CHAPTER 23
Joe
As upsetting as our visit to Montclair was, I think it brought Cate and me closer. I certainly understood her better than I had before, so many things crystallizing, including her motivation to drop out of high school and move to the city. I also got why she had always resisted romantic relationships, doing her best to keep men at arm’s length, the way she had with me in the beginning. Even now, she didn’t want to talk about what had happened with her mother and Chip, and whenever I tried to broach the subject, she would shut down. I decided I should leave it alone for a while, giving her time to work through what she was feeling.
About two weeks later, I tried again.
“Cate, can I ask you something? About your mother and Chip?” I asked, just after we’d made love. She was lying in my arms, and I felt her body tense.
“Okay,” she said, sounding more than a little reluctant.
“Growing up…did you ever try to get help? Like from a teacher or counselor or Wendy’s parents?”
“No,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I was too afraid.”
I wrapped my arms more tightly around her, then said, “Afraid that he’d hurt you and your mom?”
“Not me. But her. And he would have,” she said. “For sure.”
“Did he ever hit you?”
“No,” I said. “For the most part it was just verbal abuse. But I always felt that he was one trigger away from smacking me around, too. I think he held that over my mom’s head as another way to control her. If she didn’t play ball, I was next.”
“Damn,” I said under my breath, feeling a fresh surge of rage toward Chip. Honestly, I was afraid of what I might do to him if I ever saw him again.
“And anyway,” Cate said. “If I had told? Nothing would have happened to him. He would have denied it. Called me a liar. It would have been my word against his. And he’s a cop—”
“But people would have seen the cuts and bruises,” I said, feeling nauseous. “They’d have to believe you.”
“No they wouldn’t, Joe,” she said. “That’s not how this stuff works. My mom would have denied it and given everyone her bullshit about falling down the steps…and at that point, what could anyone do? They can’t make her admit it.”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. It was a pattern I’d seen and heard about, both anecdotally and in the course of my job. It was probably why my colleagues who worked on domestic violence cases seemed to burn out the quickest, not to mention the social workers, who did the really soul-crushing work.
“Plus, if I’m totally honest—” Cate hesitated. “It wasn’t just the fear of Chip. It was also a fear of what people would think of my mom and me. I know that sounds bizarre…. It does to me, too, now that I’m older and away from it.”
“What do you mean? They’d just think you were victims…of something terrible.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Exactly. But I didn’t want to be a victim. I was ashamed.” She was silent for several seconds, then lowered her voice and said, “On some level, I still am.”
“Oh, Cate. You have nothing to be ashamed of!”
“I know that rationally,” she said. “But it always felt like a social class thing to me—”
“That’s not true,” I said as emphatically as I could. “Domestic violence doesn’t discriminate.”
“I know that now. But as a kid—I couldn’t see it. And I just felt so powerless. I think I internalized a lot of things that Chip was telling me…. That I was dumb. That I’d never amount to anything. It was hard not to feel…worthless.”
“When did that change?” I said. “As soon as you left home?”
She didn’t answer right away, but I could hear her breathing—and also feel her chest rising and falling against mine. “It took a long time. A very long time,” she finally said. “And sometimes…I can still hear him…and I still believe him.”
“Oh my God, Cate, no. You’re so amazing—”
“I’m really not, though, Joe. You always say that. And I appreciate it—I really do. I love that you see me that way. But if I were amazing, I would have gotten my mom out of this situation.”
“You just said yourself it’s not that easy—”
“I know, but I still feel like I failed her,” she said. “Elna disagrees—she blames my mom so much.”
“For not leaving on her own?”
“Exactly. On some level, I think she’s right. I believe all that stuff about how we are each the captain of our own ship or whatever. That you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. But she’s my mother, you know?”
“I know,” I said, kissing her forehead. “I feel like we should try to do something. We could report him…. It would be his word against ours—he’d lose that battle.”
“Yes. But at what cost? What would he do to my mom?”
“We could get a restraining order—”
“Like those work.”
