The Last Original Wife

  “Yes, thank you,” I said. “I do.”

  It was a little bit like getting the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. Our work was finished. I felt an enormous sense of relief. And I was very proud of myself.

  Wes followed me out to the garage. I clicked my key in the right spot and the lights of my new car flashed. I opened the door to get in, tossing my purse across to the passenger seat.

  “You’re really leaving me, aren’t you?” he said.

  “Pay attention, Wes. I already did.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Wes—More Hell Breaks Loose

  I stopped by my office after our last session with the shrinks, and I have to admit I didn’t know what to do with myself. The thought of not coming here to my office every day was very destabilizing. True, I wanted to play golf all over the country, but what if I got bored? And would my mind go to mush without all the challenges in business that shaped my life?

  Even though I was driving again in the past few days and I felt fine, the pathology report still had not come in yet. But bad news traveled at the speed of light, so I kept telling myself I was cancer free. And because I had taken off so much time from the office, there were no messages and nothing really to do, except read sales reports. I could do that at home. Les would already be on her way back to Charleston. I still couldn’t believe I’d forgotten her birthday. I’d send her flowers or something.

  I called Harold and gave him the rundown on Les’s proposal.

  “Should I get a lawyer?” I said.

  “Nah, at this stage, you should get a martini. How are you feeling? Why don’t we meet in the grill room for an early supper? How’s six?”

  “I feel great. Dinner sounds like a plan. Yeah, call Paolo, will you? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

  “Sure thing. I’ve got a story to tell y’all.”

  “Tell me now,” I said.

  “You’re worse than a girl, Wes. This story needs alcohol and face time.”

  “Okay.”

  Hell, I’d had cancer, my career was at an end, and I was losing my wife and half my assets. What could Harold possibly have to tell us that could top that?

  I decided to take a walk down Peachtree Street and stop at the first decent restaurant I passed to have a little lunch. I needed to clear my head. It was Friday afternoon and hot as all hell, so most of the executive floor was empty, except for the secretaries. I threw the stack of sales reports in my briefcase and took the elevator down to the street. I left my briefcase with Charlie at the front desk so I wouldn’t have to carry it in the heat.

  “Charlie? Where’s the nearest coffee shop that you like? Or a deli where I can just grab a sandwich.”

  “If you go out and make a right, go down two blocks and cross the street there’s a Greek restaurant on that block. Athena’s Café or something like that. They make a great chicken salad with those stuffed grape leaves? I eat there all the time.”

  “Right! Athena’s! I always forget about that place. Thanks, I’m sick of our cafeteria food. And I need to stretch my legs. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  “By the way, Mr. Carter? There was a redhead here about twenty minutes ago who wanted to come up and see you and then she changed her mind.”

  “Same one who was here a while back?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Cornelia? Cornelia Stovall?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. I’m pretty sure. Funny, she asked me for a lunch place too. I sent her to Athena’s. You might bump into her.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up, Charlie. See you soon.”

  What in the world did Cornelia want with me now? I may as well find out and deal with it. I made my way down the street, not thinking about much more than reaching air-conditioning and what I felt like eating. I wasn’t sure I had the strength for Cornelia. Maybe she had just gone home. But the doctor said it was good for me to walk, so I was following doctor’s orders and sweating like a workhorse. I pushed open the heavy door of Athena’s Café and into blessed cold air. Who did I spot in a booth, reading a menu? She took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were swollen and red.

  “Cornelia, sweetheart! What’s the matter? Mind if I join you?” I sat down on the bench seat opposite her.

  “Oh, Wes! I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve got a huge problem.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Harold wants to kill me and Molly wants to call off the wedding, and they both hate my guts!”

  “Why? What in the world has happened?”

  “Things were going so well between Harold and me after the last time you and I talked. You know, things were working? In the bedroom?”

  Was she going to tell the whole blooming world?

  “Ssssh! Yes, I understand!”

