A Very Good Life (13 page)

“Isn’t that scent of oranges sublime?” a woman asked her husband.

He nodded. “It is” he said, “Do you think it’s coming from a candle?”

Dana smiled. “I have a Concolor fir in my apartment upstairs,” she said. “I think its aroma may have begun to spread throughout the building. It was cut yesterday at the Winterberry Christmas Tree Farm in Bucks County. Isn’t it amazing how a tree can retain its fragrance for so long once it’s put in a stand with water?”

“So true,” the woman said, touching Dana lightly on the forearm. She took a ballpoint pen from her purse and scribbled “Concolor fir” and “Winterberry” on a page of her day planner. “We’ve wanted to go to Bucks County, and now we have a good reason to do so,” the woman told her husband.

The elevator doors opened and the couple boarded the car, but Dana waved goodbye and moved to the far end of the lobby, where the odor of oranges was the strongest. She and Andrew had brought the tree upstairs using the freight elevator normally used for furniture and large deliveries, and it seemed natural that the odor had lingered throughout the entire service area.

She entered the area and gasped. In a deep rectangular alcove opposite the freight elevator was her five-foot Concolor fir. Some of the branches were bent at odd angles, and a few had broken off completely from what had obviously been rough treatment, as if someone had taken the fir down in the elevator and merely tossed it unceremoniously into the alcove. Bluish-green needles littered the concrete floor, and it was now obvious why the odor of oranges permeated the lobby so thoroughly. The fallen needles and broken branches had allowed the fragrant sap to yield its odor into the air more strongly.

Dana reasoned that Brett surely would not have dumped her tree into the service area, especially after their pointed exchange about the fir the previous evening. He’d even complimented it. There had to have been some mistake. The building engineer had been summoned early that morning to fix a broken light switch on the wall of the library, and Brett had asked him to haul away a few boxes of books that they had decided to donate to charity in order to make room for new additions to the shelves. Maybe the engineer had misheard Brett’s instructions and thought he was supposed to take away the tree as well. It was plausible.

Dana retraced her steps and took the elevator to her apartment, pushing the button for her floor multiple times in frustration. She fumbled for her key, opened the front door, and hurried into the living room. Her heart sank when she saw Brett standing on an extension ladder, decorating a ten-foot tree. The table Andrew had provided was nowhere in sight.

“Isn’t it a beauty!” Brett said proudly. “It’s a Concolor fir, just taller! I called the Winterberry farm this morning to put in a special order and paid a ransom for someone to deliver it by this afternoon. You were right all along, honey. A Concolor fir is the kind of tree I think we should get every year—a new tradition, just like you said.” Brett stepped down from the ladder and surveyed the partially decorated tree. “What do you think?” he asked. “I see you went to the Gazebo. Let me see the new decorations.”

He walked over to Dana and kissed her on the lips. “I am officially in the Christmas spirit today, and it’s all thanks to you.”

Dana was once again moved to tears in the face of her husband’s thoughtless behavior. Brett, however, appeared puzzled.

“I thought you’d be happy, Dana. It’s a Concolor fir! Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m confused.”

“I wanted the
small
tree!” Dana protested.

“But why? This way, you can have your cake and eat it, too.”

Waves of guilt washed over Brett as he uttered the very words that Janice had used to describe his behavior.

“I want us to be on the same page!” Dana replied, almost yelling. “I’m tired of trying to second guess what you want, when you want it, how much time you have, and what is allocated to
us
! It would have taken us three hours to go to Bucks County and return with a tree, but that was too much for you to spare, even on a holiday weekend. I guess I should be thankful that you showed up for Thanksgiving dinner! That small tree represented a lovely day that I had with my dearest friends, who are there for me time and time again because you are missing in action. The problem is that you can’t see beyond yourself and what satisfies you at any given moment. Decisions have consequences, and you decided it was my job to get the tree. The tall tree would have been perfect if
we
selected it yesterday, but today I have my friends’ feelings to consider.”

“Honey, where are you going?” Brett asked as Dana turned on her heels and started to leave without responding to his question.

