Day 235 and Day 236
Imagine a story about an affair that disrupts the life of a married couple.
…
I put the phone down and leaned back in the chair.
It was not what I expected, and then it was. I just didn’t think I’d get to hear about it.
And it was nothing I did that precipitated the call. That came from someone else, a person I was not pleased with. Saying they would do something after I said I didn’t care showed poor judgment.
I could understand why they did, and in other circumstances, I would probably not feel as bad, but their actions had forced my hand.
“Sir?”
James, the butler who had served my father, then me, the very soul of discretion, looked over from the sideboard.
The question, in not so many words, was whether I wanted a drink, not whether I needed one. The truth was, I needed one.
A nod in his direction, he put ice in a crystal glass and poured a small quantity of Scotch into it. He placed it on a tray and brought it over.
“Thank you, James. That will be all.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, sir.”
Silence reigned after the door closed for a few minutes before my cell phone, sitting on the armrest of the chair, buzzed.
I looked at the screen. “Cecily.”
My sister was calling. Why? Our business was concluded the week before, and she had promised not to call me unless it was absolutely necessary. She wanted to run the company her way, and I was happy for her to do so.
I shrugged and answered it.
“Yes, Cecily?”
“I just had a strange call from Jack Burroughs.”
Jack Burroughs was the Chief Financial Officer. He moved in strange, or what I called strange, circles. He was also just a little strange himself, but work-related, he was a genius.
“He is strange, Cecily.”
“He told me he saw Margaret in a …” and then didn’t, or couldn’t bring herself to use the words.
I didn’t think she knew that Burroughs was gay simply because he didn’t identify as one.
“He saw her at Moreno’s.” Moreno’s was an obscure bar that celebrities sometimes went to so they would not make the media headlines. When I didn’t answer immediately, she took a deep breath, then said, “You know?”
“I got a call from someone else.”
“What is she doing there?”
“What do you think she is doing there?”
Silence as she grappled with the ramifications.
“So, you knew that she was…?”
“I suspected. She told me before we married that she had been in a relationship with a girl, and it wasn’t who she thought she was. Seems it’s not the case, and they’re back together.”
“What are you going to do?”
“It’s done. I’m no longer part of the company or anything. There’s the prenuptial you insisted on, so no one is walking away from this with anything. It hasn’t been much of a relationship for nearly six months now, so I’m going to break the news that there’s no more money and we’re moving to the log cabin, courtesy of your generosity.”
“Oh. Make me the bad guy.”
“You’ll make such a good one. Don’t worry yourself. I’m disappointed, but it’s not unexpected. And I’ll get over it. I am going to the log cabin, by the way, in the next few days.”
“OK. Call me if you need anything.”
She took it better than I thought she would.
…
I waited.
I thought about watching a movie or reading a book, but in the end, I decided to do some reading of a different sort. I had been sent a prospectus and background paper on a new concept car, one that wasn’t going to destroy the world.
By the time I got through to the end, three hundred pages of technical details that I would have to pass to the research department, I heard the front door open and close.
Frances had returned.
I looked at the clock, and it was 3:13 in the morning.
I heard her take that first step up the staircase to the room, then stopped. Perhaps she had seen the light under the door in the sitting room.
A moment later, she appeared in the doorway. She still had that ability to make my heart miss a beat every time I saw her.
I wondered then I’d she ever really loved me.
“You’re up late.”
“Reading, lost track of time.”
“Oh.” She came in and sat opposite me, slightly askew on the chair. She never really sat properly in the chair or any chair.
“Did you have a good night?”
She had said she was going out with some of her old friends from school days, and technically, she was not lying.
“I did.” She gave me a curious look. “Eloise was there.”
Eloise was the previous girlfriend. I had our legal department check up on her, and she was one of those people whose private life was private. She wasn’t married, had male friends, but was financially independent.
I never understood why she had picked Margaret as her lover, but I freely admit I didn’t know much about love.
“You did say they were your old friends. Was she happy to see you?”
Again, another curious look, though this time, is more wary.
She sighed. “How long have you known?”
“Long enough. And before you say anything, I’m not surprised. I haven’t really been there for you of late. I’m sorry.”
“Who told you?”
“Would you believe me?”
“Eloise.”
“She said you were unhappy when you ran into each other. It just grew from there. She said she had never stopped loving you. I can see why.”
“She asked me to come back.”
“And?”
“I am married to you. You are my husband, and people have expectations. You might have expectations.”
I shrugged. “Maybe once upon a time, but now? I’m no longer working for the company or any part of it. Everything I had, the company owned. If you so desire, you can leave without regret. There’s nothing more for you to do.”
