The First Wives Club (33 page)

Dance naked on Madison Avenue. Take a vacation.” She paused, then continued, sounding more serious, “I’m so happy for you, Brenda. You deserve only the best. Now, there is one thing you absolutely must do before you do anything else.” Jesus, Brenda thought. She’s gonna tell me to get an IRA or a CD or one of those damn things. “You have got to go out and get yourself a very expensive, very selfindulgent present.

Not for Angela. Not for Tony. For you. Will you do that?” Annie asked in her very best good-mommy tone.

“Yeah.” Brenda paused, suddenly shy. “Annie, where do you get your shoes?

Those really nice ones?”

”Helene Arpels. They’d look great on you.”

Brenda was touched. “Annie, thank you.” Then she added, “Will you come shopping for them with me?”

“Would l? We’ll make a day of it. Just the two of us.”

Brenda felt her eyes begin to fill. Before she lost it, she hurriedly said, “Thanks, Annie. You’re the first person I thought to tell.”

Gaining back her bravado, she added, “Now, gotta go. Gotta call Elise.

See you round the clubhouse.”

Next she called Elise, who took Brenda by surprise with her excitement.

‘You don’t mean it, Brenda? You really have it? That’s wonderful,” she said, drawing out the first syllable of wonderful. “And you have another check coming, don’t you? Well, good for you. Good for us. It was brave of you to go up against him. I know you didn’t want to go to court, to drag out dirty linen. And I know how threatening bad press can be. You never cease to amaze me, Brenda,” she had added with genuine warmth.

Brenda was moved, but managed to give credit where credit was due.

“And Diana amazes me. I don’t know what I would have done without her.” She realized, as she said it, how very much she meant it.

“What are your plans, Brenda?” Elise asked. “You know, if you invest that money properly, you can get yourself both a tidy little income for the rest of your life and a very small tax bite.” She paused, not wishing to offend, to find the right words. ‘If you like, I could get you investment and tax advice.

I’ve organized my portfolio now. I could help. I mean, if you wanted me to.”’ Brenda was having a good day. Money and friends. “Elise, I would be very grateful if you would do that. Thank you.”

After she hung up, Brenda left her hand resting on the receiver while she took it all in. I have girlfriends, she thought, tentatively adding Diana’s name to the short but distinguished list. Growing up in the Bronx, with her dad busted so often, she had never gotten close to anyone outside the family. “I have girlfriends.” It sounded good out loud.

So good that Brenda shouted, “And another million bucks on the way !”

Two weeks later, just a week before Thanksgiving, Brenda was having a very different conversation on the same telephone.

“Welshed? Are you trying to tell me that prick welshed on our agreement?

Morty’s not going to give me the second payment?” Brenda screamed into the phone to Diana.

“So it would appear, Brenda. I’m sorry. His lawyer said that he doesn’t consider the agreement binding. It’s outrageous.”

“Tell me straight, Diana, so I can understand this. When Leo Gilman tells you, Mr. Cushman no longer considers our agreement binding,’ he’s really saying the prick welshed? Right?”

“Right.” Brenda felt the dampness of her hands, her heart pounding.

But through her rage, she began to sense Diana’s discomfort on the other end of the line and realized how difficult it must be for Diana to make this call.

“You have every right to be furious,” Diana said. “It isn’t a rational decision on Morty’s part. Even Leo Gilman seems surprised.”

“He just couldn’t take it. Seeing his net worth diminish.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Diana, but I’m not mad at you,” Brenda added, lowering her voice. She didn’t want to hurt Diana. “It’s just that I like to call a spade a fucking spade, in the loudest voice I know, just so I get it. So I don’t forget it. I should have known the cheap fuck wouldn’t pay up. I blame myself.”

“Well, I blame myself. I should have pushed for more, and a heftier payment up front. Of course, we’ll sue.”

“Sue, shmoo. It will be a long time before I see another check. Tell you what,” Brenda added, trying to sound cheerful. “How about I take you to lunch today. I’m always more under control when I’m eating.”

”I’d love it. But honestly, Brenda. You don’t have to control yourself around me. I love the way you just let go. What a gift.”

Brenda, pleased, said, “You think so? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Diana made her feel so good, despite the bad news. “Carnegie Deli at one o’clock? And you’ll recognize me immediately. I’ll be the fullfigured gal’ with a corned beef sandwich between my teeth. And steam coming out of both ears.”

