Читать книгу It’s Always the Husband: the Sunday Times bestselling thriller for fans of THE MARRIAGE PACT - Michele Campbell, Michele Campbell - Страница 15

6

They woke up around one, incredibly hungover, to the sound of a racket in the kitchen, and emerged with their eyes shut against the light, like newborn kittens. Victoria took one look at them, gave them mugs of coffee and a bottle of Tylenol, and told them to get lost until dinnertime. She made noises about the caterers needing space to work, but Jenny doubted that was the real reason. Jenny wouldn’t want girls like them around her adorable towheaded children either.

They bundled up and went out into Central Park. The leaves were off the trees, and the bitter wind cut through their jackets, but still, Jenny felt grand walking around the city. She breathed in diesel-scented air and admired the wintry sunlight glinting off the magnificent apartment buildings visible over the treetops. Kate dragged them all the way across the park with the promise of Thanksgiving floats. When they reached the West Side, they found that the parade had ended hours ago. All that remained were hot dog vendors and piles of confetti, so they ate hot dogs for breakfast, and walked back across the park, all the way to Madison Avenue. The shops were closed. They linked arms and wandered up and down the deserted avenue, ogling the exquisite clothes in the windows, feeling like the city was theirs alone.

Back at Kate’s building, they chattered all the way up in the elevator, and peeked into the overheated kitchen, which bustled with catering staff and smelled deliciously of roast turkey. They were ridiculously happy, right up until the minute Victoria cornered Kate outside the door to the library.

“I’m warning you, your father’s here now, so you better clean up your act,” Victoria hissed, in a tone that made Jenny look up from unpacking her dinner clothes.

Victoria and Kate stood in the doorway, glaring at each other. Kate made a sour face and turned away. Victoria grabbed Kate’s arm. Kate yanked her arm away and slammed the door to the library, blocking Jenny and Aubrey’s view of the confrontation. But their raised voices were still perfectly audible.

“You could show a little gratitude,” Victoria said. “I’m trying to help you out. He’s not too happy about the uninvited guests.”

Jenny and Aubrey exchanged alarmed glances.

“How many guests do you have tonight, Victoria?” Kate demanded. “Let’s count. Your low-class mother and her fat boyfriend who chews with his mouth open. The three bratty cousins from Bedford. Lauren from your tennis club with her fake boobs and her husband who tries to feel me up. Any others? You don’t have any problem spending Dad’s money feeding your people. If I bring a few of mine, I would think you would have the manners not to complain.”

“Don’t talk to me about manners. Not when you stumble in semiconscious at five o’clock in the morning and wake up my children. Honestly, Kate, I think I’ve been pretty indulgent. My life would improve considerably if your father cut you off, and yet, whenever he contemplates doing that, which I can assure you happens more and more often lately, I foolishly talk him out of it.”

“You’re lying.”

“You know I’m not. I overheard your telephone conversation with him the other day. It’s obvious why you brought these girls home. Looking at them, I don’t even believe they’re your friends. You’re using their presence here to avoid your moment of reckoning. Well, it won’t work.”

“Victoria, nothing you say affects me, because I don’t believe a word of it. You see me as a threat to your extremely lucrative relationship with my father, and you’ll do anything to poison his feelings for me. So get out of my face. I have to dress for dinner. Thank you.”

Kate stepped into the library and slammed the door. She looked like she’d been punched in the stomach.

“Is everything all right?” Aubrey asked.

“Should we leave?” Jenny said.

“Screw her. Get dressed,” Kate said. Her face was bright red, and she was obviously trying not to cry.

Jenny rummaged in her suitcase. They pretended to be absorbed in getting dressed, and avoided each other’s eyes. Aubrey pulled off her T-shirt and pulled on the sparkly top she’d worn to the club last night.

“My God, you cannot wear that,” Kate said in horror. “This is a family dinner. It’s completely inappropriate.”

Aubrey blanched. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really think—”

“How much thinking does it take? Only a trashy person would wear that.”

Aubrey was on the verge of tears.

“Stop it,” Jenny said. “Don’t take it out on her.”

“You shut up.”

Jenny grabbed Kate by the shoulders. “Listen to me. Stop being a bitch, and tell us what’s going on, because we’re your friends. Honestly, Kate, we’re the best friends you’ve got. We don’t care about your parents or your apartment or your clothes. We actually care about you. Let us help.”

“I don’t need help,” Kate declared, but her face said differently.

“Yes, you do,” Jenny said. “And we want to help you, which is probably more than you can say for those people at the club last night.”

“Is your dad really going to cut you off?” Aubrey asked, looking shell-shocked.

Kate sat down on the leather couch, buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears. Jenny and Aubrey both rushed to comfort her.

“He might,” Kate said, sobbing.

“Your stepmother turned him against you?” Jenny asked.

“It’s not that simple. He’s hated me ever since my mother died. He blames me.”

Kate buried her face in Jenny’s neck, her shoulders heaving with sobs. It was thrilling for Jenny, feeling the hot tears against her skin, realizing that the great Kate Eastman needed her.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Jenny said soothingly.