“We could get her full-time security—”
“Believe me, I’ve thought about all of that. Every few months, I hatch a new plan. But the other night?…Something snapped inside me, and I started to think that Elna really is right. How could my mom do this to herself? How could she have let me live that way? I mean, God…I think about having children…I just can’t imagine allowing someone to treat my child that way.”
“I know, baby…I think a lot about that stuff, too, lately. Having kids,” I said, stroking her hair. “And how I want to do things differently than my mother.”
“Yeah. But I feel like she’s done a pretty good job. You’ve turned out really well. And it doesn’t seem like you should have,” she said. I could tell she was smiling, but also serious.
“I know. She’s a good mother. She really is. But sometimes I resent all the Kingsley pressure and hype. I’m not going to do that to my kid—” I thought for a second, then added, “Of course, with my mediocre accomplishments, some of that pressure will be diluted.”
I laughed, but Cate didn’t. “Don’t, Joe,” she said. “Don’t put yourself down. I don’t know a better man.”
“Wow,” I said. “Do you mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
She tilted her head up and gave me a soft, soulful kiss that made my heart explode.
—
The rest of the summer passed both blissfully and uneventfully. There was no further drama with our families, in part because we limited contact with both. Cate called to check on her mother now and then but didn’t make any attempts to see her and I didn’t pressure her. In the back of my mind, I fantasized about a rescue or revenge mission, but for now I safeguarded Cate’s mental health and prioritized our relationship.
Meanwhile, Cate acclimated to her growing fame. She still despised and feared the paparazzi, and we erred on the side of keeping a low profile, but we weren’t in hiding, either. We freely went to restaurants and bars, Broadway shows and baseball games. We even attended the occasional benefit or gala or fundraiser together, the sort of boring events I’d been saying no to for months. For a shy person, Cate was a natural at working a room and could turn on her charisma like a light switch. One moment, she’d be sitting anxiously in the back of a town car, dreading the function to come, and in the next, she was dazzling celebrities and politicians.
The key to her charm, I think, was that she was always so authentically herself. Despite her insecurities, she never overcompensated by trying to impress anyone, nor did she try to hide behind me. Instead, she mingled on her own, deflecting the fawning that came with being my girlfriend while showing genuine interest in others. Nobody could accuse her of being my arm candy. If anything, I could feel myself becoming dependent on her. I couldn’t stand to be away from her, and even accompanied her on a few of her business trips to London.
Yet as intense and all-consuming as our relationship was, it never felt unhealthy or obsessive. Before her, I had believed that passion came with a price. That you had to choose between being madly in love and being at peace. With Cate, I had both, and it was magic.
—
As summer faded into fall and Cate and I entered our third season together, I decided it was time to get a ring—that I couldn’t wait any longer to officially begin our life together. I wasn’t sure what our future would look like, but I knew we would define it together—our way.
I didn’t think it was a good idea to ask her mother for her hand in marriage, but an old-fashioned part of me wanted to ask someone. So I invited Elna to lunch, the two of us meeting at Rao’s in East Harlem, one of my favorite spots.
Just to be on the safe side, I brought a stack of file folders with me, spreading them out on the table between us so it would look like a working lunch. The last thing I needed was for the tabloids to accuse me of cheating on Cate with a model.
Elna laughed, clearly aware of what I was doing, then said, “Nice props.”
“One can never be too careful.”
“No,” Elna said. “One cannot.”
“So,” I said, smiling. “I think you might know why we’re here.”
“Yes,” she said. “I think I might.”
“I’m going to ask Cate to marry me.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said, but the look on her face was so inscrutable that it worried me.
“You think so?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Then why aren’t you smiling?”
“Because I’m thinking…this is heavy stuff. Cate’s life will change. I mean, it already has—but it will really change. Forever.”
I swallowed, feeling nervous. The conversation wasn’t going exactly the way I’d hoped. “Yeah. That’s kind of the idea of marriage,” I said, forcing a smile. “Life will change for both of us. Hopefully for the better.”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Hopefully.”
“Okay, Elna. You’re scaring me here,” I said.
“I don’t mean to scare you,” she said, her expression softening a little. “I’m happy for you. For both of you.”
“So I have your blessing?”
