Wellesley Wives (New England Trilogy) (15 page)

“I know, but to the rest of the sane world, they were crazy. Anyway, I remember trying to talk sense into you but it was impossible, and then I don’t know where I was—Hong Kong, I think—and I saw this cute little ostrich stuffed animal.”

“I still have it, you know.”

“Do you? That’s great. Maybe you need to pull it out again. Anyway, you wouldn’t listen to me, but somehow that little stuffed animal got through your stubborn head, and I was able to convince you to be like an ostrich and bury your head when a problem came up. Nine times out of ten, the problem dissolved.”

Rosie pulled back slightly and looked at him. “You were very wise,” she agreed. “And I’ll grant you that the Ostrich Plan works for most problems, but there is that one time when you just can’t ignore something. You have to face it head on.”

“Give me an example from our wedding of a problem you ignored that came back to haunt you.”

“The candy-coated almonds didn’t arrive until two weeks after the wedding.”

“Okay, but you managed to send them back and get a refund. Right?”

She was reluctant to lose the argument, so she didn’t answer.

“And did anybody gasp and comment on the appalling lack of candy-covered almonds on the tables? Did anybody even notice—you included? You had forgotten that you even ordered them until they showed up late.”

She gave a guilty grin. He was right—again.

“So, all I’m saying is over the next few weeks, unless it’s really pressing, adopt the Ostrich Plan. Bury your head in the sand and let whatever problem is looming just wash over you.”

Rosie stared at the floor like a reluctant child, and Marcus lifted her chin as he might with Natasha. “Pwomise?” he asked, using his Natasha voice.

“Pwomise,” she agreed.

The house was warm and quiet as they headed up the stairs to the guestroom.

“Thanks for everything today,” she said as she slipped into a nightgown that Tilly had thoughtfully left for her on the bed. “Thanks for staying here and taking care of Matilda and Natasha and waiting up for us to come home.”

“Hey, it’s the least I could do. I like your old man. He really is a good guy, and I’m sorry to hear the business is going under. I thought he was set up for life—you know, just working for the hell of it. Do you think he really meant it about losing this place?” he asked as he looked around at the abundant luxury.

Like the rest of the house, Popsy had decorated the visitor’s bedroom in antique furniture. An enormous bed dominated the room and the deep chestnut color of the headboard was the same as the two bedside tables. The carpet, curtains, and bedding were all shades of cream and white so the room felt bright even against the dark wood.

“It’ll be morning before I manage to get into the bed,” he grumbled as he flung all the decorative pillows on the floor.

“Shhh, Marcus. Mom might hear you.” Rosie climbed in on her side.

He checked to make sure the door was closed. “Didn’t she take a sleeping pill?”

“I tried but she refused, and her bedroom is just next door,” she said and switched off her bedside lamp.

But Marcus wasn’t easily scared.

“Guess we’ll have to be very quiet in that case.

It had been a trying day, and it was bliss to lose herself in the arms of her husband. Tonight she needed life-affirming love. Nightclothes and worries were soon discarded as they found each other. He was her strength, her rock. The one she could cling to as her old pillars of strength crumbled. With C&J Industries gone, she’d lost all her old security and now that her father was lying in the ICU, she wondered if she was she going to lose a parent, too. All she could rely on going forward was Marcus and Natasha.

He kissed her and then pulled back. “Are you crying?”

“Just a little,” she whispered. “Don’t worry. Even ostriches cry sometimes.”

Ever so gently, he rubbed the tears away and put kisses in their place. Even in the darkness, Rosie could feel the weight of his stare just as much as she could feel the weight of his body. “I love you,” he whispered as he moved with her.

“I love you, too.”

But just a few moments later he said, “This isn’t working, is it?”

“I’m sorry. I must have too much on my mind. I thought that this was just what I wanted, but now that we’re here, I can’t.”

“Where’s my little ostrich?”

“I tried that. There’s just too much to ignore tonight.”

Marcus took the hint and rolled over, giving her the space she needed, but he put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her again. “I really do understand. And to be honest, I feel a little weird doing it in your parents’ house anyway. I mean, imagine if your mom heard us. How gross would that be?”

