Power Play: A Novel (4 page)

Liz had a law degree, which she had never used, and a good head for business. But she had opted to stay home for their entire marriage, and their three kids kept her busy. Their older son Tom had been born on their first anniversary, and he was in law school at Boalt now, and doing well. He was a good boy and got on well with his mother, although he had always been competitive with his father, and more so now with age. He had rivaled his father for Liz’s affections when he was little, and had always competed with his father in athletics and every other kind of game. The two men acted like stags in the forest, crashing antlers, confronting each other at every opportunity, which was stressful for all concerned. And as he got older, Tom had been critical of his father and accused him of trying to control everyone. And he was quick to accuse him of dishonesty that Marshall denied and Liz didn’t see. She thought Tom was unreasonably tough on him. And as a result, at twenty-six, Tom came home less often now. He was busy with law school, and whenever he came home, he argued with his father about business, politics, and everything his father stood for. Liz was always trying to calm them down, and explaining each to the other. She had been caught in the middle of their macho rivalry since Tom had been old enough to talk
and challenge his father on every subject. She still thought it would calm down in time, but it hadn’t yet. And she knew that Marshall was proud of his firstborn, but disappointed that Tom’s criticism of him was so vocal.

She heard Marshall bragging about Tom to friends at times, his outstanding grades and achievements, and wished he would express it to their son more often. It was almost a point of pride to Marshall not to say it to Tom, only to others, as though Tom’s academic success enhanced his own achievements, which was something Tom pointed out and complained about to his mother too. He accused his father of being narcissistic, and seeing everyone in his world as an accessory to himself, which Liz denied. But there was no question that the relationship between father and oldest son was not easy. And in some ways they were a lot alike. They were bullheaded and stubborn and unforgiving. What she didn’t like about it was that the tension between them kept Tom from coming home more often. He showed up for dinner sometimes midweek when he knew his father was in L.A. He was tired of arguing with him. He had great respect and admiration for his mother, who he thought was better, smarter, kinder, and more patient than his father deserved. Liz did everything to make Marshall’s life easier for him, in gratitude for all he did for her, and simply because she loved him deeply. Liz had been the perfect wife for twenty-seven years in every possible way. And her oldest son thought too much so and his father didn’t deserve her.

Marshall’s relationship with his second son was infinitely easier. John was the son he had always dreamed of, star athlete, star student, model son. At twenty, John was a junior at Stanford, was on the football team, was getting almost straight A’s, and came home frequently to see his parents. The strife between his father and older
brother was a source of tension between the two brothers as well. John thought his father was a hero, and admired everything he did, and raved about him to his friends. John thought Tom was too hard on their father. Where Tom saw him as a sinner, John viewed him as a saint. The two boys couldn’t have been more different, and John was the light of his father’s life. Marshall took him to football, baseball, and basketball games, and on hunting trips, for male bonding. He offered the same opportunities to Tom, who rarely took him up on them once he was older. Marshall and John had some wonderful times together, which always warmed Liz’s heart. She just wished that her older son would relax and be more open to spending time with his father too, and appreciate him more. She still hoped they would grow closer, and tried to encourage both of them in that direction. But it was clearly easier for Marshall to spend time with his younger son, who adored him unconditionally, and they had a good time together.