“It is, you don’t know us,” Kate wailed.

“Your mother died of cancer. It wasn’t your fault, and your father doesn’t blame you. You’re imagining things.”

“No, he’s right. I was a bad daughter.”

“When you were ten?”

“I refused to visit her in the hospital because the tubes scared me. She got really upset, and that made her worse. My dad blamed me. He thinks I’m a terrible person.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Jenny said, pulling away and looking Kate in the eye. “You’re talking crazy, okay? People die of cancer. I know that’s hard to accept when it’s your own mother. Nothing you did as a child made your mother die, and your father doesn’t think that. Do you hear me?”

Kate nodded miserably.

“But it sounds like he’s mad at you now. Do you know why?”

“Ugh, the usual. My bills, the clubbing, the drinking. I mean, what does he expect? It’s college! I haven’t killed anybody, for Christ’s sake.”

“It sounds like your stepmother is making things worse.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you. What can I do? She has her hooks in him.”

“You have to tough it out. We get dressed up, go out there and charm your dad. You said he loves Carlisle, right? Let’s Carlisle him to death. Make him remember how proud he is to have a beautiful daughter at his beloved alma mater, with bright, responsible roommates who’ll keep her on the straight and narrow. We’ll make him forget he’s mad. What do you say?”

Kate swiped her arm across her face. “You think that could work?”

“It’s worth a shot. C’mon, let’s find something for Aubrey to wear. You and I both packed for a week, we can come up with something.”

The living room buzzed with conversation as they arrived for cocktail hour. A uniformed waiter passed hors d’oeuvres on a tray to the well-dressed guests.

“I’ll introduce you to my father,” Kate said, under her breath. “Ignore the others. They’re Victoria’s riffraff.”

Kate went up to her father and kissed his cheek, which he received with notable coolness. Keniston Eastman was very much what Jenny had expected – tall, imposing, scary-looking even. His aquiline nose and heavy black brows reminded her of the grim-faced portrait of President Samuel Eastman hanging in Founders’ Hall. He wore a perfectly tailored jacket and an orange-striped Carlisle rep tie, and peered at Jenny and Aubrey disapprovingly as they approached. As Kate introduced them, Aubrey shrank back. Jenny took Aubrey’s elbow and propelled her forward, so Mr. Eastman could shake both their hands.

“Enjoying the college, are you?” he asked, in a perfunctory manner, grabbing a glass of champagne off a passing tray and taking a sip, as if he needed to fortify himself against them.

Aubrey went pale at his question and seemed unlikely to open her mouth, so Jenny jumped in with a chipper smile.

“We’re very fortunate to be at Carlisle, Mr. Eastman, and we know it. I was elected Whipple rep to the student council last month, and I also work in Provost Meyers’ office, so I have a lot of insight into how things stand at Carlisle at the moment. It’s a wonderful time be a student.”

“The provost’s office? You don’t say. Gloria Meyers is a good friend.” He relaxed to the point that Jenny caught a hint of a smile in his eyes. “Tell me, what are the hot-button issues on campus these days?”

After that, they talked for fifteen minutes straight, Mr. Eastman quizzing Jenny on the latest campaign to clean up Greek life and progress on building the new athletic facility. Kate and Aubrey looked bored, and after a few minutes, wandered away, leaving Mr. Eastman in Jenny’s capable hands. Jenny watched them edge toward the table where a handsome bartender stood mixing drinks. Out of the corner of her eye, Jenny saw Kate flirting with the bartender as he shook up a martini. Was Kate really stupid enough to start drinking at her father’s party? Jenny wondered. If so, she was beyond help. A nasty look and a whispered word from Victoria took care of the problem before Keniston spotted it, however. Kate and Aubrey stepped away from the bar. A moment later, Victoria announced that dinner was served, and Jenny turned toward the dining room with relief.

“You’re saving my ass. Dad loved you,” Kate said, catching up with Jenny as they moved into the dining room.

“Don’t drink,” Jenny whispered urgently.

“Huh?”

“Just don’t drink anything alcoholic, not a drop, not for the whole night.”

“But I’m hungover. Hair of the dog.”

“I can’t believe I have to tell you this. The plan is working. Don’t ruin it.”

In the dining room, the chandelier sparkled, casting a warm glow over the crystal stemware, fine china, and lavish flower arrangements. Each setting had a place card, and Jenny was disappointed to see that the three of them were seated next to the little Eastmans at the far end of the table, presumably to act as impromptu babysitters if the need arose. Jenny had hoped to be closer to the seat of power at the head, the better to continue her conversation with Mr. Eastman. She hadn’t had time yet to make clear to him that she planned a future on Wall Street herself. The questions had been on the tip of her tongue when dinner was announced – did his firm hire interns, and could she forward a résumé? – but she hadn’t gotten them out. It was a lesson. Never hesitate; never put somebody else’s interests (especially Kate’s; she had enough advantages already) ahead of your own career advancement, or the moment would pass you by.

