Good Christian Bitches (17 page)

“Did you say you’re dropping all charges?” she repeated, speaking slowly, as people who’ve had too much to drink often do—so as to keep others from recognizing just how drunk they really were.

Heather looked baffled. “They dropped the charges?” Sharon waved a hand to silence her.

“Why are they dropping the charges?” she asked into the phone.

“The woman whose card it was?” Martland said, sounding uncertain, as if the story were too hard for him to believe as well. “Actually, the woman whose name was on the card. A Ms. Amanda Vaughn.”

“I know whose name it is. Get to the point.”

“I’m trying, ma’am. It’s a little confusing on my end. But the point is this—the security department at Neiman Marcus asked her to come to the store this morning so that she could corroborate the story. Ms. Vaughn explained that the card was not hers, that she had never seen the card before in her life, that you therefore couldn’t possibly have stolen it, and that she was not interested in testifying against you in any way, shape, or form. When the district attorney heard that, he had no choice but to drop the case. I’m sure that Neiman’s is going to work out some sort of compensation for you for the . . . inconvenience you suffered.”

Sharon’s mouth formed a perfect O. Something she had perfected, as she had had much practice and experience.

“Are you . . . are you there?” Martland asked. “Did we lose the connection?”

“I’m here. I don’t know if I’m all here, but I’m here. So that’s the end of it? It’s over?”

“Except for the matter of how Neiman Marcus wants to compensate you for what you went through. Can you come by later this week?”

“This is all very hard to believe,” Sharon said slowly, trying to make sense of everything through her slight alcoholic haze. “I just want to make sure I heard you right. It’s over?”

“It’s over,” the detective confirmed. “Sorry for what you went through, ma’am.”

“That makes two of us.” She disconnected and put the phone back in her purse. Heather stared at her.

“The scoop? What was that all about?” she asked.

“They brought Amanda down to Neiman’s, to the security office. And she told them it wasn’t her card, even though it had her name on it. So I couldn’t possibly have stolen it from her. I guess without Amanda testifying against me, they had no case. So they dropped the whole thing.”

“They dropped the whole thing?” Heather repeated in disbelief.

“Except for the fact that the detective said that Neiman’s wants to compensate me for what I went through.” Sharon thought for a moment. “I guess that’s their way of making sure I don’t sue them.”

“Wow!” Heather said softly.

“Wow, is right,” Sharon repeated.

She thought for a long moment. “She never set me up,” she admitted sheepishly. “I just swiped that card. I figured it was Susie’s, and Amanda would never have even noticed it with everything going on. And she knew it. She didn’t have to get me off the hook with the police. I’ve got no idea what made her want to do that.”

“She’s just a kind person,” Heather said. Sharon pursed her lips and nodded.

“Yeah, she is. Unlike me.” Then she realized what she had done earlier, in Bible study, and she felt a sharp pain in her head. “I can’t believe what I did. She kept me from going to prison, but I dragged her name through the mud in Bible study. Do you have any idea how screwed I am?”

Heather thought for a moment, as Sharon caught the bartender’s eye, and this time raised two fingers, pointing to her drink. The bartender, surprised but not all that surprised, since he had been serving Sharon for years, nodded and set to preparing two double apple martinis.

“I don’t know how screwed you are,” Heather said, sipping her own drink and watching another two men in their early fifties arriving at the maître d’ stand. “But I’ve got the feeling that if I stick around, I’m gonna find out.”

A
cross town, at Nobu, Amanda nervously handed her car off to the valet, went into the restaurant, and approached the impossibly young, impossibly chic woman at the maître d’ stand.

“I’m looking for . . .” She realized she didn’t know whom she was looking for.

The girl actually had a photo of Amanda clipped to her reservation book. She smiled. “You are Ms. Vaughn. Please follow me.”

Amanda followed her past the main dining room and into one of the private dining rooms in the back. She ushered Amanda into the room, and a moment later, Thomas Harrington, Amanda’s high school classmate and the object of her four-year unrequited crush, stepped inside.

“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, putting a hand to her mouth. “Tom! It’s you!”

“It’s me, all right,” Tom said sheepishly, kicking off his fabulous Armani loafers and taking a seat on the floor at the small table opposite Amanda. “I hope it’s okay that it’s me.”

She shook her head slowly, as if to say, “Nothing could surprise me now.”

“Tom, you’re a married man! What are you doing showering all these crazy gifts on me?”

He shrugged. “I’m about as married as you are.” The news shocked Amanda.

“I thought you guys were great together,” she said, overwhelmed with disbelief. “You and Janie are one of the happiest couples in Dallas.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear, positive or negative, is all I can say,” Tom said philosophically. “Our marriage was never right from the beginning. The only good thing I can tell you is that we never had any kids.”

