Prodigal Son (4 page)

“What are you saying?” Peter asked her harshly. This was beginning to sound ugly to him, and he could hear a veiled threat in her voice.

“I’m saying that I’m going back to L.A. You can sell everything you want. My father made us a good offer to live with him, and take care of us. If you’re too stubborn or too proud to take him up on it, I’m not. The boys and I are going out next week, so they can start school there before it gets any later in the school year. I’ve already told them. They’re happy about it. They want to go. I won’t let you stop us.”

“And if I won’t go?” Peter asked her with narrowed eyes, wondering just how far she would take this and what she was really saying.

“Then we’ll go anyway. I’m getting off the
Titanic
. I’ve watched your whole life, and ours, collapse for the last week. The ship is going down. It already has. If you won’t get in the lifeboat, that’s your decision. But I’m getting off. You can come or not, that’s up to you.”

“Are you leaving me?” Peter asked her bluntly, wanting to get clear on her implication.

“I’m leaving New York and the mess we’re in here. My father offered us a safe haven. I’m going there. We’re already starting to drift apart. You don’t have time to think about us right now, you’re too busy trying to keep your head above water, and I understand that. You’re drowning, Peter. But I’m not going to let you drown me too. I’m getting the hell out. What happens to our marriage after this is up to you and what you do now.”

“Are you saying that if I don’t move to L.A. and become your father’s minion, you’ll divorce me?” He was pushing her, and she was more than willing to push back.

“You’re not going to have a job here for a long time. You might as well go too.” She didn’t answer his question.

“What if I find a job somewhere else, like Boston or Chicago?” He was testing the waters to see how far she would go.

She hesitated for a long moment, as their eyes met, and then she answered him at last. “I’m going home, Peter. To L.A. I’ve lived here for fifteen years, for you. It hasn’t worked out. Figure out what you want to do,” she said quietly, and then left the terrace, as he sat there alone, staring into space. He had heard her message loud and clear. If he wanted to save their marriage, which was about all he had left
now that he cared about, he had to move to L.A., on her terms. And he could see what would happen if he didn’t. He laid his head back against the deck chair and closed his eyes as he thought about it, and silent tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. He had never been so miserable in his life. It reminded him of the days when he could barely read, when it seemed as though everyone else knew the answers except him. It was a terrible helpless sensation. But this time he didn’t strike out at anyone. He just felt like he was dying inside, and losing everything that mattered to him. His career, his wife, and his boys. She had delivered a hell of an ultimatum, and her message to him was clear.

The weekend was as awful as they both expected. It was the undoing of a life, like a movie in reverse. They put the house in the Hamptons on the market, at a painfully low price. But Peter wanted to sell it soon. He photographed all their artwork, and planned to call their art dealer on Monday. He was also going to contact Sotheby’s and Christie’s to see about auctioning whatever he could. He was willing to sell to whomever would pay the highest price. All the art and objects they had collected over time were being dispensed with. The beach house they had loved and where they had had such good times would belong to someone else.

Peter left the Rolls and the Ferrari at the car dealership and was startled when Alana refused to give up the Bentley. She said she was sending it to L.A. Her father was paying for the transport, and offered to buy the car from Peter, which he wouldn’t agree to. He didn’t want her father paying for anything, so he said she could keep it, which was a hardship for him since they needed the money. She wanted it in California, and Peter didn’t argue with her. He hated making her unhappy. The atmosphere between them had grown
chilly, and had been ever since their conversation on Friday, when Alana had made her position clear. She was on the phone with her father every five minutes now, and she was planning to leave for L.A. the following weekend with the boys. She didn’t ask Peter how he felt about it—she announced it to him as a fait accompli.

