Jerry Cunningham was a self-made man who’d started his fortune in real estate. He married Mimi Evans, a small-time heiress who’d built her own little empire by flipping properties in Chicago. They’d moved to Boston about twenty years prior and together continued to build up their empire, the Cunningham Corporation, and to expand it. Some of that expanse was under the Century Project banner. They were also part-owners of sports teams and high profile partners in other projects. Various parts of the empire were developed under their philanthropic wing, the Century Foundation. It was there that they established scholarships. Donated to museums. Created research labs. Supported theaters. Their contributions were large and flashy, and garnered national attention.
I had met some donors who wanted their contributions to remain anonymous or without fuss. Not so the Cunninghams. Big tangible projects were more likely to get their funding. My board at the Cliffside wanted me to be willing to give them naming rights if they helped fund our production center, but I was holding out. The Cunningham Pavilion, the name the board had suggested, didn’t have a healthy ring to it for me.
One of the most interesting things I’d found out about the Cunninghams was that you rarely read something about one of them without a mention of the other. If Mimi Cunningham was dedicating a research facility, Jerry Cunningham was there cheering her on. If Jerry was at a game, Mimi was sitting beside him wearing a team hat, cheering just as loudly. They were huge supporters of arts and culture, and always attended events together. The few times I’d met them, they had in fact struck me as a team. Not quite speaking for one another, but never contradicting one another either.
Suddenly I remembered that I needed to get moving. I took a deep breath and checked the time on my computer. Five thirty.
I put my dishes in the dishwasher and went to get dressed. Tonight’s reception required more time in my typical five-minute makeup routine. The last time I’d decided to focus more attention on my makeup, I’d stuck a mascara wand in my eye, which had somehow caused me to sneeze, which created raccoon rings on top of a bloodshot eye. It had taken me twenty extra minutes to fix that. So I’d learned not to rush when using implements near my eye. Besides, I wanted to look my best. You never knew who else might be there.
My heart skipped a beat and I paused, thinking about what I was anticipating. Would Gus Knight, my ex-husband and probably the love of my life, be there? Would Kate be there with him? I couldn’t help but wonder what his girlfriend looked like. At the same time, I didn’t really want to find out.
Not even a list in my notebook could help me sort that out. Instead, I focused on not blinding myself while I put on an extra coat of mascara.
• Six •
One step out the front door made me rethink my footwear. Could I get away with my rubber-soled shoes? Not tonight. Carrying my shoes wouldn’t work—all I’d brought with me were dressy boots, Bean boots, and slippers. I made my way down the hill in my fashion-first boots, holding railings and sides of buildings along the way. A fine film of ice covered the sidewalks, now that the sun was gone, and walking was treacherous. But my stubborn streak and deep Yankee frugality wouldn’t allow me to call a cab for a few blocks. At least going. Coming home, I might change my mind.
Once I was on the flat part of Beacon Hill, walking was much easier and I began to go through my mental Rolodex, refreshing the names and faces I might see tonight. Searching for a name mid-conversation was a sign of weakness, or so my father had taught me.
The University Club was a private club on Commonwealth Avenue. It was a membership-only organization, with reciprocal memberships in other cities throughout the world. Though not affiliated with a particular educational institution, its mission was to create learning opportunities for its members. All rentals had to support that mission as well, though the club was a popular, albeit tony, wedding site. I supposed members could learn about event planning by hosting weddings. The Cunninghams’ event was a benefit/announcement for the Century Project’s newest endeavor, a mixed-use development in Boston that promised affordable housing, nonprofit office space, several retail outlets, and a cultural center in addition to million-dollar condos.
After I was confirmed to be on the guest list, I was directed to the coat check. From there I was pointed toward the grand center staircase that led to the ballroom. My constant search for suitable rehearsal space had me in the habit of exploring every site as a potential theater venue, so I took a good look at the beautifully framed map to the left of the staircase, which confirmed this was the way to the second floor. I wiped my shoes one more time and started up the stairs. As I veered to the right to enter the ballroom, I stopped to take it in. With its understated elegance, high ceilings, and open floor plan, this stunning room was built for show.