“But—but—I heard a lot of stories about what was going on back home when I was out in California. I never heard a word about the two of you.”

“We both wanted to keep it that way,” he said with a nod. “Janie’s starting a new life in Santa Fe with some painter she met. I was going to move out of Dallas for a year and go to Austria for the winter and ski and then just kind of travel around for a few months and figure out what I wanted to do next. And then I heard that you were coming back to town.”

“I’m living in your house,” Amanda said.

“I know. I’m your landlord.”

“That’s some coincidence.” She was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that Tom was Mr. Black Mercedes.

“It wasn’t much of a coincidence. I told Ann Anderson that if you rented any other house than mine, she’d never sell another house in Hillside Park—and I guess I’m one of the few people who could actually make that happen.”

“I guess you are,” Amanda agreed, flustered. “I’m sorry. I’m still just trying to come to grips with the fact that you’re the guy.”

“I’m the guy, all right,” he agreed with a grin, studying her to see exactly how she felt about the whole thing.

“Why did you have to do things on such a crazy scale?” she asked. “The Mercedes? The wardrobe? The donation to the Longhorn Ball? Why couldn’t you have just, I don’t know, sent flowers or chocolate like a regular guy?”

“Well, I know you’ve always wanted a black Mercedes and I knew better than to give you a watch. How’s that for an answer?”

“I’d really hoped everyone had forgotten that story,” Amanda said, mortified.

“And as far as the regular guy thing goes, I may be a lot of things,” Tom said, a hint of pride in his words, “but one thing I’m not now and I’ve never been is a regular guy. And you’re not exactly a regular girl. And remember, there are some people in Hillside Park who still don’t believe I was innocent of the drug smuggling charges—I thought you might be one of them.”

“How come you and Janie didn’t work out? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Aside from her . . . interest in the fine arts? It’s hard to say. She hates Mexico, and I was spending half my time there or more. We have a beautiful place in Mexico City—I have to stop saying
we
. It’s a hard habit to break.”

“Tell me about it,” Amanda said wryly.

“I’m sure I don’t have to,” he said. “And a place in Veracruz, and a really nice place in Acapulco. And another place in Zihuatanejo.”

“You sound more like a hotel chain than a human being,” Amanda joked.

“I like nice things,” Tom cheerfully admitted. “And nice places. And nice people. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. I feel the same way.”

“Janie didn’t. She had a very hard time, first with the amount of time my work took, and second, with the success we started to enjoy. I think all that high cotton was a little out of her comfort zone, if you know what I mean.”

“I suppose.”

“That didn’t keep her, or her lawyers, from asking for—and receiving—half of everything I built. But it’s okay. I’m sad that things went the way they did, but I don’t have any real hard feelings toward her. She definitely knocked me down from eighty-seventh to two-hundred-thirty-fourth on the Forbes list, but I’ll get over it. I’ll bounce back.”

“I admire your resiliency,” Amanda said, laughing. At that moment, a startlingly attractive Japanese woman entered with a large bottle of warm sake. She poured cups for the two of them and left through the room’s curtains.

“You a sake girl?” he asked.

“Not really, but I could become one for the evening, if that’ll help.”

“That’ll help,” he said. They toasted glasses and tasted the warm, sweet wine.

“So in your mind,” Amanda began, “a black Maybach, the perfect wardrobe at Neiman’s—that’s the equivalent of candy and flowers. What do you do if you really like a girl?”

“I don’t know,” Tom admitted, grinning. “I haven’t really liked anybody aside from Janie since I met her. Now that she’s off with Leonardo da Vinci over in Santa Fe, I guess I’ve got some time to find out. Before Janie, it was you, but you had to go run off with what’s his name.”

Amanda blushed. “Didn’t you think maybe you were pushing a little too far, too fast?” Amanda took a second sip of the sake.

“I haven’t been in the ‘dating scene’ for ten years,” Tom said sheepishly. “I was never a man for small gestures. In any aspect of my life.”

“I’ve been out of it for a while myself,” Amanda noted ruefully. “Who knows? Maybe this is how everybody does things. Dropping off cars and wardrobes. But somehow I doubt it.”

“Me too.” Tom sipped his sake and smiled.

“Why all the secrecy? Why couldn’t you have just come out and said, ‘It’s me and let’s have dinner’?”

“You know how it is in Hillside Park. Tongues wag. It seems like every kind of communication you make can be intercepted. I just thought it might be more interesting if we did it this way.”

“Well, you certainly had me guessing. . . . Oh. You’re not going to like this. After I sent back the clothes to Neiman’s, they gave me a gift card, but I didn’t really . . . keep it. It’s kind of a long story.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“I don’t really want to relive it right now,” Amanda said shaking her head. “Some other time. Anyway, I can make it up to you.”

