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A Serialized Novel
"Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house..."
Exodus 20:17
By Rachel Wildavsky
CHAPTER 7
Remorse wracked Dan Gordon after the catastrophic visit to Jason's
house. He felt responsible. He knew he had not asked Win to
come, but he couldn't help thinking he had something to do with her
decision to show up.
He and Inge had left Jason's house almost immediately after Jason.
Now, ensconced at a distant McDonald's, they reviewed the whole
history of that awful morning. Over and over Dan replayed his conversation
with Win, recalling that evening when she had sat in his
kitchen as he stirred his soup. He had let her manipulate him. She
had been so warm-to Inge, Dan did not say that Win had been sexy.
He had drunk one glass of wine too many. With diabolical precision
she had pricked his professional pride. The result was that he had told
her about the upcoming visit.
"But you didn't invite her," Inge said.
"No, but I said something she could twist that way," Dan replied.
"I said she'd be right there with us. I meant in spirit-but why did I
do that?"
"Dan, she just used that." They had already been over this many
times.
"I'm going to talk to Jason," he replied nervously. "I'll explain. He
and Gwen might straighten this out."
Inge was dubious. "I don't think so, Dan."
"First, I want to call Gwen," he continued, not listening. "I think I
should, don't you? Do you think she's home yet?"
But night had fallen before Gwen answered her phone. When she
did, her voice was thick, as if she had been crying. She had already
spoken to Jason, and it was indeed over. He had told her they would
not see each other anymore. He wasn't ready for a relationship after
all. He was exquisitely polite but he was impenetrable. Her explanations
had bounced off him as if off glass, leaving no mark.
"Gwen, I never invited her," said Dan, stricken. "I told her we were
going, but I didn't..."
"Oh, I know that, Dan."
"No, I'm afraid you don't know. You don't know everything. I-"
"Stop, Dan. Don't tell me. I don't even care. I'm not blaming you."
"But how did she end up in your car?" he continued. "Did she ask
to go with you?"
"Oh..." At this Gwen again began to cry. "No! No, she didn't! She
just showed up! I was seconds away from leaving my house and the
doorbell rang. I answered it, thinking who in the heck-and there
was Win with all that coffee, saying why didn't we ride together. And
you know, we're all so polite that people like Win walk all over us. I
could not look her in the eye and say no! And that's when she got me
with my watch."
"What do you mean?"
"She put it there! She buckled it right onto my purse! I keep it on
a table by the door, with my keys. I was just getting my coat on and
blathering on about being late-I was upset, is the thing, that she'd
shown up. I was thinking about what to do and I was confused. And
she said something like, 'Here, let me help you, we can make it,' and
she stuck my watch on my bag and handed me the whole thing. And
we rushed out the door. I didn't like it and I knew Jason would
hate it. Inge probably told you about my boots."
"Mmm."
"So I was going to put the watch on my wrist as soon as we got
to the house. Then Win got out of the car first and I was so eager
to get in and explain-"
"She's evil," said Dan, awed.
"And now Jason just gives me this terrible horrible courtesy.
This is the other side of courtesy, I guess-I'm seeing it now!
'Cause I used to love how polite he was! I used to really, really
admire that! The thing is, though-" she choked on her words.
"The thing is, I still do." And her voice was swallowed by her tears.
"Gwen." But she continued to weep.
"I'm still really crazy about him! I know he's not being fair, but
Dan, he's such a good man."
Dan thought, as he said a gentle goodbye, that he had never
heard anything so pathetic.
That winter, the housing market-that great rollicking joyride-
ran out of gas.
The implications for Dan and Inge were grave. Dan's business
depended on real estate, and it stalled along with the market. In
the best of times, he earned only at the margins of what they needed,
so there was no room in their budget for his income to fall.
Inge's business had already been in a slump and the floundering
economy did nothing to revive it. For too many hours each week
she fruitlessly trolled the Internet for new projects.
The matter of whether they could continue to send the kids to
Caro, which had hovered uncertainly over their lives for several
years, could no longer be avoided. They applied for financial aid,
and neither of them doubted that they would get it. But the application
process humiliated and depressed them. For the first time,
they understood unequivocally that it was time to leave. They
were finished with those families, anyway: their careers, their
divorces, their staggering houses.
Yet the Gordon children, blithely unaware of their parents' difficulties,
were on a blessedly steady course at Caro. Dan and Inge
knew that even when things are going poorly it is no small matter
to a child to change schools, and they dreaded breaking this
news. Silently-without telling the children-they enrolled all
three in public school for the fall.
The weather had been cold, giving Inge an excuse to drive
through the carpool line, rather than pick up her children on
foot. The excuse was welcome. She was avoiding Gwen. Inge knew
Gwen was still suffering from the breakup with Jason and she suspected
that the teacher would be grateful for a shoulder to cry on.
She did not want to provide that shoulder. It was all far too
painful.
Still, Inge's conscience troubled her. She felt that she ought to
help, as she was the cause of the young woman's misery. How
could she have thrown this tender creature into the mess that was
Jason and Win?
Inge tried to remind herself that until Gwen had entered the
picture, they had all believed in the Deans' civilized divorce. But
her reminders rang false. She recalled too well the day she had
conceived of the match-her coffee with Win; her envy of Win's
new house; her sense that Win's happiness was somehow wrong.
Remembering all this, she felt in her heart that the young woman's
welfare had not been the only thing on her mind when she had
set Gwen up with Jason.
She had harmed Gwen, and with intentions that had not been
wholly innocent. And so she passed guiltily through the carpool
line from the shelter of her car.
But Inge could not avoid Gwen forever. Soon she would cause
offense, if she had not done so already. So one warm day she made
a point of arriving early to say hello. Gwen was hearteningly glad
to see her, but their conversation was sad.
Gwen had heard nothing from Jason, nothing at all. The call
during which he had ended things had been his last.
Inge, curious, asked tentatively whether Gwen had heard from
Win.
The girl's face darkened. "No," she said. "And I don't want to."
Inge murmured in sympathy.
"She hasn't called," Gwen continued, "and that's good. But you
know-even though I'd rather die than see her-I can't help
remembering that line I used to get from her about our wonderful
friendship. All that 'girlfriends' stuff-the shopping, the coffees,
the phone calls-I just think about it and I feel sick. It was
all so fake."
"It must be horrible."
"It is. But you know the part I think was true, in the middle of
all those lies? Win always said she wanted us to be a team for the
boys-well, the team part was a smokescreen. She never wanted
that. But I actually think her involvement with me really was about
her kids. I think in a crazy way, it was all for their sake."
"I don't understand."
