Good Intentions Read online

  “Apparently.”

  “Just what are you trying to prove by dating Marc Cameron?”

  Lynn reached the safe side of her desk and lowered herself slowly into her chair. “I’m not trying to prove anything.”

  “What’s gotten into you lately, Lynn? What’s going on in your head? First you follow Suzette into a dress store …”

  “I didn’t follow her.”

  “Then you try to humiliate her by trying on the same dress …”

  “Believe me, I wasn’t trying to humiliate her …”

  “Then why did you do it? Can you tell me that? What were you doing in that store in that goddamn dress?”

  Lynn shrugged. What could she say? That the afternoon had just kind of gotten away from her? That she didn’t know what she was doing in that store except indulging her curiosity? That the only person who had been humiliated that afternoon was herself? And how dare he question what was going on in her head? Had she been the one to send flowers on their erstwhile anniversary?

  “And then on Saturday, Suzette goes to see her husband to ask him if he can take the boys that night … her babysitter canceled … and who does she find when she opens the door? The lady in the orange dress—little Miss Schuster herself.”

  “Mrs. Schuster,” Lynn said evenly, and for a minute, Gary was speechless.

  He bounced his fists against his thighs, pacing back and forth in front of her desk. Lynn noticed that her own hands were shaking and quickly hid them in her lap. “What were you doing in Marc Cameron’s apartment, Lynn?” Gary asked after a long pause.

  “I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” Lynn answered steadily.

  “I think it is.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it concerns my children, for one thing.”

  “What are you talking about? How does it concern your children? Our children,” she corrected.

  “Think about it.”

  “I am thinking about it. You’re not making any sense.”

  “How do you think the kids would feel if they found out their mother was dating …” He stumbled, not sure what words to use.

  “… the husband of the woman their father ran off with?” Lynn finished the sentence for him, surprised to find that it gave her a certain satisfaction to see him flinch.

  Gary Schuster was shaking his head. “I didn’t think you were a vindictive person.”

  “I’m not being vindictive.”

  “Dating Marc Cameron isn’t your way of getting back at me?”

  “Dating Marc Cameron has nothing to do with you.”

  “Oh, come on, Lynn, stop kidding yourself. Why else would you be seeing him if not to get back at me? It would be funny if it weren’t so pathetic,” he said, and Lynn felt stung by his words, as if she had been slapped with a ruler by her favorite teacher. “Can’t you see what you’re doing?”

  “No, I can’t see what I’m doing,” she replied, putting equal emphasis on each word, as he had done.

  “You’re using this man to try and hold on to me, or at the very least to keep tabs on me. Marc Cameron is an irresponsible bum. He’s not your type at all. You wouldn’t let yourself get within ten feet of the man if it weren’t because of me.”

  “Marc Cameron is not an irresponsible bum. He’s a very talented man in a very insecure profession.”

  “He’s an irresponsible bum. I don’t want him anywhere near my children.”

  “I’d like to keep our children out of this discussion.”

  “How do you think they’re going to feel when they find out about you and Marc Cameron?”

  “Are you going to tell them?”

  “Of course not.” He seemed genuinely angered by the suggestion.

  “Well, then, since we’ve already agreed not to introduce any further complications into our children’s lives for at least a few more months,” Lynn said pointedly, watching Gary wince at the veiled reference to Suzette, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  “This is a small town, Lynn. People talk.”

  “Who are you really concerned about, Gary? Your children or yourself?”

  “That kind of remark is really beneath you, Lynn.”

  “I’m trying to understand why you’re so angry.”

  “I’m angry,” he said, spitting the words, “and frankly, I wouldn’t have thought it required a master’s degree in social work to figure it out, because you are deliberately using Marc Cameron to hound me.”

  “I’m doing no such thing. My relationship with Marc Cameron doesn’t concern you at all. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “It has everything to do with me. The man wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for me.”

  Lynn almost laughed but stopped herself. Marc Cameron might appreciate the irony, but Gary Schuster certainly wouldn’t.

  “Just what are your intentions concerning Marc Cameron?” he asked, almost primly.

  “That’s none of your business,” Lynn said, and realized it was the second time she had said it. The knowledge that things that concerned her were no longer any of her husband’s business made her feel empty and more than a little strange.

  “I think I have a right to know.”

  “I think you forfeited any rights you had with regard to me when you walked out.”

  “Are you going to marry him?”

  “Oh, please …” Lynn said, the words spilling out of her mouth in a gasp.

  “But you are sleeping with him,” he stated as if it were fact.

  Lynn stared at her husband in astonishment, unable to form the proper words of denial.

  “Marc Cameron is a loser, Lynn. The man is forty years old. He’s never made more than thirty thousand dollars a year in his life.”

  “What has that got to do with anything? Since when has a person’s income been the sole judge of his worth?”

  “Oh, come on, Lynn. Let’s not go all teenage idealistic on me, okay? And don’t try to put words in my mouth. You know what I’m trying to say. The last thing you need …”

  “Please don’t tell me what I need.”

  “All right, then, the last thing our children need is a man around the house their mother has to support.”

