Perfect Little Ladies (25 page)

“Oh, we have lots of friends. We’re lucky like that.”

No one, of course, had to tell Alice the importance of having friends. She reached into her purse to make sure Elinor or none of the others had called. When she’d finally decided to bring Kiley Kate here rather than meeting Bud, she’d turned off her cell altogether. She’d decided that yes, her priorities were what they were. If Neal wanted a divorce, she’d deal with that, too. But she had her friends who would help. She, too, was lucky like that.

After two hours of giggles, they grabbed taxicabs back. As if she still was little, Kiley Kate snuggled up close to her grandmother. Alice kept one arm around her and one arm on the trophy.
Next stop: Philadelphia,
she thought with a grin.

But when they arrived at the hotel, Alice’s heart turned inside out: Bud, the theme-park magician, stood on one side of a palm tree; at the registration desk, stood Neal.

It was, of course, like a scene from a very bad movie that spiraled quickly downhill as Kiley Kate spotted her grandfather in the same instant Bud approached Alice.

“Hello,” Bud said.

“Hello,” Alice replied as Kiley Kate scampered toward Neal. Please God, she prayed, please don’t let this explode right here in the center court of the Grand Cypress. “Wasn’t it
a great performance? Good night now,” she said to Bud with a halfhearted smile, then turned from him and walked toward Neal, who was walking toward her.

“This is a surprise!” She tried to sound excited, which, of course, she was, not to mention that she was sweating to death. From the corner of her eye she saw Bud remain motionless, watching her watching Neal.

Neal kissed her cheek. “I flew down to see how my favorite girls were doing. I’m sorry I missed the show.”

“I won, Grampy! I won!”

Alice held up the trophy with the American flag and the tiny stars all around. “She won, all right. Our Kiley Kate is the best.”

Neal gave Kiley Kate a big hug, then said, “You must be tired. Let’s go to bed.”

“We have a petite suite, Grampy. Everything’s pink!”

“Pink!” Neal replied. “Well, that’s just what I’ve always wanted!”

“How was the dinner last night?” Alice asked, because she wanted to sound nonchalant.

“They canceled it until next week when they found out my wife couldn’t make it.”

If he was teasing, he was doing a great job.

“Let’s go,” he said. “I want to see our pink suite. By the way, I’ve extended our reservation until Sunday night. As long as we’re in Florida, we might as well have some fun, right?” He winked at Alice, then took Kiley Kate’s hand on one side and Alice’s on the other, and led his girls to the bank of elevators.

Alice noticed that Bud watched a few seconds more, then turned and went out the front door.

Forty-three

Saturday brought a break in the humidity. CJ
had taken the train out of Grand Central because the three-hour ride had seemed more endurable than the possibility of running into her sister and Mac at the airport.

She didn’t, in truth, even want to go. If it were for anyone other than Jonas, CJ would have made a polite excuse and stayed far from the fray.

At Union Station, she walked along the marble floors through the magnificent domed concourse of the terminal, past the dozens and dozens of specialty shops that made this more of a tourist attraction than a train depot. CJ knew she should stop in one or two or three places and choose an appropriate gift for Jonas and Lucinda, but she had no idea what
to give them, no thoughts on what could be special enough, meaningful enough. Besides, she was sidetracked by the life all around her: hustling, bustling, going-places-life. How could she think about gift-giving when right now she only wished she could fall into step behind someone, anyone, and follow them to their destination? Whatever it was, surely it would be less troublesome than hers.

But this is for Jonas!
she reminded herself.
A night to put all else aside and celebrate his love for Lucinda and her love for him!

Still, the gift would have to wait until she was thinking more clearly.

Juggling the garment bag and her suitcase, she stepped out onto Columbus Circle and found the queue for a cab. Elinor had suggested that Mac send a car, but CJ had declined. The less interaction she had with them now, the better. She suspected there would be drama soon enough, and until then, she had to stay focused.

Jonas. Lucinda.

At the desk of the Fairmont Washington D.C., she was told to go to reception on the Gold Floor, that her room was up there, that the cost had been taken care of. A bellman whisked away her bags, and CJ was told to “have a nice stay.”

