Trading Up (42 page)

“When are we going to Aspen?” Georgie asked, as if he couldn’t wait to get away.

“You know when we’re going, Georgie,” George said. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Are we taking the Lear?” Georgie asked.

“Yes,” Mimi said.

“Why can’t we take the G5?” Georgie demanded.

“Because it’s too big to land in Aspen,” George said. “You know that.”

“I do?” Georgie asked.

I can’t believe this is my life, Mimi nearly said aloud.

Jack sat down at the table, hoisting himself up onto an eighteenth-century Chippendale chair (worth about $15,000, Mimi thought, unable to help herself ), and folded his legs under him. He took a bite of the toast spread with marmalade, chewed thoughtfully a few times, and then squinched up his face in horror and spat the half-chewed mess onto the Sevres china plate in front of him.

Mimi looked to George for help. “Jack!” George roared. Jack jumped as if shot out of a cannon and fell off his chair.

“Sit down, Jack,” George insisted.

Jack looked at him defiantly. “No . . . ,” he said.

“Then go to your room.”

“Gerda,” Mimi called. Gerda appeared in the doorway and Mimi motioned for her to take away Jack’s plate.

“I hate my room!” Jack cried. “It’s too small . . .” He was really being a brat, Mimi thought, praying he wouldn’t be like this in Aspen. If he was, she had a feeling that she was finally going to lose it . . .

“Well, the next time you come to New York, you’ll have a new room,” George said, as if this would solve everyone’s problem. “Mommy and Daddy have bought a new apartment . . .”

“Are you and Mommy getting back together?” Georgie asked in surprise. He looked from George to Mimi with an evil expression on his face.

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“This mommy,” George said. “Mimi Mommy.”

Jack began shaking his head, muttering to himself. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he said, in a strange voice that almost sounded as if he were attempting to imitate an adult. “How many times do I have to tell you . . . that she is
not
our mommy!”

Mimi looked at him in shock, and suddenly burst into tears.

Five hours later, at exactly one-thirty, Mimi was seated in the best booth in Dingo’s, nervously waiting for Janey to arrive. The morning’s events had thrown her off; it bothered her enormously to have appeared weak and vulnerable in front of George’s children. Naturally, George had made both boys apologize, but in that vicious way that children had, they managed to do it without appearing the least bit contrite . . .

She took a sip of water, glancing about at the crowd. There was a famous fashion-magazine editor in the booth next to hers, eating a bloody steak; on the other side was a well-known local newscaster. But she must be getting jaded, she thought wearily, because the crowd already looked tired, like a second-string cast brought in to play the Wednesday matinee of a Broadway show. How much longer would she have to do this? she wondered. Would anything new ever happen to her again . . .

or was it to be this way for the rest of her life, the same dreary rounds of parties and committees and socializing, the same faces getting older or more pulled . . . ?

She idly picked up the menu, trying to distract herself from these negative thoughts. Everything was fine, everything was normal, and she had a wonderful life, she reassured herself. It was just that ever since Zizi had broken up with her, she’d been so ridiculously
emotional
. Little things that had never bothered her before suddenly seemed hugely important, causing a completely inappropriate response—like the way she had yelled at Gerda the other day for leaving a dust cloth behind one of the curtains in the living room. Gerda had looked at her like she was insane, and, of course, she’d apologized, but then Gerda had had the temerity to suggest that perhaps it was “the change.” She put her hands over her face. Was it really possible, then, that she was beginning to go through
menopause
? She was only forty-two, but everyone knew these things could happen, and if it
was
true, it would certainly be a fitting ending to her affair with Zizi. She would be officially dried up, and then
no
man would want her for sex; the plus would be that she’d never have to worry about finding herself in a situation like the one she’d been in with Zizi . . .