"I barely do myself. It doesn't make much sense, because she
never sees them. She works all the time and pretty much takes
care of No. 1. But I'm sure in her weird way she loves them. And
she thought she had their lives all arranged-hers and theirs-
with the joint custody, and the new houses and everything. She
was so happy, and then Jason and I scared her."
"So strange."
"Totally, and pathetic, huh? I might even almost sympathize,
except Inge, why did she leave him? Because she did! Their lives
were arranged when she got married, then she walked out that
door!"
"What a miserable business. Poor Gwen."
"Poor Jason! He's the-"
This was too much. "I'm sticking with 'poor Gwen,'" said Inge
firmly. "You say Win made her own bed when she left him; fair
enough. But Jason did, too, when he left you."
Instantly, Gwen's eyes filled and spilled over. "No," she said. "No,
he doesn't deserve that, Inge. I can't think that." She ducked her head
to hide her tear-streaked face, fumbling in her pocket for a tissue.
Inge clucked sorrowfully and put an arm around her shoulders. "I
Know you're going to think I'm being a doormat or something; you're
going to disapprove," said Gwen. "But I still really care for him! I
know what you're saying, but in his heart he isn't cold or mean or
anything like that. And I really, really miss him! And I miss the boys-
I got so attached to them! I actually feel like the whole awful thing
was worth it just to get to know them-all three of them."
"Gwen-"
"I know it's over," she said, making an enormous effort to pull
herself together. "Jason…when he's done, he's done. I know I have
to move on, and I will. It's hard, though."
The winter was unusually cold. Heating bills were high. Small
jobs turned up for Dan and Inge, but neither one found quite
enough work. They did receive a generous grant from Caro's financial
aid department-and lovely things were said, too, about their
children, and their family's long association with the school. But,
as Inge told Dan in March, when you are counting on financial
aid to pay your gas bill, you are in over your head.
Once again, they found themselves arguing about whether Dan
should take a conventional job.
"Want to remind me why?" he challenged, the old resentment
flaring.
"So we can have more money."
"And why do we need that?"
Inge responded with a sullen silence and Dan pressed forward.
"Because we have to think about it," he said. "You know, Inge,
money isn't an end in itself. It's only a means-a means to happiness.
All the stuff it can buy-houses, everything-is only good
if it makes us happy. If it doesn't, then we're better off without it,
doing the work we like and living the life we want to live."
She remained silent.
"I mean, think, Inge! Would you rather be happy in a small
house, or unhappy in a big one? Which would you prefer?"
This question-indeed, the whole conversation-was patronizing
to Inge, and she was insulted by it. But that was not the worst
part of what Dan was asking. The worst was that, incredibly, she
wasn't sure of her answer. At this point, which would she prefer?
Dan read the hesitation on her face. "That's sick," he snapped.
Still, loathe though he was to change their lives, Dan knew their
bank balance had sunk beyond the point of argument. He began
putting out feelers to architectural firms. And early in March, just
before spring break, the Gordons told their children about the
switch to public school.
"Is it definite?" asked Sarah, tremulously. Their affirmative produced
a shriek. "There goes my life!" she cried, and fled upstairs.
"Thanks. Thanks a lot," said Michael hotly. "C'mon, Davy." And
Davy, round-eyed and silent, followed his brother to their room.
"So," said Dan with gloomy amusement, after all the children
had slammed their doors. "That went well."
But Dan and Inge's decision was sealed the next week by yet
another arresting piece of news. Inge heard it at the carpool line,
where she had found Gwen in her usual spot, bundled up in the
March sunshine.
Gwen greeted her with a hug. "I'm fine," she said in response
to Inge's question. "Just fine. But did you know: I'm leaving."
"What?"
"I'm leaving Caro," said Gwen firmly.
"No!"
"Yes. I've been offered a new job, at Porter."
Inge knew Porter. It was a small, prestigious private school in
the city. Gwen continued with her news. "I said yes," she said, "and
I've given notice. It's done."
"When did this happen? And, oh, I'm very happy for you!"
"Thanks. I'm happy, too. I just decided I needed a change. It
was a hard year."
"No kidding."
"Yes. But you know," Gwen said bravely, "I would have needed
a change anyway. I've been here too long. So after Christmas I
made a few calls and this popped right up. They'd heard of me.
They really wanted me."
"I'm not surprised!"
"And-another big plus-they're going to pay me a lot more.
So here's the other change: I'm moving. I bought a condo in Washington,
near my new job. I'm not a renter anymore, Inge. I'm a
homeowner!"
"Gwen, this is all wonderful!"
"I think so, too! It all feels exactly right. I had about decided
I'd never be able to buy, but with this downturn, and then with
my raise on top of it, it's suddenly possible. I'm feeling happy
again, for the first time since, well, you know. I'm feeling good.
I'm ready for my new job, and I'm ready to live in the city."
"The city is full of men," offered Inge, putting her arm around
Gwen.
"Yes, it is, isn't it?" said Gwen, with a wry smile. But the face
beneath her smile was sad.
CHAPTER 8
The winter was bitter cold, and even after spring break, there
was no trace of warmth or color anywhere. But April advanced
as it always does, and at long last the air began to soften. The ice
loosened its grip and slid in sheets off the wet pavement. The wind
warmed. At Caro, meticulously exercised mothers began showing
up for carpool in tight and skimpy clothing, their taut, trim
figures strangely at odds with the years written on their revealed
flesh.
The light air of spring unstrung the minds of adults and children
alike. Work was a daily struggle. Every eye was locked on the
approaching end of the school year, on the luxurious liberty of
summer.
At last it was May, and then June was around the corner. The
end-of-year festivities began in earnest. Paramount among these
was the performance of the annual school play. Tonight-Saturday-
was opening night.
The evenings had grown long and languorous, so only a pale
moon shone as the five members of the Gordon family joined the
crowd filing into the Caro School and wedged themselves into
line with their tickets. No sooner had they done so than a squeal
pierced the din to their left. Two improbably thin arms reached
through the crush of bodies to seize Sarah and pull her into an
embrace. Sarah's face, which had been anxiously scanning the
crowd, lit up with pleasure. She turned, harried, to her parents.
"I'm sitting with Caitlin. I have my ticket." And before they
could so much as nod, she was gone.
Michael was watching. "I'm going to find Ari and T.J.," he
announced, and shouldered his way into the crowd.
Dan gave Inge a pregnant look. He did not need to speak for
her to know what he was thinking. They were not at home at this
school, but their children were. How painful it would be for the
kids to leave their friends and the place they knew so well.
But this was not the time for that conversation. Inge smiled
down at Davy and tugged affectionately at his hand, which was
wrapped in her own. "You're staying with us, sweetie," she said,
preempting any further departures. "Daddy and I can't sit all by
ourselves!"
