Outright lie number…well, it had already been more than one. How many lies would there be, Gretchen wondered, before all was said and done?
***
Gretchen’s parents had begrudgingly come to accept Richard, but Brooks had been more right than wrong about their response. Her mother, especially, never let her forget that they would have preferred she marry a young man from their world. Thus, forevermore, from her mother’s perspective, everything in Gretchen’s life that was difficult—even Becks’s colic!—was something she’d brought upon herself.
“Life involves choices. Don’t forget that you’ve made yours,” became her mother’s favorite saying.
But not all of Gretchen’s choices had been freely made. It had been her mother who’d shut down the idea of Gretchen going to law school, the second she announced their engagement, just weeks after Dartmouth graduation. Yes, it was quick in some ways. But they’d been dating for years. Also, she didn’t want to be separated from Richard, and it wasn’t as though her parents would have tolerated them living together. “That’s absurd. What do you need with a law degree?” her mother had demanded. “You’re getting married. You’ll have a family.”
They were shopping for wedding dresses at Vera Wang on Madison Avenue. These were the moments when Gretchen and her mother were at their best—when her mother found value inspending time together. She didn’t much like being mother of the bride. It made her feel old. But she did like shopping for expensive things.
“Mothers work these days,” Gretchen had shot back. “All the time.”
“Yes, sweetheart.” Her mother had laughed. “All the dreadful ones do.”
Gretchen never seriously considered law school again. How could she possibly when, over the years, her mother had occasionally been right about her marriage? Not right, exactly. But some of her digs had hit a little too close to home. For instance, Richard always insisting that they support themselves on his salary without the help of Gretchen’s trust didn’t exactly make life very comfortable in the early days. There had even been a few dark moments when Gretchen wondered if she should have married Brooks instead. It would have been ridiculous, of course, like marrying a brother. But deep down, she knew that Brooks would have jumped at the chance. Everyone knew it.
But then she’d inevitably be reminded in some small way of Richard’s warmth and genuineness—picking flowers in Central Park on his way home, leaving her these lovely little notes (always specific, thoughtful) on the bathroom mirror every morning before he left for work—and that rusty deadbolt on Gretchen’s heart would slide right open. She loved who she was when she was with him. More open to possibility than she ever could have imagined.
But it didn’t help that Richard traveled so much for work as he was climbing that (wholly unnecessary) Goldman Sachs ladder. There was nothing quite so consistent among men—regardless of their upbringing or earned success—as the fragility of their egos, and the lengths they would go to protect them.
“Work, work, work,” her best mom friend at the time, Samantha, had sympathized one morning after Gretchen had dropped Cassandra at preschool. They were walking in the park with their younger children, and she’d been complaining about Richard’s work hours, again. It set her teeth on edge to do it, her mother’svoice worming its way into her brain like some kind of parasite. Samantha’s husband was also a banker—Credit Suisse—and her children were almost the exact same ages as Gretchen’s. The Upper East Side was filled with wealthy blond women who looked like carbon copies of Gretchen. “Cartier widows,” they called themselves proudly, referring to the lavish jewelry they received from their husbands in lieu of actual companionship. But Gretchen hated the very assumption, especially because itwasn’ther story. She was freely choosing to be with Richard, which most of the time made her feel better. Even when sometimes it made her feel like an idiot.
“Do you know who she is?” Samantha had asked, instead of launching into her own complaints, as she usually did.
“ ‘She’?” Gretchen asked, stomach tumbling. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, never mind—don’t listen to me.” But the look on Samantha’s face—as far as she was concerned, Gretchen was a hapless babe in the woods who should be left alone to die a swift death. “Richard is so out in the open about everything—I’m sure he’s not actuallydoinganything. Also, not all husbands are mine!”
That had always been Gretchen’s thinking. Richard mentioned lots of people and some, yes, were young women—the brilliant young lawyer on his closing, that saleswoman at Sotheby’s, the new superstar in M&A. But he talked about the young men, too. It was only people with things to hide who hid things. Was that what every dumb wife thought?
And almost as testament to Gretchen’s faith in him, Richardhadeventually offered to quit his job, shortly after that ill-fated walk with Samantha. He could tell Gretchen was unhappy, and she was the most important thing in his life, he said. But as soon as he’d offered, the whole thing felt ridiculous. What was Gretchen so upset about, anyway? She wasn’t a Cartier widow. She was an independently wealthy woman making choices. She had vowed from that moment on never to let other people’s compromises become her own. People loved solidarity in their suffering, but Gretchen was no one’s ally except Richard’s. Besides, Richardwasn’t like other men. Once they’d settled the fact that he wasn’t going to quit, he’d even encouraged her to go to law school.
“This staying-home business,” he’d said, “it’s for the birds. You’re brilliant. You would make an incredible lawyer.” And he meant it. It was one of the things she loved most about him. He saw her as a whole person and respected every part of her—not just the aspects that served him, like a lot of men.
“I already have my hands full here, Richard.”
“We can get a nanny. We’ll make it work.”
But the truth was thatshewould have to make it work, wouldn’t she? Juggling a career as a lawyer, raising their children,andrunning the household? She knew plenty of other working women, and she had yet to see it play out as anything other than a yoke around the wife’s neck. The best they could hope for was a husband who would stand to the side empathetically pointing out how unfair everything was. As well intended as Richard was, he wasn’t going to suddenly change what the world expected of him.
“No, no, it’s just a hard phase,” Gretchen had assured Richard, and she believed it. “It will pass.”
And some things did eventually change. Cassandra had taken her intensity off to kindergarten. Elizabeth had stayed hard, always, but Gretchen at least learned not to take her oppositional nature so personally. Becks arrived, and his sweet, dreamy nature changed the dynamic, made things easier. Other things stayed the same—like Richard’s long, unpredictable hours and his many friends, and so Gretchen focused on building their life around his busy schedule—club memberships, board seats at Lincoln Center, and a full calendar of cocktail parties with good friends. Some things simply were what they were. If you changed your expectations, then nothing was a disappointment.
***
“You guys know anything about your dad and Frankie?” Scotty asked, turning to the children. Gretchen bristled at his calling that woman by her first name, like they were old friends.
But then Gretchen remembered that Scottydidknow her, asmuch as you could know anyone after ten days. But the first name made it sound likehehad had a relationship with her, which increased the likelihood Richard had.
“Of course not,” Cassandra said, resting her chin in her palm. She sounded exhausted, bored. “There’s nothingtoknow. This whole thing is so insane.”
“Our dad would never hurt anyone,” Becks said with uncharacteristic force.
“That’s for sure,” Elizabeth chimed in. “Never.”
“No, no,” Scotty added. “Of course he didn’t. I was asking more about Frankie in general, if he’d talked about her. I mentioned her to Hilary when I told her about the trip. Maybe he said something about Frankie’s life or her situation that might be relevant now, given what’s happened. Richard doesn’t think he said anything important. But being locked in a jail cell has a way of scrambling memories.”
