Читать книгу The Betrayal - Terry Lynn Thomas - Страница 10

Oh, God, no. Olivia wanted to run. Like a trapped deer, her eyes darted around the room, looking for a means of escape. Richard approached Olivia, arms wide to take her into a hug. Not wanting him to touch her, Olivia started to recoil but stopped herself as she caught Denny’s look of shock. Olivia Sinclair, who prided herself on keeping her cool under any circumstance, felt her composure slipping away. Someone snapped a picture, the strobe of the flash like a jolt of lightning.

Moving towards her once again, Richard said, “Happy birthday, honey.” Olivia let him kiss her cheeks. Then she moved on to Denny, pulling her daughter into her arms.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Denny whispered into Olivia’s ear.

“I’m okay. Just a bit shocked.” Olivia meandered through the crowd, greeting people she hadn’t seen in ages. She reached Wendy Betters last. Wendy had worked for Richard’s law firm, Rincon Sinclair, since she was an undergrad. Over the years she and Olivia had forged a strong friendship. Wendy took Olivia’s hand and said to the crowd of people around them, “I need to speak to the birthday girl for a moment.” She led Olivia away and stepped close to her. “Are you all right?”

Olivia’s heart thumped in her chest. All she wanted to do was scream.

“Olivia, talk to me? What can I do to help?”

“Nothing.” Olivia’s voice came out a whisper. “Thank you though.”

“Take a minute to pull yourself together. I’ll tell everyone you went to change your clothes, okay?” Wendy peered around the corner into the room where the party was in full swing. “It’s okay to slip away for a couple of minutes.”

“Thank you, Wendy.” Eager for even a few minutes of privacy, Olivia set her champagne down and excused herself, a fake smile plastered on her face. For a moment, she thought about walking out the front door and away from the house, but she couldn’t do that to Denny. Four waiters circled the room passing out flutes of Dom Perignon. The dining room table had been converted to a buffet covered in white linen. She caught a glimpse of lobster tails, salads, and cracked crab. A white-coated chef sliced a chateaubriand into thin slices. The lights had been dimmed, so the candles that blazed in the silver candelabras lent a romantic air to the whole scene. A full bar had been situated on the far wall of the dining room, and now a bartender mixed martinis for Stephen Vine and his wife.

Careful not to make eye contact with anyone, Olivia hurried down the dark corridor to her room. After closing and locking her bedroom door, she stood in the dark for a moment, wishing she could stay here for the rest of the night, alone. After slipping out of her work clothes, she put on a pair of black pants and a cream cashmere sweater. A couple of splashes of cold water on her face and she’d be good as new. There were enough people in the house so that she could tactfully avoid Richard without anyone noticing. She’d put on a brave face for a couple of hours. After the guests were gone, she’d deal with her philandering husband.

Richard was waiting for her when she opened the bedroom door, and judging by the expression on his face, he wasn’t happy. “What are you doing in here? Do you know how hard Denny and I worked to put this party together? Get out there and be with your guests. If not for me, at least for your daughter’s sake.”

She stared at him for a moment, this man she believed had loved her with the same fierce loyalty that she had held for him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Richard said.

“Why are you taking that tone with me? I don’t appreciate it.” Olivia shivered as she saw her Richard for who he really was. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

In an instant, the state of their marriage crystalized. The clarity proved an effective antidote, for all the hurt and anger dissipated, giving her strength. Olivia knew what she had to do. She made to slip past Richard and get back to her guests, back to Denny. Richard grabbed her arm and whispered in her ear, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

Olivia looked down at Richard’s fingers clamped against the fleshy part of her arm. She looked up and met his eyes without fear. “Let go of me.”

He let her go and stepped away.

“I’ll play along. After the guests leave, we’ll talk.”

“About what?” Richard asked.

“Our divorce,” Olivia said. And with those words she turned her back on him and headed back to her party.

The guests consisted mostly of lawyers and judges, acquaintances of Richard’s. Leave it to him to use her birthday to schmooze and entertain people who had influence over his career. Somehow managing to push her feelings away, she circulated, smiled, and chatted with people who she never saw socially anymore.

Despite her best efforts, she was unable to make a connection with her son-in-law. It seemed every time she tried to speak to him, he was tucked into a corner with Richard, talking as though they were old friends. David had always treated Richard with insincere deference. Richard, in keeping with his giant ego, had lapped up the attention.

