Seeing Julia (19 page)

“Is your dosage too high?”

I know she’s teasing, but it sets me off. “You’re such a bitch, sometimes.”

“So true. I have this best friend; she’s a great teacher. And I
don’t mean
Steph.”

I half-smile. Stephanie was the most beloved kindergarten teacher in Manhattan before she married Christian. Now, they’re so busy jetting between New York and Paris to take care of Evan’s company and me; Steph has taken a year’s leave of absence from her school.

“Very funny. They make me loopy. You
know
that. I’m going to stop taking them.
I am.”

“I know. I think you’re getting better. Absolutely.”

“Absolutely.” I sink further into the lounge chair and pull the blanket closer and scowl out at the chateau’s rolling green landscape that just exudes false promises about happily-ever-after’s and fairy tales.

“It’s curious … the flowers, the cards. What aren’t you telling me?”Kimberley asks.

I practically shudder; knowing my ability to withhold information from her is seriously waning. She settles into the lounge chair adjacent to mine, grabs part of the blanket for her own, studies my face, and just waits.

“Did something happen in Amagansett while I was in the city?”

I carry the shame and will myself to keep silent, but her clairvoyant nature outruns my ability to hide this latest indiscretion from her. She gets up from the lounge chair, walks over to the pile of beheaded roses, and picks up a few. Then, she turns back to me.

“Are these his flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Did something happen with Jake?” She saunters over to the chair again and refolds part of the blanket in around her. “Tell me,” she commands.

I swipe at a tear. “We met up on the beach, running, the day after Christmas.” I wave my hand across the landscape as if this will somehow fix everything. “He invited me to his place to go over Evan’s estate, the paperwork, which we
did
.”

I can feel Kimberley sizing me up. She scans my face like a laser beam. I look away from her, trying to find additional courage in the decaying landscape. I glance at the growing pile of beheaded flowers; the dead flora hurls silent accusations my way.
Look what you did to us, Julia.

“What happened?”Kimberley asks into the long silence.

“We had some wine. His place. It’s amazing. Simple. I don’t know. It was so peaceful just being there. Welcoming.” I steal a look over at Kimberley. “I don’t know. It felt like L.A. with Bobby.” This look of understanding comes over her face and she nods. “And, well, if he wasn’t so God damn attractive. If I hadn’t been feeling so amazingly empty inside, I wouldn’t have kissed him and it wouldn’t have led to almost seducing him
again
. God, Kimmy what is wrong with me? Who acts like this? I was celibate after Bobby’s death for something like three years and now I can’t keep my mouth off of Jake Winston’s.” The heat rises in my face. “It’s
disturbing
on so many levels.” I shake my head side-to-side and feel the bitterness overtake me. “Don’t worry; he turned me down.” My eyes fill with tears as the visceral pain surfaces over Jake’s rejection of me.

Kimberley stares at me. “Holy shit,” she finally says. “For what it’s worth and I’m only going to say this
once
, because
I know you,
probably better than you know yourself: you’re not ready for this, for
him
. Jake is too much, way too soon.”

She looks so concerned I feel a little bit anxious for myself. “That’s what he said, something like that. He said he wanted it to
mean
something and I…God, I was so angry with him. I left; he called to apologize…I told him I never wanted to see him again and hung up on him. I’ve been furious with him.” I hang my head in shame, not daring to look over at Kimberley. Then, I hear her laugh.

“Julia, honey, I love you, but you take sex entirely too seriously and thank God we know this about you. Try to let it go” she says gently. “There might be something there with him, but right now, it’s not something you’re ready for.” She sighs. “Maybe, I should talk to him.”

“No!”

“Fine.” She gives me a withering look.

“Nobody’s
talking
to him.”

Then, she leans back in her lounge, and closes her eyes. “Fine,” she says again, but then, she gets this bemused look. “Although I
was
just talking to him.”

“You know what I mean.”

She keeps her eyes closed and I’m left to contemplate my forever friend. Kimberley exemplifies her characteristic seductress self—her perfect ivory skin glows, her enigmatic blue eyes mesmerize even closed, and her long mahogany tresses she hasn’t really cut, since I’ve known her, just shimmer. Her finest features coalesce in an outward beauty she shows to the world. So many get lost in her amazing good looks; they miss the best part of her—this zest for life that is solely hers. This unique brand of magic that is Kimberley is what I love the most. I’m left to wonder where it comes from. God knows I need it.

“Kimmy,” I say with amazement. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

She opens her eyes, looks at me, her lips part, and she smiles.
There it is.

“For everything. For being so fucking magical.”

“Fucking magical is my specialty.”

We both laugh at the double entendre. I feel this sense of relief I haven’t experienced in so long come over me.

≈ ≈

I start to consider maybe it is time to get my life back on track. This admission alone has me contemplating working with Kimberley again, at the job she’s been talking to me about with
Liaison
. A few years ago, before I met Evan and we had Reid, I worked with Kimberley at
Liaison
on a part-time basis.

