Pretty Guilty Women

by Gina LaManna

  “Oh, this is too cute.” Sydney joined Kate in the shop, pulling a bright-pink onesie toward her with the words Serenity Spa & Resort printed on it. “A souvenir.”

  “Get it,” Kate said. “Lydia will look great in that outfit.”

  “No, I shouldn’t.” Sydney’s face crumpled in a ball of frustration as she shoved the onesie back, almost angrily. “Forget it. Did you say you wanted coconut water?”

  “Now that I think about it, I could use some aspirin too. My travel pack is in Max’s bag, and I most certainly won’t be using that. Here, hand me the onesie.”

  “But—”

  “Please, it’s all going on Max’s credit card. He’ll be buying a lot worse than baby clothes on this trip. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal to me,” Sydney insisted. “I don’t need it, and neither does Lydia. And I’m sorry, but I can’t accept favors from you, especially when we’ve just met.”

  A twinge of annoyance had Kate watching Sydney more carefully as she shoved the onesie still farther back onto the table and turned away. It wasn’t often that people argued with Kate, and it wasn’t often that Kate backed down. But this felt somehow different.

  “I didn’t mean to imply I was doing you a favor,” Kate said. “It’s a gift. It’s nothing, really. What’s a few extra dollars on Max’s tab?”

  Sydney gave a wan smile. “I don’t think you understand, Kate. To me, it is a lot. And I don’t like having debts. I can’t pay you back. End of story.”

  Kate sidled over to the refrigerator at the back of the store. It was rare for her not to argue when she knew she had a valid point, but to be quite honest, she didn’t know what to say. Kate selected several Fiji waters and coconut drinks and put them into a basket, noting Sydney’s wince as she glanced at the price list.

  “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to be rude,” Sydney said. “Things aren’t that bad, not always. But for now, I do have a finite amount in my bank account. I’ve been a little stressed with the separation and having to make do without my own source of income. Everything has to be budgeted—and I mean everything. And souvenirs like this aren’t in the budget.”

  Kate felt an uncomfortable bubble building in her chest. Over the years, she’d donated to one charity cause after the next because it’s a tax write-off! and my, won’t this look great for the business! when there were real people who needed help and weren’t getting it. Kate had always assumed there were programs to assist people like Sydney, people in need of financial help. Especially young mothers.

  Was Kate really so naive to think she’d been doing a world of good, tossing her money at one cause after the next, when there were so many struggling every day to make ends meet?

  “Really, ignore me,” Sydney gushed. She tugged her flannel shirt tighter around her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I know you were only trying to help. I hope you can understand where I’m coming from.”

  “Of course,” Kate said. “And I hope you can understand where I was coming from, as well. It isn’t a big deal to Max, and I thought it’d be nice for Lydia to have something from the resort.”

  Sydney hesitated, sighed. Her gaze flicked at Kate. “If it’d make you feel better, and you’re sure it’s not an imposition, I think Lydia would love a gift.”

  “I’m glad.” Kate smiled. “I’ll pay for this, then, and we can head back inside. It’s getting late.”

  Sydney backed gratefully away as Kate went to pay at the counter.

  “All of this, please,” Kate instructed the shopkeeper, gesturing to the aspirin, the waters, and the onesie. Kate fished in her purse for her own credit card and handed it over, preferring to buy the gift for Lydia and not taint it by billing the cost to Max’s room. “I’d like to pay for it by card.”

  “No problem,” the clerk said, swiping the card and handing two bags over to Kate. They were both puke green with cacti printed on the front and smelled faintly of plastic. “Have a serene evening!”

  Kate took her things and met Sydney outside. It was a lovely night, quieter and calmer than the bustle brought on by daylight. The resort had been built into the rolling desert hills with cement sidewalks carefully zigzagging back and forth, cutting through exactly the right amount of nature. No path strayed too far from the resort, and every inch was lit in a carefully construed way—a hint of romance, a relaxing dimness that blended easily into the night beyond. A few critters skittered across the sidewalks, and still, resort staff bustled under the never-ending pummeling of guests’ wants, needs, and desires.

