Cara teased.

“That he didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth from the beginning. The whole time he was doing whatever it was he was doing he never told me about it. Why do you think that is?”

“That's kind of a hard conversation to have with your wife,” Cara offered. “Don't get me wrong, I agree with you. He should never have allowed you to be blindsided the way you were. But what was he supposed to say? ‘Hi, honey, I'm home, and by the way I'm going to jail for fraud'? He probably didn't want to admit it to himself.”

“Maybe he didn't want to hurt you,” Meg suggested. “Maybe he was hoping he'd find a way out.”

“But I'm his wife. We're supposed to tell each other everything.”

“You didn't tell him you didn't want the boobs,” Cara said.

“It's not exactly the same thing.”

“No, but maybe he was hoping he'd be able to protect you or something. Maybe he thought what you didn't know couldn't hurt you.”

“Well, he did hurt me. He hurt me more than I ever would've thought possible. I didn't get out of bed for more than a week after this whole mess became public. I thought I was in a loving marriage with a guy who was maybe a little superficial, but so what? I thought he loved me. I thought we wanted the same things out of life, and I thought he had scruples. I really did.”