Читать книгу For Better Or Worse - Jill Amy Rosenblatt - Страница 16

At the sound of Parker’s booming voice, Elizabeth and Nick moved with the guests en masse into the great room on the first floor. Parker and Emily’s downtown Art Deco townhouse had ceiling-to-floor windows and glass skylights, a feeling of openness, allowing the city to flow inside. Done in stark white, the only colors were oversized, red Chinese porcelain pots holding bamboo plants, and the occasional painting with explosions of splattered color. The upper floors were made of frosted glass, creating a moving mosaic of footprints over the heads of the guests. Servers moved between rooms and floors, disappearing back into the kitchen for refills.

A red silk cloth covered a large, bulky mass on a table in the center of the great room.

Karen leaned over to Elizabeth. “Is that the mock-up of the new kingdom?”

“Either that or a bloody horse’s head.”

Karen stifled a laugh.

Parker stood next to the table, the ringmaster of his circus. “Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve seen Mar-a-Lago. Now see the next evolution, Davis Manor.” With a flourish, he flipped off the cloth, revealing a scale model of the palace that was to be the Greenwich compound. “Thirty thousand square feet, my friends.”

A faint buzzing sound grew louder; all eyes followed a miniature helicopter flying above their heads, watching it settle down onto the tiny helipad.

Scanning the guests, Elizabeth spied Stanton Perry, his trophy wife Deirdre at his side. Deirdre had everything Stanton or any other man could want: long, luxurious, flowing platinum blond hair, skin glowing with youth and vitality, a Victoria’s Secret body, and legs that never quit. They approached Elizabeth, and Stanton offered his hand as he kissed her cheek.

“Hello, young lady,” he said. “What do you hear?”

Elizabeth smiled into his perfectly tanned angular face, silver strands gleaming in the slicked-back dark hair. He had a sly smile that made him look a little dangerous. Elizabeth knew he was more than a little dangerous.

“It’s all good, Mister Perry, all good,” she said smoothly. “And yourself?”

“Excellent, as you know. You’ve put me in good hands. Your young Adam is doing a fine job advising me. And even though you’re a big shot now, I expect you to visit us at Georgica Pond this summer,” he said with a wink as he moved on.

As she watched him move away, she caught sight of a small painting hanging in the corner of the room. She strolled over for a closer look. It was a pastoral scene in the Impressionist style, thick brush strokes placing dabs of separate color next to one another, providing an optical feast to the viewer as the colors mixed before the eye. The work reminded her of Monet’s purple lilies and she smiled. She looked for the artist’s signature even though she knew it was Ian. A rush of excitement ran through her at the thought of seeing him again.

She felt Nick’s arms encircle her. “How’s my girl? Thirsty?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said and watched him head to the bar.

She noticed Parker in deep conversation with Stanton, Deirdre close at Stanton’s side. She wore the vague air of boredom that comes of having too much money and leisure time. Parker leaned toward Deirdre, always the attentive host. Close, too close, Elizabeth thought.

Elizabeth felt a tug at her arm and turned to find Karen.

“What’s happening?”

“Take a look,” Elizabeth said with a discreet nod toward Parker.

“No,” Karen said. “He isn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“He will,” Elizabeth said. “He’s never been as smart as he thinks he is. He’s got two heads and he’s always thinking with the wrong one.”

A server passed them with a tray of unidentifiable white-and-gray matter, some of it wrapped in green leaves.

“Don’t eat anything,” Karen whispered.

Elizabeth looked longingly at the passing tray. “Why not?” she said as Emily floated past them, chattering with guests.

“I can’t believe how easy this has been. Most of the foods aren’t meant to be cooked anyway and raw bars are back in style,” Emily said.

“Great,” Elizabeth said. “I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“Let’s head up to the roof,” Karen said.

Elizabeth caught Nick’s eye across the room; he was engaged in conversation. She pointed her finger upward and he nodded in acknowledgment but made no move to break away. She thought wistfully of their first outings when they stayed close to each other, always touching. We’re used to each other now, comfortable, Elizabeth told herself, as it should be.

Hearing Parker’s angry voice, Karen and Elizabeth stopped short of cutting through the den.

