Pam of Babylon (18 page)

Marie struggled to get to work on time on Monday.

It was never easy, but Mondays were awful. Usually, she would be coming in with Jack. He would drop her off at the Fulton Street Station, and she would take the train up one stop, get off and get the crosstown bus to her office. The entire trip took two hours, and by the time she lugged her suitcase up the steps of the building, she was ready to call it a day and go home. In spite of the fact that she had only a few blocks to walk on this particular Monday, she was still exhausted. The night before had been horrible as she tossed and turned, the slights of the day running through her head. The retorts she didn’t give at the time haunted her for the rest of the night.

Her encounter with Sandra was especially troubling.
Why did I treat the woman so poorly?
Sandra never reacted, never got defensive. All the while, Marie insulted her and cursed at her. It was unbelievable that she had sunk to such a low. She would have to make some kind of restitution. If Sandra ever spoke of it to Pam, there would be hell to pay in the family.
Pam.
She questioned why she cared what Pam thought. But the truth was she did care, terribly. Pam was her light, her strength. She paved the way to love, to life for her. Without Pam, there would have been no Jack, no Lisa and Brent, no purpose to living. Old childhood patterns reemerged; she would work hard all week, be kind to her associates, apologize to Sandra, and go to Pam’s on Saturday as she had for most of her life. She was hopeful she would find Jack there again.

Sandra was straightening her desk when the call came through. Her assistant buzzed, “Bernice Smith on line two.” Sandra thought she might hear from Jack’s mother that day, but not first thing. She hadn’t had time to rehearse what she would say to her.
Oh well.
She picked up the phone.

“Sandra Benson,” she answered.

“Sandra, it’s Bernice Smith. How are you this morning?” They exchanged pleasantries, and then Bernice got right to the point. “I thought about your…um…condition all night. First of all, let me tell you how thrilled I am!” That caught Sandra off guard.
Happy, accepting, resigned, but thrilled?
She wasn’t sure about this reception, suffocation creeping up on her immediately.

“I was up thinking late last night,” she continued. “I need to talk to you. I have a suggestion, a request really.” She paused, seeming to be collecting her thoughts. “I don’t think you should tell the others—not yet. I am going to come right out and say this, with the knowledge that you may be offended, but we have to have the truth between us at all times. Is that a deal?” Sandra agreed, wishing the woman would get it out and over with.

“I’m afraid they would try to pressure you into having an abortion. Of course, you would refuse, but that seems like such an ugly way to great our newest member into the world. I tried to imagine what Jack would think, what he would advise. I know he would say, ‘It’s no one’s goddamned business.’ ” Sandra sat down. She didn’t like the idea of keeping Pam out of the loop. It seemed like one more cruelty to someone already betrayed.

“Bernice, can I think about this? I appreciate your concern, I really do. I also feel as though I want everything to be straight-up between us. I just need to think a bit more before making a decision.” They agreed and then said their goodbyes.

Sandra pushed the buzzer on the phone. When it was answered, she said, “No more calls for an hour, okay?” It seemed like Jack’s family traveled in multiples. She was sure there would be more calls from them to follow Bernice’s, and she didn’t think she could handle anymore.

24

P
am struggled at the gym. Each exercise was more brutal than the last. She couldn’t have imagined working with the trainer that day. When she was finished, no amount of lipstick reapplication was going to help her so she went back home and started over again, getting in the shower, washing her hair, reapplying her makeup, and blow-drying her hair. She was ten minutes early to the attorney’s office, a feat considering her morning thus far. He was running behind, and his secretary offered to get her a cup of coffee. She was tempted to ask how old it was, and thought,
I pay him a fortune for his services, and I deserve fresh coffee.
So she asked. The secretary said she had just made it. It was good, too, strong and bitter. Pam sat in the comfortable office and drank her coffee, getting out her calendar and checking the week. She had two more important dates—her meeting with Peter in the city and Social Security. Bernice thought it was quite amusing that Pam was going to file for Jack’s Social Security benefits for the children. Pam became rather annoyed, pointing out that Bernice didn’t think it was amusing when she started collecting at age sixty-five. They were rich as Roosevelt, yet that check arrived each month.

And, of course, if Sandra agreed, she would have company for the weekend. She thought it was a contradiction that last week, she couldn’t wait for everyone to leave, and now this week she couldn’t wait for them to come back. It was the tyranny of urgent she decided. On one hand, her emotions were so flat that she was concerned for herself, yet on the other hand, she willed every person she encountered not to say anything that would cause her to lose control. She would have to find the middle ground somewhere. She could hear Brent’s voice;
Give yourself a break, Mother!
She would try.

The attorney finally came into the room and greeted her, offering his hand to her. She followed him back to his private office. It was a beautiful place. Everything was clean and new, his carpeting obviously custom, with the initials of the firm in a petite-point weave. It was almost gauche; it spoke of wealth, and more specifically, the wealth of his clients. Pam found herself annoyed at the blatant display of money. She would consider changing attorneys if everything didn’t go perfectly, preferring to give her money to someone struggling. He put a folder down in front of her and took one up for himself.

“How was the last week for you?” he asked. “I can’t imagine what you are going through.”

She was grateful for that last comment. Someone at the funeral had said to her, “I know how hard this must be.” Pam, usually gracious, couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Do you? I thought your husband was still alive.” Lisa, overhearing, rushed over to lead her mother away. The entire funeral scene getting to be too much for her, that much was clear. The attorney began his spiel.

