Authors: Joe McGinniss
Never Enough (10 page)
“I didn’t want to do it,” he said, “but I need the job.”
“Of course you do.”
She went back to the Movado store in Manchester the next day and bought him another $7,200 Concord Impresario.
It was only a couple of days later, July 18, that Rob had confronted her. In a tearful panic, she told Michael what had happened. “He grabbed me. He grabbed me by the face and then he spun me around and pushed me up against the wall and my head hit a picture hanging there and the picture fell down. I was screaming and crying and I was afraid the kids were going to hear. I’ve got a terrible pain in my side. He must have broken my ribs.”
Rob
ROCCO GATTA RETURNED TO STRATTON ON MONDAY, JULY
21. The house whose driveway he’d used in June was occupied, so he had to find another location along the side of Stone House Road. From his new vantage point he could observe only the entrance to the driveway, but that turned out to be enough. Once again, it was raining hard and winds were gusting when Del Priore’s blue van showed up at 9:20 p.m. The van pulled out of the driveway three and a half hours later.
Gatta called Frank Shea at home to report. It was 1:00 a.m. in New York, 1:00 p.m. in Hong Kong. Frank called Rob.
“Listen,” Rob said. “The next time it happens, let me know as soon as he arrives. I want to call the house while he’s there.”
On Tuesday and Wednesday, Rocco Gatta followed while Nancy took Zoe to day camp in the morning and then drove to Manchester to shop. On both days, she stopped at the Jelly Mill—a kitsch maven’s delight. She went back to Manchester on Thursday. Manchester was one of the biggest factory outlet centers in the Northeast. Nancy considered it her playground. She could have driven the fifteen-mile stretch of Route 11 between Londonderry and Manchester Depot with her eyes closed. Thursday morning was hot and humid. Showers were forecast for afternoon. Nancy went to the Jelly Mill, to the Levi’s outlet store, and to Carter’s for Kids. This was how she passed her days. This was what passed for meaning in her life. It didn’t have to be Madison Avenue in New York or Pacific Place or the IFC Mall in Hong Kong—any store with lights on and doors unlocked was a potential source of diversion and delight. She spent most of her waking hours trying to buy either or both.
Nancy didn’t see her constant shopping as an addiction. How could it be if it was so socially acceptable? Most of the bankers’ wives she’d met at Parkview talked primarily about what they owned and what they were planning to buy next, or about which exclusive resort they’d be going to on their next vacation. Because she fit right in, Nancy saw herself as normal. If you had it you had to flaunt it, or else others might suspect you did not have it. Nancy subscribed wholeheartedly to the Parkview notion that a woman was what she possessed. She knew she overdid it sometimes in order to provoke Rob, but he deserved it for being such a controlling, intrusive, hypercritical son of a bitch. It did not occur to her—or to Rob, for psychological insight was not a quality either he or Nancy possessed in abundance—that she might also have become such a compulsive, conspicuous acquirer in reaction to her mother’s lack of materialism, which Nancy had experienced as deprivation. In any event, she led Rocco Gatta a merry chase through the streets of Manchester and eventually back to Stratton Mountain.
To Gatta, Thursday night looked like an early one at 702 Stone House Drive. All inside lights were off by 9:20 p.m. He sat in the dark and waited. It was one hell of a way to grow old.
The blue van arrived at 10:40. Del Priore cut his lights before turning down the driveway. By the time he had parked at the bottom, Gatta was speed-dialing Frank Shea.
As it happened, Frank was speaking to Rob in Hong Kong at the time, telling him that another uneventful day and evening had passed at Stratton Mountain.
“Whoops, hold on, Rob. Rocco’s calling on my cell right now…Rob? Bingo! Del Priore just showed up.”
“Thanks, Frank. This is it. I’m going to call her right now.”
“Be careful.”
“Careful?”
“I know how upset you are, but remember: at this point, you’re the one who’s been wronged. You don’t want to say anything that could come back and bite you.”
Rob called the house. No one answered.
He called again. Still no answer.
