chapter 28

Julia had managed to avoid Gene Pelham since the knee-grabbing incident, but after receiving a message from his assistant that her presence was requested by her employer in his office on Tuesday morning at nine a.m., there was little she could do to get out of it. She had dressed conservatively, in a dark blue suit with a white blouse and pearls even, more demure than her usual look, but one that she was certain would not emit any sexy vibes that would elicit lascivious moves. As she made her way down the sage-carpeted hallway to the grand corner hallway, she straightened her hair several times and took a deep breath. She was relieved when she opened the door to find not only Mr. Chester Molester, but also Pierre Luques, the chief designer for Pelham’s, pouring over the new catalogue.

“Good, good, you made it,” said Gene, waving Julia into a chair. “You know Pierre,” he added.

“Hello,” nodded Julia, who had only seen the reclusive middle-aged Frenchman from a distance. He was known to be quite the diva, and Julia was often warned to steer clear. Pierre barely acknowledged Julia.

“So, listen, Julia, the reason I asked you here is you’re young, you’re hip, you get it, and we need a new line. I want to work on something really big, and I thought maybe you could give Pierre here some of your ideas.”

Julia was stunned and flattered. She looked over at Pierre, whose beady blue eyes shot daggers at her, and realized she had to be beyond diplomatic in order to finesse this one.

“Well, first off, Mr. Luques, I just want to say that I am such a fan. The reason I came to work at Pelham’s was because I thought your designs were—are—so spectacular.”

“Merci,” nodded Pierre, obviously used to hearing this.

“And what I particularly love is that traditional element. Whereas some of the other jewelry houses have tried to go trendy, I love that Pelham’s has always stuck to their guns and gone with the elegant classics.”

“It’s true, what you say, but the numbers need to count also,” said Gene. “We don’t want to just be your grandmother’s jeweler. We need to bring in the young kids. The Asian tourists with their Vuitton bags and bottomless wallets. The rock stars.”

“Well,” said Julia, hesitating. She didn’t want to piss off Pierre, but she did have what she believed were some good ideas. Should she go for it? Fuck it. “I was at the Met the other day, looking at the Egyptian jewelry—”

“Psshhhhh,” interrupted Pierre with a snort.

Gene shot him a look. “Go on.”

“And I saw some interesting ideas for cuff links and bangles, and I just thought, no one was really doing these sort of Egyptian-inspired King Tut things, and there’s going to be a huge exhibit in the fall on Egypt, and I just thought, maybe if Pelham’s sponsored some event and we did a tie-in and had like a benefit at the Temple of Dendur—”

“I’m loving it,” nodded Gene.

Pierre sat quietly seething.

“It’s just a thought.”

“And a good one. Can you sketch?”

“A little bit,” said Julia sheepishly.

“This gal can do everything!” said Gene. “Well, get over to the Met, get some info, sketches, catalogues, whatever you need, and bring it in. We’ll meet back tomorrow with Pierre. Same time.”

At five o’clock that afternoon Julia finally made her way out to the grand steps of the Met that spilled onto Fifth Avenue. Her head was spinning and her eyes were sore and she realized that she had not done that much research since college. But it was fun, and exhilarating. Starved from skipping lunch, she walked over to the street vendor and purchased a Coke and a soft pretzel, then sat down wearily on the bottom step to watch the crowds of tourists filter by. As she gobbled down her pretzel—she could only imagine Polly’s face if she told her she ate something off the street, carbs no less—she stared at the Stanhope Hotel, which proudly stood directly across Fifth Avenue.

“Mommy! I want a pretzel!”

Julia saw that a small boy was standing next to her, pointing longingly at her doughy salted ring. “Oh, hello,” she said.

“Oh, hi Julia!” Hope stood over Julia, scooping up her stray son in her arms. “Sorry about that! Come here, sweetness.”

“No problem. Hi there, cutie,” Julia said, patting his little brown mop of hair.

“Can you say, ‘Hello, Ms. Pearce’?”

Gavin dutifully took her hand and shook it like a tiny gentleman.

