The Family Man Part 35

"Not Leif? May I ask that?"

"You can ask, but he's so furious that he won't even answer a text message."

"Something's not right," says Henry. "Leif Dumont is not a lady-killer. This is a man who can't quite carry on a conversation, who is probably interpreting an order from Estime along the lines of 'That's over. She's out. Next!' to mean 'Don't contact Thalia, period.' My guess is that his head is spinning. He's hired this outfit for advice and guidance, and look where he is now: even less famous and a lot more confused."

"You know what I should have done? I should've spoken up before this got off the ground, when he first invited me on board. I could have asked, 'How much are you paying this outfit? Let's just try it. Let's go out on a couple of dates and I'll have my bartender friends e-mail Rush and Molloy, Gawker, all the places that ask for tips and sightings. Let's give the campaign a shot without Estime-just amateur hour. Just try it as Leif Dumont, horror helmer, and Thalia Krouch, wannabe actress/n.o.body.'"

"Please don't say that."

Thalia's left hand again moves to her neckline and rests on Williebelle's pearls. "Can't a person be a little depressed as she heads off to take a typing test?" She looks down at her feet. "Especially in brown pumps from Payless."

"I can fix this," Henry says. "I will. You signed a contract. Promises were made and terms were violated. I'm going to call Estime's lawyer as soon as I reread the file."

"Which terms exactly?" Thalia asks. "Because if you're going to sue based on the no-s.e.x clause, Leif might argue that it was more or less consensual."

"More or less?"

"Okay: my idea."

"Nonetheless," says Henry. "May I rue the day I ever signed off on this?"

She turns to the job of squirting more whipped cream into her mug, a napkin held against her interview s.h.i.+rt front. "It made a little sense," she finally says. "Leif came along, a fellow actor, my teacher's ex-student if not old paramour, which was an interesting footnote. I heard the plan, essentially Be my pal, pose as my girlfriend, no strings attached, we throw in an allowance. I mean, how can you not feel sorry for a guy stooping to this? So there was my rescue fantasy: I'd take him under my wing, he'd succeed, and then, with an Estime team behind me, pitching my previously unnoticed talents-presto, the limelight."

"What happened to your Estime team? Your piece of the action?"

Thalia shakes her head. "Doesn't happen when the hired hand can't get her name in boldface type on Page Six. Or any page."

"Then I won't call Estime. I'll call Leif."

"To say what? 'Where are you? Are your intentions honorable?' Please don't. Because my guess is he's confessed his sins to Caitlin and he's on a plane trying to convince her that his heart is true despite a little slip-up in the abstinence department."

"Why does everyone confess everything to everybody these days?" Henry asks.

Leif is not on a plane heading west to make things right with Caitlin, but one flight down, knocking on the maisonette's front door. When she doesn't answer, he calls Thalia's cell, which she has switched from vibrate to a festive Caribbean ring. She stares at the name and its 310 area code. "It's him," she says.

"I'll give you some privacy," says Henry.

She shakes her head, No, stay, and answers with a brisk "Thalia Archer."

After a moment, and clearly for Henry's edification, she repeats, "You're at my door? Sorry. I'm not home. I'm meeting with my lawyer." She listens, twists her mouth this way and that. "Yes, actually, that does mean I'm upstairs. But I'd like Henry to be present. He has some serious concerns about, um ... violated codicils."

Another pause. "Afterward," she answers, her voice no longer brittle. "Maybe we can go downstairs for that conversation."

She hangs up, excuses herself, and disappears into the powder room. When she emerges, her hair has been newly tousled and her cheeks are pinker, pinch marks evident. "You need some basic ladies' grooming aids," she says.

When the doorbell rings, Thalia says, "I'm actually nervous. How ridiculous is that?"

"I'll get it," says Henry. "You wait in the parlor."

He opens the door to find Leif in a suit, tie, no diamond studs in his earlobes, and a blue baseball cap that says "L.A." "Thalia's in the parlor," he says.

"I think I'm supposed to talk to you first."

Henry, though unprepared, realizes he's never before spoken with Leif alone and shouldn't squander the opportunity. "Quite right," he says. "This way," and leads him past the parlor, past a puzzled Thalia, into the library.

Leif has already taken off his cap. His hair is coming in, an uneven sprouting of lackl.u.s.ter brown going gray. He doesn't sit or speak. Henry motions to the couch and says, "I guess you're waiting for me to ask what happened."

"Which part?"

Henry says, "Let's start at the end and work backward."

"The club," says Leif.

"You stormed off. And that was the last contact you've had with Thalia. Is that correct?"

