A Very Good Life (7 page)

Brett, Janice, and Heller looked at briefs for pending litigation as well as files on dozens of landmarks that the commission deemed to be at risk. The entire time, Brett couldn’t help but notice that Janice was making frequent eye contact with him, much as Patti Hartlen had done the night before. But Janice’s eyes were prettier, he thought. The blue color was deeper, more scintillating.

Jacob Heller droned on about various buildings that he was keeping an eye on: the Seventh Regiment Armory, the Abigail Adams Smith House, the Clarence Dillon House, Grand Central Terminal, the Chester A. Arthur House . . .

“Chester Arthur was a United States president!” said the fifty-six-year-old Heller, his short gray hair and round, rimless glasses giving him the appearance of an archivist. “The domino effect will begin if we don’t stop this trend now.” He sat behind his desk, removed his glasses, and surveyed the mountain of files before him. “Where does it end?” he asked.

“We agree with you wholeheartedly,” Brett said reassuringly, his eyes scanning various documents. He glanced at Janice, who sat beside him on the other side of Heller’s desk. She was reviewing several suits filed to revoke landmark status from four sites in New York City.

“The arguments to declassify these landmarks are compelling,” Janice stated. “It would save the city an enormous amount of money if some of these non-operational sites didn’t have to be maintained at the taxpayer’s expense.”

Brett raised his right eyebrow, and Janice immediately took his meaning.

“But we feel that history is the paramount issue in these cases,” she continued. “Upkeep of certain landmarks can be economized, while many, such as Grand Central Terminal, are fully operational and self-sustaining. Most importantly, however, the city needs to remember how many tourist dollars these landmarks bring in. In the long run, they more than pay for themselves even when minimal municipal subsidies are required.”

The truth was that Janice thought the entire matter to be totally frivolous, and she didn’t like seeing money squandered on hundreds of old buildings, libraries, and houses scattered around the city. The entire matter of landmark preservation didn’t pique her progressive California mindset in the least. But she’d been a good soldier and told her client exactly what he expected to hear. Brett had been impressed as well. She teased him with her initial remark and then followed through with a solid legal argument. With concealed amusement, she watched him exhale and settle back in his chair in relief.

Heller continued to name various sites that he wanted the firm to investigate, assessing the risk for declassification that each one might have. “The Players Club, the Alfred E Smith House, the Andrew Carnegie Mansion, the Dyckman Farmhouse . . .”

The next hour passed slowly, with Brett assuring Heller that they would have the firm’s research staff look into the issue in general but that the matter at hand involved certain imminent lawsuits that demanded immediate attention.

Janice placed the fingers of her left hand on top of Brett’s right forearm. “We’ll do what needs to be done, even if we have to bend a few rules, Mr. Heller. Isn’t that right, Brett?” With her head turned sharply to the left, Heller couldn’t see Janice’s left eyelid quickly wink at her colleague.

“That’s correct,” Brett replied.

His eyes maintained contact with Janice’s for a second longer than would have been normal.
Even if we have to bend a few rules
, Brett thought. She’d been speaking to
him
, not Jacob Heller, and she wasn’t alluding to landmarks.

The meeting was over. They shook hands with Heller, left his office, and stepped into an elevator. Brett stared straight ahead and began to speak after the doors had closed. “We need to—”

“Saks is across the street,” Janice noted. “Why don’t we go there now so you can give me the Davis, Konen and Wright look.”

“You’ve been flirting with me,” Brett said bluntly. “Your behavior bordered on the unprofessional, although I don’t think Heller noticed.”

“It’s because you’re turning into a landmark,” Janice responded without apology. “You’re going to grow old before your time. Your entire life is mapped out, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already bought burial insurance. You want to preserve the status quo as much as you want to preserve those old buildings on Heller’s list.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Don’t you ever want to cut loose once in a while? I’ve noticed you, Brett. Your eye likes to check out young women. There’s a little wanderlust inside you that you keep carefully hidden. Personally, I don’t think that’s healthy.”

Brett shook his head. “If I possessed this wanderlust you speak of, I’d be spending an enjoyable day exploring the countryside in Bucks County, cutting down a Christmas tree with Dana right now. Instead, I took this meeting today and am following up on my promise to Richard to purchase a professional wardrobe for you. This is definitely not my idea of adventure.”

