Under the Influence by Joyce Maynard Page A

trip—heli-skiing in British Columbia.
    Though I had never met Swift’s son, I’d seen pictures of him all around the house and I could tell that he was one of those people (like Swift, but even more so, probably) whom everyone noticed when they came into a room. He was a lot taller than his father, with the build of a rugby player, which it turned out he was. In every photograph he seemed to be laughing.
    I knew from Swift that at the moment Cooper was trying to decide between a career in commercial real estate and the entertainmentindustry—putting together financing for movies, licensing, that kind of thing. He’d do great in the music business, too, Swift had said. Once, on a night out in San Francisco, a sportscaster for the local NBC affiliate had given Cooper his card. “I was watching you at dinner,” he’d told Cooper. “You could have a career in television.”
    â€œI told him a job in television gets you great seats at Giants games,” Swift said. “But the real money’s in business. Once you make it there, you can buy your own season tickets.”
    â€œHe’s one of those people everyone loves the minute they meet him,” Ava said. “Women in particular, of course. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
    â€œThat boy’s going to be a millionaire before he’s thirty,” Swift added. “He’s got that drive. He has success written all over him.”
    â€œLike someone else I know,” said Ava.
    Cooper had a beautiful girlfriend, of course. Virginia. She could be a model, but she was a medical student.
    â€œIf I was in a coma, and this girl bent over the bed, I’d wake up pretty quick,” Swift said of Virginia. “The knockers on her—”
    â€œStop it, darling. You’re terrible,” Ava said. She was always telling him this, but you could tell it was part of their game.
    â€œI’m just being honest,” Swift told her.
    â€œYou’re talking about our future daughter-in-law, sweetheart,” Ava reminded him. “The mother of our grandchildren.”
    Everyone knew—had known for years, evidently—that Cooper and Virginia would end up married. They’d been together since they were sixteen, so seven years now, and they were perfect for each other. They were going to have a marvelous life.
    I asked when he was coming home.
    â€œIt’s always hard pinning Cooper down,” Ava said. “He’s got so many irons in the fire.”
    Swift stepped in then. “Cooper’s been hired for a big internship at an investment firm in New York,” he said. “You know how it is with thesenew account executives. They run them ragged until they’ve made their first ten million dollars.”
    I made no comment. I tended to keep quiet about all the things I didn’t know, and there were many.
    Swift continued, “One of these days when we least expect it, we’ll be sitting out on the patio with the dogs and all of a sudden we’ll hear this big ruckus, and he’ll come bursting into the yard and do a cannonball into the pool or something. Or he’ll pull up in a Maserati he convinced someone to let him take out on a test drive. That’s Cooper for you. The guy moves at Mach speed. With or without a sports car.”
    â€œSometimes I wish he’d slow down a little,” Ava said. I heard a small note of worry in her voice. But then Estella was back with a plate of warm brownies. More wine. The conversation about her daughter and Cooper appeared to be over.
    â€œYou be sure to tell Carmen how proud we are of her,” Ava told her.
    â€œThis Harvard,” Estella asked. “It’s a good school?”

20.
    E very night—before heading to my AA meeting, or if I went to an early meeting, after I got back—I called the house in Walnut Creek to speak with Ollie. When I did, I could almost see my son’s hand