Beauty in Flight, #1

by Robin Patchen

  Constantine dominated the conversation, telling them about his latest business ventures, but Harper barely listened. She ate her dinner, tried to ignore Carter, who occasionally whispered comments in her ear that made her skin crawl, and focused on Jenny. Something about her didn’t sit well. Harper had seen that vacant look in people’s eyes before. Jenny reminded her of so many women she’d known back in Vegas, woman who’d latched on to some man thinking they’d hit the jackpot only to discover they themselves had been the prize. Women who’d gotten stuck with horrid men in horrid relationships and didn’t have the courage to break free. Harper had seen that expression in the mirror. She knew it well.

  Harper didn’t know much about the world of finance and big business. But women being cowed and used? Unfortunately, that was a world she knew very well. She’d been there, and she’d met a lot of women who’d been there. If she’d come out of prison with nothing else, she’d come out with the determination to help women who were trapped in relationships with cruel men. She didn’t know if Jenny was in that category, but she intended to find out and, if she could, to help.

  Derrick caught her eye across the table. She could see the need there. The need for her to help him schmooze Constantine. She didn’t think she’d be helping Derrick much tonight. Maybe if he knew what she did, he’d understand.

  Something told her he wouldn’t.

  Chapter Ten

  Constantine regaled them with stories like a king with his court. Harper couldn’t deny the man was compelling. Marjorie even forgot to give Harper hate-filled glances when he was talking. Unfortunately, Carter didn’t forget about Harper. Instead, when Constantine’s stories alluded to the many women he’d known, Carter whispered comments under his breath that only Harper could hear, comments that had her hands clenching beneath the table. She said nothing in return, refusing to acknowledge his presence, though even if she could have pretended not to hear, his beer-and-garlic scented breath was impossible to ignore.

  She glanced at Derrick a few times, hoping for some help, at least an encouraging smile, but Derrick, like Kitty, Keith, and Marjorie, had fallen under Constantine’s spell.

  Not Russell and Betts, though. They didn’t interrupt him or try to steer the conversation elsewhere, but they shared the occasional lifted eyebrow or quiet laugh as though witnessing the scene as spectators, not participants.

  Jenny barely glanced up from her plate.

  Finally, when the serving dishes had been emptied of pasta, when the forks had been put down and Constantine had paused for a breath, Betts stood. “Anybody want a cup of coffee with dessert?”

  When nobody but Harper took her up on that offer, Betts said, “Or another drink?”

  Russell stood beside his wife, kissed her cheek, and said, “I’ll manage the drinks. You get the pie.”

  “Who can possibly eat pie after such a heavy meal?” Marjorie spoke to the table but gave Harper a pointed look.

  “I’d love some.” Harper stood and began gathering dinner dishes.

  Kitty helped, too. “Maybe if you moved more and drank less, Marjorie, you could eat dessert.”

  “Now, Kitty,” Betts said, “I don’t need anybody’s help. Marjorie’s our guest.”

  Kitty met Harper’s gaze and rolled her eyes. For the first time since they’d sat for dinner, Harper felt a glimmer of amusement. When she reached for Jenny’s plate, she smiled at her. “Want to join us?”

  Jenny’s gaze cut to Constantine. His nod was tiny, nearly imperceptible. Jenny pushed back her chair and took his plate.

  They headed for the kitchen and started scraping dishes. Jenny went to the sink and ran the water.

  “Oh, honey,” Betts said. “I’ll do the dishes if you’ll just help clear the table.”

  Jenny’s pale cheeks reddened just a bit. “I’ll just wash the pots and pans, if you don’t mind.”

  Betts regarded her with kind eyes, then snatched her apron off the counter. “Wear this so you don’t get your pretty outfit dirty.”

  Jenny slid it on and settled in with sudsy water and a sponge.

  Harper returned to the dining room to gather more dirty dishes.

  “I can’t imagine why you don’t hire help for these gatherings.” Constantine’s remark was directed at Russell, who was carrying a few bottles of beer to the table. “I’m sure your wife would appreciate it.”