Janice nodded her head and smiled. “My point exactly. You could be with your wife right now, preserving McGarry family traditions. But you’ve opted to buy me new clothes—me, the firm’s rebel. We could have scheduled the meeting with Heller anytime during the coming week.”

Brett said nothing. The truth was that he enjoyed being around Janice. There was something about her carefree manner that intrigued him whenever the two were together. Years earlier, he showed his independence and defied both sets of parents by insisting he and Dana marry before he graduated from law school and he had a job. Over the years, he’d settled into routines and rituals, but even as he adhered to them to further his career, a part of him liked the idea of breaking the rules—and Janice was definitely a rule breaker.

He knew that Janice sensed his vulnerability, which was a bit unsettling to a man who prided himself on the ability to play things close to the vest. So why
wasn’t
he taking the day off to spend time with his wife? Why not have a little fun and get some fresh air with the woman he loved?

He already knew the answer. He wanted to be right here with Janice Conlon at 30 Rock. As much as he wanted to make partner and live up to everyone’s expectations, he didn’t want to become a fossil. The ever-observant Janice had been correct. He was afraid that he was already being marked for preservation. Brett McGarry: husband, partner, landmark.

“Let’s get to Saks,” he said flatly.

• • •

A salesperson on the main floor directed Brett and Janice to the Anne Klein department, which carried conservative suits and skirts suitable for a female attorney. As the saleswoman took Janice under her wing, Brett sat in a customer courtesy chair, pondering her words in the elevator at 30 Rock. At Cheshire Cheese the previous evening, he’d spoken of the future and the possibility of buying a home in the country. Today he should have been cutting down a tree in Pennsylvania, but he’d chosen to spend time with the firm’s sexy iconoclast. Richard had told him to make sure she was properly attired, so it was technically part of his responsibility to the firm. The problem was that he shouldn’t have been enjoying the task quite so much. The more serious concern was that Janice’s reference to him as an evolving “landmark” had struck a chord within him.

Janice unexpectedly appeared from one of the fitting rooms. Wearing a blue blazer and skirt, she searched for the saleswoman to help locate a size eight. Janice wore no blouse, however, so that the partially buttoned blazer was low-cut and revealing. Glancing left and right, she attracted the attention of the Saks employee who was putting together her wardrobe and then turned to face Brett. “How do I look?” she asked, flashing an innocent smile.

“Uh, fine,” Brett replied. He took a deep breath. Janice’s blond hair fell across the navy blazer, and thanks to the bare skin below her neck, she created a stunning image that he knew would be hard to forget. He suspected that her failure to wear a blouse had been solely for his benefit.

The saleswoman and Janice returned to the business of choosing skirts, blazers, and business suits. An hour later, Brett was satisfied that apparel had been selected that would pass muster with the partners as well as prevent embarrassment in the courtroom. Janice’s final choice, however, caught Brett by surprise. At the last minute, she’d added a lined red trench coat to her purchases, something that was flashy and more in keeping with her California
joie de vivre
.

Brett simply pulled out the firm’s credit card and paid for the garments at the sales counter a few yards away. He knew the coat was her way of asserting independence despite the firm’s insistence on conformity of dress, but he wasn’t going to take the bait.

“How did I do?” Janice queried, once more dressed in her jeans and turtleneck.

“Mission accomplished,” Brett said with little emotion, eyes lowered as he signed the receipt.

Some outfits would need alterations, but the two litigators nevertheless carried four shopping bags between them as they headed for the front doors.

“Hi, Brett,” said a female voice.

Brett looked to his left to see Patti Hartlen approaching. He forced a weak smile. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hartlen.”

“Please, call me Patti.” She aimed her very direct gaze at Brett, Janice, and then at Brett again. “Doing a little shopping?”

“This is Janice Conlon, our firm’s newest litigator. Janice, this is Patti Hartlen.” Brett was at a loss for words. How could he explain that he was helping another woman pick out clothes? “Did you and Jack enjoy your dinner at Cheshire Cheese last night?” he asked, groping for words to change the subject.

“Yes, it was excellent,” Patti replied. She examined Janice carefully and then addressed Brett. “Tell your sweet wife hello for me.”