"There's Gwen," said Dan, gazing across the crowd. "Whoa!"
he added. "She looks good."
"Where?"
"In red, and like I said, looking good."
Inge's eyes followed his and found the kindergarten teacher
chatting with a parent near the head of the line. Gwen did look
good. She was wearing a red dress that wrapped around her in a
manner that managed to be both ladylike and very sexy.Her hair
was swept up in a new way that set off her pretty head and neck.
She stood taller than usual; obviously, she was wearing heels.
"Nice," agreed Inge, impressed. "It must be fun to break out on
a Saturday night, after dressing for kindergarten all week long."
"It's not just the clothes," said Dan astutely. "I mean she looks
good."
Inge looked again. Dan was right. The woebegone and sometimes
timid girl was nowhere to be seen. Gwen looked a little older,
and she was still young enough for that to deepen rather than
undermine her beauty. Over this difficult year her smile had gained
strength, and something more than her heels was making her tall.
"She did the right thing, deciding to leave," said Inge fervently.
"She's going to knock 'em dead in the city."
"She'll be reeling the min," agreed Dan. "Poor Jason. Poor fool."
Seth was backstage, propped up against a wall with his hands
in his pockets, eyes closed amid the considerable chaos.
He was not there voluntarily. This was a command performance.
The play was not an actual musical, but it was a Caro tradition
that at least one musical number be included in every production,
even if the school had to make it up and shoehorn it into
a script that did not call for it. This year Seth had been roped into
this task. As a result, he was required to be present for each performance.
Performances were scheduled all weekend long.
He thought that he might not survive them.
Because the music had been added to the play, and was not part
of the script, he had seized the opportunity to do something
sophisticated with it. It was not his own composition-he had
not dared to insert himself that far-but it was his arrangement.
Would these rich Caro parents appreciate the allusions he had
woven in? Would they hear the irony when the piece switched to
the major, toward the end?
He doubted it. God, he hated this job.
It wasn't helping, either, that Solange had just stormed off in
a rage. Seth had wanted her to hear the performance. On the way
over, at great length, he had explained to her what he had done
with the music. Having done so, he craved the praise she would
be sure to lavish on him when it was over. He had also expected
to bring her home with him at the end of the evening. But now,
after a stressful and tedious night, he would go home alone.
Resentment seethed within him. She had no right to go mental
on him just because he had tried to talk to Gwen. He had never
lied to Solange, Seth reflected righteously. She was constantly
hectoring him about marriage. He drove his heel into the wall,
just thinking about it. But he had always been totally straight with
her. She knew his career came first. It had to, right now.
And Gwen, frankly, knew music in a way that Solange, with all
her museum-arts crap, did not. Besides, Gwen looked totally hot
tonight. Just looking at her in her red dress, he had known she
would appreciate that shift to the major. All he had wanted to do
was just point it out, just let her know so that she would listen for
it. But she had excused herself to talk to some kid's mother practically
before he had opened his mouth. It was while he was hovering
to take his second shot that Solange had stormed out.
By shrugging his shoulders-without removing his hands from
his pockets-Seth pushed himself off the wall and commenced a
gloomy pacing. The backstage din was cacophonous and he felt
a headache coming on. It was all the damn kids.
The curtain dropped to thunderous applause. The students
and staff of the Caro School had done it again. The musical
number, it must be admitted, had been a little weird. But with
that exception, the annual school play had been the usual spectacular
achievement.
The Gordons rose, stretching, with the crowd. Dan reached
down and hoisted Davy up to his hip. Then,moving slowly amid
the crush, they worked their way to the lobby.
The staff had been busy during the performance, erecting tables
and spreading them with cookies and fruit. Now the children of
Caro were mobbing the food. Michael and Sarah were among
them. The Gordons might be stuck here for a while.
Dan turned, feeling a hand on his shoulder. It was Jason. Andrew
had been one of the performers, cast in an edgy role.
"He was great!" Inge cried as the two men gripped each other
on the back in the half-hug of old friends.
"He was, wasn't he?" said Jason, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
"You kind of see a different Andrew, onstage!"
"You do!" Inge agreed emphatically. Andrew had always been
quiet and had grown even more so since his parents' divorce. He
had been a surprisingly forceful presence, though, in the play.
"So how've you been?" asked Dan. They had barely glimpsed
each other since the miserable November day when Jason had
walked out of his own house, abandoning them there with his
girlfriend and his ex-wife. The Gordons harbored no hard feelings,
but nonetheless, all three were glad for this chance to reestablish
normal contact.
With earnest goodwill Jason tried to reply to Dan's question.
Despite his obvious effort, though, his words were anodyne. He
had been busy at work. He and the boys had taken a trip over
spring break and had had a good time. There were new and weary
lines around his eyes but he said nothing that might touch on the
truth, about his bitter winter or his present state of mind.
Inge nodded, her brow furrowed in sympathy. But as she listened,
something alarming caught her eye just over Dan's shoulder,
across the crowded lobby. It was Win, deep in animated conversation,
her head bobbing as she spoke and her long hair swinging.
Again! Did she live in this lobby? If she saw them talking to Jason,
things could get terribly awkward. What if she tried to join them?
Yet Dan-oblivious to the danger that lurked behind his back-
plowed ahead with their conversation. "Have you moved?" he asked.
"Moved? You mean, into the house?" Jason's face grew serious.
"No, I haven't. And I've decided I probably won't. I'm looking for
a tenant, actually."
"For the new place?" This important news was hard for Inge
to absorb, divided as her attention was between Jason's words and
the distant bobbing of Win's head. "You want to rent it?"
"Right," said Jason. "And that's a makeshift solution, actually.
I've decided not to live in it at all. What I really want to do is sell,
but with the downturn…" He laughed uncomfortably. "I'd take
a hit, at this point. So I'ml ooking to rent it till things turn around."
The news was sinking in. That house had been his pride and joy.
"But that's too bad!" cried Inge. "Dan, don't you think he could-"
Dan, though, was not listening. He was looking over Jason's
shoulder, and a gleam had appeared in his eyes.
Abruptly, he thrust Davy at Inge. Projecting his voice above the
hubbub, he sang out strong and clear. "Gwen! Gwen, how are you?"
And leaning into the crowd, he hooked his arm around the teacher's
red-wrapped waist and drew her firmly into their circle. He kissed
her cheek. "It's wonderful to see you. You look great."
Jason stiffened on the spot. A formal, unpleasant smile took its
place on his face. He stepped backward. Then he stopped himself,
paralyzed by his instinctive courtesy. To leave right away
would be rude.
