Читать книгу Body Language - Millie Criswell - Страница 13

“MOM, WHAT is it? Why are you crying? Is something the matter with Dad?”

“I’ll say there’s something the matter with your father,” Rosemary said in a voice that spewed venom. “Theodore Peters is a bastard. I hate him. He’s a sick man, that’s what he is.”

Ellie was stunned by her mother’s vehemence, and not because Rosemary’s sharp tongue couldn’t flay the skin off an adversary from twenty paces. But her venom was seldom directed at her husband. Rosemary didn’t believe swearing was appropriate behavior for a woman, no matter the upset.

Ellie wasn’t certain she could speak in complete sentences without swearing.

“Could you be more specific?” she asked, unsure if her father was actually sick, as in dying, and her mother hated him for that, or if there was something else wrong, like they’d argued over money. Not an unusual occurrence. But still, her heart raced at the thought that her father might be seriously ill and hadn’t told anyone.

“I hardly know where to start, Ellie. This isn’t something I want to discuss with you over the phone. I’d rather wait and tell you in person. The shock might be too much for you. I nearly fainted when I found out.”

Rosemary’s voice cracked, and Ellie’s heart began to pound in her ears. “Dad’s got cancer, doesn’t he? He’s dying, right?” Tears filled her eyes. “Omigod! When did you find out? How long does he have to live? I’ll book a flight, and—”

“He doesn’t have cancer, but that bastard will wish he was dead when I get through with him.”

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, she tried to calm herself. It was clear that her mother was distraught for reasons known only to her and Ellie knew she needed to have patience in dealing with the distressed woman. “Calm down, and tell me what happened. You’re scaring me. And start from the beginning, okay? I’m sure whatever the matter is, we can work it out.”

“Remember how I told you that your father has been spending all of his time on the Internet, and that he didn’t want to do anything else but fiddle with his computer?”

Ellie started to get a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that no amount of Zantac could touch. “Yes,” she said cautiously. “You mentioned that the other day when we talked.”

“But what I didn’t mention was that he’s always so secretive when he’s online. He moved his computer into the spare bedroom several months ago and he stays in there for hours on end. When I complained Ted told me he was working on client accounts or getting his stock quotes updated. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I feel like such a fool.”

Ellie’s head began to hurt. This was starting to sound like a nail-in-the-coffin alert.

“Anyway, I went on the computer a little while ago, to find the cruise rates, like you suggested. Your father went to the barbershop to get his haircut, like he does every Saturday morning, so I thought it would be a good time to look for the prices and surprise him with the information when he got home.

“But I was the one who got surprised. What I found out broke my heart.” Rosemary started sobbing again. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. How could Ted do this to me? After all these years of marriage…”

“It can’t be as bad as all that, Mom. Please don’t cry.” Rosemary’s tears were as foreign to Ellie as not eating chocolate. It just didn’t happen.

Her mother sucked in her breath, blew her nose, then blurted, “Your father is having an affair! There, I said it. It wasn’t easy, but I said it.”

There was a moment of stunned silence while Ellie digested what her mother had just said. “What? What do you mean…an affair?” Surely her mother was mistaken, overwrought….

Insane?

“You know, the kind that older men have on the Internet.”

“Oh, you mean he’s been visiting porn sites?” She felt a rush of relief. That wasn’t as bad as the other, though it was still out of character for her father.

“Probably. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I think it’s called a cyberaffair. I found e-mails from another woman, some bimbo named Michelle.

“They’ve been exchanging e-mails for months, talking about sex and all sorts of disgusting, perverted things that they’d like to do to each other. And it may have gone beyond talking. But I’m not certain of that yet.”

Knowing Rosemary’s determination to get to the bottom of things, Ellie figured she would be certain, and soon.

“What I am certain of is that my life is ruined. Your father has found another woman to replace me—a younger woman would be my guess. Out with the old, in with the new, as they say. I gave that man thirty-five years—the best years of my life—and this is how I’m repaid?”

