“Not for him,” and then she felt instantly guilty for what she'd said. “I shouldn't say that. He's just used to running things at the office, and he expects to do the same at home.”

“Listen, I would like to be King of California, or maybe even President of the United States, if it weren't such a rotten job, but that's not likely to happen, in either case. We'd all like to run the world if we had the chance. But we can't just run each other. What kind of life are you going to have if you don't do this? What are you going to do for the next forty years? Stay home and watch TV?”

“I think that's what he has in mind.” She sounded discouraged, she knew Brad was right. But he didn't know Alex. He would make her life miserable if she didn't do what he said. He always did.

“He can't do that to you. You can't let him. And I won't let you. I think I came to Charlie's funeral for a reason. I think Jack sent me to you to kick your ass.”

“Now there's an appealing prospect,” she said, laughing. “Maybe you're right.”

“What would Jack say if you told him about this?” Brad asked. It was an interesting question, and he knew the answer before she said the words.

“He'd be mad as hell. He hated Alex. And Alex didn't think much of him. They were always at each other's throats.”

“For good reason, if this is what Alex did to you when Jack was alive. You didn't answer my question. What would Jack say?” He wanted her to think about it. He knew her brother would hold more sway than he.

“He'd tell me the same thing you did. Go to school.”

“I rest my case.”

“You don't have to live with Alex.”

“Maybe neither should you. If he can't behave like a civilized, decent human being, he doesn't deserve you. And I think Jack would have said that too.”

“Probably. But look at who he lived with. Debbie made Alex look easy to live with. She was a lot more unreasonable than he.”

“Look, all I want is for you to be happy. You didn't look happy to me when I saw you. You look bored and sad, and lonely. If this is what you want, go for it. More than anything, you need a dream. We all do. This is mine out here. I've never been happier in my life than since I opened this office.” The only trouble was he still had to go home at night, but he didn't say that to Faith. If he could have slept at the office, to avoid Pam, he would. Things had reached an almost intolerable level of late. He and Pam were what the English called “chalk and cheese.” It was not a good combination, but his parents had had an ugly divorce when he was in his teens, and he did not want to do the same thing. So he had made his peace with his differences with Pam. It was Pam who was nipping at his heels these days, complaining about everything he did, and arguing with him about the fact that he was never at home. And she was right. He didn't want to be. But he had no intention of leaving her, and knew he never would. It was simpler this way.

“Do I look as bad as that?” Faith sounded distressed. “I'm not that unhappy, Brad. We just have differences about some things.”

“And he's never there. You said so yourself. He didn't even come to Charlie's funeral with you. What's that all about?” He knew more than anyone about marital stress.

“I told you, he had to be in Chicago. He had meetings at Unipam.”

“So what? They could have waited a day. Charlie was only going to get buried once. You could have used the support.”

“It was okay … and you were there.”

“I'm glad I was. And listen, I can't criticize your marriage. My own is nothing to brag about either. All I'm saying is that if he's not there for you a lot of the time, he owes you one. He can't have it both ways. He can't do his own thing most of the time, and still expect you to sit home waiting for him. If he has a life, then you should have one too.”

“He doesn't see it that way.” She sounded discouraged.

“He will, if you refuse to give in. I promise. You have to stick up for yourself.”

“It's not that easy,” she said sadly. Alex had a will of iron, and he was going to torture her till she gave up, just as he had before.

“I know it's hard, Fred. But it's worthwhile. You have no choice. If you don't stick to your guns on this, your life will be miserable, and then you will feel old, and depressed. I think your mental health and well-being are at stake.”

“You make it sound like life and death,” she smiled as she sat in her small study and thought of him. He was a terrific friend.

“In some ways it is. I want you to really think about it.”

“I will.” What he had said to her made sense, she just didn't know how she was going to convince Alex. But maybe Brad was right, maybe with enough energy and conviction, she could. It was worth a try at least. “How's everything with you?”

“Busy. Crazy. I've got half a dozen new cases, big ones. We're up to our ears in shit.”

“Lucky you. It sounds like fun,” she said enviously.

