Chapter 4
Juliet had an interview with a young fashion guru who’d said online that she wanted to “look to women older than her for guidance, women who’d been in the industry longer and had the relevant instincts.
” It was to be held at eleven thirty that morning.
After struggling to get Danica out the door for school (a fight that felt unending, especially since Juliet and Alvin had split up), Juliet flung herself through the rituals she felt sure would get her this “job of a lifetime.” She meditated.
She exercised. She wrote positive affirmations in her journal.
After changing into a simple black-on-black outfit, she buttoned up her raincoat and went outside, then took the subway to the Upper East Side office where the interview was to be held.
Taking the subway was a rare thing for her.
Since marrying Alvin and becoming successful, Juliet had alternated between having a personal driver (funny to think of now) and riding in taxis.
Now, sitting on the train, gripping an iron railing because she hadn’t been able to find a seat, she tried to tell herself that this era of her life would soon be over.
She’d one day look back on this time of fear and loss with good humor.
She’d say, “I’m so glad I went through that. I learned a lot.”
Elektra’s secretary was a twentysomething blond man wearing a tank top and tight pants.
The fashion world was all about subversion.
The secretary took her back to Elektra’s office, which was painted teal and featured luxurious leather couches that Elektra soon told her were real, although she told most of her clients they were faux leather.
“So many clients aren’t keen on real leather,” Elektra said, stroking the material.
“Everyone wants to believe we live in a world where cruelty doesn’t exist!
Oh, but if you work in the fashion world for long enough, you realize that’s impossible. I imagine you know that?”
Juliet knew it better than anyone. Hadn’t she just been fired from her long-held position? Didn’t she feel like they were trying to put her out to pasture?
And wasn’t it awful to cower to this twenty-one-year-old influencer and ask for whatever money she could throw her way?
Juliet felt pathetic. But she put on her bravest smile and reminded herself that Manhattan was expensive, and she needed to work hard not only to pay for Danica’s school but also for that teensy Greenwich Village apartment.
The dream was to one day move into an apartment even better than the one that Alvin still had.
Maybe that would come when the divorce and alimony were finalized.
Juliet told herself to breathe, to be in the moment. But she realized she was already thinking of her future in terms of securing this job.
And then, Elektra asked her a question that startled her out of her reverie.
“Why didn’t you ever start your own fashion brand?” Elektra batted her long lashes. There was no malice in her question, but it spoke of a real lack of understanding of the industry, of money, and of the way life could sweep you away.
Juliet decided to be honest because the youths—Gen Z, if that was what Elektra was—liked honesty. At least, that was what she’d read online.
“I tried once,” Juliet said. “That was my dream. Just like it’s your dream. And doesn’t everyone in fashion want to have their own house?”
Elektra raised her eyebrows. “You started one? What happened?”
Juliet stuttered, suddenly nervous. She realized that Elektra now looked at her as though she were damaged goods, broken after a lifetime of use.
“Many things happened. For one, I was working for my previous employer at the time. We had a great deal of work to do, with extensive travel, and it took up much of my time. Too much to really focus on my own brand. Because—as you know from my portfolio—I work very hard. I throw everything into what my client or employer needs.”
Elektra sucked in her lower lip. “You gave up on yourself.”
Juliet’s heartbeat fluttered in her neck. She suddenly felt as though interviews were different from what they were before she’d gotten her last job. It felt as though Elektra wanted Juliet to be an entirely different person, one who’d had money from an early age and hadn’t had to build herself up.
She wanted someone exactly like her, but older. Maybe she wanted someone older to make her look younger, bolder, and more beautiful. Juliet swallowed her distaste and tried to smile.
She could still get through this interview. She had to.
“I came to the city with nothing,” Juliet said delicately. “I went to fashion school, but I had to work many, many odd jobs to get me through. I did some modeling, of course. But that dried up, just as it does for so many.”
Elektra looked at her quizzically. It made Juliet realize that Elektra was still too young to know she would ever grow old, and that one day people wouldn’t want her the same way.