Ellie felt on the verge of puking. This couldn’t be happening. Not with her father, the man she adored—the man she respected more than anyone else in the world.

Theodore Peters had always been a straight shooter and the most honorable man on the face of the planet. Her father didn’t drink, smoke, curse, or use violence. He’d always been the perfect, loving father and, she’d thought, husband.

“You must be wrong, Mom. Maybe it’s a joke. You know, with a co-worker or someone he has business dealings with. Dad’s never done anything like this before.” She swallowed, getting the courage up to ask, “Has he?”

“No, of course not, at least, not that I know of. But just the other day he started a diet and exercise program, insisting that it was time he got into shape, and he’s never been concerned about his appearance or weight before.

“I think he’s worried about getting old and needs to prove that he’s still a man—a male menopause type of thing, if you know what I mean. I hear it’s common with men his age.”

“But you wanted Dad to lose weight; you told me so yourself when we spoke on the phone the other day. He’s probably just taking your suggestion, trying to make you happy.”

“I wish that were true, Ellie, but I don’t think so. Ted bought aftershave. Your father hasn’t worn aftershave in the thirty-five years I’ve been married to him. He said it made him sneeze. And I saw him looking at the men’s hair coloring yesterday while we were at the supermarket.”

Ellie knew the aftershave story was true because all of the Jade East, English Leather and Old Spice colognes she had given her father as a kid every Christmas still remained unopened in his medicine cabinet. She had thought it endearing that he’d kept them, in spite of his allergy.

“What did Dad say when you spoke to him about this?”

“I haven’t spoken to him about it yet. I’m not sure what I’m going to say. I only know that we’re through. I can never trust Ted again. Who knew he could be so deceitful. I always thought he was an honorable man.”

“Dad is an honorable man, Mom,” Ellie insisted. “Something is obviously very wrong, and you need to find out what. Maybe he’s got a brain tumor—that affects people in different ways.”

“How could he have a tumor? He doesn’t have a brain.”

“You’ve got to think this through rationally, after you’ve had time to digest everything. You and Dad need marriage counseling. You can’t just throw away thirty-five years and call it quits.”

“I’m not the one who needs a shrink. That would be your perverted father. He’s the one sending love letters to other women.”

Ellie sighed. “Mom…”

“What am I going to do now? I’m fifty-five years old. Who’s going to want me now?”

The hurt, fear and insecurity Ellie heard in her mother’s voice filled her with sadness and empathy. As a woman who’d been dumped by the man she loved, she could relate. As a woman who was presently without a man in her life and had none on the horizon, except for her gay trainer, but he didn’t count, she could relate.

As a woman who believed men thought primarily with the appendage dangling between their legs, she could most certainly relate!

Sucking in her breath, Ellie tried to sound calm and reasonable, though she was feeling anything but. “Mom, you’re a lovely woman, and you’re definitely not over the hill. But I don’t think you should be thinking along those lines just yet. You don’t have all the facts. You need to talk to Dad and find out what’s been going on, and for how long, who this woman is, if he’s been seeing her in person, or if it’s just an Internet type of infatuation.”

“What do you mean, just? He betrayed our marriage vows. I read some of the mail he sent to her. It was disgusting. He talked about how he wanted to kiss her breasts, and other more personal areas. That bastard hasn’t kissed my breasts in over fifteen years. Not to mention that he’s never done the other thing.”

Ick factor alert! Ick factor alert!

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the images. “Please, Mom, you don’t need to go into detail. What you and Dad do privately is—”

“And do you think he ever takes me out? Or buys me flowers or candy? I should die before he’d ever put his hand in his pocket to buy me a present. But he bought that puttana, that whore, a bracelet. I saw her thank-you e-mail. And she mentioned diamonds. Diamonds! Can you imagine? I’m just sick about it. My engagement ring is so small that I need a magnifying glass to see the stone.”

