garage in the basement, so he wouldn’t have to park on the street anymore. The house was solidly built and could take this level of renovation.
Good, I thought, that meant we had a strong foundation— metaphorically as well as concretely. Because it was clear to me that at summer’s end, we would be coming back here to make big decisions, not the least of which was whether our working and personal relationship was going to really last.
So. I guess you could understand why, just days before we were going to depart for the auction in Nice, I, still immersed in paving the way for our future, got a bit of a shock when I telephoned Jeremy at his apartment (where he had stopped off to unpack his business-travel suitcase and pack up his things for our summer off)—and, a woman answered the phone.
“Hall-ooo?” she said in her posh, well-rested way. I tried to tell myself that I’d dialed the wrong number, and got someone else’s high-end, neurotic ex-wife. But I knew it was her.
“Where’s Jeremy?” I said brusquely.
“And who may I say is calling?” Lydia said, and then giggled helplessly for his benefit. I heard him call out, and she said, “I think it’s a wrong number, darling,” just to stick it to me.
“Lydia,” I said in my best worldly-heiress voice, “this is Penny. Put Jeremy on.”
“Ooh, can’t do it,” she said. “He’s in the shower. But I’ll tell him you called.”
I won’t even mention all the expletives that ran through my mind. Fortunately I didn’t have to say them, because I heard Jeremy say plaintively, “Lydia, who is it? The office?” Then it dawned on him. “Is that Penny?”
“ ’Bye now,” she was saying, but Jeremy must have made a grab for it.
“Penny,” he said, quickly and contritely. “Is that you?”
“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me why you’re in the shower with That Person in your apartment,” I said calmly.
“I was not in the shower,” he said indignantly. “Is that what she told you?”
He must have made a face at her, because I heard her giggle again.
“Yes, we’ve been having oh-so-much-fun playing cat and mouse over you,” I said. “Why is she there?”
“She wanted some legal advice,” he said, sounding as if he knew perfectly well what I thought of that.
My voice took on a phonily casual tone. “Oh?” I said, still trying to sound like the sort of elegant woman who’s so confident that nothing threatens her. “And did you ‘recuse’ yourself, and refer her to another lawyer?”
“Well, I had to hear her out first, to see who to refer her to,” Jeremy said, a shade irritated with her, or with me, or with both of us, or women in general.
“She must have been frustrated all these months while you were away on business trips,” I said with a light laugh. “She must have been crouched over by the elevator waiting for you to show up again.” I expected him to reproach me, but when he didn’t, I knew that I’d guessed fairly correctly. “God, she did, didn’t she?” I marveled.
“Just about,” he admitted.
“My advice is, pack your duds and shoo her out of there and bolt the door and don’t look back,” I said crisply.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly, dog that he was. Then I had a horrid thought, imagining his open suitcases lying about, a telltale sign for Lydia to see that he was going on an extended trip.
“You didn’t tell her where we’re going, did you, Jeremy?” I asked pleadingly. “You didn’t tell her about our Plan, with our future enterprise and the yacht, and our great gap summer and . . . ?”
“No, of course not,” he said. “She did notice the suitcases, and asked for a number where she could reach me, because of this ongoing legal matter she’s got—”
I didn’t even wait for him to finish. I snapped, “Let her call through to your office, like all your other clients!”
“I did better than that,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll tell you when I get there.”
At
Good, I thought, that meant we had a strong foundation— metaphorically as well as concretely. Because it was clear to me that at summer’s end, we would be coming back here to make big decisions, not the least of which was whether our working and personal relationship was going to really last.
So. I guess you could understand why, just days before we were going to depart for the auction in Nice, I, still immersed in paving the way for our future, got a bit of a shock when I telephoned Jeremy at his apartment (where he had stopped off to unpack his business-travel suitcase and pack up his things for our summer off)—and, a woman answered the phone.
“Hall-ooo?” she said in her posh, well-rested way. I tried to tell myself that I’d dialed the wrong number, and got someone else’s high-end, neurotic ex-wife. But I knew it was her.
“Where’s Jeremy?” I said brusquely.
“And who may I say is calling?” Lydia said, and then giggled helplessly for his benefit. I heard him call out, and she said, “I think it’s a wrong number, darling,” just to stick it to me.
“Lydia,” I said in my best worldly-heiress voice, “this is Penny. Put Jeremy on.”
“Ooh, can’t do it,” she said. “He’s in the shower. But I’ll tell him you called.”
I won’t even mention all the expletives that ran through my mind. Fortunately I didn’t have to say them, because I heard Jeremy say plaintively, “Lydia, who is it? The office?” Then it dawned on him. “Is that Penny?”
“ ’Bye now,” she was saying, but Jeremy must have made a grab for it.
“Penny,” he said, quickly and contritely. “Is that you?”
“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me why you’re in the shower with That Person in your apartment,” I said calmly.
“I was not in the shower,” he said indignantly. “Is that what she told you?”
He must have made a face at her, because I heard her giggle again.
“Yes, we’ve been having oh-so-much-fun playing cat and mouse over you,” I said. “Why is she there?”
“She wanted some legal advice,” he said, sounding as if he knew perfectly well what I thought of that.
My voice took on a phonily casual tone. “Oh?” I said, still trying to sound like the sort of elegant woman who’s so confident that nothing threatens her. “And did you ‘recuse’ yourself, and refer her to another lawyer?”
“Well, I had to hear her out first, to see who to refer her to,” Jeremy said, a shade irritated with her, or with me, or with both of us, or women in general.
“She must have been frustrated all these months while you were away on business trips,” I said with a light laugh. “She must have been crouched over by the elevator waiting for you to show up again.” I expected him to reproach me, but when he didn’t, I knew that I’d guessed fairly correctly. “God, she did, didn’t she?” I marveled.
“Just about,” he admitted.
“My advice is, pack your duds and shoo her out of there and bolt the door and don’t look back,” I said crisply.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly, dog that he was. Then I had a horrid thought, imagining his open suitcases lying about, a telltale sign for Lydia to see that he was going on an extended trip.
“You didn’t tell her where we’re going, did you, Jeremy?” I asked pleadingly. “You didn’t tell her about our Plan, with our future enterprise and the yacht, and our great gap summer and . . . ?”
“No, of course not,” he said. “She did notice the suitcases, and asked for a number where she could reach me, because of this ongoing legal matter she’s got—”
I didn’t even wait for him to finish. I snapped, “Let her call through to your office, like all your other clients!”
“I did better than that,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll tell you when I get there.”
At
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