5. Chapter 5 #3
Carmella is the antithesis of my current state. Her dark hair falls in a sleek curtain to her shoulders, not a strand out of place. No coffee stains mar her perfection. She is perfection embodied. Years ago, she was the exact woman I rated highest on my compatibility metrics before choosing Elowen.
The waiter materializes at our table. “Mr. Plaza, Ms. Ruiz. May I suggest the 2011 Barolo?”
Carmella raises a brow at me. I nod, beyond caring about wine pairings.
“So,” she says when the waiter disappears, “are we pretending nothing’s wrong, or would you like to discuss why you look like you slept in your car?”
“Elowen left.” The words come out flatter than I intend.
Carmella doesn’t look surprised. “When?”
“Yesterday. She formally resigned as my executive secretary this morning.”
“Ah.” She takes a sip of water, leaving a perfect lipstick imprint on the glass. “May I ask what prompted this dramatic exit?”
“Don’t play games, Carmella, it’s not like you.”
For what it’s worth, she looks ashamed. “The list, I presume.”
“Yes.”
“That sent her running for the hills? Seems like an overreaction to me.”
“Exactly.” Relief floods through me at her instant understanding. “It was years ago. A practical exercise in decision-making. She’s acting like I committed some cardinal sin by approaching marriage logically. If it were up to me, everyone would do the same. The divorce rate is much too high.”
Of course, a little voice screams inside me, You’re on the verge of divorce, dummy! But it’s inconvenient to me, so I ignore it.
The waiter returns with our wine, going through the tasting ritual that suddenly seems pointlessly elaborate. When he leaves, Carmella leans forward.
“Julian, you did nothing wrong. Some women need emotional drama. They create crises to feel important.”
“That doesn’t sound like Elowen.” Even as I say it, I’m not sure it’s true. The Elowen I thought I knew wouldn’t abandon her responsibilities on a whim.
Carmella shrugs one elegant shoulder. “People surprise you, especially when they feel threatened.”
“Threatened by what?”
Her smile turns knowing. “By reality. By the fact that relationships aren’t fairy tales. That men like you make practical choices.” She swirls her wine. “It’s actually rather manipulative: creating this situation where you’re suddenly helpless without her, waiting for you to come begging.”
I hadn’t considered that angle. “You think she planned this?”
“I think she saw an opportunity and took it. It’s a power play, Julian. And judging by your appearance, it’s working.”
Our food arrives: poached salmon for her and steak for me. I cut into the meat, thinking that I have that meeting at two p.m., so I can’t stay long.
“The Children’s Hospital Gala is next week,” I say after a few bites. “Elowen was supposed to attend with me.”
Carmella sets down her fork. “That’s the black-tie event at the Haverford? Where you’re presenting the corporate donation?”
I nod. “Elowen handled all the details. The seating arrangements, my speech notes, even had my tux dry cleaned.”
“And now you’re left scrambling.” She shakes her head sympathetically. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Strategic abandonment. I could help.”
“What?”
“With the gala. I could attend with you. It’s for a good cause, and it would save you the embarrassment of showing up alone after”—she gestures vaguely—“all this.”
The offer is perfectly logical. Carmella moves in the same social circles. She’s poised, articulate, and familiar with these functions. There would be no awkward explanations needed. Everyone knows we’ve maintained a professional friendship over the years.
“That’s generous of you.”
She waves away my thanks. “It’s practical. And I could help with the transition at work, too. I know several excellent executive assistants who could step in temporarily.”
“Temporarily,” I repeat.
“Until Elowen comes to her senses.”
By the time we finish lunch, a plan has taken shape. Carmella will attend the gala, and she’ll also put me in touch with a temporary assistant. Thank God, because Virginia is just awful. I don’t know what my wife sees in her.
Everything that was spinning out of control is suddenly manageable again.
I pay the bill, declining her offer to split it. Some habits die hard.
Outside the restaurant, she squeezes my arm. “It will all work out, Julian, one way or another.”
In the privacy of my car, I finally pull out my phone. Still no messages from Elowen.
Fine. I’ll break down first.
Virginia mentioned your resignation. Please coordinate with HR regarding outstanding projects and transition materials. Your personal items can be collected as arranged.
I know that Virginia says she already has coordinated with HR, but since I have no idea where my files or schedule looks like, I’m hoping she’ll elaborate more.
I start my car, straighten my shoulders, and check my reflection in the rearview mirror. I look more in control already. By next week, with Carmella on my arm at the gala, Elowen will see exactly what she’s giving up, and she’ll come running back.