Chasing Perfect (8 page)

“I'll go with a glass of wine,” Charity said.

“Playing it safe on your first night. Probably wise. Pick a color.”

“White.”

Jo got a glass and poured. After she handed it to Charity, she leaned against the counter. “So you're our new city planner. How are you liking Fool's Gold?”

“I love it here. All my small-town fantasies are coming true.”

Jo laughed. “I moved here about three years ago. From the east coast. It was quite a change, but a good one. The people are friendly. Pia invited me to join her and her friends. They made me feel very welcome.”

Charity glanced toward the living room. “I appreciate the invitation. I want to get to know people.”

“You will.”

A pretty blonde walked into the kitchen and sighed. “I need more. Pia's drunker than me and I was supposed to be the drunkest one at the party.” She smiled at Charity. “Hi, I'm Katie and please don't think badly of me.”

“I won't.”

“I don't usually drink very much.”

“Or at all,” Jo muttered. “Speaking as someone who owns a bar, you're a real disappointment in that department.”

“I know.” Katie leaned against the counter. “But tonight's different. My sister's getting married.”

Charity felt confused. “And that's a bad thing?”

“The groom and I were dating when they met. For nearly a year. He'd bought me an engagement ring. But before he gave it to me, he met my sister and they kicked me to the curb.”

“Ouch,” Charity said. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. He was a jerk,” Katie told her.

Charity had a feeling that was the alcohol talking more than her heart.

“The worst part is that the wedding is a four-day party up at the Lodge,” Jo added.

“I need a date and I don't have one.” Katie hiccupped softly.

“There's always Josh,” Jo offered.

Katie rolled her eyes. “I need a date with a guy people will believe I'm actually seeing. There's no one. And now my mother is offering to set me up with her best friend's son. Howie.”

Charity tried to muffle a laugh. “Okay, it's not a traditionally romantic name, but he could be great.”

“I met him back when we were kids. He's a total nerd, and not in a good way. We hated each other, and I get to spend four days with him. Someone just shoot me now.”

“How about another margarita?” Jo asked.

“That works, too.” Katie looked at Charity. “Are you happily married or dating? Because I'll warn you—in this crowd, you'd be the only one.”

“Sorry, no. I have a string of bad breakups, as well.”

“Bummer,” Katie mumbled. “What's wrong with us?”

“Nothing,” Jo said firmly. “You don't need a man to be happy.”

“Try telling that to my whoo-whoo. It hasn't seen action in nearly a year.”

Now Charity did laugh. Fortunately Katie didn't seem to notice.

“There's Crystal,” she said. “At least she was happy before.”

Jo poured another drink. “Crystal's husband was
killed in Iraq.” She glanced toward the doorway, then lowered her voice. “She's sick. Cancer. So she doesn't drink. Just so you don't offer her anything.”

Charity thought about Pia's friend. “She looks fine.”

“Right now things are good. We're hoping the treatment can kill the cancer without taking her, too.”

“How awful. Does she have children?” Bad enough for them to lose their father, but now to be worried about their mother.

“Not exactly.”

Charity would have blamed her confusion on the wine, only she hadn't yet taken a sip. “What do you mean?”

“They froze some embryos before her husband went off to Iraq. Just in case. She was planning to have them implanted, but the lymphoma was discovered during the routine physical. She wants to get better so she can have her babies.” Jo poured herself a glass of red. “Sometimes, life's a bitch.”

Charity didn't know what to say. “I'm sorry.”

“We all are and there's nothing any of us can do. That's the worst part. Well, not for Crystal, obviously.” Jo shook her head. “I think I've had too much to drink. I don't usually go on like this. Come on. Let's get back to the girls.”

Charity followed Jo and Katie into the living room where she did her best not to stare at Crystal. Talk about sad.

“Are you enjoying Fool's Gold?” one of the women asked.

“No one cares about that,” Desiree said with a laugh. “I want to know what she thinks of Josh.”

The room went silent as every pair of eyes focused on Charity. She froze, her glass of wine halfway to her lips.

“Excuse me?”

“You're living at that hotel with him,” Desiree said with a laugh. “Tell us everything.”

Charity put down the wine. “I, ah, don't live with him. I have a room at the hotel.” There was no way she was going to mention they were in rooms right next to each other. Talk about trouble. “I've met him a few times and he seems nice.”

“Have you gone out on a date?” one woman asked.

“No. Of course not.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Charity's new to our evil ways. Don't scare her off the first night. There hasn't been much news on the Josh front lately, so they're hungry for gossip about their favorite topic.”

“He's a favorite topic?”

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Crystal chuckled.

“He's gorgeous,” Desiree said with a sigh. “That face, that body.”

“That butt,” Pia muttered from the couch.

“She lives,” Jo said. “Hang in there, honey. It'll get worse before it gets better, but you'll survive.”

“There are other good-looking men in town,” Charity said.

“Maybe. But no one is like Josh,” Desiree told her. “It seems like he hasn't had a real fling in a while.”

“There was that ski instructor,” Crystal said.

“That was last year. I can't think of anyone.” Desiree looked hopefully at Charity. “Unless you want to confess something.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, but we've barely had any contact.” No way she was going to rat him out, she thought. This was a tough crowd. “Besides, I don't think I'm his type.”

“If you're female, you're his type,” a woman across the room said.

Everyone laughed.

Not true, Charity thought, remembering the pain in Josh's eyes. He'd been right—the town did have high expectations. A case could be made that they were completely unrealistic. No wonder he didn't want to expose any weakness.

“She's really not,” Pia said, pushing herself into a more stable seated position. “You could be, but you're not.”

Charity didn't know how to take that. “Meaning?”

