Chapter 6 #3
Her perceptiveness had a down side, though. She could see through me easily, so early on, I’d stopped trying to hide my feelings.
But that wasn’t to say that I never tried again.
“No, Mom, I’m not calling about Peter. There’s nothing much to say about him.”
“Are you pleased with his work?”
“He seems to be on top of things,” I told her with what I thought was just the right amount of indifference. “The trial is set to start in three months. He has a lot of work to do between now and then.”
“If his reputation stands, he’ll do it.”
“I hope so.” In truth, I had no doubt about it, but feigning doubt helped my cause. “I worry a little that Cooper may be a small fish in a big pond. We may be in trouble if Peter has something else going on.”
“Of course he has other things going on. No lawyer can support himself on one case.”
“I know, but what if a spectacular case came along. It would overshadow everything else.”
“Do you have reason to think that’s happened?”
I hesitated. “No.”
“But you’re wondering if I’ve heard anything. No, Jillian, to my knowledge he hasn’t fallen across anything spectacular since he agreed to represent your friend.”
That meant he had no spectacular reason for not having called me. I sighed. “That’s a relief. I was worried.”
“Frankly,” my mother said—unnecessarily, because she was always frank—“I’m surprised you to have to ask me. That’s the kind of question you have every right to ask him yourself, since you’re paying him so much money. You should have asked it at the time you retained him.”
“It didn’t seem necessary then. He spent five full days here. He wouldn’t have been able to do that if he’d had anything of a spectacular nature going on back home. I was just wondering if anything’s come up since, and the reason I haven’t asked is that Cooper is the one who talks with him most.”
“Cooper?”
“Yes, Mom. Cooper. You know, my friend Cooper, who is accused of—”
“But why is Cooper doing the talking?”
“Because that’s the way it should be. Cooper’s the defendant.”
“I want you to talk with Peter. I want you to get to know him.”
“Why is that, Mom?”
“Oh, please, Jillian. Must I spell it out?”
She didn’t have to. I knew just what she was going to say, but I wanted to hear her say it anyway. “Yes.”
She gave a sigh that seemed to convey the years of frustration I’d single-handedly caused her.
“What am I going to do with you, Jillian? There are times when I wonder where your mind is—but I do know where it is. It’s up there in that godforsaken old house you have on that godforsaken cliff.
I felt a glimmer of hope when you called for the name of a lawyer for your friend.
It was clearly the right thing to do. I thought that maybe your mind was beginning to work again.
But it isn’t. It’s atrophying up there. If you can’t even see that Peter Hathaway is husband material, you’re a lost cause. ”
“Husband material for whom?” I asked, all innocence.
“You! Who else would I be concerned about!”
“But he must have dozens of women in the city,” I remarked, then held my breath and prayed that Mom was just riled up enough to lack her usual perception.
My luck held up. She sounded indignant. “If he had dozens of women in the city, I’d never be pushing him on you. No daughter of mine needs used goods, particularly in this day and age. There’s so much going around! That’s all we need.”
“It only takes one contact with the wrong woman to do the damage.”
“The man is very careful, Jillian. I checked that out before I ever called you with his name.”
“What do you mean, you checked it out? How can you check out something like that?”
“I know people. I know people who know people, and one of those people knows an old flame of Peter’s.
It seems he’s a one-woman man. He doesn’t run with the crowd the way some of them still do, AIDS or no AIDS.
He had a long-term relationship with this particular woman, and before that there was a long-term relationship with another woman. ”
“And before that another one? How about after? What’s he been doing with himself since that old flame friend of your friend?”
“He dates casually. Nothing more.”
“Does he use condoms?” I asked, thinking how far I’d come from the day I couldn’t tell my mother I’d gotten my period.
“Good Lord, Jillian, how would I know something like that?”
“You know everything else.”
“Not everything. I don’t know for sure why none of those relationships ever ended in marriage.” She grew pensive. “I do wonder about that. It’s surprising that, successful as he is, he doesn’t want a family.”
“He’s in his prime. He has time.”
“Still, it’s better to have children when you’re younger. Look at your father and me. We were just out of school. Our children are grown now, but we’re still young enough to lead active, exciting lives.”