It was crowded, and people were moving slowly, so I took a closer look around. There were fireplaces at either end along the exterior wall, and both were lit. Bars were set up at each end of the room. Along the wall facing the doorway, between the fireplaces, was a table of food. There were also wait staff offering food, and trays of wine glasses as well. The glow of the room was warm. I looked up at the sparking chandeliers overhead and then took note of the understated small lights tucked into the crown molding, which provided specific pools of light that added to the ambiance of the room.
Before joining the theater world, I never would have noticed what made a room feel warm; I would merely have experienced the warmth. These days I always noticed the colors that were used, the lighting, the floor coverings, the palette of the paint on the walls, even the smells. The candles on the tables must have been slightly scented, because there was a faint vanilla smell that belied the number of warm bodies jammed in the doorway.
After a large man moved to the side, I realized the reason for the slowdown. The Cunninghams were greeting people as they came into the room. They were expertly moving people forward, and in short order it was my turn to say hello. I started to introduce myself but was stopped by Jerry Cunningham.
“Sully, so good of you to come! Mimi, look who’s here.”
“Lovely to see you again,” Mimi said, leaning forward and kissing the air next to my cheek. “I think we’re expecting some paperwork from the Cliffside?”
“Yes, we’re submitting a grant for our new production center—”
“Of course, of course!” Jerry said. “I’ve been looking forward to hearing more about that ever since Hal told us about it. Tell you what—once everyone is in, I’d love to grab a couple of minutes to hear more about the project.”
“That would be great,” I said, moving along into the room so that the next guest could be greeted. I let out my breath. I didn’t have to break the ice anymore about the project. I was glad I’d come and very prepared to talk. It was just a question of when. Given the stream of people entering, I realized it might be a while.
I’ve always found the problem with these sorts of events to be the food or drink question. Walking around, you can’t balance a plate and a glass. So, do you drink, and then eat? Given my empty stomach, I thought the eat-and-then-drink option was safer. Safer still was staying away from foods with leafy green, tooth-sticking substances. Cheese and crackers were a safe option. Happily there were other options as well, including canapés and mini quiches. I grazed for a while, then got a plate and worked the room. I saw Emma and made my way over to her, slowing down so as not to interrupt her conversation. Instead, she used me as a reason to stop hers, gesturing me over.
“Hey, cousin! I didn’t see you come in,” she said.
“I’ve been hiding out at the food table. Hello, Hal, good to see you.” I leaned over to give him an air kiss.
He didn’t return it; instead, he looked a bit distracted. “Sully, I didn’t realize you were in town. What brings you to Boston?”
“I’m visiting with Dimitri. He’s working on Romeo and Juliet over at Bay Rep.”
�
��Babs’s swan song with the company,” Hal said.
“Swan song?” I asked, forcing my most innocent look to take over.
“Whoops. Too much wine. The news isn’t public yet. Babs is making some changes, decided to move on.” He didn’t say any more, instead drinking the rest of his glass in one gulp. I have to admit, I was impressed that he didn’t cough.
“Babs is here too, isn’t she? I thought I saw her when I came in,” Emma said.
“Is she?” Hal took a deep breath and looked around, then down at his empty glass. “I’m going to get another drink. Anything for you ladies? No? Well, I’ll see you later.”
Emma and I watched him walk away, and once he was out of earshot, Emma leaned toward me. “Thank heavens you came over,” she whispered. “I like Hal a lot, but I wasn’t holding up well under his hard sell.”
“Hard sell?”
“One of the reasons I didn’t make it home before coming here was my meeting with Gus. He suggested we pull out of a deal with Hal’s company and the Century Project, at least for the time being while our company is being restructured.”