She made her way up to the coveted floor and had barely given her name when she was led to her room. Her bags were already there; her escort quickly left her alone.

CJ tried to stay in the moment.

Overlooking the lush garden courtyard, the room was spacious and opulent, no doubt hand-selected by her sister. The large king-size bed was layered with white down; the period furnishings were tasteful and authentic. A vase filled with
two dozen yellow roses stood on the polished wood desk. No matter the venue, no matter the subtext, Elinor remained the impeccable hostess.

With a small sigh, CJ slipped out of her shoes. She meandered across the thick carpet to the roses and breathed in their sweet scent. She picked up the envelope propped against the vase.

An obligatory sentiment from her sister, no doubt. Or maybe from Mac?

She laughed at her misplaced naïveté, unsealed the envelope, and withdrew the card.

The handwriting was unmistakable. Her hand went slowly to her mouth, then her fingers slid to the base of her throat.

The florist said it was too late for tulips,
the card read,
but that roses are always in bloom. Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for being you. Much love, Jonas.

CJ sat on the bed, still holding the card. Then, one after another, tears slowly spilled from her eyes. And CJ suddenly knew the best gift she could give.

The room phone rang at six fifteen.

“Are you here? Are you ready? Why aren’t you downstairs?”

It was Elinor, of course. CJ sat on the edge of the bed and tried donning her Elinor armor. “I thought the party started at seven.”

“I need you now! You’re my family! The Perrys have dozens of relatives who’ve flown in from all over creation. For God’s sake, I’m all alone!”

CJ didn’t mention that perhaps Elinor should have insisted that Alice and Poppy be invited after all. They might not have been blood, but they were like family, which sometimes—like
now—could be even better. She also didn’t mention that she’d been ready for an hour and only had to slip into her gray silk. “Have you seen anything or anyone unusual?”

“Not yet. But how will I know if anyone is unusual? Half of Washington qualifies for that.”

Hopefully, not the half that would be at the party. “Shall I come down in ten minutes?”

“Make it five. Please. I’m not sure I’ll survive for ten.”

CJ hung up. She straightened the room, smoothed the bedcovers, took a last sniff of roses, then stepped out of her robe and into her party attire.

The band offered just the right balance of strings and brass, romance and zest. The Colonnade was a blend of Washington dignity and New York chic. If this had been Elinor’s affair and not Betts Perry’s, there might have been an appetizer of lemon confit chicken to accompany the champagne instead of the damn goat cheese mousse on crostini. Chicken was so much more universal than overblown goat cheese, and lemon complemented the wine.

But what did a few menu changes matter when one considered all that might have gone wrong? Still, Elinor smiled that she’d been able to keep herself together well enough to have noticed details like that.

Jonas seemed to be having a good time, as was everyone, except perhaps Janice, who noted her surprise that Elinor’s nails had been polished in ivory and not in a shade to match the peach-colored Versace. Elinor had laughed and told her daughter that was the latest in fashion, didn’t she know that? She could hardly have said Yolanda hadn’t brought her polish
to Grand Cayman, so Elinor had done her own nails that morning.

Thankfully, Janice hadn’t pressed that issue—or others—but had trotted off to the dinner bar to find the man Jonas said she’d been introducing as her boyfriend, though Elinor had not had the pleasure of meeting him. She was simply grateful that Janice had shown up at all. Just as she was grateful when Betts informed her that the vice president’s wife had phoned their regrets. “Remy’s down with the flu,” Betts bemoaned, and Elinor said, “What a pity,” then dug her heels into the travertine floor.

Across the room, Mac was occupied with a group of men and women Elinor had met, but she couldn’t recall if they were family or colleagues. It was so hard these days to tell anyone apart. When they’d first come to Washington, the politicians had mostly all been men. Now, it was all too confusing, and it meant she had to be on best behavior with everyone.

Which was especially difficult to accomplish when all she wanted was to go home and cry.

As her gaze traveled the room, she saw Jonas and Lucinda standing by the pastry table, talking with CJ. Lifting an espresso from a waiter’s silver tray, Elinor strolled over to join them.