Ellie heaved a sigh, wondering how any man could be so foolish, but wondering in particular how her sensitive, intelligent father could have done what her mother was accusing him of. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I don’t know what to say, except I love you and you will get through this, but it’s going to take some time.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart, which is why I’m coming to New York to stay with you for a while. I need time to think things through. We’ll have a wonderful time, you’ll see.”

WHOA, MAMA!

Ellie’s ears began ringing. She hit the side of her head with her palm, just to make sure she’d heard Rosemary correctly. “What did you say?”

“I need time away from here, Ellie. I’m going to come and stay with you. The change of scenery will do me good.”

Ellie wanted to be a good daughter. She wanted to be supportive during her mother’s difficult time.

But…holy shit! She did not want her mother, aka Mrs. Clean, for a roommate.

“Mom, wait! I don’t think that’s a very good idea. You need to work things out with Dad, or at least try to work things out. Promise me you’ll try.”

“I’ll talk to your father when he gets home. But I’m not making any promises. I’m a proud woman. I’m not going to take second place to every bimbo that comes along. I respect myself more than that.”

“I want you to call me as soon as you’ve spoken to Dad and let me know what he has to say. I’m sure he’s going to apologize and be extremely sorry for hurting you like this. No doubt he thought it was a harmless flirtation.”

“With a harmless flirtation, you get a card. Diamonds put this into a whole other category. You’re a woman, Ellie. You know what I’m talking about.”

Unfortunately, Ellie did.

First Michael shows up, then she finds out that her hunky trainer is gay, and now this.

Her life was getting too damn complicated. It was spinning out of control, going down the toilet, and taking her with it.

THE WEEKEND PASSED without Ellie hearing back from her mother, which had her worried sick.

She’d called several times, but had received no answer and had debated about hopping on a plane and flying down to Miami, to see for herself exactly what was going on. But she had finally decided against it, hoping her parents were trying to work things out. If that was the case, they needed the time alone.

And today being Monday, she knew it was going to be a crazy day at work. Mondays were always the worst, for some reason. Apparently, if you were going to start an international incident or blow up the world, Monday was the day to do it.

As a translator, she was required to service up to seven meetings per week, each usually lasting no more than three hours, which was enough, as it was a mentally exhausting task. And Mondays were one of her busiest days.

“Did you hear about Mr. Moody?” Becky asked when Ellie arrived at her workstation, which looked like it came right out of a ’50s movie—gunmetal gray with an industrial feel to it. The only saving grace was the tall windows that surrounded the building, allowing plenty of light to pour in. To the right she could see the Chrysler Building and Empire State Building, to the left, the East River and Queens. That is, when she actually had time to look out the window, which wasn’t often.

“No,” Ellie replied, turning on her computer and placing her purse in the bottom drawer of the metal desk. “Is he ill?”

“He’s gone. Moody’s gone.”

Ellie spun around and was surprised by the concerned look on her friend’s face. Becky was not an alarmist.

“What do you mean, gone? Gone, as in dead?” She disliked Moody, but she didn’t want him dead, although a minor intestinal upset wouldn’t have been out of the question.

“I think he’s been replaced. It’s all been very hush-hush since I came in this morning.” Becky handed Ellie a cup of coffee. “Something’s up. I can feel it.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. “Replaced? By whom?” Surely she would have heard something if that were the case.

Just then, Jane Blumley, one of their co-workers, walked by and stopped, an eager look on her face. “I guess you heard about Moody? I think he’s been axed.” She made a cutting motion across her throat.

Jane wasn’t a particularly attractive woman—her nose was too large and her hair was so thin she looked bald in spots—but what she didn’t possess in looks she made up for in her ability to disseminate gossip.

The grapevine at the U.N. was rife with gossip, rumor and innuendo, and not just the political stuff. If you were engaged in sex with a co-worker, bought a new pair of expensive shoes, or washed and waxed your car over the weekend, it was talked about, dissected, and circulated in a matter of minutes on Monday morning.

