The War of the Roses: The Children (17 page)

Her mind was rife with speculation and annoyance. She walked up the stairs and checked the fashion plates and other knickknacks that were scattered throughout the house.

Everything seemed intact until she went into the spare room, which she had cursorily inspected earlier. This was the room she had given her mother. She had hung three fashion plates on the walls and one was clearly missing, since the outline could be seen on the wall. She hadn't noticed it before.

What she had discovered was both curious and disturbing, and when her mother returned from the supermarket she discussed it with her.

“Why would anyone want to steal them?” Mrs. Stewart asked. Victoria knew she was offering an opinion just short of saying what she really meant, namely that the knickknacks in her collection were, to her mother's way of thinking, merely junk.

“Because, Mother, despite your opinion, they had value. Even the fashion plate that is missing from your room.”

“So that's it. Your mother's a thief.”

“I hadn't noticed it before,” Victoria said, ignoring her mother's remark.

“Why would I want it?”

“Mother, stop it. I'm not accusing you.”

“Maybe it was the work of your wonderful Josh,” her mother speculated sarcastically.

“Why would he do that?”

Mrs. Stewart shrugged. “Spite.”

“Don't be ridiculous. What would be the point?”

“Get you riled up.” Her mother inspected her. “Like you are now.”

“Mother, don't.”

“Just a thought. He attacks the material things you care about. Runs in the family,” her mother said, winking, as she directed her attention to emptying the bags of groceries.

Victoria went back into the den, inspecting it yet again. She directed her attention to the leather-bound books by Victorian authors. The books were by Dickens, Thackeray, Hardy, Goldsmith, Trollope, and others. She had always tended them with great care, treating the leather and dusting them periodically. She counted the various volumes. In each set, one book was missing. She checked them three times. Every book had been in sequence, the volume numbers marked on the spines.

There was no pattern to the missing numbers. In one set Volume Two was missing, in another Volume Eleven, in another Volume Four. Books were valued by complete sets, and missing a volume considerably reduced the value of the set.

She did not bring this information to her mother's attention since it could validate her suspicion that spite might, indeed, be involved. At that moment, she did not want to deal with her mother's smug surety. She felt heartsick about such a possibility. However he had betrayed her, she could not conceive of Josh as spiteful. Such conduct could completely destroy their attempt to properly share the rearing of their children. Dismissing such a possibility, she fixated on the person he had hired to help him during his two-week tenure.

***

At dinner that night, Victoria tried to subtly probe the children about the person Josh had selected. Not wanting to upset them, she avoided any mention of the thefts.

“What kind of a person was she?” Victoria asked casually.

“Very nice,” Michael muttered without interest.

“Young, old?”

“I don't know,” Michael shrugged looking at his sister. “Medium.”

“Medium,” Mrs. Stewart chuckled. “What does that mean?”

“Plain medium,” Michael said.

“When she went home, did she carry things?” Mrs. Stewart asked.

The children exchanged glances and shook their heads.

“We never saw,” Michael said.

“No, Mommy, we never saw,” said Emily.

When the telephone rang the children rushed to the phone.

“When you're finished, tell Daddy I'd like to speak with him,” Victoria called to Michael. As usual, Emily used the kitchen phone.

“Above all, I don't want a confrontation,” Victoria whispered to her mother.

“Good luck,” her mother sneered.

The children talked to their father for what seemed an inordinately long time. Then Michael summoned her and she went into the kitchen to take the call, making sure the children had gone back to the table.

“Everything seems to be going well with the kids,” Josh said. His tone struck her as icy.

“Yes fine, Josh,” Victoria said drawing in a deep breath.

“I read your papers,” Josh said. “Your concept of fairness leaves much to be desired.”

“Not now, Josh. I have something else to ask you.”

She told him about her discovery of all the missing things.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Makes no sense,” Josh said after a long silence.

“Could it be the person you hired?”

“Who?”

“The person you hired.”

“No way.” He seemed irritated.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I'm sure. Believe me. Why would anyone want to take those things? One book from each set. Ink wells. Vases. Fashion plates. The one in the spare room. Are you hallucinating, Victoria?”

“I'll ignore that remark,” she said coldly. “Just take my word for it.”

