The Tao of Pam (21 page)

“Okay, dear. Thank you for coming today. See you bright and early again tomorrow?”

Lisa smiled and nodded her head. “Bright and early.” She pulled out of the driveway and turned around for home. When she got there, Ed’s car was gone; he must have taken Dan’s advice and hightailed it to work.

Megan went right down for a nap after lunch, and Lisa got into the shower to wash the grease from frying pork products off her body. She had a towel wrapped around her head and her robe on and was making tea when she heard a tap on the front door. Peeking out the kitchen window, she was surprised to see a new Porsche in the driveway. It was Dan.

“Come on in,” she said. “Sorry about my appearance.” They’d seen each other in pajamas and eveningwear, bathing suits and blue jeans. It wasn’t a big deal.

“I was on my way from the farm, and I started thinking about you and Ed and what our strategy should be. Do you know if he’s still thinking of working with me this summer?”

Lisa thought about what he was saying, talking about Ed like he was a normal man who could make decisions and carry out plans.

“Dan, all I can think about right now is getting him into some kind of therapy. He’s not right in the head. I hate to call it mental illness, but he’s got some kind of social disorder that he’s had all of his life, ignored and left untreated. His father said he always knew there was something majorly wrong with him, but that Mrs. Ford denied it and hoped going into the priesthood would shelter him.”

Dan nodded his head. “I wondered what the priesthood thing was about. Why’d he leave?”

“He admitted to me that he felt like he didn’t need to hide anymore. I wonder how much of it was predestined so we could be together to ruin my life. Only now, I’m not sure I want to be with him. I don’t want to be a mother to my husband, and he needs someone strong and supportive. I want a husband who loves me and makes love to me. Not a little boy.”

Dan took her hand. “Don’t give up on him,” he said. “It’s clear you love each other. We just need to get him the right help.” He stood up to leave. “I’ll call him daily until we get this sorted out. I’m hoping they’ll drop the charges and he’ll come to the office this summer. I need the help.”

Neither of them mentioned Pam. Lisa felt sorry for her mother, but understood why she ended the relationship with Dan. He was too young for her. Walking Dan to the door, they’d fallen into an easy camaraderie; she felt like he was an older brother. Now that he knew all her personal business, it was even more familiar.

“I’ll call you if anything changes,” he said, leaning in for a peck on the cheek.

“Okay, talk to you later,” Lisa said and watched him as he walked down the path to the driveway where his car was. He turned to wave to her.

She closed the door after he pulled away. The afternoon stretched out ahead of her. She decided to plan a nice dinner for Ed. They could watch a movie afterwards, and then it would be time for bed. Going through the motions of the day, she bathed Megan and fed her, playing with her until Ed got home. Hearing his car in the driveway, she watched him sit for a while with the car running. Why wasn’t he coming in? Was he dreading it as much as she was? He finally looked up at the door and saw her, so had to get out of the car. Her heart went out to him; he was so thin and pale, the last days having taken a toll on him. She’d try to be nicer to him and not make any demands. She could do that for a day.

“Well, look at you!” she said brightly. “How’d the day go?”

He shrugged his shoulders, frowning. He didn’t try to hug her, or kiss the baby, but squeezed by them standing in the doorway.

“Ed, are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded his head. “Just tired,” he answered. “What’s for dinner?”

“I made a roast chicken and stuffing, just like you love,” she said, a smile plastered across her face.

He sniffed the air like a dog. “I smell bread baking,” he said, a sliver of a smile on his face.

“Just brown n’ serve rolls,” she answered. “But you like those, don’t you?”

He nodded again. “Yep, sure do.”

He disappeared into the back of the house, and she could hear him going up the stairs into their bedroom. She’d avoid thinking of the bed, its association to her of sex with Ed, the chance they might not do it again, all very depressing.

