by Rachel Hauck
“Why’d she leave the gala anyway? Was she upset when Sabrina showed up?”
“Sabrina Fox?” Chuck whistled low.
“One and the same,” Coral said. “She and Zane Breas are an item. Imagine, a guy who sells hamburgers dating a woman who doesn’t eat meat.”
“Match made in heaven,” Ed said.
“I didn’t ask about Sabrina.” Jett started the food line by scooping a pile of baked beans onto his plate. “Though Zane is a putz. Wouldn’t doubt he did something to hurt her.”
“Please, if you need anything, just ask. Who’s with her during the day?” Coral poured a bit of the red wine into a plastic cup. Should she volunteer her place? It was a big and spacious, almost cavernous, penthouse overlooking the park. But no one was home from seven in the morning to seven or eight at night.
She’d dismissed her housekeeping staff after discovering one of them took five hundred grand from a tabloid to tell the “real story” of the Panicked Princess.
For now, she maintained a cleaning crew and a chef, who loaded her up with meals and tidied her space once a week.
“No one,” Jett said. “We’re still working out a routine. I had someone cover my morning classes today. I think if I can get her set up before I leave for the day, she’ll be all right until I get home. I’m not away all day every day either.” He carried a loaded plate of ribs, beans, and coleslaw to his chair. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind visitors in a few days.”
Coral regarded him for a long, lingering moment. Would Gus care for her the way Jett was caring for Lexa? Even after breaking his heart?
If those two didn’t realize they loved each other by the time Lexa was out of a cast, she’d, well, eat a plastic plate.
Picking through the various meats, she lifted her head when Chuck asked, “How’s your week been, Coral?”
He eyed her with sincere interest, even tenderness, and she had to look away.
“I’ve had better.” She squirted a small dollop of sweet sauce over a pile of lean pork. “I’ve had worse.”
She’d spent the morning in meetings with her team trying to figure out ways to save Pink Coral. But she ran into the bulwark of Blaire time and time again.
“How much more money can you put into a failing product? As your CEO I can’t justify it, Coral.”
“Guess we could all say the same,” Chuck said. “Especially Lexa.”
“Yes, I didn’t mean to minimize her ordeal. Jett, please give her our love.”
“We could write her a note, tell her we’re thinking of her,” Ed said.
“How utterly marvelous and old-fashioned.” Coral perked up at the idea.
With that, the society minus one ate in contented silence. Coral relished the idea of being there for someone in need. When she was in a desperate situation, she shoved her friends away, afraid of betrayal. Afraid they wouldn’t understand.
“You ran out on Prince Augustus?”
“What is wrong with you, Coral? I remember in school you never went with the in-crowd. Though everyone wanted you in their inner circle. They thought you were a snob of snobs.”
In truth, the in-crowd never really accepted her. She was an ugly duckling of sorts. By the time she turned into a swan, she didn’t care about any of them. Nor they her.
“Ed, how’s your memoir?” Jett caught the man licking his sticky fingers, a dark line of barbecue sauce running from the corner of his mouth toward his ear.
Coral reached for the moist towelettes that came with the barbecue and handed one to Chuck, who passed it to Ed.
“Got it in here.” He tapped the side of his head, then tore open the small, square packet.
“Still don’t know how to start?” Jett said.
“Letting the ideas ruminate. I was busy this week.” He wadded up the soiled sheet. “I’m the super, you know, for my co-op up on Eighty-Ninth. I think about it while I’m working.”
“Sooner or later, it’s butt in chair, fingers on the keys.”
“Can I just say you’re doing a good thing, Jett? Helping your ex-wife.” Ed breathed life into Coral’s private thoughts. “Never hurts to go the extra mile for someone. Even if that someone broke your heart.”
She liked the old gentleman more every week. His wisdom, his gruff kindness, the love he still professed for his wife.
“My ex would never do that for me,” Chuck scoffed. “She’d rather . . . Never mind.”
