Adriana Trigiani - Brava, Valentine

“What’s it like?”

“Kids? They’re the best. They’re always happy to see me. They’re uncomplicated except when they want something, and then it’s hard ball. Mostly, though, they just want to play. What could be better than that?”

Bret hands me a file across the table. “Chan Inc. is the best manufacturer of shoes in Beijing. They build Kate Spade, Macy’s private line, and get this: Nike’s. They do all styles and materials, and the minimum order is only five thousand pairs.”

“Sounds promising.”

“Alfred contacted the reps. They need patterns when you can send them.”

“I’ll scan them and send them right away. I’m surprised he’s doing his job at all. His mind is elsewhere.”

“Well, you just stay focused. This is all going to work for you.”

“You know, good deal or not, I almost don’t want to give Alfred the satisfaction of going to China. You know he’s been pushing for it. But now I feel sorry for him, so I’m ready to sign on for whatever he wants to do.”

“Don’t worry about Alfred. If it’s a good business deal for you, it’s a good deal period . No matter where you do production.”

“What do you think of Buenos Aires?”

“I’ve heard it’s gorgeous.”

“Well, I have another option to present to you. It turns out that I have a cousin down there. Roberta Angelini. And she runs a factory that makes men’s shoes. I’m thinking about asking her to expand into women’s wear.”

“Argentina is known for its superior leather goods.”

“That’s what I was thinking. And you know I love the family business model. So then I was thinking, we could brand the Bella Rosa -you know, made by the Angelini family. We could do the cutting and assembly down there and the finishing here.”

“Now you’re thinking like a marketing person.”

“There’s something compelling about a family brand in tough times. It says something. You know, quality, attention to detail, tradition, that sort of thing.”

“So, how do we proceed? Do you want me to talk to Roberta?”

“Her e-mail is in the folder. She just had a baby, so she’s overwhelmed, but I told her about you-that you were putting together the financing package for us, and that you helped us secure the loan with the SBA, so that she understands that the money will be available once we’ve found the right factory. When I found out my great-grandfather had a brother, I Googled around and found Roberta. She told me she’d give me the whole story-Rafael’s side-when I get there.”

“Lot of intrigue in the Angelini family.”

“And even more now that my brother is running around,” I add.

“It’s hard to believe. Alfred is so pious.” Bret shakes his head.

“Those are the ones to watch,” I say.

“No, you have to keep an eye out on all men. We’re all vulnerable. You saved me from a big mistake last year.

“You knocked some sense into me. You reminded me of everything I’d lose if I had an affair with Chase. I was really tempted. She was cute and young, and a lot of fun. Available. And I was close to messing up my whole life for nothing. I see the guys at work who fool around-and eventually, it catches up with them. The wife doesn’t necessarily find out, but you see that they can’t handle the guilt. And then all sorts of bad stuff starts happening: drinking too much for one. No, you showed up at the right moment. As you always do.”

“I will always tell you the truth-just as you are always honest with me.”

“You know, at the time, I actually believed that Chase was attracted to me. I really did-and what I realized, thanks to the expression on your face when you saw us together…”

“What’d I do?”

“You gave me the old Sister Bernadette scowl from Holy Agony on the roof of the Gramercy that night. The old ‘I know what you’re thinking, buddy.’ Well, it made me think beyond what I wanted in that moment. We have a long history, Val, and you know me. I might see myself as a twenty-five-year-old-but I’m not-I’m careening towards forty, and I’m not complaining about it. Chase treated me like a peer, though, like I still had it.

“But she wasn’t interested in me, she was enamored of my power at the office and my position.”

“What happened?”

“When the fund downsized, her opinion of me downsized almost instantly. You could say the biggest recession since the 1980s helped me stay faithful in my marriage.”

“Funny how that works.”

“Anyhow, I’ve never thanked you. You saved my marriage.”

“Why were you tempted? Mackenzie is a beauty-and she’s so pulled together. Why would you even look at another woman?”

Bret looks away and out the window. When we used to go together, I remember that look. He really thinks about things, in a way that I can appreciate and understand. We were like-minded then, and we still are. “Things change when the babies come. And Mac and I didn’t have a lot of time together before we had the girls. It all happened very fast.”

“What changes when you have children?”

“Well, a woman’s attention goes elsewhere. As it should-she’s taking care of a whole family. But things become routine. You long for things to be easy again. Uncomplicated. But they’re not. It all seems so life-and-death with babies-you run to the doctor, you check for fevers, you’re up all night. Mac got impatient with me, and I felt helpless. Pretty soon, you start arguing about little things, and on top of the big things, you realize you’re fighting all the time.”

“How are things now?”

“With Mac? Better. But they’re not kidding when they say marriage is a lot of work.”

“Why is it work ?” The unmarried one wants to know. I don’t understand the concept of that; why should love be hard when life is already impossible? Shouldn’t marriage be the easy part-after a long day, you look across the kitchen table and feel understood and safe and welcome? “Marriage sounds awful.”

Bret laughs, even though I’m not trying to be funny. “Let me explain it like this: Mac has an idea of what life should be, and I have an idea, and sometimes we’re in sync, and other times we’re not. This is the work part. I married a girl who always had everything she wanted, and she expects the same from me. The way you and I grew up in Queens was different. We appreciate the house and the car and the nice restaurant meals. Mackenzie expects them. It doesn’t make her a bad person-it is what it is. She doesn’t know any differently.”

“How is she dealing with the changes in your work?”

“She’s scared. You know, I’m lucky, because I’ve always worked to establish new companies and businesses. But when Mac goes to the park, or to the girls’ play dates, and she talks to the wives whose husbands went from getting million-dollar bonuses to being unemployed overnight, she hears how tough things are out there. And I think that helps her appreciate what she has. It was a long road to gratitude, I guess.”

I take a sip of the coffee and look out the window; the corner of Hudson Street that curls into Bleecker is now bathed in full morning sunlight. The pedestrians move quickly on their way to their jobs, the bus stop is already crowded with folks waiting for the M10. A woman checks her watch, steps out onto Hudson Street, and squints to see the bus approach in the distance.

I come from a family of women who work. My stay-at-home mother occasionally threatened to get a job, but only out of her desire to be relevant in the outside world, not because of financial necessity. My parents lived within their means, in a house they could afford, in a neighborhood of like-minded working-class people, like the Fitzpatricks, who lived just down the block.