“Look, Victoria,” Josh said, “I don't know anything about this. Frankly it sounds… well… ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” she said, her voice rising. “Something is definitely wrong here. I hope….” She tried calming herself, measuring her words. “I hope this is not some kind of spitefulness on your part, Josh.”

“Spitefulness!” Josh shouted. “What are you talking about?”

“It's perfectly natural, Josh,” she replied angrily. “You've got to admit that your credibility is certainly suspect.”

“I don't believe this,” Josh cried.

“It's not such a leap of faith,” Victoria said, feeling her insides heave with anger, “to jump from fornicator to thief.”

“I guess not. Jesus, you sound just like your mother,” Josh said after a long pause. “Where will I go from there, Victoria? Embezzlement? Drug smuggling? Perhaps rape, pillage, even murder? Have you checked to see if there's a mustache painted over the lip of Queen Victoria? Now that's a crime for you. Can't you see how ridiculous your accusations are?”

“Maybe we should drop the subject,” Victoria said, feeling suddenly foolish. Emotion was clouding her judgment.

“Amen.”

“The fact is, these items are missing,” Victoria said.

“Meaning I'm not off the hook.”

“Meaning that you keep a watchful eye on your help or whoever else comes into the house.”

“Whatever you say.”

“We'll talk again,” she said.

“Fine.”

After she hung up, she realized that nothing had been resolved, that she was as much in the dark as ever.

The question kept reoccurring. Why not spite? A man who could keep an illicit love affair a secret for six months was capable of anything. Subjecting her to confusion and uncertainty could be quite gratifying to an antagonist. He could derive great pleasure from observing her aggravation.

On Sunday, Victoria was to turn over the house to Josh. She helped her mother pack. Despite occasional lapses in which she would unleash her poisonous tongue, Mrs. Stewart did seem to gain the children's confidence. She drove them to their respective after-school activities, took them to the movies, and generally behaved grandmotherly, at least to the limit of her capability.

“I hope you'll come again when my turn rolls around,” Victoria asked when she was ready to go.

“Didn't I play the Gramma part well? Of course I will.”

They embraced and her mother waved good-bye and got into a taxi.

***

When Josh showed up at the house, the children embraced him eagerly, perhaps more eagerly than they had embraced her when she had arrived two weeks ago. Tamping down her jealousy, she noted to herself that they had been very affectionate during her two weeks' stay, often hugging and kissing and telling her frequently how much they loved her. After their few moments of greeting, the children went up to their rooms.

“Remember the rule, children,” Victoria called after them. “Listen to your dad.”

“Of course they will,” Josh said. “Anything I should know?” He did not offer much eye contact.

“No problems,” she said. “The children were well-behaved and from all indications both seem to be doing well at school.”

“Good.”

“I bought them some new outfits. They seem to be filling out fast. Not to worry. I bought them on my dime.”

“How generous.”

His sarcasm seemed pointed and she tried changing the subject.

“No problems at the office?”

“None.”

“Good.” She paused, then tried to get off the next question casually. “Did you go over the divorce papers?”

“Not now, Victoria.”

“I told you to get a lawyer, Josh. A lawyer can explain how I reached my conclusions on the settlement.”

“I intend to.”

Noting his tight-faced reaction, she said: “I don't want this to get contentious.”

“I'm trying, Victoria.”

She sucked in a deep breath.

“On that other matter.”

“Must we?”

“I'm not imagining things, Josh. Let me show you.”

He made a face and with obvious reluctance followed her into the den. She showed him the books first. He looked at them with little interest. Then she pointed to the end table and the mantelpiece.

“They were there. There are two inkwells and one vase missing, and in the spare room there is a fashion plate gone. You can still see the outline of where it was hung.”

“Look, Victoria,” he said impatiently. “I'd rather concentrate on getting the kids set. I don't know what happened to those pieces. Furthermore, I don't care. As far as I'm concerned, you can take them with you.”

She was stunned by his sudden belligerence.

“This does not bode well,” she snapped.

“No it doesn't.”

“Somebody took them.”

“Call in the house dick.”

“This is not funny, Josh.”

“Do you see me laughing?”

“How well do you know this person that is helping you with the children?”

“Not that again.”

