Summer Sisters (28 page)

What was she talking about?

“Vix …”

“Wait a minute. I’m losing you.” She walked with the phone back to the kitchen. “I never said I was moving to Seattle … did I?”

“No …” she began. “But you’d mentioned you were disappointed with your job, so I assumed …” She paused. “I must have misunderstood.”

“Besides,” Vix said, “you never stay in one place long enough …” Why was she making excuses?

“It will be a year in November.”

“Well, I’d love to come for a visit.”

“Great. How about next week?”

Vix laughed. “I can’t take off whenever I want. Maybe next summer. If you’re still there. I need to save up some money first.”

“I’ll send you a ticket.”

“No … don’t.”

“Same old Vix.”

But she wasn’t the same old Vix. She wasn’t fourteen anymore, or even seventeen. She’d graduated from Harvard, survived a year in the city on her own, a year of working for Dinah Renko.

It was true she’d grown bored at Squire-Oates. Last week she’d tried speaking to Dinah about her job, but Dinah hadn’t been in a listening mood. “Your generation hasn’t learned to pay its dues, Victoria,” she’d said. “Just because you have a Harvard degree doesn’t mean you can run the company.”

“I don’t want to run the company. I just want to try something besides editing the Captains of Industry. It’s
been a year. You told me when I first interviewed there would be opportunities.”

Dinah had gained twenty pounds since they’d first met, but it showed only in her face and upper body. She’d taken to wearing short skirts with tunics and Vix wondered how she kept from toppling over in the three-inch red heels she favored to show off her legs, her best feature. She had two young children, both in private school, and a husband who’d lost his job in publishing and was now at home trying to write a novel. Once, when she’d brought the kids to work, she’d dumped them on Vix. “I’m sure you can find a way to amuse them,” she’d said. They’d wrecked the place in an hour.

“This job is an opportunity!” Dinah’s voice rose. “Working with
me
is an opportunity! But not if you’re without patience.”

She was not without patience but by now she knew Dinah was never going to set her free. And moving to Seattle wasn’t the answer.

The next morning on her way to work Vix stopped to listen to the Bag Lady on the corner of Fifty-sixth and Sixth as she sang her version of “Lullaby of Broadway,” substituting
Timbuktu
for
ballyhoo
. When Vix dropped a few coins into her cup, the Bag Lady looked directly at her and nodded. For the first time Vix saw the person inside the beggar. She worried that whatever had happened to this Bag Lady could happen to her.

She began to make discreet inquiries. Three weeks later she accepted an offer from Marstello, a boutique PR firm with an eclectic list of clients, and the next day when she passed the Bag Lady, she dropped a dollar bill
into her outstretched cup. The Bag Lady responded with “You’ve Got a Friend.”

Dinah was furious. “I discovered you. Why didn’t you come to me if you were unhappy?”

“I did come to you.”

“Really … when was that?”

“Not very long ago.”

“I don’t remember.”

Had she made so little impression?

“You owe me an explanation,” Dinah said, chewing on the ends of her hair.

Fine, Vix thought. Here’s your explanation. “This job isn’t taking me in the right direction. And I’ve been offered one where I’ll be working directly with clients.”

“You’re going to another PR firm?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

Vix paused. Should she tell Dinah?

“I’ll find out anyway,” Dinah said.

“Marstello.”

Dinah laughed. “Marstello! You’ll be lucky if your paycheck doesn’t bounce.”

“I’m sorry, Dinah. I’ve done my best here. My decision has nothing to do with you personally.”

Dinah shouted, “I want you out by five!”

“But what about …”

“By five, you ungrateful little bitch!” She picked up an Empire State paperweight and Vix ducked. This was the professional world?

“Vix … I have the most exciting news! Did I wake you? Sorry.”

It was after midnight on a rainy October night. Caitlin never could keep the time difference straight, no matter how many times she reminded her. And hanging up, just to teach her a lesson as Maia had suggested more than once, seemed harsh. Maia was now a law student at Columbia.
Do you know what happens to the sleep deprived?

“I’m going into business,” Caitlin said. “A restaurant. I feel I’ve finally found my calling. And my partners are fantastic. James and Donny? I think I’ve mentioned them to you. They’re a couple. Anyway, it’s going to be down by the water. Lots of glass, clean, spare. We’ve hired a fabulous architect. And we’re bringing in one of the finest chefs in the city. But here’s the best … we’re calling it
Eurotrash
. After me. Don’t you love it? We’re hoping to open in June. It sounds so far away, but really, it’s not. So start calling the airlines to get the best deal. I’m going to work the front. I’ll wear all black, only black, very chic … very elegant. Of course if you’d made the move
you’d
be doing our PR. But that’s beside the point now. So what do you think?”

She sounded so happy and excited Vix had to wish her well. “And guess what else? I’ve sworn off sex. James and Donny are helping me. They make me happier than any straight man ever could. I was an addict, you know? Like some guy following his pointer through life. But now I’m free.”

