The Widow of Wall Street by Randy Susan Meyers

Author:Randy Susan Meyers
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Phoebe

Perhaps to prove how much he was not having an affair, Jake had almost attached himself to Phoebe that weekend. On Friday night, he even agreed to see Cry Freedom instead of Robocop.

On Saturday, they took a car service into Manhattan where Jake dropped her at Bergdorf Goodman’s with his American Express and strict instructions to scorch the card while he worked for a few hours.

During their Saturday night meal with Ollie and Poppy, he draped his arm over her shoulders except when actively putting food in his mouth.

On Sunday, they actually drove into Brooklyn with Noah and had dinner with her parents at Peter Luger Steak House, her father’s favorite place.

Three nights in a row, they made love, quite a record for a couple married over twenty years. “Is it the new perfume?” she’d asked at midnight on Sunday.

“All you.”

She didn’t believe him—if anything, it made her more suspicious, his need to show his devotion. Suspicion and actually wanting answers, however, turned out to be different animals.

What proof did she have? None.

Her qualms came from clean clothes, racquetball, and gossip about other women’s husbands. She’d shake this off—Jake’s addiction was money, not women. Where Ollie couldn’t keep his eyes in his head, even with Poppy across the table, Jake acted nothing but appropriate.

When Phoebe was there.

No. No man could carry on a charade that well. She compared him with those she knew best: her father, brother-in-law, and Helen’s husband. Jake fit in with their respect of family; not with Ollie, who pressed so close against her each time they hugged that she mentioned it to Jake.

He made a sound of deep repulsion. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t!” Why did she say that? Why did women feel a need to protect awful men from the truth of who they were; why were they afraid to have it revealed that they’d “told on him”?

“Do.” He’d cupped her face. “No one cheapens my wife.”

And though she’d rather he’d said that no one cheapens any woman, she loved his words.

Ollie never pushed himself on her again.

All weekend, no matter how hard she tried to push away the memories, Jake’s vague answers looped. The comfort Jake bought with spa treatments and new clothes had a short shelf life.

• • •

Phoebe was shocked at the time when she woke on Monday morning. When Jake had left before six, she’d treated herself by calling in to the shop and leaving a message to postpone their meeting for a few hours, never expecting to sleep past ten.

Phoebe stumbled into the shower, skipping coffee and breakfast, knowing she could get both at the store. She calmed her anxiety that she might be late through a series of deep breaths. And of course, her inhalations carried the scent of expensive lemon potpourri sold by a tiny shop in town.

Money muffled Phoebe’s world. The move from Brooklyn to Greenwich taught her what privilege meant. She had grown up in one of the best homes in her neighborhood, but walk a few blocks in any direction, and you ran into the shakier parts of life.

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