Spinster? (2 page)

Did they really need crab puffs served by perspiring waiters? And would anyone notice if she leaned on the brick wall by the courtyard fountain? Tess shifted her weight, doing her best to focus on the conversation buzzing around the small group she now found herself a part of. Abigail Archer's inane babbling about her attempt to redecorate her daughter's room didn't help distract her from her current state of discomfort. Fabric swatches and dainty chandeliers—who the hell cared? All she wanted was a freaking chair. Apparently it was a riveting topic if the, "Oohs" and "that sound precious" were any indication.

"If you would all please enter the ballroom, the bride and groom have arrived," a tuxedoed gentleman announced.

"Thank God!" Tess blurted, earning her strange looks from her well coifed audience. "I'm just so anxious to congratulate Clarissa," she covered. "Excuse me, ladies." Ladies her ass, more like stuck-up bitches.
 

Tess did her best not to stomp into the ballroom, which looked like a fairy tale with pale flowers and whips of ivory gauze strewn about. She wouldn't be able to enjoy it until she was off of her feet. The problem was she wasn't sure where her name card resided. She scanned the room and when she spotted her sister Bristol, her designated round was revealed, covered in white linen. Her parents were also seated. Their chairs were high-backed painted in silver. Thankfully there was a towering glass vase between her and her parents. The last thing Tess needed was her mother eagle eyeing the amount of champagne she intended to consume. She needed to be good and buzzed for what was coming...what always came to pass at these things.
 

"Such a lovely wedding. Don't you think so, Tess?"
And here we go
...

"Yes, mother, it was. Almost as nice as her first one." Apparently the vase was no match against her mother's scrutiny, nor was it an effective sound barrier to the dismissive sound her mother made in response to her sarcasm.
 

"So young, yet she's had two men propose."
 

Tess wanted to point out that Clarissa's first husband had slept with half the bridesmaids after they were married. And she was pretty sure husband number two was gay, but her mom would have claimed she just was being bitter and jealous, so Tess bit her tongue. "Yes, she's quite a lucky girl. How
does
one attract such wonderful partners?"
 

"Well, it isn't by working over fifty hours a week, I'll tell you that," her mother continued. Tess inhaled through her nose. If her mom started in on her job again she was going to need some shots.

"Especially when it pays so little, darlin'," her father chimed in. Really? Dad was joining the let's give Tess a hard time about her life? It wasn't like she'd never had a boyfriend. There was the one, way back when, but he was more like a bed buddy. She knew there'd been others, but was too annoyed to scroll through her male database.
 

Her sister remained silent—shocker. She wasn't one to come to Tess's defense on most occasions, certainly not against William and Tiffani Warner, their esteemed parents. They weren't really that bad. They—they being her mother—weren't that good either, especially when it came to the subject of her choice of career and her current, and seemingly perpetual, lack of plus one status. She couldn't have a conversation with her mom without it somehow finding it's way back to the same topics she played like a symphony. Her instrument of choice, the harp.

"Maybe you're too picky, Tess. Women of a certain age shouldn't have such high standards," her mom suggested.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to settle?" Women of a certain age? Was this the Victorian era? And she was in her thirties for criminy's sake. Why did she even bother? The answer was, she shouldn't even, so, before her mother could answer, she turned to her sister. "So, where's Stewart tonight, Bristol?" Tess's change of subject signaled that the topic of her life was now off the table.

"He's home with the boys. You know how he hates to pay for sitters." Bristol sniffed and looked away.
 

Oh yes, Stewart's frugality was legendary, as well as his Gestapo-like control he had over his household—though Bristol didn't usually call him out in front of others. God forbid their whole perfect family image be tarnished. No one was fooled. Tess knew better, her parents as well, but no one ever said it out loud. The fact that her sister was usually on her second martini by two in the afternoon had been the main tip off. But, in Bristol's circles, this was completely acceptable if done at the country club, while wearing a tennis skirt.
 

Awkward silence followed Bristol's thin jab at her husband. Tess felt the need to say something to fill the void. "Mmmm, this Asti Spumante is delish,"she joked. Her mother only scoffed. "Tess, this is the Ritz Carlton. It's Crystal, or at the very least Veuve Clicquot...if they went the cheap route, right, William?"
 