  The two women made pleasant small talk as they returned inside, past the nearly deserted lobby bar, and to the first-floor elevators. Sydney hesitated before several decorative vases topped with succulents, eyeing the bag on Kate’s arm.

  “I’m this way,” Sydney said, nodding down the hall. “I can take things from here. Would you mind slinging the bag over my arm so I don’t wake Lydia?”

  “Don’t be silly—I can drop it at your door for you,” Kate said. “Nobody’s waiting for me in bed tonight.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’m right…here…” Sydney stopped outside a room, shuffled Lydia to her hip, and inserted the card into the reader. “Oh, shit. I forgot to order extra pillows. I’ve been meaning to do that all night.”

  “I can stop by the front desk on my way back, or I’m sure you could give a call.”

  “No, no. I’ll get them tomorrow. I hate to be a nuisance. Speaking of, thank you so much for your help. You’ve done too much.”

  Kate waited outside in the hall until Sydney gave a nod for her to step through the door. Carefully, Kate laid the diaper bag on the stand near the entryway and surveyed the somewhat basic room. “It’s no problem. Here’s the onesie from the gift shop, and I grabbed an extra water for you too. I can’t stand tap water.”

  Sydney’s pink cheeks showed her desire to accept the gift warring with her pride. “I don’t actually mind tap water.”

  Kate waited patiently, the bag extended on her wrist.

  “Right, Max,” Sydney said. “Well, thank you. I really appreciate all you’ve done for us.”

  Kate didn’t bother to correct her about the purchase; whose money was spent wasn’t important to anyone except Kate. She waited as Sydney pulled a few pillows down to create a soft cradle on the bed. She laid the sleeping Lydia between, and once she’d secured her daughter, she turned back to Kate.

  “I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done for us.” Her eyes watered. “We’ve only just met, and your kindness is—well, very much appreciated.”

  Kate’s level of discomfort shot through the roof. She didn’t like “feelings” all that much more than Max, and she didn’t know how to deal with them—her own, or anyone else’s. “It’s nothing. Really, it was me being selfish. I deal with grief through retail therapy, and I don’t have an excuse to buy baby clothes on my own, so Lydia gave me the excuse I needed. If there’s nothing else, I’ll head out…”

  Sydney launched herself across the room as Kate trailed off, almost childish in her joyous appreciation as she clasped her arms around Kate and squeezed. Kate stood stock still, concerned, wondering if this was normal behavior for a cheap, thirty-dollar flippant gift.

  “Sydney, please, don’t worry,” Kate said. “I didn’t mean to offend—”

  “You didn’t offend.” Sydney took a huge sniff and embraced Kate tighter for one long, extended moment. “It’s been so long since anyone’s done something to take care of me, or Lydia, and it means so much. You’ll never know how much.”

  “It’s nothing,” Kate said, disentangling herself from the young mother before she, too, got emotional. Kate felt the stirrings of something in her chest, an almost teary sort of tickle, and she banished it with a sharp turn of her heel. She headed straight for the door before anything else could set her off.

&
nbsp; “Hey, Kate?” Sydney called after her. “I hope—I hope you don’t leave for New York tomorrow. I think you should stay the week. Not for Max or Whitney, but for you. For us.”

  Kate gave a half smile. “If I stay, will you consider joining us for a massage tomorrow? I’m sure the resort has professional child care. Both will be fully paid for by me. Or Max.”

  “I couldn’t—”

  “Think about it.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Sydney acquiesced. “Good night, Kate.”

  “Good night.” Kate’s heels clicked like miniature pecks of relief as they carried her away from the emotional bomb of a person that was Sydney Banks.

  Sydney seemed to be stirring up all sorts of friendships and emotions among the group of women, and no one quite seemed able to pinpoint why. She’d drawn two feuding ex-best friends together—albeit tenuously—with the help of Lulu, and reunited a group of women without much in common except a shared apartment floor in college and memories of better times. Maybe it was Sydney’s rawness, the joy and desperation, the hope and pain all wrapped into one person. It was too much for one soul to carry.