“Mom,” Jonas said, “you won’t believe what Aunt CJ has done.”

Elinor realized that when her sister was nicely dressed, it was amazing how much they still looked alike. Both had their hair pinned up tonight, both looked soft and attractive. Sometimes Elinor thought she wanted CJ to pay more attention to her appearance because it was such a reflection—literally,
physically—of her. Elinor smiled. “I can’t imagine what your aunt CJ has done.”

“She’s given us the cottage,” Jonas said. “As a wedding gift.”

Elinor blinked.

“Only because they’ve agreed it comes with a dog,” CJ said. “Luna needs more people than solitary old me. She needs a real home. Hopefully, a family.”

Elinor was speechless, utterly speechless.

“I know Jonas wants to work in New York,” CJ continued, “so it only makes sense. Besides, this way it will stay in the family.”

“Yes,” Elinor said, “but—”

“But what about me?” CJ asked. “I’ve decided to go back to Paris. I’ve decided it’s time to pick up where I left off so long ago.”

It was all too much for Elinor to digest on top of the goat cheese mousse and the rest. “Well,” she said, “what a surprise.”

“We’re thrilled,” sweet Lucinda said.

“I’m sure,” Elinor replied.

The three went back to chattering about when CJ would leave, when Jonas would move in. Elinor drifted from the group, trying to decide if this news was acceptable or if it was not, and wondering how on earth life all around her was managing to go on while hers was on breath-stopping hold.

Elinor moved out to the garden, looked at the night sky, and wondered what Father would think of all that had gone on. Chances were he would not be surprised at his daughter’s transgressions (she was his after all), but he would be dis
pleased that she’d been caught. He would be
cross
, her mother’s favorite word.

He would have, however, continued to be proud of Catherine Janelle, because she’d be leaving town, the heroine again, having done what was best for the family.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Elinor turned and saw Congressman Perry navigating the terrace toward her.

“Oh, Congressman. Bill.” She smiled. “I’ve only come out for a breath of air. The party is wonderful; the children are so happy.”

“And so, thank God, is my wife.”

Elinor laughed. “Well, she’s done a marvelous job.” She did not mention the lemon confit chicken.

“And now she’s dancing with your husband.”

“With Malcolm?” Mac hated to dance, said he was born with two left feet and no right.

“Shamed him into it, she did. Said she’d get him in practice for the wedding reception.”

Elinor suddenly realized the band was playing a slow dance—something Mac detested the most. “He hates to dance. I should go rescue him.”

“Or you could come inside and dance with me.” He held out his hand and led her to the French doors. In too short an instant she was back in the party, now being held by the man with big hair and big hands, waltzed to the center of attention, right next to Malcolm and Betts.

It was then that the congressman leaned down and said in her ear, “I believe you and my wife have many things in common. For one thing, lavender is her favorite color.”

Elinor’s ears became blocked. Her head began swirling as if she’d been drugged. “What?”

“Lavender,” the congressman repeated. “It’s your special shade, isn’t it?”

She broke from his grasp. She was going to throw up. She raced from the dance floor, from the ballroom, out into the hallway. She frantically searched for the ladies’ room. She dashed inside, locked a door behind her, and quickly crumpled to the floor.

Forty-four

CJ had had enough of the party and felt it
was all right to call it a night. She cheek-kissed Jonas and Lucinda and went in search of Betts Perry just as Malcolm moved toward her with purpose.

“Help,” he uttered in a controlled whisper. “I don’t want to cause a scene, but I think Elinor’s sick.”

CJ supposed it had been too much to hope that the party would end up unflawed. “What happened? Where is she?”

“She was dancing with the congressman. Suddenly she broke away and ran from the room. Someone saw her duck into the ladies’ room.”

Well, that made no sense unless it was just as it seemed: that Elinor had simply become sick.

“I’ll check,” CJ said, and Mac followed her until she left him out in the hall.

Inside the ladies’ room, the stalls were not stalls but small rooms with brass-knobs and long louvred doors designed for the utmost privacy.

“E? Are you here?” CJ called out.

“Go away, CJ. It’s over.”