“You’ll still be that many about town.”
“No. You’ll find that once people discover you have nothing, no job, no wealth, no status, they simply stop calling and stop inviting. Cecily had offered me the use of a log cabin my father used to go to when he needed a few days away. Montana or Wyoming or some such place.”
“Are you alright? I mean, the company and everything. It’s your life.”
“Not any more. It’s Cecily’s now. Everything.”
“When?”
“About two months ago. When I realised that whatever we had was over. Like I said, I don’t blame you. I did to you what my father did to my mother. Things are a little different in my case. You found someone else to fill that void. My mother simply killed herself.”
It had been preventable, and I had blamed my father for it. It culminated in the argument that killed him. Yelling at me, he had a heart attack and dropped dead in front of me. I hadn’t recovered from that, but bounced into this relationship, then married, and some could say it was doomed from the start.
“I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. I was trying to get past it, but instead of sharing, I just threw myself into the job. There was no need to burden yourself with my problems.”
She shook her head. “That was silly. I made the commitment and would have helped in any way I could. It might have brought us closer together.”
“Or pushed you away. You can not change who you are, Frances. It will always be there, and if you have to fight it, it will eventually be a fight you will lose. I don’t want that for you.”
“But what about you?”
“I’m fine. I’ll get to read the classic, sit by a light fire, catch and eat food that is fresh, not supermarket fresh. The fresh mountain air, well, that might kill me or cure me.”
She sat, the conversation seemingly over, adjusting her dress and then readjusting it as if something was not quite right. I knew she preferred tank tops, short skirts, and jeans to the expensive clothes she believed she had to wear.
“I can stay, if you like. Go up to the cabin, wherever it is. Are there bears and snakes?”
“Probably. You don’t have to, but you can’t stay here. You can take what’s yours, though, but it will have to be before the end of the week.”
She gave me a steely look. “Then it’s over, we’re over?”
“Yes. You should have told me, Frances. I deserved at least that much.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
There was another knock on the door. For the hour of the morning, it was quite busy.
James came out to open it, then ushered the visitor in. Eloise.
I saw Frances glance at her and mouth the words, “Why are you here?”
“I’ve come to take Frances home.” She said it in a tone that suggested she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I looked at her. “I have no objection if that’s what you think. Frances has always been free to decide what she wants to do. I only asked if she was intending to get into trouble, that she be discreet.”
“It has always been so
“Until you went to Moreno’s, which was a calculated move on your part. Whatever your reasons, it was wasted effort. I have nothing, I own nothing, nor does Frances.”
“It was not about the money,” Frances said, looking at Eloise, and her expression was priceless. “Was it?”
Eloise looked at me. “You’re in the top one hundred richest men in the country. You can’t tell me that just disappeared overnight.”
“No, you’re right, it didn’t. That happened last week when I signed the final documents to give it all to my sister Cecily. I had reached the end of my association, and the company rules state that I could only be in charge for five years, at the end of which I have to walk away. I didn’t have to forgo my personal wealth during the process, but having it all wasn’t the same as having everything. Frances, according to her agreement, will be equally as penniless the moment she walks out of this apartment. She now owns as much as I do. Nothing. I truly hope you were not asking her to come back because she was about to become a billionaire.”
Judging by the expression on Eloise’s face, I think that was exactly what she believed.
Eloise swivelled on Frances. “Is this true?”
“Why does it matter?”
“You are entitled to half of everything he had, prenuptial or not. Even your lawyers would…”
And there she stopped, perhaps realising what she had said and done, because Frances was greatly surprised, and her expression, to me, didn’t augur well for their relationship lasting.
Her tone was soft, and there was a slight tremor in her voice. Perhaps now the full realisation of Eloise’s intent was clear, “Even if I didn’t divorce him, there was never any money. There never was because I never needed it. I had nice things, but they were never mine, and I have no claim on them, nor would I want to. I told you a while back that I’ve had enough of the high life. Now I think I would prefer to embrace the country air in Wyoming.”
Perhaps Eloise, too, was beginning to see what the reality of the situation was. I got the impression Frances had tried to tell her, and she wouldn’t listen.
“I thought…” Eloise began.
“She was about to become mega-rich?” I finished the sentence for her. “No.”
I could see the expression on Frances’ face change from surprise, to shock, to something bordering on anger, if not rage. And come to the same conclusion about the same time I did.
“You didn’t just run into me, did you?” Frances said, so quietly I almost missed it.
“You’re a silly girl who will never have anything. Not unless you stand up for yourself. I’ll show myself out.”
We both watched her leave.
…
© Charles Heath 2025
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 