Hostile Makeover (31 page)

“There’s no reason to rush this.” His voice was devoid of emotion. “It’ll take months for the sale to go through, and another few months for everything to get sorted out.”

“No, thanks. Two weeks should do it.”

“You know, I didn’t mean for—” Ross began.

“Don’t worry about it.” She gave him her best Kate Hepburn shrug. “You won, I lost. Game over.”

She’d accomplished what she came for. Now was the time to spin around on her heel and leave. But her feet felt rooted to the floor.

He considered her for a moment out of serious blue eyes. She would have felt better if he were laughing, or thumbing his nose at her. A shouting match would make things even easier. But all he said was, “What will you do next?”

This, of course, was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, the very one she kept asking herself. But she didn’t owe Ross Morgan any explanations. “That would belong in the category of ‘none of your business.’ ”

He took the jab without flinching. If she’d hoped to stir his anger, she’d failed. But then, what was a little lip from her at this point? He’d already won all the marbles; she was going to have to pack up the few she had left and go home.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “you surprised me. I think you’ve been doing a good job. If it were up to me I’d—”

“What?” she snapped, not at all interested in his pity. “Tell my father he made a mistake? Admit there were two of us in that bedroom? Warn me we weren’t alone?”

Silently she dared him to acknowledge the intimacy of the night they’d spent together. Or allude again to the unwelcome chemistry that even now filled the air between them. He did neither.

“You can’t pretend I didn’t try to warn you.” His laugh was totally devoid of humor. “I did everything but duct-tape your mouth shut.”

She hated that he was right; hated that she’d been the instigator of her own demise; hated that she’d been so focused on him and what she’d wanted to say that she’d been oblivious to everything else. Hated that even now, when he was the victor and she was the vanquished, she was so completely and totally aware of him.

She wanted desperately to pace, to move, to work off some of her tension, but she forced herself to stay put. “I guess you can comfort yourself with the fact that I came to your hotel room. Maybe you should sue me for sexual harassment. Pick up a few extra bucks. But then, you won’t need any more money, will you? The sale of my family’s company should set you up for life.”

He flushed, but whether it was with anger or embarrassment she didn’t know. Nor did she plan to stick around and find out. She turned and left the office. Two weeks from now she’d walk out of this place forever. Then she’d never have to set sight on his face again.

Shelley spent the rest of the morning in her office making lists and plotting out her last two weeks of employment. The Tire World grand opening would take place the Friday night of her last day of work, and there were a slew of details she wanted to go over with Judy. Then she needed to meet with Luke about the status of Creative on her other accounts, and begin initial conversations about the presentation to Selena Moore.

Someone else would take this over when she left, but for the next two weeks the project was hers. Even the
possibility
of landing the Selena Moore Boutiques account would up the price Miller was willing to pay Harvey Schwartz for the agency. The fact that Ross Morgan would also benefit was a great big cross she’d have to bear.

Again, thoughts of her father swamped her, threatening her resolve. His low opinion of her hurt and though she continued to remind herself that it was, at last, unfounded, it continued to hurt all the same. She feared she’d relive the look of horror and disappointment on his face until her own dying day; some sick sort of karmic retribution for all the times she’d promised to change, but hadn’t.

She’d cried wolf one too many times.

At eleven her phone rang. Lost in her To Do list, she reached for it automatically and brought the receiver up to her ear.

“When are you going to send your sister home where she belongs?”

“Hi, Mom. How are you? Beautiful weather we’re having.” She sighed. When her mother was on a mission, she wasted no time on niceties.

“Beautiful, shmutiful! I don’t know what’s going on with this family. Your sister’s acting like a silly schoolgirl, you’re sleeping with the help, and your father is absolutely beside himself, which we all know is not good for him. And on top of that your friend Nina’s out there snatching up all the available Jewish men. This has got to stop.”

Shelley switched the phone to her other ear. For the first time she almost appreciated her mother’s ability to cut through the details to succinctly state her complaints; a breath of fresh air after her own endless agonizing. “And what would you like me to do about all those things?” she asked.

“Fix them. Send Judy home. Make up with your father. Otherwise I’m going to have to take things into my own hands.”

The ultimate threat; her mother rewriting everyone’s parts in the Schwartz Family Soap Opera.

“And tell Nina to leave a few men for you.”

“OK.”

There was a stunned silence while her mother processed Shelley’s too-rapid capitulation. “What did you say?”

“I said I’ll try.” Shelley smiled to herself. For the first time in memory her goals and her mother’s were very much the same. “Although I’m not sure I’m the one who needs to be making up with Dad. And of course I’ll need a few things in return.”

There was a silence while her mother processed this. In dealing with her mother, negotiation was often required but it was rarely acknowledged. “For one thing, I need you to invite a few extra people for Passover.”

This year Passover began the week after the Tire World grand opening—the point at which she would no longer be gainfully employed.

“Passover?” her mother asked.

The Schwartz family celebration of the Jews’ freedom from slavery in Egypt was legendary. Every year her mother filled tables full of friends and family as well as others with nowhere else to observe the holiday.

“I’ll make sure Nina leaves a few men ‘un-wowed’ if you’ll invite her, Rabbi Jordan, and Howard Mellnick to the seder.” Shelley could practically hear Miriam Schwartz’s mind working. “But only if you think you can squeeze them in,” she said, trying not to smile. Three extra people at this year’s Passover seder would be the equivalent of three additional grains of sand in the Sahara.