Gwen's face flushed, but only briefly. Then she raised her chin
and looked around their small group, meeting every eye. "You,
too!" she said positively. "It's so great to see you guys!"
And she glowed as a woman only does when she knows she is
wearing the perfect dress.
Fortunately for all of them, Dan carried the ball. "How are you,
Gwen? Inge told me about your move. I think it's terrific."
From the corner of her eye Inge saw a flicker of surprise on
Jason's face. Apparently he had not heard about this.
"Thank you," said Gwen. "Yes, I think it's terrific, too." She
laughed.
"You start in the fall?"
"On August 24th, and I move on August 23rd!" she laughed
again. "I must be crazy! Or I will be, anyway, by about the 22nd."
"That's a terrible schedule!" said Inge. "Can you fix it?"
"What is this about?" asked Jason stiffly. "Where are you moving?"
"I've taken a new job at The Porter School, in Washington,"
said Gwen smoothly. "And I've bought a beautiful condo right
near it."
"Congratulations," he said, frowning.
"Thank you! I'm very pleased. I'm happy about the job and I
love the condo, but the timing couldn't be worse!"
She made a rueful face. It seemed to both Dan and Inge that
Jason's awkwardness was feeding Gwen's confidence. He grew
more and more wooden, but she was gaining ground with every
passing moment, and her control and serenity contrasted sharply
with his obvious discomfort.
"Can't you push something back a day?" asked Inge.
"Apparently not. I asked my agent and he said the seller was
just inflexible about the date. But I told the school that I have a
settlement and they-"
"He?"
"Pardon?" Gwen looked inquiringly at Jason.
"Your agent. You aren't using Win?"
Her name fell into their circle like a stone. Gwen's eyes narrowed
at the sound of it. "No," she said. "I'm not." She looked back
to Inge. "The agent I am using told me we couldn't-"
But at this precise moment she flinched. A lacquered hand had
landed squarely on her shoulder and a familiar and powerful voice
cut through her words.
"What a dress!" sang Win. "I saw that color from halfway across
the room and I had to come tell you what a killer you are!" Swooping
in, she kissed Gwen's cheek, her long form slicing their circle
in half.
"Hi guys," she added playfully, turning to the rest of them.
"Aren't I right? Isn't she perfect in red?"
Her words were met with a stupefied silence. Jason broke it.
"Excuse us," he said. "Gwen, a word with you?" And reaching
right past his ex-wife's body, he took Gwendolyn's hand firmly in
his own and pulled her toward him, straight across their bifurcated
circle. Then he turned his back to them all and slipped into
the crowd, drawing her away toward the exit. Without so much
as a goodbye she disappeared among the chattering bodies, her
hand holding tightly to Jason's.
None of them said anything. Then: "Michael!" said Davy pleasurably.
Sure enough. There he was.
"Dad," said Michael. "Can we stay for five more minutes? I need
to go see something. With Ari."
"No," said Inge, urgently. "We're leaving. Now. Dan, where's
Sarah?"
"I just need five minutes!"
"No."
"She isn't even here!"
"But we're finding her now."
"Win." Inge turned to her old friend. Win stood rooted to the
very spot she had been in when Jason and Gwen had walked away.
Her usual festive smile had deserted her and her face was ashen.
But she heard what Inge was saying and laughed awkwardly.
"This is a family moment! I'll let you all go. Inge, maybe a coffee?
Sometime soon?"
Inge kissed her with pity and real warmth.
"Dan." Win kissed Dan as well. The cords of her neck stood out
like ropes as her face reached for his. She had always been thin
but tonight she was a wraith. Despite everything that had just
happened, Inge could not help noticing how strangely thinness
worked in a woman over 40. The body looked younger for it, but
the face just looked old.
And then they departed, with Inge bearing Davy on her hip
and Dan pulling the surly Michael. The still-surging crowd closed
behind them like a sea. A moment later, as Sarah joined them by
the door, Inge glanced backward. She could still see Win's head
above the crowd. For the first time ever, it was motionless. Win
stared quietly into space. Then Inge returned to her family and
they, too, then disappeared.
The Gordons rose late the next day. As they went about their
Sunday-morning routine, Dan and Inge were both oppressed
by a powerful sense of excitement, as if a big shoe were about to
drop. They did not have to wait long.
They were clearing the breakfast dishes when the phone rang.
Inge dove for it. "Gwen!" she barked, reading the name that appeared
on the receiver and snatching it off the hook.
She punched the "talk" button and put the phone to her ear.
"Gwen!" she repeated with false surprise, strolling away with the
phone. "How nice to hear from you."
"Get dressed!" Dan barked, shooing the kids from the kitchen,
the better to overhear Inge's call.
On the other end of the line Gwen sighed, deeply and happily.
"Inge, I'm sorry to call you so early, and on a Sunday. But since
you've been so involved," she said archly, "and now that I know
how interested you've been-"
"He told you!"
Gwen laughed. "Why didn't you tell me? I'm so incredibly grateful!
We both are."
"Oh, I'm so relieved!"
"Well, he always wanted to ask me out," Gwen amplified. "But
he assumed I had a boyfriend. Then when you told him he should
ask me anyway, and that the other thing wasn't serious, he just
called right away. Inge, thank you, thank you, thank you! Who
knows when it would have happened if you hadn't said something!"
Inge had to smile at this loving revision of the facts.
"So Gwen, you're burying the punch line. You two are back!"
"We are so totally back! We are totally great! In fact, we're better
than ever. And you know, last night? We never even left the
parking lot! After he pulled me away like that we just walked to
my car and we stood there-and that's all we did! We stood there
for hours! We never even got in our cars!"
"What happened?"
"We talked!"
"Till when?"
"I don't know. I have no idea! I must have checked the clock
on the way home but I don't even remember what it said!"
"Wow."
"We kept saying we'd get a coffee, or something, but neither of
us wanted to move! It was a beautiful night, fortunately! And we
just didn't want to interrupt what we were saying."
"Which was...?"
"Well, for one thing, he was really curious about my new job,
and my move. He was totally surprised about that. It turns out he
hadn't heard about it at all. And I was really careful how I told him."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you have to remember that he left me. And he left me
crying! So I was really thinking hard about not seeming pathetic,
now that he was standing there again. I wanted him to see me
being really OK. So that's how I acted! And then-Inge, I started
to realize that he actually didn't like that! This was the most amazing
thing, when I realized that. He wasn't happy that I was OK!"
"Wow."
"He was definitely impressed. I totally did the right thing, handling
it like that. But I got the very strong impression he didn't
like it!"
"Tell me!"