“Hello, Mrs. Pearce. Pleased to meet you.” Just watching him made his mommy warm with pride and love.

“Pleased to meet you,” Julia said, crushed by his adorableness. “Look at these great curls.”

“Ugh, I need to get him into Cozy’s for a cut. Don’t we, Gav?”

“No, it’s cute! He looks like a Gerber baby. And by that I mean Rande Gerber and Cindy Crawford.”

“Totally,” Hope laughed. “Maybe we have time to run there now and get a chop? I hate to be inside any longer, though. God, isn’t this a gorgeous day?”

“Amazing. I’ve spent most of it in the museum, myself. Design research.”

“Oh, cool. We were just looking at the Greek vases for Gavin’s arts-and-crafts project.”

“Wow. Big stuff for a little guy.”

“Don’t get me started. His school literally studied the solar system at age two.”

“Mom! I want a pretzel!”

“Sweetiekins—”

“You can have a piece,” Julia said, breaking off a chunk. “Want some?”

“Yeah!” Gavin said, grabbing it with glee.

“Thank you. Sorry,” Hope said, shaking her head and sitting down next to Julia on the steps. “So how is work going?”

“Good, I guess . . .” She felt comfortable with Hope and wanted to be more open, but she was one of Lell’s best friends. “Lell’s given me such a great opportunity. I just . . . sometimes miss the slower pace. But I shouldn’t complain. This is huge step up for me.”

“Well they’re lucky to have you. And trust me, you don’t want too slow a pace. I feel like I’ve accomplished nothing today. Just now, I was the only non-nanny when I picked Gav up at school and I thought, ‘Should I be working? If so, what would I do?’ ” She shook her head and laughed. “Maybe I should start a handbag line or ribbon belt company like other moms.”

“You seem like the best mother,” said Julia, watching Gavin sitting beside her. “And that means a lot. I bet those nannies work for moms who aren’t even doing anything more than facials and stuff,” she comforted.

“I guess,” said Hope. She really liked Julia. She seemed sweet and definitely had more depth than her pals cared to notice.

“Well we should start meandering home, bunny rabbit,” Hope said, picking up Gavin. “Good luck with the designs! I am sure they’ll be terrific.”

“Thanks, Hope,” Julia said, waving. Hope seemed like the true gem of the pristine posse. As she watched Hope stroke her son’s hair and walk off holding his little hand, she wondered if she’d ever be so lucky to find a great husband and have babies.

Julia started off into space again, thinking about her future while watching a red double-decker tourist bus drive by with binocular-toting Montanans. She’d become so used to New York that she couldn’t remember what it felt like to be a visitor, staying in some hotel and trying to make her way through the busy streets.

Suddenly, something across the street caught Julia’s eye. It was the arm of a familiar camel hair coat outside the Stanhope. Looking more closely, she realized it belonged to Lell. Julia rose to yell across the street, but stopped. Taking that arm was a familiar hand. And it was not Lell’s husband’s hand, but her lover’s, Alastair’s. Julia stood in shock, her mouth agape, as she watched the two laughing paramours enter the hotel, nuzzling. Yikes. A hotel tryst was major. How could Lell do that to Will? Maybe Julia was naïve but she really thought that “’til death do us part” meant something. And they were still newlyweds! It was sick.

Julia walked over to the garbage can and threw out her soda. She dusted the pretzel crumbs off her coat and turned to head down Fifth Avenue. Standing right in front of her was Will. He stared at her with a sad look in his eyes, and she knew he had seen his wife in the arms of another man. Julia was speechless. Before she could muster up anything to say, Will grabbed Julia by the arm and hailed a taxi. A yellow cab slowed and before she could even think about how to react, Will pushed her in.

“Where do you live?” Will asked urgently, turning to Julia.

“Seventh Street and Second,” she told the driver.

Then Will grabbed Julia and pressed his lips to hers, slowly pushing her down so that her head lay on the ripped leather seat. As the taxi glided down Fifth Avenue, Will and Julia kissed passionately, forgetting everything and everyone else in the great big city.