She picked up Megan and sat with her at the kitchen table, fighting tears. She’d thought she could do anything for twenty-four hours, but wondered if being kind to Ed for that long was more than she was capable of. Looking up at the clock, she decided a whole day was too much. She could be nice for an hour. She’d do it hour by hour. She stood up with the baby on her hip and went to the den for a pen. There was a mug on her desk filled with indelible pens, and she picked one in red. On a piece of paper, she made four lines. One for each hour from five until nine that night. Waiting for the hour to pass, she’d cross it off when it was over. She clutched the paper in her fist, waiting for the time to pass. The evening with him didn’t feel so daunting, seeing those four lines. She could do it for four hours. And then she’d say good night, unless he petered out first and went to bed. Moving her belongings into the spare room, she’d tell him it was to allow him room to heal.

But he didn’t ask.

Brent was out when Pam returned from the farm. She wondered what had motivated him to call Sandra about working at the company his father built. It was a thrilling moment for her. The day before they had packed a picnic basket and made a camp right on the beach, in front of the house. It was one of the best days Pam could remember having since Jack died. They played the radio, dozed under the umbrella, snacked and drank wine. Brent confessed to his mother just enough of his life that she could understand why Julie would be distraught, ending their engagement, without divulging how reckless he’d been. The rest of the time, when they weren’t sleeping or tossing a Frisbee back and forth, they spoke of Jack. Brent needed to vent, and Pam allowed it. Everyone else had had the opportunity but Brent. It was his turn.

He hadn’t said a word to her about his plans to stay on in Babylon and join the firm; she’d fully expected him to go back to California that evening. So Sandra’s call helped put the extra pieces into place. He was staying home. She’d have both her children close by again. After resisting it when Dan was in her life, now that she didn’t have a companion, it would be nice. She fantasized about holidays with the children and the grandmothers like it used to be.

A wave of despair flowed over her. She was doing it again, living in the past. It was depressing to think she had to start over from square one. Dan had taken up so much of her time, and now she saw that it was filler: dancing and bowling and going to dinner and get-togethers with his courtroom colleagues. She wasn’t interested in his friends, and they weren’t interested in her outside of where her life touched Dan’s. Much of the time while they were out, she fantasized about what she could be doing if she was home. Now, it was real. She could stay in, read a book, putter, whatever she wanted without worrying about making him happy.

Opening the fridge, she was overdue to throw out all the leftover craziness from the picnic, and shop for food for her and Brent. Grabbing a trash bag, she didn’t realize until a few minutes later that she was smiling while she cleaned out the refrigerator. It was just like old times.

Chapter 17

Sandra hung up from Pam and walked out into the reception area. “What’s Peter up to?” she asked the new receptionist Molly, a lovely young college student who would be there as a back-up during the summer.

“He’s in his office,” she said. “Not in the best of moods.”

Sandra thought, smiling,
What else is new? The best time to approach him about Brent.

Sandra turned back to the offices and made her way through the narrow corridor. Knocking on his door, he said to come in. Walking in, she was always blown away by the view. She had Jack’s old office, a lavish expanse that overlooked the harbor. But Peter’s office had two sides of windows with views to the ocean and then, on the other side, Staten Island and New Jersey. The harbor was full of boats; from where they were on the thirtieth floor, the traffic looked like dots as the boats traveled from the Hudson River to open water.

“As soon as you stop licking your chops over my view, you can tell me what you want,” he said with typical Peter sarcasm.

“Brent Smith wants in,” she said, sitting down across from him, but unable and unwilling to take her eyes off the view.

“Tough shit,” Peter answered. “It’s too late.”

“Nope, it’s not,” she replied. “According to the codicil to Jack’s will, he has as long as he wants to decide.”

“Right, Sandra, according to
your
codicil. It doesn’t have anything to do with me. If he comes, you go.”

Sandra sat back, shocked. “I think you’re wrong about that. I’m pretty sure we take him whether I am here or not. You and I are partners, pal. Until death do us part, or this place folds.” She stood up and did a little bump-and-grind stretch with her arms over her head, Peter’s jaw dropping. Her jacket and silk shell had crept up, revealing just a hint of flesh, not more than a centimeter. Not being able to help herself, Sandra burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, close your mouth. You look like a fish.” She turned to walk out.

“Close my door, and don’t bother me again,” he said.