“There’s probably a memo on your computer,” Becky said. “I got one this morning, though it doesn’t explain very much. Each of us in translation and interpretation is to have a one-on-one meeting, where the changes will be explained and the new director introduced.”

“Just like that.” Ellie snapped her fingers. “No notice, no nothing. How do we know we aren’t going to be sacked?” Which might have already happened to Moody, but most likely he’d been put out to pasture. And she couldn’t take exception to that decision. The man was a relic, and his being let go was way overdue.

Checking her e-mail, she found the memo Becky had referred to and shook her head. “It’s not even signed. How mysterious is that?”

“Maybe Moody hasn’t been replaced as yet. Maybe they’re going to select one of us to head up the department.”

Ellie smiled at her friend’s naiveté. “Nice thought, but not likely to happen, Becky. They’ll replace Moody with someone who has a lot more experience than we do. Just to make senior interpreter requires at least ten years of internationally recognized interpreting experience. We’ve still got a ways to go, I’m thinking.”

Becky sighed. “I hope I don’t get fired. We think we’ve found the house we’re going to buy.”

Ah. That explained the alarm.

“Really?” Ellie smiled, happy for her friend, though she wondered how they could afford it. Becky and Ben were always having financial problems and had borrowed money from Ben’s parents just last year to make ends meet.

Borrowing money from your parents or in-laws was an open invitation for them to move in with you after they retired. Ellie had decided long ago that she’d rather starve than take that step. Not that she didn’t love her parents, but what grown child wanted to live with them?

Which brought to mind her mother’s intention to come and stay with her. Ellie’s stomach soured at the thought.

“That’s great, Becky.” She tried to sound cheerful and upbeat.

“Not really. It’s the house next door to Ben’s parents.”

“Well, at least you’d have a built-in baby-sitter. There’s always that to consider.”

Okay, so finding positives wasn’t all that easy. At least she was trying.

“It wouldn’t be worth it. Ben’s mother thinks she knows everything about running a household and taking care of children. She’d drive me nuts in two seconds. And she’d have Jonah spoiled rotten in less time than that.”

“So tell Ben no. You still have that option, you know. He’s your husband, not your father. And you do have a say in what happens in your marriage; it’s a partnership, remember?”

Becky looked conflicted, which was how the woman went through life, unfortunately. She hadn’t yet learned that you can’t please all of the people all of the time. “But Ben’s so excited about the prospect of having a home of our own, where he can put up a swing set for the baby, and—”

“Listen to yourself. Jonah is ten months old. He’s not going to be using a swing set for a couple more years. In the meantime, you’re stuck with mommy dearest. If I were you, I’d say something to Ben, and soon.”

“I guess you’re right.” But Becky didn’t look at all convinced by Ellie’s argument. “Enough about me,” she said, obviously eager to change the subject. “How was your weekend? Did you do anything fun and exciting?”

Before Ellie could respond, her friend added, a wistful note to her voice, “I miss the single life. Don’t get me wrong. I love Ben and Jonah—they’re my whole life. But I miss going out with the girls and meeting interesting men, shopping till I drop and buying the most outrageous, impractical shoes that I can find.” She sighed. “Now I scour the shelves for the cheapest kind of disposable diapers. Sometimes I think I made a mistake by getting married.”

Uh-oh.

Something sounded rotten in paradise, and she hoped the signal Becky was sending was wrong. She’d read that women often became depressed after childbirth and prayed that Becky’s disillusionment with married life was nothing more than a hormone imbalance.

“The single life’s not that great, Becky, and you know it. We all want what you have.” Sort of. Well, except for the poopy diapers and controlling husband. And that house thing next door to mommy dearest was definitely out.

The unhappy woman shrugged. “I guess. But I bet you did something wildly exciting.”

