Newton Neighbors (New England Trilogy) (39 page)

“Did you see there’s a guy living in the old Wiswall place?”

“Yeah, he found our dog for us a few weeks ago. It’s old man Wiswall’s grandson. Did you hear the old man died?”

Greg shook his head. “He was a private sort of guy. Never really knew him.”

“The grandson seems a lot friendlier.”

“Good. We need some new blood in the neighborhood,” Michelle said. “Rick, would you like to stay for something to eat?”

He wanted to, but shook his head. “Thanks, Michelle, but Cody has school in the morning. I better get him home and into bed.”

“Maria will be worrying,” Greg said.

If only
, Rick thought.
If only
.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Botox and Bollinger

Another week whizzed by, and with only a few days to Christmas, Rick’s workload seemed to be diminishing. He looked around his office at three o’clock and was stunned to see he was the only one left. Okay, it was a Saturday and nobody should have been in anyway, but the agency had ramped up to a seven-days-a-week workplace months ago with no sign of abatement until today.

“Bah humbug,” he said to himself as he left the office.

He hadn’t given any thought to buying Maria a present. What was the point? They weren’t even speaking, so a present was way down on his list of priorities. Then for some reason he thought about his mother. If she were alive, she’d smack him. It was Christmas. He should buy his wife the biggest, brightest thing he could afford and maybe manage to end this stupid fight. Rick was driving out of Boston on Route 9 when an ad came on the radio for Bloomingdale’s in Chestnut Hill. It claimed to have one of the finest fur vaults in New England. It was right on his path home. Rick could get something very nice in there that would melt even the coldest heart.
 

It didn’t take him long to get talked into a magnificent full-length chestnut brown fur. He had no idea what animal it came from, but he felt skinned alive when his credit card was processed for the purchase. Who knew a garment could cost so much? Rick didn’t let himself think about the cost. He was working damn hard, and his year-end bonus was one of the benefits. Maybe if he blew the whole thing on Maria, she would forgive him for the hours he worked.

“I know it’s a little early, but Merry Christmas,” he said to her as soon as he got home. It was the first full sentence between them in weeks.

She looked stunned. “Ricky? It’s not even Christmas yet.”

He smiled. “I know, but open it anyway. If you don’t like it you can exchange it.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. He knew she’d already spotted the big Bloomingdale’s bag. That was enough to brighten any woman’s day.

“Oh, Ricky.” She stared at him, wide-eyed with excitement, as she unfolded the white tissue paper inside the box.

“You like?”
 

“I love.”

“I love, too,” he said looking into her eyes.

Maria put the fur down and reached for her husband. He hugged her tight and wouldn’t let her go. It felt like coming home, and he thought he might cry. The fight had been bad, their worst ever. Six weeks of fighting was insane.
 

“Oh, God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered into her ear.

“I’ve missed you, too. What the hell went wrong?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t want it to happen again, please, Maria. I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

She squeezed him just as tight. “Nor I you.”

Just then Cody ran into the room and saw his parents wrapped around each other. He slapped his forehead. “Aw man, get a room,” he said, making them laugh.

“Sounds like an idea.” Rick said it too quietly for his son to hear, but Maria did.
 

She winked at him and mouthed one word. “Later.”

They agreed to order pizzas, and Ricky insisted they open a bottle of champagne because it was the weekend before Christmas. Cody was on Christmas break from school, and Alice was in great form because she had already opened her first present—a plastic school bus with lights and buttons that spun and flashed.
 

“What more could a girl want?” Rick said.

“A full-length fur?” Maria winked.

That evening, Rick was snuggled on the sofa with Maria as they watched television with Cody and Alice. It was pretty obvious they didn’t want to go to Cathi’s housewarming party. The invitation had arrived a few days before and was sitting on the mantelpiece staring at both of them. Ricky said that Michael had begged him to come early.

“I’m not sure I’m even invited,” Maria said.

He pulled back from her and looked at his wife. “Why would you say that? You’re Cathi’s best friend.”

“Not anymore. We had an argument last week.” She sounded unsure of herself.
 

“Whoa, you were fighting with her, too?” Ricky was teasing, but he saw the look of impatience flash across Maria’s face. They were still on shaky ground—it wasn’t a good idea to stir things up.

Maria sat upright on the sofa. “Look, it’s a long story, and I don’t think I should tell you but she’s . . . she’s being very unfair to Michael.”

Cody looked at his parents. It was obvious he was listening, and Maria stopped talking. Rick put his arm around his wife and pulled her back onto the sofa again.
 

“Don’t worry about it. She’s been moving house, getting ready for a big party—all of this on top of being pregnant. It’s too much. Forget about your argument. It’ll all blow over. But we have to go to the party, babe. Not going would be rude. We don’t have to stay long.”