She smiled. “Yes, of course you do.”
I gave a sigh of relief, then said, “Do you think she’ll say yes?”
“I think it’s very likely,” Elna said.
“But not a sure thing?”
“Nothing’s a sure thing with Cate,” she said. “I think you know that by now.”
I nodded, then asked if she’d help me pick out a ring.
“Oh, shit,” Elna said, shaking her head and laughing. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask me that…. I have no idea what to tell you.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. “Isn’t that something girls discuss?”
“Maybe most girls…but not us.”
“Shit,” I said. “So…no guesses on her favorite cut of diamond?”
“Well, I’d say something classic…but not too predictable or boring.”
“Is a round cut boring or classic?” I asked.
“I’d say it’s classic. But I don’t know…maybe a little boring, too?”
“Okay,” I said, laughing. “You do realize that you’re zero help here, right?”
She smiled and shrugged. “I told you. It’s not my thing.”
“Would Curtis know?”
“Probably. But you can’t ask Curtis! He can’t keep a secret to save his life.”
“Okay. What about Wendy?”
Elna made a face. “I’m not a huge Wendy fan, but it’s actually not a bad idea…. I feel like it’s the kind of thing she’d have discussed with Cate—”
“Do you think you could get me her number?”
“Yes,” she said. “Just be careful. Wendy’s the type to parlay you asking her ring advice into taking the credit for your entire marriage—and acting like she’s your best friend forever.”
“Yeah. But I already have a best friend,” I said, grinning. “And I’m fixin’ to marry her.”
—
That evening, I called Wendy and asked if she was coming into the city anytime soon, that I’d love to meet up with her for coffee.
“Sure! How’s tomorrow?” she said.
“Great,” I said. “Please don’t tell Cate that we spoke.”
“Mum’s the word,” she said.
The following afternoon, we met in a coffee shop near Madison Square Park. I cut right to the chase. “I need some ring advice,” I said.
“Oh my gosh! This is so exciting!” Her voice was loud, and I caught the barista glancing over at us.
I didn’t know Wendy well enough to shush her, but I leaned toward her and lowered my voice, hoping she’d get the hint. “Yeah. I’m so excited. But this is obviously a huge secret. Nobody can know about this conversation.”
“Of course not!” she said, sitting up as straight as she could. “And I’m so honored that you’d come to me. Truly. This is amazing. Thrilling.”
I didn’t burst her bubble by telling her that I’d asked Elna first. I just said, “I know how close you and Cate are—and how long you’ve known her.”
“Yes. Cate is like a sister to me,” Wendy said, tearing up. “Truly. I just love her to pieces, and I’m so happy she’s getting the fairy tale—and Prince Charming—that she deserves.”
I nodded and smiled but was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. There was something about the words fairy tale and Prince Charming that came off as slightly condescending toward Cate. I told myself I was being too critical and pressed onward. “So…thoughts on the ring?”
“Well, let’s see…I know Cate loves mine,” Wendy said. She put her hand on the table, then stared down at a mammoth rectangular stone that looked more like glass than a diamond.
“It’s very pretty,” I said, though the last thing I was going to do was copy Wendy’s ring.
“Thank you. My husband did a great job. It’s an emerald cut. Fun fact: less than three percent of the world’s diamonds are emerald cut. So, they’re the rarest…which makes them the most expensive….”
I nodded and smiled.
“Oh—and good news. Cate tried it on once, and it fit her to perfection. So, we know her ring size is a six and a half!” Her voice was loud again, and this time I put my finger to my lips.
“Oops! Sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay. We just want to be careful.”
“Oh, totally.”
“So. She’s never mentioned her favorite cut?”
“Hmm,” Wendy said. “Would you believe that I can’t recall a single instance? Which is so strange. I mean—I had mine picked out by the time I had my first kiss!”
I nodded, glad that Cate wasn’t like that, even though it made my project trickier.
“My only advice?” Wendy said with a smirk.
“What’s that?” I said.
“Go big or go home, ya know?” She laughed, then said, “Also, don’t do a pear, marquis, or God forbid, heart-shaped. Barf.”
