Someone Else's Husband(47)

“This staying-home business,” he’d said, “it’s for the birds. You’re brilliant. You would make an incredible lawyer.” And he meant it. It was one of the things she loved most about him. He saw her as a whole person and respected every part of her—not just the aspects that served him, like a lot of men.

“I already have my hands full here, Richard.”

“We can get a nanny. We’ll make it work.”

But the truth was that she would have to make it work, wouldn’t she? Juggling a career as a lawyer, raising their children, and running the household? She knew plenty of other working women, and she had yet to see it play out as anything other than a yoke around the wife’s neck. The best they could hope for was a husband who would stand to the side empathetically pointing out how unfair everything was. As well intended as Richard was, he wasn’t going to suddenly change what the world expected of him.

“No, no, it’s just a hard phase,” Gretchen had assured Richard, and she believed it. “It will pass.”

And some things did eventually change. Cassandra had taken her intensity off to kindergarten. Elizabeth had stayed hard, always, but Gretchen at least learned not to take her oppositional nature so personally. Becks arrived, and his sweet, dreamy nature changed the dynamic, made things easier. Other things stayed the same—like Richard’s long, unpredictable hours and his many friends, and so Gretchen focused on building their life around his busy schedule—club memberships, board seats at Lincoln Center, and a full calendar of cocktail parties with good friends. Some things simply were what they were. If you changed your expectations, then nothing was a disappointment.



* * *



*

“You guys know anything about your dad and Frankie?” Scotty asked, turning to the children. Gretchen bristled at his calling that woman by her first name, like they were old friends.

But then Gretchen remembered that Scotty did know her, as much as you could know anyone after ten days. But the first name made it sound like he had had a relationship with her, which increased the likelihood Richard had.

“Of course not,” Cassandra said, resting her chin in her palm. She sounded exhausted, bored. “There’s nothing to know. This whole thing is so insane.”

“Our dad would never hurt anyone,” Becks said with uncharacteristic force.

“That’s for sure,” Elizabeth chimed in. “Never.”

“No, no,” Scotty added. “Of course he didn’t. I was asking more about Frankie in general, if he’d talked about her. I mentioned her to Hilary when I told her about the trip. Maybe he said something about Frankie’s life or her situation that might be relevant now, given what’s happened. Richard doesn’t think he said anything important. But being locked in a jail cell has a way of scrambling memories.”

The children looked at one another and shook their heads. “No,” they mumbled in unison. He hadn’t spoken about her to the children. That was good, surely. But when Gretchen tried to lean into the thought, she found frustratingly little purchase. Wasn’t her theory that it was only the bad things that were worth hiding?

Mikey was studying her when she glanced toward him, anticipating the next question like a blow. She relaxed her jaw. It would surely be better to seem less concerned.

“He didn’t speak about her with any of us,” Gretchen said smoothly. “He would have had no reason to.”

“No, no, of course not. That makes sense,” Scotty said with a quick wave of his hand.

“We need to cast a wide net with these questions. I’m sure you understand,” Mikey Pearce said, looking at her compassionately. “Sometimes these conversations can yield important details.”

Mikey Pearce had an unassuming way about him, but Gretchen was quickly getting the sense that it masked something far more relentless underneath. Something she wanted him to use on behalf of Richard but that she did not want directed her way.

“I understand,” Gretchen said. “Of course.”

“Anyway, the main thing we need at this point is for you all to be at the arraignment Monday morning,” Mikey said. “You need to present a united front—optics matter enormously. You’ll be in the front row, right behind Richard. Keep your expressions neutral, no matter what you hear. The prosecution is likely to drag out inflammatory details when they argue against bail and—”

“What details?” Cassandra resumed her pacing.

“We still don’t know specifics yet, unfortunately,” Mikey Pearce said. “They don’t have to share their evidence until pretrial discovery. But their story at arraignment will certainly focus on the severity of the crime, and the possibility of flight. So they’ll make your dad out to be a monster. You should not look happy to be in court. A woman is dead. You should react like you’re hearing about a serious, upsetting situation, but one that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“We can do that,” Becks said. “Because it’s true—this doesn’t have anything to do with my dad.” His eyes were glassy, his voice strained.

“Of course it’s true.” Gretchen stood and walked toward him, put her hand on his back. His T-shirt was damp with sweat and her hand stuck as she tried to rub it in a circle.

“That’s why I need to be sure that as your dad’s attorney, I know absolutely everything,” Mickey said. “I’ve seen secrets sink even the most innocent defendant.”