Though still officially summer, in mid-September, with a crisp chill in the air, it was feeling like fall in the city. At half past ten in the evening, Kate Eldridge left the restaurant with her husband, Rick, after a dinner with her father-in-law, Mr. Justin Eldridge, an old-fashioned, seventy-eight-year-old Wall Street tycoon. Meals at Alain Ducasse in the Essex House on the West Side of Manhattan were always elegant and engaging, but the exclusive clientele tended to linger long after the dessert and coffee were served and the bill was paid—and tonight was no exception. Kate had work tomorrow and after putting in a full day, she was tired. But no matter how exhausted she might be, she rarely missed an opportunity to be among the have-mores, like Justin Eldridge and his pals. Justin made it big during the raging bull markets of the last century, punctuated by judicious short selling. For now, Mr. Eldridge’s personal fortune had reached half a billion dollars. Spending quality time with Justin and basking in the reflective glow of his big money would be the highlight of Kate’s day, week, maybe even month. Kate treasured her membership by marriage—attenuated as it was—to the exclusive fraternity to which Mr. Eldridge belonged, the mega rich power brokers of American finance. Even before she married Rick, Kate was in awe of the sway held by his dad. Back then, Kate looked forward to her life, not only as a wife, but as Justin’s daughter-inlaw, nestled safely within the ambit of his private clique of privilege, power, and connectedness.

For Kate, tonight’s feast was particularly enjoyable because the present—and third—Mrs. Justin Eldridge was absent thanks to “Fashion Week” commitments. Rose’s couture purchases increased with age and her unbounded need to spend her husband’s money. This need was generally gratified, yet curiously, never satisfied. When anyone would remark on her charmed life, Rose would comment that it wasn’t so great, that John Kluge’s ex-wife had a larger allowance than she did as Justin’s current spouse. Rose’s perpetual state of discontent amazed Kate. After all, Rose had every material thing anyone could ever dream of. Although she had no respect for her often absent stepmother-in-law, Kate harbored a secret envy of this woman’s life, no fuss, no muss, just luncheons with the women who lunch and chauffeur driven shopping sprees on Worth Avenue, Fifth Avenue, or Rodeo Drive, depending upon which of Justin’s residences Rose was occupying at the time.

As far as Kate was concerned, Rose had attained a state of fiscal nirvana, an endless supply of funds with no accountability. Kate puzzled at how Rose could be, and was so often, utterly unfulfilled and miserable. Her enduring discontent made Kate wonder whether, contrary to her own firmly held personal beliefs, money couldn’t buy happiness after all. Kate recalled her mom saying to her, “Remember, it’s just as easy to love a rich man as a poor one.” Kate shuddered at the thought that someone sitting on “Easy Street,” like Rose, could be so unhappy. But it wasn’t Kate’s problem to ponder what made Rose tick, or didn’t. With Rose off and spending, Kate lavished in Justin’s attention as she dined with the elite and the chosen few. Evenings like this could still justify the loneliness she suffered in wedlock to Rick. For now at least, the Eldridge myth was her reality, and Kate loved it.

The Eldridges left The Essex House together. Their dinner companions had parted company at the door and proceeded to their own cars lined up at the curb outside the hotel. Justin, Kate, and Kate’s husband Rick, entered Justin’s custom-made black Mercedes limousine awaiting them. Mr. Eldridge instructed Rusty, his driver of twenty years, to drop him off at his apartment—this one, a deluxe triplex on Central Park East—and then, “take the kids home.” The limousine approached Mr. Eldridge’s building in what seemed like no time. Justin bid farewell to Rick and then leaned over, kissed Kate on her forehead good-bye, and told her that she was a perfect little darling tonight and that she looked lovely, as always. Ah, now she felt protected, privileged, and powerful. At this moment everything and anything seemed possible. The world was her diamond and she wished this feeling could last forever.

But after Mr. Eldridge left the limousine, Kate was left in the silent brooding presence of her husband, Rick, sitting on the opposite side of the limousine’s bench seat. As Rusty drove to their apartment on the Upper East Side, Kate leaned forward to reach for the button on the electronic control panel above her head to raise the glass partition between the passenger cabin of the limousine and Rusty’s compartment. She appreciated having Rusty to talk to as he drove the younger Eldridges home after an exquisite evening out, but for now, she needed privacy to call her secretary on her cell phone. And while Rusty was always listening, Rick never was. Rick remained silent and detached as Kate pressed the tiny keypad to reach Peg at home.

