Undo Part 42

"Hmm?" he replied, his eyes never leaving the article.

"We need to talk."

He looked up distractedly for a moment at his wife, then returned his attention to the newspaper. "Okay. Do we have yesterday's 'Examiner'?" He looked around the room. "I couldn't find one in New York."

"Over there. Next to the sofa," she said, indicating the pile of papers in the sitting room. He went to the stack and picked up the topmost issue and sat down on the sofa. "What were you saying?"

She studied him, instantly oblivious to her again as he read about himself and yesterday's news. In an odd way she was glad that he was behaving like this, poring over himself in the newspaper, for it solidified her determination and kicked up the heat of her anger a few more notches. There he sat, holding in his hands the cause for their breakup, smiling proudly at his own picture of himself and his d.a.m.ned machine. Should she feel any guilt or remorse for having taken a lover, for calling the lawyer yesterday to inform him that she wanted to divorce Matthew, when there he sat beaming at his engagement announcement to a stupid little computer?

Well then, let's see how he liked her newsbreak announcement. She stood up from the table walked over to where he sat, crossed her arms and waited for him to acknowledge her.

"I'm sorry," he said, folding the newspaper and tossing it to the floor, "I just wanted to see what they said locally." Rubbing his hands together, he settled back comfortably into the sofa. "Now, what was it you were saying?"

It was plain to see that he was being perfunctory, that he couldn't wait to be done with whatever it was she wanted to talk about so he could rush off to the office, where, having just flown in from New York, he'd squeeze in a few more hours of work.

She pictured him on the plane, skipping the meal so he wouldn't have to sacrifice the works.p.a.ce of his tray table. It was just the sort of image she needed to complete her anger and loathing.

She said, "I want a divorce." The words rolled off her tongue easily and she nearly smiled to herself. So simple. She tucked her fist in her robe pockets as he stood, hands open at his sides.

"Honey? What do you mean?"

"Shall I get you a dictionary?"

"Greta," he said cautiously, clasping his hands together. "I know I've been busy, but it's all been for this." He tapped the pile of newspapers with his foot.

"My oh my, the papers are right, you are smart. Yes, it has all been for that," she agreed, stamping her foot over the picture of his face.

"But honey," he said, wrongfully interpreting her sarcasm, "I've changed my mind. I sent a message to William before leaving New York calling the whole thing off! I don't want Wallaby and ICP to merge as we had originally planned. This way I - I mean, Wallaby - will have more power because now we're going to grow at a phenomenal rate, all because of yesterday's announcement." His eyes were s.h.i.+ning. "The plan is off!" he said, and gripped her shoulders.

"And so are we!" she spat, shrugging from his touch.

"But Greta, wait. I mean, I know we've had our problems, but that doesn't mean we should just throw away our lives together."

"Together?" she said, astonished. "What lives, Matthew? What together?" She shook her head sadly at his photograph smiling up at her from the newspaper. "There's your together."

"Greta? What is it? What have I done? What can I do? Is there something you want?"

"No, Matthew, not from you." She touched her finger to her horseshoe charm, slid it from side to side. "This time, I've gotten what I want all by myself."

This seemed funny to him. "Oh?" he said grandly. "And what's that, honey?"

"Love."

That wasn't what he'd had in mind. He blinked several times rapidly. His eyes locked on a point in the ceiling. All the clowning was gone from his face. He had expected something amusing, like a new hobby or craft, but this took him by complete surprise. "An affair?" he asked, catching her eye. She looked away. He tugged the cuffs of his s.h.i.+rtsleeves, composed himself, all business. "An affair," he repeated. "I see."

"It's your fault."

He was thoughtful for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Yes. I suppose it is."

Matthew's first reaction was to tell her about Laurence. He cared very much for the girl, and telling his wife so would at least give him the satisfaction of equally offending the fidelity they had promised one another when they married. He wanted to tell his wife how Lauri had helped him build his confidence the way she once had, and too how the girl brought him pleasure in ways she, his wife, never had. But what would that accomplish? She was having an affair, he thought absently as he perused the room, eyes stopping here and there. He might be having an affair with Laurence, but he was not in love with her, and he certainly had no desire to marry her. He was not in love with his own wife either, but, he quickly calculated in his mind, he could not bear a divorce. It was a matter of economics. Quite simply, if he agreed, she would be ent.i.tled to at least half of his a.s.sets, over fifteen million dollars, give or take a million. His alternative: appease her, make her feel better, no matter what the investment. A weekend cottage in Monterey? A trip around the world? Whatever she wanted, he would give it to her - he would think of it as an insurance policy.

