“No. Alex has. He went on a safari with a bunch of friends a few years back, and I wanted to go with him. But none of the other wives went. I took a trip to Bermuda with the girls instead.”
“That's a little more civilized,” Brad smiled. “What time will you be celebrating Thanksgiving?” he asked, yawning. She wasn't boring him, he was just blind tired after the trial. The letdown was always enormous. All he wanted to do was go home, take a shower, and crawl into bed. But he had wanted to call her first, and celebrate the victory with her. Oddly enough, these days he found himself worried about her, if they didn't talk or e-mail every couple of days.
“We usually have dinner in the middle of the afternoon, around three o'clock. It's kind of a weird hour, but the girls like it. And at five or six o'clock, we can go to a movie, or they can go out with their friends. What about you?”
“Dinner is at seven. We'll eat around eight. I'll call you before I leave the office. You'll probably be through by then, before I go home, rev up the engines, and meet Pam's friends.” He made it sound like he was a stranger in his own house, and these days, sometimes he was. “How's school going, by the way?” She had e-mailed him about it several times and it sounded as though she was being challenged and having a good time.
“Great. But scary as hell. I haven't concentrated this hard in years.” And whenever Alex wasn't around, she was studying at home.
“I'm proud of you, Fred,” he repeated as he often did, and he was.
They hung up a few minutes later. Faith tidied up the girls' rooms that night, and put vases of fresh flowers in them. She wanted everything perfect for their homecoming, and she felt happy and relaxed when she went back to her own room. She started to say something to Alex, and then realized he'd fallen asleep with a book in his hands. She laid it gently on the night table next to the bed, turned off his light. He looked peaceful and handsome as he lay there, and she couldn't help wondering why he was so rigid sometimes, and so hard on her and the girls. And then suddenly she thought of Charles Armstrong. In some ways, Alex's views weren't so different from his. He had enormous expectations of his children, he wanted them to work hard, get good grades, and be successful. It was what Charles had demanded of Jack when he was young, although he expected far less of her, because she was “only” a girl. Alex had the same old-fashioned ideas, although he had modified them somewhat because he had daughters instead of sons, and he expected as much of them as he would have of sons. But he treated Faith in very much the same way that Charles had treated her mother, as though she didn't exist some of the time, and wouldn't understand what he did with his days, as though she were somehow less competent than he was. It was a subtle form of devaluation that irked her when she was a child. It had bothered her that her mother had let Charles treat her that way. And now Faith realized that she had done the same thing. She let Alex put her down, and criticize her, belittle her, and ignore her. Letting him forbid her to go to law school was something her mother would have done. And as she got into bed next to him, as he snored softly, she vowed not to let him do the same thing to her. The tides had slowly started to turn.
She couldn't help wondering if she had married Alex because he was like Charles. His silence and distance were familiar to her, although they hadn't been as noticeable in the beginning. But something about him must have struck a chord with her. What frightened her now was that she had become her mother, which was precisely who she didn't want to be. The main difference was that her mother had whined and complained and grown bitter, and eventually long-suffering. It was the last thing Faith wanted to happen to her. Her mother had seemed helpless in the face of Charles's domineering ways, which was an example Faith didn't want to set for her daughters. She wanted to model dignity and integrity and strength for them. But it had been a battle for her. One that Alex didn't want her to win. It had been a silent war between them for many years. The Iceman, as Zoe called him. The sad thing was that he wasn't entirely, there was a warm core in there somewhere, that Faith had known and loved in the beginning of their marriage. But the warm core had gotten covered with layers of ice over the years. It was hard to get to it anymore, and she only caught a glimpse of it occasionally.
As she drifted off to sleep that night, she hoped it would be a nice Thanksgiving. There was no reason for it not to be, especially with the girls there. She felt useful suddenly, being with them again. They needed her, or at least they used to, and they would now, if only for a few days. Just knowing they would be home made her feel happy, safe, and loved. It saddened her to realize that Alex no longer made her feel that way. The only joy she had left was her girls.
5
IT STARTLED FAITH TO SEE THAT BOTH ELOISE AND ZOE had grown into independent young women in the brief months since they had been away. Eloise had left for London in September, and Zoe for Brown in August, and both had changed dramatically in a remarkably brief time. Eloise suddenly looked stylish and sophisticated. She'd lost some weight and bought a new wardrobe in little shops in London, and she was crazy about her job. She had met lots of new people, and had a new boyfriend, a young Englishman who also worked at Christie's. And although she was happy to see how she was thriving, Faith felt a pang as she realized how empty her nest really was. And that it was going to stay that way. Eloise was talking about staying in London for two or three years, if not longer, and maybe taking a job in Paris or Florence after that. She loved what she was learning and the people she worked with. All was well in her world.
And Zoe absolutely loved Brown. It was everything she had hoped it would be. She had designed a curriculum for herself in fine arts, with a minor in economics. She wanted to run an art gallery eventually, or start a service to buy art for important collectors. She already had her goals in her sights, even at eighteen.
Faith was reveling in the excitement of having them both home. The house seemed full of noise and laughter again, doors were banging, the girls were running up and down the stairs, and she heard them in the kitchen late that night. Alex was already asleep by then. He and Eloise had had a long quiet talk in his den, while Faith and Zoe had chatted in her room. Faith tiptoed quietly down the stairs to join the girls.
“Hi, Mom.” Zoe looked up at her with a grin. She was sitting on the counter eating ice cream out of the container with a spoon, while Eloise was sprawled in a chair, sipping a cup of tea.
“It sure is good to see you guys here,” Faith smiled at them. “This house is like a tomb without you.” Zoe offered her a spoonful of ice cream, and she took it and then kissed Zoe's long blond hair, which hung to her waist. Eloise had just cut hers short, and it looked well on her.
“What are you both doing this weekend?” she asked as she sat at the table with Eloise, and smiled at her. She was a beautiful girl, taller than her younger sister, though not by much. They both had Alex's height and his long, lanky looks, their mother's perfect figure, and faces like cameos. They had both been asked to model at various times, but neither had ever been interested in it, much to Faith's relief. She thought that a frightening world, full of people who would have exploited them, and dangers in the form of men and drugs. She was well aware that she had been lucky with both girls.
“I'm seeing all my friends,” Zoe said delightedly, “everyone's home from school.”
“Me too,” her older sister said. “There's a bunch of people I want to see.” Although some of her friends had taken jobs in other cities, or had gone to graduate school, many of them were still in New York. She had worked for Christie's for two years in New York before they'd transferred her. It seemed the perfect job for her.