“Hello, Peg. It’s Kate. Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I thought we should review tomorrow’s schedule. I’ll be in court all day and I just thought of some things I’ll need you to coordinate for me.”
“It’s okay,” Peg replied.
“I need you to schedule appointments for me tomorrow after five.” Kate began rolling out the list of to-dos for the next day.
Peg assured Kate, “Fine. Good luck before Judge White. I know you have your hands full with this one. But, don’t worry, I’ll hold down the fort.”

Kate was relieved after speaking with her assistant. Kate could always count on Peg to do whatever was required, when it was required, even if Kate wasn’t on the premises at the critical time of need. Thank God. Given her line of work, Kate needed all the help she could get. After rattling off Peg’s agenda for the next day, and saying thanks and good-bye, Kate pondered her profession—divorce lawyer—and the constant unhappiness, dissatisfaction, resentment, anger, and loss she encountered every day, all day. It was exhausting to think about.

Kate had been at it for years, but it seemed her profession was sinking lower and lower. While people didn’t like lawyers in general, they held outright contempt for divorce attorneys in particular. And no one, not even her own clients, felt compelled to hide this sentiment from Kate. It didn’t bother her so much before. But now, the never-ending bitterness of the practice was beginning to take its toll as the privileged feelings from dinner were extinguished. Oh well, this is what she chose those many years ago. She’d run with it as long as she could. Plus, the money was good. Interesting, that “money” in the universal sense, was still an issue for her. She thought it wouldn’t be now, but it was and had always been for almost as long as she could remember.

“Thinking about work?” Kate’s husband queried from the other end of the limo’s back bench.

The intrusion interrupted Kate’s secret thoughts. It was practically the first time he addressed her all evening. It seemed like a friendly overture, and her private reflections were not all that joyous, so Kate responded in a polite, though guarded manner. After all, one could never tell when such spousal exchanges would result in a full-scale battle royale.

“Well…yes. I have a trial tomorrow where no one will win. Plus, I have the pleasure of doing battle before the Honorable Max White, who hates my client. Bless his heart.” The word “heart” was dropped in a thinly veiled scornful tone that was part cynicism and part an overture for some empathy.

This trial would be difficult, not because of the legal issues presented, but because of the actors involved in this modern version of an ancient Greek tragedy. Tomorrow’s players consisted of the antagonistic adversary, the angry clients, the frightened witnesses, and perhaps most dangerous, the desensitized judge who would decide the fate of the entire cast in accordance with his personal objective of calendar expediency.Rick sat silently, completely missing the point, so Kate continued the litany.

“Can you imagine? I mean, okay, so my guy committed adultery with his seventeen-year-old son’s sixteen-year-old girlfriend in a romance that my client had arranged in such a way so this girl could be around the house, and even brought on family trips, without arousing anyone’s suspicion of her position as my client’s mistress. So what if ‘the girl’ had to engage in sex and feign a romance with my client’s son as part of the charade. So what if the son tried to kill himself when he found out what his own father had done at his expense, just so dad could have ‘the girl’ at his disposal for sex in the bathroom of the marital home while the rest of the family members were outside lazing around the pool. So what if my client’s wife suffered a nervous breakdown when she learned what her husband of twenty-seven years had orchestrated right under her nose, in her own household, and at her son’s, their son’s, expense.”
Rick didn’t even bother to affect interest. Unfazed, Kate forged on.
“And as horrible as all that sounds, most of that stuff doesn’t really matter much. It’s really all about the pain that the money can buy. So, that’s what I’ll do tomorrow—fight about the money and cause more pain as I zealously represent my client, who just happens to personify the scum of humanity.”
“Well, it sounds like you have it all under control, as usual.” Rick remarked, clearly unconcerned about the case or the feelings of an unknown rich man’s wife, or even his own, for that matter.
“Well, I’m prepared, if that’s what you mean. But the more I do this, I begin to feel like I can’t wash it off when I shower at night… You know what they say, when you work in shit, you begin to stink? That’s how I feel.” Kate sighed, half complaining, half reporting. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was growing weary of the daily wars, but she still had to work to maintain their lifestyle to which she had always aspired.

Unfortunately, save the apartment, some great vacations, and an occasional night like tonight, Kate hadn’t benefited all that much from the Eldridge name. She made a good living, but Kate and Rick were clearly the poor relations by comparison, receiving alms— though good ones—at her father’s-in-law sufferance. And if that weren’t bad enough, Rick was growing more and more aloof toward her in the past year. Kate now felt alone, even with Rick physically sitting there beside her in the back of his dad’s Mercedes limo. Continuing home, angry, resentful, but on some level, pleased with what she saw, Kate looked down to her left hand and admired a six and a half carat diamond and platinum engagement ring perched there. She’d been wearing it since Rick proposed more than a decade ago, when Kate was still young, expectant, and optimistic about the life upon which she was sure she would embark. To Kate, that ring portended a Town & Country lifestyle she had yearned for—and she almost had it.

