Wellesley Wives (New England Trilogy) (24 page)

That little skank. How could she? How selfish and shortsighted. Did she not realize that Jack would leave her in the end, too? It was just a question of time. To have one ex-wife was unfortunate, but not too unusual. Two ex-wives, and there was a very definite pattern forming. He liked to trade in the older models for newer ones when the time came.

It was now obvious to her that Jack had the morals of a sewer rat. No—that was doing a disservice to sewer rats. Jack was even lower. It was easier to be angry with him instead of feeling heartbroken. Sorrow was much worse than anger. If she was being honest with herself, she also had to concede that she’d been thinking of leaving Jack prior to his walking out. Hadn’t she said as much to Popsy? The difference was that she probably would have stayed in an unhappy marriage, while he was content to move up and on. Then, of course, there was the other conversation Sandra had had with Popsy. Had she really been considering getting pregnant without telling him? What sort of person did that make her? How underhanded would that have been? What in the world had she been thinking? Maybe he was better off without her.

Was this what Karma was all about? She had been a bad person and now the bad luck had returned onto her. She had nothing—no money, no baby, no husband, and what about Jack? The shit! He had his next recruit—his next victim—ready to go. Little Lily Power. Poor, girl, she had no idea yet how unlucky she was.

What would I do with the rest of my life? she wondered, feeling the panic rising.

Sandra increased the speed on the treadmill. Well, she wasn’t going to mope or waste any of her precious time with regrets. She decided there and then that her next ten years were going to be the best of her life and not a moment was to be wasted. She was still young and fit, and she would find another lover, if and when she wanted one. Nothing was stopping her. If she wanted a baby, she could do it on her own now. At least a child might hang around for a couple of decades.

Sandra couldn’t maintain the high speed, so she pulled it back a little.

Babies cost a fortune, and along with her husband, she’d lost wealth, too. How could she possibly consider having a baby when she had no means of supporting it? And that was assuming she was even capable of conceiving.

She’d tried to withdraw more cash, but she was told the accounts had been frozen. That’s when she realized Jack had been serious about their financial troubles. She was already getting legal advice, but this discovery made her accountant less than optimistic. How could you take a man for everything when he had nothing? Still, that wouldn’t stop her from fighting tooth-and-nail for the penthouse, the place in Boca, and all their art and cars. She was going to take whatever was left. Poor Lily, she thought again. At least Sandra got a rich forty-year-old with whom to spend the last fifteen years, while Lily was shacking up with a fifty-five-year-old broke guy. Fool.

How was Popsy going to live with the new situation? Sandra knew her closest friend had big hopes and dreams for her daughter. Of course, she wanted Lily to marry a nice, normal guy her age and give her lots of little babies to play with. Well, that plan was shattered. On top of that, Popsy and Peter had lost all their money.

She brought the treadmill back to a walk. Her blood was pumping, and she was breathing hard. She needed to slow down.

As her pace softened, so did her venom. It was impossible not to regret the end of her marriage. Wasn’t it fair to say they’d both been unhappy? Perhaps for different reasons, but still unhappy. He wouldn’t give her the only thing she wanted: a baby. And she couldn’t give him the one thing he wanted: her eternal youth. Which of them was being the more ridiculous? Jack would someday have to accept that he was getting older and no amount of younger women would change that, and she would have to accept that she wasn’t going to be a mom. Not unless she did something about it soon.

As if on cue, Sven walked in. He spotted her and nodded politely. She hopped off the treadmill and went over to him.

“Sven, I’m sorry,” she started, hoping that he would be the type of who took apologies easily and moved on. He looked at her with a face clouded in reservation. Guess not.

“Look. I was over-the-top with you the other day. I said a few things. I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself.” She glanced up and was happy to see that his scowl was gone and he was listening to her. “The truth is, I’ve been having some personal problems and I lashed out at you, well, because you were there. So, I’m sorry.”

He smiled. “Apology accepted.”

“Phew. So no hard feelings?”

He shook his head.

“You know, I could give you that tour of Boston if you like, just to make things good between us.” This was way beyond where Sandra had planned to go. It just slipped out. She couldn’t believe she’d said it, but then again, she couldn’t believe she was single again.

