Chapter 14 – Cora
CORA
I actually forget to hate Adrian for the next several days.
We go back to having breakfast as a family, and the bread basket has lots of new muffin flavors—blueberry, apple cinnamon, and chocolate chip.
He works from home and takes breaks in the afternoon to play outside with the kids.
He goes with us to the Holiday Mart in the local village.
He has a new phone, but it doesn’t ring.
He keeps asking me to spend time alone with him, but he doesn’t try to kiss me or talk to me about the past, and I try to forget that he asked me about Baltimore. I knew he must’ve had me vetted when we met. He vetted the guy who delivers our heating oil and the guys who pump the septic tank.
Mrs. Flowers told me I’d be fine as long as I kept things vague. Say “elementary school” not “James McHenry Elementary,” say “when I lived in Baltimore,” not “when I was at Villa Theresa.” It was easy to do what she said. My memory of those days is fuzzy at best anyway.
Adrian has access to the best investigators in the world, but the ruse held. He can wonder all he wants about those six months. He can dig if he wants. There’s nothing to find.
That’s what I tell myself.
I’m actually feeling a little more firm-footed and a little less floaty when Drake Chambers calls.
Pearl and I are making letters and words in shaving cream on her art table while Winnie supervises from her baby bouncer.
I have to answer the phone with my pinkie and hold it between my ear and shoulder while I rinse my hands.
“Hello.”
“Mrs. Maddox! Drake Chambers. How are you?”
“Good.” I’m not Cora anymore?
“I’m sorry it’s been a minute. I intended to call sooner, but I wanted to have something concrete to tell you before I did. Do you have time to talk now?”
“Sure.” Pearl is fully occupied with making an unholy mess, and Winnie is happy watching.
“Well, I’m afraid it’s a case of good news, bad news. Which would you like first?”
“The good news?” I’m frankly surprised there is any.
“So, I’ve been in touch with Nicolet and Burgess, and they’ve indicated a willingness on your husband’s part to discuss amending your agreement.”
“The custody part?”
“We haven’t gotten into the nitty-gritty yet, but we can certainly request that custody be on the table.”
Adrian didn’t mention this. Is this a rich person thing? Delegating your marriage to the lawyers? “Okay. What’s the bad news?”
“Well, maybe ‘bad’ is unduly prejudicial. As a show of good faith, Mr. Maddox has asked that you attend a business function with him. A holiday dinner, I believe, with clients.”
That stupid night out without the kids. Adrian won’t let it go. I don’t want to be around him alone. It’s trouble.
“I don’t want to do that. Maybe after we amend the agreement.”
For a few seconds, I’m afraid the call dropped, but then Drake says, “Mrs. Maddox, unfortunately, it’s my understanding that Mr. Maddox is not willing to enter discussions regarding possible amendment until after you demonstrate an openness to abide by the, uh, less contentious stipulations of the present agreement. ”
What happened to this guy? I don’t remember him talking like the small print at the end of a drug commercial when we met the first time.
“What are you saying?”
Drake exhales. “Cora, you’ve got to believe, I’m fighting for you out here. I’m in the trenches with these guys, getting dirty, and they’re simply not going to give unless we do. They want an initial concession, and in your prenup, you agreed to attend business functions.”
“I didn’t know I agreed to that.”
“I know that. Hell, they know that. But this is where we’re at. You want me to tell them to kick rocks, that’s what I’ll do. You’re the boss. You’re in control here.”
I stifle a snort. What a joke. “What dinner? When?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have those details. I’m sure you can get them from Mr. Maddox.”
“And if I go, he’ll agree to get rid of that custody agreement?”
“He has agreed to instruct his attorneys to open negotiations around amending the agreement.”
“So he has agreed to fuck all.” Reading legalese is one thing, but when you hear people say it out loud like it’s English, the bullshit is super obvious.
I stare out the bathroom window. Adrian’s Scorpion is parked out front, and he’s standing out there, chatting with Sal, one of the groundskeepers, probably about the car. He loves that thing. It’s one of the only things that interests him outside of business.
“Okay. Tell them I agree. Is that all?”
“As of now, yes.” He drops his voice a register in that way guys do when they’re about to butter you up.
“Cora, I know this is hard for you, and I wish I could make it easier, but I want you to know that I’m here for you.
I’m fighting for you, and it’s all going to work out in the end.
You just have to keep the faith. Can you do that for me? ”
Did I really get a good feeling about this guy at his office? My radar is busted. “I want that part about custody gone.”
“We’ll make it happen, Mrs. Maddox.”
I hang up. Why do I feel like my lawyer isn’t exactly working for me anymore?
Down in the drive, Adrian laughs at something Sal says. He sways back on his heels, his hands in his pockets. The sun glints on his thick, shiny hair. He doesn’t have a care in the world.
He’s about to.
I shove my phone in my jeans pocket. “Come on, Pearl. I need to go talk to Daddy.” It’s the only thing I could say that would make her okay with walking away from a table covered in shaving cream.
She holds up her soapy hands. “What about these?”
I grab her by the waist, carry her to the sink, hold her over the basin so she can stick her hands under the faucet, and aim her at the towel. She scrubs, dries, and turns off the water for me. We’re a well-oiled machine.
“Don’t forget Winnie, Mommy,” she reminds me.
“I wasn’t going to.” I slide the baby into her ring sling and my feet into the Crocs by the door. “Let’s go.”
I’m not sure exactly what I’m going to say—or what I even can say in front of the girls—but he can’t just have his lawyer tell my lawyer to push me around while he yuks it up, talking cars with the gardener.