The truth is I can’t keep spending all my time with grief and guilt. I did this with Bobby and discovered the best thing in battling heartbreak is to keep myself busy and attempt to carry on by embracing all things normal, although a life in Paris makes this somewhat of a stretch. Lianne can take care of Reid, since I tend to overanalyze my mothering instincts at present. The truth is I can’t do it all, perhaps, really none of it well, right now. My mind needs to be occupied with something else, besides thinking of Evan all the time, second-guessing my parenting abilities with Reid, and experiencing all these wayward thoughts of Jake Winston. I toss away the white pills without informing my doctors or Kimberley, survey my closet for something to wear, and tap my way into the kitchen on the fourth Monday morning in February, where I find my best friend sipping a café au lait. She gives me an uncertain look.

“Going somewhere?”

“Going with you. To the office.”

“Are you sure?”

I give her a beseeching look. “I’m not sure about anything Kimmy, but I’ve got to get on with it.”

Kimberley doesn’t say anything. She just retrieves another coffee cup and prepares another café au lait and hands it to me. So, I start working at
Liaison
again.

≈ ≈

Liaison
was founded
five years ago by David Merchant in Manhattan. The public relations firm fulfills a particular niche and maintains exclusive focus on executive positioning and overall image branding and consists of an elite clientele. As David and Kimberley are fond of saying, leave the branding of products and the marketing of a company to others.
Liaison
specializes in speech writing, philanthropy work, and the images of its key clients. Image is everything in a client’s public and personal life.
Liaison
makes it their business to know about all of it.
Liaison’s
exclusive and loyal clients both openly admire and vehemently defend them above all others (clients’ lawyers, executive staff, and their own corporate PR firms).

David offered Kimberley a job a few days after we arrived in New York from L.A., three weeks after Bobby was killed in Afghanistan. Her public relations background with the Hollywood scene made her a perfect asset for
Liaison
. He’d enticed her with a mid-six-figure salary, a senior vice president title and told her she would be worth every penny. While Kimberley, Stephanie, and I lived in Tribeca, I’d inadvertently been involved with
Liaison
working part-time on the speeches or some of the key message profiles for Kimberley and attended Columbia Law School, essentially trying to get over Bobby’s death. I didn’t mind being in the background for Kimberley. She’d paid me generously as an ad hoc employee. I didn’t consider writing press releases and speeches and doing research
writing per se. It wasn’t something my parents would have understood. There was nothing literary about it, but since, I was able to attend Columbia; it had all worked out.

With admiration, I watched Kimberley assume the lead publicist role to CEOs, actors, movie stars, entrepreneurs, financiers
.
Anyone who was anyone in need of image remediation or a makeover or a change in direction or perception wanted to work with
Liaison
and become a superstar.

I’d never seen Kimberley more dedicated to a boss than David Merchant. Now, working together for the past three years, David, the deal-maker, and Kimberley, the relationship manager, the two have become a formidable duo of public persona for the elite. The combination of David’s impeccable image and reputation with the acumen of one Kimberley Powers, a dynamic brunette whose mind works like a think tank of a dozen men where she possesses an absolute deadly charm that could lure anyone, anywhere anytime is powerful, indeed.

With Kimberley’s hiring,
Liaison
went from annual billings of ten million to thirty million within the first two years.
Liaison
exceeded fifty-five million with the opening of the Paris location, when Kimberley made partner.

I’d been enjoying her success and vicariously living through it while trying to get over the loss of Bobby. Kimberley was the wind in my sail that kept me going. Then, in a magical whirlwind, I’d met and married Evan. We had Reid. We’d spent the last year building our life together, finding our way, while Kimberley got promoted and set up the Paris office. Then, my life descended into one of endless chaos in a single instant, just when I’d begun to let myself almost believe in the magic again.

≈ ≈

“You look fantastic,” Kimberley says to me during my second week back.

I look down at my outfit and glance up at her. “Oh,” I say in surprise. “I didn’t really pay any attention to what I put on. It was the first thing in the closet. I’m just lucky my shoes match.” Kimberley smiles at me and I try to return it.

“We’re having lunch with Christian. You up for it?”

Christian’s company, Chavarria Equities, is
Liaison’s
biggest client in Paris and the main reason for opening the office here. Christian runs a formidable hedge fund just like Evan’s. He and Steph hired
Liaison
to enhance the company’s branding image and streamline the charity work they are both involved in.

“Sure. What’s the agenda?”

“He wants to talk about the media plan. Give you an update on Hamilton Equities.” I look over at her; doubtful. “Don’t panic. It’s just an update. He’s not pressing you for any decisions.” She gives me a speculative look. “Alexandre might be there.”

I hold my breath for a moment in order to regain my equilibrium. It was bound to happen; running into Alexandre Chantal was only a matter of time. I have a brief history with Christian’s older brother, Alexandre, from a few years ago. We went out for a brief time. It’d been three years since Bobby was killed and the oldest Chantal brother proved to be a nice distraction, that is, until I learned he was still in the process of getting divorced, but still married.