“I certainly will,” Brett said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to Mrs. John L. Strong’s to pick up Dana’s order for wine journals.” He thought using his wife’s name might signal that the shopping excursion was aboveboard.

“Certainly,” Patti said. “Have a lovely day.”

Brett smiled again and left the store, Janice following him.

“I really need to be going,” Brett said. “I think you’re set as far as the wardrobe goes.”

“Yes, and thanks. But I’d like to tag along if you don’t mind. Want some company?”

“That’s very kind of you, but it’s not necessary. I can—”

“You want me along,” Janice said. “Trust me. You may not know it, but your life just changed after those few words with . . . Patti, is it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Let’s go,” Janice said. “I’ll explain later.” She paused. “By the way, did you and Dana have a cozy little dinner last night?”

Brett made no reply. Eliza Doolittle had trumped the superiority of his modern-day Henry Higgins.

They left for the stationer’s on the Upper East Side. Brett had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He no longer felt on top of his game.

D
ana, Andrew, and Nina cruised southwest on I-78 towards Pipersville, Pennsylvania, the home of Winterberry Christmas Tree Farm. Nina Bramen had a heavy foot, and the Bug sped down the Interstate at seventy-five miles per hour. The antiques buyer for B. Altman was in her early forties, had short, graying hair, and wore round, dark-rimmed glasses. As Brett had noted, Nina was a feminist, a bohemian by nature since her earliest days growing up on the Upper West Side. Unmarried, she had eclectic interests that sometimes bordered on the eccentric. Smart and opinionated, she was well-traveled, loved Peru, practiced Buddhism, and collected Asian art and objects, especially miniature Japanese sculptures called netsukes. She had found her strong voice and outspoken manner courtesy of the growing women’s movement since it matched her fiercely independent mindset. She also had a kind heart and would do anything for a friend.

Dana always felt energized in Nina’s presence. Though Dana was diplomatic and chose her words carefully, she nevertheless admired Nina’s willingness to speak her mind openly and take chances both personally and professionally. In some ways, she was very much like Dana’s mother, a woman who believed in candor and full disclosure. Nina was an honest and forthright individual, and Dana daydreamed of one day being able to set her agenda at B. Altman with the same courage and tenacity as the woman who was now driving the VW while speaking animatedly about her travel plans for the near future. She would be journeying to India in search of exotic merchandise for the store’s Indian extravaganza, a lavish event planned by Ira Neimark and Dawn Mello to compete with Bloomingdale’s Retailing as Theater movement. The movement was the brainchild of Bloomingdale’s Marvin Traub, who staged elaborate presentations such as China: Heralding the Dawn of a New Era. Typical extravaganzas featured fashion, clothing, food, and art from various regions of the world.

“I’ll bring back enough items to make Bloomingdale’s blush!” Nina said confidently. “And I’m not just talking sweaters, hats, and walking sticks. I’ll stop first in the Himalayas and prowl the Landour Bazaar.”

Andrew grinned at Dana, and she knew exactly what he was thinking.
I’ll stop first in the Himalayas and prowl the Landour Bazaar
. Only Nina could utter such a phrase so matter-of-factly and be taken seriously.

“They have three-hundred-odd shops there that sell any and everything,” Nina continued. “After that, I’ll head to Jaipur just in time for its fairs and festivals filled with bright turbans, ethnic clothes, embroidered textiles, and jewelry. But that’s just to set the stage! I intend to bring back other objects as well to really lend flavor to the show—reed baskets, woven carpets, mirrored ceramic elephants, antique brass accessories, Imari porcelain, miniature paintings, and—well, the list goes on. Ira will absolutely love it.”

Dana was envious. A teen makeup section paled in comparison to such lavish presentations as the one Nina was going to help stage. The Retailing as Theater concept did not bring in revenue as much as highlight merchandise and whet a buyer’s appetite, so why worry about a little free makeup?

Dana looked out the window as the miles drifted past and decided not to spoil such a beautiful day with worries about work or her meetings with Bob Campbell and Bea. She felt that her marriage had been given new hope the night before. Brett had spoken of making their dream of a weekend country home a reality, and if he were truly serious, his sentiments might bode well for starting a family. She needed to remember, as she’d done the night before, that his sacrifices for the firm had been difficult for both of them. Dana had been patient, and now that patience might finally pay off.