The real challenge for both Marshall and Liz at the moment was Lindsay, their sixteen-year-old daughter. She shared none of their ideas, and was constantly at war with both her parents, and she was difficult for Liz too, who had infinite patience with her. Lindsay’s current battle was for a piercing and several tattoos she wanted. She had six piercings in each ear, had gotten a nose ring, which her father had forced her to remove, under threat of restriction for the rest of the year. She had recently become a vegan, and refused to eat with her parents, and said that what they ate disgusted her, and she felt sick to watch them eat it. She had a boyfriend who looked like he’d been shipwrecked and had worn his hair in dreads for the last year. And when she wasn’t seeing him, there were others just like him or worse. Lindsay was nothing Marshall had expected of his
daughter, and Liz constantly reassured him that she’d grow out of it, and he hoped that was true. It was a lot easier for him to go to baseball games with John, or even argue with Tom about politics, than to deal with Lindsay’s constantly rebellious behavior and ideas. She was barely scraping through school, and had been on academic probation for most of the year. She did everything she could to annoy her parents, and argued with her mother every chance she got. Liz was used to it, and tried not to let it upset her, but Marshall admitted to her privately that it drove him crazy and wore him out. Reasoning with her seemed hopeless. She was the most strident dissident note in their otherwise peaceful home life, and it was almost a relief to Marshall when he arrived after work, if he found that Lindsay was out with her friends. The only thing about her that reassured him was that she was not into drugs, but she was incredibly difficult anyway. That would have been the last straw for him. She was hard enough to get along with as it was. The sound of her bedroom door slamming punctuated almost every conversation they had with her. He was used to it by now, but dreaded seeing her at all.

In Marshall’s opinion, Liz was not only the ideal mate and corporate spouse, but an extraordinary mother, and had spent untold hours helping and bringing up their three kids. She never complained about what she had to do alone while he was working, the parent-teacher conferences or school events he didn’t have time for, the social engagements he couldn’t attend because he was at their L.A. office two days a week, or the weekends she had to spend helping him entertain clients from foreign countries, or the parties she had to host to further his career. Liz had signed on wholeheartedly for the role of corporate wife, and he knew he probably told her more than he should have, about upcoming deals or internal secrets,
but she gave him excellent advice and he trusted her opinions completely, and she frequently gave him good ideas that he hadn’t thought of himself. And in the midst of what she did for him and their children, she did volunteer work at a homeless shelter, and served on several committees. She was tireless in her efforts for the community, and had served on the Ross school board, and participated in their children’s activities as well. He couldn’t have had a better wife to help him in his career. Both of them were busy, he with his all-consuming career, and she with their children, the things she did to help him, and the volunteer work that was meaningful to her.

Marshall felt as though they were partners in the life they had built together. It was comfortable, warm, and successful. Liz wasn’t a passionate woman, but she was dedicated, honest, reliable, trustworthy, and intelligent, and everything she committed herself to, she did well. She served as the role model for every corporate wife he knew. And he was proud to have her at his side when he entertained clients or members of the board of UPI. They ran their marriage like a well-run ship, and she had always been content to let him be at the helm. She had no desire to compete with him or have a career of her own. She never regretted the fact that she hadn’t practiced as a lawyer, she just used the knowledge to better understand what Marshall was dealing with every day, while she drove carpool, took the boys to soccer, and Lindsay to art classes and ballet.

Marshall drove into the driveway, parked the Aston Martin in the garage, and let himself into the house through the back door. It was a beautifully designed house with tall ceilings, lovely skylights, a handsome staircase, and antique hardwood floors they’d had brought over from Europe. And the kitchen where he knew he’d find Liz was
state of the art, with long black granite counters and all the appliances that Liz had wanted built in, and a glass atrium where they ate their meals most of the time. They only used the dining room when they entertained.

When Marshall walked into the kitchen, Lindsay was arguing with her mother, as Liz got dinner ready for him, and he could smell something delicious being prepared. The subject of their current battle appeared to be a concert at the Russian River that Lindsay wanted to go to that weekend with friends. Liz had already said no several times, and was sticking to her guns.

“Why not? Everyone else is going!” Lindsay said with a look of outrage, as Marshall walked in and greeted both of them. Lindsay ignored her father, and Liz smiled and leaned toward him for a kiss, and then handed him a glass of white wine, and pushed some raw vegetables and dip in his direction, while Lindsay didn’t miss a beat.

“I already told you,” Liz said calmly. “That’s a heavy drug scene. A lot of unsavory people go there. I don’t want you to go.” Liz appeared perfectly calm, as Marshall sipped his wine and took in the familiar scene.

“We go for the music, Mom, not the drugs.” In her case, that was true.

