Читать книгу The Husband Lesson - Jeanie London, Jeanie London - Страница 11

Karan’s Journal

What was different about that night?

THAT NIGHT WAS NOTHING SPECIAL from what I remember. No different than the thousand other parties I’ve attended. Great food. Even better conversation. I can always count on Brent to host a decent party, which is one of the reasons why he’s such a successful politician. I never even blinked while writing my check for five thousand dollars to his campaign. I’m sure most of his supporters don’t. Two terms in office, work on the Banking and Finance Committees—he’s more than proven his good sense and character.

And he has been a good friend. He ran interference when that busybody Ginger Downey commented on my solo arrival. Brent grabbed my hand and twirled me and announced how delighted he was that he’d get a chance to dance more with me. When he wasn’t dancing with Annette, of course.

Annette was so sweet when she caught me in the powder room to ask if I was okay. I wouldn’t have missed this party for the world. Only the most influential names were on the guest list. Mine, of course, had been one of the first.

Certainly well above Ginger Downey’s.

Now that I think about it, I was also excited about getting out. The past few months…well, I haven’t felt settled anywhere. When I’m in the city, I’m out-of-sorts because I miss my routine with Patrick. But I’m not settled in Connecticut, either. Being at the beach makes me feel as if I’m on vacation. I need to be rebuilding my life, establishing new routines.

That leaves Bluestone Mountain.

On the upside, I’m close to Susanna.

On the downside, I’m close to Mom, which is always a mixed bag. But she hasn’t been too difficult lately, so no complaints. I thought she might be going to Brent’s party because she likes the Inn at Laurel Lake—one of the few places around Bluestone she cares for—but she was in the city for another event.

I remember being excited. I made a special trip into the city to shop for evening wear and completely lucked out when I found the most darling Akris appliqué dress. I spent the better part of the day at Mill Hill Resort and Spa preparing for the night with the usual workout, massage, mani, pedi and facial.

I put my hair in a ponytail to show off the gorgeous tulle inset shoulders of the dress. I was excited, no question. More excited than I can remember being in quite some time. Since before Patrick left.

I can’t remember when things started to change, but somewhere between the Russian caviar, the Wagyu rib eye and the conversations with an A-list of local, state and federal officials, the sparkle of the night dulled. All the laughter and discussions about the cigarette tax and small business loans, all the reconnecting suddenly lost its appeal.

Maybe that was my first clue. After all the preparation, all the careful attention to detail, I wanted to leave long before the party had ended. I remember thinking that all the preparation felt like an enormous waste of time. I was bored at best, distracted at worst, and after asking Congressman Bruij to repeat his question not once but an appalling twice, I was more than ready to say my goodbyes and head home.

Yes, now that I think about it that definitely should have been my first sign of trouble.

But how could I leave until Brent made his announcement? I couldn’t. Ginger would have certainly drawn attention to my early departure and started up talk about how I was rebounding after my latest divorce—nosy woman. Now there’s someone who needs a hobby. Crocheting maybe, so she stays home and I won’t run into her as often at social events. But I absolutely refused to give her ammunition to use against me. Not to mention that leaving before the announcement would have been rude considering how Brent and Annette had gone out of their way to be nice.

No, even upon reflection, I really had no choice but to tough it out and pretend to be interested.

I suppose the Dom Perignon Rosé helped me do that.

One sip and I managed to nod in all the appropriate places whenever Judge Townsend stopped his soliloquy about the unique responsibilities of probate, adoptions and guardianships long enough to draw air.

Another sip and I directed leading questions to State Assemblywoman Whaley, who argued emphatically for the property tax cap and against an increase of income and excise taxes as an alternative to educational cuts.

I seem to have kept right on sipping, raising an almost-empty flute when Brent finally made his announcement. Then I kissed him and Annette and headed for the door.

My small misstep at the entrance was another sign of trouble. The doorman saved me from disaster, un ceremoniously hauling me upright when the heel of my slingback caught on the runner. I slipped entirely out of my shoe and was forced to cling to him to stay upright.

Of course he asked if he could call me a taxi. I recognized the code for: should you get behind the wheel?

It was one stupid glass of champagne. Besides, leaving my car wasn’t an option, not when Jessica’s husband was the general manager of the Inn. If he saw my Jaguar in his parking lot overnight, he’d tell Jessica, who would tell Marietta, who would tell Becca…and so on until every cheerleader who’d once been on my team would start the Bluestone gossip mill grinding.

Everyone would speculate about who I’d spent the night with. Or assume I’d had too much to drink. Then word would make its way back to my mother, who never missed anything that happened in this town. I did not want to get that phone call.

I produced my claim ticket and told the doorman I was fine to drive. He looked doubtful, but I just flashed him my most reassuring smile and told him the truth—only one glass of champagne.

I headed outside to wait, so the night air would help clear my head.

Why had I been looking forward to seeing all these people again? I couldn’t remember. I should have probably just sent Brent the check.

The valet took forever with my car, and I wondered if he’d gone to confirm how much I’d had to drink. With liability being what it is nowadays I couldn’t fault a business for being cautious. Even though I was left outside shivering. That had been my choice. I could have waited indoors.

Or better yet, I could have stayed in Manhattan. Then leaving my car wouldn’t even have been an issue. I’d have simply tipped the valet and let the doorman call a taxi.

I wasn’t sure what I’d have done if the doorman gave me trouble. What could I do? Call Susanna? Still would have meant leaving my car. Unless Susanna brought along Brooke, who's now driving even though Susanna is awfully tight-fisted with the car keys considering Brooke's heading off to college in a few weeks. But that’s just my opinion. And Brooke’s, of course.

I didn’t want to be used as a nonexample for my beautiful, impressionable goddaughter. And Susanna wouldn’t be able to contain herself and resist the chance to drive home a life lesson. She couldn’t resist mothering on a good day let alone when I drop a perfect opportunity in her lap.

Being between husbands at the moment, I had no one else to call and my mother wasn’t an option. All I wanted to do was get home. And home was only a few miles down a long, very lonely stretch of highway late at night.