Laura Castoro - Icing On The Cake

“It wouldn’t be true.”

“Darling. Success is about selling the sizzle, not the steak.”

For about three seconds I actually think about this approach, which just goes to show how desperate I am for new customers.

“I’ll just ring for sherry. No, something more festive. “When her Brazilian housekeeper appears, Sally announces, “Gimlets, Ines!”

She waves me into a herringbone-stenciled leather side chair. “Tell me all about your life. Is it thrilling?”

“Let’s see. I’m still parenting two grown daughters. I own a business trying to claw its way back into public consciousness. Oh, and I rent and have a business mortgage I can barely meet.”

“So then, sell and relocate.”

Sally always says sell the bakery. It’s the only thing she and Ted agreed about, ever. But relocate? That’s new. “Where would I go?”

“Miami?”

“Too hot.”

“Tampa.”

“Ditto. You know I blotch in tropical heat zones.”

“There’s no humidity in Tucson, or Santa Fe. Or Denver?”

“Altitude makes my head feel like the lid’s on too tight.”

Sally sighs and subsides onto her sofa. “I did try to help. Remember that, when you and the cat are moldering away.”

“Can we discuss something else?”

“Certainly. What did Ted the Bastard leave you?” Though Sally has followed the family tradition of no cussing, since the divorce she always refers to Ted as if ‘the Bastard’ is part of his legal name.

I fiddle with the metal tip of the drawstring to my pants. “Why would you expect him to leave me anything?”

“The bastard stole you blind. If you’d have let me hire a real divorce attorney…” Sally’s expression completes her thought. She’s swimming in money and would gladly share an end of her pool with me, if I hadn’t inherited her stubborn determination to live on my own terms. Even if it kills me. “Why wouldn’t he leave you something if he cashed out first?”

“He had a new wife maybe?” I throw up my hands. “Oh, I don’t know why I’m being coy. It’s still so un-fricking-believable! Ted forgot to update his will. The one he had leaves everything to me.”

Sally’s brows peak in interest. “How much?”

I take a deep breath and say the words quickly. “Fourteen million.”

“Darling!” Sally claps in delight. “You’re set.”

“Not quite. The will leaves Talbot Advertising to me plus one million and change in insurance to the girls. So, she’s suing.”

Not even Botox injections can keep faint frown lines from forming on Sally’s face. “He left nothing to the slut?”

“Technically no. There were things already in her name, like the house, some cars, a few tanning salons—”

“A few what?”

“Don’t ask. But the will itself leaves her nothing.”

“How absolutely delicious!” Sally’s smile is wicked. “Yes, yes, Ines, put the drinks here.” She pats the place in front of her for her maid, in a black-and-white uniform, to lay out refreshments. She blows Ines a kiss then gives a little finger wave of dismissal.

She passes a gimlet to me then clinks her glass to mine. “To you, darling! Take the money and run!”

I can’t drink to that. I can’t even explain what I’m feeling. So I start with the least logical emotion. “I don’t need charity from a man who walked out on our marriage.”

“What charity? This is vindication. Ted saw the error of his way in leaving you and Mr. Can’t Admit I’m Wrong used his departure to make it up to you.”

“Sally, this was an accident, like a clerical error. He screwed her by mistake.”

“You bet his screwing her was a mistake! And now she’s going to pay for it. It’s karma, dearest.”

Sally believes in karma, kismet, ouija boards and pretty much anything else that will give a girl a psychic edge. “Ted created bad karma by cheating on you. So then forgetting to rewrite his will was the unpleasant ripening of the karma he created.”

“How about being sued by my ex-husband’s widow? This sounds like an improvement in my karma?”

Sally makes a moue. “Darling, I never criticize. Yet I’ve never understood how you thought marrying Ted young validated your need for independence. It should have been a starter marriage. If such things had been in fashion in my day, it would have saved so much fuss and bother.”

“What bother? You said you never wanted to marry my father.”

She shrugs. “If I’d known we were only practicing being married, I might have for your sake, knowing the relationship wouldn’t outlive the sex. Of course, the sex was spectacular. But who knew at fifteen how rare that would turn out to be?”

“Too much information, Sally.”

She gives me a strange look. “I’ve never understood how I reared a prude.”

“Overcompensation.”

“So then, dearest, listen to the voice of wanton reason.” Sally drains her glass. “Take what Ted’s will gives you. If not for yourself, then do it for every wife who’s ever been dumped by her husband for the other woman.”

“So it’s as if I won the payback lottery?”

“But that’s perfect!” Sally sits forward. “I know just how to capitalize on this! I’ll call my friend in booking at Good Morning America. She’s always looking for human interest stories from the American heartland.”

“I’m only in New Jersey. Besides—”

“Oh, and I might be able to pull a favor and get you a small mention, as my little sister, in Vanity Fair. Well, maybe not, since you’re not celebrity status with anyone but me.” She blows me a kiss.

“Can we table this discussion for now?”

“Certainly.” Sally tosses a throw pillow, which probably cost more than my phone bill, onto the floor and curls her legs up on the sofa. “So, what else is new in your life? Is there a wonderful man in it?”

The only topic that interests Sally as much as money is men. I hesitate only a second. “Harrison is fine.”

“Oh, dear. Not the car salesman?”

“He owns two Lexus dealerships. That’s a little different.”

She shrugs. “Is he at least entertaining in bed?”

“It isn’t that kind of relationship.” I avoid her eye while trying not to think of my one-time sex act with Harrison. Micro-expressions are Sally’s specialty.

“If he doesn’t set your hair on fire, Liz, what’s the point?”

“You’re right. I’m going to stop seeing him, when I have time to explain.”

“Darling, no! Never, ever explain. That will only cause an argument, which will make you feel bad. Remember karma. Cut him cleanly from your life. No calls, no notes, no regret. Why do you have such difficulty with men? You never learned it from me.”

That’s an understatement. “Do you know what my earliest memory of you is?”

Sally lifts a hand of protest. “Don’t tell me if it’s the reason you’re in therapy.”

“I’ve never been in therapy.”

“Really? Good for you. Tell me.”

“Grandma and I were waiting for you in a cab outside Radio City Music Hall. You came out still in full makeup, wearing a skimpy Santa suit with spangled tights and silver shoes. Following you was this good-looking man in a cashmere topcoat.” Sally taught me to recognize quality materials when other girls were learning their shapes and colors. “He was shouting, ‘Why? Why?’ You simply closed the door and told the driver to take off.”

Sally blinks. “I don’t recall.”

“Why should you? It must have happened many times. But I remember because no man has ever looked at me with the yearning I saw on that man’s face as we pulled away from the curb.”

“My, aren’t we feeling sorry for ourselves today. At your age I was fielding three suitors at a time.” Sally leans forward, as if to impart a secret. “The only reason you’re not living the life you want is because you don’t demand it. What have I always said?”