“Do you remember your work friends you went to Vegas with? Well, it’s unfortunate, but they’ve been terminated.”
“What?”
“But don’t fret. If you meet with me, I can promise to turn things around. So are you willing to meet me?”
“I—sure. I can be ready in—let’s see, I look like shit, so give me twenty minutes.”
“Fine. I’ll be in my car downstairs.”
“I’ll be down there.”
“You just need a mimosa or two, and your defenses will be back in place. Don’t worry, child. I’ve been there myself a time or two. It’s rotten being married a man you love so much, who loves his company so much more.”
“You said a mouthful there,” Marj mused ruefully.
She hung up and then scrubbed her face. She used depuffing serum and a citrus toner. Then she slathered on tinted moisturizer and tried to line her swollen eyes in such a way that all the crying wouldn’t be horribly obvious. She used about half the contents of her Yves St. Laurent flash pen to create some highlights where there were only blotches and shadows. She mustered a high ponytail, reminiscent of Britt’s perennial style only without the optimistic open-heartedness that kept the ponytail from veering into irony. She dressed to kill in one of her sleekest sheaths, her highest heels.
She put on the diamond pendant she’d discarded the night before. When she slid into the chauffeured Town Car beside the impeccable Lena, Marj felt conspicuous and blowsy. Lena may not have been to the manner born—a former intern or employee of the senior Cates—but she had spent decades honing a flawless style. She reposed against leather seats in a cream colored cashmere shell, a pencil skirt just a shade darker caramel and a designer leather moto jacket that was yet a shade darker than the skirt. It was chic and stylish and a bit edgy, not at all matronly yet totally respectable. Marj wanted to bow down but her skintight cherry red dress wouldn’t allow much in the way of bowing.
“Good morning,” Lena said, “awake all night?”
“Most of it.”
“You look well despite that.”
“Sephora has an absolute goldmine,” Marj mused.
“Truly they do. I prefer La Prairie myself. The spa as well as the skin care regime.”
“I’ve never tried it.”
“I’ll send you some round later. Their skin caviar is divine.”
“I hope caviar is just a name. I don’t like the idea of rubbing fish eggs on my face.”
“They’re not eggs as such. Roe.”
“Is it real caviar? Or just shaped like it?”
“Proteins…ah, I’m not sure if it’s derived from the sturgeon or not. You’ll have to read the label, I suppose, if you’re that concerned. It firms the skin tone.”
“I could use that. My jaw looks a little saggy.”
“Only wait until you’re my age,” Lena said with a sniff.
“Where shall we eat? Is any place even open?”
“For us? Of course there are places open.”
“The Cates insomniacs?” Marj tried a joke.
“The corporate widows.
“But my husband is not dead.”
“But it’s like he is. He’s not around much.”
Marj sighed.
The car stopped before a luxury hotel restaurant, and the doors swung open to receive them into the empty and silent dining room. Menus were brought, bound in leather and the byword in understated elegance…not a single price was listed. Marj felt her mouth water as she read the descriptions of breakfast delicacies. Remembering her waistline with regret, she ordered an egg-white omelet with shallots, tomato, and mushrooms to accompany her Bellini. She wanted the sweetness of peach with her champagne, to counter the bitterness that was welling in her.
“Has he cheated on you?” Lena asked frankly, as soon as she had ordered her breakfast. Marj had felt a pang of envy at the other woman’s order—omelet with Gruyere cheese and onion, yogurt with honey and granola, turkey bacon. A seeming abundance compared to what she allowed herself—cheese, sugar, sodium….visions of it danced in her mind.
“No. And that’s hardly your concern.”
“Is that a ‘not yet’?”
“He hasn’t cheated on me, nor have I cheated on him. I love him.”
“That much is plain, but it’s not much to the purpose, now is it? It never mattered to his father and the apple doesn’t fall far in this case.”
“I thought he stopped that after he married you.”
“Well, that’s what he told everyone, including golden boy, Brandon.”
“I’m sorry.”