“Let’s read this together, okay? First of all, Jack revised his will two months ago, without your knowledge. I realize the information is going to come as a shock to you Pam, but he didn’t change the terms of the will as far and you and the children are concerned. He simply added a codicil to it, which instructs the disbursement of the business.” Thumbing through the sheath of papers, he continued, “Control of his share of Lane, Smith and Romney to Miss Sandra Elizabeth Benson. You, Lisa, and Brent will continue to receive the same amount of income from his share. Miss Smith will pick up a portion of Jack’s draw. If she decides to sell it, you will have first refusal.” He stopped talking, looking at her to see if she understood.

Pam had always thought the business would go to Brent. She was confused now. Maybe this was how she would find the anger she needed to vent against her way-ward husband.

“I gather Miss Benson is not news to you,” he said. She shook her head ‘no’.

“No, it’s not news. But this is. I rather thought he would take Brent on as a partner someday. Why would he give such a huge gift to Sandra? It doesn’t make sense. Why not just give her money?”

“We will probably never know what he had in mind. I got the feeling that he knew he was going to die soon.” He was watching her to see how she absorbed this news.

“You are the second person to have said that. Where was I while he was planning his demise? Honestly, I must have been in a daze.” She could feel herself beginning to lose her self-control. It mustn’t happen here, in this office. “Are we almost done?” she asked. “I need to take this in alone, at home.” She stood up. He reached for her hand and walked around his desk, preparing to lead her out.

“The insurance company has been contacted with the death certificate. You should be receiving a check from them soon. You are aware that he had a sizeable policy, Pam. You will never have to worry about money, regardless of the distribution of the business. All of the bank accounts will be transferred to your name. Are you okay for cash in the meantime? I don’t think you’ll have any problems cashing checks, but just in case, take this.” He reached into his wallet and produced a plastic gift card. “It’s a few hundred dollars, just in case.” She took it from him, knowing it came from Jack’s money. They kept thousands in a safe in the house, but she wasn’t going to reveal it to him. She thanked him and scurried out of the office before they could remember she had to sign something or the secretary said anything more to her. She’d had enough of that place.

Getting into the car, she slammed the door shut. It was hot, but the heat felt good. She grasped the top of the steering wheel and put her head down on her forearms.
What did this all mean? Why would Jack give his business to Sandra? If Pam and the children continued to get their share of the profits from it, how would that benefit Sandra?
Jack may have been losing it himself at that point. She would never know. She did know that Brent had no interest in his father’s business, and that was the only consolation she had. Her mother and sisters would never hear this news, at least not from her. It was sort of disrespectful of him—worse than sleeping with Sandra, than loving Sandra. Forgetting about the insurance money, she wanted a relationship with Sandra based on their mutual respect for each other, not because she was beholden to Sandra for her livelihood.

She started the car and pulled out of the parking space. There was no one she could talk to, no one who knew all the players, all the details. Marie would be a good person to bounce all of it off but it wasn’t happening, at least not if she had anything to say about it. It would something else Marie could hold against Sandra.

That afternoon, Jack’s lawyer called Sandra and asked her if they could get together as there were some things in Jack’s will that pertained to her and he needed to get her signature on a couple of things as soon as possible. Sandra hung up the phone thinking,
What next? What could Jack have possibly said or done in his will that would involve me?
She imagined him leaving her a thousand dollars.
But that amount would hardly require a signature, would it?
He’d stick a check in the mail with a note, “Jack’s legacy to you.”

They made plans to meet at a coffee shop by the Brooklyn Bridge. He didn’t have a Manhattan office anymore but needed to come into the city to give his daughter, a student at Barnard, her birthday present. He’d run his errand and then meet Sandra after work. She didn’t mind going out of her way for what could end up being half her rent. As it turned out, it was a whole lot more.

They met and each ordered coffee. Sandra was too nervous to eat anything and wanted to just get it over with. Folders were produced, and the lawyer began to read from a thick wad of papers attached by a giant clip. The essence of the will was that Jack was giving his half of the business to Sandra. She would collect a draw each year, enough to live comfortably and without worry.
And
, she added silently,
enough to support our baby, give her or him a good, secure life, and have a savings, a future.
Jack’s share of the profits from the business would continue to go to Pam and to the trust set up for his two children. The year before, it had made well over two million dollars in profits, split with Peter. If Sandra wished to sell her half, Pam had first right of refusal, followed by Peter.

She was dumbfounded. She sat with her mouth partly open, staring at him. She didn’t know where to begin.
In the first place, what was Peter going to say?
According to the lawyer, he already knew. Jack had clued him two months ago, and although he probably thought at the time that there was no chance in hell of his partner dying, he did. He died, just like that. And Sandra was Peter’s partner. This was simply the preliminary meeting; there would be a meeting of the partners and corporate attorneys in a week. In the meantime, if she didn’t already have a lawyer, she needed to get one. He could recommend someone in town who would watch over her and protect her rights from the dreaded Peter.

She was in shock.
And what was Pam going to say?
The lawyer told her that Pam was confused. That was all he would say. She would call Pam as soon as she got home that night. She stood up and shook the man’s hand and left the coffee shop. City Hall was across the street. She walked toward the subway entrance, still numb. The crowds were thick at this time of the evening, but she didn’t feel or much care about the jostling she was getting, pushed on the train and packed in like a sardine. She stood up, holding on to a filthy pole until she reached her stop.