We startle Vera as we parade through the foyer. She’s fussing with this week’s roses. The florist has moved on from fall colors to the red and white he sends through the holidays.
“Oh, let me get the door for you, Mrs. Maddox,” Vera says, hurrying over.
“I’ve got it,” Pearl announces, and she mostly does. After she slips out the crack she makes, I open the door the rest of the way and trail after her down the steps to the U-shaped drive.
Adrian has the gall to catch my eye and smile.
“Where are you ladies going?” he asks.
“To visit you, Daddy.” Pearl reaches for him, and he swings her into his arms.
“How’d I get so lucky?”
“Mommy got a phone call in the bathroom and then she said, ‘I need to talk to Daddy.’”
My cheeks heat. I can’t be mad. By the time I was her age, I already knew not to rat my mom out to a man. Pearl doesn’t even have that concept and that’s a point of pride for me.
“Oh, did she?” Adrian’s eyes go sharkish. “Do you want to drive Daddy’s car while I listen to what Mommy has to say?”
“Yes!”
“Well, that’s my cue to run and hide,” Sal jokes. “Mrs. Maddox.” He nods.
“Sorry to interrupt, Sal.”
“Not at all.” He touches the brim of his ballcap and heads toward the garage.
Adrian is already helping Pearl into the Scorpion. “Point to the emergency brake,” he says.
She does.
“Do we ever touch that?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“The car will roll away, and you’ll be sad.”
“Correct. Point to the gear shift.”
She does.
“Do you touch that?”
“Not until I know what I’m doing.”
“That’s right.” He grins and tousles her hair. “Have fun, Speed Racer.” He steps away, leaving the door open so he can see what she’s doing.
He seems so pleased to watch her steer and then turn to look over her shoulder, pretending to back up, clearly imitating him. Why does he want a boy so bad?
I ask him, quietly, careful that Pearl doesn’t hear. “Why did you pay more for a boy than a girl?”
His smile disappears. “Come on. Let’s sit on the stairs.”
He leads me back toward the house and helps me lower myself to the bottom step. Winnie is conked out in her sling. Pearl is chatting away to herself as she drives, presumably in a parade based on the number of times she’s waving to passersby.
When Adrian joins me on the step, he sits too close.
I don’t want to wiggle over and wake the baby, so I glare at him.
He manspreads even more so that his thigh presses against mine.
I used to love when he crowded me. I read it as affection, but I think it’s just a strategy.
Intimidation. Since he’s so close, I let my elbow dig into his arm.
“By ‘pay more,’ do you mean the bonuses for the births?” he asks.
“Are you buying babies other than ours?”
He half-snorts and doesn’t answer immediately.
I figure he’s not going to when he finally says, “I had a lot of expectations when I decided I wanted to get married. I guess one of them was that I wanted sons. I wanted daughters, too, but you know, I’m one of four brothers.
I wanted sons who could back each other up, look out for their sisters.
The world’s a hard place. You can’t trust anyone. ” He grows quiet.
That doesn’t make any sense. “How was paying me more for a boy going to make me have one? It’s the sperm that decides. Sex is on you.”
He blows out a breath and braces his forearms on his thighs.
His shoulder bumps mine. “I don’t know. Outcomes are driven by incentive.
I’m a businessman. I thought like a businessman.
” He sighs again. “Look, back then, I saw all this as a deal. In negotiations, you go in asking for everything—pie in the sky, whatever you’d want in an ideal world—and it’s the other guy’s job to talk you down. ”
“And I’m the other guy?”
His jaw flexes. “I saw you that way then, yes.”
“But not now?”
“No.”
“But still you send your lawyers to tell my lawyer that I’ve got to go to dinner with you if I don’t want to lose my kids?”
“Are we talking about the phone call in the bathroom?”
“You can just threaten me yourself. It’d be cheaper.”
He takes a second to respond, like he’s choosing his words. “And what exactly is the threat?”
“You know—if I don’t go to dinner with you, you won’t renegotiate the prenup.”
Adrian nods, his face suddenly unreadable. “That sounds more like an enticement to me than a threat.”
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”
That throws him a little. His lip twitches. “So you’ll go to dinner with me?”
“I was told it’s a business dinner.”
“Yes. Of course. Dinner with clients.”
“I don’t know why you care about this so much. I don’t help you with your clients. I just sit there, smile politely, and try not to let on that I’m bored.”
Adrian glances over at me and then turns to watch Pearl, so he’s not looking at me when he says, “You have no idea what it’s worth to me to sit across from you and watch you smile again. When I—When I fucked up, I didn’t know what it would entail. I miscalculated.”
My chest aches. I cradle Winnie a little closer.
“You could say you’re sorry, you know.”
His gaze darts to my face. “Would that make it better?”
“No.” I duck my head so my nose is closer to Winnie’s peach fuzzy head, so her sweet baby smell makes it hurt less. “But you’d have said it, at least.”
He straightens his spine, drawing his shoulders back, like he’s got to square up against the very idea. “Men like me—we—apologies don’t come naturally to us.”
“You’re rich,” I huff. “You’re not special.”
“Touché.” He flashes me a wry smile. We sit in silence a little longer before he clears his throat and says very quietly, “I’m sorry I fucked everything up, Cora.”
“You can shove your apology up your ass, Adrian,” I quietly say back.
Keeping his eyes on Pearl in the car, he firms his jaw to hide his smile. After a few minutes, I let myself slump a little against him, let him take some weight. It’s cold out here, and marble stairs aren’t the most comfortable.
And maybe I miss things, too.