He called Bryna. “He’s there, Bryna! Right now! He just got there and now Nancy won’t answer the phone!”
“Rob, take it easy. Try to stay calm.”
“Calm?
He’s right there:
in my house, with my wife, and she won’t answer the phone!”
“She probably turned the ringer off.”
“Oh, yeah? So they won’t be disturbed?”
“Don’t torture yourself, Rob. Whatever is happening is happening. You can deal with it later. There’s nothing you can do about it now.”
“I’m calling again.”
“Rob…”
He called again. No answer.
And again. The same.
And once more. Connie picked up.
“Connie, get Nancy, please, and tell her I need to talk to her right now.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kissel. I think she’s upstairs asleep.”
“She’s not asleep, Connie. Call her. I want to hear you call her up the stairs. Tell her to come down the goddamned stairs and come to the phone.”
He heard voices in the background. Connie came back to the phone. “Mrs. Kissel say she call you tomorrow. She not feeling okay.”
He hung up. He called Bryna. “I just talked to Connie. Nancy’s up in the bedroom with him and she won’t come to the phone.”
“Rob, even if she does, what good will it do?”
“I’ll let you know.”
He called back.
Fifteen minutes later, he called Frank Shea.
“I just talked to her.”
“Hold the phone, Rob. I’ve got Rocco calling on the cell…Rob? Yeah, I guess you must have talked to her. Rocco tells me Del Priore’s van just pulled out of the driveway. Fast.”
“No more surveillance, Frank. She’s coming home.”
“To Hong Kong?”
“Right away. She’ll fly out of JFK tomorrow night.”
“I guess that’s good news.”
“We’ll see.”
Nancy
Rob’s phone call changed everything. Nancy panicked when Connie knocked on the bedroom door. She was in an even worse state twenty minutes later when she ran back up the stairs after talking to Rob on his cell phone.
“You’ve got to get out of here right now!”
she told Michael. “I don’t know where he is. But he knows you’re here! He must be spying on us. He could turn up here any minute!”
Nancy couldn’t tell where Rob was calling from. He could be as close as the village at the foot of the hill.
“You’ve got to go, Michael, you’ve got to go!” She had turned pale and was gasping for breath. “Oh my God, I think I’m having an asthma attack. Hurry, Michael! He can’t find you here! Oh my God, I’m fucked. I don’t know what he’ll do to me. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
Michael drove away fast. The next day, Nancy and Zoe and Ethan and Connie drove to JFK and boarded a flight to Hong Kong.
Rob
BEFORE NANCY ARRIVED, ROB MET WITH SHARON SER, A
partner at Hampton, Winter and Glynn, which had just been named Hong Kong’s Matrimonial Law Firm of the Year. Ser, who had been educated at the London School of Economics, was vice chairman of the Hong Kong Family Law Association, a fellow of the International Academy of Matrimonial Lawyers, and a contributor to the
Credit Suisse Guide to Management of Wealth in Respect of Divorce and Financial Planning
.
Rob explained that his wife had “issues,” one of which was “low self-esteem.” He said that since the birth of their third child she’d become “distant, depressed, and unhappy.” He said he wanted to explore his options, including separation and divorce. His chief concern, he said, was custody of the children. It was a strange, attenuated conversation because Rob couldn’t bring himself to say that Nancy was having an affair.
His mood was quite different by the time he e-mailed Bryna on Wednesday, July 30, to tell her about Nancy’s return:
She was a little cold at the beginning, seeing how I would react. I met them at the airport. I was very easy going and nice. It was great to see the kids. I was and am not wearing my wedding ring. I took off the day from work, and spent all day with the kids and a lot with her.
She involved herself in everything we were doing…It felt like a family. She has been warmer than she has in over several years. She even went after my hand to hold it when we were in the playroom.
We talked a bit about me having surgery…she said she would come. I said it may not be the right thing given the circumstances. She said she was very confused as to why I would have her come back here to HK now, only to be leaving on Sunday or soon…She cried. Later, she got over it, but we haven’t talked about it again.
