“But what do you think?” she wanted to know.

“What do I think?” he said, trying to stay calm. “I think he's a complete son of a bitch, and a pathetic little prick, but not just because of this. He drags you around by the hair constantly, in one way or another, he freezes you out, you're lonely all the time, and now he does a dumb thing like this. Personally, I think he should be shot. But if you want to stay married to him, I support you a hundred percent. Because I don't love him, you do, and I'm not married to him.” He respected her marriage, and her desire to stay in it, as much as his own. Although he wished she had left Alex years before, for her sake.

“I'm not sure what I feel for him anymore. Right now, I hate him, and I feel humiliated and stupid and unloved. I don't know if I love him or not. I just thought I'd always be married to him, now I'm not so sure.” A door was opening that seriously frightened her, and she felt desperately insecure.

“Well, don't make any rash decisions until you figure that out. I'll call you back in half an hour.” He had eleven urgent phone messages waiting for him by then. He answered seven of them, asked his secretary to take care of the others. It was six o'clock for him by then, and fortunately he knew Pam was going out with friends.

Faith had ordered a pot of tea, and had splashed cold water on her face by the time he called her back half an hour later. But she had no idea what she was going to do about Alex, and just thinking about him in their house that night with the woman in the thong made her feel sick.

“How are you doing?” he asked sympathetically.

“I don't know. I feel weird.” And she sounded it. Like she was disconnected, and tired.

“What kind of weird?” He was suddenly worried she might have taken some pills, or done something else to herself. But she was more sensible than that.

“Just weird. Disillusioned, betrayed, screwed over. Numb. Sad.” She couldn't think of any other adjectives, but he was relieved.

“Oh, that kind of weird, that's fine. You should. I've been thinking about this, Fred. I think you should probably tell him what you know. If you don't, it'll just poison you. Let him figure out how to clean this up. But don't do anything you don't want to do. I'm just telling you what I think.”

“I think you may be right. I don't even know how to tell him what I saw.”

“That's the easy part. He knows. This isn't news to him, just to you.”

“I guess that's true.”

“The news flash here is that you know. Of course you can call him tonight, and give him a heart attack, and tell him you're watching the house. That ought to give him a little jolt,” he said evilly.

“He's not answering the phone.” She had tried all week.

“Well, that's smart at least. He'll probably be pretty hostile when you tell him you know, whenever you do. Guys don't like to get caught flat out, and one way or another, he'll try to make it your fault.”

“How?”

“You've been neglecting him, you don't love him anymore. He thought you were having an affair, although it's not likely he'll accuse you of that.” She was squeaky clean, and he figured Alex knew it too. “Maybe he'll say it's because you went back to school. Whatever it is, he'll try to lay it on you to absolve himself.”

“Do you suppose he's serious about this girl?” Faith sounded panicked at the thought, as though she was afraid he would throw her out of their house. She couldn't even imagine what she'd do. But Brad knew that couldn't happen to her. If anyone had to leave the house, it would be him.

“That's hard to say. Probably not. My guess is she's just a piece of ass. Sorry to be so blunt. She could even be a hooker.”

“I can't imagine him doing that, Brad.” But the underwear certainly looked like it, although lots of people wore underwear like that these days. Even Faith's kids. “I don't think that's his style, a hooker, I mean.”

“You never know. I hate to think of you sitting in that room, worrying about it all night. I don't suppose you'll get much sleep.”

“Maybe I'll get up in the morning and go to church. I have your rosary beads with me.” She was going to need more than rosary beads now. She was going to need a cool head, and maybe a good lawyer. Brad just wished he were there.

“You need to think this out quietly, Fred. Just figure out what you want before you make any moves.”

“I think I want to know what's going on, who she is, what she means to him. I want to know the truth.”

“If he'll give it to you. He doesn't strike me as the type. I think he'll do everything he can to accuse you, and then shut you out to protect himself.” Brad knew the species well. He had seen a lot in his years, among clients and friends and associates, and he had made some mistakes himself, though none as foolish as this.

“I think you're right,” Faith agreed. “Thank you for listening to me. I'm sorry I'm such a mess.” But she sounded a lot better than she had when she first called. He thought someone had died.

“You scared me to death. I thought something had happened to you, or one of the girls. This is pretty lousy stuff, but at least everyone's alive.”

“I'm not sure I am,” she said, sounding depressed.

“You will be once you sort this out.” It was after seven o'clock in San Francisco, and after ten in New York by then. “I think you should take a bath and go to bed. I'm going to go right home. If you need me, call. You can call at any hour. I'm here for you, Fred. I just wish there were more I could do.”

“You did everything you could. You did what Jack would have done. All you can do is talk to me, and you did. I have to figure this out for myself,” she said, sounding terminally sad.

“You will, Fred. I know you'll do the right thing.”

“What am I going to tell the girls if we break up over this? I don't think they should ever know.”

“Why not? You didn't do it. He did. He has to face the consequences of a very stupid move. It's not your job to keep it a secret for him. You don't owe him that, Fred.”

“Zoe will hate him for this.” And Ellie would find some excuse.

“She hates him anyway,” Brad said practically, “and I'm not so sure she's wrong. He hasn't been much of a father to her, nor much of a husband to you, from what I can see.”

