Ghosts of Manhattan: A Novel(61)

“Nicholas, I beg your pardon.” Sue’s friends take an exit.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He had some work to finish. He’ll be along in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” I turn and walk away. I don’t want to spend more time with her. That was plenty. I’m reminded of how oddly adolescent my relationship with her remains, which makes me dislike her even more. Ironically, she seems to like me more now than when I was a child, probably because I’m not so inconvenient anymore. I’m an adult with my own life, so now she needs to engage me only as much as she would a friend from a book club.

Susan uses the commotion to break with the other parents and come over to me. “Hey, big brother.”

“Sometimes I still can’t believe my little sister’s a mom at all.”

“I used to have those moments. The kids pounded them out of me very quickly. Where’s Julia?”

“She’s not coming.” There is no excuse like a sprained ankle or car trouble that I can deliver in an easy manner. It’s just a brief statement of fact that lands with a thud.

“Let’s go talk upstairs. The first floor’s overrun.”

“Okay.” I smile my appreciation and am surprised to find how much I’m looking forward to talking with her. “I’m going to stop by the bar on the way. Can I get you something?”

“Gin and tonic. I’ll escape now. See you in the den upstairs.”

I walk back through the foyer into the dining room, where the bar is set up on one end of the table. I move workmanlike with a lowered gaze to avoid making any accidental invitation to conversation. In a moment I have two glasses loaded to the rim with gin and tonic and I’m back to the foyer and up the stairs without having uttered even a grunt to anyone.

They’ve styled their den in a classic way with wood paneling on the walls, a dark walnut desk, and built-in bookshelves full of old books that give the room the smell of a library’s old book room. Susan’s sitting on a two-seat leather sofa against the wall, and I hand her a drink and lean against the desk in a sideways sit.

“Mom’s her usual charming self. How’s Caroline?”

“She’s good. She was cute this morning with Andy for his birthday. It’s funny having two. One day they’re best friends and loving and supportive. The next day the opposite. But either way, they know each other better than anyone else.”

“Like you and me.”

“Yup. How are you, Nick? Any special reason why Julia isn’t with you?”

“Hm. Special reason. Probably. I can start with the most recent reason, which is that last night at a casual dinner for four with her parents, I managed to punctuate the end of dinner by calling her dad a pompous clown and piece of crap.”

Some people reflexively say “You’re kidding” or “Seriously?” when hearing a story like that. Susan never does that, which I appreciate. “I would love to have seen Alistair’s face.” She smiles and takes a sip of her drink. “Jesus, Nick, are we out of tonic?”

“I only barely saw his face myself. A little red, a little contorted, then turned to the door. There wasn’t a discussion.”

“He is a pompous ass. Once he calms down, he ought to realize you did him a favor.”

“Not likely.”

“How did Julia react?”

“About like you. Except our problems run pretty deep. I’ve always kept things in check with Alistair, just going along to get along with him because it’s better for us, but now I feel like I’m losing my grip. I wasn’t mad at Alistair. I don’t care enough about him to get mad at him, but I carried some old wounds into dinner and he hit a nerve.”

“And you went after him.”

“Whatever I used to value enough to keep the peace with him wasn’t there. It wasn’t that I was thumbing my nose at Julia. I didn’t want to hurt her or make things hard for her. It was just a reshuffling of priorities so that I did something more for myself without worrying about consequences.”

“What nerve of yours did he hit?”

“The usual raw and exposed nerve. That my career is meaningless and juvenile. Which is also part of the problem with Julia. Some form of what he said, she thinks.”

“You’re not your career, Nick. She may not love what you do, but she loves you. She respects you and your character. She and I have had enough conversations into the early morning hours that I know this.”

“Well, my career is still in the picture. Distinguishing it in the way you do may not be enough. She would prefer to exorcise it and kill it.”

“You already know how I feel about that. I agree.”

I do know and I don’t want to retread this ground. It also isn’t what has all my senses in a panic. “It’s possible Julia may be having an affair.”

Susan’s expression doesn’t change but she leans back into the sofa, staring at me. I notice how long it’s been since she last blinked, and I find myself counting the seconds and the number of times I blink before she next does. “You buried the lead. What makes you suspect her?”

I don’t want to describe how I read through Julia’s diary, that it was just lying out and I happened to see it and read a few pages. “We’ve spent some time with another couple. Julia’s behavior’s been a little weird, his has been weirder. And there’ve been some clues around the apartment.”