She wondered for a moment how many of these people would remain in her life after she and Richard divorced, and surprised herself by not caring. The volume of conversation increased as people consumed more alcohol. Soon the jazz that was in the background was switched to the R&B songs that Olivia and Richard had danced to in the 1980s.

Someone moved the couches and coffee table to free up the living room floor. Soon the music got loud, a blessing in Olivia’s mind as it gave her an excuse not to engage in conversation. People danced. Olivia mingled. Every time someone handed her a glass of champagne or wine, she would thank them and set it down, never taking a sip. She planned on being perfectly sober by the time she confronted Richard.

When she retreated to the kitchen for a glass of water, she found Denny and David in the middle of an intense conversation. David was towering over Denny and doing most of the talking.

When Olivia said, “Everything all right?” they stepped away from each other. David gave her his usual cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes and Olivia wondered, not for the first time, what Denny saw in him.

“Are you enjoying your party?” David asked.

“I am.” She turned her gaze to Denny, noticing her daughter’s damp eyelashes. “Thank you for planning it, Den. The catering and the decorating has your touch of elegance.”

“I enjoyed it,” Denny said. “Nice to know I still have an eye.”

Richard and Olivia had hoped their daughter would follow in their footsteps and go to law school. As it turned out, Denny had no interest in a four-year degree. Instead, she had attended community college and studied painting. Denny was a shy, sweet-natured woman who was impeccably organized, easy to talk to, and very creative. When her best friend got married, Denny offered to organize the wedding and the reception. She did such a good job that two other brides-to-be pulled her aside at the wedding and offered her a generous fee if she would plan their weddings as well.

Denny’s career was launched. She loved her job and it showed. Soon she had more business than she could handle and was on the verge of hiring an assistant and expanding, when she met David Grayson at a fundraiser for Children’s Hospital in Oakland.

David – tall, dark, and handsome – had swept Denny off her feet. The romance had been a whirlwind, culminating in a marriage proposal after just six months. At the beginning, David was attentive to Denny and friendly to Olivia and Richard. Olivia had never liked him, and because she couldn’t put her finger on the reason for her dislike, Richard teased her relentlessly, accusing her of not wanting to let her daughter go and of being too possessive.

David and Denny married within a year at the Marin Art and Garden Center, Denny pulling strings and calling in many favors to reserve the popular venue on such short notice. Olivia had been surprised when Denny had given up her business to be with David.

“Don’t be giving her ideas,” David said abruptly. “We don’t want Denny to think she can get back into party planning, do we? I need her at home with me.” David put his arm around Denny and pulled her close. Though he smiled, the gesture felt an act of physical domination. And there was no mistaking the flash of irritation in Denny’s eyes.

“I think Denny should be able to do whatever she wants,” Olivia said.

“Mom, don’t,” Denny said, her tone sharp like a slap across the face.

“Sorry,” Olivia said, putting her hands up in the air. “Forgive me. I’ve had a long day.”

“No worries,” David said. “We were just leaving anyway. Getting ready to say our goodbyes.”

“I should stay and help clean up,” Denny said. “I’ve got my car—”

“No, you’ll come with me. I’ll bring you to get your car in the morning,” David said.

“Okay,” Denny said.

“I’ll get our coats.” David nodded at Olivia and left them alone.

The minute he was out of earshot, Denny said, “Don’t say a word, Mom, okay? I know you think he’s bossy. But he’s stressed from his job.”

“It’s okay, honey. I wasn’t going to say anything.” Olivia had no business to criticize Denny’s marriage, did she? Especially in light of her own situation. “You did a beautiful job on my party. Thank you.” Olivia felt her eyes fill with unshed tears.

“Mom? Why are you crying?”

Olivia pulled Denny into a hug. “Because I’m so happy.” She lied easily. “And because I’m very proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? If it’s sunny maybe we could go for a walk.”

“Okay,” Olivia said. And with a wave, Denny was gone.

An hour later all of the other guests were gone too, save Richard’s business partner, Andrew Rincon, and another man who Olivia didn’t know. They sat with Richard in the living room, a bottle of Scotch on the table, talking in hushed whispers, oblivious to the fact that the party was over and everyone had left. Olivia took this opportunity to go into the bedroom and pack two suitcases for Richard. She took them into the hallway. That task completed, she called a locksmith, asking for an emergency change of locks.

“I can do it, but it’s not going to be cheap,” the man who answered the phone said.

“No problem. Can you be here in an hour?”

“See you then.”