Coral glanced at him, finding the hardness in his tone displayed on his face. “Would you do it for her?”
“Not in a million years.”
“Don’t afford me a hero’s welcome,” Jett said. “To be honest, Lex didn’t have any place else to go.”
“That boss of hers could pay for help. Or for another place to stay,” Chuck offered.
“The less Zane Breas is involved, the better,” Jett said. “I think it was something he said that upset her.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help keep an eye on her,” Coral said.
“Don’t tell me she ran in front of the cab on purpose.” Ed sounded truly concerned.
“No, she tripped.” Jett raised his foot, motioning to the heel. “Her shoes . . . I don’t know how women walk in those things.”
“I’m with you, bro,” Chuck said.
“Because we’re trying to look good for you boys.” Coral raised her voice in defense of her gender.
“We don’t care a whit about shoes.” This bold confession from Chuck. “Love us, feed us, and have sex with us. We’re good. You wear those shoes to impress other women.”
“I don’t.”
“Trust me, Coral, no man who sees you is looking at your feet.”
She gasped and swatted Chuck with the back of her hand. He deflected the move by raising his arm and laughing.
“Men,” she said, unable to corral her amusement.
“Women,” Chuck echoed.
Ed laughed. “Nothing in the world like the spark between men and women. What a marvelous and mysterious combination. Two sides of the same coin, you know. We both want the same thing, to give and receive love, to be cared for, respected. We just come at it from a different point of view. Points of view we both need, you know.”
Coral leaned toward him, her empty plate still in hand. “Your Esmerelda was a blessed woman, Ed.”
“I was the blessed one. Yes, sir, I was the blessed one.”
Jett and Chuck hit the food table for seconds. Coral moved slowly behind them, one eye on the still-full salad container, one eye on the men.
She saw it now. Even felt it. This society was unto some purpose. Jett clearly fulfilled the leader role. What was her role? Or Chuck’s, Ed’s, and Lexa’s?
Would others show up? She tensed at the idea, not wanting anyone to spoil their young, tender camaraderie. She felt rather mother-hen about this odd society.
Back in the chairs, Ed motioned to Chuck.
“What’s your story?”
Coral caught the taut knot in Chuck’s jaw as he stabbed a forkful of barbecued meat.
“You know most of it. Divorced. Two kids. Twins. One of each. Grew up in Hoboken. My great-grandfather ran around with Frank Sinatra. Before he was Sinatra of course.”
“Well, smell you.” Coral dug up the old phrase from the Calhouns’ southern side, Great-Aunt Lizzy, born and raised in western Kentucky.
Chuck grinned in such a way Coral felt it was just for her. “I never met the man. There’s nothing to smell.”
“You said the twins have a birthday coming up?” Coral said.
“October. They turn six.” Chuck focused on his food, wiping his mouth after every bite with the napkin plastered to his wide palm.
“How often do you see them?” Ed wanted to know.
“Hey, don’t let me soak up all the attention. Coral, what about you? Besides being a great heiress and prince smasher.” Chuck sat back, stretched out his long, jean-clad legs, and took a noisy sip from the soda bottle he brought in from the corner
bodega. “Parents? Siblings?”
“I find your humor droll, Chuck. If you must know, I was hatched under a magnolia tree and raised by squirrels in the park. My grandmother happened upon me one day and carried me up to my mother to raise as a pet.” She grinned at his mocking expression. “Of course I have parents. And a brother, Han. Mom and Dad divorced when he was eleven and I was eight.”
“I was twelve,” Jett said. “When my folks divorced.”
“My parents’ parting was amiable. We spent Christmases and birthdays together, even some vacations. They tried their best not to disrupt our lives. However, my mother is very eccentric and, to be honest, just plain weird. She was more upset about Gus and me parting ways than I. My dad, though, he’s special. My rock. My friend.”
She hadn’t intended on bringing up Gus, but it was hard to talk about her life and not mention him at least once.
“What did happen with Prince Gus?” Chuck leaned toward her.
“Say, how about those Giants?”