“It’s not enough money for me to worry about,” he said, dismissing it.

Amanda paused. She thought ninety-eight thousand dollars was enough for anybody to worry about, but, she figured, maybe she was wrong.

“How do you like the house?” Tom asked.

“It’s perfect. It’s beautiful. We love it. I guess you miss it.”

Tom thought before he spoke. “I miss the house. But I don’t exactly miss some of the memories.”

“I know exactly what you mean by that.”

“I’ll bet you do. Rumor has it that you had a pretty tough go of it out in California.”

“Well, for once rumor has it correct. It wasn’t a lot of fun.”

“It never is.” An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of them.

He finally broke it. “I didn’t even ask you if you like sushi,” he said apologetically.

“You didn’t even ask me if I liked you enough to have dinner with you,” Amanda replied, giving him a small grin.

“Well, do you?”

“Do I what? Like sushi or like you?”

“You can take any part of the question you want.”

“I like sushi just fine.” Her smile widened. “The jury’s still out on you.”

“Fair enough.” Tom studied the dinner selections. “So you’ve taken over the Longhorn Ball.”

“It’s the other way around,” Amanda said, studying the offerings. “I think the Longhorn Ball has taken over me.”

“Why is that?” Tom asked, closing his menu.

“I wouldn’t even know how to begin to answer that question,” she said wearily. “First, Susie left the office in the most disgraceful state imaginable. Second, if it were any other organization or business, they’d be throwing her in jail for malfeasance and stealing cash. Third, it feels like there’s some sort of conspiracy in town to keep me from succeeding. There’s not a single woman in Hillside Park who’s willing to help out in any way, shape, or form. And fourth, I don’t know if there’s a vendor in the state of Texas who will have anything to do with us. I don’t think Susie paid a single bill all last year. How’s that for starters?”

Tom considered all of those factors. “Well, how’d you get roped into chairing the Ball in the first place?”

“Roped into it is exactly the right phrase,” Amanda said. “A couple of women approached me and asked me to do it, and I just figured, I’ve got nothing else going on. I thought it might integrate me back into the neighborhood. Instead, I feel like I’ve turned into an untouchable, overnight. It’s been really bizarre.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, rubbing his chin. “You’re not going to send my check back, the same way you sent back the car and the clothes, are you?”

“It all depends,” she answered coyly. “Were you sending the check because you want to support the Pediatric Foundation, or because you were trying to get my attention?”

“Both,” he admitted with a smirk. “Is that an acceptable answer?”

“It’ll have to be,” Amanda said, matching his expression. “Let’s order.” The waitress appeared.

“I think we’re ready,” Amanda said.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Tom replied.

“I mean to order. There you go again.”

Tom smiled, and they ordered dinner.

E
lizabeth was waiting when Amanda returned at close to eleven p.m.

“And the mystery man is?” she asked as Amanda let herself in.

“My landlord,” she replied, shaking her head. “And the boy I was crazy about all through high school. Tom Harrington.”

Elizabeth pondered the surprising news. “Well, I’ll be. And did we have a nice time with our landlord?”

Amanda looked thoughtful. “We did.”

“I thought he was a happily married man . . . You want to talk about this for a minute? Or do you want to get some sleep, so we can get ready to be bludgeoned by all the women in the neighborhood again tomorrow morning at the Ball office?”

“Let’s talk. I need to debrief.”

They headed for the living room. Amanda flopped onto the couch, while Elizabeth took a chair opposite her. “Do tell,” Elizabeth said, fighting the urge to straighten the pillows on the sofa.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Amanda said. “Tom’s wife left him for an artist. She took half his money and went to Santa Fe.”

“Leaving your husband for an artist, and taking half your husband’s money to Santa Fe,” her mother repeated, impressed. “Why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Because you were too good a wife even to harbor such thoughts.”

“I’m not quite as good as you think, but that’s a story for another day.”

Amanda wanted to ask what she meant, but thought better of it, filing it away for another time.

“So we just had a really nice time,” she went on. “He’s actually pretty shy, for someone as successful as he is, which explains those crazy gifts. It didn’t seem to bother him at all that he wasn’t getting his ninety-eight thousand back from Neiman’s.”

“My kind of guy,” Elizabeth said admiringly. “Is there a future between the two of you?”

“If I want there to be one,” Amanda answered with a sigh. “I just feel like the timing’s off. The ink isn’t dry on either of our divorces. You know what I mean?”

“Ink can dry in a hurry. I wouldn’t let this one get away.”

“It’s weird living in his house.” Amanda glanced around the living room. “It’s almost a little creepy.”