  Russell laughed. “You know Betts better than that.” He looked at his wife, who was halfway to the kitchen with an empty platter in each hand. “I offered, believe me.”

  “My house, my rules.” She winked at her husband and disappeared around the corner.

  Harper snatched the remaining dirty dishes from the table.

  “Her house?” Derrick took the offered beer, eyebrows lifted. “Did you give it to her?”

  “Not even close, my friend,” Russell said. “Unlike me, Betts came from wealth. This was their family’s beach home when she was growing up. Her parents gave it to her when they relocated to Florida.”

  “Russell married up, to say the least.” Constantine’s words seemed laced with indulgence, superiority.

  If Russell noticed, he didn’t let on. “I married up in every conceivable way.”

  From the kitchen, Betts said, “And don’t you forget it!” Then she rounded the corner and kissed his cheek. “And so did I.” To everyone else, she said, “More water? Constantine, you need some Scotch?”

  He nodded, and Russell headed toward the wet bar and poured the drink.

  Harper took the remaining dishes to the kitchen. She’d never seen such a strong bond between a married couple as the one Russell and Betts shared. Harper’s parents loved each other, but they’d never been quite so in love.

  Though Betts had been focused on everyone at the table, her focus had always, first, been on Russell. And he’d been the same way.

  So unlike Derrick, who’d not only not sat beside her but who’d barely looked at her all night. Derrick had been too busy sucking up to Russell and Constantine to pay any attention to her. Did he have any idea how he looked to outsiders? How desperate he seemed?

  Desperate.

  That was the word, the only word to describe what had changed with him in the previous few weeks. Now that she thought about it, it was crystal clear. It was the reason he’d barely spared her a glance all night, apparently hadn’t even noticed how Carter had come on to her. The realization had her stomach dropping for the second time that evening. Because desperate men couldn’t be trusted.

  She’d learned that the hard way.

  “Would you see who wants pie?” Betts asked.

  “Sure.” Harper pushed her worries about Derrick aside and returned to the dining room.

  When everyone who wanted a slice of Bett’s apparently famous cherry pie had some—that was to say, everyone except Marjorie and Jenny, who was still in the kitchen—Harper poured herself a cup of decaf and took her seat. She’d offered to help Jenny, but the girl shooed her away. She seemed in no hurry to return to the dining room.

  Carter leaned close and whispered in her ear. “What’s this I hear?”

  She’d had it with his whispered remarks. Whatever Derrick’s issue was, it wasn’t her problem. She didn’t have to put up with these comments from Carter or anybody. She turned to face him, let her voice rise. “What did you hear, Carter?”

  The chattering at the table stopped. She felt their gazes on her, but she didn’t break eye contact with the jerk.

  His face flushed, and his smile got tight at the corners. He glanced at Marjorie, and Harper followed the gaze. The woman was glaring at them both.

  Harper didn’t have to put up with that, either. She ignored her.

  “What’s this?” Derrick’s eyes narrowed as if he’d just realized what was going on.

  “I hear you two are sleeping in separate bedrooms.” Carter said it with a hint of humor and an undertone of spite.

  Marjorie said, “Oh, for the love of—”

  “W
hat about it?” Derrick’s face flushed, and his gaze flicked to Constantine and back to Carter.

  “Just thought it was curious.”

  Russell’s hand clamped down on Carter’s shoulder. “Doesn’t seem like that’s any of your business, my friend.” He focused on Marjorie. “Are you two planning anything special for your anniversary? That’s coming up, right?”

  “Five glorious years in September.” Her expression said her marriage had been anything but, and Harper’s animosity toward the woman shifted to sympathy. Who could blame her with a husband like Carter? “We were considering Florence.”

  “Wonderful choice,” Betts said.

  Harper focused on Marjorie. “Have you been there before?”

  The woman blinked, focused on her, seemed to forget to scowl. In fact, she looked wistful. “When I was a little girl, my father took me. I’ve always wanted to go back.”