I am still waiting to hear from my doctor about details anyway. Meanwhile, I was shocked she wanted to go with me…I will not forget though the pain I have felt and the lies that have been told.
If this were how life was, I would be a very happy man. She is really fucking with my head. I love my kids. They told me never to go away again. And I love her, or the way it was 5 years ago, but there is so much shit to get through…
He called Bryna the next day to say Nancy was definitely coming with him to New York. “She really wants to be with me for the surgery. She feels I need her there, and she’s right.”
“Rob, do you really believe that?”
“Believe what?”
“That she want to go to New York just to be with
you
? I mean, I’m sure she cares about your surgery, but I’ll bet anything she’s thinking she can see Del Priore.”
“No, Bryna, that’s wrong. If you could have seen how she’s been these past few days—”
“Yeah, but Rob, how could you be forgetting that she was in the middle of an affair? She’s going to find a way to see that guy while you’re in the hospital.”
“She couldn’t be that cynical, Bryna. This can’t be an act.”
“I’m sorry, Rob. I think you’re making a big mistake.”
It had been a wet and dreary summer in New York, starting with the rainiest June in more than a hundred years. July brought fourteen more rainy days. And it was raining when Rob and Nancy arrived from Hong Kong on the evening of Saturday, August 2. They checked into their suite at the Pierre on Fifth Avenue and Sixty-first Street, overlooking Central Park.
Despite her double jet lag, Nancy went shopping the next day. While she was out, Rob did something extremely out of character: he wrote two pages of notes, in the tiny capital letters that were his trademark, about the state of his heart and mind, and about his perception of the state of his marriage.
I keep my ring in my pocket.
By taking it off I feel that I am emotionally protected against what I know and against how I feel.
The reminders of our marriage are out of sight, yet out of sight reminds me to remember.
To remember what got us here, to where we are today.
To remember never to forget.
Never to forget what we had, and
Never to forget that one cannot just wear a ring.
One has to work at it
The early years are easy and natural—
The love and the fun.
The later years? The kids are beautiful. Time is short.
Time is stretched and something has to give. Do we see it? Do we hear it?
Do we speak of it?
Communication, remembrances of each other, when we are together, what we love about each other, what we loved about each other, our time together, exploring each other—That’s what gives.
14 years is a long time.
Things get lost.
People change, communication is gone, feelings are hurt, sometimes the hurt is deep and painful.
People go astray
The hurt is so deep the whole body weeps.
The mind’s eye likes to torture—
between images of someone else and images of our love, our beautiful past.
But the love is stronger, the love is stronger. It felt right being back together. It’s time to try and focus.
Can we get it back, can we find a new place? It will be work for us both.
It is work to remember, work to be patient.
Work to change back to the way we started and to find a new place.
We had a love, a love through and through. We need to remember, we need to find.
That’s why I keep my ring in my pocket.
It keeps me safe. It brings me love.
Since the last time he’d operated on Rob, Dr. O’Leary had moved his offices from Park Avenue to Madison. Rob met him there on Monday afternoon. It was pouring, the heaviest rain in two months. They looked again at X-rays and MRI results. Dr. O’Leary reiterated that surgery was the only option. He scheduled the operation for Thursday at 12:30 p.m. at Lenox Hill Hospital.
Back at the Pierre, Rob found an e-mail from Frank Shea asking if he’d arrived safely in New York and inviting him to the Shea home for a meatball dinner. He replied:
Plans changed a bit, and Nancy came with me. She said she wanted to be with me. Things are going very well with us and we are talking about lots of things that are very critical to our survival. There is still a ton of ground to be covered, but at least there is hope. It’s amazing how a man can swallow even the toughest issues when he still cares deeply about his family and his wife. Also, I am focused on getting better. Surgery is scheduled for Thursday. We have been running around to a bunch of doctors and also spending quality time with each other.
Despite the downpour, Nancy had gone out to shop. She liked the Pierre for its five-star elegance, of course, and for its views of Central Park, but mostly because it was within easy walking distance of her favorite boutiques and department stores, particularly Bloomingdale’s. If it hadn’t been for her mother’s break with the Lazarus family years before, Nancy figured, she would have been a part owner of Bloomingdale’s.