  “Our children are our responsibility—yours and mine—not Marc Cameron’s, and what he does for a living, unless he’s breaking the law, is no concern of either theirs or yours.” Lynn rose to her feet. “And not that he needs defending, but Marc Cameron happens to be a very gifted writer. If his wife was too stupid to understand that, that’s her problem, not mine.”

  The color drained from Gary’s face. “I won’t stand here and let you insult Suzette.”

  “Perhaps, then, you’d better leave.”

  Gary turned abruptly toward the door, then stopped, whipping back in her direction. “My money’s not going to support him, that’s for damn sure.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Gary walked back toward her desk, waving his arms. “I’m not going to work like a dog in order to give you money every month so that you can throw it away on bums like Marc Cameron.”

  Lynn felt her body lift out of her chair. She leaned forward, balancing her fists on the top of her desk. “May I remind you that the money you give me every month is for your children. You’re not paying me any alimony.”

  “I’m not going to keep paying the mortgage so you can move some other guy into my house a few months after I’m gone.”

  “I don’t believe I’m hearing this.”

  “Can’t you see what a fool you’re making of yourself, Lynn? Can’t you see how pathetic this makes you look?”

  It was the second time he had used that word, and it had lost none of its power to sting. Lynn felt wounded. She felt her eyes fill with tears and quickly turned her head toward the window. She didn’t want Gary to see her cry. Dammit, she didn’t want to cry at all. She was too angry to cry. Why did women always have to cry? Tears rendered them useless, branded them emotional
cripples, rendered them mere children in the battle of the sexes. Children were always the first casualties in any war. She was a grown-up, dammit. Why did she have to cry?

  “I’m not trying to hurt you, Lynn,” he said, and a sound escaped Lynn’s mouth that was halfway between a laugh and a howl. “Well, you can believe me or not, but it really wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

  Lynn swallowed the large lump in her throat and turned back to her husband, her eyes glistening. “Just what was your intention?” she asked, almost the same prim question he had asked earlier.

  “I was angry, I admit that. I was shocked. I mean, how would you feel?”

  “I imagine it’s a bit like the way you feel when you find out your husband is leaving you for another woman.”

  There was a pause. “All right. I guess I deserved that. But the point is …”

  “Yes, what is the point?”

  “The point is that you and I both know that you’re using this man as a way of getting back at me, and I can’t let you do that. Not to me, not to yourself, not to our children.”

  “I don’t understand how you’re …”

  “Let me explain, then,” he interrupted, his voice carrying an unpleasant undertone which threatened to overtake it completely. “If you don’t agree to stop this affair with Cameron …”

  “We are not having an affair!”

  “If you don’t agree to stop this affair with Cameron,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “then you can forget all about our generous settlement agreement. Not only will I not pay the mortgage, but I’ll fight you for half the house. You won’t see a dime from me.”

  Lynn could hardly hear what he was saying over the loud thumping of her heart. “But why, for God’s sake? Is your ego so bruised …”

  “My ego has nothing to do with this. If you aren’t thinking clearly enough to see how your actions could hurt our children …”

  “Isn’t it a little late to be worrying about hurting our children? You didn’t worry about that when you left. Isn’t walking out on them enough without forcing them out of their house as well?”

  “My children will always have a place to live,” Gary said steadily. “I’m their father. I have as much right to them as you do. If you can’t look after them properly …”

  Lynn felt her blood turn to ice. “Are you saying you’d try to take them away from me?” she heard herself ask, hearing Patty Foster’s voice.

  “They’re my children too.”

  “But we agreed they would live with me. It was never an issue.”

  “It’s an issue now.”

  Lynn lifted one hand to her forehead. “Are you saying that if I don’t stop seeing Marc Cameron you’ll fight me for custody?”

  “I don’t want to have to go that route, Lynn.”

  “I can’t believe you would do that to me.”

  “Don’t force my hand.”

  “Why would you want to hurt me like that?”

  “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t need your protection!”

  “That was always our problem,” he said quietly. “You never needed me at all.”

  Lynn sank back into her chair. “I guess I don’t know you very well,” she said, a wondrous quality to her voice. She stared into her husband’s eyes and was surprised to find them the same deep brown they had always been. “I can’t believe you’d do this.”

  “I have to protect myself, Lynn. I have to protect what’s mine.”

  Lynn said nothing, too stunned even to cry.

  “Think about it,” Gary told her. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You can have your lawyer call mine by the end of the week. I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.” He walked to the door and stopped. “I’m sorry if what I’ve said sounds harsh …”

  “No, you’re not.”

  (“No, I’m not,” Marc Cameron would have answered.)

  “Have it your way,” Gary said, and was gone.

  EIGHTEEN

  “I’ve been paying for my mistakes long enough, thank you,” the elderly woman was saying, her face flushing pink with anger under her soft gray hair, “and I have no intention of paying you to make more for me.”

