Wellesley Wives (New England Trilogy) (18 page)

“Do you think they’ll lose it?”

“Yep.”

“What about Sandra in The Celtic Crowne?”

He shook his head. “It’ll have to go.”

“Can’t you fight? You and Dad?”

“What the hell do you think we’ve been doing for the last six months? Jesus, when things are good, the women are happy and ask no questions, but as soon as things go bad, it’s ‘what are you going to do about it?’ Christ, I’ve tried everything I can think of.”

He looked desperate, so she tried to be strong. She still had her job, her car, her apartment. “We’re going to be fine, Jack. I can support us. There may not be any private jets for a while, but we can slum it on the commercial airlines.”

“Lily, I don’t want to upset you, but do you own this apartment or does your dad?”

“I do.” She was glad for the distraction when the microwave pinged.

“Do you have a mortgage on it in your name? Or, if not, do you have the deeds?”

She didn’t look at him because she was sliding the dinners out of their plastic casings and onto her Vera Wang dinner plates. Lily had wanted to have a romantic homemade dinner for their first meal together, but the day had just run away from her, and then there was the traffic and the trauma hanging over her at the moment. “I don’t have a mortgage. This place was a gift from my parents when I graduated college. I assume Dad has the deeds somewhere.”

“You’ll need to check that out,” Jack spoke softly.

“You don’t think this place could be wrapped up in his portfolio, too, do you?”

Jack didn’t answer, which told her all she needed to know.

Chapter 15 

Sandra

Even seeing Sven’s fine physique at the gym Tuesday morning didn’t cheer Sandra up. When he tried to catch her eye, she looked away. She knew she could have him if she wanted. Attracting guys had never been a problem for her, but keeping them seemed to be quite another matter. 

    Usually she had earbuds in because fast-music thumping made her push herself. It also meant she was difficult to approach. But today, in her misery, she’d forgotten them and her bottle of water.

She avoided the treadmill near Sven, fearful he might try to strike up a conversation. When he moved on to the weights, she stayed on the stair stepper. Sandra climbed faster, farther, and for longer than usual. She thought if she worked herself harder, punished herself, maybe, just maybe she could be distracted for a moment—for even a second. Was it possible to forget she was alone again? She’d been dumped, like an old dishwasher. Replaced by the newer, younger model.

Of course, this happened all the time. Damn it, she’d even seen it done to Jack’s last wife, but at least Olga got a big house in New Jersey. She got the art collection and the ponies, but best of all, she got the kids. Sandra was the one who’d lost most because she’d given Jack her best years.

And what did she have to show for it? A nice collection of diamonds, furs, and some now-bitter memories. Even the good experiences were tarnished because they were with the man who was having fun with another woman at the same time. She still couldn’t quite fathom it. What really shocked her was the thought that if he crawled back now and apologized, she might take him back. She didn’t know how to stand on her own two feet anymore.

It was odd how everybody thought she was so strong, but it was all show. She was fragile, she just knew how to hide it. Large cars, diamonds, and penthouses could cover a lot of insecurity.

“I think you’re going to wear that machine out.” Sven’s voice was warm and friendly. Sandra hadn’t seen him approach. She was too caught up in her own miserable world. She was a good eighteen inches over his head because she was up high on the stepping machine, so she looked down on him.

“Oh, you know, work hard, play hard. That’s my motto.”

“Well, you’re certainly working that machine pretty hard. Did you have a good day on Sunday?” He smiled and put his hand on the machine. “That was when I last saw you.”

A lifetime ago, she thought. Since then my husband has walked out on me. His business has gone under, and my best friend’s daughter has shacked up with the only man I’ve ever loved.

“It’s been busy,” she said.

“Still no time to take me around some of your beautiful sights?”

Sandra couldn’t believe it. Of all the days and all the gyms, this guy was hitting on her even though he knew she was married. The anger had to go somewhere. All her frustration needed a vent. This guy had picked the wrong woman to cross on the wrong day.

“Are you asking me out?” she asked, keeping her voice pleasant.

He shrugged and gave a not unattractive
guilty as charged
sort of grin.