  Where is this foolish husband of hers? Kate wondered for the millionth time. Why isn’t he taking care of his wife and child?

  Kate couldn’t help it. Her feet pulled her toward the lobby of the resort as she strolled away from Sydney’s room. Unlike the young mother, Kate didn’t mind being a nuisance. She’d seen Sydney use all the pillows to form a crib for her baby and assumed they’d be doing some sort of co-sleeping arrangement. If Sydney needed more pillows, she should have them. They were paying enough to stay in the damn spa, after all.

  “Hello,” Kate said, leaning against the heavily polished front desk. She waited impatiently for the young front desk clerk to look up, thanking heavens it wasn’t the same woman who’d offered her champagne after Max had dumped her in this very spot hours before. “I’d like a few extra pillows ordered to the room of Sydney Banks.”

  “Certainly.” The front desk clerk smiled, her fingers clicking against the keys as she typed. When she stopped, a furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “Um, I’m sorry. Are you Sydney Banks?”

  “No, I’m Kate Cross. This is for my friend. I came from her room, and she asked me to send some pillows for her baby.”

  “I’m sorry, but there doesn’t appear to be a Sydney Banks staying at Serenity Spa & Resort.”

  “You’re wrong,” Kate said. “I just came from her room. She’s in 114.”

  The front desk clerk shook her head. “I’m sorry, that’s not right. There’s no Sydney Banks staying in room 114—or anywhere in the resort for that matter.”

  “She’s part of the Banks/DeBleu wedding,” Kate said. “She’s family, I mean.”

  “And you’re sure that’s her full name?”

  “For Pete’s sake, yes! Is there a manager here I can talk to?”

  “I’m sorry, but he’s dealing with another issue.”

  “Well, fine. Can you get some pillows sent for me to room 114?”

  “Sorry, that room was paid for in cash.”

  “So?”

  “We require a credit card for incidentals.”

  Kate rolled her eyes and pulled a fifty from her wallet. She slapped it on the counter. “See that the woman in 114 gets pillows, and double-check her name is documented correctly on the paperwork, will you? This is ridiculous.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the front desk clerk said. “I apologize for any inconvenience.”

  Kate didn’t wait for further confirmation before she left and headed to her own room. She needed to start the aspirin and the Fiji water, and her nighttime ritual, or she’d be waking with horrible skin and depressing bags under her eyes in the morning.

  It wasn’t until she reached the elevator that she stopped short as several of Sydney’s odd behaviors clicked into place. Sydney’s ambiguous stories about her husband and the cause of their separation. A fake name given at a resort—which would surely require some sort of false identification. A room paid for in cash. Her lack of funds or any sort of job that would keep her in one place for too long.

  If Sydney Banks was her real name, and she had, in fact, given false identification to the front desk clerk, it wasn’t much of a leap to assume the young mother had something to hide. Most people didn’t bother to cover their tracks, unless…

  “Holy shit,” Kate muttered, pressing manicured fingernails to her forehead. “She’s on the run.”

  Fourteen

  Ginger felt buzzed as the elevator doors clinked open, and not because of the alcohol—she’d had one, maybe two glasses of wine and a sip of champagne. She’d found it much more entertaining to sit and listen to the fascinating women congregated at the bar than sip herself senseless on drinks. The—what had Kate called it?—the itty-bitty pity committee. How cute, Ginger thought fondly.

  Even Emily’s presence hadn’t completely derailed Ginger’s mood. In fact, there’d been something a little off about her, like a puzzle piece that looked like it should fit but didn’t quite match with how Ginger remembered her old friend. On the outside, Emily looked to be as Ginger would have expected—well-dressed, attractive enough, an average almost-forty-year-old meeting old friends at a bar for drinks.

  But something underneath the exterior had seemed a little forced, a little over the top. And when the topic of Ginger and Emily’s feud had been broached, Emily had practically been too distracted to notice.