She sank deeper into the sofa and into him, and he didn’t want to move either.
 

“Here, drink some more champagne and you’ll feel better. Who’s sitting for the kids?”

“Ely, from next door. Noreen is going to the party, and Jessie has been roped in to help with the catering. That’s another thing I’m fed up with. She stole my sitter.”

Ricky laughed. “You don’t own Jessie, and Ely is a lovely girl, too. Cody will be old enough in a few more years. Hey, how about that?”

Cody thumped his fist in the air. He was still listening to them. Ricky felt a jolt of guilt. His son was watching every move they made, maybe scared they would fight again.
 

Maria pulled away and stood up. “Okay, in that case, I better go freshen up and call to confirm with Ely. I told her it was a provisional booking because I didn’t know if I was going to go, but I think you’re right. We should make the effort—but not for long, okay?”

“Okay.” He looked at his wife and gave a little smirk. He liked the idea of getting home early with his wife, and they both knew why.

Cathi was putting the finishing touches to her makeup when her daughter shouted up the stairs at her. “Mom, the salon lady is here.”
 

Cathi called down from the bedroom door. “Bring her into the study to set up. I’ll be down in a minute.” One of the disadvantages of a larger house was the need to shout just to be heard, and then of course, annoyingly, everybody else heard, too.

Michael walked into their bedroom. “A stylist? Aren’t you leaving it a bit late to get pampered, honey? People will be arriving any minute.” He winked at her playfully.
 

“I told you about this, Michael. She’s here as entertainment for the party. It’s Botox at all the best parties these days.”

“She’s dishing out Botox? You can’t be serious!” He put his hands to his head in horror.

“Only to those who want it, dear. She’s a registered aesthetician. It’s all above board and legal—more than I can say for the cocaine years of the nineties.”

“We never went to one of those parties.” He held himself a little higher, indignant.

She was facing the mirror but glanced back to him. “Didn’t you?”

“Cathi, this is insane. We agreed that this was just a get-together for a few Newton neighbors to celebrate the holidays. But Botox? Come on!”

She stomped her foot and glared at him in annoyance. “No, Michael, we talked about it. You approved it. Remember? I said it would nice if we presented the neighbors with some sort of festive gift.”

“Yes, and I suggested mistletoe.”

“That’s right, and then I laughed and said, ‘How about a Botox and Bollinger party?’ ”

Michael’s face looked blank. “Did you say that? Well, if you did, I didn’t hear you. We’re certainly not serving Bollinger are we?”

She didn’t answer but gave him a guilty look.

“Oh God, you’ve got to be kidding me. We’re serving Bollinger champagne? Do you know how much that stuff costs? It’s the most expensive champagne there is!”

“I got it at Costco.”

Michael ran his hands through his hair, something he only did when he was very stressed. Cathi noted it was getting grayer. She would have to deal with that in the New Year. He stormed out of the room, and she heard him bounding down the stairs—maybe heading to where Jessie and Bruce were setting up.

Cathi checked her reflection in her full-length mirror again. She knew her Botox and Bollinger conversation with Michael earlier in the week had gone too well. She’d thought he understood what she wanted to do, but it was pretty clear this evening he hadn’t. Perhaps he had thought she was joking. Well, now he knew otherwise. This was going to be the biggest and best party of the holiday season on the best road in Newton.
 

She had done it. She made it to the top of the Boston social totem pole. Now that she was here, all she had to do was throw a fabulous party and her name would be in society columns before she could say
VIP
. She knew she could do it. She had never doubted it. The problem was finding the budget and convincing her husband to live the high life with her. Michael was a bit more discreet than she was—silly old man. She would show him. Once they got a reputation as big players, he would suddenly start to get invitations to big-ticket events. Next would come top-tier networking. Who knew where it might end? He could get asked to be on various boards of directors, and they would end up rubbing shoulders with sports celebrities. The sky was the limit, and she was getting them there. Everybody knew Boston was where the big business deals went down in America.
 

She studied her reflection. Her hair had been highlighted just a little more than usual. She wore a black sheath dress that was very flattering on her slim form. She had bought it new for the party, and it was the most expensive dress she had ever bought, but what choice did she have? If she wanted to play with the big boys, she had to dress the part. Pity she couldn’t convince Michael to revamp his wardrobe. That would come, she assured herself, as soon as he began to see the fruits of her labor.

“Cathi,” Michael called from downstairs.
 

“Damn,” she said. He sounded angry, but she didn’t know which he was more annoyed about—the Botox or the Bollinger. A quick visit to the toilet and then she would find him, to calm him down. Cathi glanced at her watch and wondered if she could manage a quick romantic interlude before the guests arrived. That always worked when he was mad. Before she found him, however, she found out her period had arrived.

“Of all the times,” she said to herself in the bathroom. “Now where did I hide all the tampons?”