"I can only imagine," I say.
"Lincoln works such crazy hours. I just don't know how we're going to make this work."
"You're just going to have to work less and prioritize your family for a little while. Or you can get help."
"Help is definitely an option. But I just want us both to be there, you know? Like experience raising our child ourselves. But maybe that's just me talking right now and in six months I'll be running for the hills."
"Yeah, probably," I say and we both laugh.
"But this could be a really good bonding experience, not just with a baby, but with us.”
“Have you talked to him about taking some time off?” I ask.
“He wants me to take time off, but he doesn't want to take time off himself. He wants to work more hours. He says that I could hire someone. And of course we can hire a nanny, but it wouldn't be a big deal if he cut back to what, sixty hours, just for a little while."
"Lincoln is a workaholic," I say. "It's kind of like a family curse."
"Yeah, I know. You guys have all this money and you still just can't stop working. What's that about?"
Now it's my turn to laugh.
"Lincoln and I are very different," I say, slowing down and turning to face her.
"We're really different, but we're also alike. You know? Trying to prove something to people who are no longer here. When you come from a wealthy family, you either sit around, do nothing all the time or you spend all of your hours trying to chase ghosts and show them that you can do just as much as they did. I think that's where he's coming from."
“Maybe you’re right,” Marguerite says, biting her lower lip. “Or maybe it’s just losing the trust fund money.”
31
Dante
There are lots of Fifth Avenue and Park Avenue women who spend all their time going to lunch and planning parties while their husbands golf and act like masters of the universe on Wall Street, but Marguerite is nothing like that.
She went to medical school, did internships and a residency, and works crazy hours despite Lincoln making half a million and who knows how much more with bonuses every year.
They have not been in need of money for a long time. I have known Marguerite long enough to know that she's the least money hungry person out there.
She doesn't care about brands.
She doesn't care about designer things.
She likes things to be nice, but Target-nice. Not Saks Fifth Avenue or Bergdorf Goodman nice.
The issue with the trust fund isn’t just about the six-million dollars.
“I talked to Lincoln already, and I know that he's no longer technically eligible for the trust, but the thing about the trusts is that they have to be taken to court and evaluated,” I offer. “All it says is that he has to marry someone from a comparable family. Who knows what that means?"
"It means that I have to be rich. It means that when we're married, our incomes have to come together and make more money," Marguerite says, tilting her head. "You know that."
"But it has never been challenged in court, okay? Somebody wrote that decades ago to try to protect us from marrying women who would only be after our money. That is clearly not the case for you.”
She shrugs and tries to walk away, but I pull her back.
"Our grandfather was just trying to look out for his fortune. He had no idea that his grandson would marry someone like you with your own career and income.”
"Are you trying to take a side in all of this?" Marguerite says, folding her arms across her chest.
"No, not at all. All I'm trying to say is that it is worth pursuing because nothing is set in stone."
"What about your mom? How would she feel about us suing her for all of that money?”
"Technically not her, but the estate," I point out. "Yeah, that’s not going to help your relationship. I don't know how she's going to feel, but probably not good, but you know what? You have nothing to prove. And if you did, you already proved it many years ago. You and Lincoln are solid and now you're having a child.”
She shakes her head, still frustrated and annoyed.
"You're an established physician. You make your own money. I don't know what there is to prove,” I continue. “I don't know why the trustees wouldn't agree to giving you the trust fund."
Marguerite inhales and exhales very slowly. "I don't either, except Lincoln is pretty sure that we are never going to get it."
"And if you don’t?" I ask.
She glares at me and it feels like bullets hitting my body.
"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant… what if you don't get the six-million dollars, what then? Lincoln makes good money. You do as well. You have a career. You have the house in the Hamptons.”
“Which your mom pays for,” she adds. "That's the thing. Your mom is always trying to pull all these strings. It's like, we're her puppets. He makes his own money, so do I, but we couldn’t afford that house in the Hamptons for the summer weekends. But why shouldn’t we use it?”
It’s more of a rhetorical question but she answers it before I can.
“Should we not use it just out of pride when your mom bought it in our names? She’s paying the mortgage. Still, every time I'm there, I feel like I owe her something.”
Marguerite sighs and I wish there were something I could say besides ‘I’m sorry.’
"She's using money to control us and I fall for it every time,” she says. “I'm trying to make peace so that my husband is happy, but it just makes me more angry.”
Suddenly, she gets overwhelmed. Her nose turns red and a few tears roll down her cheeks.
I lean over and pull her close to me and wrap my arms around her shoulders as she sobs.
"I'm so sorry.” Marguerite tries to push me away, but I just hold her close. "I'm not trying to make any trouble. I'm just pregnant."
"No," I say, pulling her away and looking straight into her eyes. "You have very legitimate concerns and Mom is being awful. She has always used money to manipulate the people around her.”
She nods, continuing to sob.
"She loves us on some level, but that doesn't stop her from trying to control us,” I say. “She thinks that if she didn't have money, and she didn't have houses, and she didn't have connections, then we wouldn't be there. But what she's really doing is just pushing us away."
“Is it ever going to change?” Marguerite nods.
“One of these days I'm going to reach my breaking point and it's going to be enough.”
The following morning, I decide to stop wasting time and call Vasko. He answers on the second ring and I dive right in. I tell him about his financials and the fact that I do not agree with this investment.
He listens carefully and waits. He doesn't try to convince me of anything.
I tell him that the companies look like they are shell companies used to only funnel money from one place to another, and ones that produce nothing.