“I mean, I don’t have the same following as you,” Juliet hurried to add. “You’ve been hustling since you were a kid, basically. I can’t imagine.”
Elektra relaxed the slightest bit. “Yes, well. I knew what I wanted. I was just a kid, going to boarding school, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. It’s not that everything fell in my lap. I worked hard to build my empire!” She extended her arms on either side.
But Juliet knew that Elektra had always had money to fall back on. She’d always had a parachute, ready to open and pull her back from the drop below. It was a parachute called familial wealth.
By contrast, Juliet had never had such a parachute. She’d always had just enough to get by. And then she’d married a handsome, successful lawyer and given birth to Danica. She’d thought she had everything she needed, that she’d be supported for the rest of her days and her career would continue.
Elektra batted her eyelashes. “I think we’re done.”
Juliet knew at that moment that she hadn’t gotten the job. She knew that Elektra thought she was too old and too pathetic to work with, that she wouldn’t strengthen Elektra’s brand. But Juliet wasn’t willing to go down without a fight.
She couldn’t stop herself.
“You don’t know this, but it will all fall apart for you, too,” Juliet shot.
Elektra’s sweet disposition snapped to reveal an angry creature just beneath. Elektra was on her feet, pressing a button, maybe for security. “Don’t say anything you’re going to regret, Miss Larker.”
“It’s Harper,” Juliet shot back. “Juliet Harper.”
“Whatever.” Elektra gaped at her. “You’re angry with me because I’m beautiful and I’m talented and I have everything that you wanted for yourself but couldn’t manage to get. Boo-hoo.”
Juliet couldn’t stop shaking. Before finding the right words, she felt a hand at her elbow, guiding her out of the room and toward the elevator.
Before she knew it, she was outside the high-rise, gasping for breath.
Had that really happened? Could she go back and do it again?
Could she fix the mess she’d made of her life?
* * *
It was impossible to say what led Juliet from Elektra’s office building to her old neighborhood.
Maybe it was sheer muscle memory that took her from the Upper East to the Upper West Side, the iconic, luxurious area where she and Alvin had decided to raise their beautiful baby girl, Danica.
They’d wanted her to know the very best people.
They’d wanted to set her up for success.
More than that, Juliet knew they’d wanted to be regarded as the upper-echelon of Manhattan society.
They’d wanted to get reservations at the “correct” restaurants to be seen at on a Friday or Saturday night.
They’d wanted to shop at the right places and wear the finest clothes.
Only a few times through the years did Juliet pause and wonder if this was an empty way to live.
But whenever she got around to answering said question, there was always another cocktail hour to attend or another fashion shoot to organize.
Just like that, years of her life had drifted away.
Juliet wandered the streets she’d once known, telling herself that she still belonged and, at the same time, praying that she wouldn’t run into anyone that she’d once known.
Probably, the friends she’d had up here had already adopted Alvin’s girlfriend Maggie into the fold.
(This did not mean that they didn’t talk badly about Maggie behind her back, because they most certainly did.)
She walked past the playground where Danica had once scabbed her knee and Gwyneth Paltrow, of all people, had offered a Band-Aid.
She walked past the CVS where Juliet had once fainted midway through a terrible diet plan that she’d needed in the lead-up to the Met Gala.
She walked past countless restaurants and bars, where she and Alvin had dined and laughed and kissed.
She walked and walked and walked, doing circles around places she’d always loved.
And then, she spotted Alvin and Maggie, across the street, eating ice cream cones.
Juliet’s pulse quickened in her throat. At first, she thought maybe she had it wrong, that she was just imagining them.
After all, shouldn’t they be at work at two thirty on a weekday?
But when she blinked, they came into better focus.
Maggie was licking a strawberry ice cream, something childish and pink, while Alvin had his pistachio, which he’d always ordered, ever since Juliet had first met him.
Juliet couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten ice cream with Alvin.
For some reason, this fact alone floored her.
She wanted to throw herself to the ground and weep.