"Well, when we were walking to my car he'd been very nervous
and almost kind of…joking…and kind of tender, even. You
know, he was acting like a 25-year-old. Like he did all last fall,
when we were together."
"Mmm hmm."
"But then when I started to tell him how happy I was about my
move, I could actually see him cooling! It was like I could see him
aging, right before my eyes! I was losing him, right then! So I just
gambled. I went on pure instinct and I took a plunge."
"What did you do?"
"Well, he said something like, you look happy and that's good.
And I took a deep breath..."
"...Yes?"
"...a deep one, and I said, I'm OK, but of course, I'm not OK
like I was last fall. I said, that's something I'm always going to
miss."
"You said that!"
"Yes. I just decided, go out on a limb. I decided, you really love
him, Gwen! Don't leave this parking lot thinking you did not let
him know! Don't leave this parking lot wondering-for the rest
of your life-if you and Jason really understood each other. And
Inge, that was what did it! That was all it took! That was the
moment everything changed! I'm so, so happy!"
"Oh, Gwen."
"For the rest of my life I think I'll never, ever forget that moment,
when I took a deep breath and I said that! Because that was all he
needed to hear! It turns out he doesn't hate me!" She laughed a
little wildly. "He says he really fell in love with me last fall. He says
he still loves me! We just stood there and talked for I have no idea
how long! And at the end of that talk we were so stupefied, we got
in our separate cars and drove away! But he's taking me to dinner
tonight-he's already asked me. I'd better find something to
wear!" She laughed again, and this time Inge laughed with her.
"I used to hate Win," Gwen continued, "but now I love her. You
know why? Because Jason says that back inside Caro, when we
were all talking? And she put her hand on my shoulder?"
"Yes."
"And apparently, I winced?"
"You did."
"Well, that woke up the White Knight in Jason. I guess he felt
like"-and here her voice thickened with feeling-"when she did
that, he felt like he wanted to protect me or something. Just at
that very moment!"
"Gwen, this is the sweetest story. I can hardly bear it!"
Gwen paused briefly to blow her nose.
"You can hardly bear it!" she said. "You know, this is going to
sound really corny. But all that time we were standing there in
that parking lot and talking. And while we talked there were these
lights-you know, lampposts-in the parking lot. And after we
said goodbye, when I finally got into my car I looked up and I just
thought they were stars! Real stars in the most beautiful parking
lot in the world!"
"Honey, that's wonderful." Now Inge was crying, too.
Gwen laughed through her tears, and she could not stop laughing.
"I'm so incredibly tired," she said. "Even when I got home I
was way too happy to sleep. I blink and I'm seeing double! But I
don't even care. I'm so, so happy."
And they said their goodbyes and gently ended their call.
While they were speaking Inge had wandered into the living
Room and curled herself into a corner of the sofa. Now she sat and
dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve, the silent phone cradled on
her lap. Dan stood over her, dish towel in hand.
"You're so sentimental," he teased, seeing her wet eyes. He sat
down beside her, where she could put her head on his shoulder.
"Oh, Dan," she sighed. "It's such a sweet story."
And he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her onto his lap
and kissed her smash on the mouth.
CHAPTER 9
The next day was Monday. The children left for school at the
usual hour, Dan left for work and Inge, sighing, sat down at
her desk. But at 11:00 the telephone rang in the Gordon house. It
was Dan.
Guess, he said, who just called. Guess who just announced his
engagement.
"Engaged? Isn't that a little sudden?" asked Inge.
"They reconciled on Saturday night," Dan said. "He went out
yesterday and bought a ring, and he proposed last night at dinner.
She said yes."
"I guess I'm not really surprised," said Inge.
"Neither am I. His mother lives around here, as you'll recall,
and they've invited her for dinner tomorrow. Then they're both
taking off work Friday so they can fly out to see her parents."
"How does he sound?"
"Amazing," said Dan. "Just like Gwen, based on your blow-by blow,
anyway. It's actually very cute, in fact, how they're both
telling the same story. They're raving in just the same way about
all the same things. Jason is joking that they should get married
in that parking lot."
"That's adorable."
"It is. And the credit is yours, dear. You did this."
"Well, you helped! In the lobby at Caro, I mean. If you hadn't
pulled Gwen over to talk to us-"
"A supporting role. That's all I played. This one's yours, darling."
"Well, I was good, wasn't I?"
"It's a big deal, making a match. You're supposed to get a special
place in heaven for it, aren't you? Or a star in your crown-
isn't there some such story?"
"I do believe there is. But, of course, I'm going to get a special
place in hell."
"From Win, you mean.
"From Win."
"Ah," said Dan. "It's never over till the skinny lady sings."
But she did not sing. For days, Inge lived with the eerie silence
that follows the dropping of a single shoe. Then the following
Monday morning-one full week, almost to the hour after
Dan had informed her about Jason and Gwen's engagement-her
doorbell rang.
She had almost stopped waiting to hear from Win, and she rose
to answer it with little more than impatience at the interruption.
But there on her front porch-with her thin arms wrapped around
her tall, quivering frame-was her old friend.
They were not in the habit of dropping in on one another.
"Winifred! How nice-"
"This is a catastrophe." Win's voice was clipped and it shook
with fury. "It's a goddamn catastrophe, Inge. I don't know what
you intended-I am beyond appalled, that you would-that you
would-but I hope you're satisfied! I hope you're-"
"Win, that's totally-"
"I completely trusted you. In a million years I never would have
expected this-never. Never from you. If anyone had-"
"Win-"
"If anyone had asked me, 'Win, who wants to destroy you?' I'd
have said, 'anybody but Inge.' If they'd asked me-"
"Win, come in." Inge could scarcely draw breath. She felt as if
she had been struck. Stars swam before her eyes as if she might
faint. Nine months of mental preparation for the day when Win
would finally confront her had failed to prepare her for this.
"How long have I known you?" Win demanded. "How long
have we been friends? You were in our wedding, Inge! You wore
that goddamn dress!"
And with that she pushed past Inge and into the house. Inge
leaned against the door frame, still gasping helplessly for air, as
Win swept into the living room and slammed her purse onto the
couch where it thudded, watch jangling.
She heard Win pacing angrily and struggled to regain control
of herself and the situation. Win's distress was not her fault and
she must not behave as if it was. She straightened, calmed her
breathing and closed the door. First things first.
"Would you like some coffee?" she said deliberately, entering
the living room.
"Do you know how humiliating this is?" demanded Win.
Inge guessed not, about the coffee, and dropped herself heavily
into a chair.
"Do you know who told me about this? My kids! I had to find
out from my kids! Nobody had the decency to tell me! I saw them
walk out of Caro that night, after the play. I knew something was
up! But it was like I had leprosy or something-do you know how
that feels?"