“You dress, like, so plain. Those boxy dresses and jackets. I know you need to look professional for work, but dear God. Show a little skin.”

Crystal put her arm around Pia and whispered something in her ear. She smiled apologetically at Charity. “She's not herself.”

Charity smiled back, but on the inside, she was
squirming. What was wrong with her clothes? Of course she dressed conservatively. She was representing the town.

She told herself Pia was drunk and that her comments didn't mean anything, but that didn't stop Charity from blushing and wishing she could bolt for freedom. No one was looking at her, but the lack of attention was so pointed, it was as if everyone was staring at her.

Jo made a comment about a movie opening on Friday and conversation shifted. After a few minutes, Charity excused herself to use the restroom.

Once inside, she locked the door, then leaned against it, as if she had to catch her breath. After a moment, she walked toward the mirror and studied her reflection.

She could only see herself from the waist up. Although she'd gone back to the hotel before coming here, she hadn't bothered to change, so she was still in the long-sleeved dress she'd worn all day.

The fabric was a cotton blend, in solid navy. A case could be made that it was a little too big, but she preferred her clothing loose. The jacket she'd worn with it was a tad boxy, but well-tailored.

As usual, she'd blown out her brown wavy hair until it was straight, then pulled it back into a braid. She wore small gold hoops, minimal makeup and a plain inexpensive watch. As she continued to study herself, she realized the best she could come up with was that she was clean.

“When did I start dressing like someone in her eighties?” she demanded, then realized she was doing seniors a disservice.

She sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her temples. After graduating from college, she'd found a great job in Seattle. She'd been the youngest person on the mayor's staff and had found herself being dismissed whenever she made a suggestion. When she dressed older and went for a more conservative look, she'd been taken more seriously.

When she'd moved to Henderson, a suburb of Las Vegas, she'd continued to wear clothes more suited to someone a couple of decades older. That had worked for her. But somewhere along the way, she'd lost herself in the look. She'd stopped paying attention to herself. Maybe she'd stopped caring.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. Charity stood and smoothed the front of her dress.

She opened the door and was surprised to see Crystal standing there.

“I don't mean to pry or anything,” the other woman said. “But are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“Pia is actually really nice. I'm sure she didn't mean anything by what she said.”

Charity stepped into the hallway and tried to smile. “I know. It's the heartache and margaritas talking. Not that she wasn't speaking the truth. I'm frumpy and I can't figure out exactly how I let that happen. Or when!”

“They say acknowledging the problem is the first step in healing.” Crystal's blue eyes danced with humor as she spoke. “You're really pretty. You just need to play up your assets.”

“I need a new wardrobe.” She brushed the front of her dress again, feeling self-conscious about the old-fashioned fit.

“Easily done. That's why we all have credit cards.”

“I've been letting mine get dusty for far too long.”

“Then you should go shopping this weekend.”

“Believe me, I will.”

“Good for you,” Crystal told her. “Retail therapy is the best kind.”

They walked toward the kitchen. Charity found herself not wanting to go back to the group. The need to run and hide was fairly powerful and not very comfortable. But before she could think of an excuse, Crystal spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“We have a fundraiser every year called Race for the Cure. We support childhood diseases, mostly cancer. I'm on the committee and we're heading into our busy time. I can't…” She glanced away and cleared her throat. “I'm really busy and don't have the time I need. Anyway, I was wondering if I could talk you into taking my place.”

Charity was grateful Jo had told her about Crystal's illness. With that information, she knew how to avoid misstepping.

“I'd love to be a part of that,” she said.

Crystal looked surprised. “I was prepared to twist your arm and everything.”

“I want to get involved with the community,” she said. “This gives me a perfect way to do something good while meeting people.”

“Then we both win,” Crystal said. “Thank you.”

A burst of laughter came from the living room.

“Looks like we're missing the party,” Crystal said. “Shall we?”

Charity nodded and followed her back into the crowded room. She was determined to ignore her feelings of frumpiness, all of which could be healed fairly easily. Better to spend her time getting to know the women here. She wanted to fit in, and friends would make the transition easier.

Jo handed her the glass of white wine. “You're way behind us on the drinking, young lady.”

“Then I'd better catch up.”

 

T
HREE HOURS LATER
, Charity made her way back to the hotel. She was in a much more mellow mood, the result of plenty of laughter and maybe a bit too much wine. The women had been a lot of fun, she thought. Jo was great, as was Crystal. Katie had kept them laughing with stories about the potential disaster that was Howie. And Charity had let go her sense of living as a fashion don't. She would go shopping over the weekend and see what people her
age wore when they weren't trying out for a religious order.

She reached the hotel and thought briefly about taking the elevator to the third floor. But she was determined to walk off the nacho calories she'd eaten at Jo's.

On the second floor, she walked to the smaller staircase that would take her to the third. She'd barely taken two steps, when the lights went out.

The darkness was as absolute as it was unexpected. Charity heard doors open on the floor below and above, and people talking. There was more laughter than panic in their voices.

She kept hold of the railing and carefully continued to climb to her floor. Once there, she would probably be able to find her way to her room. Not that she was sure she could get in. Did a card key lock work off a battery or electricity?

When she neared what she thought was the top of the stairs, she went more slowly. She felt carefully with her foot, took another step and bumped into something warm and solid and male.

It took her brain less than a second to register the heat, size and scent of the man. Her belly flipped over, her thighs began to hum softly as her fingers curled tighter around the banister.

“You all right, Charity?” Josh asked.

Surprise joined the other sensations. “How did you know it was me?”

“Your perfume.”

Actually it was her hair conditioner, but saying that made her sound as conservative as her clothes, so she kept quiet.