Leif says, "I didn't storm off. I put her into the limo and then I left, which is what you do when you get the message, big-time."

"She a.s.sumed you were furious."

Henry hasn't closed the door to either the library or the parlor. In seconds, Thalia materializes, sits down on the couch, folds her arms across her chest, and says, "Go on. I'm listening."

Henry watches Leif. His face and ears turn the red of past mortifications.

"Henry's asking about the night at the Box," Leif says.

"Your disappearing into the night. I heard."

"That's as far as we got."

"Do you not think that was rude? Not to mention loutish? Especially after accusing me of using you?"

Leif says, "I do. I also think, maybe, this was the conversation we were going to have downstairs."

Henry says, "I can leave."

Thalia says, "Henry can stay. He knows what happened. And I mean ev-ry-thing"

Leif closes his eyes, returns his Dodgers cap to his head, pulls it low on his forehead, and exhales an exasperated breath.

"He's my adviser in all matters," Thalia continues. "Didn't you think it would come out sooner or later as we both tried to figure out what went so wrong?"

Leif stands. "I get it," he says. "'What. Went. So. Wrong.' That's all I needed to know. Thank you. I'll see myself out."

Henry says, "Now wait a minute. Thalia? Would you like to rephrase anything you just said?"

Leif, already in the doorway, does not sit down, but stands his ground, his back stubbornly turned to his host and hostess.

Henry says, "I have to confess, I'm totally baffled. The corporate lawyer in me would say, 'This was a contract for six full months, so what happened? We never discussed or agreed to a trial period during which the company would a.s.sess whether its publicity goals were being met.'"

"Nice, dry point," says Thalia.

"On the other hand, when I see this through the eyes of a divorce lawyer-"

"Which you're not," says Thalia.

"I meant, as someone who has negotiated the breakups of many partners.h.i.+ps, there's always the personal side that needs to be addressed. And when it involves my daughter-"

"Miss Blabbermouth," says Leif. "Miss Kiss and Tell."

"Please turn around," says Thalia. "It's very annoying to talk to someone's back. And by the way, nice suit."

Nice suit! Henry watches Leif closely. He thinks, However that strikes him, whatever expression I see on his face will tell me exactly what I need to know about Leif Dumont.

Leif does turn around in a manner that enlightens, in a manner that Henry will later describe to Todd as key. What he witnesses is a pivot and a smile-not a military about-face but a showman's spin-and without question it makes Thalia laugh.

36. A Little Mea Culpa.

DENISE SENDS HENRY a cactus dish garden. The card accompanying it says, "9B officially mine. I'm very grateful. Love, Your Enemy. P.S. Can't people compartmentalize?"

He calls her and asks what her cryptic postscript means.

"First of all: h.e.l.lo. I didn't know whether I'd ever hear from you again. And secondly, I thought it was obvious: There's me, there's you, there's the various satellites in our lives-"

"Do you mean your boyfriend?"

"And yours and Thalia's. No one's aiming for one big happy functional family or even one big Thanksgiving dinner. If you don't see what I see in Eddie, fine. He's sensitive to that. He can have a night out with the guys while I roast a chicken for you and your favorite child once in a while. Not every week. Not even once a month. Well, maybe once a month. And Todd, too. How is Todd?"

"Good," says Henry. "Very good."

"You're welcome, by the way: You two are my one successful fix-up in a lifetime of disastrous matchmaking. And I hope you know how lucky you are to end up with someone whom people like. That's not so easy to accomplish in this world. Believe me, I know that Eddie's no one's cup of tea except mine-and that's on a good day-but you remember what loneliness feels like, right? A warm body, and handy around the house? And get this: The mountains came to Mohammed. Can we still say that? I let the sons back into the apartment to get some of their childhood memorabilia, and the Pica.s.so, which I never liked anyway. And the Crock-Pot, which Glenn Junior claimed his father wanted him to have. Of course I waited until the rooms were repainted-ironically by Public Enemy Number One, Eddie Pelletier."

Henry asks, "What did you have in mind, Denise? What format for reintegrating yourself? Just roasting a chicken once a month?"

"I'm starting small. Nothing big, because I know her value system, and I know she likes stuff from the junk heap."

"Such as?"

"I've had my eyes open, style- and taste-wise," Denise says. "I've made a thousand mistakes, but honestly, don't you think I'd be a fabulous personal shopper? You don't need a degree for that, or even experience outside your own closet."

"A garment, then?" he asks.