Sven looked confused. “But what about your husband?”

Her face fell. “Those were the personal problems I was telling you about. It turns out he doesn’t want to be my husband anymore. He’s now living with his new girlfriend.”

“Oh,” he said. “I’m very sorry for you.”

The thing Sandra couldn’t handle was sympathy. She put up her hand. “No, no. Looking back now, I have to say it’s been coming for a while. I’m sorry it’s happened, but maybe it will be for the best in the long run.”

“Well, speaking of running . . .” He gestured at the treadmills behind her. Sandra realized she’d embarrassed him with too much personal information. He was anxious to get away from her.

“Oh, yes. Well, I’m glad we cleared that up anyway.” She turned to leave.

“Sandra,” he said, and she turned around. “You’ll need to call me for that sightseeing trip.” He pulled his wallet out and quickly found his business cards, then gave her a warm smile. It wasn’t flirtatious, nor was it predatory. It was just friendly. “I would still love you to give me a tour of Boston or Wellesley or both if you’re up to it. But I know you have a lot on your mind right now.” He handed her the business card. “I’ve been through the same thing. Try to get up and out as much as you can. Focus on having fun, and if I can help you there, it would be an honor.” This time he did flirt. She felt a definite frisson of excitement as she took his card.

“Thanks, Sven. How much longer are you here for?”

“I fly out on Sunday. Back to Dublin.”

“Well, maybe I’ll show you Boston if you show me Dublin sometime?” she said, but didn’t mention that she had plans to visit. That would surely scare the guy.

He threw his head back and guffawed, and she could see his full set of upper teeth. At least they were straight and white, and by the looks of things, his own. “Maybe.”

Maybe, she thought.

After a quick shower and change, Sandra headed over to Popsy’s house. She was determined to give her friend her belated birthday present before another day passed. She’d bought two airplane tickets combined with a hotel package for Ireland. They were changeable, but she really didn’t want to start messing with the dates because that was always complicated. February was still a few months away. With this much notice, Popsy would be able to clear her schedule. Perhaps it would all work out.

It was a short drive from her apartment, but it did give Sandra a little time to think. How would they survive if Lily and Jack really did stay together? Would he want to marry Lily? If so, would Popsy and Peter go to the wedding? That would make Peter Jack’s father-in-law. It was all so wrong.

Stay strong, she commanded herself as she drove. She turned her stereo on and pumped up the volume to give her strength. Rhianna was belting out one of her older songs, 

“Hard.” At first Sandra didn’t recognize it.

The lyrics thumped on about being strong, and it gave Sandra all the reminding she needed. She was strong. “I am, I can,” she chanted. It was something she’d learned from her mother a million years before. “I am, I can,” she shouted even louder, feeling a whole lot better.

When she got to Popsy’s house, she saw the Ferrari wasn’t there, so that meant Peter was still out. Poor Popsy. She would doubtless be a nervous wreck by now. Her best friend was as soft as night cream and just as thick sometimes. Although well-read and pretty academic, Popsy could be ridiculously ditzy at times. She loved her, but Sandra wondered how she could have let her husband escape the hospital. If it was her, she would have pinned him to the bed and had him restrained. Anything to keep him safe. But then again, Sandra didn’t have a husband. Not really. Not anymore. Jack was hers in name only. Perhaps she should even go back to her maiden name.

How would she finance her life if Jack really had nothing squirreled away? Was her real estate license even valid anymore? It had been so long since she worked. Breaking up was so messy.

“Oh, Sandra. Thank God you’re here. I can’t get Peter on his cell.” Popsy ushered her into the house and straight into the kitchen where Matilda was busy stirring a pot and praying. It was clear she was caught up in the panic, too.

“Coffee or something stronger?” Popsy asked.

“Oh, a glass of water is good.” Sandra smiled. “Look, you need to stop worrying.” Popsy and Matilda looked at her as if wanting to be convinced. “You know he’s just too busy to answer his phone. If I know him, he’s wheeling and dealing to extricate himself from what arose last week. He hasn’t had a chance to deal with it.”

Popsy and Matilda looked relieved.