"Yes, certainly," her father agreed.

Tess sighed and wondered, for the millionth time, how she was part of this family and how she managed to keep the silver spoon out of her hindquarters. Maybe it had something to do with her underpaying job, not to mention friends who would never let her pull any of that hoity-toity mess with them. Whatever the reason was, for the millionth time, she was grateful.

The bride and groom were announced and entered the room to an exuberant round of applause. Tess said a prayer of thanks for the distraction, slugging the remaining liquid from her glass.

"Maybe we should cut Aunt Lillian off?" Bristol suggested, her tone annoyed. Her tight platinum chignon made her features look even more severe than usual. Would it kill her to wear her hair down? When Bristol was little, she would run barefoot through their yard, a wild mane of golden locks flowing in the wind behind her. "Catch me if you can, slow poke," she'd call. Tess following close behind. Tess sighed, she missed the Bri from her memories.

Tess crossed her arms. "Why? She's having a good time." Sure, Aunt Lillian was grinding on a bus boy right by the shrimp tower, but hey, at her age she had to get her freak on whenever she could. The poor guy did look like a small animal with his leg in a trap—his eyes darting around for someone, anyone, to come to his rescue.

Bristol snorted delicately. "Tess...you can almost see her underwear. I'm sure she's embarrassing Mom."

"Mom, or you?"

"Both! You should be, too. It's mortifying." Bristol's eyes bugged as she spoke.

"Bri, relax. She's not hurting anyone...ooh, well, maybe that hurt a little." They both sprung into action as their Aunt's legs started to slide apart into a hovering split. The bus boy was kind enough to lend a hand, even though it was evident that escape was his fondest Christmas wish. Tess made a mental note to slip him a twenty for mental duress.

"We got it...go, run, dude." Tess nodded to the no doubt emotionally scarred youth as he sprinted for the kitchen. "We gotcha, Auntie Lil, we gotcha." Tess and Bristol flanked their aunt on both sides—the Warner sisters working in tandem for a brief moment in time. It felt nice.

"Oh, girls. Thank you. I think I may have popped the threading on my girdle." They eased her into a seat. "That young man was such a lovely dancer, wasn't he?" Both sisters gave each other a look. If their great aunt considered the wide eyed corpse pose dancing, then who where they to correct her.

"Sure, Aunt Lil...why don't you take five for a few minutes and I can get you some coffee?" Bristol suggested.

"And I see some cake left," Tess threw out to sweeten the deal.

"I guess I am a little tuckered out at the moment. My word, he was handsome, wasn't he? His hips reminded me of my Virgil, God rest him. Did I ever tell you the story of how we met?" She had, dozens of times, but they let her tell it again. It was a great story. "I was eighteen and my friends and I wanted to attend a dance at the local USO. My parents said no, that men about to be shipped off to war only wanted one thing...they were probably right." She snickered. "But I didn't care. I snuck out as soon as they went to sleep. It was the first time I ever defied my folks. Oh girls, it was worth it. It was simply magic. Handsome men in uniform, Glenn Miller playing under soft lights...and then that's when I saw him..." The sisters smiled at each other as they listened to Aunt Lilian She continued her tale of love at first sight, and of stolen kisses under a streetlight. Tess's chest felt warm with longing. Love like theirs happened to some people she supposed, but she had never been struck in such a way. Sure she'd had lust at first sight, but nothing that took up permanent residence in her heart...yet. But she wasn't counting herself out of the game, despite what some people thought. And she certainly wasn't going to lower her standards, as her mother suggested. She still had plenty of time.
 
She wasn't a spinster by any stretch...besides, she was allergic to cats.

CHAPTER FOUR

"Vodka martini with a twist," Tess ordered.
 

"Damn girl, martini?"
 

"Yes, a martini." The defeated sigh on the tail end of her order brought a look of concern from her friend Rebel's face.

"Was the wedding that bad?"

"My mother was there, at my table. What do you think?" Her friend gave Tess a knowing nod and gripped her hand in hers.