  Harper was about to ask a follow-up question when Constantine cleared his throat. “Yes, Florence is lovely, all that art. Have you ever been to Mykonos?” And he launched into stories of Greece, which he called his homeland, though based on his accent, he’d been born and raised in New York.

  Finally, dessert was finished, the dishes cleared, and Constantine seemed to run out of stories. He pushed back in his chair and stood. “Let’s play cards, shall we?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Harper poured herself another cup of decaf and glanced at Derrick, who stood beside Constantine at the wet bar, pouring two glasses of Scotch.

  Just what Derrick needed—to get a little drunker, suck up a little more.

  This was not the man she’d met in Vegas.

  She’d come on this weekend away because she’d wanted to get to know him better. So far, she didn’t like what she saw.

  Harper joined the rest of the ladies on the screened-in porch. After the cool of the air conditioning, the warm muggy air wrapped around her like a blanket. Hot coffee had been a bad idea.

  A white wicker sofa and a couple of matching chairs were arranged to form a seating area. Betts, Kitty, and Marjorie were on the sofa. Jenny chose one of the chairs, so Harper settled into the other and stared at the surf beyond the boardwalk. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s my happy place,” Betts said. “I have a lot of good memories in this house.”

  “And you’re making a lot more,” Kitty said. “Are you missing your kids tonight?”

  Betts smiled. “A little, but they’re having fun with my folks in Florida. They’ll be back next week.”

  “How old are they?” Harper asked.

  Harper learned about Betts and Russell’s two teenagers, then about Kitty and Keith’s three kids—all under four. Apparently, Marjorie and Carter didn’t have any children, though whether by choice or not, she didn’t know.

  “Do you want children?” Betts asked Harper. “Assuming you find the right man.” She laughed and added, “Not that Derrick isn’t the right man. That’s not what I meant.”

  Harper smiled. “I knew what you meant. Yeah, someday, I’d love to have kids. I never thought I’d want them, but you reach a certain age—”

  “What are you,” Marjorie asked, “twenty-one?”

  If only she could be that young again. If only she could go back and make better choices and change the previous seven years. “I’m twenty-eight.”

  “Really?” Kitty said. “You’re just two years younger than I am.” She focused on Marjorie. “Take a good look, honey.” She pointed back and forth between Harper and herself. “This is what kids’ll do to you.” She regarded Harper again and added, “Not that I ever looked like that.”

  Harper waved off the comment. “Don’t be silly. You’re beautiful.”

  Kitty looked at Betts and feigned a sympathetic tone. “So young to be losing her eyesight.”

  Betts bumped Kitty’s shoulder. “You’re the only person who thinks you’re not beautiful.”

  “These pregnancy pounds—”

  “Only add to it.” Betts turned to Jenny. “And what about you? Do you want kids someday?”

  The young woman shrugged and glanced inside. “Probably not.”

  “You don’t want them,” Betts said, “or you don’t think you’ll have them?”

  “Constantine has children from his first wife. He doesn’t want more.”

  Betts’s smile faded. “But what do you want?”

  Jenny swallowed, shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “How long have you two been together?” Kitty asked.

  “A few years.”

  Betts’s eyebrows disappeared behind her blond bangs. “Years? I had no idea.”

  Jenny looked toward the surf. “I prefer to stay at home when he travels. He’s always so busy.”

  “Pfft!” Marjorie slammed her glass on the table. “He treats you like dirt.”

  Jenny’s face paled, and she glanced through the screen toward the men inside. As if Constantine paid her any attention at all. The men had gathered around the smaller kitchen table and were in the middle of a game of poker.

  “My dear friend.” Betts reached across Kitty and patted Marjorie’s leg. “I’m not sure you ought to be throwing stones.” She pulled her hand away and focused on Jenny again. “I’d love to hear your story.”

  Marjorie said nothing, just studied Jenny.

  The woman seemed to wilt under their gazes.

  Harper cleared her throat and worked up her courage. Being candid was not her strong suit. “I’ve been there.”

