This One Is Mine: A Novel (26 page)

Violet pushed open the heavy door. “Hi, sweetie. Sorry to bother you.”

“Of course not!” David gave her a hug and held the door open with his foot. “Kara, you’ve never met the beautiful Ultraviolet herself.”

“I have just now, Mr. Parry,” said Kara. “I mean, we’ve talked on the phone. And I
feel
like we’ve met —”

“Hold my calls,” David said, and let the door close. He took Violet’s hand. “I’m glad to see you. What’s the good word?”

The office had been the same for ten years. Shelves crammed with books, stacks of CDs everywhere. Good, not great stereo. Violet had resisted the wifely urge to storm in, decorator in tow, and put her stamp on his domain. Like her husband, the office was what it was: no airs, all business.

“I came upon something that might intrigue you,” she said.

“I’m listening.”

“You know behind the Four Oaks, where that preschool is? Well, there’s a lot for sale that overlooks Stone Canyon Reservoir.”

“Okay . . .” David said.

“Not high above it like we are now. Just thirty feet above the water. There’s not another house in sight.”

“Are we in the market for a new house?” he asked.

“I was driving by and I saw the sign. Ten acres for one point nine.”

“How much is buildable?”

“About an acre. It’s the old George Harrison estate.”

“Really.” David blinked, big.

“You have that book here, don’t you?” Violet went to the bookshelf. “Remember, we were looking at that picture, wondering where it was, and I asked Barbara Bach about it?” David pulled out the Linda McCartney book. “That’s it!” Violet found the photograph of George Harrison sitting in a bay window. He had scruffy clothes and long hair, so youthful and at peace. Behind him were pine trees and a body of water.

David studied the photograph. “That
is
Stone Canyon,” he said. “We can see that curve from the bathroom. Son of a gun.”

“Isn’t that wild? There’s no house there now. Just the foundation. The city would probably make us build within the footprint.”

“So we’re buying the land?”

“It seems to happen any time I stop by,” Violet said. “Maybe next time you won’t be so pleased to see me.”

On his desk was a framed picture of Violet and David holding Dot. They had been on vacation in Lake Tahoe. Violet was smiling so hard her face looked like a fun-house distortion of happiness. Was there really a time when standing in the snow with David and Dot could have made her so happy? That was the last weekend in January. She had met Teddy on February 1, a Tuesday. Little did she know when this picture was taken that just three days later, she would desecrate a good life. Of all that Teddy had absconded with, that was the cruelest. Worse than her self-worth — he could have that! — he had robbed her of any proclivity to find joy in life’s simple pleasures.

“You keep saying fixing up the Neutra house almost killed you,” David said.

“I know.”

“One question. Why isn’t this that definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?” David studied her. He was direct. He was even. But he was saying something Violet didn’t want to hear, and this is what made him seem like an asshole. It wasn’t fair, but Violet understood the reputation.

“I know what you mean,” she conceded.

“I’m amenable to it,” said David. “We have the dough. If every five years you fix up a house, there are worse vices in the world. I just need to know
you’ve
thought it through.” The phone rang. One of David’s rules was to never go home without returning every call, which often meant staying in the office until late in the evening. Knowing the exigencies were piling up in the outer office made Violet anxious. “Don’t worry about the phones,” David said. He ran his finger along the grass bracelet around his wrist. “Do
you
understand why you want to do this?”

Violet’s heart skipped. For the first time, it occurred to her that David knew about Teddy. He sees it all, thought Violet. My ecstasy, my shame, my madness. It was so obvious that she feared she might explode in laughter. What else would explain the queer expansiveness that had befallen David since the yoga retreat? Was it part of a twisted game? Was he waiting to pounce? Would the dreaded confrontation happen here, now? Violet had rehearsed for this moment. “I fell in love,” she would say, “or thought I did.” “With whom?” he’d want to know. “A musician, no one you’ve heard of. It’s over now.” Violet wouldn’t attempt to gainsay any of her husband’s accusations. How could she possibly defend her swath of destruction?
Nostalgie de la boue
run amok? Sure, David had lost his temper every now and then, but that surely didn’t justify Violet’s going off and fucking someone with hep C and trying — unsuccessfully! — to buy his affections with David’s money. “It’s not your fault,” she would tell her husband. “It’s all on me. I went crazy or something. I developed a frantic attachment to the first person who showed some interest. I know how feeble that sounds, but I don’t know how else to put it. I love you, and I want our family to work. If you don’t, I understand. But please know I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

The glass door opened. Kara entered. “I’m sorry —”

“I’m talking to my wife,” David said.

“It’s just — I finally tracked down Yuri. He’s on his cell phone for the next ten minutes and then he’s getting on a plane —”

“Take it, take it, take it,” Violet said.

“I’m talking to my wife,” David repeated to Kara. She slunk away and shut the door, trapping Violet in the phantasmagoria that David’s office had become.

“So?” he asked. “Do you know
why
you want to buy this land? Yes or no.”

“Yes, yeah,” Violet stammered. “I do.”

“Okay, then.” David had chosen to spare her. She could breathe again. “Do you want me to call the broker and get into it?” he asked.

“I know what to do.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” he said.

Violet laughed. David was her salvation. Love would come. “You keep saving me, David.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” said Violet.

“Yeah,” he said. “Paul McCartney. Oh! I got us the fresh hookup.” It was something that had always endeared David to her. He was an accountant by nature, yet used phrases like “fresh hookup” with perfect ease. “If we go back before the show, Paul will take a picture with Dot.”

“You’re kidding!”

“LadyGo can bring her over for the photo op, then take her home. She’ll be going to bed late, but it’s worth it for a picture with a Beatle, am I right?”

“I love you, David.”

“I know that. And I love you.”

“I don’t know why sometimes. But thank you.”

“I knew you were complicated from the start,” he said. “You announced as much when you wanted that song sung at the wedding.”

Violet cringed. He was referring to Stephen Sondheim’s “Sorry-Grateful,” from
Company
. It was what she had been listening to on her Walkman outside the movie theater that day, so she always considered it “their song.” Violet had asked Def Leppard to play it at the wedding. When the band saw the lyrics, they checked with David. He confronted Violet and she quickly withdrew the request.

“That’s the best thing Def Leppard ever did,” she said now. “
Not
sing that song. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Violet was shaky as she walked out of David’s office and down the hallway. She took Gwen Gold’s card out of her pocket, then remembered she didn’t have her cell phone. She opened the door to the conference room.

A couple of interns unpacked the day’s lunch.
MR. CHOW
, the thick glossy bags read.

“I need to use the phone,” Violet said. “I’m David’s wife.” Neither reacted. They wouldn’t get far in the business. She reached for the phone. Her fingers dialed a number.

310-555-0199.

“Hello?” It was Teddy.

“Happy birthday.” Violet panted like a sick animal. With dead eyes, she gazed at the rubber band on her wrist. GO, it said.

“I knew you’d remember,” he said. “You looking for that ride to the airport?”

CHAPTER TEN

Nam My
h
Renge Ky
  
   The Bridal Suite

Everything Is Okay   
   He Wants to Call Off the Wedding

The Cupcake Tower   
   The Score   
   404