I wanted to remind her that they’d led active, exciting lives even when we’d been kids. Money could buy whatever child care was needed. That didn’t mean the children always benefitted from the arrangement, but it did permit their parents to lead active, exciting lives.
I fantasized differently about Peter. “Maybe he wants to wait to have children until he’s at a stage in his career when he can afford to be an active father. Men are doing that nowadays.”
“Do you think he’d make a good father?”
I’d thought about that. “I don’t know. Several times when he was up here, there were kids around.
He didn’t go ga-ga over them. But he wasn’t bothered by them.
If anything, he seemed a little shy. I suppose it’s understandable.
He had an older brother who left home early on, but there were no younger siblings. He’s had no experience with kids.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Why would it? I’m no more experienced than he is.”
“If you were to have children, one of you should know what you’re doing.”
“We’d learn pretty quick.” Only after the words were out did I realize what I’d said. I’d stepped right into it. Once a shrewd defense attorney, my mother hadn’t lost her touch. “Hypothetically, of course. Neither of us is planning on having children, least of all together.”
“You’ve discussed it?”
“Of course not!” I couldn’t believe how quickly I’d lost my advantage in the discussion. Taking a slow breath, I went on more calmly. “My relationship with Peter is professional. Much as I hate to disappoint you, we didn’t fall in love at first sight.”
“Maybe you will on second sight, or third.”
“Not likely. I’m not interested in falling in love again.”
Mom gave one of those wise laughs that I hated. They usually preceded a truism. This time was no exception. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Jillian, because you don’t usually believe what I say, but love happens sometimes whether we want it or not.”
“Not to me,” I insisted. “I’m very much in control of what is and is not going on in my life.”
“Then why did you call, if not to pump me on what I knew about Peter Hathaway’s social life?”
“I called,” I told her, sounding remarkably mature and unruffled, given that she had me pegged, “to tell you I’ve decided to go to the show in New York.
You’re on the mailing list, so you’ll be getting a notice with the details, but it’s on for the second week in November.
The opening is on Sunday afternoon, but there’s going to be a pre-opening thing the Friday evening before.
You’re all invited to that, if you want to come,” I knew they wouldn’t, “or if you want to stop by during the regular times. I was thinking maybe you’d take the train up and we’d meet for lunch one day. ”
“Do you have to be at the show the whole time?”
“I should be, since I’ve decided to go.”
“But do you have to?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then why not come home for one of those nights? I’ll invite everyone over. We can have a nice family dinner together.” She paused, and I could just see one elegant brow arching. “Unless you were planning to be home for Thanksgiving anyway.”
I wasn’t, and she knew it. I had hoped that one or more members of my family coming into New York, which they did often enough, would eliminate my need to go to Philadelphia.
But my shows didn’t appeal to the Madigans, and I could see why.
If my work was being shown at the Guggenheim, they’d have been there in a minute.
The Fletcher-Dunn Gallery was something else.
I found it exciting, because the patrons of the gallery appreciated the kind of work I was doing, though it wouldn’t bother me if I never had a show, and I certainly didn’t aspire to the Guggenheim.
One part of me thought it was too bad that my family couldn’t recognize my career by putting in an appearance at my show. The other part was just as happy to keep them separate from my work. So if I had to go to Philadelphia, I supposed I could.
“How does Monday night sound?” I asked.
“Off the top of my head, it sounds fine,” Mom answered. “I’ll check with everyone here. If there’s a problem, I’ll let you know.”
“If I don’t hear from you, then, I’ll give you a call when I get to New York. I’ll be making reservations at the Park Lane.”
“The Park Lane? Why the Park Lane, when your father can get you a suite at the Parker Meridien for next to nothing?”
“The Park Lane is fine for what I want,” I told her.
I didn’t like taking favors from my father’s friends, because the favors almost always involved a catch, and I didn’t want to owe anyone a thing.
Besides, I liked the Park Lane. It was on Central Park South.
“Take care, Mom. I’ll talk with you soon. ”
I pressed the button on my phone, then released it and punched out Moni’s number in New York. I wanted to tell her that I’d decided to attend the show. I also wanted her to make the hotel reservations for me, and to see that an invitation to the pre-opening reception was sent to Peter.
After all, he was my best friend’s lawyer, on retainer to me. And he lived in New York. If nothing else, he could fill me in on the latest developments in Cooper’s case.