The Consequences (27 page)

New friends had come along, neighbors she'd grown friendly with, fellow alums from Bard, colleagues of Robert's they sometimes socialized with, but they weren't deep friendships. She'd realized that yesterday when she'd discovered that she desperately wanted someone to talk to, someone who understood the nuances and moods of an affair, someone discreet enough not to talk about it. The only names that had come to mind were Sheila and Maureen. She'd thought about asking in her friend Rose, but much as she liked Rose, she didn't think Rose could be trusted to keep her mouth shut.

The last picture in the book was a portrait of Robert and Kathy in an oval-shaped frame. They were smiling into the camera, shy, slightly scared-looking smiles. They'd promised to love, honor, and cherish one another. Kathy remembered that her mother had been scandalized that Kathy was not going to use the word “obey” in the service.

And although Robert had broken every one of those vows, Kathy still loved him and cherished him, though she was unsure if she still honored him. Whatever that meant.

But she'd never betrayed him, not in the way he had betrayed her.

Kathy closed the book with a snap and decided that no, she could not fault him for checking up on Stephanie Burroughs. The man she had married would have been concerned enough to do that, and she was pleased that that, at least, had not changed.

What she found unforgivable however, was the last line in the e-mail:

She tried to dismiss it. “I love you” was such an overused sentiment these days. People signed off e-mails and letters with “love” and “all my love” and “xo” without a second thought. Reality TV show stars who were trapped on an island together or dancing together or singing together universally “loved each other so much” and were heartbroken when one of them was dismissed, fired, voted off. Love was just a word, often without true subtext or meaning.

Yet, Kathy had no illusions about what her husband meant. He genuinely loved Stephanie. The only consolation left to her was her memory of her conversation with Stephanie on Christmas Eve. She'd watched Stephanie turn to Robert and say, “I love you, Robert, as much as Kathy loves you. But I cannot have you.”

Maybe Robert still wanted Stephanie, but she was sure—almost certain—that Stephanie didn't want Robert.

CHAPTER 46

Saturday, 28th December

 

 

K
athy stood in the doorway watching her husband. He was sitting slumped on the small bed she had set up in the office for him. He'd aged in the past few days . . . or maybe she'd simply started looking at him with new eyes. Looking at the photos in the album yesterday had brought it home just how much time had passed; they were getting older, heading toward middle age. She finished zipping up her black down coat and said gently: “It's time to go.”

Robert looked up, eyes momentarily blank. “I didn't think it was that late,” he muttered.

“The roads will be icy. We should leave a little early. The kids have decided to stay here. They didn't really know Jimmy all that well. I think it's just as well.” That wasn't entirely true; she had more or less encouraged the kids to stay home, just in case Jimmy's wife and mistress turned up at the removal and there was a scene. There was another reason, one she was even more reluctant to acknowledge. She guessed that some of the people in the industry knew about Robert's relationship with Stephanie. She didn't want to run the risk that the children might overhear anything.

Robert stood up. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said distractedly. “I spoke to Lloyd, the brother in Australia, a couple of hours ago. He's not going to make it over for the funeral. He can't get the time off.”

“That's a shame.” She kept her voice carefully neutral.

“Yes, but at least Mikey and Teddy will be here. I think Jimmy would have liked that.”

Kathy stopped him at the door and brushed at the collar of his black suit, then straightened his tie. “I think Jimmy would be very proud with everything that you've done for him over the past two days,” she said, before she turned and headed down the stairs. She looked in on the children.

“We're off now. We won't be too long,” she promised.

“Bye, Mom, bye, Dad!” Theresa called. Brendan couldn't speak; he was too busy negotiating a busy chicane on the Monte Carlo track on his Xbox.

Kathy followed Robert out of the house, pulling the door closed behind her, then smiled as he held open the car door for her. Robert came around the front of the car and climbed in. He revved the engine and turned the heaters to full, clearing the windshield.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly, surprising her. “For the bed . . . and getting the suit . . .”

“I thought you had enough to worry about.” She didn't add that when she had been setting up the bed in his office when he was at the funeral parlor yesterday, she'd logged back into his e-mail. She'd found nothing.

