Emily & Einstein (39 page)

*   *   *

I felt excited and nervous at the same time when I turned the corner onto Fifth Avenue and pulled out my BlackBerry, punching in a number I thought I would never use.

“Hedda Vendome, please.”

“She’s in a meeting. Can I tell her who’s calling?”

“Tell her it’s Emily Barlow.”

I was put on hold and half expected to be forced to leave a message.

“Emily, darling. I saw the interview on television.”

“Thank you for setting it up.”

“I am nothing if not a master at getting attention. And let me just say, everyone has seen the interview. My assistant even found clips of it on that ridiculous but surprisingly addictive YouTube. You are something of a star!”

Cars rushed by, buses making it difficult to hear as I leaned back against the limestone façade of an elegant prewar building. The subtle heat of the late fall sun that had beat against the stone all afternoon seeped into my spine.

“An absolute star, I tell you! And why not, you were fabulous. Kind, determined, and that whole meltdown on the curb. Inspired! Too bad you didn’t time it closer to your mother’s book release.” She laughed, not lowering her voice. “A little bird told me your sister went AWOL. I’m guessing that you single-handedly saved that book.”

“Who told you that?” I didn’t want anyone to know that Jordan hadn’t written
My Mother’s Daughter.
I had gone to great lengths to write it from her perspective, wanted her to be the star of the story.

“Not to worry. I won’t tell anyone. But really, when are you coming to work for me?”

“Actually, I wondered if we could meet for lunch. Tomorrow, if you can.”

“Ha! I knew you’d come around. We’ll meet at Michael’s. Part negotiation, part celebration.”

“Not Michael’s. Let’s meet at the Westside Diner on Broadway and Sixty-ninth.”

“Good God! You’re taking me to a diner?”

I smiled into the phone. “I’m expecting you to pay, Hedda.”

She laughed loudly. “Tomorrow at twelve-thirty. I’ll be there.”

I disconnected, then hailed a cab. Next stop, Caldecote Press.

chapter forty-three

“You can wait in Ms. Harriman’s office. She’ll be right in.”

Entering Tatiana’s corner suite, I walked over to the wall of windows, looking out at the towers of glass and steel that filled midtown Manhattan. Two blocks north, I could see slices of Central Park through the other buildings.

“This is a surprise.” Tatiana stood in the doorway and crossed her arms.

“I told you I’d come in today.”

“I expected you first thing this morning, at your desk, fast at work scouring the world for the perfect manuscript that would set the world on fire.” She stepped forward, studying me. Before I could reply, she said, “Instead, you’ve come to quit.”

I had to smile. “I have.”

She didn’t look happy. “I knew this would happen. I knew once you found your footing again you’d want to move on. But to work for Hedda?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Do you really think I could possibly let Hedda be the only one in town who knows everything that’s going on?”

I laughed and shook my head. “I suspect not. But just so you know, that isn’t my plan.”

This surprised her, but after a few seconds a smile cracked on her mouth. “I’m guessing Hedda doesn’t know that.”

“Not yet, but she will. Tomorrow. She was a friend of my mother’s. I want to tell her my plans in person. The truth is, I want to start over and see where that takes me. Though don’t worry; Jordan will still promote
My Mother’s Daughter.
I’ll see to it. But it needs to be Jordan’s book, not mine. As the editor, I will talk to anyone you want me to. But I have to move on.”

She didn’t say anything, just stood there.

“Thank you, Tatiana. Thank you for putting up with me, for pushing me.”

Still nothing, so I nodded and started to leave. But then I stopped. “There’s something I need to know.”

She got that suspicious look on her face, one brow lifting.

“Why
did
you push me?” I asked.

She dismissed it with a wave. “It was nothing, I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

“See, you’re more straightforward than I believed.”

“Which leads me to my second question,” I said.

“Can’t we just hug, or something?”

“And braid hair?”

She laughed. “Fine, what is it?”

“Why did you give me a chance to publish my sister’s book in the first place, then give me the time to fix it once it turned into a disaster?”