  Renee Bower leaned across her desk, her hands reaching out to the woman in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Reinking. Maybe I was out of line …”

  “No maybes about it,” the woman responded, her watery blue eyes not ready to let go of her indignation. “I understand your intentions are good, but may I remind you that I am the client and that you are being paid to represent my wishes …”

  “You’re paying me to represent your best interests.”

  “In this case, they are one and the same thing. And I will not be bullied into doing something I don’t want to do. Now, I have already instructed you to accept the settlement offer …”

  “But it’s not a good one, Mrs. Reinking. Your husband is a very wealthy man and what he’s offering you is almost laughable after all the years you’ve been married, and what you’ve put up with during that time. We can do much better.”

  “I just want to be free of him.”

  “I understand that, but you have to think of your future …”

  “I have no future,” the woman told her directly. “I am dying, Mrs. Bower.” She delivered this last statement in so matter-of-fact a fashion that Renee’s mouth fell open before she had time to temper her response. “I have perhaps another year to live, and what my husband is offering will be more than enough to see me through it comfortably. My children are grown-up and well provided for. All I want from you is my divorce decree. I’m not interested in what you think is fair, or what you might think about anything, for that matter. I have taken orders throughout forty-six years of marriage and I am sick, quite literally to death, of doing what other people tell me to do. I am not about to start taking orders from you. Now, either accept the settlement offer or I’ll find myself another attorney. Am I making myself very clear?”

  Renee picked up her phone and buzzed her secretary. “Marilyn, get Mitchell Weir on the phone and tell him we accept his client’s offer of settlement.”

  “Thank you,” Gemma Reinking said, a touch of the aristocrat in her New England accent. “Now I know why Fred liked to give orders. It feels good.”

  Renee stood up and extended her hand across the top of her desk. “I’ll call you as soon as we get the papers. You can come in and sign them at your convenience.”

  “Are you happily married, Mrs. Bower?” the woman asked suddenly.

  Renee’s eyes opened wide, her smile freezing on her lips as she struggled to find a suitable response. What was the matter with her? she thought, wondering why the words refused to form. Of course she was happily married. She enjoyed a lifestyle most people could only imagine, and she was married to the man of her dreams. What was the matter with her? Why didn’t she simply open her mouth and tell this woman she was happy?

  “Never mind, dear,” Gemma Reinking said softly. “Maybe one day you’ll understand why I’m doing things this way. You’ll know that sometimes it’s worth anything just to be rid of them.” She winked, and her face instantly dropped fifty of its almost seventy years. In that minute, Renee caught a glimpse of the young woman Gemma Reinking had been.

  “Goodbye, Mrs. Reinking,” Renee told her, surprised by the strength of the frail woman’s vigorous handshake. “Good luck.”

  “Good luck to you, dear.”

  As soon as Gemma Reinking was out of her office, Renee buzzed her secretary. “Marilyn, get me Lynn Schuster on the phone, please.” She reached into her bottom drawer and pulled out a Mars bar, which she devoured quickly before realizing that she hadn’t really been hungry. Eating had become an unwitting habit, something to do to avoid doing other things. “Like what?” she asked herself, discarding the empty wrapper into the wastepaper basket. Like thinking about your happy marriage, came the immediate reply. Renee quickly reached
into the drawer for a second chocolate bar.

  “Lynn Schuster on line one,” her secretary announced, catching Renee in mid-chew.

  “Lynn, just a second, I’ve got something caught in my throat.” Renee swallowed what remained of the candy bar, then cleared her throat directly into the receiver. “How are you?”

  “Lousy,” she said. “I really screwed up, didn’t I?”

  “You didn’t make things easy. But that’s okay. Easy’s no fun.”

  “Have you spoken to Gary’s lawyer?”

  “We’ve set up a meeting for next Monday at two o’clock. Why don’t you come to my office at one-thirty.” It was a statement, not a request.

  “Do I have to be there?”

  “Oh, I don’t think you’ll want to miss this.” Renee heard Lynn sigh. “Don’t worry, Lynn. I’m in my element. This is a piece of cake.” Renee grimaced, wondering why all her metaphors were food-related.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “You’ll stay well away from Marc Cameron until then?”

  “Yes,” Lynn promised softly.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “I’ll stay away from him.”

  “One more time. I didn’t quite catch it,” Renee prodded.

  “I said I’ll stay away from him,” Lynn said loudly as Renee pushed the phone away from her ear.

  “Good girl. I used to be a cheerleader in high school, you know.”

  “I bet you were terrific.”

  “I was,” Renee said out loud after Lynn had hung up. “I was terrific.” The image of herself in the uniform of her cheerleading days came into her mind. She recalled with a mixture of fondness and dismay the fluffy white sweater and red-and-white pleated short skirt which flew up over her ample bottom when she did cartwheels and jumps. What she had lacked in skill, she had made up for in sheer enthusiasm and her I’m-so-thrilled-to-be-here smile. While she was far from the prettiest girl on the cheerleading team, and had far from the best figure, she was unquestionably the loudest and most persistent. She never missed a practice, never missed a game. She might not have had the greatest legs, but she had the most powerful lungs. And she knew how to use them. Some things never change, she thought.