“Shut up, Peter. I’ll bother you when I want. And get ready to say hi to our new employee, your protégé, Mr. Brent Smith.”

“Get out,” Peter yelled. But Sandra could see a hint of a smile on his face.

Back in her office, she dialed an attorney first. She was right; Brent coming on board didn’t have anything to do with her or the draw she took from the business each month. But it would impact the profits his mother split with Peter each year.
Too bad
, Sandra thought. Next, she dialed Brent’s number. Answering on the first ring, he failed at muffling bar-crowd noises in the background. Glancing up at the clock, it was nearly five. Happy hour.

“Welcome aboard,” she said cheerfully. “I know your dad would be so happy about your decision.”

“Wow, that’s great,” Brent said. “I’m in the neighborhood. Should I come over now?”

“Where are you?” Sandra realized she was out of touch with the hip and young.

“At Bender,” he said. “Just around the corner.”

“Okay, come on over,” Sandra replied, hanging up the phone. Clearing her desk and putting files into her briefcase, she didn’t plan to stay past six. She went into the adjoining bathroom to freshen up, touching up her lipstick and running a brush through her hair. Her desk phone rang; it was Molly.

“Brent Smith here to see you,” she said.

“Send him over,” Sandra replied. She went to her door and looked down the hallway. A younger, thinner version of Jack Smith was walking toward her. At the picnic, she didn’t have any time to connect with him, too busy running after Miranda. He looked like every surfer dude from California. But in a suit and white shirt and tie, with a haircut, he was handsome. He smiled as he walked toward her, white teeth and dimples, and she held her breath. Jack. He reached for her, and they embraced, Sandra swallowing down tears. This was Jack’s flesh and blood.

“Wow, you’re all grown up,” she said, trying to stay appropriate. She was only three years older than Brent was, and the chemistry between them was unmistakable. She was tall for a woman, and they were almost eye-to-eye, but he had to look down just enough to make her feel like he was in command. She realized he was taller than Jack was.

“And you’re still beautiful,” he said, smiling. They stood in the doorway of her office with their arms around each other until someone cleared a throat behind Brent. It was the loathsome Peter.

“Sorry to break up your cozy reunion,” he said, holding out his hand for Brent.

“Uncle Peter!” Brent said, letting Sandra go and grabbing him in a bear hug. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Peter gave a rare laugh. “I just saw you at your graduation, goofball.” But he hugged him in return, patting his back. “So, you’ve decided to upset our smooth-running empire.”

“Yeah, I’m ready to grow up,” Brent said. “This seems like a good place to hang out while I’m doing it.”

Peter didn’t seem to notice, but Sandra heard just a hint of insincerity in Brent’s speech.

“Come down to my office, and we can talk. Sandra, come with. You might be able to keep me from making promises that aren’t mine to make.”

She followed the men down the hall. “Let me order coffee,” she said, taking the passive role, turning back to her office. She’d get her phone and put it on record. She wanted to be able to retrieve everything said. In the next hour, the three of them hammered out a deal that would keep Brent busy, pay him while he learned the ropes, and maintain his mother’s income. Sandra kept her expression and her tone neutral, even when things said made her bristle; the business wasn’t hers in the true sense of the word.

In accordance with Jack’s will, Sandra collected a substantial draw each month and was in a position of authority with equal say in decisions with Peter. But she would never benefit from the sale of it, or receive profits. It seemed somewhat senseless; what was the point? She thought Brent might have looked at her with curiosity. Why did she settle for the directive cemented for her in Jack’s will? At the time, it was a guaranteed salary, and she had just discovered she was pregnant with baby Ellin. When she lost the baby, she should have run for her life. Now immersed in the benefits of being a partner in a company that was thriving, being free to take time off when she was needed at home was the biggest advantage, the money secondary.

Tom bugged her to go after Peter with demands for more money: profit sharing or pensions, anything more than the draw. But she was hesitant to do so. With Brent in the picture now, she might have to rethink her reluctance to ask for more. He was certainly not shy, arguing with Peter about the proposed salary offered.

“Ha!” He laughed. “I made more than that in Pasadena as a peon website guy.”