A waiter asked her if she wanted anything to drink, and she ordered a glass of champagne. She reminded herself that she’d known all along the affair would have to end; it was just that she hadn’t expected to feel such a loss when it did. Perhaps it 18947_ch01.qxd 4/14/03 11:24 PM Page 224

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was the fact that Zizi was gone so suddenly: If she hadn’t fainted, she might have made up an excuse to get away from George to find him; and if George hadn’t insisted on calling the doctor, who had given her a sedative so strong that she had slept until five the next day, she probably would have gone to his apartment. By the time she’d recovered, it was too late—she imagined he was already on the plane to Europe—and she was left feeling like her insides had been cut out . . .

Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much she’d relied on him to make her life better. He was a valve, an outlet that allowed her to blithely continue on with her marriage, allowing her to pretend that there was nothing missing from her life. Zizi had provided the kind of pure love and affection that’s free of pretense and is such an astonishment to young people who experience it for the first time. And she
had
been in love with him—and at a time in her life when she thought she’d never be in love again, when she’d thought those feelings were gone forever.

The waiter placed a glass of champagne in front of her, and she took a sip, hoping that it would lift her spirits. But the bubbles felt harsh against the back of her throat, and she was suddenly hit with another wave of nausea. She put the glass down and held her napkin to her lips, praying that she wouldn’t be sick. But so far, these waves of nausea hadn’t actually made her throw up . . . She had to get a hold of herself, she thought angrily. Aspen would help—and hadn’t her mother always said that a change of scenery was the best thing for a broken heart?

She sat back against the pink suede banquette, tempted to dip her napkin in her water glass and place the cool cloth on her forehead; but knowing the gesture was too obvious and too dramatic, she looked at her watch instead. Janey was ten minutes late—normally, she would have been slightly irritated to be kept waiting, but on this afternoon, she knew she had to let it pass. Her recent thoughts about Janey had been too harsh. After all, it wasn’t
Janey’s
fault that Zizi had broken up with her, and the issue about the apartment was simply coincidence—Patty had been on tour with Digger in Europe, so how was Janey to know they’d reconciled?

Mimi had come to these realizations that morning as she’d sat sobbing in her dressing room. She’d finally accepted that she desperately needed to talk to someone about her situation, and that person was probably Janey. Mimi began to remind herself of the good points of her friend’s character: Although Janey could be arrogant and full of herself, and at times seemed to think she was entitled to everything, wasn’t that simply the result of being young—of being thirty-three and feeling like you still had your whole life ahead of you? Mimi was quite sure she hadn’t been much better at Janey’s age, and she believed that Janey had a good heart . . . She could
trust
Janey: Janey had been there at the beginning of the affair; she’d been loyal and kept her mouth shut; and she
knew
Zizi—at least a little. And Janey had certainly had her share of man troubles . . . Janey would
understand
. . . And so she 18947_ch01.qxd 4/14/03 11:24 PM Page 225

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had called Janey to ask her to lunch, and frankly, she’d been relieved when Janey had accepted in her usual spirit of friendliness, as if Mimi hadn’t snapped at her at all last night . . .

“Hi darling,” Janey purred, leaning over to kiss her. Mimi was startled—she must have been so engrossed in her own thoughts, she hadn’t seen her come in.

Janey looked particularly beautiful today, Mimi noted. Her face glowed with animation, as if she were lit from within. She always looked lovely, Mimi thought, but like most women, she was at her best when she was happy. “You’re in a good mood,” Mimi ventured.

“Oh, only because of the show,” Janey said casually, sliding into the banquette.

She’d been relieved to get Mimi’s call as well that morning; she hadn’t spoken to Mimi for days and suddenly realized that she missed her friend terribly. But Mimi looked so . . .
morose,
Janey thought, immediately wishing that Mimi would lighten up. Tomorrow was the Saturday of Christmas week and everyone was leaving town, so this lunch at Dingo’s was the last opportunity to see and be seen, and she meant to make the most of it. “The show got tons of coverage,” Janey drawled, in a voice that was just loud enough to draw attention to herself, “and it was a bit scandalous, so of course, everyone’s talking about it . . .”

“Is it scandalous?” Mimi asked, raising her eyebrows.

