Cheating at Solitaire
Page 16

"She's a fraud," says Maria Snider, who once chaired the Albany, New York, chapter of the Julia James Appreciation Society. "I paid my twenty-five bucks," she says, holding up a copy of the runaway bestseller 707 Ways to Cheat at Solitaire. "I bought it looking for a role model, but what I got was a phony. I want my money back."
But few share Snider's point of view. In the Albany chapter of the JJAS alone, splinter groups have formed. Some, like Snider, long for the Julia of old. But most see this new chapter of their heroine's life as a testament to the power of true love.
Competing picket lines formed outside a bookstore in Chicago today, the "pro-relationship" faction brandishing signs and GIVE LANCE A CHANCE T-shirts. Others, like Snider, rallied behind cries of: "Table for one, not table for two. Lance, we have no use for you."
Controversy or not, sales for 107 Ways to Cheat at Solitaire have been described by one industry insider as "mind-blowing."
"These are the same arguments about women's role in society we have seen since the end of the Second World War," said Peter Frisco, professor of Women's Studies at Columbia University. "Rosie the Riveter started it. Julia James is simply bringing it into the next century."
But the debate rages on. Has James abandoned her feminist credo, or has she simply followed her heart to another lifestyle choice? If this is the end of Julia James, this man wants to know what women will do without her on bookstands or in magazines telling them how to live. Without Julia, women may have to trust some other lifestyle guru—or, Heaven forbid, their hearts—to guide them.
"Thanks for coming," Lance said as he opened the door to Nina and Caroline. "I didn't know who else to call."
"What happened?" Caroline said. "You sounded upset on the phone."
"She's still up in her room," he said. "She won't come down. I didn't want to go in there, but ..." He whispered, "I think she's crying."
Caroline and Nina took in quick, sharp gasps.
"I shouldn't have gone in, should I?" he asked, feeling utterly out of his league.
"Oh, good night, no!" Nina exclaimed. "Z don't even want to go in." She gave Caroline a shove toward the stairs. "You go, C. You're her sister. She won't hurt someone who's lactating."
Caroline batted Nina's hands away and turned to Lance. "What happened?"
Lance moved to the club chair, and Nina and Caroline took seats on the couch. He ran his hands through his hair and said, "I'm really not sure. My agent called and asked for me. She hung up on him, didn't tell him a thing, but he pretty much knew I was here."
"So that sent her over to the dark side?" Nina asked.
"No, that's the thing. She was fine when she went to bed. Well, not fine really, but okay. When I came downstairs this morning, those doors were open." He pointed toward the study. "And I haven't seen her yet today."
Nina got up and went into the study, and Lance and Caroline followed through piles of books and past broken-down shelves. The windows had the aged look of old glass, a prism distorting the occupant's view of the world. The walls were covered with peeling paint and layers of old wallpaper that rippled from years of heat and humidity. The ceiling bore the stains of a room that has lived too long beneath a leaky roof. Everything smelled of neglect.
Caroline wrinkled her nose, "I don't know how she lives like this."
"Don't look at me," Nina said, throwing up her hands. "I stayed with her through nine months of decorating hell. I have more than paid my dues."
Lance guessed that Julia did all her writing in this room, and suddenly he felt wrong for being there. He realized that for Julia, the study must be as sacred and private as the master suite. "I don't think we should be in here," he said.
Nina waved him off. "If she wants to come downstairs and throw us out, that would suit me fine." She poked through papers on the desk: memos and letters, fan mail.
"The computer isn't on, is it?" Caroline asked.
"No," Lance said, "but the printer is."
"Julia," Caroline said, knocking on her bedroom door. "Nina and I are here. Lance called us."
Oh, no. "Go away," Julia cried, trying to disguise her breaking throat. "Nothing's wrong. I just didn't sleep very well last night."
The door creaked open, and Caroline peered around the doorjamb. "Are you decent?" she asked softly, but Nina pushed past her.
"If not, you better get that way, because we're coming in." Nina plodded through the piles of dirty clothes that were scattered on the floor, overflowing out of open suitcases. She hopped onto the bed, flattening the duvet she'd given Julia for her thirtieth birthday, and asked, "What's your deal?" in a tone that suggested she wasn't going to let Julia mope the day away in any bed, no matter how beautiful its linens.
"I'm tired," Julia said, hoping that would end it.
But Caroline came in and, like Nina, crawled onto the queen-sized bed, and Julia heard the rustling of papers. Before she could stop her, Caroline reached into the pile of blankets and pulled the pages out. Caroline's eyes scanned the first sheet, and when she finished, she handed it to Nina and began reading the second.
"Wow," Caroline eventually said.
"Julia!" Nina exclaimed. "You're a T-shirt!"
I've been on the New York Times bestseller list for five years, and this is what impresses Nina, Julia thought and tumbled over onto the pillows. She felt Caroline stroke her hair, half expecting her to hold a tissue to her nose and say "blow" and then "good girl."