"Darling, I'm so sorry," he said with pleading eyes. "It really is my fault. What with my obsession over Wallaby all this time, letting things get this far away from me. From us. However, I don't think divorce is the right answer. We should try to work this out."

She smiled. "Do you think I don't know what you're thinking? Oh yes, half of this is mine. And that's the law. Darling."

He swallowed. She knew him too well, could read him so easily. He couldn't hide from her his fear of losing half of his wealth. He had to try a different angle.

"But you're the one having an affair. You admitted it. How do you think that will hold up?"

"It doesn't matter. California still splits the pot."

"This is bulls.h.i.+t."

"You should know, you're so full of it."

"Don't challenge me on this, Greta."

"Too late. I called Mitch.e.l.l yesterday, and told him - "

Matthew cut her short. "You what?" His voice was a disbelieving rasp. "You called my friend and told him we wanted a divorce?"

"No. I said I wanted it. But yes," she said with a shrug, unafraid, "that's what I did."

"How dare you contact my lawyer when I knew nothing of this! Are you crazy?"

"Why, yes, darling. That's exactly what I am, crazy. Driven mad by Mr. Chips. At least that's what I'm ready to tell the court, if I decide I'd like more than half. In fact, I think I need to lie down, I'm feeling sort of suicidal again. All the stress I've been under since this happened." She stuck her four-fingered hand out at him.

He smacked it away. "I'll fight you on this, Greta."

"Try. You'll only make matters worse for yourself," she said, kicking the newspapers. "It doesn't matter what they might say about me in the papers. But you, my dear - you better think twice before you make your next move, or it's going to cost you a h.e.l.l of a lot more than you can afford."

It was true. The press would turn this kind of thing into a circus. He had seen this expression on her face before, this same expression he had once found so alluring, so sure and empowering, so certain of his success, their success. When working on his behalf, this look had once charged him with excitement, confidence. Now he saw the face of his opponent from across the ring, and she looked fanatical in the way she said she was - in the way she would convince the court she was, and possibly all but wipe him out.

He needed time. This was too much to handle right now, especially in light of his change of heart with ICP. He had to make a deal with her, come to some sort of understanding, at least for a short while until he could deal with this properly.

"What about a trial period?" he said. "Just give me a little time, and we'll work out some sort of settlement between us. In the meantime, I'll leave you alone. You can have whatever you need to go away on your own if you'd like. Let's just not do anything hasty. Please, Greta. I'm asking nicely. Just give me some breathing room to sort through this."

She thought for a moment about what Jean-Pierre had told her.

First, he was going to travel to France to look at properties for them. That would take some time. And once he found something, she would have to pack, and with all the logistics involved in moving, especially to another country, that too would take awhile. Either way, she would be in California for at least a few more months while she and Jean-Pierre made their plans. There was no real hurry, and, she suddenly realized, they had not even discussed marriage. Would they marry? She felt an unexpected chill along her neck. Perhaps it was best to play it cool, she told herself, while the arrangements for France were being made.

She said, "I may choose to travel, get away for while. Maybe even stay somewhere else."

What could that cost? Matthew asked himself. Compared to what she might get if they were to proceed with a divorce, setting her up in her own place amounted to a pinch of salt. For now.

"Fine. Whatever you need. Let's see what happens when things settle down in a few months."

"Ha ha, that's what you think. Please, take a good look at yourself. With you it will never settle down, Matthew. You're married to Wallaby, not me. You think you've replaced Peter Jones as some sort of hotshot smart aleck, but now you're as sickly attached to that company as he ever was. You didn't want him out of your way so you could run the business - no, you were after more. You were after his lover. And you got it." She shot him a mean laugh and turned her head in disgust. And began to cry.

If only right now he would come to her and hold her, and tell her everything would be all right, and kiss her, really kiss her, the way he once had, full of need and desire, then she would go back to him, make their marriage work again. Somehow. As happy as Jean-Pierre made her feel, she understood that she had only begun her affair with him because Matthew had rejected her. If he wanted her back, he could have her. But it was now or never.