And despite the downpour, Bill Kissel arrived from Florida. He and Rob had been on nonspeaking terms once again, but because Bill still considered Rob his good son, as opposed to Andrew, he was willing to wipe the slate clean of whatever he’d scrawled across it during his most recent tirade. Bill had never been able to say—to anyone, about anything—that he was sorry, but he hoped Rob would recognize his coming to New York for the surgery as the act of love and concern that it was.
Rob resumed writing in his journal:
Hurt
Lies, deception.
Can one give up so quickly something that they had a need for?
Does she understand the ramifications of her actions?
Had to get her back to HK as soon as possible, or all was lost.
Is she going to contact him?
Will she do it in my time of need?
Every time she walks out, is she going to call him?
I just want to know.
I can deal with the truth—just not lies and deception.
If it is over, if you still need him, just tell me.
Don’t let me hang on, working to save it.
We can then both deal with it.
While accepting that she had sex with him, she has not said it—
What do I expect her to say? I don’t know.
It’s just that all along she denied it.
She made up her “Friend” story and used it to me
To justify e-mails, letters, etc…
Should she be made to acknowledge the lies and deceptions in some way? How?
I need help in answering these questions.
Rob’s situation was not without irony. The internationally acclaimed investment banker, unable to manage the most significant investment of his life. The man noted for his ability to make the right decision no matter how fraught with pressure the situation, now acknowledging—if only to himself—that he needed help.
When Nancy was with him, he told Bryna, he felt a closeness he’d not experienced for years. But could he trust it? Could he trust her? He wrote in his journal on August 6:
What a great week. Even though it is terrible circumstances (my operation) I feel like I am in love again. At Bloomie’s, Nancy picked out some cologne that she liked for me. It was by the pajama section where we were getting stuff for my hospital visit. I thought that was sweet and nice. 1st time in at least 5 yrs.
I picked the same side of the bed as when we were first married…She sleeps facing me rather than turned against the wall. She touches me and holds my hand without me doing it first. She seems to care about anything I am doing versus not caring if I died.
We call the kids together, wake, eat and sleep together. I love being together. I am grateful, surprised, but blissfully happy about her efforts. I hope it carries on because we have a long road and bumpy road ahead of us….
Being together without kids, other distractions, is great. It is as it was 10 years ago. We seem to be enjoying each other’s company very much. But my mind wanders back to what I know.
I find it hard to believe that our couple of discussions, while very meaningful and deep, touching on deep feelings and true feelings, were enough to get us where we are right now…walking around in respect, love and having fun together.
There must be an element in both of us trying very hard here, because we are not close to over the top in getting our relationship on solid ground. I still don’t trust that she is not writing letters or calling her lover when I am tied up with a doctor or other. But what can I do? I can only show my love….
This is like a weird dream.
The real sadness and emptiness is that I love her but may never trust her.
He e-mailed Frank Shea again:
Here we are in NYC having a great time, but I still don’t trust her. We have only spent a couple of times apart for more than 10 minutes and I wouldn’t be surprised if she made a call to her friend. I wonder if you think it makes sense to put someone on her during the next couple of days while I am in the hospital? We will spend most of the time together, but I would be interested if she leaves to make phone calls outside our room (on a pay phone).
From my perspective, I want to know how hard I should continue here and whether I should give her an ultimatum when I return to Hong Kong. Because without the trust, there is nothing to save. She needs to know that and I need to know what she is really doing.
Frank replied that he didn’t think surveillance of Nancy would be worth the cost. If she used a pay phone to make a call it couldn’t be traced, whether someone was tailing her or not. Short of documenting a clandestine meeting with Del Priore, there was little that surveillance could accomplish. He added:
It is possible that he may drive to NYC if they are still talking, but given his “country” nature, I’m not sure he would drive all the way here. I agree that once you get back to Hong Kong hard decisions have to be made, but remember that if she tells you that she loves you and wants to make this work, don’t throw it away.