“Hardly. I was supposed to go out clubbing with my friend, Steffie, but I wasn’t in the mood after my mom called, so I canceled.” She explained the phone call, relating her parents’ present situation. Becky looked suitably horrified.

“My father had an affair with his secretary when I was a teenager. It was a horrible mess.”

“What happened? Did your mother ever forgive him?”

Becky shook her head. “No, she divorced him and still won’t talk to him to this day. It makes the holidays very difficult, not to mention that our wedding was a nightmare. ‘Who’ll give the bride away? Dad number one, or husband number two?’ Dad won out, because I insisted, but not before the War of the Roses Part Two aired.”

“Has your father remarried?”

“When my mother flatly refused to take him back, Dad married the woman with whom he’d had the affair. It lasted less than six months. Apparently living with her wasn’t the same thrill as banging her.”

“If I can’t convince my mother to stay in Florida and work things out with my dad, my life as we know it will be over.”

“Wish I could be more optimistic, but based on my own experience, I’d say it doesn’t look good. The only thing you have going for you is that the affair took place on the Internet and not in person.”

“Well, Mom’s still not one hundred percent sure about that. I haven’t had confirmation as yet.”

“Oy! Parents. I thought we were the ones who were supposed to screw up their lives, not the other way around. They’re older and should know better.”

“True. And we’ve got enough to worry about. Our jobs could be hanging in the balance, our futures left in the hands of some unknown entity.”

Ellie’s computer signaled that she had mail. She hoped it was from her mother, but it wasn’t. It was a summons to appear in the office of the now defunct Herbert Moody.

Normally Ellie felt confident about her position. She was good at her job, and everyone around her knew it. But today for some reason she was filled with unease. The unknown always frightened her.

Mr. Moody might have been a turd, but he was her turd.

ELLIE DID NOT FEEL one iota better after talking about the possibility of her parents divorcing. Becky made it sound like a fait accompli, that there was no hope for her parents whatsoever.

So, as she made her way down the long hallway to what used to be Herbert Moody’s office for her so-called “interview,” she decided that if Rosemary did actually come to visit—please, God, save me!—she would do everything in her power to push for a reconciliation.

It was her duty as a daughter.

It was her duty as a woman who preferred sanity to madness.

It was her duty as—

The door was ajar, and as she stepped into the outer office, butterflies began beating viciously against the lining of her stomach. Placing her hand over it to calm her nerves, she smiled at the white-haired receptionist.

“Hello, Mrs. Greenlaw. How are you?”

“Hello, dear,” the older woman said. “Nice to see you again. It’ll be just a minute.”

Mrs. Greenlaw had worked for Mr. Moody for over thirty-four years and had survived with most of her brain matter and good humor intact, which Ellie thought was nothing short of a miracle.

“And what shall I call our new director, Mrs. Greenlaw? The memo didn’t list a name, which was probably just an oversight.”

“Oh, no, dear. That’s the way the director wanted them sent. Said he didn’t want anyone to form any preconceived opinions before he had a chance to talk to them.”

Thinking that was a strange approach, Ellie’s eyes widened momentarily. Maybe he was someone infamous, like O. J. Simpson, whom everyone knew had killed his wife, but was trying to start anew, anyway. Or that guy they sent to prison for stock fraud before it became fashionable and everyone started doing it.

The buzzer on the secretary’s phone intercom buzzed. “You may go in now, Ellie. Mr….” She got flustered and covered her mouth, then tee-heed about her almost gaffe. “The director is waiting to meet you.”

Pasting on a smile, Ellie smoothed out the skirt of her black wool Ann Taylor suit and pushed open the door.

The tall man in question was standing at the wall of windows with his back to her. The office was dimly lit, made even darker by the lack of sunlight. A light rain had been falling for hours, the sky gunmetal gray, which pretty much matched her mood.

“You asked to see me, Mr.—” She froze, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she zeroed in on the nameplate gracing the desk.

“Deavers.”