The Game of Denial (19 page)

Chapter Eighteen

CHARMAINE DROPPED HER shoulder purse and messenger bag on her desk Tuesday morning and prepared a cup of coffee on the small personal Keurig machine on her credenza. After pausing to enjoy the rush of fresh coffee, she dug around in her purse and pulled out a small Nikon digital camera. Carrying her coffee mug and the camera she stopped at her secretary's desk to let her know where she'd be and answered a few questions about Fran's wedding, promising to show the older woman pictures of the ceremony after she had prints made. She continued down the carpeted main corridor, nodding to harried-looking junior associates. She turned down a short corridor off the main area. Joan's office was somewhat isolated from the other offices. The small waiting room was furnished simply, but a large window made it seem light and airy, feminine.

"She in, Helen?" Charmaine asked as she stepped up to Joan's secretary's desk.

The chicly dressed, middle-aged woman rolled her eyes and looked at Charmaine. "Oh, yeah. She was here when I came in," the secretary said. "Already handed me a list a mile long of things to do, all of which must be done today."

"What time was that?" Charmaine asked.

"I had to pick up the page proofs and have them on her desk by eight, so I came in early, about seven. She was already at her desk marking up layouts." Helen shook her head. "She was a little annoyed that the proofs weren't already there."

"That is early, even for her."

"I don't know what happened at your sister's wedding, but Ms. Carmichael has been on a tear today. No one expected her back in the office until tomorrow."

"She's not used to being away from work so long," Charmaine said as she reached down to soothingly pat Helen's hand.

"She's been gone longer and I've never seen her so hyperactive before." Helen shook her head. "What did they put in the food down there anyway?"

Charmaine opened the door quietly and stuck her head inside. Joan was at her desk facing the window that overlooked Broadway. She was speaking to someone in rapid French and seemed agitated. Charmaine slid into a chair to the side of Joan's desk and propped her feet on the coffee table in front of it. When Joan disconnected from her overseas phone call with what sounded like a threat to fire whoever was on the other end of the line she spun her chair around.

"Good morning, Charmaine," Joan said without looking up. "I'm surprised to see you so early today."

"Must have been those ten days of fresh air and clean living," Charmaine said with a shrug. "Thanks, by the way, for splitting without any prior warning and leaving us in an awkward lurch at Green Acres."

"I explained why I had to leave prematurely. Something came up here and I needed to handle it as quickly as possible."

"Yeah, I seem to vaguely remember some bullshit similar to that totally tall tale."

Joan leaned back in her chair and glared at her daughter. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Charmaine set her coffee mug on the table in front of her. "I haven't decided yet, but am leaning that way." She paused before continuing. "I've never seen anyone quite as unhappy looking as Mrs. Chase when I returned alone and told her that story." Charmaine held her hand out to forestall any explanation by Joan. "It wasn't just you, of course. Her daughter left shortly after I returned so she could rest up before going to her Florence Nightingale gig in Richmond. The only thing that saved the day was Uncle Gerard and his friend. Mrs. Chase and Uncle Gerard spent most of the afternoon working with some horse with a problem. Meg was a total bitch and locked herself in her room until we left. The Munchkins whined and cried most of the day."

Joan cleared her throat and took a drink of her already cold coffee. "Doesn't sound like I missed much then. I had an excellent undisturbed night's sleep for the first time in days."

Charmaine reached out and shoved the digital camera across the desk. Joan caught it before it sailed off the edge. "What's this?" she asked.

"It's the photographs Meg took while we were there and during the wedding. She said you asked her to take informal family pictures and asked me to bring it in."

"I don't have time to look at them now," Joan said, setting the camera carefully on the desk and pushing it toward Charmaine.

"Take it home and look at them at your leisure," Charmaine said. She raised her eyes to look at Joan. "There are some pretty interesting shots of you and Mrs. Chase." Charmaine paused for a minute and sipped her coffee.

"Is that all, Charmaine? I have work to do before the deadline for the next ad campaign."

