The Family Man Part 8

"'Can't wait to see you again. L.D.'"

"Anything about the parties getting together?"

"That's why I called: Are you free to take a secret meeting after work today?"

"Secret, but with counsel?"

"Definitely with counsel. Counsel required, in fact: Waldorf-Astoria, six o'clock. Leif's arriving via some underground entrance they use for presidents. The unknowns can walk through the front door. We're supposed to pick up an envelope at the concierge desk that will tell us what room to go to. Very Amazing Race"

Henry doesn't watch The Amazing Race but scribbles the words on a scratch pad.

Thalia asks if he could swing by the salon and they'd walk over together to discuss strategy. Giovanni is promising a quick blow-dry beforehand, so time is a little tight. Five forty-five?

Henry asks, "Does he know?"

Thalia says, "Not yet. I won't give my notice till I sign the contract."

Henry considers saying, "I inferred from Giovanni that you two have a relationship outside the salon" but then doesn't have to. Thalia says, "I hope you don't believe everything your beautician brags about."

Her hair is glossier and more asymmetric than usual, with new layers in new places. "Very nice," Henry says. "And very stylish, I'm sure." Her jacket, powder blue and pink plaid with golf-ball-sized b.u.t.tons, can have come from only one source. Several bracelets fill the s.p.a.ce between cuff and wrist. He says, "I think I'm getting an idea of what your look is. I think my mother used to wear gloves with that length sleeve."

She says, "I was so right: Nothing beats a gay father."

They are heading east on 57th, her arm hooked through his. "What remains to be discussed?" he asks.

"Numero uno, no s.e.x. Mr. Munster and I can be seen holding hands and kissing, but that's only for public consumption."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Even if they say blah blah blah, there're so many shades of gray, and what if his hand slips and should cup a b.u.t.tock when you're dancing? You'll explain that I'd be a paid escort if there are any s.e.x acts involved, right?"

"Happy to."

"The monthly stipends should be in cash, don't you think? If it's by check, won't some bank employee know I'm being paid by Leif?"

"I'm sure they'll launder it. Unless they're incompetent, it wouldn't be from Leif's account or from his publicist's."

"And I absolutely have to tell Arielle and Amanda about the deal-can we ask for a couple of relatively discreet best-friend leaks, because I can't just get engaged overnight to someone I've never mentioned. They'll sign confidentiality agreements, too. In fact, I think they'd love that."

Henry asks, "Which does beg the question: Will the public buy it? Won't it appear awfully precipitous?"

Thalia says in mock dismay, "Henry, I think you're forgetting that I met Leif through Sally years ago and we've been seeing each other secretly for months. She had us both to dinner, a small group at her apartment on Jane Street, at which she served spaghetti with puttanesca sauce and three tropical flavors of gelato. Ages ago, as you may recall. So you see, it's been quite a long romance."

A stern female voice answers their knock with, "Door's open." Henry puts a hand on Thalia's forearm and whispers, "No. We're not room service. Let them get off their a.s.ses."

The same voice, more annoyed now, calls, "Who is it?"

Henry says, "Miss Krouch and her lawyer. We can come back if you're indisposed."

Footsteps approach. The door opens to reveal a woman in, Henry guesses, her last trimester of pregnancy, attired nonetheless in a three-piece black pinstriped suit. "We're all here now," she says as her eyes surveil the hallway.

Thalia and Henry enter the suite's living room, an old-fashioned affair in shades of gold and yam. The fringed drapes are drawn. A second, younger woman, dressed in a short leather skirt and denim jacket, is seated on a sofa, her yellow hair spiked and her eyegla.s.ses a leopard print. On the coffee table in front of her are legal folders and a bowl of red grapes. The two women stare at their visitors for a few seconds past necessary. Thalia approaches both and shakes their hands in the manner of someone who must take introductions upon herself in the face of lapsed etiquette. "This is my lawyer," she adds. "Henry Archer."

"Attorney Michele Schneider," says the pregnant one.

"I'm Mr. Dumont's publicist," says the blond. "Wendy Morelli. New York office of Estime."

"Is Leif joining us?" asks Thalia.

A toilet flushes-once, twice. Water runs. Wendy says, "He's a little under the weather. He had vindaloo last night."

Leif emerges from the bedroom dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt bearing his production company's logo, a mummy behind a movie camera. Most startlingly: He has shaved his head and pierced both earlobes, now displaying blueberry-sized diamonds. He says, "I'd shake your hand, but I don't know if I have a bug or if it's what I ate last night."

His lawyer asks, "Shall we get started?"

