The Sins of the Mother (22 page)

She called Peter’s cell phone with a shaking hand, and he answered immediately with a worried tone.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I am,” she said firmly, determined to be, despite her son’s tantrum and his accusations and low opinion of her. What mattered was how she viewed herself, and she knew she had done the closest thing to right she could, for all concerned. “He’ll get over it. He’s a very rigid person, and he has a loveless marriage. It makes him harsh and unreasonable about everyone else. And he has a lot of old scores to settle with me, and grudges he can’t resolve. In a way, this has nothing to do with you. It’s just an opportunity for him to stay angry at me.” She knew him well.

“I’m sorry I ran out on you. I felt bad leaving, but I didn’t think you wanted me there while you talked to him.”

“I didn’t,” she confirmed. “You did the right thing.”

“What did he say?”

“A lot of very ugly things. He wanted to know if I cheated on his father, and of course I didn’t. Maybe it was good for him to hear. And he’s old enough to know what’s going on with us. He’s nearly fifty—at his age he ought to be able to accept human frailty in others. If he can’t, he’ll never be able to forgive himself for anything. Someone once said that being grown up is being able to accept your parents as they are. The trouble is that most of us don’t grow up in that sense. We want our parents to be perfect and live up to our ideals. Our children want us to forgive them unconditionally for their mistakes, but they don’t want to forgive us anything. At some point that no longer works. Phillip has some hard lessons ahead of him. Cass is the same way. She’s never forgiven me anything, particularly not being there when her father died. I blamed myself for that too, and I spent years thinking that he might have survived if I’d been there. He wouldn’t have, and there are other mistakes I’ve made. But this isn’t one of them. We’re not hurting anyone, Peter, as long as your marriage is intact, and you’re not hurting Emily with this, and I don’t believe you are.”

“She’s been an alcoholic for more than thirty years,” he said sadly. “We’re not stealing anything from her. Our marriage was over long before you came along.” It was what he had always told her, and she believed him. But he sounded worried anyway, about Olivia, and her son’s attack. It was hard being lambasted by your children, and he felt sorry for her. His own had no idea that he was involved with Olivia, although they knew their parents were married in form only. His daughter had urged him to get a divorce years before, but he felt a responsibility for Emily, and his son turned a blind eye to what was going on but he knew how sick his mother was. She had destroyed their family when the children were young, getting drunk at their school events, not showing up, or passing out when their friends were there. She had been a humiliation to them all their lives, and they respected their father for staying with her. It was easier for them in some ways. He was always there to take care of her, so they didn’t have to.

“Do you want me to come by tonight?” Peter asked her gently, and Olivia smiled.

“Yes, I do,” Olivia said honestly, “not just because of this. I missed you while I was gone.” They usually spent a night or two together every week. He had nothing to explain to Emily. She didn’t know if he was there or not. They had had separate bedrooms for twenty years, and there was a housekeeper to keep an eye on her. He offered no explanations, he just left, and could be reached on his cell phone at all times.

“I missed you too. I’ll come at eight.” It was six-thirty by then. They both had a few things to finish up in their offices, and it would take him an hour to get to Bedford. She’d arrive at about the same time. She had no live-in help. And no one ever knew when he spent the night. It worked perfectly for them. He always left before her daily housekeeper arrived. Olivia knew that she suspected, but had no idea who Olivia’s occasional nighttime visitor was. They had managed to maintain total discretion for ten years, until tonight. It was unfortunate that Phillip had discovered them, but it wasn’t a tragedy. It was evidence of her humanity. Now Phillip’s ability to be human, and adult, remained to be seen.

“See you at eight,” Olivia said quietly. “Drive carefully. I love you, Peter,” she reminded him, and he smiled.

“I love you too. See you soon,” he said, and they hung up. Olivia left her unfinished files on her desk. She was tired tonight. It had been a long day. And the altercation with Phillip had worn her out. She might not look it, and everyone said she didn’t, but she felt every minute of her age tonight.

A few minutes later she picked up her handbag and briefcase and turned out the lights in her office. She was looking forward to seeing Peter.