“I'd like to pursue that angle, before raising the other.”

“Jesus, Victoria.”

“All right. All right,” she said raising her hands palms up. “But I'd strongly suggest that you watch her carefully.”

“Who's going to watch you?” he retorted.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that maybe this is all a ploy to further discredit me.”

“Believe me, Josh. I don't need a ploy for that. Don't try to make me the culprit here, Josh. I'm the victim remember? The betrayed, faithful wife.”

“I guess I'll be paying for that for the rest of my life,” Josh sighed.

“I hope so.”

He shook his head and turned away.

“Will you help me load the car?”

He nodded and went up to the room they had once shared. As he had done two weeks earlier, he loaded the Lexus.

“The kids know their schedule. I'll call them every night.”

She got into the car, started it, and lowered the window. He had started to go into the hallway, but her voice stopped him.

“Note, Josh. Only
my
things were stolen. Not yours. Why is that, do you suppose?”

She rolled up the window and drove the car out of the garage.

The past two weeks had been a trial for Josh. He had slept badly on Evie's couch, which meant he would arrive at his office in a state of irritation, adding to the tension of his job. For the sake of his digestion, he took most of his meals out, much to his sister's consternation. Two weeks a month was as much of her food as he could take.

So far there had been no signs of repercussions. Angela had officially turned in her resignation in writing and, as far as the agency was concerned, it appeared to be a closed matter. He did wonder about how she had fared with her husband, but he managed to push the thought from his mind. Their entanglement had been a disaster for both of them.

As much as he adored his sister and her lavish generosity, there was no question that he would have to get his own place, which reminded him of the matter of expense. It could not be avoided. He and Victoria would have to maintain three separate domiciles.

“You've been wonderful, Evie, but living here won't work.”

“I understand, Josh.”

“Besides, you need to have your own private life.”

“I'm perfectly content the way it is, Josh. I like being around you and, of course, I love it when I'm with the children.”

He wondered how long this situation would last. To make matters worse, he had finally read the divorce papers. She had allocated to him thirty-five percent of their assets as a settlement. The net worth of the percentages was to be determined by an independent accountant. Nevertheless, the uneven split was patently unfair. She had allocated sixty-five percent to herself on the grounds that she had lost out on her career path by being a full-time mother and, therefore, was entitled to more as “compensation.”

“No fucking way,” he cried aloud when he finished reading her so-called “fair” papers, which he flung across the room in anger.

A single interview with a lawyer, a Harriet Franken, confirmed his misgivings.

“You need a nut-cutter,” an old friend who had had a divorce told him. His friend had recommended Franken, a hard-boiled little woman with dyed red hair and a deep masculine voice.

“The fuck she will,” Franken said when she had finished reading the papers. He had filled her in on his affair with Angela but had omitted all references to the Bocci settlement. “Your wife has set you up, Mr. Rose.”

“I just want everything to be fair,” Josh had muttered. He detested the woman lawyer on sight.

“Fair!” Franken exclaimed. “According to these papers, you've been castrated. She can't take the house just because it's in her name. The court will rule it's community property and the split she suggests is outrageous. Also, she's got you paying the whole load on custody. Screw her.” She studied him over her half-glasses. “Don't be a
nebbish
, Rose. You'll live to regret it.”

“I don't want the children to be hurt.”

“Then don't get divorced,” Franken sighed.

“She's the one that wants out.”

“Can you blame her?”

“It was an aberration. I was stupid.”

“Not stupid, Mr. Rose. You let your cock rule your brain.”

Josh was startled by the roughness of her language.

“I love my wife and family,” he sighed.

“Listen to me, Rose,” Franken said. “You're an adulterer, especially in the eyes of the family court judge. We might be able to negotiate a reasonable settlement, considering that it's your wife who wants out. As the main money person in the family, she'll probably hide some assets. You might have to pay for a forensic accountant. In any event, prepare yourself for some screwing and lots of contention. You say she's a lawyer handling her own case. Tough shit for you. She could make it expensive on your end. But custody will be tricky. She'll paint you as a man who puts pussy before parenting.”

“But I don't. And she knows I love my children.”

“All the better, from her point of view. It's the only weapon she has to punish you with for the betrayal.”

