By Invitation Only Read online

  “She’s probably too embarrassed to talk to anybody,” Floyd said.

  “And ashamed,” Mom said.

  “Isn’t that crazy? I’ll bet you my two front teeth she had no idea what he was even up to,” I said. “Yet she’ll be punished for it.”

  “He’s being arraigned this morning,” Floyd said. “In federal court. I read it online in the New York Times.”

  “Mr. Cambria’s in very deep dukey-doo,” Mom said.

  “Mother!” Floyd and I said together. Virnell never said dukey-doo, except in an extreme situation.

  “Well, I hope he has a good lawyer,” she said. “And a good excuse.”

  “I don’t think a good excuse is the kind of thing that forgives securities fraud, especially to the extent he committed it,” Floyd said. “Twenty-something billion—that’s with a b, not an m.”

  “Allegedly,” I said. “He’s entitled to due process.”

  “Well, he’s going to be tried in the media, because that’s what they do these days,” Floyd said. “It isn’t right, but that’s how it goes. Susan’s garbage is probably being sifted through by some reporter from the National Enquirer.”

  “Good gravy,” Mom said. “You’re probably right.”

  “The meat loaf was good last night,” Floyd said. “Thank you for dinner, Mom.”

  “It will be even better tonight,” Mom said.

  I thought about Susan all day long. Her life had to be so unbelievably awful right now. The betrayal and the lies and all the public humiliation! How could she even get out of bed? Of course, Alejandro was all we could talk about at supper that evening.

  “What is it about leftover meat loaf?” I said.

  “The flavors have to marry,” Mom said,

  “Well, it is better the second day,” Floyd said, “like spaghetti sauce.”

  “Dancing with the Stars is on tonight,” she said.

  We knew it was her favorite program.

  “Mom, why don’t Floyd and I clean up the dishes so you can go watch it?”

  “Oh, thank you. It’s a blessing to have such good children,” she said, looking at us, first me and then Floyd, and I knew in that moment the truth about how no matter our age, we would always be her little boy and her little girl. “I’m still tired from all those hours in the car. I’d like to get to bed early. Where’s Gus?”

  “Outside. He doesn’t need to be in the kitchen when we eat,” Floyd said. “I’ll let him in.”

  “Go on and get your bath and don’t give anything else a second thought. We’ll lock up everything.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.”

  I got up and started running the water in the sink, waiting for it to get hot.

  “She’s getting up there,” I said. “Yesterday, when I came up for lunch, she had forgotten to turn on the oven.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I’m seeing little things like that more and more. I just hate it.”

  We finished cleaning up the kitchen and said good night.

  “The garbage is out and Gus is in,” Floyd said.

  “Good job,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Mom had fallen asleep in front of the television. I shook her gently to rouse her.

  “Come on, Miss Virnell, time to call it a day,” I said.

  “Oh!” she said and looked around, surprised to be in the living room. “I must’ve drifted off.”

  “No worries,” I said. “Let me help you up.”

  She took hold of my forearm and pulled against it, and when she was on her feet, she wobbled a little.

  “Oh!” she said.

  “It’s okay. Steady there.”

  “I’m fine now,” she said. “This getting-old business is a pain in the neck!”

  “Yes, it is,” I said.

  “Come on, Gus. Your girlfriend needs you,” she said, and smiled at me. “Did you hear from Alden yet?” She started walking toward her bedroom.

  “What do you mean ‘yet’?”

  “Doesn’t he read the news?” she called over her shoulder.

  “He’ll probably call tomorrow,” I said and shrugged, thinking Alejandro’s trouble would be a good excuse for him to call if he wanted to. “Good night!”

  I was dressed for bed and just brushing my teeth when my cell phone rang. It was after ten. Who died? I thought, and my heart raced from fear that something happened to Fred or Shelby. It was Susan. I threw my toothbrush in the sink and grabbed a hand towel, wiping my face vigorously.

  “Diane?” she said. “It’s me, Susan Kennedy Cambria, mother-in-law of Frederick, your son. I’m just returning your call.”

  I could tell she was as drunk as a dog and I wouldn’t blame her if she was.

  “How are you, Susan?”

  “You heard, I s’pose?”

  “I think I know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “Tha’ son uffa bitch’s leading a double life,” she mumbled.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m too bombed to ’splain it now. Call you tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Anytime.”

  Without another word, we were disconnected. At that moment it seemed to me that the world around me was spinning in the wrong direction.

  Chapter 25

  No Forgiveness

  “Repent! The end is near,” Susan said to her bathroom mirror.

  In the time it took for the earth to make only one daily rotation, my life exploded like a Jackson Pollock into something beyond surreal.

  The first blast of insult went as follows. At nine in the morning, my housekeeper had not shown up. I texted her. Tina? Where are you? She texted back. Sorry for your trouble. I quit. No work for criminal. My green card too hard to get!

  Thanks, Tina, I thought. Was she kidding? We’re the ones who got you that green card in the first place.

  That was the nicest part of my day, the least of the unrelenting fury that followed.