Phillip waited until he was in his car to call his brother. He had thought about what to do about what he’d discovered. He thought the others should know. He knew what a bleeding heart Liz was, and she’d probably think it was touching or romantic. He didn’t. And he hadn’t spoken to his sister Cass in years. But he wanted to tell John. He was sure he’d be as outraged as Phillip was. And Phillip didn’t buy the story that she’d been faithful to their father. He wondered now if that was why Cass looked so different from the rest of them. Maybe that was why Olivia had never been home. Maybe she’d been screwing around for years. Who knew what had really gone on? He felt sick when he thought of finding her kissing Peter. They had looked passionate as they embraced. Phillip’s stomach turned over when he remembered it. It was seven o’clock when he drove home, one in the morning in Paris. He called John at the Ritz, where he was staying with Sarah and Alex. His brother sounded sleepy when he answered.

“Something wrong?” John asked his brother quickly. Their grandmother was ninety-five, after all, and their mother was now ten years older than their father when he died. He was always afraid of something happening to them, or his wife or son. But they were in Paris with him, so he knew it wasn’t them. And a business crisis was always possible too. “Are you okay?” John asked, sitting up in bed, as he turned on the light. Sarah was sound asleep, dead to the world.

“No, I’m not. And you won’t be either when I tell you what’s going on.”

“Shit. Granibelle or Mom?” Phillip was hitting his worst fears, and John hadn’t picked up on the anger in his voice.

“Our mother. She’s having an affair with Peter Williams. She has been for ten years, or so she says. Who knows how long it’s been going on, or if she cheated on Dad before that, when she was never home.” It was a lot to absorb all at once, as John tried to sort through what he was saying.

“Mom’s having an affair?” It sounded unlikely to him.

“Yes, she is,” Phillip confirmed in an undertaker’s voice.

“How do you know?”

“I found them wrapped around each other in her office, when I walked in on them an hour ago.”

“They were having sex in her office?” John sounded stunned.

“No, they were kissing,” Phillip said precisely. He would have had a heart attack if they’d been making love. “She admitted the affair to me after that. He left, and she and I had a talk about it. And he’s married, if you’ll recall.”

“Yeah, I remember that. He’s a nice guy, though. At least he’s not some fortune hunter thirty years younger than she is.” He knew their mother was too sensible for that, but he was actually surprised to hear that she was romantically involved. He thought all she cared about was her work. He thought it was kind of nice to know that that wasn’t the case and she was human after all. Their father had been gone for nearly fifteen years—the anniversary was coming up shortly. That was a long time to be alone. “Is it serious?”

“Of course it’s serious. He’s married. How much more serious can it get than an affair with a married man? And for ten years. Imagine if the press gets hold of that.”

“The press isn’t going to care who she’s sleeping with,” John said sensibly. “They don’t report affairs in the business section of
The New York Times
. She has a right to do what she wants. She has a right to be happy, Phillip. She carries a hell of a lot on her shoulders. She’s had no one to support her in that since Dad. He helped her a lot, and now she’s all alone.”

“Bullshit. She has us,” Phillip said, sounding pompous, as John thought about it.

“Not really. We work for her, but we don’t support her. When the shit hits the fan, she’s the one it hits, and she works it out on her own. Did you get in a big fight with her about it?” John suspected that he had, and he was sorry for her. Phillip was always so critical of her, and so was Cass. They never forgave her anything from the past, and this was just the kind of ammo Phillip would use against her to prove all his old theories about how bad she was.

“Yes, I did,” Phillip admitted without remorse.

“Did you actually accuse her of cheating on Dad? An affair she got into four years after he died is hardly proof of infidelity in their marriage.” John sounded upset as he asked his older brother the question. Their mother didn’t deserve to be beaten up for having a discreet affair. And if she’d been involved with Peter for ten years, none of them had ever known, which was proof of how discreet she was.

“As a matter of fact, I did accuse her of that. It shows she has no morals, which casts a shadow on everything.”