At the Deli, Brenda had time to take a table before she saw Diana stride confidently into the restaurant. Something about Diana made her excited, like a girl on her first date or something. She paused and hung her head, not liking the simile, she looked up to find Diana towering over the table.

“I’m not late, am I?”’ Diana asked, glancing both at her watch and the plate of potato salad in front of Brenda.

”Nah, this isn’t lunch. This is just like, you know, pickles on the table.

Something to nosh on while you’re waiting for the real food.”

Diana smiled and nodded, slipping into her seat. As the waitress approached the table, Diana asked Brenda if the fruit salad was fresh here.

Brenda almost choked on the last forkful of potato salad. ‘What, are you crazy?” she asked incredulously. “You’re in a Jewish deli, for chrissakes, with a Jewish food maven.”

”I don’t know much about deli food. What do you suggest?”

Brenda turned to the waitress and without pausing for a breath, reeled off a list of dishes. “Give this shiksa white-meat turkey on rye with Russian dressing, lots of Russian dressing. Even some on the side.

And give her an order of nice fried potatoes, well done, not those white things. And an order of cole slaw.”

To Diana she added in explanation, “We’ll share the slaw.”’ Turning back t4 the waitress, who was expertly getting it all down, she continued, “I’ll have corned beef on rye, not too lean. I hate it dry.

And an order of kasha varnishkas—put some brown gravy on that.”’ Turning to Diana, who was mesmerized by this litany, Brenda asked, “You ever had a knish?” Diana hardly got the word no out before Brenda, rolling her eyes, continued to the waitress, “And to start, let’s have a potato knish each.”

“Where’ve you been? China?”’ Brenda asked Diana. “And don’t worry, you’ll love it,” she assured her. “And two cream sodas. I’d order you a celray, but I don’t want to shock your system. We’lJ start gently.

And yeah, do you have any sour pickles? Really sour. I hate the half-sours. Too much like a fresh vegetable. And those will kill you.

” Diana laughed as the waitress strode away. “I’ll never eat all that food. I’m used to very light lunches, Brenda.”

“Yeah, and look at you. Skin and bone. Anyway,” Brenda continued, “you need your strength to help me deal with Morty, the cheap fuck.

I’m helpless without you. And now we have some money in the war chest.”

And despite her bravado, Brenda knew that she did feel helpless. She paused.

“What am I going to do, Diana?” It wasn’t the money. With a million bucks Brenda didn’t have to worry. But Morty was cheating her. He had another 30 or 40 million. It made her furious. All at once tears sprang to her eyes. Brenda was embarrassed.

Diana reached across the table and placed a comforting hand on Brenda’s.

“Don’t cry, Brenda. We’ll figure out a way. We’ll get him.”

Brenda couldn’t understand why Diana’s gentle hand felt so good on hers. And why she was so moved, and so comforted, by Diana’s saying ‘we.” Why do I feel so good while I feel so bad, she thought, and once again, pushed the confusion from her mind.

“So what do we do now?” she asked, wiping her eyes on the paper napkin and then taking a bite of the knish the waitress had placed before her.

“Do I sue him for it, or do I just give up? And if I accept the fact that it will take years to fight him in court, and maybe lose in the end—who knows?—what do I do then, go for revenge and turn to Uncle Sam? If we really turn him in to the IRS, I still won’t see my money.”

Diana thought for a minute. “You could take him to court, and it could take years. But if you’re worried about the legal fees, I could work on contingency. I feel partly responsible. Let me do it this way, you would only have to pay me if we won. After all, I’m beginning to feel like we’re in this together.”

“Diana, you’re one of the most decent people I have ever met. And just about the only decent lawyer. Thank you.”

Diana smiled and continued, “Of course, you can go for revenge. That’s an emotional payoff you can get sooner, but in my opinion, it doesn’t beat money.”

Brenda wasn’t paying too much attention to the sandwiches that had been placed on the table. She was thoughtful, as if she were about to make one of those important life decisions. Slowly she said, “Diana, what would happen to me if I really turned Morty in to the IRS, with all the documentation they needed?

What would they do to me? I mean, most years they were joint returns.”