They had left Ben and Ryan in the city, to play at their friends’ houses, while Alana and Peter went out to Southampton to deal with the house and cars. They didn’t want to use the beach house since it was being shown for a broker’s open on Tuesday, so they went home, and Peter drove them back to the city in silence. He was feeling defeated by the decisions she was making. It was a painful process, and they kept to themselves in separate rooms on Sunday, and then took the boys out to dinner. Ben, their nine-year-old, was excited about living with Grampa Gary in his guest house. At fourteen, Ryan was unhappy to leave his friends, since he had just started high school at the Lycée. And Ryan was visibly worried about his father. After dinner, they played a game of pool in the game room while Ben went to watch a movie in their projection room with his mother.

Ryan startled his father with a painful question halfway through the game. “Are you and Mom getting divorced?” Peter didn’t know what to answer but put a good face on it for his son’s sake. He had been asking himself the same question for two days, since Alana told him she was leaving and taking the boys to L.A., and he could sense that she had no intention of coming back to New York anytime soon, if ever.

“Not that I know of,” Peter said honestly, not totally reassuring him. “Your mom’s probably right. Things are going to be a little tough here for a while, and you’ll be comfortable with Grampa Gary.”

“What about you, Dad?” Ryan looked worried. “Where are you going to be? Will you come out after you do everything here?”

“Of course.” Peter smiled at him and put an arm around his shoulders, but Ryan wasn’t fooled. “I just can’t come to L.A. yet. There’s too much for me to take care of here right now. And I feel a little weird letting your grampa take care of us. That’s my job. I just have to figure out how I’m going to do it. But I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I want to stay with you,” Ryan said stubbornly, as much to support his father as to be with his friends.

“You need to be with your mom and Ben. I’ll be there soon,” Peter said quietly. He knew how much he was going to miss them. “I’ll try to wrap things up here quickly.” Ryan nodded, but they both looked distracted and unhappy while they finished the game.

Peter hated what the upheaval was doing to all of them, and he was worried that their marriage wouldn’t survive it. He knew Ryan wasn’t wrong to be concerned about it too. He had picked up the same nuances Peter had. Alana was making moves she had wanted to make for a long time, but had had no excuse to. Now she did. Peter wondered if her loyalty was greater to her father or to him. He didn’t know if he wanted the answer to that question right now. It was clear to him that she missed her old life, even more so now that theirs was about to disappear, and in her mind, she had nothing to stay for. It made Peter feel lonely thinking about it. And he hated the worried look in his son’s eyes too.

Peter met with realtors, attorneys, and art dealers all week. And Alana packed. The four of them had dinner together every night, and Ryan got quiet whenever his mother and Ben talked about L.A. He asked his father again if he could stay in New York with him, but Peter thought it was best if Ryan went to L.A. with his mother and
brother. And he promised Alana he would come to L.A. as soon as he could, for a while anyway, but he was not promising to stay. It satisfied her for now, and she knew how persuasive her father was, and in his current circumstances, Peter had no other options. If he wanted to be with his wife and sons, he would have to accept her father’s offer on his terms.

Alana and the boys left New York on October 18, eight days after Peter had walked out of his office for the last time. And their departure was wrenching for Peter. He was depressed as soon as they left. Several journalists had called him, wanting interviews, and he declined them. He had nothing to say, and there were to be hearings and investigations in the coming months, about why the business had gone down, just as there were about Lehman Brothers.

A week after Alana and the boys left, the stock market took another plunge and sank even lower. People were panicked, several more smaller banks folded, and customers began to doubt the stability of even the largest banks. Everyone wanted either liquidity or Treasury bills, and no one felt safe with the investments they had left. It was a terrible time. And so far there had been no offer on either the house or the apartment. It was a good time to buy, if you had any money, and a terrible time to sell. Peter was asking considerably less than he had paid for either of their homes.

And every time he called Alana and the boys, they sounded happy in California. Her father was seeing to it that they had a wonderful time, and even Ryan seemed to be adjusting. The boys liked their new school and were making friends after only three weeks there. Peter had never felt so lonely in his life. He agreed to fly out to L.A. for Thanksgiving, a month after they had left, and to stay as long as he could. He had done all he was able to for now in New York. The
art dealer had photographs of all their paintings and sculptures. Both homes were on the market. And his cars had sold for a fraction of what they were worth. Peter didn’t even care. All he could think of now was where they would live if the apartment sold. He wanted to provide an alternate solution to L.A., one that would appeal to Alana, but he had none. And she was already saying that the boys needed to at least finish the school year in L.A. It was obvious that she had no desire to come back to New York, and Peter could see it in her eyes when he got to L.A.