“That’s ridiculous,” John said, annoyed at him. “How immoral is it for two people in their sixties, and now her seventies, to have an affair? And so what if he’s married? That’s unfortunate for them, but it has nothing to do with her life with Dad, Phillip. They were crazy about each other, and she was madly in love with him. We always knew that. And if she has someone in her life now, I’m happy for her. No one wants to die alone.”

“Nor in the arms of someone else’s husband. She should be better than that.” He had high standards for her, more so than John.

“She’s human, for chrissake. She still looks great. She looks young for her age. Why not? Why not have some comfort in her life, and a little love? He’s obviously not ditching his wife if they’ve been involved for ten years and he’s still married to her.” It was the sensible point of view, and the humane one, which Phillip didn’t share.

“You sound just like her,” Phillip said angrily. “What’s wrong with all of you? Does no one in this family have any standards? I suppose you think our grandmother should be turning tricks on Long Island so she doesn’t have to die alone either?” He was furious with John for not joining in the fight of outraged virtue with him. He was turning it into a crusade, but John was not signing up.

“Give it up,” John said, sounding exhausted. He had been asleep when his brother woke him. “This is her life, not ours. We all work it out the best way we can. She has a right to make her own mistakes, if this is one, but I’m not convinced it is. The only thing I am convinced of is that it’s none of our business. As long as she’s not embarrassing us or herself, or screwing on her office floor with the door open, or at a board meeting, I don’t need to know about it, and neither should you. You happened on it, like opening a door and seeing something you shouldn’t. This has nothing to do with us. Or with Dad. Now close the door and forget about it. You’re only going to cause unnecessary trouble for everyone if you make a big issue about this.”

“I can see you inherited her morality, or lack of it,” Phillip said coldly.

“It’s not up to us to judge her ‘morality,’ or decide who she should have affairs with or if she should. And she isn’t cramming Peter down our throats. I respect her for keeping quiet about it. And I think you need to back off. It’s only going to upset you, and her, unnecessarily. Find something else to bitch about. Now I’m going back to sleep. It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning. I’ll be home on Sunday, but I’m not going to get on this bandwagon with you. And if she’s having a hot romance or a love affair at seventy, good for her!” John said with feeling.

“You’re as big a fool as she is,” Phillip said, and hung up on him without another word. He had expected his brother to share his opinion and his outrage. He hadn’t expected him to support her. And as John lay in bed at the Ritz in Paris, he was smiling, thinking about it. He liked Peter Williams. And he loved his mother, and if Peter was making her happy, what the hell. He turned over in bed and put an arm around Sarah. He wasn’t sure if he was going to tell her, out of respect for his mother, but he knew that if he did, she would agree with him. He thought Phillip was all wrong on this one, just as he was about a lot of things.

Chapter 13

P
eter arrived in Bedford at eight-thirty instead of eight o’clock. The traffic had been heavy, it was Friday night, and people were heading out of the city for the weekend. Olivia had a platter of cold meats and a salad waiting for him with a chilled bottle of wine, and he put his arms around her and kissed her as soon as he walked through the door.

“What a day!” he said, looking worried and exhausted. He was still upset about Phillip walking in on them, and his verbal attack on his mother. “I’m so sorry, darling. Are you all right?”

“Actually, I’m fine,” she said, looking surprised as she poured him a glass of wine. They went out on her patio, looking over the well-manicured gardens, and sat down. It was a pretty house. It was a good size, but not enormous. She had moved there after Joe died, once the children were all grown and her mother had moved to the senior residence. It was an easy home for her, beautifully decorated with elegant antiques and paintings she and Joe had collected over the years. It suited her, and Peter was always comfortable there. His own house had the sad look now of a place where people had been unhappy and disconnected for a long time. He hated going home, but he always loved being here, with her. It was welcoming and warm, like her.

“I don’t know how Phillip turned into the morality police. I think he’s unhappy in his marriage. Amanda is such a social climber, and so cold. I don’t think she’d ever have married him if he didn’t have money and wasn’t going to run the business one day. She probably can’t wait for me to retire or drop dead. She wasn’t a lot of fun on the trip—she never is. And she’s icy cold with him. He doesn’t seem to mind.” She wanted more than that for him, but it was up to him. He had made his choice and seemed satisfied with it.