"Awful, I'm sure."
"I would have been okay with it! But not even to know! I tried
to find out and they made me feel like a stalker. And I was nothing
but nice! I watched for Gwen at the carpool line but the...minx
was ducking me. So I called her. I called! I left a message! I was
totally friendly-good to see you two are together again...Did
she call me back? No."
"Ouch."
"So I sent an e-mail-nothing."
"Oh, boy."
"And of course Jason has lockjaw, but that's an old story. So
then I had to hear it from the boys, and that's. Not. Right!" Here,
on these final words, Win's angry voice broke and the tears began
to flow.
Ill-timed, the phone began to ring in the kitchen. Inge ignored
it. "Sweetheart," she began.
"Don't sweetheart me! You aren't innocent, Inge!" Reaching
down, Win clawed at her bag and fumbled within it for a tissue.
Blotting her eyes, she continued.
"So then I called Jason. I called him and I told him what I think.
I've been totally nice about this from the very start, Inge, and he
knows it. Not many ex-wives would have been as friendly to their
husband's girlfriends as I was to Gwen. I advised her. I shopped
with her. I shopped for her! Be friends, I thought. Be friends! But
the way those two have treated me, the gloves are off.
"So I told him. I said to him, Jason, how could you marry someone
who doesn't have the balls to call me and tell me she's doing
it? How could you not call me? How could you? How could you?
How could they-"
It was impossible not to pity Win. Her suffering raked Inge's
very soul. "Winifred-"
But Winifred was not listening. Her voice was muffled by sobs
and by the tissues that now covered her face, but she continued
to tell her story. "So I was asking him," she said, "who knows about
this? Was I the only one who didn't? It's so humiliating, Inge, not
to have known! And he said-he said-"
Inge braced herself.
"He said no one, really. Just"-she simpered primly in imitation-"
just you and Dan. And I said they do? And then he said-
he said it like, 'of course'!-naturally you knew, because you set
them up-" And with this Win threw herself backward onto the
sofa, folded her knees up to her chest and commenced keening.
A catastrophe indeed. The fiction that she did not care-that
she minded only that she had not been told-had utterly broken
down. Now that Win's anger had dissolved into sorrow, tears of
sympathy spilled from Inge's eyes. But as she wiped them away
the phone, which had only just fallen silent, again began to ring...
"We were all so great!" Win cried, oblivious to the irritating
sound. "Everything was perfect, before this happened! The boys
were great. And we were great! Jason and I were perfect, divorced!
We were awful, married, but divorce was perfect! We had our
space. We shared the kids. And we had great houses! His and Hers!"
She laughed bitterly. "I was happy about his house-I was! Inge,
how could you do it? How could you take him from me?"
Though Inge had long suspected Win of nurturing just this
delusion, she nonetheless heard this astonishing speech with
amazement. Despite her pity for her friend's real grief, it was time
to return her to reality. She took a deep breath and strove for gentleness
and firmness both.
"Win," she said. "Win, be fair. Nobody took him from you.You
left him. The two of you are no longer married."
Win uncovered her face and turned her angry and swollen countenance
to Inge. "Bull!" she retorted. "False! We're divorced, but
we're a couple. We'll always be a couple, Inge! We have children!"
Inge was dumb founded.
"We have children!" Win repeated. "They're ours-Jason's and
mine! And you've just taken their father-taken him and handed
him to someone else!"
"Win, excuse me but this is bizarre. Jason won't stop being their
father. You aren't married, but he's still their Dad! He loves those
boys!"
"Jason's a man." Win all but spat. "With men it's the wife-end
of story! She's the one who's there. She's there on the phone, there
in the kitchen, there in the bed!"
"That's crazy," repeated Inge, her mind flashing to Dan. "Crazy
and unfair. It's unfair to men. It's unfair to Jason and by the way,
it's unfair to Gwen, too. She's nuts about your boys."
"You're a fool," Win snapped. "She likes them; don't insult my
intelligence; don't insult my love! She likes them, period, and
that'll be over by next year because, you simpleton, she'll have her
own! She's 28! She'll have children of her own! And the very day
she does,my kids will be stepchildren! If you think she'll be anything
but a stepmother to my kids-from the day that happens!
From the day she sees that pink plastic line that means she's pregnant!
From the very day!"
The phone rang again. Win wailed. "Would you unplug that
thing?"
"I'm sure that's unfair to both of them," repeated Inge desperately.
"I'm sure you're belittling Jason and Gwen."
"Think!" ordered Win. "My kids are cute now, but think! What's
cuter, a baby or a jealous 12-year-old? A toddler, or a 14-year-old
with acne and an attitude?"
"It's not about what's cute. Fathers don't see their children that
way."
"They don't want to, but do they really?When the baby's theirs,
too?"
"They don't."
"And how does a stepmother see it? And who matters more, in
the end? You know what I mean, Inge!"
"I don't."
"I mean the actuarial tables! Who's younger? He's got 15 years
on her! She'll outlive him! And you know what stepmothers do.
She'll inherit it all, and my children will end up with nothing!
She'll leave it all to her own!"
Was this about money, then? "Win," said Inge, "this is utterly
crazy."
"Is it? The kids don't think so. They get this, Inge, even if you
don't. They already see the whole thing!"
"About the estate?"
"No." She laughed bitterly. "That's for later. All in good time,
for that part. But they get the rest of it, I'm afraid." She began
again to weep. "You should have seen Andrew's face when he told
me. 'They're getting married, Mom.' He tried to look so casual,
but he just couldn't do it. My heart cracked! My heart broke! My
poor, poor boy!"
Anything Inge might have said-that Win was underestimating
Gwen; that Win was slandering Jason; thatWin, after all, had
left Jason-died on her lips. Any response, however justified, was
drowned in the flood of Win's agony.
"I'm making coffee," she said at last, in her helplessness. And
as she rose, the phone again began to ring.
"What is it with that phone?" cried Win.
"I'd better find out," said Inge, at last becoming concerned.
"Wait," she ordered, striding to the kitchen. "Don't go away."
She lifted the receiver on the fourth ring. "Inge?" asked a familiar
voice. "Inge, thank goodness! I thought you might be home!"
"Andrea." A spasm of fear clutched at Inge's heart when she
heard her sister-in-law's voice. "What's wrong?"
"Calm down," said Andrea. "No one's sick."
"Is that you who's been calling?"
"Yes, but it's okay! I didn't mean to scare you."
With half her attention, Inge heard movement in her living
room. Steps clicked toward her front door, which opened and then
closed. Win was showing herself out. Inge did not pursue her.