“Why didn’t the electrician install the spotlights over the replica?” Parker demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t you call him?”

Emily hesitated a moment. “I did. He couldn’t come back.”

“Why not?” he persisted.

“I—I—” she stumbled.

“Never mind,” Parker snapped. “You don’t know. You never know. Next time, I’ll take care of it.” Stalking away, he left perfectly manicured, perfumed, and coutured Emily standing there, her mouth turned down in a quivering pout.

Karen moved in Emily’s direction but Elizabeth held her back. “Don’t, you’ll embarrass her.”

They backed away and found Robert disengaging himself from a tall, slender, earnest professor sporting an outrageous handlebar mustache; part and parcel of Emily’s attempt to create a modern day salon.

“Your idea is wrong, young man. I advise you to reconsider,” the professor said, his mustache dancing with every word. “O’Neill’s work can never be comedy. Comedy is only for those who overcome. O’Neill’s final words were ‘born in a hotel room and, goddammit, died in a hotel room.’ What does that tell you?”

“He had poor planning skills,” Karen said, taking Robert’s hand to lead him away. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t be funny.”

“Thanks for rescuing me,” Robert said as he kissed Karen’s ear. “What have I missed?”

“Parker and Emily had an argument, just as you predicted.”

Robert checked his watch as they made their way up the stairs to the roof. “Right on schedule. It won’t be long now. One way or another, this party’s going to be over in an hour. Trust me.”

The intimate roof space boasted a tall, red brick façade housing a compact fireplace where a healthy blaze crackled; candles and tiki torches flickered in the dusk. A luxurious blood-red silk carpet glinted in the firelight.

Elizabeth, Karen, and Robert enjoyed the peace and quiet until Parker, guests in tow, burst up the stairs and onto the roof. “This is one of only a handful of rooftop living spaces in Manhattan,” he was saying. “It was a bitch bringing everything up by crane.”

“You must love spending time up here,” someone said. “You can see clear across the Hudson.”

“Did you see Perry?” he asked as he passed Elizabeth.

“Yes, I saw him.”

“Thanks for putting in a good word for me,” he said, flashing one of his infamous predatory smiles.

“Here’s a word for you,” she said with a dismissive tone. “Several, actually.” She nodded toward Deirdre Perry disappearing down the stairs. “Keep your hands out of that cookie jar, or they won’t be the only things to get chopped off.”

He cackled, giving her a playful pat on the back and headed for the stairs.

Jerk-off.

A server paused and without thinking she took an hors d’oeuvre off the tray. Maybe I’ll just eat the cracker. As she brought the food to her mouth, a hand encircled her wrist, making her jump.

“You don’t want to do that, love,” Ian whispered.

Her pulse racing, she opened her hand, allowing the mystery tidbit to drop into his palm.

She steeled herself and faced him.

“It’s lovely to see you looking well,” he said. “Are you sorted out now?”

“I’m fine.”

“I do hope I wasn’t the cause of anything.”

“Not a chance.”

“Excellent. You were quite overcome. What’s the term for that?”

“Heat stroke.”

Ian smirked. “Yes, of course. Is the Prince here with you?”

“Downstairs, feeding and watering his white horse.”

“Ah,” he said with a chuckle. “Rather foolish of him to leave you alone, don’t you think?”

“Why? There’s no danger here.”

Ian nodded. “That’s a great relief.” He smiled, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“We’ll probably be married by next summer.”

“Why wait? Dear Lizzie, if you really wanted to be married, I would think you would have done it by now.”

“Not all Americans are in a hurry. Some of us like to make sure we do everything right. The right man, at the right time.”

Ian smiled. “Of course.”

A moan cut through the hum of conversation. Ian and Elizabeth looked at each other and then across the terrace to see a man, hand over his mouth, sink onto a chair. Almost immediately, the man’s companion gasped and doubled over, clutching her stomach.

Robert and Ian rushed to their aid, Karen and Elizabeth on their heels.

“We need to get them downstairs,” Robert said.

As they all moved down the steps, they were greeted by more strange, guttural noises.

“I’m pretty sure the party is over,” Robert said as they reached the landing.