“It hasn't been great,” Faith admitted, “but it's just the way it is.” It brought his mind back to the conversation they'd had the night they had dinner, about the compromises one made to stay married, when things didn't turn out the way you'd hoped. He wondered if it was going to be worth it to her to stay married to Alex in the end. At any price, to keep the peace. He hoped not, but he didn't want to influence her. He had no right, since he had done pretty much the same thing. He'd been turning a blind eye to Pam's affairs for years. It was easier that way, for him at least. But he thought Faith deserved a better break. And he probably did too, but he preferred not to rock the boat, and maintain the status quo.

“You sound beat. Try to get some sleep.” He was sure she wouldn't close her eyes all night, and so was she. But he thought she should try. “Why don't you call down for a massage? They probably have somebody who could come up even at this hour.”

“I'll just take a bath.” She wasn't used to pampering herself. Only everyone else. It had been that way for years.

“Call me at home, if you want. I'll be home in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Brad … I love you, big brother….” She really did.

“I love you too, kiddo. We'll get you out of this mess … one way or another. It'll sort itself out. You'll see.”

“Yeah. Maybe so,” she said, sounding wiped out. But she didn't sound convinced, and neither was he. Alex was the unpredictable element in the piece. It was hard to know how he was going to react if Faith confronted him. Badly, Brad suspected as he drove home. He would have liked to give him a swift kick in the ass for what he had just done to Faith. It would have been one for the home team.





15


FAITH TOSSED AND TURNED ALL NIGHT, SHE FINALLY dozed off around four o'clock, and woke again at six. She got up, and watched the sun come up. It was a beautiful sunny day, and she had never felt worse. All she could think of was Alex and the woman with the long black hair sound asleep in their bed. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to sleep in it again.

She ordered a pot of black coffee at seven o'clock and put on a sweater and a pair of jeans. She went to the seven-thirty mass at St. Jean Baptiste on Lexington Avenue, and she held Brad's rosary beads in her hands, but she couldn't concentrate enough to say the prayers. She just knelt and stared into space. And when the mass ended, she walked back to the hotel. She didn't know what to do with herself all day. She wasn't due home till four or five, and she was afraid to go for a walk or leave the hotel, because she might run into them.

Brad called her when he got up. It was eleven o'clock for Faith, and he was worried about her, but she sounded all right. She said she was going to play it by ear when she got home. She just had to see how she felt, which Brad thought was reasonable.

“Just don't take any shit from him,” he reminded her, and for the first time since the day before, she smiled.

“I won't. I promise.”

“Call me when you can.” He was going out to play tennis with a friend, and he had promised to do an errand with Pam. She wanted a new stereo system for the living room, and he had said he would look at some with her. But he was carrying his cell phone, and told Faith to use it if she called the house and he was out. He was entirely available to her, and he didn't give a damn what comments Pam made. It was easy enough to explain to her, although he didn't think he would. He had nothing to feel guilty about, and neither did Faith. Their friendship was entirely clean, and completely pure. Unlike some of Pam's. He thought Pam might even feel sorry for Faith if she knew. She hated it when women were taken advantage of, or abused, and she would have told her just how to let Alex have it right between the eyes, better even than Brad could. But he was doing his best on her behalf.

Faith languished in her room all day, and at five o'clock, she called the bellman to carry her bags, and had the doorman call her a cab. She had too much stuff with her to walk the two blocks to the house. She let herself in with a shaking hand as she turned the key. The lights were on in the hall, and there was no sign of Alex. She assumed he was upstairs. She put her bags down in the hall, and walked slowly up to their room. The bed was made, and everything looked impeccable. She figured he must have made the bed himself. She wondered if he had had the decency to change the sheets, but she didn't look. He was sitting in his favorite chair by their bedroom fireplace, reading a book. He was the portrait of innocence itself. And he didn't even have the grace to look up at her, as she stood watching him. And for an instant, she felt a wave of disgust and hatred and hurt wash over her. She had to fight back tears.

“You're late,” he said, without looking up, and she couldn't believe his nerve. She didn't answer him, and he finally glanced up at her. She hadn't moved since she walked in. “How was the trip?”

She didn't answer his question, but proffered one of her own. “How was your week?” He could read nothing on her face, nor she on his.

“Long. Difficult. We had a lot of work.”

“That's nice,” she said, and sat down across from him. And as she did, she knew that she couldn't go on with the charade. She had to tell him the truth, as she knew it, whether or not he did.

“What did you do in Washington?” He could see something in her eyes, but he didn't know what it was. He kept talking to her while he tried to figure it out.

“What did you do in New York?”

“I told you,” he said, sounding irritated, “I worked. What do you think I did?” He was about to go back to his book, but stopped short at what she said.

“I'm not sure. I came home yesterday, Alex. We finished earlier than planned.”

“What do you mean you came home yesterday?” He looked stunned. But he made no admission of guilt.

“The professor's mother got sick and she had to leave, so some of us came home. I got in at two o'clock. I stopped to buy groceries, I thought I'd make something you really liked, and I came home. You know, kind of like Goldilocks … who's been sleeping in my bed? Whoever she is, she has fairly big feet, long black hair, and wears a thong.” His face went pale, but he said not a word for a long beat.