“You know,” Janey said. “It was on network TV, and the Republican right is in an uproar . . . They want to control the way everyone thinks . . .” She caught the expression on Mimi’s face and added, “Not
your
father, of course . . .”

“Of course,” Mimi said. Her father had just been appointed secretary of com-merce under the new Republican regime.

“Oh, Mimi . . . How
are
you?” Janey asked, having decided that by now everyone in the restaurant knew she was there, and she could at last focus on her friend.

Mimi shrugged and played with her water glass. “Do you know where Selden’s taking you for Christmas yet?”

Janey shook her head and ordered a vodka on the rocks with a twist of lemon.

That little awkwardness between herself and Mimi was still there, but here was an opportunity to get the source of the rift out in the open. “Selden and his surprises!” she exclaimed, as if outraged. “It’s beginning to drive me crazy . . . Do you know that he never even
told
me he was going to hire a private detective?”

“Selden hired a private detective?” Mimi asked.

“Didn’t you
know
?” Janey said. “He hired a private detective to investigate Maribelle Dubrovsky or whatever her name is, and the detective found out that she’s married. That’s why Patty and Digger are back together . . .”

“But were they ever really apart?” Mimi asked.

“Patty
said
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to leave him when they got home,” Janey said, brushing her long hair over her shoulder. Naturally, Patty had never said any such thing, but Janey knew Mimi would never question it. “And
then,
” Janey went on dramatically, as if to add heft to the veracity of her story, “Patty got the phone call from Selden.” This part, at least,
was
true, and Janey smiled innocently. “I’m really sorry I didn’t let you know sooner, but every time I tried to call, you were busy with the boys . . .”

“I
know,
” Mimi said emphatically, feeling slightly guilty. Having now heard the whole story, she realized how silly she’d been in thinking that Janey had somehow wanted to wound her. “It’s just that the house is always in chaos when the boys are there . . .”

“Of course, now that Patty’s with Digger, Zizi can stay . . . ,” Janey said. Saying the name Zizi felt like eating a spoonful of dirt, and she hoped Mimi hadn’t noticed . . .

“Oh, it doesn’t matter anymore,” Mimi said with a shrug. She took a sip of water, not daring to trust the champagne. “Zizi and I broke up,” she said. And with a short, husky laugh, added, “Or, to put it more accurately,
he
dumped
me
.” Janey returned to the Lowell Hotel two hours later, still reeling from the news of the affair’s demise. Naturally, as Mimi quietly relayed her sad tale, revealing how much she’d loved Zizi and how unbearable it was to be without him, Janey was a model of sympathy. She kindly pointed out that Zizi was bound to end it sooner or later, that she’d heard he was out with other (younger) women, that he’d obviously only been after her money and was probably trying to use her to get ahead, and, of course, the old standby: That it was better it should end
now,
while Mimi still had some shreds of dignity left, before she was
really
hurt . . .

But inside, her thoughts were far less charitable. She would hardly have been human if it didn’t cross her mind just once or twice that maybe Mimi
deserved
this for having taken Zizi away from
her
last summer . . . and that she’d been right about Zizi all along. And who could blame her for thinking that, somehow, her encounter with Zizi had caused this, and how clever she was to have engineered it. For a moment, she thought about telling Mimi that Zizi had come on to her, but then she thought better of it. She couldn’t help thinking that it was entirely possible that maybe Zizi had broken up with Mimi because he secretly wanted to be with
her
. . .

“Why, Selden darling, you’re home,” Janey exclaimed as she entered the suite and found Selden packing his things in the living room. “What are you doing home so early, darling?” she asked, kissing him on the lips.

“Packing,” he said. She was in a good mood, he could tell, and that made him happy.

“But we’re not leaving until tomorrow morning,” she pointed out.

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“At seven a.m.,” he said. He went into the bedroom to look for some socks; she followed him.

“I hate getting up so
early,
” she said, with the petulance of a child.

“But we’ll be on the beach by noon,” Selden said. “Won’t that be nice?”