“What kind of deal? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Investment, mostly. We would be providing capital in one of their new development projects, in return for office space and preferred vendor status for the future. It wasn’t much, at least not in their world. But you know how things have been going. With the changes at the Whitehall Company we decided to play it conservatively for now, and keep our cash handy.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Gus has a bee in his bonnet. That’s why he wanted to meet this morning and have a drink with Hal. But yes, everything’s fine. Or it will be, according to Gus. He feels like we should keep our cash liquid, and part of the deal with the Cunninghams was a substantial escrow account that we were going to renew terms on. Gus wants us to cash out, step back.”
“A lot has happened this year,” I said. Like half of your company’s executive staff dying, I thought but didn’t say aloud. Sometimes I marveled that Emma could get dressed in the morning, never mind help run a company. Time to change the subject. “I picked up Stewart Tracy from the train station. Thanks for letting him stay, by the way. It’s way nicer than actors’ lodgings normally are.”
“Amelia’s apartment is a little more utilitarian than Harry’s, or even mine, but he should be comfortable. I’m so glad Dad bought the townhouse all those years ago. I’m also glad Brooke preferred modern buildings, otherwise Dad would have probably taken it back over. So anyway … Stewart Tracy. I’ll have to pay more attention to what I wear to breakfast.”
“Emma, do you have a crush on Stewart?”
“Don’t be daft. Of course not. It’s only been a … he’s a handsome, charming man. I really enjoyed having him around over the holidays. He helped us all take our minds off everything. That’s all.”
“I’d believe you if you didn’t blush when you said his name,” I teased.
“Well, do I remember correctly that you and he had a thing a couple of summers ago? Or so I’ve heard?” she asked.
“In the past. We’re just good friends now. Well, not just friends. ‘Just’ undermines it. Good friends.”
“I wouldn’t mind being good friends with Stewart,” Emma said, elbowing me gently in the ribs. She looked over my shoulder and swore softly. “Damn, I’ve got to rescue Gus. Hal’s got him cornered. Come with me.”
I really didn’t have a choice as she took my hand and pulled me across the room. “Gus, look who’s here,” she announced. Both men stopped talking and turned toward us. I could tell that the conversation hadn’t been pleasant.
“Hello, Sully,” my ex-husband said, leaning in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. Gus didn’t air kiss, and I felt a surge of happiness when I felt his cheek stubble brush against me. Gus smelled great, damn him.
“Good to see you, Gus.” Actually, it was sort of a bag of mixed emotions to see him, but the next introduction helped to focus them.
“Have you met Gus’s partner, Kate Smythe? Kate, this is Sully Sullivan,” Emma said.
So, this was Kate. Kate was in her early thirties, with a hundred-dollar haircut and the perfect makeup that comes from expensive lines and lots of practice. Her outfit was similar to mine but a better fit, and much hipper. Though we were less than a decade apart, she made me feel very, very old.
Kate had called Gus several times in December when he’d been at my house, but we hadn’t ever talked. She was supposed to come with him to see A Christmas Carol, but it turned out that he came up alone and left right after the show. Gus and I hadn’t spoken since.
I put my hand out, but Kate hesitated before taking it. She must have known who I was, and I wondered exactly what she knew. One thing was for sure—she didn’t look happy to meet me. I ignored that and shook her hand heartily.
“Nice to meet you, Kate. I’ve heard so much about you,” I lied, letting her hand go. I’d heard very little about her. I’d rectify that later, with Emma.
“Nice to meet you too, Sully. I’ve heard a lot about you as well.” Kate snaked her arm through Gus’s and smiled at him. He had the good grace to look uncomfortable. This soap opera, I didn’t need.
“You know, I think I need a glass of wine after all,” I said. “I don’t see any waiters around—I guess I’ll head over to the bar. Emma, do you want anything?”
“I’ll take a red wine, thanks.”
