A Woman's Place: A Novel (36 page)

"Could I fly first class?" "No," he said. I would have bargained with her, which was why Brody was the money person.

Rona sat back. "What about a salary?"

I wasn't touching that subject.

Brody didn't blink. "Two hundred a day." She made a face. "That's less than ten bucks an hour. I'd make more as a janitor at Cleveland Heights High. Three hundred a day."

"Two-fifty. You wouldn't want to be a janitor. Besides, you don't need the money. Two-fifty, plus expenses. Take it or leave it."

"You drive a hard bargain, Brody Parth," she said, but there was a smile on her face that made me feel nice.

Three days later, on the first Monday in December, Carmen and Art faced off before Justice David Wheeler of the Massachusetts Court of Appeals. Wheeler's courtroom was far quieter than Selwey's had been. The floor was carpeted, for one thing. For another, there were no spectators, no hum from the rows of empty wood benches.

The room itself was large. Before those wood benches was the bar, beyond which were tables for each of the lawyers flanking a podium, then, raised, a longer bench for the justices. Three high-backed leather chairs sat behind it. Justice Wheeler occupied the central one. There was no sense of crisis, no frenzy here. Aside from the creak of Wheeler's chair when he alternately leaned far back to listen and came forward to question, the only sounds were his voice and those of Carmen and Arthur.

Each lawyer argued his or her case from the central podium. Since the justice already knew the facts, the purpose of the hearing was to allow him to ask questions, but only as they pertained to the earlier hearings with Selwey. This hearing was simply a review of that court action. No new evidence would be put forward. Carmen's argument, dictated by the nature of the appeal, was that Selwey had abused judicial discretion by making a decision that was beyond the bounds of reason. Heuber argued to the contrary. Neither Dennis nor I were asked to testify, but remained seated at the tables below.

The hearing lasted for just under an hour. We had been hoping that Justice Wheeler would announce his decision from the bench at the end of that time. In fact, he took the matter under advisement, promising a written opinion within several days.

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So we waited. Again. Still.

Dean Jenovitz knew how disappointed I was when the court granted him an extension on the original thirty days allowed for the study, but I didn't think for a minute that my impatience spurred him on. More likely it was the ten-day trip to Florida he had planned for the end of December. Whatever the reason, I was relieved when I got the first of the calls telling me he had started down my reference list. I was actually relieved in more ways than one. Whether my calls to each of those people had helped or they simply thought well of me, I didn't know, but they gave positive reports.

The children's pediatric nurse-practitioner, with whom I had developed a close enough friendship over the years to have her daughter spend one summer working in our Vineyard store, called to say, "He was pleasant enough, Claire. He asked if I thought the children were well-adjusted, happy, well-cared for, that kind of thing. Naturally, I said they were. I laughed and said a big no when he asked if I had ever seen signs of abuse. He didn't ask anything specific about you or Dennis. So I took it upon myself to tell him. I mean, I didn't say anything against Dennis. He would have thought you'd prepped me, and really, you haven't, but you've been the one I've dealt with all these years. I told him that. I just slipped it right into the conversation in the middle of praising you as a mother. I said that there was no way those children wouldn't be well adjusted and happy and well-cared for with a mother like you." Kikit's teacher, who had been Johnny's two years before, at which time I had been a room mother, called to say, "He was asking about Kikit, since she's in my class now, but I made it clear right at the start that I knew both children well. He asked how they did in school. I told him the apple didn't fall far from the tree. He asked how they got along with other kids, how they handled new problems, how they reacted to disappointments. Then he asked to see Kikit's report card. I explained that we don't grade the children this young, but that if he'd like a preview of the written report I'll be sending home on Kikit in January, I'd do hers early and send it along." When I started to protest the extra work, she said, "I'm thrilled to do it, Claire. I don't know your husband well at all, so I can't say much about him either way, but you've always been generous with your time with us, and you're clearly devoted to your children."

Our minister called to ask how I was doing and say that he was still hoping Dennis and I would reconcile, which was what he had told the GAL.