"When did I become the anti-relationship person?" Julia asked. "Caroline, did I try to talk you out of marriage? Nina ..." She turned to the woman who had married Jason twice, then rethought her question. "Well, you don't count." Julia sat upright. "All I ever wanted was to help people make the most out of the cards they've been dealt! Those were my exact words!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger at no one in particular. "Jeez! You tell Katie Couric something, and you kind of expect the word to get around!"
"Julia," Caroline was saying, "this is something that happens. You read what that professor said. You didn't do this. It's just a part of life." Tension was building in her voice. "Like when the baby has colic and Cassie finger paints on the marble in the guest bath. Stuff just happens!"
Julia took the article from Caroline, needing to feel it in her hands to be sure she wasn't having a nightmare. "Half my fans hate me! For no reason—I haven't abandoned them! I haven't lied! I believe in what I wrote. Lance, whether he's my boyfriend"—she choked out the word—"or not, doesn't change that."
"But half your fans love you," Nina said.
Julia tossed off the covers. "No. Half of her fans love her" She pointed to the picture that had been taken that day outside FAO Schwarz and included in every online news story about her phenomenal success of the past week. "But she doesn't exist!"
"Well, for a ghost, she takes an excellent picture," Nina chided.
"All I ever said was that marriage doesn't have to be everyone's cup of tea. Maybe tea's not available in your area. Maybe you haven't found a flavor you like. Some people like coffee. Some like pop. Some"—Julia felt her voice beginning to crack—"just try to avoid caffeine."
"So, you want us to leave," Nina said, rising to her knees on the bed. "You want us to leave so you can have a pity party—because some people you don't even know think you've got a boyfriend ''' Nina got off the bed. "Jules, Caroline had a miscarriage last year. I've been divorced—twice—from the same guy. Ro-Ro, all joking aside, has buried four husbands. Forgive me, but the fact that you sold a million books in a week doesn't seem so very tragic."
With that, Nina whirled and walked to the door as quickly as her five-foot frame would allow. Minutes after she left, Caroline and Julia were both still sitting quietly on the bed, trying to adjust to Nina, the enforcer.
Julia hugged a pillow to her chest. "I don't know where I went so wrong," she said as she began to cry the big, fat tears that come only when the shutoff valve for emotion is broken. "It's so embarrassing. I'm just too embarrassed to be seen." She ran her pajama sleeve across her wet face.
Caroline shifted on the bed and turned to study her. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Why should you be embarrassed?"
"The snotty guy at Sycamore Hills was nice to me," Julia mumbled. "Miss Georgia fixed my dress. Ro-Ro made me go to that benefit, and you know she never would have done that if Lance hadn't been here to go with me." Tears were pouring out. "And now I see this!" She clenched the pages into her tight fists. "My sales have doubled. Why? Because of him.”
"Honey," Caroline said, "that's not true!"
"I'm just so ashamed," Julia said, wilting into soundless sobs.
Caroline let her get it all cried out before she asked, "Why, Julia? Why would you ever say such a thing?"
"I feel like people are looking at me now and saying, 'Oh, we're so glad there isn't something wrong with you.' That's what it feels like. Like people have thought there was something wrong with me for years but they're just admitting it now."
"Julia, you are reading way too much into this! All these people, your old fans and your new fans, they want to be you. They see this picture of you, smiling and laughing with a great-looking guy, so they go out to buy your books because they want that. You've proven it's possible. They've always wanted to be you, then and now. Everyone wants to be happy."
Julia looked at Caroline then, and something passed between them in the unspoken language of sisters. "Have you read the new book, Caroline?"
Her sister was quiet for a long time, then she said, "Don't lock yourself in your room, Julia. No one thought there was something wrong with you before, especially no one who knows you—not Ro-Ro, not the Georgias, not us."
"You're saying that if my friends and family hated me, they'd tell me to my face?"
Caroline pulled her sister's head onto her shoulder and smoothed her tangled hair. "Of course we would, sweetheart. Your friends are awful people."
Chapter Fifteen
WAY #61: Don't be afraid to rearrange your life.
One of the marks of truly successful people is that they know how to change with the times, keep things fresh. If you feel a yourself falling into a minor rut, make a minor change. If the feeling persists, it might be time to consider giving your life a fresh, new look.
—from 101 Ways to Cheat at Solitaire 38
What if we move the bed over there?" Caroline pointed toward the wall that adjoined the master suite.
"No, trust me," Nina cut in. "You want to respect the symmetry of the room. We can't ignore the windows."
Julia stood on the upstairs landing and looked into the small room at the top of the stairs where her sister and best friend stood, hands on hips, like Lewis and Clark, mapping a way through the West.
"Well, whatever the case, we're getting new bedding," Caroline stated.