“But she believes in fathers having a strong role.” He told her about Victoria's rearing with an absent father and an embittered mother.

“Double bind, Mr. Rose,” the lawyer explained. “She doesn't trust you. And she probably hates her father for deserting her. At the same time she knows the kids need a daddy. She's on the horns of her own dilemma. I know the drill. We have to use it in our psychological warfare.”

“Do you think this so-called bird nesting will work?” he asked, frightened by the prospects ahead.

“Don't bank on it, Mr. Rose. It could get too competitive.”

He nodded, unwilling to elicit any further explanation. The whole process was demeaning. He felt her studying him.

“Divorce is a dreary business. Nobody wins. The best case scenario is a draw.” She lifted a finger and waved it in his face. “Advice. On the money and property angle, don't fold your cards too soon. I'll get you close to fair. As for the kids, don't let it get sticky. Money, after all, is a replaceable resource. Kids aren't. The majority are fucked by divorce. I'm sorry to say this. But I've seen too much pain in this racket.” She slapped the desk. “There. I've done my good lawyer's job of trying to talk you out of it.”

“I hate this,” Josh said, standing up. She put out her hand and he took it.

“It's a living,” she said, offering a shrug. “Think about it.”

He moved toward the door, but her voice recalled him.

“Take yourself in hand, Mr. Rose. It'll be a lot cheaper.”

He didn't laugh.

***

Later, Josh and Evie went through the refrigerator and the cupboards to remove whatever foods Victoria had purchased that were subject to spoilage.

“This isn't real food,” Evie said as she removed containers of skim milk and packages of fat-free cheeses, sour cream and margarine from the refrigerator, and threw them into a plastic bag to be consigned to garbage.

“Imagine the food industry selling these ersatz products under the false idea that it is actually food,” she railed. “Where is the nutrition? Where is the caloric content? They might as well package sawdust.”

She evangelized so often about the joy and comfort of food that he no longer found it in his heart to contradict her or openly criticize her obesity as a health risk.

“Food creates an attitude, Josh. Bad food, a bad attitude. Good food, a good attitude. A good attitude means a higher quality of life. If longevity suffers, and there is some reason for doubt, so be it. One day someone may even offer conclusive scientific proof that fat in food is healthier than no fat.”

Considering the happy state of her mental health and her joyful attitude toward life, he would often speculate that there might be a lot to say for the quality of, perhaps, a shorter life of sensual pleasures than a longer one of deprivation and self-discipline.

After one of Evie's usual dinner ceremonies, and when the children had finally gone to sleep, the two of them sat in the den. He had poured out a brandy for himself and a crème de menthe for Evie. He hadn't talked to her about Victoria's proposed settlement, but he had mentioned the strange disappearances she was alleging.

“She has two suspects in mind. One is the so-called help,” Josh explained, chuckling.

“Meaning me?”

“She doesn't know it's you, Evie.”

He found it strangely gratifying that the children had apparently kept their secret about Aunt Evie. He knew firsthand the insidious pressure of keeping secrets.

“But what is missing is, nevertheless, missing,” Evie said, sipping her crème de menthe.

“I'm not so sure I'm ready to buy that yet,” Josh said, upending his brandy. “It could have happened a while ago. They could have been misplaced, broken. The kids' friends could have done it in some roughhouse way. She might have forgotten. As for the fashion plate in the spare room, she probably hadn't been in there in a couple of years. She also might have taken the objects herself.”

“Why would she do that?”

“So she could accuse me. I'm the other suspect.”

“You!” Evie exclaimed, pouring herself another crème de menthe.

“Spitefulness is the way she put it. I didn't quite understand what she meant at first. She cited Mom and Dad. Doing things to each other for pure spite. It's ironic.” He shook his head. “The fact is I had this urge to smash some of her precious pieces. I really did. But I managed to contain it.” He picked up one of the inkwells, then quickly replaced it. “I'd break them all if I had the guts.”

“Poor Josh,” Evie sighed.

“Anyway.” He shook off his gloom, reached out, and took his sister's soft fleshy hand. “Thank God I have you, Evie.”