Charmaine noticed Joan's eyes drift to the camera on her desk.

She leaned back and tried to relax. "I was just thinking how gracious it was of Mrs. Chase to open her home to a group of total strangers," Charmaine said. "I don't know how she did all of that and still continued to take care of the horses, cook, and find the time to play with Morgana and Mitchell. Way beyond anything I would ever attempt."

Joan squirmed a little in her chair and swiveled it around to refill her coffee cup.

"And you have to see the picture of her at the wedding. She couldn't have chosen a more attractive dress. It suited her body and complexion so well."

"I was there, Charmaine," Joan replied with a slightly annoyed bite in voice. "Don't you have work to do instead of prattling on about nothing? If not, I can certainly find some for you."

Charmaine finished her coffee. "I just thought I'd spend a little quality time chatting before I dove into the paperwork on my desk," she said. She stood and walked across the office, stopping with her hand on the doorknob to look at Joan. "I never realized what a coward you are, Mother," she said.

"What the hell are you talking about now, Charmaine?" Joan asked, her eyebrows knitting into a frown.

"A blind man could see how you looked at Evey Chase."

"And how was that?"

"You obviously wanted to be with her. You liked her and I think it went even deeper. You wanted her."

"That's ridiculous," Joan said, trying to remain calm. "I simply appreciated everything she was doing to make Fran's wedding a memorable event."

"I've never seen you look at anyone like that, except Mama. It was kind of nice to see that look again. Unfortunately, you chose to run away rather than explore your feelings." Charmaine lowered her voice. "Mama's gone and you need to get on with your life."

"Get out, Charmaine," Joan ordered, her face flushed with anger, "before I forget I'm your mother and fire your ass. I don't need your advice on how I should live."

AS SOON AS her office door closed, Joan leaned back in her leather chair and shut her eyes, breathing deeply to calm down. Had her steadily growing attraction to Evey Chase really been so obvious? She could picture Evey's smiling face, hear the sound of her laughter, smell the subtle scent of her perfume, recall the feel of her skin and the softness of her lips. Joan shook her head in an attempt to shed the memories of the time she had stayed at the farm. She dragged a stack of papers in front of her and began reading them. Nearly fifteen minutes later she was still staring at the same page and couldn't recall anything she'd read. She removed her reading glasses and tossed them onto the stack. She rubbed her eyes. She hadn't slept as well as she'd told Charmaine and her eyelids felt like sandpaper. She saw Meg's digital camera resting on the desk. When she reached for it, her hand shook and she balled her fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching them several times. With the mocking camera finally in her hands, she pressed the power button and waited for the first image to appear. She quickly flipped through dozens of pictures chronicling her family's stay at Meadowbrook Farm. Joan hadn't realized Meg had taken so many photographs over the course of their visit. She stopped when she came to a photograph of her in conversation with Evey. She barely remembered that day. Evey was squinting up at Joan as she spoke. Joan was shocked at how intently she was looking at Evey, as if she were drinking in every word.

Joan smiled at a picture of her escorting Fran down the aisle. She would want a copy of that one for her office. Fran was so beautiful in Martine's gown. It was a perfect picture with Joan looking down at Fran lovingly as they walked. Joan brought the viewer closer to her face and, in the background, saw Evey watching them as they moved down the aisle. The expression on Evey's face seemed almost...enamored. Meg took a number of pictures during the reception. Joan laughed at the one taken while she was dancing with Luella. Her mother looked elegant in her dress and Joan caught a glimpse of the woman Luella had been when she was younger. Joan pressed the button to advance to the next picture and nearly dropped the camera. In the frame, she held Evey in her arms as they danced. She held her closer than she remembered, her eyes locked on Evey's. She saw, and remembered, Evey's hand resting on her shoulder, her index finger stroking the back of her neck. The memory of the kiss between them not long afterward still made Joan's stomach clench with longing.