"I found it at a vintage store on Thompson Street, which, to start with, who shops in SoHo? I went there with a mission and came back with a pair of opera gloves, black velvet, past the elbow, with pearl b.u.t.tons at the wrist, only one missing, very Bette Davis. I think they say black-tie event at the Kennedy Center, circa the Eisenhower Administration"

Henry doesn't comment or correct, except to ask, "Then what? How do you see a pair of gloves leading to a rapprochement?"

"Can you help me with that?" Denise asks. "I thought you'd come up with a really good line like, 'These had your name all over them.' Only better than that. Something a little more emotionally charged, with a little mea culpa thrown in."

Henry says, "I know it's not your style, but I would just send the gloves with a note that said, 'Thinking of you. Love, Mother.' Or 'Mom.' I can't imagine Thalia wouldn't respond, even if it's just a couple of words in an e-mail."

"I'll drop them off today! Albert Einstein loves a taxi ride through the park."

"Mail them," Henry advises. "First you might consider replacing the missing b.u.t.ton."

"I did. It's in its own little envelope. It's not an exact match, but close enough. I hope she has an occasion to wear them. Oh, I just got a flash-they'd be the perfect accessory, something old, if she ever marries Count Dracula."

How much can he confide without betraying Thalia's trust? "I'd be very careful with that," he warns.

Epilogue.

LILLIAN IS FINE with Todd's moving to West 75th Street. She is hoping for a wedding or something comparable, whatever civil thing the state of New York allows between two men who const.i.tute, in her opinion, a match made in heaven. She expresses relief, probably an untruth, over finally emptying her nest. "People were always shocked when I told them my adult son lived at home, especially when I mentioned your age. Now? You know what I say? 'He's closer to work, living in a beautiful place with his boyfriend, or should I use partner? I don't beat around the bush anymore, no matter what kind of person I'm telling. I say, 'He's very happy, which makes me happy. Aren't I lucky to have my only child seven blocks away?'"

Besides the obvious benefits of having Todd under the same roof, Henry has gained the taste, skill, and employee discount helpful in renovating a drab maisonette. Todd doodles on graph paper in his office, Williebelle's old room, working on a floor plan that borrows 750 square feet from the laundry room, to be integrated into Thalia's apartment. She needs more s.p.a.ce.

Henry's initial reaction was dismay that a smart, sophisticated woman would be so careless, so cavalier, so unsafe in matters expressly and contractually proscribed. Call it good luck, good karma, or the G.o.ds smiling down on Henry Archer, but all is well, better than well: The careless parties were healthy, uninfected, and best of all, one of them was ovulating. After somber discussions over the course of two tense weeks about alternatives, Thalia invites Henry to her kitchen for takeout Indian food. The first sign of hope is the half gallon of milk he spots in her refrigerator. Then, as soon as he's seated, she excuses herself and returns with a wrapped package. "Here," she says, "knowing you, you'll want one of these upstairs." The paper is yellow and mint green, and nestled inside a Payless s...o...b..x is a receiver for a baby monitor. For months to come, she threatens to call the baby Williebelle, regardless of s.e.x. He's learned to smile and let it go.

Henry and Todd secretly confess their worries, admittedly superficial, that the baby will be long and lanky with a bony cranium and an undetectable sense of humor, but the first astonis.h.i.+ng ultrasound is almost photographic, revealing a round face, beatific, in the way of Thalia's baby pictures. Once Leif ascertains that he is, indeed, the baby's father, he rings the doorbell, upstairs, and asks Henry and Todd for Thalia's hand in marriage.

"Absolutely could not say," Henry tells him. "But believe me, I deeply appreciate the gesture."

"Whatever happened with the Beverly Hills girlfriend?" Todd asks, serving drinks, then ordering in paninis as the three men get a little drunk discussing potential family configurations.

Leif says-employing irony, much appreciated and later quoted to Thalia-"It must be over. I was banished from her Facebook page."

"This Caitlin business didn't inspire great confidence in your judgment," says Henry.

"I totally agree," says Leif. "And not that I'm proud of it, but did you ever meet anyone who fixed what happened to you in high school-hot, out of your league, wouldn't have given you the time of day, then suddenly wants to be your girlfriend? Despite the little voice inside you saying, 'This is never going to work'? That's where Caitlin came from-my fifteen-year-old marooned-in-the-cafeteria self."

"Denise Wales for me," says Henry.

"Tyrone Sanborne for me," says Todd. "Who hasn't had that experience?"

"My parents want to meet Thalia," says Leif.

"That is adorable," says Todd. "And my mother is dying to meet you. Not to mention Denise, who claims to have unearthed Thalia's entire layette."

Henry says, "Gentlemen. It's early-"