“And you know I’m married?” She had to be sure that she had it right.

This time he winced a little but again kept grinning at her.

“There aren’t enough single girls out there for you to prey upon?” She could feel her temper climbing. “You felt the need to come to Wellesley and destroy a perfectly happy marriage?” Sandra got off the machine. She was five-foot-eight, but he stood a good five inches over her. Her hair was up in a tight ponytail and today she was in a pair of aqua blue running shorts and a matching top. She wore no makeup. It hadn’t been high on her priority list that morning, so she knew she didn’t look her best, but that didn’t matter.

“You know, it’s guys like you that have the world in the mess it’s in.”

From the look on his face, Sandra could tell Sven was beginning to realize that this conversation was not going to be as pleasant as their previous one.

“Okay. Sorry.” He tried to back off.

“No, actually, it’s not okay. It’s not okay at all. If your kind kept your nosy little peckers out of healthy marriages, I think a great deal more couples would survive. It’s people like you—”

Sven turned and walked away. She guessed he wasn’t going to stand there and listen to her berate him. Pity, she thought. It felt good to let him have it. Jerk.

How did Popsy get such a good guy? How did you know a good man from a bad one? Of course, Sandra had known from the beginning Jack had a pretty bad track record.

She tried to get back on the machine, but the flood of adrenaline had subsided. Plus, she’d lost the urge to climb a thousand steps and get nowhere. She went over to the weights and concentrated on her crunches. Looking at herself in the mirror, Sandra thought she looked good, even as the jilted wife. Of course, she didn’t look twenty anymore, but still.

She would have to get back out into the world at some point, but how would she ever trust a man again? All the good guys were surely taken by the time they were fifty. She would either have to find another man on his second marriage or some total loser who hadn’t been snatched up for some reason. She wondered which category Sven fit into when it hit her there was a third category: widowers. Women usually outlived their husbands, but there had to be a select few where this wasn’t the case.

Maybe I’ll check out the death notices, she thought miserably.

How low had she fallen and how fast, she realized, losing all desire to be in the gym.

If Sandra didn’t get out and find some purpose for her day, it was possible she would hit the white wine by mid-afternoon. Worse than that, she might have a cigarette. It had been the toughest battle of her life—well, up until now. Sandra was furious with herself for starting again. No excuse was a good enough one to smoke, not even a breakup.

Mercifully, by lunchtime the weather was fabulous. It was pretty warm for the last week in October, which was unusual. The Halloween decorations the hotel had erected in the main foyer seemed incongruous with the blue skies and high temperatures outside. Sandra decided to walk into town to buy some magazines. The sunlight would do her good.

There were a number of ways to get to town, and she didn’t consciously make the decision, but she wound up walking past Popsy’s house just as a car was being delivered. Already some passersby had stopped to see the flashy fire-engine-red Ferrari get offloaded from the tow truck. Popsy was coming out of the house as Sandra approached.

“What’s this?” she asked her old friend.

“Sandra, thank goodness you’re here. Oh my God, I never thought this would arrive now. Not after, well, all that’s happened.”

“Birthday present?” Sandra whispered to which Popsy nodded, looking guilty.

“But not now. Well, I just assumed that it wouldn’t arrive. Surely the car dealers know.”

“Maybe Peter paid in cash?” Sandra said quietly, not wanting to be overheard by the onlookers.

This was possible because the men often “lost” cash profits by buying diamonds and going on vacations, but Sandra thought it was unlikely for a tangible asset like a car.

The guys worked fast unloading the Ferrari and polishing it up one more time. Then they got Popsy to sign a ream of forms and take possession of two sets of keys. Once they were gone, it was just her and Popsy with the onlookers and a half a million dollars’ worth of metal.

Soon enough, the envious onlookers wandered off, but Sandra knew the last thing her friend felt was enviable.

“What are you going to do with the Merc?” she asked mischievously.

Popsy looked at her old friend and giggled. “Jeez, Sandra, life is just so crazy right now, but I have to tell you, it feels less so with you here.”

Their relationship seemed to be fragile but alive, considering what it had been through in the last couple of days.