"I said that the children seemed fine to me, but that I only see them for a few hours each week, so it would be hard for me to see how they were adjusting to the separation unless there were a marked change in their behavior, which there hasn't been. I suspect you're working hard to keep this as painless for them as possible. I told him that. I did invite him to join us this weekend, but he declined." Encouraged, I called Johnny's basketball coach on the pretense of saying that, separation or no separation, Dennis and I would like to hold the team's holiday banquet at the house again this year. I knew that Dennis wouldn't dare object. Lasagna, Italian bread, a huge tossed salad--as banquets went it was easy enough. I could do it spending little more than the afternoon and evening of the event at the house, even less if Dennis helped. The coach was grateful for the offer.

"I've had lots of people come forward and say they'd chip in to help at someone else's house," he said, "but you're one of the few with the courage to take on twelve nine-year-olds plus their parents for dinner Page 194

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at your own. I told that to the fellow who called. He wanted to know how long I'd known Johnny and whether I'd seen a change in him since you two separated. I told him that Johnny's always been one of my hardest-working players, which is a tribute to you and Dennis. You've always been there on the sidelines, and now Dennis is jumping right in. He's helped me coach these last few weeks. Knows some pretty good drills. Think he's after my job?"

I was more hesitant calling Kikit's allergy doctor. I feared that he would align himself with a fellow health professional and take confidentiality to heart. So I called him on the pretense of asking if there was any chance that Kikit might have a slow-building reaction to Valentino's dander. I had already checked it out with his nurse, and would never have taken Valentino if there had been the slightest chance of a problem. The doctor confirmed that and was pleased when I said that Kikit hadn't so much as sniffled in Valentino's company. Then he told me about his GAL call.

"We talked for a while about whether Kikit's anaphylaxis could be affected by emotional upset. I told him you had called and asked me that yourself right after Kikit's last attack. I told him what I told you, that an extremely upset child could bring on psychosomatic symptoms, or that an extremely disturbed child could deliberately eat something he or she shouldn't for the sake of getting the parents' attention, but I don't put Kikit into either of those categories. I told him that she's a strong little girl who doesn't seem afraid to tell her parents much of anything, even when they're wrong. Actually, your husband called to ask about the cat, too. I could hear Kikit in the background. She wasn't very happy with him. But he handled her fine. And I handled him fine. So the cat's okay, Claire. Anything else?"

Rona, too, talked with Jenovitz, long distance from I-wasn't-sure-where. She said that she had raved about me, that Jenovitz had been receptive, and that--get this, she said--he went to high school with Harold. When Jenovitz called to arrange a visit with the children for the following week, he advised us to simply say that his coming to the house was an ordinary part of the divorce process. I wasn't sure the children would buy it. Johnny kept comparing his situation with a friend whose parents had just gone through a smoother, quieter, more conventional divorce, and as for Kikit, she questioned everything. Jenovitz assured me that he had done this many times before and that the less said, the better. I went along with him, though I was apprehensive. I didn't want the children worrying about what they were or were not supposed to say. I didn't want them feeling the pull of conflicting loyalties. If Jenovitz upset the children, I would be furious. I would be doubly furious if he upset them and I wasn't allowed near to patch them up.

I didn't have to worry about Jenovitz upsetting Brocly, with whom he arranged a meeting for the day after he met with the kids. Brody was tough. He could give as good as he got. What I did worry about was why, given my relationship with Brody and his importance to the kids, Jenovitz hadn't wanted to see him sooner. A meeting at this late date seemed more an afterthought, which was in keeping with what I had felt during my own last meeting with Jenovitz. I couldn't shake my fear that the study was perfunctory, that he wasn't really into it, that the outcome was preordained.

Common sense dictated that I would get my children back. But I hadn't seen much evidence of common sense lately. My single best hope rested on Justice Wheeler.

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I waited for his decision. Tuesday came and went without, then Wednesday. I tried to apply myself to Wicker Wise but working was easier said than done. Two hours at a time was as much as I got before restlessness set in. When Brody was around, the restlessness was easy to cure--a walk on the bluff, a drive to the store, kisses here, a little loving there. When he wasn't around, I retreated to my workroom. The dirty work was done on both the antique rocker and its side table. I had cleaned and smoothed every area where broken wickers had come out. Now I cut new reeds to the approximate lengths that would allow for comfortable overlap, soaked them to make them pliable, and started to weave them in, one by one.