“Pretty gross. And what about Matilda?”

“She’s in the guesthouse, isn’t she? It would have to be a hell of a performance for her to hear us.”

“True, but we have our days,” she whispered.

“We do, babe, and today just isn’t one of them. You okay? No more crying?”

Rosie nodded against his chest.

“I really need to take you away from all of this,” Marcus said.

“That sounds good. Somewhere warm and sunny with long golden beaches and aquamarine water.”

“For sure. Now that your mom and Matilda have agreed to babysit Nat, I’ll start looking for somewhere good to go.”

“We’ll have to wait for Dad to get out of the hospital first, though.”

“Sure. He’ll be out in a matter of days. We’ll figure out the dates tomorrow, but let’s say sometime around the end of November, early December. Sound good?”

“Oh, Marcus, that sounds perfect,” Rosie said, feeling better already.

“They have a new club in Bogota, very discreet. It has a strict twenty-five to forty-years-old rule, so there would be no dirty old men there for you. Only cool, young, open-minded guys and gals, of course. You’re going to love it.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. He still wanted to try out a swinging vacation. How could she have been so naive to think he would change?

Be an ostrich, she thought. Be an ostrich.

Chapter 13 

Popsy and Sandra

Popsy had never had a panic attack, but if she did, she was pretty sure it would feel something like what she was experiencing right now. Breakfast was out of the question. Already she felt like she could be ill any second, and that was with nothing inside her.

    She now understood she’d been in shock the day before. The doctor at the hospital had told her as much, but this morning she was clearly waking up to the reality of her situation. Not surprisingly, she’d had a pretty appalling night’s sleep, but she forced herself to stay in bed until 6 a.m. After that, it was no use. She was up and dressed by 6:30, so to try to pass the time, she went for one of her powerwalks. Anything was better than sitting at home and waiting for the hospital visiting hours to begin.

When she phoned, they were very understanding. They told her Peter had slept well, but she knew it was a drug-induced sedation, and they couldn’t tell her anything else until the resident had done his rounds and made a decision on where he was going. Therefore, she walked.

Without intending to, Popsy ended up at The Celtic Crowne where Sandra and Jack owned the penthouse apartment. It wasn’t possible to see their windows from the road, because they had enormous balconies, but she glanced up anyway.

Was Jack there with Sandra? Had he come clean yet? Popsy was worried. Would Peter even be able to stay in the same room as Jack when he got better? Would the men become enemies? What about Sandra? Would she blame Popsy in some way? Would their friendship perish on the rocks of this romance? Thank God for Rosie. At least she seemed to be in a good place, heading off to the Caribbean with her husband, to play golf no less.

How was Lily? How could she have been so stupid? Had Popsy done something terribly wrong when raising her daughter for her to make such an error in judgment? Perhaps it was Peter. Could it be that he was so busy with his work that Lily had missed something fundamental when she was growing up?

Now the girl needed a father figure, because it was pretty clear that was the role Jack filled. Why else would she end up with him?

Yes, she decided, her daughter
thought
she loved Jack, but Popsy knew that that was foolish. Young girls were meant to fall in love with young boys. Then they got married, had babies, and grew old together. That was what little girls had been taught from a very young age.

What about her? Would she be able to grow old with Peter? How in the hell did he have a heart attack? There were no warning signs. No signs, period. Peter never got sick, never even caught a cold. He worked seven days a week and loved it. How her life had turned on a dime, she reflected as she walked past the front of the hotel.

Popsy resolved to visit Sandra straight after Peter. First, she would phone Jack to give him fair warning, and if he refused to come clean, she would do it for him—bastard. Stupid, selfish bastard.

By the time she got home, the house was awake and everybody was in the kitchen. Natasha was still an early riser and couldn’t believe that she was allowed to have birthday pie for breakfast. Matilda was fussing over her like an old mother goose. It was a terrific distraction for her. Rosie looked pretty tired, too.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked her daughter, concerned.