“Caldecote Press couldn’t afford—”

“Tatiana, please. Why really?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I told you. I knew your mother.”

“There has to be more to it than that.”

She debated, then after a moment she shrugged. “When I was twenty-one, I was your mother’s assistant at WomenFirst.”

I had expected many things, but not this. “You?”

“Yes, me. I was like so many young women straight out of college, wanting to make a difference. I was going to be a new era’s Gloria Steinem. And let me tell you, I was damned good at my job.”

“No surprise there.”

She smiled for a second, then grew serious. “I should clarify. I was good at my job when I wasn’t falling apart over some guy.” She scowled. “I was a walking cliché, a slave to a series of bad boyfriends. Then one day your mother took me aside and told me I had everything it took to be successful, everything but belief in myself.” She shook her head. “Saying it out loud now makes it sound so kind of her, so helpful. But she ended by telling me to buck up, stop selling myself short. Quite frankly, I was angry and I quit, dismissing her as an old woman who didn’t know the first thing about being young and living in the city. Then one day I found myself between jobs and boyfriends, sitting on a bench in the Village, lost, with no idea what I was going to do next, and I remembered what she said.”

Tatiana walked to the window, looking out over a world she had since conquered. “I got my act together, and now here I am.” She turned to face me. “I hadn’t thought of your mother in years, not until Charles Tisdale was giving me a rundown of everyone at the company, telling me who was doing what, the potential each person had. He told me you had been a rising star, but hadn’t been able to recover after your husband’s death. He said you were circling down the drain. His words, not mine.”

I grimaced, but Tatiana didn’t let up.

“When I walked into that deli and saw you with a plastic container filled with mashed potatoes, your clothes a mess, your hair worse, I realized you were me when I was sitting on that park bench.” She shrugged. “Since I’m not one for mothering, I settled on pushing you. When you pitched
My Mother’s Daughter,
you handed me the perfect means to help you … and in a strange twist of fate, to thank your mother for what she had done for me.”

We stood for a second, and this time I really did feel like hugging her.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, though she smiled. “Any more questions?”

“No. Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome.”

I started to leave.

“And Emily.”

I looked back.

“I have no doubt that whatever you decide to do you will make your mother proud.”

I practically flew out of the offices of Caldecote Press understanding that my mother had done the best she could with her life, living in a world not quite at ease with her, or she with it. She had tried to do something important, but in the end felt she had failed. She hadn’t gotten to see what she had achieved, the lasting effect, but I had. I had seen it in Hedda wanting to make a difference through books; in Tatiana, whom Lillian Barlow had helped become more than a young woman living at the whim of men; in Jordan’s desire to tell the story of what she had accomplished; even in myself. None of us had given in to an ordinary world. We all, in our own ways, had tried to be extraordinary. Lillian Barlow had made a difference in the world.

Now I would use the strength she had always seen in me and start over.

*   *   *

When I got home, Einstein was lying in the gallery, panting hard.

“E?”

Kneeling next to him I stroked his fur. “What’s wrong, boy?”

He groaned, trying to get up. Since he had come home with me, he had been bossy and energetic, commanding. It had been easy to forget that when I found him at the clinic he had been old, tired, more dead than alive.

“You’re going to be okay, E.
We’re
going to be okay. I’m going to find us a perfect apartment. No stairs, close to the park. You’ll love it, I promise.”

He went stiff, a moan rumbling low.

“I know, I know. It won’t be the Dakota. But no way was I going to use that journal to blackmail Althea. I’m plenty young enough to start over.”

I sank down beside him, smiling ruefully. “Okay, so I’m thirty-two. But it’s never too late. You and me, buddy. Emily and Einstein. You’ve just got to hang in there.”

sandy

chapter forty-four

It is regret that kills, the if onlys that leave the mortal wounds.

If only
I had seen myself clearly while I was still a man.

If only
I had learned back then what I know now about how to live a life worth living.

If only
I had understood that my wife couldn’t accept the apartment before I revealed my mother’s secret.