"But something must be happening," she said. "I couldn't get
to the phone-sorry-but I think you called three or four times!"
"I did." Andrea's voice quivered with suppressed news. "Inge,
do you remember that equity offer you got, last fall?"
"The 21/2 percent in lieu of payment? We got rid of it. What
about it?"
"Well, that company? It's just been bought."
"You're kidding."
"I'm not. Inge, it's been bought for $375 million, cash."
Now pain slugged Inge in the gut. She sank over her kitchen
counter, struggling to brace herself against the waves of hurt that
crashed over her. Oh, the misery of it. Oh, the utter waste.
"Inge!" Dimly she heard Andrea's voice, talking to her still.
"Inge, are you there?"
With difficulty she spoke. "I'm here." She heard her own words
as if from a great distance.
"Inge, we didn't get rid of it."
"What?"
"I never repudiated it."
Inge did not understand.
"We were worried about liability, right? So you sent me the certificate
and I read it. But I realized there was no risk. They did right
by you, dear. They didn't draft it that way. So I kept it for you."
Understanding began slowly to dawn in Inge's battered mind.
"Which means...?"
Andrea laughed from pure delight. "It means just what you
think, rich girl! That $375 mill? Two and a half percent of it is
yours."
Nothing about their new position was as clear, as quickly, as
they might have supposed it would be. It took some time,
after Andrea's phone call, to even understand how much money
they now had.
There was no mistaking the bottom line; Inge and Dan were
both capable of basic math. The difficulty, rather, was in figuring
out what that number really meant, and to what extent it might
change their lives.
To their mutual astonishment, they found that while their new
wealth had at first seemed endless, the closer they looked at it, the
smaller it seemed to get. With some urgency-almost with a sense
of panic-they found themselves scrambling for a place to invest
it. They easily agreed that they must choose investments that
would generate an income on which they could live. But as they
looked to the future-again to their amazement-they discovered
that they very much wanted their money to grow, too.
"As if it wasn't already enough!" said Dan, bewildered by the
rapidity with which his standards and assumptions were changing.
"It's not enough," said Inge bitterly. "Not after all those taxes."
But as the weeks passed, Inge found that this anxiety turned out
to be just that-just a brief flash of fear that she might awaken from
her beautiful dream to find that nothing was all that different after
all. Happily, no such awakening occurred. As the spring turned into
summer, they came to realize that although their fortune was not
unlimited (and Dan remained amazed that he could think in such
terms), $9 million-plus would indeed change their lives.
And gloriously, their property was growing. The whole thing
left them happy, but a little unmoored as well. "For whosoever
hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more," thought Inge,
as in awe and wonderment she monitored their growth online.
The end of their financial worries, however, did not mean the
end of their differences. For the first change Inge had suggested,
after they had absorbed the shock of their newfound wealth, had
been a new house.
She chose her words and her timing with care. Their existing
house was Dan's, after all; he had designed it for them. Nonetheless,
the idea immediately angered her husband.
"A house," he snapped. "A great big house. What is it about
them, anyway? Why is that the first thing everyone does? It's as if
there were nothing else money could buy."
Inge did not answer this question. There was something about
houses, something that called to people. She was damned if she
knew what it was, but it called to her, too. She could not defend
it, but neither could she shout down its voice.
So she met Dan's remark with silence. He seized on this silence
to lecture her about architecture. "A house is an instrument," he
said. "It exists to serve a life. Its quality lies in the beauty and artfulness
with which it does so. Its quality does not lie in its-"
"Dan, our house is a work of art and I know it."
"You're missing my point. I don't need you to stroke my vanity
about our house."
"So what is your point?"
"Us, Inge. My point is our life. Before we put new walls around
it, what's it going to be?"
"I don't know. Maybe I'll think better with room to turn around."
"You're talking to the wrong person," he said. "Why don't you
call Win?"
That last remark had been simply nasty and had ended the conversation.
Win's standing in their lives had sharply dropped.
It must be said that Win had tried to prevent this. Soon after the
Day when she had appeared, weeping and accusing, on Inge's doorstep,
she had come to her senses and done her best to repair their friendship.
She had offered a gracious apology; she had sent a houseplant
and a note. She had regained her equilibrium, recovered her manners
and gone on with her work, her new home and her life.
Inge found much to admire in this. Win had suffered a blow, and
From the worst of enemies: her own hand. She had gambled that she
could leave Jason and still keep him, and she had lost him at last. But
she was a fighter. She was strong and would learn to carry on, now,
without him. Inge could only guess at the determination that took.
Yet there was also something ghastly in Win's dogged continuation
on the same path that had led to her disaster. She had moved
into the new house and there she lived, supervising her remodel,
measuring for drapes and carrying her own burdens alone.
"Definitely," said Inge to Gwen. "We will definitely be back
for the wedding. In fact," she laughed,"for us, that's about
the only thing that's definite right now. At this point, it feels good
just to use that word!"
It was June, and full summer. The elated Gordon children, just
released from school, were once again busy in the basement with
Philip and Andrew Dean. Today, though, the Deans had been
delivered not by their mother, but by their father's fiancé, Gwen.
Inge had been delighted to see Gwen and had invited her to stay
and chat. A little giddily, she had explained that she could use the
company, because she was packing. In just two days the Gordon
family was leaving for a hastily planned long vacation in Europe.
Apart from her desire for diversion, Inge knew that she and
Gwen had much to discuss, and she had been glad when her invitation
was accepted. She could not help noticing, though-through
her exclamations of happy surprise at the door; through her offer
of coffee-a new hint of coolness in the boys. They were, of course,
polite. They had been good about Gwen from the start and had
always treated her with courtesy. An elated Gwen had reported a
short while ago that the news of her engagement to their father
had not changed this behavior in any material way.
But today, amid the welcoming and getting settled, Inge had
detected a new formality in their manner toward their future stepmother;
a shade of remoteness that had not been there when she
had been merely a girlfriend.
Perhaps, Inge thought, it would be too much to expect them
to share in the general jubilation over their father's upcoming
wedding.
But Gwen looked wonderful. The two women had retreated to
the master bedroom, where Inge sat on the floor, surrounded by
folded clothes and open suitcases. Gwen had curled up in an easy
chair and there Inge regarded her with satisfaction. She was soft and
curvy and pretty as a picture. An immense diamond gleamed on her
ring finger. It appeared to Inge like the fat, glossy look of happiness.
Pleasurably, she returned to the interesting matter of their travel
plans.
"The thing I can't get used to," she said, "is that we can really
come home whenever we want to. It's no big deal now, because it's
so easy to go back, anytime. Take the family across the ocean for a
wedding? No problem!" She laughed. "I'm still pinching myself!"