The mission, she summarizes, is this: Candidate will be seen publicly and socially with Leif. Their engagement will be announced six weeks from first tabloid-print or electronic-coverage and/or tersely acknowledged after engagement ring is sighted on the future Mrs. Dumont's hand. At a point to be determined, but not before the romance has sp.a.w.ned a sufficient number of news items, photographs, blind items, et cetera, and Estime is satisfied that his profile has been measurably enhanced, Mr. Dumont will break the engagement when a higher-profile Hollywood actress to be named later comes between them. From the outset, the candidate will neither confirm nor deny the status of the relationship verbally- "Why not?" asks Henry.

"We've had some disasters with that," says the publicist.

"Acting talent aside, not everyone can think on her feet," adds Attorney Schneider.

Henry says, "I have to be honest: I'm not greatly in favor of this arrangement. I don't see how it advances my client's career."

"This is a gig," says the publicist. "This is not a career. The job description is, 'Be pretty, be arm candy for Leif, and don't sound stupid. Act like you're in love and he'll do his best to reciprocate in a way that repackages him as a desirable and attractive actor.' I think you fully understand that there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of women in Manhattan alone who would gladly fill the role."

Henry doesn't speak but directs his gaze to the unappetizing groom, who has folded himself into a club chair, barefoot.

"For the sake of argument, what would make the mission more attractive to your client?" asks the lawyer.

Thalia is helping herself to grapes, eyebrows signaling, I can't wait to hear this. Henry declares, "We want-in the notoriety sense-a piece of the action. It's reasonable to expect that your team has contacts with studios and that Thalia will come away with a very good role in a major feature film."

The lawyer says, "I don't even have to caucus on this one. The answer is no. We are not casting directors. I'm an attorney. She's a publicist. We can't possibly commit to that."

Henry says calmly, "Our goal is to raise Thalia's profile. She's a lame duck from the outset. We are asking that your firm represent Thalia when Leif breaks the engagement."

The publicist says, "I can't authorize anything like that. I have to talk to Dorian."

"Who is...?"

"Our CEO."

"Estime is not a charitable inst.i.tution," says the lawyer. "They don't do pro-bono work."

Henry says, "I'm sure Estime will want Thalia Archer on its client list after this plays out triumphantly in the tabloids." He nods to Thalia, Follow me, then tells Leif's people they can have their privacy. He and his client will talk outside.

From a safe distance at the end of the carpeted hallway, Thalia says, "Nice work in there. Very creative. Very ... lawyerly. But I'd rather the deal didn't fall apart."

"It won't. Leif is in there saying to Wendy, 'Look, I've got you on retainer. I'm paying you a fortune. You'll make some phone calls for her when it's over, and put out a few press releases.' They want you and he wants you and you should relax."

Thalia says, "Okay. If you're sure."

"Quite sure. I saw him staring at you. And worst-case scenario: We take what's on the table."

Thalia finally smiles. "Love the bold, spontaneous Henry. Truly-it's like improv, and someone's yelled out 'ball-buster lawyer!'"

They walk back to the suite and knock. Leif himself answers, looking a little worried. Henry suspects he's been instructed to give nothing away. Henry and Thalia take their seats and stare at the opposing team.

The lawyer says, "We were able to reach Dorian." She frowns, waits.

"And?" says Henry.

"As you can imagine, she wasn't happy. She said, 'Let's open up the search. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for the right person.'"

Henry casts another appraising look at Leif, who is hunched against a wall and gnawing on an energy bar.

"I'm sure Dorian is right and you'd have a line out the door as if this were an actual casting call," Henry says.

"Leif?" says Thalia. "Do you want to jump in?"

Leif chews, swallows, and checks with the lawyer, who signals, Permission granted.

"I didn't speak to Dorian myself. They didn't put her on speakerphone in case you could hear out in the hall."

"But?"

"I told them that it didn't seem like such a big deal-"

"No need to rehash the entire conversation," interrupts the lawyer. "And of course there's the matter of client confidentiality."

Henry says, "Which I don't believe applies when it's the client himself speaking."

The lawyer nods to the publicist. "Eventually, after several phone calls back and forth, Dorian agreed that we'd be willing to help keep Thalia in the news."

"Meaning?" asks Henry.

The publicist snaps, "That's like asking for our trade secrets. She'll be our client. We'll do what it takes for a six-month period, post-Leif."

"Two years," says Henry.

The publicist, then the lawyer, and belatedly Leif excuse themselves to caucus in the bedroom.

Henry whispers, "It's all for effect. They know exactly what we want." He holds up an index finger and mouths one.

Thalia unb.u.t.tons her jacket. Underneath is something pink and lacy that Henry trusts isn't an undergarment. The Leif team reappears and takes its seats. "We reached Dorian," says the lawyer. "Our last best offer is, accordingly, one year, post-Leif, if the campaign is successful."

"Thalia?" asks Henry.

"I can live with that," she answers.

"When do we start?" asks Leif.