  “And now . . . I don’t think we can put this one behind us, Wes. I think we’re really done now.”

  She began to cry. I thought, Wow, I’ve seen more of Cornelia’s tears in the last few weeks than I ever saw of Les’s in years.

  “Tell me what’s the matter, Cornelia? If you don’t tell me, I can’t help you.”

  “Okay. Well, Molly? The one I thought I could be such great friends with? She’s marrying Shawn, right? Well, you won’t believe this but I used to . . . well, date him?”

  “What?” Was she kidding?

  “Yeah. Apparently, Molly doesn’t like the idea that her stepmother slept with her future husband.” She took a tissue from her handbag and blew her nose.

  This took a moment to compute. The waitress approached and handed me a menu.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” she said.

  “Another Diet Coke,” said Cornelia, sniffing.

  “Same for me,” I said. Then I whispered to her. “Wait a minute, you slept with her fiancé?”

  “It was a long time ago, and it only happened once. Okay, maybe more than once. Okay, maybe we hooked up a lot. But for God’s sake, why did he tell her? Isn’t that the most stupid thing you’ve ever heard?”

  “It’s out there, all right.” The whole generation of kids from Charlotte’s age to Cornelia’s were royally screwed up. “My father used to always say that discretion was the better part of valor.” I felt a thousand years old and removed from Cornelia’s generation by light-years.

  “Yeah, well, that stuff was before Facebook.”

  “Are you telling me this fella put the intimate nature of your relationship with him on Facebook? What in the world is the matter with him?”

  “No! She put it on Facebook! That’s how I found out that she knew. I mean, she said it in a roundabout way, something like What would you do if you found out your future stepmother used to hook up with your fiancé?”

  That wasn’t a roundabout way in my book.

  “Holy whopping hell!” I felt almost the same distress that she did. “What did you do?”

  “Well, we’re Facebook friends, so I denied it! What would you do?”

  “I’d deny it too! Without a doubt! Great God! I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

  The waitress returned, put our drinks down, and said, “Want to hear the specials?” Without waiting for a yes, please, she rattled off the specials anyway. “We’ve got Greek chicken and moussaka for entrées and soup of the day is vegetable, which personally it seems too hot for. But that’s up to you. Y’all ready to order?”

  “I’ll just have a big Greek salad, no anchovies, please,” I said.

  “Me too,” Cornelia said. After the waitress left, Cornelia continued, “So first she unfriended me, and then she called Harold and pitched a fit the size of Texas and then Harold called me a slut and then I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed my purse and got in my car. I almost came up to your office, but then I decided you might not even be there and you’ve had enough going on without another pile of crazy from me and Harold. And now I’m here and Harold’s home and pissed and we’re drinking Diet Cokes. Have a nice day, right? So how are you, by the way? You feeling okay?”

/>   Nice of her to take a moment out of her own soap opera to realize she wasn’t the only person in the world with issues, I thought.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Cornelia, I’m sorry, honey. You have to talk to Harold. It’s not like he didn’t sow his oats when he was young.”

  “Everyone does, don’t they?”

  “Well, some more than others, I’d have to say. But you know, they say time heals all wounds, doesn’t it?”

  “Look, I don’t know about that. Molly is off the wall. And even I’ll admit, it’s a bit awkward.”

  “Yeah, well, if Les was here, she’d say you have to forgive yourself and move on.”

  “Forgive myself for what? I didn’t do anything wrong! I wasn’t married to Harold yet and Molly wasn’t even dating Shawn yet! What did I do?”

  I came from a generation where women were busy trying to remain virgins until the altar. And if they weren’t, they lied about it. With this generation, virginity seemed irrelevant, that it was a given that they had a busy sex life unless something was wrong with them.

  “You’re right, of course. On the other hand, it is a bit of a sticky wicket.”