As during his first two weeks of bird nesting, the household operated in a similar routine. Josh went to the office while Evie supervised the home. Evie continued to cook her elaborate meals. The children loved them, especially the desserts. Evie was a marvel. She made soufflés every night, of every variety, vanilla, chocolate, orange, praline, almonds, and whatever else struck her fancy.

She made mousses and custards and all types of molds. Often, they would have two desserts at dinner. Sometimes she would actually cook two main dishes, poultry, fish, or meat. What she did with eggs and potatoes were works of art. The house was never free from delicious cooking scents, and there were always plates of exotic cookies available at all times.

To cope with all the rich food, Josh kept a secret cache of prescription antacids within easy reach, a fact that he would never dare reveal to Evie. The children, on the other hand, never seemed to falter, their young digestive systems able to cope without discomfort with Evie's cooking repertoire. Watching them revel happily in her creations, he could be convinced that her theories on food might have more merit than he had earlier speculated.

The children appeared to thrive on the program. Or so he assured himself. They ate whatever they wanted, went to bed at all hours, and lived without any of the constrictions their mother had laid down. It amazed him how smoothly they moved from one plan to the other.

Then, a few days before Josh's two weeks were up, his own observations about the children's so-called adjustment was called into question. Emily brought home an alarming school report, her progress rendered by comment rather than by grades.

“Emily seems to have lost interest in school,” the teacher's report read. “She has also lost her concentration and is not as friendly and cooperative with both teachers and her fellow students as she had been earlier in the term. Her reading skills seem to have deteriorated lately as well. In general, I would say that more help at home is warranted.”

Josh was shocked and Emily was embarrassed by the report. Josh soothed her by blaming everything on the circumstances of her parents' separation. He assured her that once the tension passed and they had all made the emotional adjustment to the new circumstances, she would regain the will to study and get better grades. But he did insist that she read the teacher's comments to her mother over the phone. Victoria, as he had expected, asked to speak with Josh.

“I hope you didn't scold her,” Josh said.

“I did tell her that I was disappointed,” Victoria said.

“I would have preferred you didn't,” Josh said. “It was completely predictable.”

“Is she very upset?”

“Of course she is. Who wouldn't be? Her regression is obviously a consequence of what's happening between us.”

“It's just one more thing we'll have to deal with, Josh.”

“Yeah,” Josh muttered. “One more thing.”

It turned out to be two more things. Michael, too, presented him with a terrible report card. It was Saturday, the day before Josh was to relinquish the house to Victoria. Josh noted that Michael had held off a full day before showing it to him.

“Why didn't you show it to me yesterday?”

“I was scared and Emily had just got hers.”

“I see the point,” Josh said gloomily looking over the report. “This is surprising,” he said. Michael had flunked both math and science, which had been his best subjects.

“I guess I screwed up, Dad.”

“Everyone is allowed at least one screwup,” Josh said gently. Although he was genuinely alarmed, he thought it best, as he had advised Victoria, not to show too much disappointment.

“Should I tell Mom when she calls tonight or wait until tomorrow?”

“I'd suggest you tell her tonight. After all, you did get the report on my watch. I wouldn't want her to show up and get a big surprise.”

“I guess she'll be pissed, especially after Emily.”

“I hope not,” Josh said diplomatically. “We all know this is just temporary. You're a smart kid. You'll get back on track.”

Later, after hearing about Michael's report, Victoria asked to speak with Josh.

“It's a double whammy, Josh,” she said with obvious irritation.

“It is very incongruous, Victoria.”

“Incongruous, Josh? That is a very odd comment.”

“He does his homework. He's not withdrawn or depressed. He seems happy and content. I don't understand it.”

“It could be a form of protest,” Victoria said. “For both of them.”

“Maybe. How would you propose to handle that?” Josh asked, hoping she would see it as a challenge.

“I don't know. We're certainly giving them more than most parents in this situation.”

“If you say so,” Josh mused bitterly.

“Maybe they need a good talking to. Both of them.”

“As of tomorrow, you're in charge.”

“Josh, this has to be a joint decision.”

“My take on it is that they've got enough on their plate without further scolding. They know they blew it.”

“It simply is not acceptable.”

“You're telling me. If Michael keeps going down like this, Pendleton could choose to let him go. Their standards are pretty high.”