"One last thing," Henry says, "which I offer not for my client's benefit but for Leif's. I know this young woman. You might think it prudent to muzzle her and limit her responses to 'No comment' and sly smiles because you've dealt with a great many Hollywood starlets where the less said, the better. But you won't be getting your money's worth. You should let her speak. I don't know Mr. Dumont well enough to grade him on his repartee, but I know Thalia's will be a great a.s.set. Even with what is, in effect, a gag order, he'll want her to step up to the mike, literally or figuratively."

With only that, Thalia stands up. "...When did I know? It sounds almost too ridiculous, too predestined. But when he rang my doorbell for our first date, he was wearing a tie with these swirly dancing stars against a blue background. I literally gasped and said, 'Who told you?' He didn't know what I was talking about, so I led him to my computer, and then he saw why I was so flabbergasted: His tie and my screen saver were Van Gogh's Starry Night. We just stood there for a minute trying to take it all in."

Thalia sits down and bestows on Leif a quiver of a smile that says love of my life.

The lawyer and publicist exchange glances as readable as a handshake. Henry maintains his game face.

Leif says, "But I don't have a tie like that."

11. Ancient History.

DENISE WONDERS ALOUD on Henry's answering machine where he's been hiding and why they haven't talked in nearly two weeks. "Call me!" she chirps. "Lots to tell you. And by the way, is Jeffrey correct in a.s.suming that you've given him the brushoff?" Her financial miseries and stepson backlash often make Henry pick up his remote and watch the news on mute as she rails. Immune to the insult inherent in Henry's not returning her calls, her follow-up messages don't scold. Her tone remains warm and animated, as if he's out of town and will play back a message marathon upon his return.

One detail, delivered as he's leaving the house for the Waldorf-Astoria, does make him pause at the front door: Denise is confiding that she extended an olive branch to Nanette, Glenn's first wife. Thanks to Henry's example, really-peace in our time and all that.

Thus Henry's list of relationships kept secret from Denise grows by one item. He knows Nanette in a way that is hardly worth mentioning: After Denise ran off with Glenn, his fellow injured party and cuckolded spouse called him. Hadn't both their marriages been ruined by absenteeism, Nanette home with flu symptoms and Henry stuck at work the night of the fateful dinner party? The hostess seated handsome solo Glenn next to adultery-p.r.o.ne Denise. Chemistry ensued.

The forsaken Mrs. Krouch called the office: Would Henry care to meet her for a drink some evening to toast their new freedom? She p.r.o.nounced the last two words with such bitter sarcasm on his answering machine that he knew any time at all spent discussing their shared humiliation would be deeply unpleasant. He had his secretary deliver the brushoff, woman to woman, maternally and diplomatically: Mr. Archer isn't quite ready to toast his freedom but wishes you and your sons well. Perhaps another time.

Nanette waited until the respective divorces were final and tried again. She didn't want to step over any line ... oh, okay, yes she did, but she had a lovely friend, single, recently divorced, no children, applying to law school most admirably at thirty-six years of age, and perhaps they could meet for coffee and advice. He could hear in Nanette's voice the wink that meant, "Of course I'm positioning this as career advice but you and I both know it's a blind date."

This time he wrote the note himself. "I would most certainly be happy to meet your friend for coffee and discuss a career in the law. I wouldn't want her to have any social expectations, if that isn't presumptuous, because I have since my divorce made peace with my h.o.m.os.e.xuality. I hope that neither that fact nor my bluntness will offend you."

Nanette called immediately. At first, she reported, there was-to be completely honest-a letdown. But almost immediately she said what all women in New York City say upon receiving this social clarification: What could be better? Gay men make the most delightful companions. Would he like to join her for, well, anything at all? And she of course had other delightful gay male friends he might like to meet, some of them members of the bar.

With ground rules established, they finally met. Nanette was not unattractive but she was colorless. She reported on her comings and goings-swimming laps, signed up for driving lessons-as if that alone const.i.tuted interesting conversation. But as she spoke, and as he dutifully appeared to be listening, he was thinking, Never again.

Now the taxi heading home from the Waldorf speeds up Park Avenue-a reminder of Denise's messages unreturned. His mediator instincts revived by negotiating with Estime, he asks the driver to pull over, which he does instantaneously with a swerve to the right and a screech of brakes. "If the party I'm calling is home, I might get out here," Henry explains. He dials Denise's landline, and she picks up on the second ring. "Thank goodness! I was starting to worry-although G.o.d knows there's a little irony in that."

Because the meter is running, Henry doesn't ask, "How so?" but, "I'm in a taxi, one block south of you on Park."

"Which means you're calling to say h.e.l.lo or you're about to ring my doorbell?"

"The latter. If it's not a bad time."

"Get out and come up," she commands.

"Have you eaten?"

"Pay first. Don't overtip. I'll tell the doorman to send you up. Nine B."