Chapter 5
Chapter Five
V alerie woke up with late-morning sunshine spilling across her still-made bed. Her black dress from last night’s gala was strung over her desk chair, there was a still-full glass of water on the bedside table, and she still had her makeup on, a no-go post-thirty and nothing she’d done to her skin in ages. It felt dry, crusty, and on the verge of forming a thousand wrinkles.
She hadn’t gotten drunk last night. Why did she feel so terrible? Why hadn’t she taken care of herself?
Valerie’s head thudded with a sudden memory of last night. She jolted upright, drank the entire glass of water, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Saul Isaacson’s face floated in her mind’s eye. Saul Isaacson’s twisted smile when he’d told her that Victor Sutton was writing a book about the Sutton family. Rage rippled across her chest. But why did I throw the Negroni at him? Why did I let it get to me?
Valerie’s cell phone was next to her pillow, but it was black and dead. She spent the next five minutes stumbling around her bedroom, looking for her charger. When she plugged it in, anxiety shot through her, and she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. But when she opened them, she saw the email from her boss, Audrey.
Valerie,
Please come into my office this afternoon. We need to talk.
Valerie screamed and slammed her fist against the mattress so hard that it shook beneath her. You don’t understand, she imagined telling Audrey. He insulted me. He insulted my family. He basically set me up to fail. But what could Audrey say except, You threw a Negroni on the client. And not just any client! Saul Isaacson!
The name rang a bell for Valerie. Valerie searched him online and found hundreds of photos of him in various expensive tuxedos, his arms slung across famous writers, screenwriters, directors, and actresses. His smile was sinfully handsome.
But this was a new low for Valerie. Valerie had let a man like that ruin her even without dating him! She’d let him ruin her in record time!
Valerie threw herself back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Outside, in the Mission District, she could hear vibrant conversations in Spanish, a language she could half speak after living out West for so long. She remembered what her mother Esme had said of the crowd during her brief stint out here after her husband died. “It’s so colorful! It’s so alive!”
And Valerie had said, “Why don’t you just stay out West with me? We can start over.”
Valerie had loved having Esme around. But Esme had wanted to go home to her Sutton Book Club. She’d wanted to make amends with Victor.
And all Victor had wanted was to gobble her up in pursuit of rejuvenating his ruined name.
Not so very long ago, an article was published “exposing” Victor Sutton for who he really was. For many years after he left Nantucket, Victor had been known as a top-notch family psychologist. He’d published bestselling books about how to build a more prosperous and loving family environment. He’d been featured on every talk show, from Oprah to Dr. Phil to Dr. Oz and probably every other fake doctor with veneers television had to offer. Valerie had watched with disgust and kept herself at a distance.
But Victor had known the tides were turning. That was why he’d reached out to Rebecca and demanded they go check on Esme. Victor’s second wife was leaving him. And Victor decided to go back to his original source of love—the family he’d abandoned.
It was bizarre that Valerie had been in Victor’s midst when the article came out a few months back. A part of her had championed the article. A part of her had thought finally, people will understand what a fraud he really is.
But Victor had tried to prove himself to the family. He’d tried to prove how sorry he was for abandoning them after Joel died. And according to Rebecca and Bethany, he succeeded in winning Esme back. He often spent the night in their family home. He often made Esme belly laugh over afternoon margaritas.
He’s putting it all in his book. He wants to advertise his return to Nantucket as proof of what a brilliant family psychologist he truly is. “How to Repair a Ruined Family.”
Valerie showered, scrubbing herself with rage, then got into her car and drove to the event planning company where she’d worked since her early thirties. She checked her reflection a final time in the mirror. Her cat eyeliner was sleek and perfect. Her eyebrows were thick but gelled. And her long brunette hair was lush and curly down her shoulders. If she was going to get fired, she wanted to do it looking the best she could. She didn’t want anyone to say she looked weak.
Valerie walked through the foyer for the last time and said hello to the receptionist, who gave her a sour smile that meant she already knew it was over. Valerie walked past HR and heard her name echoed twice before Sandra from HR shot out of the office and sidled up to her. This meant they needed to be with her until she gathered her things and exited the building. This meant they didn’t trust her on her own. After so many years here, they think I’m apt to explode. But isn’t that what I proved last night when I threw my drink on that horrible man?
Valerie didn’t pause at her desk and instead proceeded straight to her boss’s corner office with the exquisite view of Chinatown. The door was closed, and Audrey’s personal receptionist rose slowly and smiled with displeasure at Valerie. Valerie didn’t slow down.
“Valerie, Audrey is already in a meeting,” the receptionist called.