  “Whatever that is! According to Harold, Molly’s going to break her engagement and call off the wedding. And naturally, if she does, that will cause a huge war with Harold, who’ll say I broke his daughter’s heart and then he’ll definitely dump me.” She took a deep sip of her Coke. “Oh, Wes, it wasn’t enough that . . . you know, what I told you before about his . . . us in the bedroom? But now this? What should I do?”

  “Yeah, this is pretty rough all right. I think you have to let this play itself out because there’s nothing you can do. I mean, you might try talking to Molly? You know, say you’re sorry this very peculiar thing happened, which is not apologizing for it happening exactly. Then you can save face? Do you know what I mean?”

  I looked at Cornelia, who was staring off into space, and imagined her mind was wandering the universe, planning her next move. The waitress put our salads down and left.

  “Oh, Wes! I never even thought of the possibility of Shawn showing up in my life again.” She picked at her salad. “Especially not as my potential stepson-in-law! Jesus! In a city of four million people, what are the odds on that?”

  “I sure couldn’t have called it. As far as Shawn goes, I can have a little talk with him, if you’d like.” I took a huge bite of the lettuce and cucumbers and thought it was pretty good. After nonstop soup and Jell-O since my operation, I relished the crunch.

  “Oh, sure! Like that will do any good. What would you say?”

  “I’d tell him to have some respect, that’s what I’d say. Of course this is awkward, but it’s also 2012 and it’s time to get over this and put it in the past where it belongs if he’s going to be a part of the family.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good, but the reality is that I slept with him—a lot. Molly knows it, Harold knows it, and Shawn probably has a smirk on his face as wide as the Mississippi. He’s known I was Harold’s wife since New Year’s. Why did he wait until right before the wedding to tell her? In fact, why did he tell her at all? Idiot!”

  “That’s a good question. Maybe it was a last-minute confessional thing, you know, laying all the cards on the table before they tie the knot? Anyway, you’re not to blame if they’re fighting.” I said that, but inside I was thinking, Whoo boy! If she didn’t give our club enough to talk about before now, just wait until the wedding! She was pretty, but brother, was she trouble! And wait till Les heard about this.

  “Wes, look, if I’m around and so is Shawn? We all know that it’s always going to be awkward. One of us has to go. This should be a really happy time for the family, but Molly wants everyone to think the wedding’s ruined all because I’m in the picture.”

  “Her age is showing. And she’s just being, well, stubborn. She needs to understand . . .” Actually, Cornelia was right. It was one thing to have a trophy wife, but it could be very inconvenient in certain situations. Truth? They’d all be better off with Cornelia gone. “Oh, wait and see; she’ll come around.”

  “Never. She never will, and I’m not so sure I would if I was in her position. How do you like that?”

  “Women.”

  “It’s how we are. Look, I love Harold, but he’s so mad at me I don’t think he will ever forgive me for this even though I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Hey, I’m having an early supper with him at six. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Go ahead. But I think I should just pack up and go this time. Let them have the wedding and everything and call me horrible names for the rest of their lives.”

  “Do nothing of the sort. Let’s see what Harold has to say.”

  “Once again, here I am: no job, no money, no place to go . . .”

  “Look, as I told you before, Harold’s not the kind of guy who would hurt you. Let’s see what he says. And if it comes to that, I can probably find you a job with my firm. We have offices all over the world.”

  She only slightly paused before she blurted out, “Wow. I’ve kind of always wanted to see Hong Kong.”

  I wondered if Hong Kong would be far enough away.

  At six that evening, when I got to the grill room at the club, Harold was at a table, polishing off what I assumed was his first martini and reading the menu. If I had been in his shoes, I’d be on my third. I wondered how he was going to deal with the bomb about Cornelia, Molly, Shawn, and the wedding.

  “Hey, my man! Don’t get up!” I said and nodded to José the waiter. “The usual.”

  José nodded back. Relief was on the way.

  “What? Now I have to stand up for you like you’re a girl?”