Following the pattern was the most obvious requisite, a more subtle one being the tension used. A reed woven too loose or too tight would stand out forever, which was pretty much how I felt about my life just then. If my split with Dennis didn't soften up and start blending with the rest of my life, it would indelibly mark everything to come. The GAL could help by reinstating me as a parent of worth. Justice Wheeler could help by countermanding Selwey's orders. By late Thursday, I was vacillating between hope and despair. Then Carmen called. sixteen.

My heart began to hammer at the sound of her voice. "What?" I asked. She hesitated a second too long.

"Oh, no," I said.

"I'm sorry, Claire. I just got the call. A written opinion will follow, but the gist of it is that since Dennis appears to be a capable father, Wheeler didn't think Selwey's decision was irrational." I let out a heartsick breath and sank into a chair. I had been counting on this, so sure we were in the right that this turn left me stunned.

"What about me?" I cried. "Does he think I'm an incapable mother?"

"No. Simply that leaving the children with their father pending the guardian's study was a reasonable move. Not necessarily the one he would make. But reasonable. That's all the appeal was about." I closed my eyes and pressed a fist to my heart. What was wrong? I had admitted to making mistakes. Had they been that bad that the punishment should go on and on and on?

"Are you there?" Carmen asked cautiously.

"I'm here." I sighed. "Then everything rests on Jenovitz?" "For now. He'll be our fastest source of relief."

My heart dropped. "Assuming he rules in my favor."

"Well, we're working on that, too. If we can get figures to show that his findings are inordinately supportive of Selwey's rulings, we'll have a shot at another Motion for Reconsideration. It'd help if we could reach an agreement with Dennis on custody. Unfortunately," another hesitation, one I liked even less, "there's a problem. Heuber called right after the judge's clerk did."

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I braced myself. "What?"

"Dennis has a buyer for Wicker Wise

Wicker Wise isn't for sale."

"Heuber says," Carmen mocked, "that Dennis had been weighing the Pittney option all along and now feels he wants that instead, so from you, by way of a settlement, he wants half the market value of Wicker Wise Since you don't have that kind of money lying around, he suggests selling Wicker Wise and paying him off. Your instincts were right." That was small solace. "I'm not selling. I'll take this to trial before I do that."

"Well, they're ready."

"To go to trial? Will they? Carmen, I can't last that long."

"No, no, sweetie. It won't come to that. We have Dennis on Phoebe and Adrienne and whatever else Morgan is getting. Call this Heuber's last stand. They're posturing. Calling our bluff." Playing with me was what they were doing, and I was getting tired of it.

"Hold out," I ordered. My breath was coming from the place inside that had been messed with once too often. It was the same place that still heard my mother speak of regrets. I refused, absolutely refused to fall into that trap. Brody had another solution. "Let Dennis find ten buyers for Wicker Wise You don't have to sell to any one of them. You can sell to me. That'll give you the money to pay Dennis off, and you'll still have Wicker Wise

Carefully, I said, "No, you'll have Wicker Wise

"Same difference."

"No. If you buy Wicker Wise it's yours."

"What's mine is yours."

"You're missing the point," I insisted. Wicker Wise isn't for sale. I don't want to sell to anyone."

We were in the workroom. I had been working frantically since Carmen's call, but my hands weren't steady. The new reeds weren't going in evenly. It was just as well that I stop.

"This is coming out wrong," I tried. "It's sounding like I don't want you owning Wicker Wise and that isn't it." I went to him, put my hands on his shoulders, and pleaded, "I'll give Wicker Wise to you free and clear--but only if it's of my own free will. I won't have Dennis dictating something like this. He has a right to a say in what we do with the kids. I accept that. But Wicker Wise is mine." It sounded good. It sounded tough. Still, I knew I could lose it. There was nothing I could do but wait. That was the worst. I waited for Carmen's associates to find dirt on Jenovitz, waited for Morgan Houser to find dirt on Dennis, waited for Dennis to tire of fathering, waited for Jenovitz to reach his decision.