“I’m happy to hear it. You still can’t go. Figure out something else to do this weekend. Besides, you have SATs next week, and you need to study for them this weekend. They really count this year, for your college applications in the fall.”

“You know I’m taking a gap year when I graduate,” Lindsay said in a dismissive tone, and Marshall looked surprised.

“Since when?”

“I’ve been saying that all year. You never listen,” Lindsay said with
a disgusted look, as Liz took a roast out of the oven, and Lindsay made a face.

“I listen, but I haven’t agreed to a gap year. I think that’s a bad idea.” With a kid like Lindsay, who hated school anyway, he was afraid she’d never go back for college. And academic achievement was important in their family. Both her brothers had done well in school, and still were, at Stanford and Boalt.

Lindsay looked at him with total disgust then, and flounced out of the room. The familiar sound of her door slamming was heard a moment later, as Liz carved the roast beef, which looked like a page in a gourmet magazine. Lindsay had already eaten and couldn’t stand the sight of red meat.

“I don’t know how you deal with her all day,” Marshall said with an irritated look.

“She’ll outgrow it. It’s all pretty typical stuff at her age.” Liz looked undisturbed by the exchange with Lindsay, and smiled at him. “How was your day?”

“Interesting,” he said, happy to see her. She was like coming home to an old friend, his best friend for twenty-seven years. “The market was up, which always helps.”

“I saw that.” She mentioned a business scandal in the news then, and a CEO they both knew who had been accused of insider trading by the SEC. Liz was up on all the business news as soon as it happened, and it was interesting to talk about with her.

As usual, she had set the table herself with fresh linens, and he could see from her still-damp hair that she had just taken a shower, and she had put on an immaculate white shirt and perfectly pressed jeans. She still had the fresh girl-next-door looks that she’d had when he married her. She had straight blond shoulder-length hair,
she very seldom wore makeup, except when they went out, and her graceful hands had short, trimmed nails. Her one indulgence was manicures and pedicures every week, and she wore bright red polish on her toes.

The meat was cooked exactly the way he liked it, with fresh steamed vegetables. She was careful to feed him a healthy diet and make sure he didn’t put on weight, and it was like coming home to a restaurant every night, with all his favorite foods. He hardly even noticed it anymore, but he loved the way she cooked. She had learned that for him too, along with conversational French and Spanish so she could talk to his foreign clients. They were always impressed by how proficient she was, as was he. She even knew a few phrases of Japanese and Chinese. Whatever Liz undertook, she did with an eye to helping him.

They were halfway through dinner when Liz mentioned the film festival she wanted to go to the next day. She knew that cultural events weren’t his favorite activity, but once in a while she could convince him to go with her. Marshall preferred business-related events. He was all about his work, and usually so was she, but she enjoyed other things too, with a broader scope.

“I have tickets for tomorrow, in the city. What do you think?” she asked with a hopeful look, and he was quick to shake his head.

“I’m going to L.A. tomorrow. I need an extra day down there this week. We’ve had some problems in the office, and I think they need the big guns to help resolve them, so I’m going down a day early. Why don’t you take a friend?” he suggested, looking relieved. He spent every Wednesday and Thursday in their L.A. office, and had for the past ten years. When they were younger, it gave her time to do things with the kids, and they were used to it by now. He left on
Wednesday mornings and came back on Friday nights, in time to do whatever they had planned for the weekend, although he was always tired after his two days in L.A., and liked staying home on Friday nights. “By the way,” he added, “I’ve got Japanese clients coming in this weekend. I’ll play golf with them on Saturday and Sunday, and I thought we could take them to dinner on Saturday night.”

“Do you want to entertain them here?” She had a good caterer she used for important evenings, so she could pay full attention to their guests.

“The Japanese like fancy restaurants, and they’re bringing their wives. I thought maybe Gary Danko, or the Ritz. Besides, that’s less work for you.” He smiled at her as she cleared the table, and served him fresh fruit for dessert. “Sorry about the film festival,” he said with a slightly guilty look and she laughed. She knew him well.