I experienced a moment of frustration that I had proven my lack of honor, all for naught. But the feeling didn’t last. I hardly recognized the thought that it had happened as it should. I had done everything I could to help Emily, and with each shuddering breath I took I felt my body diminish. I didn’t panic. I accepted that this was the end. And for once in my life I was ready to face the consequences of my actions.

At some point, the sounds of the city blocked out by the thick apartment walls, Emily and I were surprised when my mother arrived unannounced.

“Mrs. Portman?” Emily said when she pulled open the door.

“Emily.”

My mother walked in without being asked. She stopped when she saw me lying on the floor.

“Einstein,” she said simply.

I managed to lift my head and sniff. My eyesight was nearly gone, my sense of smell barely there. But I recognized the French milled soap she preferred, and I found comfort in that too. When I couldn’t hold my head up any longer, she walked over and squatted in front of me.

She looked at me, her eyes narrowing as she stared into mine. She didn’t pet me or say anything else. After a moment, she glanced up at Emily.

“Just so you know, I didn’t buy those paintings to save myself,” my mother said.

Emily looked confused.

“The paintings that I showed, the ones that weren’t mine.”

“Althea, you don’t need to explain.”

“But I do.” She stood and faced my wife. “Believe it or not, I didn’t do it because I refused to be embarrassed. I bought them so my husband wouldn’t be mortified when the critics annihilated the woman he had defended to his friends and family. I did it because I loved my husband and my son. But in doing so, I made a deal with the devil. The only way I could live with what I had done was to give up the thing that had made me who I was, my art.” She hesitated, her green eyes bright with emotion. “And that made me cold, unrelenting. I know that.”

Emily took a step toward her, but my mother quickly raised her chin. “Not that I think you care why I did it, or even that you should. But…” She nodded. “I wanted to explain.”

She reached into her handbag and pulled out some papers. “Here,” she said, extending them to Emily.

“What’s this?”

“Just read it.”

While Emily glanced through the papers, my mother turned back to where I lay panting on the floor.

“Einstein,” she said again.

It wasn’t a call to me, it wasn’t a question. It was some sort of mantra, a word spoken repeatedly to find a way into deeper meaning.

I heard Emily gasp. “You’re deeding me the suite upstairs?”

A jolt of adrenaline ran through me, enough that I was able to pick my head up off the floor.

“Yes,” Mother said.

“I don’t understand. I would never tell anyone about what’s in the journal. Why would you do this?”

“To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure. But if there is any truth to what you say, about Sandy making that promise…”

My shaky heart sputtered as my mother never took her gaze away from me, her words trailing off.

“You’re a strange old dog, Einstein,” my mother said, her voice soft, crouching down again. “I don’t know what to make of you.” She reached out, touching the very tip of my paw with her perfectly manicured hand. “But you make me feel the need to honor what perhaps really was my son’s wish. The suite is something that Emily can afford.”

As soon as she said the words aloud, she went bright red and stood.

“This whole situation has me acting daft. Take the apartment, Emily. Move your things upstairs and let’s be done with this. I’ll pay to have the apartments separated as they were originally.”

She left as quickly as she came, unable to deal with something beyond her understanding. Emily and I were in shock. But more than that I felt an even deeper peace. At some level my mother had recognized me, and had attempted to do the right thing in my honor.

I could feel Emily’s shock turn into amazement, and I tried to get up to show Emily how happy I was. But the stronger she became, the weaker Einstein grew. My body trembled from hackles to paw, like life passing through me, my breath coming out in a shuddering gasp.

“Oh, E,” she breathed. “You can’t go. Not now.” She leapt away. “I’m calling the vet.”

With what little strength I had left, I latched onto her pant leg with my teeth.

“No,” I managed to growl.

“You can’t give up, E.”

But I didn’t let go, not until I sensed her understanding.

Her breath sighed out of her as she lay down next to me on the floor. Tears welled up, spilling over. I strained to get closer.

“Please, Einstein. Let me get you to the vet.”