“Well, thanks anyway. And thank you for coming with me.”

“I knew Jimmy, I liked him even though he was a rogue, and I wanted to pay my respects. And I also want to support you.”

Robert nodded, saying nothing, but she could see that he was touched. He pulled on a pair of sunglasses, and she fished her own out of her small black bag. She loved the wan winter sunshine, loved the myriad reflections on the banked snow and the crisp shadows. Maybe next year, instead of Martha's Vineyard, they could go away for some winter sunshine. Snorkeling in the Caymans; she'd always wanted to do that. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I'm a bit numb,” he said, after a moment's thought. He drove in silence, then said, “Do you know I've known Jimmy for more than twenty-five years. Nearly half my life.”

“He was at our wedding,” Kathy said, remembering the photo. “That's where you introduced me to him.”

“I don't remember that.”

“I do.”

“There were times when I'd see him every day for a month . . . and then I wouldn't talk to him for weeks. But every time we met up again, it was as if we'd never been apart.”

“There were times when I used to envy your relationship with him. I was just glad that he wasn't a woman.” Kathy stopped abruptly, realizing what she'd said.

“Funny that, isn't it?” Robert said quietly. “A man can have a very close friendship with another man and no one cares, but if it's with a woman, there are all sorts of questions raised.”

“I used to think that a man and a woman could have a purely platonic relationship,” Kathy said. “Now . . . now, I'm not so sure.” But a woman could also have a deeply personal relationship with another woman and no one ever gave it a second thought either, she realized. Robert was right: Put a male and female together, and people talked.

“And yet Jimmy had a string of female friends who were never his lovers. He used to say that once both sides realized that sex was never going to be an issue, a real friendship could develop.”

Kathy wasn't entirely sure that Jimmy had been telling the truth. As far as she knew, he had tried to screw just about every female he met. Though, to be fair, he'd never been anything but the complete gentleman with her. “And what do you think?” she asked.

“I don't know,” he said. “Outside of business, I know very few women socially.”

“Except your mistress!” Kathy snapped, surprised and dismayed that she'd blurted out what was obviously so close to the surface. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up today of all days. I know you're grieving. I'll respect that.”

When Robert spoke, his voice was cautious, as if he was choosing his words with care. “I know we haven't had a chance over the past few days to talk about what happened.”

“We'll talk about it when this is all over,” Kathy said firmly. “I'm thinking we should go for couples' counseling.”

“I'm not sure I want to let strangers know our business. . . .” he said quickly.

She'd known that would be his reaction. But this was one item that was nonnegotiable.

“I'm not going to fight with you about this,” Kathy said. “It's not optional. If you want to stay with me—if we want to stay together—then we have to start again. I want us to go to therapy and work through those issues that drove us apart.”

“Work drove us apart!” Robert snapped, genuine anger in his voice now. “Me, working all hours God sent to pay the mortgage and put food on the table. If it comes right down to it, that was the only issue. If you had been a little more involved with the business—a little more involved with me—you would have known that.”

Kathy deliberately allowed a little of the bitterness that curled inside her to color her words. “Are you implying this is my fault?”

“I'm not implying anything,” Robert snapped. “This whole sorry mess is entirely of my making. I put my hand up. I accept it.”

She watched him deliberately take a deep breath, calming himself.

“Let's talk about it in a day or two,” he said, eventually.

She was content to leave it at that. For the moment.

 

Robert offered her his arm as she climbed out of the car outside the funeral parlor. She hesitated only for a moment, then took it, immediately conscious that he was the one needing support. She could feel the tremble of his fingers through the thick material of her coat.

She spotted scores of familiar faces from the world of entertainment—and was surprised that so many of them knew Robert on a first-name basis. She hadn't realized he was so well connected in the business. He introduced her as his wife, and, although she was sensitive to any knowing glances or untoward comments, there was nothing. Angela swept over at one point, on the arm of a famous game show host, kissed Robert perfunctorily on both cheeks and thanked him for all that he'd done, then enveloped Kathy in a cloud of cloying, musky perfume more suited to an evening at the theater than a morning removal. There was no sign of Frances.

