Not all the clients were unpleasant. Many of them were delightful and fascinating, and Darcy knew it was an honor to dine with the man who’d won the Nobel Prize or the woman who’d won a Pulitzer. When they spent a summer month on Lake George, she realized she was fortunate to reside in a handsome mansion, swimming, sailing, playing tennis…and often, because she faked difficult “female problems,” remaining in her room, reading. She felt guilty because the cook had to bring her a tray—the family didn’t want to see Darcy when she wasn’t “up to it.” But for her, a life without reading was flat and meaningless, no matter how fabulous the environment around her.
As the days passed, Darcy decided she had never before known such an active family. When they went to Lake George for a vacation, they didn’t lie in a hammock in the shade. They went sailing or Jet Skiing or hiking or at the least swimming. If it rained, they didn’t curl up with a good book. They played tennis on their Wii. They had friends over for drinks or dinner—the family called it “networking.”
Darcy tried to connect with her husband’s family. She tried to admire them and please them. To be like them. She did grow fond of Lena, the youngest of the family, and the most cowed by her outspoken father. Often, she thought she was closer to Lena than to Boyz.
The turning point came the day Lena graduated from college. After the ceremony, Makary Szweda hosted a champagne celebration and dinner for Lena and her classmates in a private room at the posh restaurant Blue Ginger. Darcy had learned that her in-laws liked her to schmooze and cultivate prospective clients, so she behaved with as much charm as possible, and was rewarded by a guarded smile from Boyz’s father.
And then Lena clinked her spoon against her champagne flute. In her pale yellow party dress, she was radiant with happiness.
“Thank you all for coming!” she cried, opening her arms as if to gather them all against her. “And thank you, Father, for providing this celebration!” She paused, so everyone could clap for Mr. Szweda. Then she dropped the bomb. “And now I’m going to share some fabulous news—I’ve been admitted to the University of Chicago Medical School! I’m going to be a doctor!”
Everyone cheered and applauded…almost everyone.
Darcy took her husband’s hand. “Boyz, isn’t this wonderful? I had no idea Lena was”—she almost said so smart, but caught herself in time—“interested in med school.”
Boyz shook off her hand. Smiling through his teeth, he hissed, “Foolish girl. She knows that’s not the plan.”
“What do you mean, ‘the plan’?”
“You know very well what I mean by the plan. My father is building a dynasty. His children will inherit the business, and we will pass it on to our children.”
Darcy froze. She continued to smile, but behind her smile, her thoughts were racing. No, not racing. Screaming.
Dismal and embarrassed, she finally got it, why Boyz had chosen her—because she was pretty, yes, but mostly, because she was eager to please. She had no family bonds to compete with his. No need to divide or combine holidays, rules, obligations. Indeed, she’d been thrilled to become part of his family, a real true close-knit family who celebrated holidays together and vacationed together and were bound by a common desire: to be the best. At first, Darcy considered this kind of romantic, like a pioneer family harvesting potatoes and putting up jam to keep them all alive during the winter.
It was no longer a romantic dream, and Darcy knew that somehow she’d allowed herself to be drawn away from her first love—her first passion—books, reading, libraries. She vowed to herself that she would return to her first, real passion again. She was trying to be who she wasn’t, some glitter bug who would impress the Szwedas. She wanted to return to her true self.
Boyz was eager for a child—a son—the next generation in the dynasty. When they were first married, Darcy continued taking birth control pills because she intended to attend Simmons in the fall and finish her master’s degree. That didn’t happen, but after a year, she still took the pill, although she didn’t tell Boyz. She hardly admitted this to herself, she just popped a pill in her mouth after brushing her teeth and put the foil packet back in her Chanel makeup bag.
By their first anniversary, Irena was engaged to the least famous nephew of a very famous New England political family. The organization of the wedding—for this would be a grand society affair—was splashed all over the newspapers and even made Town and Country. It took up almost a year of the Szwedas’ lives. Boyz, spurred on to greater achievements in sales, spent more time working and less time in bed with Darcy, and for months at a time forgot he needed Darcy to get pregnant.