Vix hadn’t exactly sworn off sex but it had been a long time since Bru. She dutifully went out on blind dates with sons of Abby’s friends, not that she could remember one from the other they were all so alike. And one night she’d gone to a downtown party with Jocelyn and had wound up in the bathroom with a scruffy, sexy filmmaker who’d kissed her breasts while she gave him a hand job. They hadn’t exchanged names or numbers and when she thought about it the next day she was glad. Too dangerous. A heartbreaker. Instead, she satisfied herself with fantasy lovers—sometimes reliving the moment in the truck with Bru and the peonies. And once, but only once, playing out the night of Caitlin’s flamenco dance and how it might have ended.

Paisley was conducting a flirtation with an older man at ABC and Maia … Maia worried every time she met a new guy about how it would end, how bad she’d feel when it did, how long it would take her to get over him, whether it was even worth the trouble in the first place. She had no time or energy for bad relationships. Celibacy was the key to making Law Review.

Paisley said, “What’s the point of thinking about how it’s going to end when it’s just beginning?”

“Ask Victoria,” Maia told her.

But Paisley didn’t ask. Instead she said, “Some people never get over their first loves. They spend their whole lives trying to recapture the thrill. Sometimes, after fifty years they get back together. They meet at some reunion or other and realize they were meant to be together.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Vix asked. “Or are you talking in the abstract?”

“Abstract,” Paisley said. “Strictly abstract. Though it’s not a bad concept for a show. I may just write a treatment and pitch it to my boss.”

As they were planning their holidays, wrapping Christmas gifts while Paisley’s holiday cookies baked in the oven, Vix heard a familiar voice on the tube and looked up to see one of the Captains of Industry, an international expert in the field of aviation, commenting on a disaster. She shushed the others and moved closer.
PanAm … Lockerbie, Scotland … carrying home Americans … many of them students …
Vix motioned for Paisley and Maia. Together they listened to the grim news, as the Captain of Industry spoke with representatives of the airline. He came across as sincere, honest, and caring. Vix remembered him. She remembered the ones who had the most trouble.

Ed

H
E’S WATCHING THE NEWS
when she calls. As soon as he hears her voice his stomach sours. She doesn’t call more than once a month and he’s expecting her to wait until Christmas. Does she have bad news? Does she know something about Lewis? He’s not sure where Lewis is. Germany, he thinks. But no reason to believe he’d be on Pan Am when he can fly military. And Tawny? Hell, she could be anywhere, anywhere the Countess is, but the Countess isn’t traveling anymore, is she? No. He doesn’t think so.

Vix reassures him.
Everything’s fine
, she says.
I was going to wait until Christmas but I thought I might have trouble getting through
. He knows she’s been watching the news. Same as him. He knows his girl. They don’t talk for long. He’s never been one for long conversations.
Everything’s about the same here
, he tells her.
No news is good news, as your mother used to say
. He doesn’t say he misses her. Doesn’t say he hopes she’ll come to visit soon.
How are things up your way?
he asks. She tells him her job is interesting.
Can’t ask for more than that
, he says,
can you?

When he hangs up, Frankie asks who was on the phone. He tells her it was Vix. She says, What does it take to get that girl to come for a visit?

38

A
BBY INTRODUCED
V
IX
to the School Volunteer Program the same way she introduced her to eligible young men. Vix signed up and every Wednesday night from six to eight she tutored a sixteen-year-old dropout, D’Nisha Cross, who was trying to get her GED.

“Cool name, huh?” D’Nisha said at their first meeting. “Sound like a movie star or a rapper, don’t it?”

“Very cool,” Vix agreed.

When D’Nisha came to Vix’s place she checked it out, circling around a couple of times. “You could blade in here,” she told Vix. For a minute Vix felt guilty to be sharing eight hundred square feet with two friends while D’Nisha lived in the projects with who knows how many relatives. She had to remind herself it was okay, unfair maybe, but okay.

“You read all these books?” D’Nisha asked, running her hand across a shelf of paperbacks.

“Not all, but a lot.”

“I like to read but not the stuff they gave us in school.”

“Starting tonight you can choose whatever you want.”

“Cool.” She browsed for a minute. “You married?”

“No.”

“Got a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“A computer?”

“At work.”

“I gotta learn computer. You learn computer you get a job.”

Vix made a note to pick up some computer intro books.

“You got luck?” D’Nisha asked.

Was this some code word? A new drug? “What do you mean by
luck?”
Vix said, cautiously.

“Shit …” D’Nisha looked at her as if she were hopeless, a person who just didn’t get it. “You know … good things happen when you got it? Nothin’ happens when you don’t.”

“Oh,
that
luck.”

“You know another kind?”

“Not really.”

“So?”

“Sometimes I have it,” Vix told her, “but not always. How about you?”

“Not yet. But I keep waitin’.”

Luck
. Luck had changed her life, hadn’t it? Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep she played the What If game. What if Caitlin hadn’t chosen her for her summer sister? What if Abby and Lamb hadn’t taken a personal interest? What if Nathan hadn’t died or she hadn’t gone
to Harvard or she’d married Bru? What would her life be like? Would she be happy, fulfilled?

She was a great believer in luck. Every week she bought a lottery ticket from the newsstand near her office because, as the guy in the commercial said,
Hey … you never know …
She even signed up for a junket to Atlantic City in early April just to see what all the hoopla was about. Gus had taught her to play poker the summer she was seventeen, the last summer they’d shared the house with the Chicago Boys. He’d been impressed with her stone-cold expression.
You don’t give away a thing, do you, Cough Drop?

Never
, she’d told him.