When We Were Sisters: An unputdownable book club read about that bonds that can bind or break a family. Emilie Richards
“I might. I have a niece who loves pretty shells.”
“You have a niece?” I wondered why he had never mentioned her before.
“I’ll tell you all about Jenny, unless you think it will destroy my mystique.”
I got to my feet. “You have no mystique, and it’s a deal. Besides if we take a walk, I can have another muffin.”
“Let’s walk far enough for two.”
That was almost too much pleasure to imagine. “You’ve got a deal.”
Kris
When I was a teenager and wanted to sneak out of the house on a school night to be with my friends, I tiptoed shoeless to our creaky front door. Then I waited for some blast of neighborhood noise, a car passing with its stereo blaring, sirens or a truck rumbling along the main street a block away. The moment I had cover I opened the door just enough to squeeze through and stepped out to the porch, where I pulled on my shoes before I headed down the street.
I was seventeen the first and last time I was caught. I returned from a night out to find my father in the living room reading a month-old issue of Lidové Noviny, “the People’s Newspaper,” sent by a friend from the country that was still called Czechoslovakia, although not for much longer.
My parents came to the United States during the Prague Spring, when the Soviets marched into Czechoslovakia and stamped out budding reforms. My father, Gustav—Gus—was a leader in the artists’ community, and his paintings were political in nature, which meant he was in danger. He, my mother, Ida, and sister, Lucie, escaped and eventually made their way to Cleveland, Ohio, where I was born.
On this night he looked up from that nostalgic taste of the country he had been forced to leave and pulled his glasses to the tip of his nose to see me more clearly. “You won’t do this again, Kristoff, correct?”
I remember considering. Sneaking out was one thing, but lying to my parents another.
“I would not like to buy a padlock for our door,” he said, while the moral implications were still racing through my mind. “In case of fire, that could be troublesome.”
I made my case. “I work hard at school, Táta. I’m on the forensics team and the editor of the yearbook. I’ll probably get a college scholarship that pays all my expenses.” To my credit I didn’t add the obvious, that a scholarship was the only way I would get a higher education.
“All this is true,” my father said in his lightly accented English. Unlike my mother he had studied the language before fleeing the country of his birth. Her English came after intensive study here, and Maminka still speaks Czech at home and anywhere else it’s understood.
“I need to have a little fun,” I whined.
“In a car coming home with other boys who have had too much to drink?”
“I walked home.”
He nodded. I remember thinking I was gazing into a mirror or a time machine, because someday I would look much the same. Except for straighter hair and darker eyes I strongly resemble Gustav Lenhart.
“Fun is good,” he said. “We need fun. I am too serious. I know this. I take life too serious. I take myself too serious. I am afraid sometimes I have passed this on to my children.”
“Let tonight be proof you haven’t.”
He laughed. He continued as he preceded me up the stairs. My father has a deep rumbling laugh, and despite taking the world seriously, he still laughs frequently.
He wasn’t laughing a few minutes ago when I hung up from our transatlantic telephone call.
This afternoon as I prepared to leave our suite of offices I didn’t have my shoes in my hand, but I might as well have. I was making a concerted effort not to alert anybody I was leaving before six. Robin had scheduled two housekeeper applicants to interview before dinner. She’d asked me to try to get home to meet them so I could tell her my preference. She’s already done all the footwork, checked references, conducted initial interviews.
Frankly I couldn’t care less whom she chooses. I don’t want any stranger in my house. At the same time I want her to see I’m involved in decisions about our family. Robin has exaggerated my lack of involvement, built it up until it’s now an insurmountable wall between us. Not that she doesn’t have anything to go on. I work long hours, and the nature of my job means I’m at the mercy of our senior partners and clients. Nobody gets ahead at a law firm by saying no, so I can’t always be counted on to arrive home when she wants me to.
The flip side is that in the long run, all this work will be worth it. I made partner at thirty-three, and my star is rising due to hard work and good decisions, but being a partner doesn’t mean my job’s secure. Until I move up to the next level, I’m really just a glorified associate, only I’m paid more. The minute the firm believes I’m letting them down, my rising star becomes a meteor crashing to earth.
I had almost made it down the plushly carpeted hallway to the door leading outside to the elevator when Larry Buffman saw me.
I waited as he approached. He spoke when he was still a few yards away. “I was just on my way to your office, Kris.”
Buff is a nice guy, the senior partner I most often work with. He’s pushing sixty but still filled with energy and savvy. He’s also on his third wife, but not of the trophy variety. Lee was his high school sweetheart, and they found each other again at their thirtieth college reunion. His first wife died too young. His next marriage was short-lived and pure rebound. This one seems solid and happy.
Buff understands about marriage, but he’s never let that stop him from staying late. And he’s never let my marriage influence him to give me a pass, either.
He glanced at his watch. “Mervin Pedersen wants a conference call in fifteen minutes. For the record, he says he likes you and wants you in court, so he wants you on the call. I told him that was our plan all along.”
Hearts don’t sink. It’s physically impossible. On the other hand, they sometimes feel as if they do. Witness mine.
I nodded as if I was happy at this news. “So he’s determined to go ahead with suing the FDA?”
“He’s decided to let us handle whatever we decide together. This could be worth a lot of money to the firm, and I plan to let you bill for a majority of the hours. That should provide the boost you need.”
I knew what boost Buff was talking about. The next step in my career is a promotion to equity partner, where I’ll share in the firm’s profits, resulting in a significant increase in compensation, as well as attain a new level of job security. I’m young for this, and to get there I have to prove once and for all that I can bring major income into the firm and have every intention of continuing to do so until I drop dead at my desk.
Buff tilted his balding head. “Were you heading somewhere?”
“Robin wanted me to come home and help pick a new housekeeper, but we both know she’ll pick the one she likes best anyway.”
“Wise man. She’ll understand if you stay later?”
I nodded. She would understand. She wouldn’t agree, but she would understand what was behind my choice. I’d told her often enough, especially lately.
Buff was nodding along with me, and we probably looked like a couple of bobblehead dolls. “When I had to work late as a young man I had a system. I added up the hours when I should have been home with Nan, my first wife, multiplied by ten and sent flowers worth that much. Or sometimes I took her to 1789 in Georgetown when the figure got high enough. If I tried that with Lee she would divorce me. She can’t be bribed or cajoled.”
Lee Buffman has a lot in common with my wife.
“Robin’s