"Well, nobody deserves it like you do," said Gwen loyally.
"I don't know that anybody deserves it," replied Inge. "It all
seems so random. All I did was a few hours of work, and then
there's this shower of wealth! But at this point, I'll take it."
"What about your house?" asked Gwen, looking around Inge's
small, low-eaved room. "Where are you going to live, when you
get back?"
Inge stiffened, remembering her painful quarrel with Dan.
"I don't know," she said, bristling just a little. "Maybe here;
maybe not."
Gwen looked apologetic. Inge sought to cover her rudeness
with an explanation.
"Dan really doesn't want to move," she offered. "He's very
attached to this house-I am, too. We all are. And then, he's seen
a lot of big houses and he's gotten pretty jaded about them. So we
might just add space to this one. Or we might move. We'll have
to see." She smiled ruefully. "It's a good question," she admitted.
"It turns out, though, that the first thing you do after you get a
whole lot of unexpected dough is have a really big fight."
Gwen grinned knowingly, wife-to-wife. "This is a beautiful
house," she said. "I can totally understand why you wouldn't want
to leave it."
"How about you, dear? Where are you two going to live?"
"Maybe in my new condo!" Gwen laughed.
"You're kidding! You closed on that? I assumed you'd canceled
the settlement!"
"No-we bought it. It's a good investment, for one thing. I
bought it after the downturn, remember? And then, we might
actually need it. It depends how soon we start the remodel on the
house. Jason still has to call Dan about that."
"The house...?"
"Our house! Jason's house. The one you saw."
This was an even bigger surprise than the condo. "You're keeping
that?"
"Of course."
"I mean, it's beautiful-gorgeous. But I thought Jason was selling.
And I guess I didn't think of you in it after what happened
there. You broke up in that house!"
But Gwen shrugged off this sentimental concern with a cool
practicality. "The market's still not good," she said. "If we sold
now, we'd sell at a loss. And the history doesn't bother either of
us enough to lose the money." Her eyes narrowed. "We can't afford
to lose money. Not with Jason carrying Win."
Inge turned away so that Gwen would not see her eyebrows
rise. Win had apparently been prescient. The amicable divorce
would, indeed, be over. Property would now become an issue, and
Jason's new wife would be the one raising it.
Gwen was perfectly right, of course. Jason had been carrying
his ex-wife, and it wasn't fair. But it saddened Inge nonetheless to
hear this young woman sound suddenly so much older-to hear
money join love while the first blush of romance still bloomed
on her cheeks, before she and her intended had even reached the
altar. It saddened her even more to think of the fresh pain that lay
in store for Win.
"But we aren't finished with you," pursued Gwen. "What about
Caro? You were going to leave, weren't you? Does all this change
that?"
Inge sighed. She put down the shirt she was folding, the better
to compose her reply.
"That's another good question," she said. "You're asking me all
the same things we're asking ourselves! But the answer is another
maybe. We were leaving Caro; you're right. All three of our kids
are registered to enroll at public school in the fall. But..." she sighed
again. "But when we did that, last spring, it wasn't because we wanted
to; it was because Caro cost too much. Well, now it doesn't."
"Amazing."
"Yeah. No kidding. At this point, if we wanted to, we could stay.
But now, we're not sure we do want to, anymore. We've started to
see that there might be other reasons besides money to leave Caro."
"So," Inge continued, "we haven't canceled our registration at
public school. The kids are on pins and needles but we just aren't
ready to decide. What we're going to do instead is make this trip.
We're going to relax and have fun and get used to stuff. We're
going to come to your wedding"-Inge smiled-"and we're going
to decide in August."
"Perfect!"
"We have a lot to think about, Gwen. We've seen a lot of money
at Caro. Please do notice, by the way, that when money landed
on us, we didn't turn it away. We know it's a tremendous blessing
for our family. We're really grateful. But it's also-" Inge stopped
for a moment, and tucked the shirt into her suitcase. "It's a blessing,"
she concluded, "but it's also something from which we may
well want to protect our children."
"I understand," Gwen nodded sagely. Murmuring thanks, Inge
was very sure that she did not.
It was time for Gwen and the boys to go home. The two women
wandered downstairs and began the chaotic process of summoning
the children from the basement, finding their shoes and
fending off their sallies and their fractured complaints.
Andrew slid into his flip-flops and watched, wordlessly, as Gwen
hugged Inge and wished her well on the upcoming trip. Once that
would have been his mother, with her arms around Mrs. Gordon.
Now it was his former kindergarten teacher, who was unaccountably
intimate not only with his father, but apparently with all their
friends as well. They had all just slipped her into his mother's
place, as if there was nothing at all weird about it.
Although their words were not intended for his ears, Andrew
covertly studied the women's moving lips and saw "renovation"
and "house" and "calling Dan." Obviously, another move was in
store. Probably they would talk to him again about his new room.
Adults and their houses. Andrew liked his old house-the one
his parents had sold. He missed it, every day. As for the new ones,
he hated them all.
"Ready? You're always so prompt." Gwen had her hand on his
head, tousling his hair. Andrew did not respond. She turned to
Inge for a final goodbye.
"We're out of here," she announced with finality. "Sorry we're
always so slow." And with another round of kisses, they were on
their way.
The Gordon children dispersed as Inge closed the door behind
their friends. She drew a deep breath, savoring the sudden quiet
in her house. Her familiar, beloved house.
Still, there might be a new one in store, and that might be fun.
Gwen had touched a nerve when she asked about their plans for
their new fortune, but it hadn't all been fighting since they had
suddenly found themselves rich. It had mostly been wonderful,
like waking up one morning and discovering that suddenly she
could fly. Inge's thoughts stole deliciously ahead to their trip. It
had been Dan's idea, and it had been inspired. He had proposed
it after their argument about housing had ended in a stalemate,
as a different way to address her urgent need for space. She had
seen the merit of the plan, instantly and hungrily. They needed
to get away and there was an undeniable quality of escape about
this voyage. It was not a permanent answer to the desire she had
expressed when she had asked for a new house, but they were
thinking about that, and this answer would certainly do for now.
And it would be fun. Two days from today they would lock the
door, pile into the car, and turn the wheel toward the airport. It
would still be dark when they left, but the sun would begin to rise
as they sped away from the city and out toward the distant new
suburbs that lay between them and their flight. It would be just
daylight as they rolled past theMcMansions that dotted the landscape,
sprawled like sleeping lions on the freshly turned earth.
The lights of the massive houses would gleam inscrutably on their
passing. But it would not matter. They would be there when she
returned.
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Summer Internship Information