  Looking back, Ginger would have thought her somewhat snippy (and wine-infused) comments might have sparked something in Emily. An argument at the very least, or maybe an apology, but Emily hadn’t taken the bait. It wasn’t quite right, and the replay of the evening’s conversations haunted Ginger as she slipped back up to her room. Had something happened to Emily that caused a vital shift in her personality? And if so, what?

  Ginger battled with her thoughts as she weaved her way down a hallway filling slowly with flowers that dripped across doorways and signs boasting the wedding of Whitney DeBleu and Arthur Banks for anyone who hadn’t noticed the first nine hundred indications of their weeklong extravaganza. The amount of love was stifling in this resort. Photos of the couple were set everywhere, in neat, crystalline frames surrounded by bouquets of fresh flowers. The family had spared no expense for this hurrah.

  Humming with the pleasantry of adult, girlish conversation, Ginger stopped to inhale the scent of fat white roses blooming in a vase on the table in the hallway before her room. With a quick glance in either direction, Ginger plucked one of the roses out of the vase and continued toward her door, reminiscing about her reunion with Kate and Emily, and the meeting of Sydney and Lulu.

  How exotic, Ginger thought with a wave of pleasure. (Lulu was from South Carolina!) These women with their big problems and fast-and-furious lifestyles. Kate, now the glamorous millionaire. Sydney, the struggling young single mother. Emily, the… Ginger hesitated, sighed. Emily, a shadow of her former self.

  Try as she might, Ginger couldn’t seem to remember college life without Emily. The two had been inseparable since they’d met at one of those stupid first-year orientation seminars. They’d sat next to each other in a class where every student was forced to make a candle with their school colors and talk about the major they’d chosen and what great things they were going to do with their lives.

  While everyone else had taken the exercise seriously, Ginger had been unable to resist a snarky comment about this being the most expensive art class she’d ever taken in her life, thanks to the amount she was paying in tuition to build candles. Only one person in the room had laughed. Ginger had turned around and given a grateful smile to Emily, and after splitting a pizza for lunch, they’d become fast friends.

  They had also managed to finagle their way out of the default roommates they’d been assigned to move in together in a tiny dorm room. Ginger the
n convinced Emily to flip around her class schedule so they’d be able to share homework duties. Emily had wanted to be a teacher from day one; Ginger was going the management route. While Emily had gone for a degree in English, Ginger had opted for the communications path. Ginger wondered if Emily had ever gotten her master’s, if she’d ever gone on to teach.

  With a huff, Ginger pictured the Emily from college and compared that girl to the version she’d seen this evening at the bar. Something told Ginger life hadn’t gone exactly as Emily had planned—the master’s degree, the husband, the children, maybe a dog. Then again, it wasn’t as if Ginger had taken the time to actually engage Emily in conversation, so maybe Ginger had it all wrong. It’d been a long time since she’d considered Emily a friend, and it was really none of her business whether Emily was a thriving thirtysomething or not.

  Maybe it’s time, Ginger thought. Time to truly let that stubborn grudge go. Kate had made a good point: all had worked out as it was meant to be. And if Emily hadn’t kissed Frank that one awful night, maybe Ginger would have taken Marcus Strait up on his offer of a second date. Maybe she would have staunchly continued to ignore Frank’s phone calls in an effort to prove a point with her indifference until she’d pushed him away for good. Maybe she never would have gotten the courage to drop her stubborn facade and reunite with Frank, a union that had given her nearly two decades of love and three beautiful children.

  Ginger reached her door and let those frightening thoughts slip away. A sense of warmth and comfort wrapped around her as she inserted the handy little key card into the lock. Her life wasn’t so bad, after all. So what if she had to work long hours and sometimes got irritated by her free-spirited husband? Frank loved her, Ginger loved him, and their kids were healthy. She didn’t have things as bad as she liked to think—and the little issue with Elsie could be solved by her and Frank teaming up together, like they always did.