A Woman's Place: A Novel by Barbara Delinsky Page B
Authors: Barbara Delinsky
Tags: Fiction, General, Popular American Fiction, Fiction - General, Contemporary Women, divorce, Businesswomen, Custody of children
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Dennis like wicker? He never said. What he did say was that he always knew where to find me when I was upset. Working with wicker was therapy for me.
It was still true. Wicker Wise brought me pleasure, but refinishing antiques brought me joy. So there was a hidden benefit in situating the headquarters of Wicker Wise in Brody's garage rather than my attic, because that garage was huge, a carriage house actually, large enough for a suite of offices and a workroom--and that workroom was a dream. It had exquisite natural light, state-of the-art air circulation, workbenches, tall stools, storage bins, and plenty of wide-open space. I stole time to work there whenever I could. In recent years, what with Wicker Wise and the children both growing in leaps and bounds, that wasn't often enough.
Still I squirreled treasures away, because Brody's garage had a storage loft, too. I filled it with the pieces I picked up in my travels and refinished them one by one. Sometimes I did it for a client who needed a particular piece. Other times I did it just for me. This was one of those times.
Upon my return from Boston, I dropped my bags at a hotel. I did it quickly, pretended I was on business in a strange city. It was blatant denial, but I knew that if I let myself think about what I was doing--checking into a hotel on my own turf--and why, I would fall apart. I felt safer when I arrived at the office. Angela, our receptionist, who was on the phone when I walked in, waved me a big greeting, pointed to the receiver, and mouthed the name of the sales rep from one of our largest suppliers. I mouthed back a no and hurried into the inner office that Brody and I shared. Within minutes, our secretary, Vicki, poked her head in to say a quick welcome back. Angela had been with us for three years, Vicki for five. Both women were Page 53
Barbara Delinsky - A Woman's Place
in their late twenties, and while neither was a close personal friend, both knew Dennis and the kids.
I didn't say a word about what had happened. Eventually, they would learn about the divorce. If they never learned about the custody order, that was fine by me.
Vicki hung on the door frame for several minutes, asking about my trip, before returning to her computer. With Brody gone to meet with the graphic artist who did our ads, I had the office to myself. Desperate to do something about the mess I was in, I told Angela that I didn't want to be disturbed and dialed Dennis's office. He had a small suite in a luxury building on the far side of town. His secretary answered.
"Hi, Jenny, it's me," I said as I had hundreds of times before. "Is my husband around?"
There was a pause, then a too-fast, "Uh, I'm not sure. Let me see--"
"It's urgent. Please put me through."
Dennis came on. "Yes, Claire."
"We have to talk."
"My lawyer told me not to."
"Mine probably would, too, but this is between you and me. We're adults. We can talk things out. Dennis, I have to see the kids." "No."
"I'm not a danger to them. You know that."
"I'm not talking with you about this."
"But you've made your point," I begged. "I hear you now. You want a separation. Okay."
"I want more than a separation."
"Okay. We can discuss it. You and me. We don't need lawyers or a judge involved."
"They're already involved."
"But we can end it. We can tell them we'll handle it ourselves. We can work this out between us, Dennis. We always have in the past."
"Right."
"I'll listen now. Really I will."
There was a brief silence, then a firm, "I'm hanging up now, Claire. My lawyer is Art Heuber. Have your lawyer call him."
"I'll give you money, if that's what you want. Just don't shut me off from the kids. I love them. They need me." I paused for a breath. No sound came from the other end of the line. "Dennis?" Dead silence. As in disconnected line.
"Dennis?"
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Barbara Delinsky - A Woman's Place
Nothing.
Dismayed, I held the phone in my hand for another minute before replacing it in its
It was still true. Wicker Wise brought me pleasure, but refinishing antiques brought me joy. So there was a hidden benefit in situating the headquarters of Wicker Wise in Brody's garage rather than my attic, because that garage was huge, a carriage house actually, large enough for a suite of offices and a workroom--and that workroom was a dream. It had exquisite natural light, state-of the-art air circulation, workbenches, tall stools, storage bins, and plenty of wide-open space. I stole time to work there whenever I could. In recent years, what with Wicker Wise and the children both growing in leaps and bounds, that wasn't often enough.
Still I squirreled treasures away, because Brody's garage had a storage loft, too. I filled it with the pieces I picked up in my travels and refinished them one by one. Sometimes I did it for a client who needed a particular piece. Other times I did it just for me. This was one of those times.
Upon my return from Boston, I dropped my bags at a hotel. I did it quickly, pretended I was on business in a strange city. It was blatant denial, but I knew that if I let myself think about what I was doing--checking into a hotel on my own turf--and why, I would fall apart. I felt safer when I arrived at the office. Angela, our receptionist, who was on the phone when I walked in, waved me a big greeting, pointed to the receiver, and mouthed the name of the sales rep from one of our largest suppliers. I mouthed back a no and hurried into the inner office that Brody and I shared. Within minutes, our secretary, Vicki, poked her head in to say a quick welcome back. Angela had been with us for three years, Vicki for five. Both women were Page 53
Barbara Delinsky - A Woman's Place
in their late twenties, and while neither was a close personal friend, both knew Dennis and the kids.
I didn't say a word about what had happened. Eventually, they would learn about the divorce. If they never learned about the custody order, that was fine by me.
Vicki hung on the door frame for several minutes, asking about my trip, before returning to her computer. With Brody gone to meet with the graphic artist who did our ads, I had the office to myself. Desperate to do something about the mess I was in, I told Angela that I didn't want to be disturbed and dialed Dennis's office. He had a small suite in a luxury building on the far side of town. His secretary answered.
"Hi, Jenny, it's me," I said as I had hundreds of times before. "Is my husband around?"
There was a pause, then a too-fast, "Uh, I'm not sure. Let me see--"
"It's urgent. Please put me through."
Dennis came on. "Yes, Claire."
"We have to talk."
"My lawyer told me not to."
"Mine probably would, too, but this is between you and me. We're adults. We can talk things out. Dennis, I have to see the kids." "No."
"I'm not a danger to them. You know that."
"I'm not talking with you about this."
"But you've made your point," I begged. "I hear you now. You want a separation. Okay."
"I want more than a separation."
"Okay. We can discuss it. You and me. We don't need lawyers or a judge involved."
"They're already involved."
"But we can end it. We can tell them we'll handle it ourselves. We can work this out between us, Dennis. We always have in the past."
"Right."
"I'll listen now. Really I will."
There was a brief silence, then a firm, "I'm hanging up now, Claire. My lawyer is Art Heuber. Have your lawyer call him."
"I'll give you money, if that's what you want. Just don't shut me off from the kids. I love them. They need me." I paused for a breath. No sound came from the other end of the line. "Dennis?" Dead silence. As in disconnected line.
"Dennis?"
Page 54
Barbara Delinsky - A Woman's Place
Nothing.
Dismayed, I held the phone in my hand for another minute before replacing it in its
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