"Martini it is." That's why Tess loved this woman. Regina Rinaldi, Rebel to those who knew her best, was the type of friend who just got it, no long explanation was needed. They communicated with only a look at times. They'd rushed together in college and had been soul sisters ever since.
 

"She bust your boobs the whole time?" Rebel's dark green eyes narrowed.

"Not the whole time." There'd been times when her mom had food in her mouth, or when she was working the room. You'd have thought it was her party, but that was how her mom was. She commanded attention, as if she were daring you not to take notice. And with her striking looks, 5'8" with honey colored hair and hazel eyes, it was hard not to. Tess had imagined that was how her mom had snagged a big fish like William Warner III, and though she nagged him at times, it was plain to see he worshipped the ground Tiffani's designer shoes walked on, and she him. It also did not escape Tess's attention when her parents danced cheek to cheek during every slow song, excluding the first dance of the bride and groom. She thought she even saw her dads hands drift down to cup her mom's butt during the final song, but she was hoping she was seeing things, or she'd developed champagne induced glaucoma.

"You know how she is, she just wants to see me settled. And to her, settled means house, husband, rug rats." Tess believed that deep down her mom loved her. She also knew her mother only wanted the best for her in her own way, even if it was smothering.

"Tell me about it. My mom's the same way on the grand baby topic. Apparently, I'm the reproductive degenerate of my family," Rebel said without self-pity. "She just doesn't get that I don't want kids, but try telling that to an Italian mother, who is only slightly less aggressive than my little Nonna. She goes on a tirade about it." Rebel was 5'3", small waist, full C's, and a tight, curvy rear end. If
 
her pin-up looks didn't real them in, her feisty personality sealed the deal. Men loved Rebel Rinaldi, who was happy to date them for as long as it pleased her, and then move on to the next. She didn't toss men aside callously. She wasn't cruel about it. She simply knew when to hold on, and knew when to let go. She'd currently been holding on to the same guy for just under a year. Tess knew an engagement was on the horizon for her friend. Seeing the ring last week may have tipped her off.

"What if you marry Cameron?...Um, strictly hypothetically speaking."
Damn it, keep the cat in bag
...she was switching to water.

Rebel's face softened at his name—she was one smitten kitten. Tess couldn't blame her, the man was fine, and a complete doll. "I guess we'll cross that bridge, ya know?"

"Hmm. Interesting. Doesn't sound like babies are totally off the table after all." Tess raised a brow.

Rebel sipped her wine and smiled. "I guess when you love someone you can't rule anything out."

"I agree. Never say never, and all that...plus, you would have the cutest, most non-asshole kids on the planet." They clinked glasses and laughed. Tess
did
agree. She might be chronically single, but she wasn't cynical. She was relieved to be unattached, truth be told. She was very independent and was getting to know who she really was in recent years, embracing and cherishing the skin she was in. Tess was certain that in order to have a healthy relationship with someone else, you had to have one with yourself first. Self-help book hoopla? Maybe. But still true.

"So, on another completely unrelated topic. I know you hate set ups, buuut..."

"Ugh, really, Rebel? Please, just no. After the night I've had, please have mercy on me."

"Even if he's a friend of Cam's who recently moved to town? Even if he's good looking and financially stable? Even if he..."

"Okay, okay, he sounds great. What's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Yeah, so why is Mr. Wonderful still on the market?"

"You're wonderful and you're on the market."

"Please. You know there's a double standard when it comes to single men and single women. Plus, there are at least four women for every single guy, so by pure statistical probability, he should be taken...or gay."

"Widowed."

"Oh, there's that." Tess got busy looking inside her glass. "Poor guy."

"So, are you interested?"
 

"A widower? I don't know, Reb."

"Oh come on, he can't help that his wife died anymore than you can help being smoking hot." She was laying it on thick, but Tess smiled.

"You're right. I shouldn't hold it against him, that would't be fair."

"Nope...sooooo?"

"So, what the hell." Tess shrugged her shoulders and tossed back the last sip of tini she had in her glass.

"Yay! I'll have Cam text him your digits."