Society Wives (15 page)

“Good.” Candice continued walking. “Please take Pearson's coat,” she told the maid.

Pearson handed it over to her.

When they made it to the room, Candice flopped into an antique winged-back chair and sighed. “I've wanted to do this for so long.”

The woman returned with a tray with two dirty Martinis.

How did she know?
Pearson thought jokingly, but then really wondered as she took the glass and luxuriated in a long sip. She smiled her first real smile since she arrived at her mother's house.

“Like mother, like daughter,” Candice said, taking a sip and smiling over her own glass.

“Pardon me?” Pearson asked, not sure if she liked being compared.

“I see you like a well-made martini.” Candice grinned.

“Yeah. I like 'em stiff and extra dirty,” Pearson said mischievously and she shared a genuine laugh with Candice.

“Dear! Make sure Pearson's next one is extra dirty. As a matter of fact, why don't you go ahead and prepare the next one? It looks like it won't be long before this one is finished.”

Pearson rolled her eyes, not sure if her mother was being facetious or not. “Yeah. Please toss in a few more olives if you can.”

As the warm liquid flowed through her body, she felt more at ease making small talk with her mother. By her third martini, she was ready to get to the point of the visit. The maid had just placed a colorful mixed green salad on the cafe table that sat between her and Candice's chair. Pearson pushed a few forkfuls in her mouth as she tried to put words together that would get her questions across without stinging or sounding too eager.

Swallowing hard, Pearson pushed down her last forkful and turned to her mother, who was eating like she was demonstrating proper etiquette to a class of potential debutantes.

“Why didn't you like me?” Pearson tried her best, but she was never one for tip-toeing around any matter. Straight forward came easy.

Candice stopped chewing. She looked at Pearson, sighed and then finished chewing before responding. “It's not that I never liked you.”

“Then what is it?”

“I didn't know what to do with you,” Candice simply stated as if she were talking about the weather.

“What the...hell is that supposed to mean?” Pearson looked at her mother sideways and pointed to her empty glass so the maid could bring her another martini.

“Do we really have to go there? I have some really important information I want to share with you. That's why I asked you over. Not for this.”

“Yes. We have to go there because I honestly don't know when we will ever be in one another's presence this way again and be so...cordial.”

“Oh, please, Pearson!” Pearson twisted her lips and Candice rolled her eyes. “Okay. We don't talk much, but don't make me out to be a bad person.” Candice scrunched her shoulders. “I'm just not one for a lot of unnecessary conversation.”

Pearson bit back the sting of her mother's comment. “Even with your own daughter?”

“You don't understand.”

“Make me understand.” Pearson felt herself getting emotional and knew that tears wouldn't be far behind. That last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Candice so she could see how badly she was affected by her. She was just glad that she had the courage to finally ask her mother these questions.

She took the martini that was handed to her, settled in her seat and looked at her mother, waiting for her reply.

Candice put down her plate and turned toward Pearson.” You want the truth?”

“The whole and nothing but,” she said sarcastically. “What kind of question is that? You think I can't handle the truth? News flash old woman: I'm grown!”

“Your tongue has always been so unpolished. No amount of training or exposure was ever able to change that.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” Pearson said and flashed a smirk that complemented her sarcasm.

Candice rolled her eyes. “Touché.” Candice sat quietly for a moment. “Okay. I never wanted children.”

Pearson felt something in her chest plummet into her stomach. Though she suspected it, she didn't expect Candice to come out and admit it. Immediately a flesh cloak of abandonment shrouded her. She swallowed hard to keep her emotions in check.

“I had you to keep your father happy.” Candice looked off into the distance. “God, I loved that man.” She paused. “I wasn't good at that stuff. I didn't have a good mother and I thought for sure that I wouldn't be a good mother. But it didn't mean that I didn't like…love you.”

Pearson bit the inside of her lip. “Well that's how it felt.” Pearson paused, waiting for an apology to go along with the confession. There was none.

“Sweetie! Bring me another martini. Make it good and stiff.” Candice turned her attention to Pearson. “Now can we get down to the reason I called you here?”

Pearson shrugged. “I guess so.” She nodded for another martini.

“I'll be retiring soon and I want you to run the company.”

“What?”

“Pearson! It was your father's joy. The thing he seemed to love the most, besides you of course.” Candice appeared to have gone off in a distance somewhere in her mind. “I wouldn't want to leave it in just anyone's hands,” she said, reaching for the freshly made martini.

“Ma—”

“Just think about it,” Candice interrupted, waving off Pearson's potential comment with a toss of her hand. I'd hate to hand it off to someone outside of the family.”

Pearson felt like a boulder had been dropped in her lap. “I don't know anything about the business.”

“But you know how to run a business. You've had your foundation for what...almost ten years now?”

Pearson was surprised that Candice knew that bit of information. “Yes, but that's different.”

“If you can run one company, you can run any company. Your father wanted this. He built this company to be a legacy for his family.”

“Oh no! Don't try to guilt me into doing this.”

“That's not what I'm doing.” Candice cast her eyes at the ceiling as if she were searching for the right words there. “Listen.” She twisted her body to face Pearson full on. “How about this? Come spend a few days in the office and see how things are done before you shoot down the opportunity. Make your decision after that. Let's say...one week. That would give you enough time to shadow me and see how we operate.”

Candice turned away from their conversation as if all was settled. She nodded and the maid delivered their plates with an appealing presentation that could rival any upscale restaurant. Shortly after their meals of grilled sea bass with risotto and green beans arrived, Pearson dug in, hoping to soak up some of the liquor swimming in her belly. She was convinced that she needed those drinks to help bear this meeting with Candice. She had to make sure some of the effects of her martinis wore off before she got home.