Diana shrugged. “I think we need an expert tax attorney on this, Brenda We never meant to actually do it. It was a bargaining chip. We thought it was worth two million, and stock, but it turned out to be worth only a million. At least for now. Let’s give this some thought.

” Brenda nodded and began eating. “Remember my mentioning Elise Elliot to you?

The Elise Elliot? Well, she offered to help me with investment and tax advice.

If anyone has a pipeline to the workings of the IRS, it would be Elise.”

Brenda looked up at Diana. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“We can use all the help we can get,” Diana said. “And by the way, the knish was great. I don’t even remember eating the whole thing.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, kid. I have the same problem myself.

How’s the turkey?”

Diana took a bite and moaned with delight.

“Speaking of food, what are you doing for dinner next Sunday?” Brenda asked.

”Nothing,” Diana admitted.

“So, how about comin’ over to my house. Tony and Angela are going to be home and I’m cooking up a storm. How bout it?”

“I’d love to.”

By the time Brenda got to Duarto’s office, she was confused. How could I go from total depression this morning to feeling so happy this afternoon? she thought. Nothing’s changed. I’m still not going to get what Morty owes me, that’s a fact I accept. So what’s different?

Diana was so kind this afternoon at lunch, she remembered as she began opening that morning’s mail, bills and important correspondence to one side, dropping third-class advertising unopened into the waste basket.

What was it that Diana had said? she thought. ‘Don’t cry, Brenda we’ll figure out a way.” We.

Brenda sat back for a moment, staring into space. “We,” she said aloud. That feels so good, she thought. Maybe even too good. What exactly is going on? She went to the small refrigerator under Duarto’s worktable and took out the box of cream-filled cupcakes she had put there yesterday.

I’m happy when I’m with Diana, that’s what’s going on, she thought.

I’m happy because I feel she cares about me, wants to help me, and doesn’t judge me. So what’s wrong with that? she asked herself.

What’s wrong with being drawn to a woman who offers me kindness and friendship and very real help?

So then what’s the problem? she continued to probe. She took another cupcake from the box and walked to the window that afforded a view of Fifty-eighth Street at Park Avenue. The problem is that I don’t know what I feel, nor what I want, and there is no one I can talk to honestly right now. Not about this, anyway.

Brenda thought of Annie, and their date this evening to meet at the Metropolitan Museum. It wasn’t that she felt Annie couldn’t handle it —she was sure Annie could. That wasn’t it. It was saying the words out loud to someone else. It seemed that once they were said, they were permanent, irrevocable.

No, she thought, I have to go slowly with this. Small steps.

.

Later that evening, Brenda fell into a cane-backed chair in the restaurant at the museum and let out a loud sigh.

Annie, sitting opposite, started to laugh. “Honestly, Brenda. You’ve only walked around for a little over an hour. You’re not that out of shape anymore.”

“It’s not the shape I’m in, it’s the shape my feet are in.” She took off a shoe to massage a foot. “Tony told me about a friend of his that went to France one summer. The kid came back with one of those laser disks he got at the Louvre. It had a picture of every one of the works of art in the museum.

All you had to do is lie on the couch and click a little button on the TV’s remote control to move to the next picture.” Brenda now massaged the other foot. “Those French are sure civilized. Why can’t the Met do that?”

“You’re missing the point, Brenda.”

Before Annie could continue, Brenda raised one hand and said, “Wait, don’t tell me. It’s no pain, no gain.” Right? That’s the point, right? Must have been one of those New England WASPs that coined that one.”

At that moment, the waiter came to the table. “Bring me a pan of hot water and some Epsom salts, and a cup of tea for my friend,” Brenda directed.

“Would that be a large pan of hot water or a small one?” the good-looking young man said, not missing a beat.

Brenda laughed out loud, and so did Annie.

After their tea arrived, Annie leaned forward on her elbows as she spoke to Brenda. “I’m so sorry about Morty backing out of his agreement, Brenda. It’s a rotten thing to do.” She placed her hand gently on Brenda’s “How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’ve been worse. But I’ve been thinking, Annie. You know, life is funny.”

She took a sip of tea and placed the cup gently on its saucer “I never loved Morty, never even thought I loved him. In fact, I never thought it was possible for me to love anyone, anyone else, I mean. I felt love one summer at camp, when I was sixteen.” Brenda paused, not sure if she was going to be more specific, and deciding she had to tell someone something about how she felt.