Даниэла Стил - All That Glitters

“That should be fun,” Coco said.

“My mother is crazed over it. She didn’t believe it at first, but she checked it out with a few other people, who knew all about it and confirmed it. She came to my office to tell me. It’s good for her to know that rabbis aren’t all saints either. But Tamar is a piece of work.”

“What are you going to do? Did you tell her you know?”

“Not yet. I want to talk to my lawyer first. He was gone for the day by the time my mother left my office. She alternately cried and raged for two hours.” He smiled at that. “My day was shot to hell. I’m not surprised, and yet I am. I never thought she’d do something like that, she’s such a moral person, and so meek. I couldn’t imagine her cheating on me. It’s been going on for nearly a year. It certainly says how miserable she must be with me.” He felt guilty about that too, as though everything was his fault.

“I think she’s miserable with herself. It’s hard to be miserable with you.” He always made her feel better about life, not worse.

“She doesn’t think so. I never thought I’d say it, but I do want her to move out now, and leave the kids with me. She can have visitation, but I want custody. She says she doesn’t want custody and I do, although can you imagine my being alone with four kids?” That was a tall order and he worked hard and long hours. “We have a part-time nanny now anyway. We have ever since she’s been depressed. And apparently, not as depressed as I thought. Her rabbi boyfriend is strict Orthodox. She loves that. My mother’s friend said he’s a nice guy and deeply religious.” Sam knew more about him now than he wanted to, thanks to his mother. He had looked him up on the Internet after his mother left his office. Rabbi Israel Seligson was a good-looking man. And old enough to be Sam’s father, and Tamar’s. Maybe that was what she was looking for. He no longer knew. He wondered if he had suggested law school to her, but she had mentioned it before. It would be a big status symbol for her to be a rabbi’s wife, more so than being the wife of an accountant, or even an investment advisor.

“Are you hungry?” Coco asked him, to distract him.

“Yes, I want a ham sandwich and a shrimp cocktail,” he said, glaring at her, and she laughed.

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse. She betrayed me, Coco. She lied to me. We haven’t had sex since David was conceived, which was almost two years ago. But still, she slept in bed with me every night, and she was having an affair with him. How does that work with all her religious principles? And his?”

“Maybe she thought it was okay because she wasn’t having sex with you. There’s no telling how people justify things to themselves. Look at Nigel. At least she wasn’t doing it with him in your bed while you were at work.”

“Who knows? Maybe she was, when the nanny took the kids to the park. Anything’s possible.” Coco knew that was true. She felt sorry for him. He felt abused, and he wasn’t wrong. It had turned out that Tamar was human, even if not exciting. “I don’t know how I’m going to look her in the eye all weekend and not say anything. I want to talk to my lawyer first. At least my mother won’t give me a hard time about a divorce now. She thinks she should be stoned in the street.” Whatever happened next, it was a hard way for a marriage to end, feeling cheated, lied to, and used. She’d been there herself.

Coco made a salad for both of them, and put some chicken on a plate, and Sam left at eleven, after venting for several hours.

“Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night?” he asked as he left, and she looked regretful.

“I can’t. Evan and Jack invited me to dinner with some of their friends. Anytime next week is fine.”

“I don’t know what’s going to be happening next week. It may be explosive. I don’t want to make plans yet. Have fun tomorrow,” he said, kissed her cheek, and left. She read for a while afterward, thinking of him off and on, and then went to bed. There was no question in her mind, or his. Sam had some rough times ahead.

Chapter 19

Coco was impressed when she got to Evan and Jack’s address. They had an elegant brownstone in the East Seventies. Evan was in his early thirties, and Jack in his late forties. They had a spectacular home and exquisite taste, with impressive art and beautiful furniture. The floor set aside for their daughters would have been heaven for any little girl. They were three and four, and there were murals of ballerinas in their rooms and a big playroom with a view of the garden. The girls came downstairs with their nanny in little pink smocked dresses, with matching bows in their hair, to curtsy and shake hands with the guests. They were beautifully behaved, sweet children. Evan had already suggested that Bethanie come to play some afternoon.

The guest list was as impressive as their home. They moved in elite social circles. Jack was on the boards of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Metropolitan Opera, and the New York City Ballet, while Evan was involved with MoMA. Coco learned in the course of dinner that they had been together for ten years, and she already knew they were stable, successful, interesting people. There were several couples at the impeccably set dinner table whose names she recognized: a famous female writer, who was Ian’s main competitor; a famous literary agent and his wife, a successful artist; and a well-known art collector, Charles Bartlett, whom they sat next to Coco, and was easily the best-looking man in the room. He was fascinating to talk to and had homes in London, Sardinia, Tuscany, Saint Bart’s, and a triplex apartment in New York, decorated by Jack, and a plane to circulate between them with ease. He was originally an oilman from Texas, was one of the most famous venture capitalists, and was somewhere in his mid-forties. He’d been married and divorced twice, first to a famous actress, and then to a major Russian ballerina. Coco felt totally out of her league sitting next to him, and was glad she had bought a new dress for the occasion. It was a black lace Oscar de la Renta. She had been afraid it was a little too revealing but her dinner partner seemed to enjoy it, and the other women were so well dressed that Coco was glad she had gone a little overboard with a new dress to impress her hosts.

Despite his myriad houses in fabulous locations, and famous art collection, part of which he had just lent to the Tate in London, Charles was surprisingly unassuming, fun to talk to, and had a great sense of humor and the ability to laugh at himself. She had to force herself to tear her attention away and make an effort to speak to the man on her other side, who was a well-known artist. But Charles Bartlett was clearly the most interesting guest. And when they moved back to the living room for coffee, he came straight to Coco and sat down next to her.

“I hope it’s not rude to say, or upsetting, but I knew your father. We did a few deals together. He was a wonderful man, and I met your mother too. I felt terrible about what happened. You must have been just a kid then.” He was so compassionate when he said it, that she was deeply touched, and he won her heart immediately.

“I was in college. It was awful. I moved to London afterward, but I was pretty lost for a while.”

“I’m so sorry.” He changed the subject then, and had her laughing again a little while later. He stayed close to her for the rest of the night, and by the time the evening ended, she felt as though she had a new friend. Almost as soon as she got home, Evan texted her. “Charlie Bartlett wants your phone number. Okay to give it to him?”

She appreciated his asking, and texted back immediately. “Perfect, no problem. Thank you for a fabulous evening. So much fun. See you Monday.”