Sandra from HR teetered on the brink. It was clear she didn’t know whether to follow Valerie or hang back with the receptionist where she belonged; out here twiddling her thumbs and waiting for the higher-ups to say what was what. It was best not to irritate Audrey. But Valerie was prepared to meet her maker. She grabbed the golden door handle and twisted it, then burst into the sunny room to find Audrey bug-eyed behind her desk—and Saul Isaacson across from her.
Valerie’s heart slammed to a stop. Sandra nearly tumbled into her. And Audrey’s receptionist hurried after them and said, “Audrey, I’m terribly sorry about this. She just barged right in.”
Audrey looked just as flabbergasted as the rest of them. Her lipstick was partially smeared in the right corner, which was a rare thing for Audrey, for whom perfection was a necessity.
Saul had eyes only for Valerie. His smile sent jolts of electricity down her spine.
“Were your ears burning?” Saul asked.
Had Saul decided to come into the office to watch her get fired himself? Was he the kind of guy to take pleasure in that? Ever since she’d encountered him yesterday, he’d been awash with contradictions. There was no telling what he’d do next.
“Valerie, hi.” Audrey’s voice was high-pitched and nervous, a rarity for a woman so high up in business. “Please, come in. Sit down.”
“Do you need anything, Val?” Saul asked. “A coffee? A tea? A mimosa?” He seemed always on the verge of laughing at her. When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Why don’t you get Valerie a coffee?” of the receptionist, who hurried away like a chicken with its head cut off.
“Do you still need me?” Sandra from HR asked.
“We won’t be needing you, no,” Saul assured her. “Close the door on your way out, will you?”
Valerie sat down in the chair next to Saul. Her heart was on the verge of exploding. What is going on? Am I dreaming? She hated how good Saul smelled. She hated how smug he looked. She hated how he’d come in with his wealth and good looks and essentially ran the office now. It was that easy when you were Saul Isaacson. Handsome and wealthy men run the world. Just like Victor Sutton, they get away with everything.
“How are you, Val?” Saul asked.
Valerie flared her nostrils but decided not to make things worse for herself. “Just fine. And yourself?”
“I’m wonderful! But I caught wind this morning that things might not be going so well for your professional life. I wanted to chat with Audrey for a bit to see if there was anything I could do. Turns out she was about to fire you! Isn’t that crazy?”
Audrey winced, as though she was the one who’d done something wrong.
“Anyway, I assured her you did absolutely nothing wrong. Last night was a very successful affair,” Saul said. “And I asked if you’d be available to plan another gathering in about a month. She said yes. I hope it’s all right that she spoke for you?”
Valerie made eye contact with Audrey, searching her face for some sign of what she actually thought. But Audrey had on her “please the client above everything” face. She’d probably just fire Valerie after the next event was through and bide her time in the meantime.
“I appreciate that,” Valerie said. She considered her bank account. With the ever-rising costs in San Francisco, she knew she couldn’t actually afford to lose her job. Not now.
Saul clasped his hands together and smiled. “Wonderful! Why don’t we meet in my office later this week to review the details?” He pulled a business card from his breast pocket. Valerie was accustomed to receiving business cards. She took it and put it with the others, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of looking bemused. “How’s Friday?”
“Friday’s perfect.” Valerie found her voice and raised her chin as the receptionist returned with a cup of coffee. “Thanks again, Mr. Isaacson.”
He winked and stood. “Call me Saul. My father is Mr. Isaacson. And like you, I’m not entirely keen on my father.” Saul then shook hands with a wide-eyed Audrey and wished everyone a “remarkable rest of your day.” He was out the door in a flash, and his whistling could be heard all the way down the hall. Valerie was pretty sure the song was “Mr. Bluesky” by Electric Light Orchestra, her father's favorite.
Audrey picked up a stack of papers and tapped them on the desk. She didn’t want to look Valerie in the eye.
“When we took you back after your last escapade, we said one last chance. Do you remember that?” Her voice was low.
Valerie couldn’t help herself, saying, “It was just a couple of months ago. Of course I remember.”
Audrey glared at Valerie, and Valerie felt a jolt of the power Saul had given her. Why does he want to stand up for me?
“I want to say one final chance , but who knows what will happen next? Maybe you’ll shove a pie in the face of a CEO, and he’ll demand that you plan his daughter’s wedding,” Audrey stuttered. “Maybe you’ll crash into Meryl Streep’s car, and she’ll demand that you plan her godson’s brisque.”
“I don’t think Meryl Streep is Jewish.”
Audrey looked on the verge of growling.
“But I get your point,” Valerie was quick to add. “I’m sorry about last night. I am.”
“Do you and Mr. Isaacson know each other from somewhere else?” Audrey narrowed her eyes. She was trying to get to the bottom of it.
Valerie considered answering, He’s editing my father’s memoir, which reveals family secrets and uses us to bolster his career!
Instead, she said, “I didn’t even know his name till yesterday.”
It was best to leave facts out of the equation. It was best to let people stay confused.