“As long as he’s got half of his money left, he could donate this house to the Longhorn Ball and buy you fifty more. He’s incredibly wealthy, you know.”

Amanda nodded. “His divorce knocked him from the top half of the Fortune 400 to the bottom half, but that’s still pretty impressive territory.”

“It impresses the hell out of me,” her mother said. “There’s more to a man than money, but if you want my opinion, there’s not much more. So what did you guys talk about all that time? You must have been together for three hours.”

Amanda leaned back on the couch. “This and that . . . Our marriages. Our divorces. Our exes. Mexico. Italy. And the Longhorn Ball.”

“What about the Ball? . . . Oh, and I checked our account. Most of those checks we deposited didn’t clear. I hope you’re going to accept his donation. Otherwise, we’re so upside down, it’s not even funny.”

“I am. And I think he’s going to help out with the Ball.”

“Help out? How?”

“It doesn’t look like we’re getting any support from the ladies. It looks like I’ve been totally frozen out. Even the paranoid have real enemies, right? So he wanted to know if he could get together with a bunch of his friends and get things lined up. He said he and his buddies could have the ball organized in a New York minute.”

“But what about the members?” Elizabeth asked, looking concerned. “How are they going to feel about a man taking a leadership position in the Ball?”

“If they’re not willing to get involved,” Amanda said flatly, “I don’t see where they get to have an opinion.”

“I suppose you’re right. So how did you leave it?”

“We’re just going to take it slow.”

“No more cars?” Elizabeth asked, teasing. “No more shopping sprees at Neiman’s?”

“None of any of that. I told him the ground rules. No presents, normal dates. And we both decided we wouldn’t meet anywhere near Hillside Park. I want to keep this out of the gossip mill for as long as humanly possible.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if there was already a video of you guys on TMZ.com.”

“Mom, how do you know about TMZ.com? You’re not exactly an Internet person.”

“Will was showing me all kinds of stuff on the computer,” Elizabeth said. “I’ve got a feeling you don’t want to leave that boy alone with a laptop. I don’t know what he’s liable to download.”

“That’s just great . . . another thing to add to my long list of problems with Will! I’m starting to feel completely overwhelmed by all this, Mom. I’ve never had this much difficulty in all areas of my life simultaneously.

“What do I do with Will, how do I run a women’s non-profit and have a Ball with no women wanting to help, and how do I keep Tom and me off the Internet?”

Elizabeth grinned. “All of a sudden, it’s ‘Tom and me’? My, don’t we work fast?”

Amanda waved a hand dismissively. “Just stop it . . . I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. I gotta get to bed. We’ve got another long day of rejection and failure ahead of us at the Ball office.”

“I’m worn out just thinking about it,” Elizabeth said as they both stood. “You know, I bet he kept a key,” she added, picking up her purse and heading for the front door.

“A key to what? And who are you talking about?”

“Tom, of course. And I’m talking about a key to this house. I’d use the dead bolt. Unless you want to just leave the door ajar.”

“Mother!” Amanda feigned exasperation.

“Sweet dreams!” Elizabeth called over her shoulder as she headed out the door. “In Tom’s bedroom, no less!”

“Mom, you stop it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She shook her head in mock disapproval at her mother and headed upstairs to bed. My mother is hilarious and awesome, Amanda thought gleefully. How has it taken me this long to figure that out?

Across town, phone lines were burning. Amanda and Tom had been seen together, and by midnight, almost everyone in Hillside Park knew about it.

Heather hesitated to call Sharon, because she knew how deeply Sharon had always fantasized about being Mrs. Thomas Harrington, but Heather figured if she didn’t break the news, someone else would. On top of that, there was a certain sick thrill in passing along news that was potentially devastating, even to a friend. Not that she didn’t love Sharon wholly and completely—she’d give her right arm for her best friend. But after all, what were best friends for, if not to impart a little suffering here and there?

“Sharon, honey?” Heather asked when Sharon answered.

“Is everything okay?” Sharon sat up in bed, yawning.

“Something you need to know.” Heather went right to the point. “It’s, like, kind of a big deal. Amanda’s mystery suitor. It’s Tom.”

Sharon blinked repeatedly. “Tom? As in Tom Harrington? Am I dreaming?”

“No, no, sweetie. It’s true. She was at Nobu with Tom. In a room in the back. Obviously trying to keep a low profile. As if that were possible.”

“Of all the men,” Sharon said, unable to keep the shock she felt from affecting her tone. “How sure are you about this?”

“I’m absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure. Dead certain.”

Sharon was livid. “This just won’t do,” she said bitterly. “Of all the men! I never even had a chance with him!”

“Do what you gotta do.”

“You bet I will. Now it’s personal.”

“As if it wasn’t before?” Heather purred.

“Now it’s really personal.”