Kathy hung back as they entered the funeral home. She'd stood in a room just like this just over eighteen months ago when her mother had died, and the memories were still fresh and raw. “You go,” she murmured to Robert, and urged him forward. Standing against a wall, she watched her husband approach the coffin where Jimmy was laid out in his black suit, and was shocked when he bent over and kissed Jimmy's forehead. There were suddenly tears in her eyes. This was a side of her husband she had never seen before. She saw his lips move and wondered what last words he was whispering to his old friend. When he came back into the crowd, he was moving stiffly, like an old man, and she slipped her right arm into the crook of his arm and then held onto his arm with her left hand, supporting them both.

Prayers were brief and anonymous, and virtually identical to the prayers they had used for her mother's removal. Then Robert was called forward as the coffin was hoisted onto the shoulders of six pallbearers who carried it out of the funeral home. Kathy trailed along behind, eyes firmly fixed on Robert, watching for any sign that he was going to collapse. She saw him physically flinch when the press photographers shot some images of the coffin being loaded into the back of the hearse. When he was relieved of the burden of the coffin, Kathy immediately darted forward, caught his arm, and turned him toward the car. She was going to offer to drive, but she imagined that he probably needed the distraction of driving right now. “Jimmy would have been pleased,” she said.

Robert didn't speak until he had maneuvered his Audi in behind the mourning car and hearse. “He would,” he agreed.

“He knew a lot of people.”

“Some came up through the business with him; and there were others—like me, I suppose—who he gave a start to in the business. I suppose there'll be more at the church, and even more at the funeral on Monday.”

Kathy glanced sidelong at Robert. “I'm glad Angela came,” she said. They could both see the back of her head in the mourning car directly in front of them.

“She just thanked me for taking care of things. She didn't seem too upset. He knew everyone,” Robert continued his previous train of thought, and she realized that he was rambling. “I'd even thought about asking him to partner with me in the business,” he added, stopping abruptly.

The revelation stung—but all she said was, “Without asking me?”

“Well, I was going to talk to you about it first of course.”

“One of the things we need to get clear is my position in the business. I do own half of it,” she reminded him.

“Well, it's all academic now,” he said, and she hoped he was still talking about Jimmy.

“We're going to make some changes, Robert,” she said firmly.

“Yes, we are,” Robert muttered.

There was something in his tone that bothered her, though she couldn't put her finger on it.

 

Kathy nudged Robert. “Is that your phone?” Robert looked blankly at her. They were slowly making their way out of the church after the brief service to receive the remains. “Something's buzzing,” she insisted. She hadn't heard any ringtone, but had felt the vibrations through her arm, where she was linked with him. She smiled at faces she vaguely recognized and watched Robert pat his coat.

“Oh, it's me,” he muttered. He pulled his left glove off with his teeth and fumbled with the buttons of his overcoat before he finally fished out the buzzing phone. It stopped.

“Who was it?” Kathy asked, watching him scroll the buttons, looking for the Missed Call log.

“Friend of Jimmy's,” he said quickly. “Probably asking about the arrangements for Monday.” He was in the process of putting the phone back into his inside pocket when it buzzed again.

Kathy had walked a couple of steps before she realized that her husband was no longer beside her. Glancing back, she saw him standing against one of the pillars surrounding the small square courtyard before the church, with the phone pressed to his ear. She could see his lips moving. At one point he looked up at her and smiled.

Kathy turned around and began to make her way back toward him. She could hear his voice now, bouncing off the pillar behind him, throwing back his words, and she tilted her head to one side to catch some of them. “He died on Christmas Day.”

“Who was that?” Kathy arrived just as he hung up.

“Someone who hadn't heard the news.”

“How did they take it?”

“I don't know. I didn't wait for a response.”

Something about the reply bothered her. It was too quick, too glib. It felt wrong. If you were telling a person that someone had died, then it stood to reason that you would fill in the details.

Unless you simply wanted to get that person off the phone.

God—why couldn't she just accept the call at face value? If she didn't resolve this situation with Robert soon, it was going to drive her insane. She shouldn't be spying on her husband, checking his mail, reading his e-mails, trying to eavesdrop on his phone conversations.