“Thank you,” I said, nodding and smiling. “This is all very helpful.”
“It’s my pleasure. And I couldn’t be more thrilled for her! I mean—gah! Who would have thunk it! Talk about a Cinderella story.”
“Well, that’s sweet. But I’m the lucky one,” I said.
Wendy nodded, looking earnest. “Yes. You really are. And she’ll love whatever you give her.”
“I hope so.”
“Hey, this is just a thought, but did you ever think about a family ring? Like an heirloom of some kind?”
“Yeah…I have…But I don’t know…I think Cate and I like the idea of a fresh start,” I said, thinking that both of us wanted to escape the story lines of our pasts.
Incidentally, I also was a little ready to escape Wendy. I could tell her heart was in the right place, and that she was genuinely happy for Cate. But I still left the coffee shop feeling slightly uneasy.
By the time I got home, it hit me. Cate wouldn’t have wanted me to poll her friends about the ring. She’d want me to pick it out myself, completely on my own. Even if I got it wrong, it would be right.
—
About a week later, I put on a baseball cap and sunglasses, made sure I wasn’t being followed, and walked into Harry Winston for my after-hours appointment with an older gentleman named Horace. I knew I’d be paying more than I would in the diamond district, but it felt right and romantic.
Horace immediately put me at ease with both his knowledge and his discretion, giving me a full tutorial on diamonds while assuring me that there would be no leaks. After we’d covered those basics, he asked me to tell him about Cate.
“Well, she’s wonderful,” I said. “But I assume you’re asking about her taste in jewelry?”
“Yes,” Horace said. “Tell me about her style.”
“She actually doesn’t wear much jewelry,” I said, describing the few pieces that she wore on a regular basis. Her Cartier watch was the only real staple, along with two pairs of stud earrings—diamonds and pearls—which she rotated. Other than that, she just wore an occasional gold bracelet.
“I see. Lovely,” Horace said, nodding approvingly. “It sounds like she’s quite understated…a minimalist.”
“Yes!” I said, knowing that I was beaming. “That’s exactly the word for it! She’s a minimalist. She sparkles, but she isn’t flashy.”
“Understood,” Horace said. “Well, you’ve come to the right place, Mr. Kingsley.”
I smiled, more excited by the second.
For the next hour, the two of us looked at diamonds of every shape and color, including a yellow one. They were all beautiful, but nothing seemed quite right for Cate. Then Horace mentioned an eternity band, and I perked up, intrigued by the name.
“What’s that?”
Horace told me it was a ring with uniform stones that went the whole way around the band, pointing out an example in a glass case.
“Are they considered classic?”
“Very,” Horace said, explaining that eternity bands traced back four thousand years to the ancient Egyptians, who were said to offer them as tokens of eternal love and life.
“Oh, wow. I love that.”
“Yes. They’re really beautiful. I must tell you, though. It’s highly unusual to go that route for an engagement ring. The eternity design is more common for a wedding or anniversary band. Most ladies prefer one significant stone for their engagement ring—”
“Yes. But Cate isn’t like most ladies,” I said.
“Yes. I’m quite sure she is not,” Horace said.
“I really like this idea,” I said, the wheels turning in my mind. “What if we mixed in another stone, too? Like alternated between a color and a diamond?”
“We could certainly do that. If you go that route, I’d recommend emeralds or sapphires. They are very sturdy stones.”
“I love the idea of sapphires,” I said. “To match her eyes.”
“Hmm. Yes. A diamond and sapphire eternity band,” Horace said, nodding. “That would be beautiful.”
“Would it still sparkle? I want a lot of sparkle.”
Horace nodded. “Indeed it would. For more sparkle, I would recommend round stones. It will be stunning and unique.”
“Yes. That’s what I want. Stunning and unique. Like Cate.”
“Well, we will make that happen for you, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Joe,” I said, grinning. “Please call me Joe.”
Horace smiled and said, “We will make that happen for you, Joe.”
“Thank you,” I said. “How long will it take?”
“Are you in a hurry?”
“Yes,” I said. “I actually am.”
“I’ll have it ready in a week.”