  Alejandro was arraigned that morning. My plan had been to go the MCC and tell him I was 100 percent on his side, that we would get through this together. Then, without any warning and against the advice of his lawyers, he pled guilty, confessing to all the charges. It was televised. He was doomed. So was I. Did anyone call me to warn me that my life was probably over? No. Did anyone have an inkling that he would plead guilty? Maybe his lawyers did, but I was one hundred thousand percent convinced that he was completely innocent. I stood there in my kitchen and heard my own death sentence delivered live on CNN.

  Let me repeat that. He pled guilty!

  I could feel bile rising in my throat, and I suddenly had the dry heaves. There would be no trial, no jury, no chance for his exoneration. It was over. He was going down. His business was finished, his assets were no longer his and his traitorous name was somewhere below scum. Where did that leave his family? In the filth and garbage of the gutter with him, that’s where. I began to shake from head to toe while my stomach convulsed. I had to pull myself together, but I couldn’t. My entire life as I had known it was coming to a screaming, scorching halt. I ran to my bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, over and over again. When I looked in the mirror there was nothing but horror on my face. How could he do this to me? To our daughter?

  I threw myself across our bed and after a long while of sighing and sighing and wishing for the relief of a good cry that never came, it finally dawned on me that I had better make some kind of a plan.

  It was a good thing Alejandro was behind bars because I would’ve choked him until he was dead. I mean it. I was beyond furious and beyond devastated. There were no words. I would never get over it. So now I was going to the MCC to tell him to take himself to the bottom floor of hell as fast as he could. It really was where he belonged.

  I could see the sidewalk below the terrace, and it was swarmed with press. Suddenly a drone appeared, at eye level with me, and started taking pictures. I ran inside in fear and pulled my curtains. Then I pulled the curtains in
every room. Drones! My God, I thought, is there no privacy to be had anymore? What if I had not been dressed?

  But getting out of my building was like a scene from a Robert De Niro movie. I wrapped my head in a scarf and put a hat on over it. Big sunglasses, Alejandro’s topcoat, and snow boots. It was the best disguise I could make. I took the service elevator down to the back entrance of the building, and when I got outside, I ran for several blocks. Try running in snow boots. I was very lucky I didn’t slip and fall with all the frozen snow, ice, and salt that was everywhere. I could’ve broken my hip and been found unconscious. Nice headline: former socialite, mrs. fraud found near death in a drift! Oh, God.

  Finally, I hailed a cab and gave him the address where Alejandro was being detained. My pockets were stuffed with his medicine, which I should let him beg for, my ID, tissues, some cash, and a lipstick. His confession drastically changed my tune.

  I entered the MCC, my ID was checked, and I was led to a visitor’s booth. Here came my husband through a door wearing an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit. He sat opposite me behind bulletproof glass, which was a good thing for his sake.

  I picked up the receiver of the telephone and he picked up the one on his side.

  “I want to hear it from your lips. Are you really guilty?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m sorry, amorcita, for everything.”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry? That’s nice. You know, when I got up this morning, I thought we could fight this, that it all was a huge mistake, that we’d get it sorted out and go back to our lives. Now you’re telling me that you knew what you were doing was against the law? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  I could feel my temper still rising when I thought I was already as angry as I could become.

  “I know, Susan. Things got out of control.”

  “I’ll say things are out of control. I think I’d rather be in there than have to go through what I’m going through out here.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Well, for the last twenty-four hours, our building has been under siege from the media. These . . . these . . . rodents are driving the residents crazy! I’ve been asked to move out of our building until this unfortunate little misunderstanding blows over. Now that we know it’s not blowing over, I imagine I will have to move because of some darn persnickety clause in the building’s by-laws about sheltering fugitives from the law. Stop flinching, you’ll make your crow’s-feet worse.”

  I was short of breath, seething with anger. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears.

  “I knew that you’d be forced to leave. The only good thing is that they have to pay fair market value for the shares, according to the by-laws, that is. But the money may not go to you.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “The federal government is going to work very hard to find and seize all of my assets. They will want to sell everything I own to make reparations to the people whose money I lost.”

  I was going to be homeless? Wait a minute. What?

  “So, them paying fair market value benefits you, not me? There you go! Always putting yourself first! How can you sit there as cool as a cucumber when what you’ve done is throw me in the streets? What’s the matter with you?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Let me ask you something. Would you rent an apartment to me? No! No one will! And what am I supposed to do for money?”

  “Believe me, darling, I am mortified and ashamed beyond anything you can imagine. Do you think I planned to blow up our lives?”

  “Well, you certainly did a fine job, and I’m not your darling anymore. My life is blown to smithereens! How deep will they go? I mean, can they take my assets as well?”

  “It depends. If there’s jewelry or a painting or something I bought you that they decide was paid for with ill-gotten gains? Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sure you’re as sorry as can be. ‘Sorry’ is such a tiny word. It’s way too small to cover what you’ve done.” I just stared at him. I was in a state of disbelief. “Tell me, how did you get caught?”

  “My secretary called the FBI.”

  “Why would Nadia do that? She adores you!”