After forwarding the video to Richard, Olivia sat in her room with the lights out, waiting for the last of the guests to leave. Once she and Richard were the only people in the house, Olivia made her way to the living room, where Richard stood with his back to her, a fresh glass of Scotch in his hand. She watched him swirl the ice around for a minute before he took a sip. She waited, letting her anger build along with her anticipation. When would he notice her? There she stood, reflected in the window right before his eyes. Yet he didn’t see her. Somehow this seemed a metaphor for their marriage, now that she knew it was over.

At last he looked up. From the squaring of his shoulders, she knew he’d finally noticed her reflection.

“Why did you threaten me with divorce?”

“I know.”

“Know what? I’m not in the mood for games, Liv. What are you playing at?”

“Now I know why you leave the room when you make certain phone calls, why you double-check if I’m near before you check your texts. God, I’ve been so naïve. I’m finished, Richard. Finished with you. Finished with our marriage.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Check your email.”

Olivia waited while Richard pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the email. She watched while the look in his eyes went from smug, to incredulity, to anger.

“Who’s the blonde, Richard?” Olivia didn’t bother to keep the disgust out of her voice.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve planting a camera in the studio. Jesus, Olivia. I didn’t realize you’d become so desperate.”

“I didn’t plant the video, Richard. How dare you! I’ve not set foot in that studio for ages, and you know it.”

“Olivia, listen—”

Richard moved close to Olivia. Instinctively she stepped away. “Stay away from me,” she hissed. “Who is she?”

“She’s my secretary.”

“Oh, my God. What a cliché.”

“She didn’t mean anything to me, Liv. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Are you serious? If I was going to cheat, at least I’d be damn sure it meant something. How many times, Richard?”

“How many—”

“Times. How many times have you cheated on me?” Although she was well aware of the white-hot rage that broiled under her skin, Olivia tucked it away to deal with later. She spoke without emotion, pretending she was in court, examining a witness. “I assume there have been others. Come on, Richard. This is the time for honesty. How many times?”

He stared at her, his surprise replaced by irritation.

“How. Many. Times?”

Sighing loudly, Richard shook his head. “Men have needs, Liv. Don’t take it personally. In Europe, it’s an accepted practice.”

“Get out of my house,” Olivia said, her voice flat and dull as stagnant water. “I’ve packed your suitcases. They’re by the front door. You can get your other things when it’s convenient.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Liv. I don’t take orders from anyone. And this isn’t your house.”

“Get. Out. Of. My. House.” Without thinking, Olivia moved to the fireplace, grabbed the poker, and brandished it at Richard.

Raising his hands, he backed away. “Olivia, you need to calm down.”

“I could bash your head in right now and happily go to prison. Get the hell out of my house.”

His fear turned to rage as he stared at her, his eyes running over her tattered jeans, her makeup-free face. Angry blotches of red bloomed on his face as he pushed past her, grabbed his suitcases and walked out the front door, away from their marriage, away from their life together. Olivia once heard someone say the best way to make God laugh was to make plans. Oh, what grand plans she’d had! And now they were gone, obliterated.

After the locksmith left, she made herself a large cup of chamomile tea and, bundled up in warm clothes, took the steaming mug out into the garden. It was pitch dark on the sloping hill behind her house, but Olivia knew the footpaths – she had built them, after all – and didn’t need light to find her way to the gazebo at the bottom of the hill. The hot tea tasted good, comforting as an old friend, as she sat in the dark in the garden she loved.

She stayed outside for hours, impervious to the cold, and reflected on her marriage. Over the years Olivia had tried to create a social life for Richard and herself. She had made friends with other couples, tried to host dinner parties and social gatherings. But more often than not, Richard had ended up canceling at the last minute, using his litigation schedule as an excuse, leaving Olivia to host their social functions alone. This had happened so many times, Olivia had stopped trying.

Most women – Olivia reluctantly acknowledged – would have left Richard years ago. But Olivia had believed she understood Richard and his focus on his career. She had believed in their marriage and saw this cycle of waiting, disappointment, forgiveness as proof of her loyalty towards him. In her mind, this loneliness, this waiting for Richard to take his place by her side, was a condition of their union. Like a fool, she had accepted it because at the end of the day, she had loved her husband and the idea of a family.

Had Richard ever loved her? How smug he had been when he had confessed his infidelity to her, almost as if it were a mark of his masculinity. With a wave of sadness, Olivia realized there would be no more waiting for Richard. Her marriage was over. And much to Olivia’s surprise, underneath the pain, she was overcome with a tangible sense of relief.