Joan quickly pressed the power button and turned the camera off. She set the camera down and pushed it away as she felt the burning in her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and fought off the tears. She needed to erase Evey Chase from her mind. She flipped through the Rolodex on her desk and paused when she found the phone number she was searching for.

Chapter Nineteen

JOAN USED THE tips of her well-manicured short nails to sweep her sandy blonde hair across her forehead as she stepped from the back of her company limousine and adjusted the floor-length sheath dress that covered her body. She was surprised at how comfortably it still fit. She hadn't worn it in years. The top half of the dress was charcoal gray and gradually blended into the silver lower half. The material shimmered and sparkled under the entry lights of the upscale apartment complex. A split beginning at the hem extended to just above her knee, showing off a slender expanse of leg.

"Do I look all right, Lou?" she asked her driver as she smoothed down the front of the dress.

"I've never seen you look better, Mrs. C," Louise Marshall answered.

Joan strode confidently to the entry and paused as a doorman tipped his hat and greeted her. "Welcome to the Sheffield Arms, ma'am," he said as he opened the front door.

"Thank you," Joan acknowledged with a genuine smile.

She crossed the front lobby and entered the elevator, clearing her throat slightly as she pushed the button for the tenth floor. She leaned against the back wall and took a deep breath. What was I thinking? she asked herself. She hadn't been surprised when Monica Ashford accepted her invitation to a charity event that included an evening of dinner and dancing. The truth was Joan needed to get away from her home. Since Fran's wedding a month earlier, her home had begun to feel empty and oppressive. She couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed a night out. She still occasionally went to lunch with an old friend, but while those times were pleasant, there had been no joy in them. And she was desperate to find a way to drive Evey Chase out of her mind. To forget the soft hair that fell to just above her collar and twinkling hazel eyes that opened into her soul. Joan had seen the world through the reflection of those intriguing eyes. Stop it! she told herself with a frown.

When the elevator stopped Joan pushed away from the wall and twisted her neck from side to side in an attempt to relax her muscles. How bad can it possibly be? Monica is a beautiful woman and I should feel proud to be seen with her. Right?

Joan proceeded down the thickly carpeted corridor and tapped on the door of 10-B. She stepped back and waited. Monica's maid opened the door and stood back to allow Joan to enter the beautifully appointed home.

"Make yourself comfortable, ma'am. Ms. Ashford will be ready in a moment," the maid said. "May I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

Joan used the time before Monica joined her to take in the view through the balcony window. The lights of the city below were incredible.

"That view can't possibly compare to the one in front of me now," Monica's voice said.

Joan turned and cleared her throat again. "I didn't hear you come in," she said. "You look lovely, Monica."

Shoulder-length, deep auburn hair fell in casual ringlets around Monica's face and Joan hadn't realized before what a calm green the woman's eyes were. Her soft eye shadow drew out the color. Nearly as tall as Joan, Monica's choice of apparel highlighted every tempting curve of her body. The dramatic plunging neckline offered a hint of cleavage that made Joan's mouth go dry. "Shall we?" she finally said.

"I place myself completely in your hands for the evening," Monica said.

Joan placed her hand lightly in the small of Monica's back as they walked to the apartment door. Monica stood in a position that forced Joan to lean around her to open it. Joan smiled at Monica as her breasts brushed against Monica's upper arm.

"Have you recovered from the wedding yet?" Monica asked as the elevator descended to the lobby.

"I think so," Joan answered.

"Have you heard from Fran?"

"She and Brad are flying home over the weekend."

Joan took Monica's hand and assisted her into the back of the limousine. Monica gazed at Joan as she settled into the seat across from her, her eyes making a slow journey down her body.

Joan smiled at her. "That's a beautiful gown," she said.

"I'm glad you like it," Monica said. "I have to admit I was surprised when you invited me to accompany you tonight."

"Why? I enjoy your company."

"You were a little...brusque at the wedding."

"We were all more than a little stressed. My mother and brother arrived the day before you. I hadn't seen them in a long time and my relationship with my mother has always been strained. I apologize for my behavior and hope you will accept it."