The upside was that, sitting in Siberia, Jenny could relax and enjoy the spectacular food and setting. The second she lifted the silver spoon to her lips and tasted the lobster bisque, she forgot to be disappointed. It was Popsicle orange and silky-smooth, tasting of cream and sherry and the sea. She savored every drop, remembering to tilt the bowl away from her to catch the last bit rather than toward her, as the etiquette manual she had pored over in preparation for this trip instructed. She was sad when the soup was done, but then the main course arrived. Back home in Jenny’s house, they had roast turkey with all the sides, American and Puerto Rican both. Every Thanksgiving, there were sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top, stuffing that came from a box but tasted delicious, green bean casserole doused in onion soup with lots of cheese and fried onions, and then tostones, rice and beans, because they all loved that food, so why not? She felt a twinge of homesickness as the waiter set a plate of rarefied tidbits before her, but it vanished with her first bite. The turkey had been prepared en croûte, a tender breast wrapped in puff pastry and delicately seasoned. It was accompanied by spicy cranberry compote and two fluffy vegetable purees, one of sweet potato, the other of asparagus, both heavenly. Jenny knew what the dishes were only because of the dainty calligraphic menu that sat before her in a silver holder. She loved looking at this menu, and wondered if they would mind if she took it home. This must be what it was like to be the queen of England, or damn close anyway. She’d put up with grief from a scary dad and a jealous stepmother, in exchange for a life like this. But of course, if Keniston Eastman were Jenny’s father, he wouldn’t be angry with her. She would never give him reason to be.

As she ate, Jenny feasted her eyes on the beautifully appointed dining room. The windows were tall and elegant, framed by blue silk drapes with elaborate tassels. By far the most impressive feature of the room was a hand-painted mural that covered all four walls, depicting New York City in an earlier time, complete with sailing ships, and a family in eighteenth-century garb picnicking beneath a tree. Looking closer, Jenny saw that the family bore an uncanny resemblance to the Eastmans. It was them, she was certain – Keniston, Victoria, and their three towheaded monsters, enjoying a lovely spring day in the eighteenth century. But Kate and her half sister Louise were nowhere in sight. The artist had omitted them. They didn’t live in this house, and apparently they weren’t worthy of preserving in paint. Officially, they weren’t part of the family.

At the end of the meal, the other guests departed, and Jenny went up to Victoria and Keniston, thanked them profusely, and offered her services to help clean up.

“That’s not necessary,” Victoria said.

“But it’s a lovely offer,” Mr. Eastman said. “I’m glad you’re rooming with my daughter. If only some of your attitude would rub off on her.”

Jenny blushed. Kate, who had been moving toward them, smiled.

“Isn’t she awesome, Dad? I told you, I’m on the right track now. Look who I’m hanging out with.”

The heavy black eyebrows drew together. “It’s not so easy, Katherine. Come into the study. We need to talk.”

Kate’s face fell. As her father led her away, she glanced back over her shoulder at Jenny with a sick look.

It was an hour later when Kate found them in the library. They’d changed into their pajamas, and were hanging out on the sofa with the door half closed, looking at fashion magazines, afraid to make a sound.

“We have to go,” Kate said, her makeup streaked from crying. “I’m not sleeping under his goddamn roof tonight.”

“What happened?” Jenny said.

“That bastard,” Kate said, her jaw set.

“Did he cut you off?” Jenny asked.

“God, no. Leave me destitute? People would know, and it would reflect badly on him. But you should’ve heard the way he talked to me. I can’t stay here after that.”

“Kate,” Aubrey protested, “it’s after eleven o’clock.”

“I don’t give a shit what time it is,” Kate said.

Jenny saw that Kate was beyond consoling. “If we hurry, we can make the midnight train,” she said. “It’s a local, it gets into Belle River at six thirty tomorrow morning.”

“The dorms are closed till Sunday,” Aubrey said.

“I’ll call my parents,” Jenny said. “They can meet us at the station. You can both stay with me.”

“Thank you,” Kate whispered, drawing Jenny into a deep hug. “You always know what to do. You’re the best. Just absolutely the very best friend, ever. Aubrey, you too, my little lamb, I love you to pieces. Get over here. What would I do without you guys?”

Aubrey joined in the hug. The three of them stayed there holding each other like that for a long time, and Jenny thought that even if sometimes she hated Kate, and sometimes she got incredibly frustrated with Aubrey, she also loved them more than she’d thought it was possible to love friends, ever.

“Promise me,” Kate said, and Jenny realized that Kate was still crying.

“What?”

“We’ll never let anything come between us. Not a guy, nothing. We won’t hurt each other. We won’t screw up this amazing friendship.”

“Of course we won’t, silly. We love each other too much for that,” Aubrey said, tears standing out in her eyes.

“Do you promise?” Kate said.

“I promise,” Aubrey replied.

Kate turned to Jenny. “You, too. Say it.”

“I promise I won’t let anything come between us,” Jenny said.

She meant it, and yet Kate’s urgency left her uneasy. You didn’t demand a promise like that unless you had a premonition of bad things to come.