Peering into the great room, they found guests prostrate on couches, some bent over, moaning; others, holding their stomachs, lay supine on the floor. A woman in a silk chiffon Galliano dress wretched into an ice bucket.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being right?” Elizabeth said to Robert.

When they made it to the first floor, they found Parker, his face the color of chalk, hovering helplessly at Stanton Perry’s side. Stanton gripped his stomach with one hand while holding on to Deirdre with the other as she clung to the table in the great room. With a whimper, she vomited on the mock-up of the Greenwich compound.

“So much for the kingdom,” Elizabeth whispered to Ian.

He nodded, suppressing a smile.

Stanton turned to Parker, his eyes blazing.

“Emily!” Parker bellowed. “We have an issue!”

Twenty minutes later, the townhouse resembled a mini infirmary, with EMTs triaging the sick.

Elizabeth and Karen flanked Emily, her eyes saucers of panic, holding a handkerchief to stifle her sobs. “I don’t understand this. How did this happen?”

“I don’t fucking believe this,” Parker said with a grimace, hand on his stomach.

“Parker, lay off, this isn’t the time,” Elizabeth said.

EMTs passed them, some carrying Ziploc bags bulging with food, others wheeling gurneys bearing groaning guests.

“This is the perfect time,” he said, color draining from his face. “What the hell is wrong with this picture? In my world, my housewarming party doesn’t turn into a damn MASH unit!”

“Neither of you got sick?” Emily said to Karen and Elizabeth. “What did you eat?”

They didn’t answer, watching a couple being wheeled past them and out the door.

“You’ll hear from my attorney, Davis,” the husband groaned.

“Nick!” Parker bellowed.

An EMT strolled over. “Which one of you is Julia Child? I need a complete list of what you served.”

Parker turned to Emily. “Your job is to help me win new clients,” he said, clutching his stomach. “Not poison them!” Leaning against a bamboo plant, he let out a guttural moan and threw up on his shoes. “Oh shit,” he whimpered. “Not the Ferragamos.”

Two EMT workers heaved him onto a gurney as Emily hurried to his side.

Nick appeared at the top of the stairs, helping a woman down from the second floor.

“Nick…Nick,” Parker gasped.

Nick handed the woman off to an EMT and came to Parker’s side.

“Take care of this, Nick,” he sputtered. “Take care of this shit.”

Nick patted his shoulder. “I’ve got it under control. Don’t worry about it.”

Elizabeth and Nick stood apart, taking a moment out of the madness.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine. I need to go to the hospital to babysit Parker. This is going to cost him money—some of which I will be collecting.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Nick!” Parker ordered. “Get the hell over here!”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “It’ll be chaos. You don’t need to be involved. Head on home with Karen.”

“I think I should—”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, his tone firm.

Elizabeth accompanied Stanton outside to a waiting ambulance. Dierdre’s moans floated out from its interior.

“Thanks,” Stanton said, his face glistening with perspiration.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” she said.

Robert and Karen joined her and they watched the ambulances pull away from the curb, sirens wailing. A small crowd loitered, watching the spectacle. It was only eight o’clock but it felt like the evening had been going on for hours. The air was still and humid, clammy against their air-conditioned skin.

“Well, that was a killer party,” Robert said.

“Do you want to come back to the apartment?” Karen asked.

Elizabeth shook her head.

They said their good-nights; Elizabeth lingered, finally realizing she was hungry.

She was thinking of a muffin and a latte at the Starbucks near her apartment when she heard the click of a lighter behind her. She turned to find Ian taking a deep pull on his cigarette.

He came forward, offering his hand. “Come along now.”

“And where are we going?”

“Just a wee drink.”

“A wee drink? You know, it’s a distinct possibility you’re not as cute as you think you are.”

Ian considered this statement. “No, I’m very cute.” And then he grinned.

What a smile, Elizabeth thought, watching his features soften. Her insides began to flutter and she forced herself to stay stern.

His hand was out, open, palm up, inviting, waiting. “I did save your life tonight, didn’t I?”

“So you did,” she said, ignoring his hand but falling into step with him. “One drink, that’s all.”