After eating, Pearson was ready to leave. She'd done her duty and endured a few hours with Candice. It was a little better than what she expected, but she still felt the sting of her mother's unapologetic admission. She had more questions, but couldn't handle the answers just yet. She'd wait for their next bout of ‘quality' time if she could subject herself to it.

Chapter 24

Ryan

The moment Ryan woke with that nauseating taste in her mouth, she knew she was pregnant—again. It happened every single time. She and Anderson didn't have sex that often so she attributed this most recent conception to the night of Nadalia's holiday party several weeks back. Getting pregnant wasn't a problem for Ryan. Staying pregnant was her issue.

Ryan pulled back the covers and a chill ran across her arms. She held herself and looked around the lonely room. Anderson had been gone for weeks now, filming in various cities across the country. The odd thing was that he'd been checking in more than usual. Something clicked the night she raised up at him at Nadalia's house. He'd been giving her just a little more respect. She liked the attention, but knew that she still didn't fully have her husband and never did. She wondered if she ever would. Things hadn't always been that bad and she longed for the Anderson who had won her heart in the beginning.

Sliding her feet into a pair of tan lambskin slippers, Ryan stood, stretched, and made her way to the adjoining bath. She reached into the far back of the vanity and pulled out one of the pregnancy tests she hid in there. Ryan relieved herself and just as she had suspected, the test was positive. Ryan jumped in the shower and threw on a pair of jeans and a soft pink cashmere sweater and boots. For breakfast, she stuffed a few crackers in her mouth and washed them down with a small cup of ginger ale. Anything more would run the risk of coming up on her way to the city. She packed a few pieces of fruit and a few more crackers to take with her.

It was still rather early so she decided to call her doctor a little later. This time, she wasn't going to wait for a visit. She vowed to be sitting in front of her doctor within the next twenty-four hours talking about strategies for keeping this baby inside of her.

Maybe this would be the key to their marriage finally falling back into place. As the mother of his child, Anderson would have to respect her even more, she thought.

Ryan planned to keep it a secret from everyone, including her mother, until she knew if it would actually happen this time. Maybe she would tell Vonnie, since she was both a mother and a doctor. She might have tips to help her maintain a successful pregnancy. What could she lose by telling her?

Ryan stuffed a leotard, spandex shorts and shrug to keep her arms warm in her bag, but then took it out. She'd still meet her old dance buddies at her friend's studio, but she wouldn't dance today or in the near future until she knew exactly what was going on inside of her body.

When Anderson was out of town for extended periods of time, Ryan took advantage of the time to reconnect with her dance community, using their rehearsals as workouts. She's even entertained going back to teach at the university, but Anderson didn't want her doing that, so she stayed home and played the rich wife role. She often argued that the wives of his friends all worked and even owned companies. Anderson didn't care and would retort that he wasn't married to them.
His
wife wasn't working and if Ryan wanted to remain as
his
wife, she'd have to comply or be threatened to be sent back to the rat hole he found her in—although she'd since upgraded her mother's small apartment to a modest three bedroom ranch home in Garden City Park.

Anderson's absence gave her an opportunity to indulge her passion just a little. He didn't know she kept ties with the artistic community she used to work with during her brief stint as a dancer on Broadway, where she'd met him after a performance. She'd try her best to get her fill while he was away, visiting studios, taking classes here and there to hone her craft, and checking out performances. Other times, she'd busy herself doing volunteer work, keeping house, hanging with her mother and doing yoga. He didn't want her getting involved with too much else because as he said, he didn't need people in his business and he needed to keep his circles tight.

Despite the cold, Ryan drove halfway to the city with her windows open until the rush of winds were too much to bear. After meeting up with the women, she planned to take in a musical and enjoy a nice lunch before returning to the Island. At some point she'd call and make an urgent care appointment with her GYN.

Ryan pulled her car into a lot on 43
^rd
street, right in the heart of the theater district, and headed up to her friend's studio. The dancers were already on the floor stretching when she arrived. Catching her friend, Nadia's attention, she nodded and continued to instruct the group on the next move. Ryan pointed to a folding chair near the corner and Nadia frowned. Ryan frowned and rubbed her belly. Nadia nodded again and guided the group to the next movement without breaking her eight-count.

It was hard for Ryan to watch the dancers on the floor and not be able to join them. She longed for the days when she indulged her passion on a daily basis. Before Anderson came into her life, dance had been her knight in shining armor, promising her a life bigger than the one she had always known.

Nadia clapped her hands and the dancers stood awaiting their next set of directions. Nadia moved with grace even as she walked over to switch the song on her iPod, which was connected to the sound system. An upbeat classical rhythm filled the space with a mix of soft harmonies against an eclectic bass and Nadia snapped her fingers as she counted the dancers off.

“Five, six…five, six, seven, eight,” she yelled, casting a stern glare across the sea of dancers, all donned in black leotards, tights, and ballet shoes. “And reach! And up! Yes! Just like that, Talia. Do it just like she did next time. Keep going. And out…one, two, three, four, and hold.” Nadia called out directives like a drill sergeant as she guided the dancers through several renditions. She moved about the room joining in on certain steps or snapping her fingers, and yelling to make sure they were hitting all of the accents.

Ryan allowed the rhythms to capture her. She made small movements from her seat, gliding her arms in the same fashion as the dancers on the floor. Then she closed her eyes and swayed to the beat until it reached a dramatic end.

“Okay. Take five. Get some water,” Nadia yelled and the dancers filed out of the room. She directed her attention to Ryan as she wiped her neck with a hand towel. “Not dancing today? What's up with that?”

“I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me.” Ryan held her stomach for affect. “My tummy is just not right.”

“Aw! I was looking forward to you helping me work out a few kinks on a new dance I just choreographed.”

Ryan formed her lips into a half frown and half pout. “I would have loved that.”