  All the gazes turned to her.

  “Dated a guy back in…” She swallowed. Decided not to share that much. “Before I met Derrick. He started out being so nice to me, treated me like gold—for the first few months. After that, I was window dressing. Brought along because I looked good on his arm.” Had she just complimented herself? How ridiculous she must look. But it was true, so she continued. “Looks are liars, let me tell you. I was a mess. After a while, you start believing you’re equal to the way you’re being treated. As if you’re a reflection of everyone else’s opinion of you. He treated me like dirt until I believed I was dirt.”

  Jenny leaned forward. That interest was enough to keep Harper talking.

  “Then one day, I’d had enough. I broke up with him.”

  “What happened?” Jenny asked.

  “It’s taken me a long time to stop seeing dirt in the mirror.” She reached across the space to Jenny and squeezed her hand, then let it go. “Dumping the guy was the first step. I wish I’d had some good friends before I did it. I ended up with another guy who treated me exactly the same, and the cycle started all over again.”

  “Not that it’s any of my business,” Marjorie asked, “but is that the reason for the separate bedrooms?”

  The question surprised her, but not as much as the person who’d asked it. “That’s exactly the reason. I don’t trust men very easily. I doubt I’ll ever trust a man again. Right now, I need to know I’m not some guy’s hobby or decoration. A little something to brag about when people aren’t impressed with his new car or new watch. I’m not just the dirt clinging to some man’s shoes.”

  “Amen.” Betts lifted her water glass in a sort of salute. “You’re smart to wait, to make sure it’s real.”

  “How will you know if he can be trusted?” Marjorie asked. “How can anybody ever know?”

  If Harper had the answer to that, she’d have found Mr. Right long before—and skimmed over all those Mr. Wrongs. Clearly, Marjorie, too, had trusted the wrong man. She’d been married for five years to a man who’d flirt with another woman right under her nose. A man who’d rub her face in it.

  Betts sighed. “Maybe I just got lucky.”

  “You did,” Marjorie said.

  “I did, too,” Kitty said. “Keith’s a good guy. He’s never strayed. He’s made some stupid decisions.” A shadow crossed her face. “But I know he loves me and the kids.”

  Betts said, “He does. The rest of it, he’ll get figured out.”
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  Apparently Betts knew the story, whatever it was.

  The women were quiet a moment as a few young men wandered down the boardwalk, laughing and ribbing each other. Their voices faded until only the sound of the surf and the muted noise of the men inside filled the silence.

  An enjoyable moment, not just because of the beach and the women who surrounded her, but because she realized she didn’t feel nervous. Didn’t feel like somebody was watching her. Even at Red’s house, she sometimes got that prickly feeling on her arms. That’s how she knew she was crazy. What kind of stalker would follow her across the country?

  None. Obviously.

  But she felt safe tonight. Maybe the fear was wearing off. Maybe that’s all it had ever been.

  The man in the alley back in Vegas must have just seen her and followed. Bad luck on her part, nothing more.

  “I think…” It was Jenny who spoke, and the rest of the women turned to her.

  Harper leaned in, willed her to continue.

  Jenny swallowed. “I think maybe I’ve trusted the wrong man.”

  Betts stood, crossed the small porch, and crouched beside Jenny’s chair. “I’ve known Constantine since he and Russell were at school together. They’ve been friends for thirty years. Constantine is a great businessman. He used to be a good man. But the wealth, the success… He’s changed. And not for the better.” She patted the young woman’s knee. “I don’t say this to hurt you, Jenny, but to help, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You say you’ve been with him for years?” At Jenny’s nod, Betts continued. “We’ve seen him many times in the last few years. He’s never without a woman. And he’s never mentioned your name.”

  Jenny’s expression didn’t change except for the tears that filled her eyes. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

  “Where does your family live?” Harper asked.

  “I’m from Missouri.”

  “Go home,” Harper said. “That’s what I did wrong. I was too proud to go home after I dumped loser number one. If I had…” If she had, everything would have been different.