Armed with a small cup of what looked like a double espresso for herself and a glass of iced water for her, Popsy walked out of the kitchen and gestured for Sandra to follow. Matilda went back to stirring and praying.

“I spoke to Lily about half an hour ago,” she whispered once they were settled in the drawing room.”

“Oh,” Sandra said and took a sip of water.

“I didn’t want to tell you in front of Matilda, but she told me Peter was having lunch with Jack.” She looked at Sandra anxiously. “I kept it very short and to the point. I just wanted you to know.”

It was a good thing Sandra was sitting down, because she felt her legs go weak. Hearing his name out loud like that—realizing that Jack was still a living, breathing person having lunch with her best friend’s husband—was like a heavyweight boxer punching her in the stomach. Jack existing as her nemesis in the hallways of her mind she could just about cope with, but this was new. Other people would continue to be part of his life. Popsy would know things about him that she didn’t—like what he was doing and who he was with. That was hell.

“Shit!”

Popsy put her arm around Sandra’s shoulders.

“You know, if it’s true, Peter has gone to make war with him. We’re sick about what he’s done. You have to believe that. Jack will ruin Lily’s life. He’s too old for her, and he’s done the dirt on my best friend.” Popsy squeezed her shoulders hard. “I love you, and I hate him for hurting you.”

“Stop with the sympathy.” Sandra jumped to her feet and paced. “Sorry, Popsy, I know you mean well, but I’m still too raw. If you show me any kind of sympathy, I’ll crumble. Can we do it like the Brits do and have a stiff upper lip about the whole thing?”

Popsy got to her feet. “Absolutely. Now, will you have some lunch with me? Rosie is on her way over, too. Peter asked Tilly to make him something special, and she’s gone to a lot of trouble. Now he’s not here to eat it. I’m going to have some very strong words for him about treating Matilda like that, and when I’m finished, you can kill him for taking off without telling me.”

“That sounds good.” Sandra was relieved to have switched the subject from Jack. “Was that scrambled eggs I saw Matilda making?”

“It sure was, and she makes the best eggs on toast this side of the Atlantic. Did you know she uses half a pound of butter in each batch? Sinful but worth it.”

Rosie arrived as soon as she had collected Natasha from pre-school. Like Sandra, she’d offered to come over and keep her mother company until her father returned.

Matilda ended up cooking for Popsy, Sandra, Rosie, and Natasha, and it was a pleasant lunch.

“I almost forgot one of the reasons I came over,” Sandra said. “Popsy, it’s a little late, but I have your birthday present.”

“Oh, Sandra, you shouldn’t have. Especially now.” She didn’t go into the finer points about being broke, not in front of Matilda or Natasha who was learning to listen a little too well these days, but Sandra knew what Popsy was talking about.

“Well, the truth is, I bought this present some time ago. Before, well, everything.” She handed Popsy a white envelope with a red ribbon wrapped around it.

“What’s this?” Natasha picked up on the excitement. “Can I help you, Grandma?”

Matilda got up to do the dishes.

Natasha lost interest as soon as she saw it was just boring paper, so she handed it back to her grandmother. Popsy studied the contents with a little more care.

“Oh, Sandra, this is fabulous. Too generous, but I love it.”

“What is it?” Rosie asked.

“Flights to Ireland and a long weekend in a nice Dublin hotel.” She looked at Sandra with enormous gratitude. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

“Believe me, I need it as much as you. Are you okay with the dates? It’s February 7th, I think. I can push it back.”

“I could be away for the Friday and Saturday, but these tickets don’t have us coming home until Monday, and Rosie and Marcus are flying out on that Sunday.” She turned to wink at her granddaughter. “Natasha is coming to visit me for a little vacation when Mommy and Daddy take their break, aren’t you?” She used a little girl voice.

“Oh,” Rosie said. “Mom, you should go with Sandra. We can reschedule our week away for another time.

“You fly out on Sunday, and we’re back in on Monday. It’s only one night. I’m sure we can work something out. We could shift our flights back by a day, or maybe Matilda can help me out.”

Matilda nodded vigorously from where she stood at the sink. “Natasha and I are best friends. Besides, Grandpa Peter will be here, too.”

“What about Peter?” Sandra asked. “I was a little worried if you’d want to leave him on his own.”