“I’ll invite them,” her mother said. “As to the rest, I’ll give you two weeks before I step in.”

There was a brief pause. “Nina doesn’t really want to be Jewish, does she? I mean, don’t get me wrong, we
are
the chosen people. But it doesn’t always feel like such a privilege.”

“I know, Mom. I don’t really understand it myself,” Shelley replied. “But for some wacky reason, Nina Olson wants a family just like ours.”

Despite Shelley’s attempts to set up a meeting by phone, her brother-in-law managed to dodge her for a full day and a half. By noon on Thursday she realized her mistake; she’d been trying to make an appointment like a civilized human being. It was time to pull a sneak attack.

Trying not to think about how badly her storming of Ross’s office had gone, she presented herself to Craig’s secretary right after lunch.

“Is he tied up?” she asked.

The secretary consulted the agenda in front of her. “Um, no.” She reached for the intercom. “Let me tell him you’re here.”

Shelley’s hand reached the buzzer first. “Let’s not do that.” The secretary pulled her hand back and Shelley took advantage of her momentary confusion. “I’ve got a surprise for him from my sister. And I don’t want to spoil it.”

“But—”

“It’ll be fine.” She was already headed for Craig’s office door. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

When she entered, Craig was leaning back in his chair, feet up on his desk, staring out the window at his impressive view of downtown Atlanta. At the sound of the door, he turned and dropped his feet to the floor. He didn’t look at all happy to see her.

“Gee,” she said, “I hate to interrupt when you’re so busy.”

He flushed.

“Is this what you were doing when you said you were too busy to see me?” She plopped down into the chair across from his desk, uninvited. “Or when Judy wanted to talk?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Well, actually, it is. Because your wife is my sister. And she’s living in my home, which by the way is now incredibly well organized. And she’s looking real hard at her marriage. Don’t you think you should be a part of that?”

He straightened and his face flushed again. “I can’t believe you, of all people, are trying to tell me what to do about a relationship. When’s the last time you actually
had
a relationship that lasted longer than six months? Or went out with anyone who was even remotely suitable?”

“Strange, isn’t it?” she agreed. “But the fact is, Judy’s left you and if you don’t DO something to convince her otherwise, she might not be coming back.”

That one definitely rocked him. He sat back in his chair, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know what’s come over her. She’s not at all the woman I married.”

He looked so perplexed Shelley almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite. The man had been taking her sister for granted and he needed a good, swift kick in the rear end.

“No, she’s not the same woman you married. She’s growing and evolving; I think she’s become interesting as hell. All you really have to do is open up enough to discuss what she needs from you. And you could tell her what you need, too. It doesn’t have to be a one-way street.”

She almost choked over the words. They were so obvious, yet when had she ever followed such advice? She’d never even been in a situation that warranted the effort.

She could see that he found the idea shocking, too. But his reluctance was tinged with something else.

“You don’t think she’s slept with that O’Connor guy, do you?”

It was clear he needed the answer to be no, but Shelley wasn’t in the reassurance business. “I don’t actually know, Craig. But if I were you I’d get in touch with Judy as soon as possible and let her know you want to try to work things out. Then I’d try a little groveling. And flowers, flowers are always good. Judy deserves to feel appreciated.”

Craig’s shoulders slumped. When she met his eyes, they were troubled. “I just don’t get it. I love her and I thought she loved me. How did everything get so complicated?”

“I don’t know,” Shelley said as she stood and drew her purse over her shoulder, “I’ve been asking myself that question a lot lately. I’ll let you know if I come up with any answers.”

Judy studied her younger son surreptitiously as she drove him to Hebrew school. On the outside, Sammy looked the same; he had the same unruly dark hair that he refused to have cut, the same dark eyes that were so much like her own. But there was a new fragility about him that hadn’t been there before. He was careful of what he said, as if he was thinking out each word before he uttered it. Jason had grown surlier and more independent, seeking more and more attention in her absence; Sammy had done just the opposite; shrinking into himself and becoming quieter by the day.

“So how was school today?” she asked too brightly.

“OK.”

“Did the math test go all right?”

“Yes.”

Judy turned onto Mayfair, the street on which their temple was located, and slowed for a light. “What does your Hebrew tutor say about your progress?”

The light turned red, so she was able to watch his face. He blanched and swallowed. Sammy had always been the world’s worst liar.

“Good. He said I’m, um, right on track.” He turned his head and looked out the passenger window.

“You know, if you feel you need extra help, we can always set that up. Steve Reinholt had lessons twice a week right up until the week before his bar mitzvah.”

He turned back to face her and she thought he might say something more revealing, but then the light turned green and she was forced to pay attention to the road.

“I’m fine,” he said, as she pulled up to the circular drive of the temple. “You don’t need to do anything or call anyone.” He gathered his book bag and grabbed the door handle. “Everything’s going OK.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and breathed in the scent of boy. “Good,” she said, “I’m glad to hear it. Give my best to Mr. Pinkhas. And call me tonight before you go to bed.”

“Sure, Mom. Thanks.” Then he was out of the car and walking up the walkway, his skinny shoulders squared and set. She waited until he went inside. Then she drove out of the temple parking lot and into the crowded lot of an office building across the street, where she’d have an unobstructed view of the temple.

Turning off the car, she settled in to wait.

chapter
29

I
n less than ten minutes Judy saw her son exit the rear of the temple. He looked both ways before stepping outside, then walked quickly to the sidewalk and took a right toward the closest intersection.