“Not the best night ever. Same as yourself, I’d guess,” Rosie said and kissed her.

“Marcus still asleep?” She poured herself a large glass of water. Rosie shook her head. “No, he went home to get a change of clothes for everyone. We were thinking of staying here for another night. How do you feel about that?”

Popsy shook her head. “You’re very sweet to mind me, darling, but really, I’m okay. Of course, I’m horrified that Dad is in the hospital, but I’ve been on to them already. They’re happy with the stable night he’s had. I know he’ll be home in a few days, and to be honest, I’m not even worried about the business collapsing. All that matters is we have each other and everybody is healthy. I just want to get your dad home. I’m thinking I might follow you and get him away to the Caribbean when he’s strong enough.”

Rosie busied herself with making the coffee.

“That’s a great idea, Mom, but I have to tell you Mr. Crowley, the company lawyer, called this morning. He wanted to speak to Dad and said it was urgent, so I had to tell him—in strictest confidence, of course. It might be a good idea to keep Dad away from him for a few days—just so he doesn’t get stressed again. What do you think?”

Popsy was pensive for a moment and didn’t speak.

“We’ll be okay,” Rosie said.

“Oh, I know. I just wonder if we’ll lose the house,” Popsy said, sounding a little shaky.

“Not today’s problem. Remember what we discussed about prioritizing. Do you want me to keep you company when you visit Dad?”

“No, honey, if it’s all the same to you, I want to see Daddy alone this morning. I think we need to talk a little—you know, about the business and how he wants to handle it. What he wants me to do, if anything. I daresay he’ll have a thing or two to say about your sister, too. Have you heard anything?”

“Actually, I called her last night. She was so worried about Dad. She feels so guilty.”

“Good.” Popsy was not in a forgiving mood. She scrubbed the glass she was holding and polished it with a towel.

“I think Jack might have talked to Sandra last night, you know, come clean.”

“Is that what you’d call it?”

Rosie raised her hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m not even sure if he did, but Lily seemed to think so. Maybe he even moved out. I don’t know what actually happened. I just thought you should know.”

Popsy forced herself to calm down. “Thanks, pet. I’m sorry if I seem to be snapping at you, but I am glad to hear Sandra knows. It was on my to-do list for later.”

“Jeez, quite a to-do list: visit ICU, inform best friend that your daughter is sleeping with her husband . . . It’s going to be a long day,” Rosie joked, and Popsy laughed.

“True, but what’s a girl to do?” She put the now ridiculously clean glass away and placed her hands on her hips. “I suppose I need to talk to Mr. Crowley. I need to know what he’s doing about filing for Chapter 11 and if he’ll have to postpone it because of Peter being in the hospital. I wonder if I’ll need to get commercial lawyers or an independent accountant. I have no idea what to do.”

“Talk to Dad, but don’t stress him.”

“That’s my plan.”

The hospital looked very different on a Monday morning. Popsy and Rosie had come in with the paramedics via the emergency room the day before. While that was pretty busy, the rest of the place seemed somber and quiet. This morning it was bustling with activity and people were everywhere. Popsy found it reassuring.

Meeting the doctor on duty was heartening, too. He was confident about moving Peter later in the morning but also said that he would be in the hospital for at least a week. He was able to confirm, thanks to the elevated creatinine phosphokinase, that Peter had definitely had a heart attack. There were a number of further tests he needed. He called one an “electro angiogram,” and Peter was scheduled for one later that day. There was a small blockage discovered during the earlier tests, and he said they might have to do an angioplasty to clear it out.

On the plus side, it would mean they’d found the cause of the heart attack, but on the minus, it did mean heart surgery, albeit a minor procedure. Decades ago it was a big deal, but nowadays it was pretty uncomplicated and he’d be right as rain quite soon. But until they found the cause of it, they said he shouldn’t be under any stress.

“No stress,” she repeated and nodded in earnest, but inside, she panicked. How was that possible?

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said and forced a smile. Popsy reckoned that a company going bankrupt was something Peter could handle. It was his rogue
daughter
, and not rogue
trading
, that had induced his heart attack.