Dana rode the elevator down to the basement and knocked on the door of the building engineer.

“Hi, Mrs. McGarry,” said a tall man carrying more than a few extra pounds around his waist. “What can I do for you?”

The engineer was in his early fifties and had bushy eyebrows and a thick brown mustache. His tool belt clanged whenever he moved.

“Mr. Janowski, I hate to ask you to help us out twice in one day, but there’s a small Christmas tree next to the freight elevator that got thrown out by mistake. I was wondering if you could bring it up to my apartment.”

“Give me ten minutes and that tree will be back upstairs,” Mr. Janowski said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Dana said. “I’ll be waiting.”

When Dana returned to the apartment, Brett had already left, leaving the ten-foot tree partially decorated.

Mr. Janowski arrived within minutes, holding the smaller Concolor fir by one hand. To the building engineer, carrying the tree was as easy as lifting a potted plant.

“Nice little tree you got here,” he said. “Love that smell of oranges.”

Dana had the engineer carry the table from B. Altman to the library and then set the tree into a stand and place it on the Fortuny cloth.

“Thanks again, Mr. Janowski,” Dana said, giving her helper a five-dollar tip. “You’re the best.”

“Anytime, Mrs. McGarry,” he said, leaving the apartment as his tool belt jangled.

Dana decided to decorate the five-foot fir herself, but first she slumped onto the sofa with Wills, who was also clearly upset, and cried for half an hour. She felt conflicted, torn. Was Brett, in his own clumsy way, trying to make amends for years of increasing neglect? Walking home from work on Friday evening, she’d sensed that big changes in her life were in the offing, but not necessarily changes for the better. And then everything had shifted with Brett’s tender side suddenly coming to the forefront. New hope had coursed through her veins. She still wanted to give her husband the benefit of the doubt. After all, how much could a man change in just a few hours? He could have gone to any lot in the city to select a replacement tree, but he’d ordered the kind of tree she wanted from Winterberry Christmas Tree Farm and paid dearly to have it delivered. Yes, he was trying. Thinking of weekend homes and children was all well and good, but she had to take one day at a time. The old saying was true
:
a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Brett had indeed taken that step.

Dana started decorating the small tree, realizing that her head needed to be clear for work on the following day. An entirely different set of challenges awaited her at B. Altman, and if she were going to be effective at her job, she needed to trust that her relationship with Brett had at least experienced some movement in the past three days.

She also would be joining Rosamond Bernier at the after-party Tuesday night, and she thought of Nina’s words yet again:
we know what a determined woman can accomplish, don’t we?
She would need to be focused. It was almost 1975, International Women’s Year. If she wanted to live up to the expectations of women like Nina Bramen, she would have to rise to the occasion. If Nina could navigate exotic bazaars in the Himalayas, she could handle a teen contest.

• • •

Brett was angry and his breathing was shallow as he made his way to the street and, as he’d done the previous evening, walked along the sidewalk to gather his thoughts. He had tried to please Dana. He’d found the perfect compromise by getting a taller version of the tree she wanted, but she was not only ungrateful but downright angry, worried more about her friends’ feelings than his. Maybe she was the one who didn’t have her priorities straight.

He quickened his pace to release pent-up energy. He wanted to preserve his marriage, and by his way of thinking, he’d made several concessions in the past few days. But he was only human. Dana was acting childishly, as if going to Bucks County to get a Christmas tree was a sign of true love.

He spotted a pay telephone up ahead and fished in his pocket for two nickels. He dropped the coins into the slot and dialed Janice’s number. When she answered, Brett outlined what the two would be doing in the coming week at Davis, Konen and Wright.

“Sure,” Janice said, “but I already know all of that, and you’re calling from a payphone. I can hear traffic in the background. Why are you calling? Do you want to come over?”

“Yes. I mean no—I can’t come over now. I’m just not in a very good mood.”

“Let me guess. You and Dana had a spat.”

“Yeah, something like that.” He proceeded to relate the fight he’d had with Dana in the living room a few minutes earlier. There was silence on the other end of the line. “Are you still there?” he asked.