As the limo drew near her neighborhood, Kate’s attention snapped back to the present. She was thinking how nice it was to have Rusty available on nights like these so she and Rick didn’t have to worry about taking a cab or walking. A private limo was the only way the fabulously rich of New York traveled—to heck with fuel prices. Fabulously rich. Those words echoed in Kate’s brain. Isn’t that what she always wanted to be and be near? Money, power, privilege. Yes, all things considered, her life wasn’t dreadful, and she did like these nice rides in the limo after a decent thousand dollar meal. Who wouldn’t?

Through the dark tinted glass of the limo windows, Kate could see the city lights outside and it made her wonder what her future held. Was her life now as good as it got—crumbs from Justin and indifference from her husband? Kate heard a lyric to old song in her head, “Is this all there is?” She decided she asked too many questions of herself. With her husband six feet away, Kate tried to enjoy the ride as the limo headed for home. She had to remember that in large measure, she had succeeded. Long ago she had set her goals. Now, she had met them. At least that is what anyone would think, including herself—if she didn’t delve too deeply. The limo finally rolled up to curb in front of the fifteen-story building on the corner of Madison and 72nd Street. She and Rick lived in a three bedroom condominium apartment purchased with some of Kate’s pre-marital savings and a substantial, financially complicated wedding gift from Mr. and Mrs. Justin Eldridge. As the building attendant opened the shiny back door of the Mercedes, she and Rick bade Rusty good-bye and slid out from the back seats onto the sidewalk. They passed through the revolving doorway into the marble lobby. After exiting the elevator on the ninth landing, Kate and Rick entered the corridor leading to their condo, one of only four on their floor.

Rick slipped the key into the lock, turned the knob, and unceremoniously opened the door for Kate. As she entered, the pungent smell of disinfectant mingled with lemon scent reminded her that the housekeepers were there today. The mail was separated on the foyer table. Fresh flowers were placed in the Steuben crystal vase on the living room mantle piece. Everything was neat and polished and sparkling clean. The apartment looked like it had been prepped by a photographer’s stylist for a featured spread in Architectural Digest.

Even if everything else was bad, entering this home of ivory, taupe, and tan contrasted with lustrous wood furniture and the occasional gold leaf accent, gave Kate the feeling of immediate, muted luxury. Thanks was, as always, owed to Justin who had asked Rose to help decorate the place for “the kids” after they “bought” it. Rose did what was requested of her, spending piles of her husband’s cash while making her mark upon Kate’s new life as an Eldridge, way back when.

Rose’s imprint and Justin’s money dressed the apartment with the traditional, substantial, and very expensive furnishings found only in the homes of the ultra rich. Giving credit where credit was due, decorating—or more correctly, directing the decorator—was a task at which the senior Mrs. Eldridge excelled. And though Kate was excluded from the process, she admired Rose’s taste and appreciated the timeless, classic elegance of her home. At least, Kate would console herself; she would always have all this beauty around her. The master chamber, as exquisitely appointed as the rest of the quarters, contained an antique white, hand-painted Italian wood four-poster bed frame with matching armoire and chest of drawers, a settee covered with eggshell-tinted raw silk, and a concealed large screen color TV and DVD player. The master bed, now Kate’s, was topped by an ivory cashmere throw laid over custom Pratesi linens with a 482 thread count. Kate passed through the stately bedroom and entered her giant walk-in closet housing her “work armor,” ensembles bearing designer labels in varying shades of navy, putty, stone, and gray; all understated, elegant, well cut, and expensive. Kate ceremoniously shed her legal vestments and changed into her ancient college sweats. She pulled her long blond hair back into a ponytail and repaired to the bedroom study to review her opening statement and her notes for direct and cross examinations in the matter of Frankl v. Frankl, tomorrow’s theater of battle. In the background, she could hear her husband go to the guest room—resplendent in traditional Ralph Lauren horsy-set motif—and close the door.

The spare room had become Rick’s bedroom three years ago. This arrangement was a secret. Not even the couple spoke of it. By all outward accounts, Kate had caught herself a good one—tall, generically handsome husband, the scion of a wealthy family with a formidable name and vast, powerful connections. No one knew the real story. For tonight, she didn’t care to dwell on it either. Instead, with the same force she mustered to study for a bar exam, she delved into the lives of the warring Frankls and blocked out the lives of the Eldridges, the younger, Kate and Rick. That’s usually what she did and it worked pretty well, until now.