  “Up yours,” I said, laughing, and took a chair. “What looks good?”

  “They got lobster tonight and monster rib eyes,” he said. “Want to get a two-pounder and split it?”

  “Sounds great. Want to split that cowboy rib eye too?”

  “Hell, yeah. So Paolo bailed on us.”

  “How come?”

  “He’s home getting whipped.”

  “He’s got nothing but grief with those two daughters of his. By the way, I had an accidental lunch with Cornelia today. You should praise God that you only have one daughter.”

  “So you know then?”

  “Yeah. She told me everything.”

  We were both quiet until José appeared with fortification.

  “So what do you think? Do I call my daughter’s bluff and tell her to call off her wedding?”

  “What are you crazy, man? She’s about to marry a doctor! She’ll be cash flow positive!”

  “Hmmm,” Harold said. “You’re right.”

  The waiter put a plate of crudités in front of me and a basket of bread in front of Harold.

  “Yeah, just think about it, never mind all the money you’ve probably already spent for this extravaganza. You’d lose all that too, you know. Nonrefundable deposits?”

  “Never mind Molly’s gown for ten thousand. Yeah, but then what? I gotta go through another divorce? Can I have a stick of celery?”

  “Help yourself.” I put the plate in front of him and took the bread, helping myself to a roll. “Look, Harold, I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon. The larger question is, Do you love Cornelia so much that you would jeopardize your relationship with your daughter for the rest of your life?”

  “Good question. Good question. I don’t know. I mean, but won’t it be very weird whenever Molly and Shawn get together with us? What about the holidays and all that stuff?”

  “Exactly! And when the babies start coming? Forget about it! Molly’s gonna be sitting there staring at Cornelia, sending her daggers while Shawn’s smirking his guts out. But I have to ask you, these are all sophisticated young people. Why can’t they just put this unfortunate coincidence in the past? I mean, I couldn’t do it, but young people today? Doesn’t everyone have friends with benefits or something like that?”

  “I don’t know ab
out friends and benefits. Anyway, it’s just too nasty for Molly to accept, and it’s very uncomfortable for Cornelia, and frankly, I don’t like it either.”

  “Well then, my friend, you have your answer.”

  “Cornelia’s got to go. Damn it. You want another martini?”

  “Definitely.” I looked around and made eye contact with José. We gave the nod and he understood. “Look, it’s probably best for everyone involved, Harold. Let’s be honest here; it’s cheaper to dump Cornelia than to support Molly for the rest of her life if she doesn’t marry the doctor!”

  I didn’t want to say I think Cornelia’s leaving anyway. I had just wanted to prepare Harold with a little exercise in logic.

  “You’re right about that. I gotta get this divorce done and fast.”

  “I think my firm’s got a suitable job for Cornelia in New York, if you’re interested. Maybe even Hong Kong.”

  “Wes? That would save me. Getting her out of town would be the best thing. You’re right. I can’t ask my child to sacrifice the only man she ever loved. It isn’t right. Besides, I’m an old man.”

  “You’re not an old man. Thanks, José.” I took a sip of my second silver bullet. “Yeah, Cornelia could be a brand ambassador. She’ll do all these public appearances—she’s perfect for the job and she’ll love it.”

  “You’re a great friend, Wes.”

  “Hey, this is what friends are supposed to do for each other. Anyway, Harold, you and I both know, you can love more than one woman in this world.”

  “Yep. I’m living proof of that. And thank the good Lord for the generous supply. Still . . . it’s not going to be pleasant to tell Cornelia.”

  We ordered dinner.

  “Just let her down easy, my friend. Let her down easy. Say you’re the shit. Tell her you take full responsibility.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got the perfect excuse.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My willie died again. And now it’s really dead.”

  “Aw, Jesus, man! What are you telling me?”

  “I’m not kidding. Ever since I heard this about Cornelia and Shawn? It’s as dead as a doornail.”