She needed to get out of there. But the street was crowded, and it was difficult to pick her way to the corner, where she could duck out of sight.
When she glanced back at Alvin and Maggie, they were looking at her, their eyes enormous.
Maggie did not look pleased. But Alvin? He looked amused, as though this were a show made especially for him.
Juliet knew she couldn’t run away, not now.
It would make her look weak. So she raised her hand, then crossed the road at the traffic light, trying to come up with an excuse as to why she was in their neighborhood.
For some reason, the first thing that came to her mind was a Botox appointment.
But she was not going to be telling her husband’s younger affair partner that.
“Hi there,” she said, pretending to be bright and free. “That ice cream looks incredible!”
Maggie blinked at her. Alvin stood and smiled. “What are you doing in our neck of the woods?”
She stuttered, then said, “I had a business meeting, actually.”
“Oh! Are you back in the fashion world?” Alvin asked.
“That’s right,” Juliet said, eager to follow her train of thought wherever it needed to go. “I’m working with, um. Elektra? She’s a TikTok star, and…”
“I know her,” Maggie said, raising her chin.
“Of course you do,” Alvin said. “Maggie’s always on TikTok.”
Juliet felt the not-so-subtle dig like a knife between Alvin and Maggie. She wanted to relish it, but she found herself feeling bad for Maggie instead. Alvin could be a tough guy to have around. He was judgmental, to say the least.
Maggie looked at Juliet angrily, as though her success with Elektra was ruining her relationship with Alvin. Juliet kept her smile up. Pretending was easy, sort of.
“I’m glad we ran into you, actually,” Alvin said. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Juliet remembered Alvin’s text from yesterday about Danica and how sick he and Maggie were of her “bad attitude.” Juliet grimaced, willing herself to stand up for her daughter.
“Maybe we can chat in private?” Juliet suggested. She didn’t want to talk about Danica in front of Maggie.
“This involves Maggie, actually,” Alvin said firmly. “It’s big news. I’ve just accepted a job in Singapore.”
Juliet’s lips parted with surprise. “Singapore? Wow.” Her heart thumped with a mix of emotions. One of them was glee that he was leaving and she wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. But she knew it was more complicated than that.
“We need a fresh start somewhere else,” Alvin continued. “And you know I’ve always been interested in Asian cultures.”
“Right.” Juliet also remembered that Singapore was a tax haven, a place for the super wealthy to hide.
“And we feel like it’s our chance to follow our dream,” Alvin parroted what Juliet used to say to Callie back in Bluebell Cove. “We’re not getting any younger, right?”
Juliet wanted to throw up. “What about Danica?”
Alvin smiled. “We’re happy to have her visit whenever she wants to and her school schedule allows it. Provided we’re not traveling or something like that.”
Juliet gaped at him. In the span of half a year, he’d gotten rid of his wife and now his daughter.
“Do you remember what we talked about when we had Danica?” she asked, surprising herself.
Alvin raised his shoulders. “That was a long time ago.”
“Sure, but I remember, so I’ll tell you.” Juliet ignored Maggie’s monstrous gaze. “We talked about how having a child meant giving up some of our personal dreams. Not everything. But we knew we had to be here for her. We had to stand guard. We had to make her feel protected and safe.”
Alvin kept his smile up, bright. “She’s fourteen years old, Juliet. She can take care of herself.”
Rage rose in Juliet’s chest. She knew that Alvin couldn’t comprehend how young and naive Danica still was. He’d hardly paid attention to her development over the years and had lost interest in parenting around the time Danica had begun to speak.
Alvin clapped her on the shoulder, startling her out of her reverie. She couldn’t believe how much she hated him.
“Just get through these final teenage years and move on with your life,” Alvin said, as though motherhood was a brief era rather than a completely altered state of mind. “Our lawyers are about to clear up all this divorce crap, and we can move on from that, too.”
He continued to beam at her, as though everything was settled. Behind her, on the street, traffic tightened, and horns blared, and Juliet had the sudden sensation that the city was too loud, too alienating, too frightening. She’d never felt that before.