“It is.” They chatted for a few more minutes, and then he had to get off, but he promised to e-mail her or call her soon, and she knew he would. He had been so amazingly helpful in these last two weeks. He had given her focus and perspective and strength, as well as love and support. It was an unbeatable combination and she was grateful to him. And more than that, he had strengthened her resolve to tackle Alex—and win.





4


WHEN ALEX CAME HOME FROM MIAMI, HE WAS IN A dreadful mood. Faith knew enough not to question him about it. Obviously, the meetings had not gone well. She cooked dinner for him in silence, and as soon as he finished his last mouthful, he got up, went upstairs, showered, and went to bed. He hadn't said a single word to her while they ate. And it was only the next morning at breakfast that he asked her how she was.

“Fine,” she said, pouring him a cup of coffee. She had made him oatmeal, berries, and muffins, and he seemed in a slightly better mood. “Tough trip?” He nodded, but did not volunteer any details. He was like that. When things didn't go the way he wanted, he never had much to say. And if they were going well, she could see it by his demeanor, but he kept the news to himself.

“I talked to Eloise in London,” Faith offered, as he read The Wall Street Journal. He didn't seem to hear what she said, and it was a full five minutes later when he spoke from behind the paper.

“How was she?”

“Fine.” Faith was used to his style, and knew what he was asking. “She's coming home for Thanksgiving, for the long weekend.”

“Good.” He put the paper down then, and stood up, as he glanced first at his watch, and then at his wife. “I don't have time to discuss it with you now, Faith. But I wanted to let you know that I've given a lot of thought to what we discussed.”

“About what?”

“Your pipe dream about law school. I want you to know now, clearly, that I will not agree. You'll have to find something else to do.” He didn't wait for her to comment but turned on his heel and walked out of the room. And the way he did it instantly infuriated her. In the past, she would have been crushed. But this time, for some reason, she was outraged, and she followed after him into the hall. He was putting on his raincoat, it was pouring outside.

“You can't just dismiss me like that, Alex. And it's not a pipe dream. It's a reasonable thing I want to do. I'm willing to put the work into it, and to make it work for us too.”

He looked at her with an icy stare that had quelled her for years. “I'm not. I'm not going to live with a full-time student, and all the stress and nonsense that entails. You're my wife, Faith. You have an obligation to hold up your end of the deal.”

“So do you,” she shot back. “This isn't fair. Why can't you respect me as a person, and realize that I need something in my life, something intelligent to do, now that the girls are gone?”

“See a psychiatrist if you're having trouble adjusting to the girls leaving home. Don't go off half-cocked trying to recapture your youth. The truth is you can't.”

“You act like I'm a hundred years old. I'm not.”

“I'm well aware of your age, Faith. You're not a kid, don't act like one. You're not a child. This whole project is childish and immature. Act like an adult. Your daughters are gone. You're married. You have responsibilities to me. You can't fulfill them if you're in school.” It was all about him. It always was.

“What are you worried about? That I can't handle an occasional dinner party because I'm in school? I'm not going to the moon for heaven's sake. I'll be here. I told you, I can make it work.” She sounded desperate and was near tears. He had never before been quite as unreasonable as this. But she had never challenged him to this extent.

“You have no idea what you're talking about, Faith. Law school is all-consuming. You won't have time for anything else. And I have a voice in that.”

“Don't I?” she asked, as tears burned her eyes.

“Not in this case. That's the end of it, as far as I'm concerned. Find something else to do.” And with that, before she could say another word, he opened the front door and stepped out into the rain, as Faith stood staring at him. The Iceman. Zoe was right.

Alex closed the door firmly behind him, and Faith went back to the cozy wood-paneled kitchen and sat down. Their breakfast dishes were still on the table, and all she could do was cry. Great, long, wracking sobs. She felt as though she had been put in jail. He acted as though he owned her, as though what she felt and wanted were of absolutely no consequence to him. She had never felt as powerless in her life. And she was still crying when she finally stood up and put the dishes in the dishwasher, and went upstairs to their room.