“Here, I’ll go with you,” Hal said. “I need another one too.”
He was quiet as we walked over but had regrouped by the time we got to the bar. “Have you had a chance to talk to Jerry and Mimi?” he asked.
“Just to say hello when I first came in. I’m hoping they can grab a couple of minutes to talk some more, but they seem really busy.”
“Jerry’s always busy. I’d offer to help, but not sure how much good it would do this week.” Hal glanced over and gave me a weak smile. “Never mind me. Just feeling old and worn out. I hired a new person to help with digital marketing, and I met with her this morning. I was supposed to be teaching her the business, but it ended up the other way around. Some of the principles of marketing are the same, but the delivery system? It’s a changing field. I can barely keep up. It hit me this afternoon—this is getting to be a young man’s game. Young person’s game. If you don’t stay up on it, you may as well resign yourself to being a buggy whip factory when cars were invented. Useful one minute, outmoded the next.”
I smelled Babs’s perfume before I turned around to see her approaching us. The transformation from how she’d looked a mere eight hours earlier shocked me. Her makeup was smeared and her shirt was half untucked. Her necklace was slightly askew. Hal absently went to straighten it, but she recoiled at his touch.
“Darling, at some point you have to come up with a new metaphor. That one is getting tired. And besides, didn’t you steal it from that play? What was it?” Babs said, intentionally keeping space between herself and her husband.
She was unsteady on her feet, and Hal reached out to put a hand on her elbow. She shook it off. “Sweetheart, your cold medicine seems to be affecting you more than usual,” he said.
“Cold medicine. I needed much more than cold medicine to come here tonight after … but I’m here, my pet. You can’t ignore me here.”
“Babs, please, for God’s sake.”
“You owe me, Hal. Don’t forget it. You owe me.” And with that, Babs wrenched her arm out of his grip and stalked away.
I’d been stepping back slowly during the diatribe. Hal looked down and around slightly. I removed myself from his line of vision and went to the other bar to get the wine. As I waited for them to open a new bottle of Malbec, I watched Babs sashay with a drunken swagger through the party. She stopped for a moment and said something to Jerry Cunningham, poking him in his chest. He clutched her hand in his fis
t and squeezed it before noticing that folks were paying attention. He let Babs go, then turned and walked away.
Mimi Cunningham stepped in and tossed her drink in Babs’s face. Babs said something that I couldn’t hear, and Mimi flushed. It was quite a standoff. Two women of the same echelon. Blonded and botoxed to fight the ravages of age. Suited in the latest uniform of pants, silk shirts, fitted jackets, and high-heeled boots. Both of them were far too cultured to let it get past a thrown drink. But for a moment, just a moment, I could almost hear someone whisper “girl fight.” Then Mimi laughed and said, “Sorry, Babs, I tripped.” Everyone giggled, pretended they believed her, and moved on.
“Bitch, you’ll get yours. That’s a promise. You’ll all get yours,” Babs said. She turned to leave. I started to go after her, but Hal appeared by my elbow and held me back.
“Don’t bother. Not while she’s like this.”
“I’ve never seen her like this,” I said.
“It isn’t a usual occurrence,” he said. “But she’s a mean drunk. I’ve learned to stay out of her way.”
Emma walked over to us and took Hal’s elbow, steering him toward the food before he got another glass of wine. I watched as Gus went after Babs. She fought him off for a few seconds, but then she let him take her arm and guide her out of the room. I noticed Mimi watching them go.
“Quite the show, wasn’t it?” a voice said. I turned to my left and realized Kate had come up and was standing next to me.
“Yes, quite. Not sure what it was about.”
“It could be a million things. Babs and Hal are finally breaking up. I thought it was amicable, but obviously not. I think Hal got the Cunninghams in the divorce, which doesn’t bode well for Babs and her theater. Bet you know something about that. Sucking up for money, I mean. Isn’t that what you do?”
With a Kiss I Die Page 8