Alana was excited to pick up the threads of her old life, seeing her old friends and getting involved with the local scene. She had volunteered at two charities people had suggested. She was busier than she’d been in years. Her father was lavishing love and attention on her and the boys, and couldn’t do enough for them, and she looked happier in his guest house than she ever had in their palatial penthouse in New York. Alana had come home.

The boys seemed happy too, and were constantly out, visiting new friends and staying with them. Peter felt more than ever that this was a fight he couldn’t win. And he felt out of place here. He was an easterner to the core, and had been a New Yorker for more than two decades. L.A. still felt foreign to him, and his father-in-law’s booming business even more so. The financial crisis in New York, and around the world, seemed to have had almost no effect on Gary. He took Peter to the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel for lunch two days after he’d arrived. Important deals were being made at almost every table. It was the favorite haunt of movie stars, agents, producers, and Hollywood moguls.

“It sounds pretty bad in New York these days,” Gary said after they had ordered. The stock market plunge had affected everyone who
was invested in it, and the country’s economy seemed shaky, but in L.A. the primary industries were show business and music. New York was the epicenter of the financial world, and more visibly affected. Life appeared relatively normal in L.A., although financing for a number of upcoming movies had been canceled. But restaurants were booming, stores were full. New York had looked like a ghost town when he left, and holiday shopping was reported to be nearly nonexistent. Life seemed more normal here.

“It’s been tough,” Peter admitted. He looked tired these days, and he felt ancient after sleepless nights, worrying about how to take care of his family. Gary wanted nothing more than to solve the problem for him, but Peter did not want to be owned by Gary Tallon. As loving as he was to his daughter, he was known to be ruthless in business, and it was not the industry Peter wanted to work in. He wanted to go back into finance, on Wall Street, as soon as he could. But it didn’t look like that would be anytime soon, as Gary reminded him over lunch.

“I’d like to make a place for you in my business,” Gary said generously, as a waiter served them coffee. He waited until the end of lunch to make an offer. Until then, all his offers had come through Alana. “Alana and the boys are happy here,” he reminded his son-in-law.

“I can see that,” Peter said politely. Gary Tallon was a powerful man and a force to be reckoned with, and Peter didn’t want to offend him, but he didn’t want to work for him either. Nor take a job that was being offered out of charity, and not for what he could bring to it. Peter knew his talents wouldn’t shine there. “But I don’t think it would be fair to either of us if I took you up on it. I don’t have the right skills to really be of use to you, you’d get the short end of the
deal on that, and I’d be wasting what talents I do have, working in an industry I have no feeling for, and know nothing about. My whole life has been geared to Wall Street, not the music business.”

“You could learn the business,” Gary said quietly, observing his son-in-law from across the table. The older man’s eyes were hard and steely. He was a good judge of character and knew that Peter was a good man. And Gary’s only goal was to make his daughter happy and get her what she wanted, and she wanted to live in L.A., not New York. He wanted Peter to agree to her wishes, no matter what he had to offer him to do so. Gary threw out a number of what he would give Peter if he took the job, and Peter’s eyes widened when he heard it. It was a ridiculous amount of money, and pure philanthropy on his father-in-law’s part. There was nothing he could do for Gary to earn that.

“That’s an incredibly generous offer,” Peter said honestly, “but I’d be robbing you if I took it. There isn’t a damn thing I could do for you to be worth it.” He would have loved the money, but Peter knew it would be wrong, and almost like bribery, if he took it.

“You don’t have to be worth it,” Gary said bluntly. “All you have to do is live here and make Alana happy.” Peter felt more like a gigolo than ever.