“Still here,” Janice replied thoughtfully. “This is exactly what I’ve been talking about. These customs you two have are ridiculous. This is all over the size of a Christmas tree? Frankly, I think you’re both a couple of spoiled brats. You’re so busy talking about life and the precious little baubles it should contain that you never ever bother to really live
any
kind of life.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said a tentative Brett.

“Of course I’m right. Plan on coming back to my apartment when we have some spare time this week.”

“
This
week?”

“Would you like a written invitation? Yes, this week! Have you forgotten about the Hartlens?”

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact. Not only is Jack Hartlen meeting with the firm, but Patti and Jack are moving to New York and a friend of mine volunteered Dana to help Patti get settled when she gets here.” He paused for several seconds. “I . . . need your help.”

“More than you realize,” Janice said. “Hold up your end of the deal, and I’ll hold up mine. If you do, the Hartlens won’t be a problem.”

“Thanks.”

Brett hung up and headed back to the apartment.

D
ana sat at her desk on Monday morning feeling a renewed optimism about her work at B. Altman. At home, she would adopt her father’s patience, giving her marriage the necessary time to find balance and harmony. At work, however, she was ready to use her mother’s more aggressive style. She intended to make both Andrew and Nina proud of her drive and innovative thinking. Most of all, she had something to prove to herself. She already knew that she was more than capable of handling tasks far beyond her position, but it was now time to execute her ideas and move on to even bigger ones.

Dana removed a yellow legal pad from her desk drawer and picked up a silver pen. The first order of business was to finalize a rehearsal schedule for the contestants who would be competing at the fashion show luncheon on Wednesday at B. Altman’s Charleston Garden restaurant. The judges would be given ballots to vote for Miss Altman Teen of the Year, the winner being announced on Friday evening at the Sugar Plum Ball. Dana realized that the ballot was a frivolous exercise, but she had formed an idea about how to put the contest back onto honest footing thanks to a random comment by Andrew on Saturday. Regardless of whether her idea worked or not, she would have a clear conscience about her own involvement in the contest.

Dana looked up to see Andrew standing at the edge of her office.

“So how does the McGarry Christmas tree look?” Andrew asked. “I trust my display skills were able to set the stage properly.”

“Let’s just say that the tree is alive and well in the library after a bit of horticultural CPR,” she said.

“Brett didn’t like the small size, did he? What is it about typical guys anyway? Everything has to be bigger and better.”

“There’s a large tree in the living room now, but all-out warfare in the McGarry household was averted for the time being,” Dana said, making light of her situation.

Andrew was wise enough not to ask for any details, especially since he knew that Dana had a full week ahead of her. “We’ve got a lot going on at the store today,” he said, changing the subject, “but remember that we’re going to Rosamond Bernier’s lecture and after-party tomorrow night.”

“How could I forget?” Dana said. “I almost convinced myself that meeting her at Lenôtre was a dream.”

“It was surreal all right” Andrew said, grinning. “It’s going to be a fabulous Who’s Who party. I can’t believe we’re going. I wouldn’t be surprised if Leonard Bernstein shows up. They’ve been friends for years. Meanwhile, why not come down to the main floor? Estée Lauder is going to arrive any minute. Mark and I have been here since six-thirty adjusting the floor plan to accommodate the Lauder family, but Ira hasn’t given us the green light to show it to anyone yet. Things could get tense very quickly, although Mark will be dispatched to use his charm to make sure everybody is on their best behavior.”

Dana shut her eyes tightly. It was tempting—she’d love to see how everything played out, but she had her own job to do. “I’m going to beg off, as much as I’d love to join you. Too much on my plate, but give me all the juicy details when it’s over.”

“Okay,” Andrew said, “but if I get wounded in battle, I’ll be disappointed that you weren’t there to help with the triage.”

Dana put her pen down and stood. If she were going to learn how to get things done, she wanted to be an eyewitness to how deals were cut, especially in the cosmetic department, plus she wanted to see how Andrew and Mark’s plans would allegedly appease all parties involved. She might learn something valuable. Getting involved—it’s what Virginia would do.