Popsy continued, “I have no idea what I’m going to do. Sell it, I guess. I’ll wait till Peter is out of the hospital and ask him. I have no idea where the title is.”

She took a walk around the Ferrari. “You don’t think this is a bit too flashy, do you?”

Sandra laughed. “Darling, you know you can never be too rich or too thin. If you have it, flaunt it. That’s what I say.”

“Yes, but that’s just the point. I don’t think we have it anymore,” Popsy whispered as she came back to Sandra.

“Don’t worry about that now. Look,” she said and gestured toward the car and then the sky, “it’s a fantastic day, we’re in the best of health, and we have a shiny new red Ferrari. Does it get better than this?”

“So, not too flashy?”

Sandra pretended to look frustrated. “Flashy is fabulous. Come on, sugar. Where are you taking me on our maiden journey?”

“What the heck, I’m celebrating.” Popsy smiled. “Peter got the results back yesterday from his angiogram, and he’s all clear. No blockages. That means no surgery.”

Sandra bear-hugged her. “Oh, Popsy, that’s the best news I’ve heard all week. Peter’s going to be just fine. Didn’t I tell you he would be?”

“You know, you’re right. I’m going to nip inside to get my jacket and sunglasses.” She headed for the house but then turned back suddenly. “Here, catch,” Popsy said and threw the keys to her. “Why don’t you start her up and put the roof down?”

It wasn’t exactly how Sandra had seen her day panning out, but it was a lot of fun and even though she was nervous at first, Popsy insisted she was a great driver, and the car was insured. They drove down Route 9, enjoying the fall sunshine while they played with all the buttons and chatted about how complicated their lives had become.

Popsy filled Sandra in on how Peter wasn’t allowed a phone, iPad, computer, or anything else he could use to do work, and she was nervous this was enough to induce another heart attack. She said she was going to see him later that day and get the test results regarding what caused the attack.

Popsy also talked about Lily and admitted that she hadn’t spoken to her yet because she was furious with her. Sandra didn’t say it, but she took enormous solace from that small piece of information. It meant that Popsy really was in her corner, which was a huge relief.

She rubbed Popsy’s shoulder and filled her in on her adventures in the gym with Sven, and she added that she hadn’t had any contact with Jack.

On their way home, they popped into The Cheesecake Factory in the Natick shopping mall to have a coffee and some cheesecake. They were able to linger, admiring all the home goods and kitchen accessories. There was a sports store that Sandra loved because she was always looking for nice new gym clothes, and Popsy was consumed with the Disney Store full of pink princess outfits and toys for Natasha.

She was already pretty well-known in the store because she spent so much money there. Today was no exception. She bought a new princess dress, a candy-pink nightgown with matching slippers, and a tiara, but she decided she couldn’t leave the matching pink throne behind. Since she had her hands full, she forfeited the wand. This was plenty for one day.

Just as everything was getting gift-wrapped, Sandra appeared beside her. “How are you doing?” she asked.

“Great,” Popsy said. It was nice to be out with her best friend again and not thinking about Peter or her daughter. Without even looking at the total, Popsy handed over her platinum piece of plastic. The sales assistant swiped it, frowned, then swiped it again. She glanced at Popsy. “I’m sorry your card has been declined.”

“Oh,” Popsy felt the panic rising, but having Sandra by her side calmed her.

“Your card was declined?” she asked.

“You don’t think that this is—”

“No, no way, Popsy. Far too soon. That wouldn’t be for weeks or months.”

Popsy wanted to believe her but couldn’t help wondering if this was the beginning of their personal credit crunch—the implosion of their lives. Peter had told her about friends who’d filed for Chapter 11, and she knew it was a very painful process. She thought it didn’t affect things like private bank accounts for months, if ever. It all depended on how it played out, but it wouldn’t hit her yet, right?

“Here I have cash,” Sandra said and took three hundred dollar bills from her purse and handed them to the cashier.

Popsy was grateful but surprised. When they were walking back out to the car, laden down with all of her goodies, she quizzed Sandra. “Thanks a million for bailing me out in there. I don’t carry that much cash on me. I didn’t know you did, either. Is it safe?”