Ghosts of Manhattan: A Novel(58)

“Just take the high road.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” I flip the door handle and get out.

Alistair Pembroke, the great retired attorney and royal pain in my ass, is already there seated on a wooden bench along the wall in the waiting area. His legs are crossed knee over knee with his hands resting uncertainly on top as though the legs are something extra, a piece of luggage next to him on the bench and not connected to the rest of his body. He’s tall and tan, with thinning black hair combed straight back and small amounts of gray at the temples left skillfully undyed. He has a long, thin nose that isn’t so bad on a man and fortunately didn’t get passed down to Julia. He’s wearing a blazer with a black turtleneck shirt underneath. The outfit looks ridiculous on a man nearly seventy. It belongs in Miami Beach on a man half his age running a nightclub.

While he sits, Patricia Pembroke is up across the room like his receptionist checking on the table with the host. She’s at least dressed sensibly in the sort of pants and blouse you’d expect from a woman her age. Julia gets her looks mainly from Patricia. Tall, thin, athletic, pretty eyes, pretty lips. She looks much like Julia might in thirty years. She has a nice way about her too, but I can’t forgive her the sin of what she chose for a husband. Show me who you love and I’ll show you who you are.

The one positive thing I can say for Alistair is he didn’t drop Patricia for the fresh-faced secretary. Knowing him, he probably had affairs, he just never had the guts to be honest with everyone, especially himself, to go the whole distance and set everyone free. But Patricia sticks around for it. They don’t seem very loving, more as though they have a good professional relationship but one that obviously fills needs, because they’re both here.

Alistair uncrosses his legs and stands. All his movements seem to happen sequentially like a kid moving the parts of a toy robot. I go to shake his hand and muscle up a smile. I can’t stand the way he talks, always in run-on monotone sentences that force the listener to do the punctuation for himself. It has a schizophrenic quality and is probably why he couldn’t be a litigator and why he worked in corporate law.

“Good to see you Nick glad you both could make it out this way and I suppose traffic wasn’t too bad and you were able to keep my daughter safe must be nice to have a little break from that city if only for a night, eh?”

“Good to see you, Alistair. Patricia, you look nice.” She had appeared at our sides for the handshake like the dutiful aide. I give her a kiss on the cheek.

“How are you, Nick?” Patricia always seemed to like me. She seems to get along with all men, especially those she thinks are handsome. But she’s also cautious of the tension between me and Alistair.

“I’m getting by.”

Julia hugs each of her parents and we start for the table, a round one in the middle of the room. Fortunately Alistair is quick to order a drink and I get bourbon on ice. Neither of us wants to be here, but it’s the only way he can see his daughter. I have no reason for being here.

“So Nick how are things on Wall Street seems like a good year never does seem to matter though you traders can move it around whether it’s going up or down.”

“Should be an okay year. I’ll fax over my W2 if you’re interested.” He irritates me. I can’t help it.

“Ha nothing like that very funny though it seems like only you and the baseball players get paid no matter what got a guy getting ten million and bats two hundred ought to give it all back for turning in a rotten season like that what a joke, eh?”

“Well, I couldn’t get into law school.”

“I say I was there in the heyday of it all billion-dollar oil and gas mergers and saving thousands of jobs at airlines through structured bankruptcy and fighting Carl Icahn in a proxy war to take him for a billion it was fun and one hell of a time we did things.”

Alistair’s stories seem to grow by twenty percent each time I hear them. With compound growth, a person needs to know him only a few years before they’ve doubled and tripled in grandeur. I can hardly tolerate his indulgences to preserve some legacy for himself. Corporate lawyers really have a chip on their shoulders about having done anything exciting. I look at Julia and widen my eyes, which I hope communicates to her that I’m nearing a breaking point already and she better jump in and shut him up.

“Mom, you look great. Where’d you get those earrings?”

The drinks arrive and I order another one before taking the first sip. Patricia glances at me but I’ve already decided that if I’m going to make it through dinner, I need to focus on me and my survival and there might be collateral damage in doing so.

“Honey, I’ve had these earrings for years. Your father gave them to me on our tenth anniversary.”

Alistair reaches over in a fumbling way to touch one earring, and I half expect him to yank Patricia out of her chair the way one of the Three Stooges might pull another by gripping a nose or an earlobe.

“Yes yes beautiful they are the way a man needs to be for a woman there’s a sparkle and I remember the jeweler was a good man and he and I designed a few pieces together you remember dear.” Of course any comment at the table he needs to relate back to himself. I think the only way to contain him is not to make any comments at all.

The waiter arrives, so I barge in to announce that I won’t have a salad or appetizer and I order my entrée. This seems like a good way to shorten dinner by thirty minutes. Alistair is put off by my behavior, but the girls go next and go along with just an entrée and so does he. It feels like a small win.