  “Oh, Susan. You’re going to hear everything, because it’s all going to come out. I’d rather you heard it from me. The truth is, she does adore me. I’ve been involved with her for years. It got out of control. She wanted me to divorce you. I refused. She called the FBI. That’s the truth.”

  “WHAT?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Holy hell! I had become that wife who was the last to know. Why was I surprised? If one billion dollars wasn’t enough for him, why would one woman satisfy him?

  “Alejandro, you’ve been lying to me for years. Why would I believe a word you say now?”

  I felt like a complete fool. I was numb with shock.

  Now he had tears coming down his face.

  “Save your crying for the judge,” I said.

  “True. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me. God, on one hand I’m so relieved this is over. It has been excruciating to live with so many lies. On the other hand, I wish I was dead.” He said this in a dramatic whisper that didn’t make me feel one iota of sympathy. I was beyond furious. I was a woman betrayed and scorned, filled with the fury of hell.

  “I wish you were dead too. I really do. Do you realize that you have destroyed my life as well as yours? What about our daughter? This is going to break her heart! She idolized you! And now you drag our name through the mud like this? Do you know how many people’s lives you ruined? And these were our friends, Alejandro! People who trusted you! Old people! Shame on you, Alejandro! You son of a bitch. Do you understand how deeply you are despised? Do you understand that you are lower than Judas?”

  “I know. Do you think I think of anything else? I am racked with regret and guilt! Consumed by it!”

  “Let me tell you something. My pathetic mother is sitting in a penitentiary somewhere in the middle of Tennessee for blowing my abusive father’s brains out. Now I understand why she did it.”

  “So that’s what happened to her. I just assumed she was dead.”

  “Yes. The bastard deserved it too.”

  “God, I never knew.”

  “May I point out that you never asked? You might recall that because you’re so self-absorbed, we’ve literally spent years talking about you. I don’t like to be reminded of it or her. And especially him.”

  “I understand.”

  “And I understand from the news, because that’s where I learn about my family now, that you might be sentenced to serve up to one hundred years. Is that right?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Maybe more.”

  I paused for a moment and then let him have it.

  “I want a divorce.”

  “You’re not going to stand by me, amorcita?”

  “And I am not your amorcita. Fuck you, Alejandro. What would you like me to do? Spend the rest of my life waiting for you to get paroled? And, amorcita, I’m taking my name back. Get your whore Nadia to stand by you.”

  “It’s you I love, Susan. You know that.”

  “Right. Wait until your daughter hears about this, Alejandro. You’ve placed such a shameful burden on her she’ll never escape. To think that I loved you. I never even suspected for even one tiny moment that you were capable of something so devastating and heinous.”

  “Where will you go?” he said.

  “Don’t worry about me, Alejandro. I’m sure there’s a cave somewhere for us. Oh, I gave your Crestor and blood pressure medication to the guard. And when you’re served with divorce papers, sign them.”

  I hung up the receiver, got up to leave, and saw he was still talking. I picked the receiver up again.

  “What?” I said. “What is there left to say?”

  “I love you, Susan. Take up tennis. You can use my racket. I know you’ve always wanted to play.”

  “Have you lost your damn mind?” Tennis? I hung up a
gain and left, never looking back, not even once.

  Somehow I got back into my building easily through the service entrance as it was getting dark. When I was I my apartment, I called the doorman.

  “Frank, just say yes or no. Are there members of the press still hanging around?”

  “They seem to have gone home for the day,” he said. “But I’m sure they’ll be back in the morning. Bright and early.”

  That wasn’t exactly a yes-or-no answer. Who is he to complain about the press? He wasn’t a resident! I should’ve told him to enjoy his fifteen minutes of fame.

  “Thanks, Frank.”

  It was just four thirty, but already dark. I could zip out and get a manicure and a pedicure, both of which I needed very badly. And I needed a distraction, to feel normal again. I ditched my disguise and put on a cashmere turtleneck and a pair of pants. I ordered an Uber, threw on my regular coat and scarf, and took the elevator down to the lobby. Thankfully, I didn’t run into a soul I knew.

  “I’ll be back later,” I said to Frank as he opened the door of my Uber for me.

  I was back sooner than later, because here’s what happened when I got to Joy Art Nails.

  “Hi!” I said as I walked in. “I need a manicure and a pedicure, please.”

  A young girl from Taiwan, one I’d never seen before, said, “You, please! Pick a color!” Newly single, I thought I’d try a red, something bold to show I wasn’t in mourning. Why not?

  Then Francine, the owner or manager, I was never quite sure which, who also barely spoke English, came over and whispered to me. “You have to go now.”

  “Why? You’re not that busy.”

  I looked around. All the girls gawked at me. The patrons who had been staring quickly resumed reading or doing something on their iPhones. One snapped a picture of me.

  “Sorry, we can’t do your nails anymore. Sorry, your husband is no good for business.”

  “Francine! I’m not a crook!”

  She took my arm and gently but forcibly led me to the door.

  “You make the other clients very nervous. You should go now and not come back. Sorry.”

  I was in shock again, standing on the sidewalk. She closed the door in my face. Well, so much for Joy Art Nails. Maybe I should call the Department of Immigration and suggest they look into Francine’s business.