Chuck scrunched up his handsome face. “Is that your way of telling me to butt out?”
“Jett, your turn,” Coral said. “Brothers, sisters?”
“One brother. He died two years ago.”
“I looked up the story after our night in the clink, Jett,” Chuck said. “Died wingsuiting. They say it’s the deadliest sport.”
“Night in the clink? What’s this? Ed, did you know we had jailbirds among us?”
“Nothing. We were at the same wedding and this drunk groomsman was all handsy with one of the bridesmaids so Jett decided to teach him a lesson.”
“I was drunk.”
“Then somehow I got involved.”
“Somehow?” Coral said.
“Okay, I felt like throwing a few punches myself.”
“We spent the night together in Central Booking. Released in the morning with no charges.” Jett pressed the corner of his napkin to his lips.
“What happened with your brother, Jett?” Ed said.
“He flew off Eiger Mountain to his death. Should’ve never taken off, but that’s a debate for another day.”
“What about the rest of your family?” Coral said.
“Like I said, my parents split, but after a few years, they reconciled their friendship. Mom came back to produce Dad’s show, Going Wild. One set of grandparents retired to Arizona. The other set died within a year of each other when I was in grad school. No hamsters or snakes as pets.”
The pet reference moved the stories toward furry companions as kids and adults.
“So is this what we’re going to do? Just talk about whatever?” Ed stood, stretching, making old-man moans. “Dole out little bits of information about ourselves until we finally, after ten years, learn our life stories?”
Was that why they were here? To hear from each other, learn from the stories they each had to share?
Coral already yearned for a love like Ed and Esmerelda’s. Despite how things appeared on the outside, and the hope she harbored in her heart, her love story with Gus was not a fairy tale. But she believed her own happily-ever-after awaited her.
“Aren’t we going to read your brilliant memoir?” Chuck said.
“We can talk about books.” Jett gestured toward the loaded bookshelves. “Religion or politics. It’s what old Joseph Winthrop used to do in this room.”
“A book club?” Ed snorted. “Sounds like a hen gathering. A society feels like we should be about more than book discussions.”
“We could talk about writing, how stories impact society. Look at the works of Dickens and Twain, Roth, Fitzgerald, or—”
Chuck snorted. “Count me out. I’ll go nuts if I have to dissect a book every Monday night. Or hash out the details of my life. I quit therapy because all the counselor wanted to talk about was my childhood. I had a great childhood.”
“I quit my therapist because she had zero wisdom,” Coral said. “Her only advice was to trick myself into believing I was okay. That I wasn’t in pain. And that I should breathe a lot. Can you imagine. Breathing being the cure-all to emotional pain.”
“We still don’t know who invited us to this room.” Chuck leaned forward, arms propped on his thighs. “There must be a reason.”
“I agree. But we’re not a support or writing group, nor a book club.” Coral said. “So what are we?”
“Friends.” Jett. So simple, clean, and pure.
Coral exhaled with a smile. “Yes, friends.”
“Okay, friend,” Chuck said. “Why did you say, ‘How about those Giants?’ when I asked you something personal?”
“You mean when you asked about Gus?” She turned to the big man. “All right, here you go. After some conversations with the prince I realized he wasn’t the one for me.”
Was her confession enough? She hoped so, because the familiar twist behind her breast stole her breath.
She was sorry for the way she ended things. Ashamed, really. And while she’d apologized, she’d not told anyone the rest of the story. The words were hard to find. Her feelings difficult to describe.
Her experience was so personal, so private.
“You couldn’t have figured it out before the week of the wedding?”
“Chuck, you seem to know a lot about everyone’s business.” Ed studied the big man next to him. “Coral’s prince, Jett’s brother.”
“I sit on my brains all day listening to the radio. I have passengers who talk too loud about all sorts of things. Some things I would love to shove out of my head, but I can’t.”
“So if we are friends, let’s respect each other’s boundaries for now,” Jett suggested. “We really don’t know each other all that well. Trust comes with time. With relationship. If we keep meeting, you’ll probably get your answers, Chuck.”
Thank the Lord for Jett. She could kiss him.
“I’ll admit I am guarded.” Coral’s confession would give the guys a picture of her life. “I had a traitor in my house, one of my staff. Tried to sell access to me for half a million dollars. I agree with Jett that trust comes with time and relationship.” She turned to Chuck. “For all we know you’re a CIA operative. Ed, a hit man for the mob.”
“And you? The black widow?”
“That’s right. I’m a superhero.” She winked at him. “Don’t you forget it.”
The tension broke with their laugh.
“So it’s decided?” Chuck slapped his hands on the arm of his chair. “We come here and talk about . . . life?”
“Why don’t we write to Lexa? Before Gilda comes in and ushers us out.” Coral rose to collect printer paper and passed sheets to Chuck, Ed, and Jett.
When Jett and Ed echoed her yes, she thought she saw a flash of light in the room. Warm swirls of gold through a gauzy, thick haze.
She’d seen the heavenly veil once before. But it didn’t frighten her as much this time.
Only confirmed her suspicions. The invitations to this society came from the same source that raised the hair on the back of her neck two months before she was to marry Augustus.
Coral pulled a pen from her bag and moved to the desk in the front corner where the fireplace sat cold and dark. She missed the warm, fanning flames.
“You have to write one too, Jett.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Every society member is writing her. You’re in the society, aren’t you?”
Lexa, I don’t know you well but you already feel like a friend. So sorry about Friday night’s accident. I’m thinking of you. We missed you terribly tonight. Please call if you need anything. I’ll pray for you.
Coral
She folded the page and passed it to Jett. Chuck and Ed were still writing. Jett’s page was folded in his hand. If he wrote anything, the note was short.
Returning to her chair, Coral sat with a contented inner sigh.
By the time the diminutive librarian knocked on the door announcing the library’s closing, the letters to Lexa were written and collected.
&n
bsp; The four of them walked out together. “Can I give anyone a lift?” Coral moved toward the black sedan waiting for her by the curb.
“I’ve got Ed.” Chuck roped his arm around the old man’s narrow shoulders. “See you all next week.”
“I have a feeling Ed’s story might help Chuck.” Coral glanced in Jett’s direction.
“Maybe. Or Chuck just might help Ed.”
“How would that be?”
He shrugged as he strapped on his bike helmet. Coral motioned to Albert, her driver for the night, to wait a moment and she stepped toward Jett.
“I don’t know your story, but I think fate, or perhaps God, has given you a second chance.”
“With Lexa?” He stared off, shaking his head. “You don’t know her very well yet, but she doesn’t do second chances.”
“You never know, Jett. People change.”
“And some don’t. What about you? Is there a second chance at love with your prince?”
She shook her head.
“See,” he said, cutting her off. “No second chances with you either.”
“You don’t know me very well yet, Jett. There is more to the story. And right now, I have hotter irons in the fire than my love life.” She turned to the open backseat door. “Good night. See you next week.”
“Good night, Coral.”
When she looked back, Jett was gone, pedaling his way into the night.
Chapter 12
Lexa
She woke to the muted light of morning peeking into the bedroom around the edges of drawn shades.
Every flutter of her eyelids felt like sandpaper. Her dry lips stuck together, and when she tried to sit up, she toppled left, face first into a thick pillow.
Pain sliced down her head to her arm and out her fingertips. Even the ends of her hair hurt.
With awkward motion, she pushed up with her left arm, scooted to the end of the bed, balanced, then shuffled toward the bathroom.
After she’d spent three days with Jett and exposed more of herself to him than she cared to, he’d rigged one of his oversized T-shirts for easy use. She could finally tend to her private needs without calling on him.
Now, after five days, she felt at home. But this wasn’t her home. Not anymore, despite the memories, the familiar surroundings, furniture, and decorations. Jett hadn’t changed the place very much. Only pictures and her personal items were missing.
