“Uh, have you been to the country club?” Pearl asked.
“Not yet. But Jolene Brown mentioned it. She’s been very nice to me. She invited me to her house for a luncheon next Sunday.”
Pearl didn’t say a thing. She didn’t think she would ever hear the words “Jolene” and “nice” together in the same sentence.
“I’ve heard about that Jolene Brown,” Mary said. “Didn’t she just win ten million dollars in the lottery?”
“She won the lottery,” Pearl said. “But it was more like five million.”
“I’ve never met her,” Mary said. “But from what I’m told you might want to be careful around her. Especially with your husband.”
Veronique frowned. “Why is that?”
“She can’t be trusted,” Mary said. “I know she had an affair with Bradford Bentley last summer, and it was a mess when Barbara and Jolene’s husband found out about it. That’s why Patrick left her. Isn’t that right, Pearl?”
Pearl cleared her throat. “My mama always said if you got nothing nice to say, don’t say nothing. I think I’ll keep my lips zipped on this.” Pearl smiled slyly. “But you two can carry on.”
Veronique and Mary laughed. “Hmm,” said Veronique. “I admit that there is something about Jolene that doesn’t feel quite right. I’m not sure what it is.”
“People say she’s a sneaky social climber,” Mary said. “A big wannabe.”
Veronique narrowed her eyes in thought. “Now that I think about it, when I mentioned to Jolene that I was coming here to get my hair colored, she got a strange look on her face and said that I could do better. She recommended another salon in Washington, D.C.”
Pearl tightened her lips. How dare Jolene do that. Pearl had never done a single thing to hurt that woman. Not one thing. Why was she always so mean? Pearl had planned to keep her mouth shut but she couldn’t after hearing this.
“She’s nothing but a troublemaker,” Pearl said. “She’s the most conniving woman I’ve ever . . .” Pearl paused and tried to calm herself. “I just stay as far away from her as I can.”
“Probably good advice,” Mary added. “ ’Cause that woman is bad news.”
Veronique nodded. “I hear you. I’m going back to Europe for a short visit the Monday after her luncheon, and Lord knows I’ve got enough on my plate to do to get ready. I haven’t responded to her yet so I’m not obligated. We’ll see.”
Pearl nodded.
“Pearl, if you’re not busy next Saturday, do you think you could stop by and show me how to make that famous rum cake of yours? I’d like to surprise Pierre with it when I go back to Europe.”
“I’d love to show you, but I’ll be here at the salon all day on Saturday. Only days I’m free are Sunday and Monday.”
“Hmm.” The baroness thought for a moment. “How’s Sunday, early afternoon then?”
Pearl nodded. “You’re on. I’ll be there right after church and I’ll bring everything we need to make the cake.”
Veronique shook her head. “I insist that you make out a list and I’ll have one of my guys pick up everything. You should come too, Mary. We’ll have a ball.”
“I’d love to,” Mary said, clasping her hands together.
Pearl smiled. Minute by minute, the baroness was sounding more and more like a homegrown sister.
"MA! PHONE!” JULIETTE yelled from upstairs. Jolene looked up from the dining room table, where she and Darlene Dunn, the party planner she had hired for her luncheon that coming weekend, were poring over menus and decorations as they made the final preparations. Jolene rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Teenagers, she thought. All the effort she had put in over the years to try to make Juliette a graceful young lady sometimes seemed to have had no impact whatsoever.
She stood and walked to the bottom of the stairs, where the strains of the hip-hop music blaring from Juliette’s room became unbearable. “Will you please not shout all over the house,” she yelled. “And turn that damn music down. I have company.”
“Sorry, Mother,” came Juliette’s voice from inside her bedroom.
“Who is it?” Jolene asked as soon as the music died down.
“That lady named Veronique from across the street.”
Jolene’s eyes popped wide open. Thank God, it was the baroness finally calling to RSVP. And to think she’d heard that awful music when Juliette picked up the phone. Jolene ran into the living room, her new pair of animal-print mules flapping on her feet, and picked up the antique phone sitting on the mahogany end table. “It’s the baroness,” she said in a loud whisper to Darlene as she covered the mouthpiece. “I’m sure she’s calling to accept my invitation.”
Darlene gave Jolene a thumbs-up.
“Hello,” Jolene said in as refined a voice as she could muster.
“This is Veronique Valentine from across the street. Is this Jolene?”
“Why, yes it is. And how are you, Veronique?”
“I’m good. And you?”
“Très bien,” Jolene responded, barely containing the excitement in her voice. She was speaking French to a baroness! It didn’t get much more exciting than this.
Veronique laughed lightly. “Yes, well, I got your invitation for lunch on Sunday. It’s already Wednesday, and I’m sorry to be so late calling to respond.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Better late than never I always say. And don’t bother to bring anything with you. Just come and enjoy . . .”
“Ah, excuse me, Jolene.”
Jolene paused and wrinkled her brow. Something didn’t feel quite right. “Yes?”
“I don’t mean to interrupt you, and I thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend your luncheon.”
Jolene nearly dropped the receiver. She couldn’t believe it. Who the hell waited until four days before a social event to decline? Was this some European shit? “Um, but I . . . I’m so sorry to hear that.” Goddammit. How the fuck did this happen?
“So am I,” Veronique said. “I’ll let you go now. I’m sure you’re very busy.”
Jolene stomped her foot, and Darlene glanced up from the party menus on the dining room table with a startled expression on her face. “Veronique, may I ask why you can’t come? I was really counting on introducing you to some of my friends.”
Silence. Perhaps she was out of line asking the baroness such a question but Jolene thought she had a right to know why Veronique was turning down the invitation. Jolene’s whole reason for throwing this stupid luncheon was to have an excuse to invite Veronique over.
“Well, actually, Jolene, I’ve accepted another invitation the same day from Pearl.”
Jolene held the receiver in front of her face and stared at it in disbelief. She what?! It took every ounce of restraint she could muster not to throw the phone on the floor and smash it with her heel.
“Pearl Jackson?” Jolene almost choked getting the name out.
“Yes.”
Jolene bit her bottom lip. Her head felt like it would explode any second. “Very well,” she said between clenched teeth. “I’m sorry you can’t make it.”
Jolene slammed the phone down. “Fuck!” She couldn’t believe the baroness was turning her down to accept an invitation from that frumpy-assed bitch. Oh, the agony! She clenched her fists and screamed at the top of her lungs.
Darlene jumped up and raced into the living room, her heels clicking loudly on the wood floor. “Is everything all right, Jolene?”
“No!”
“Is there anything I can do?” Darlene asked, her café au lait complexion looking flushed as she stared at Jolene with concern.
Jolene didn’t say a word. She ran across the floor to the Henredon coffee table, grabbed the crystal flower vase, and hurled it into the fireplace.
Darlene gasped and backed slowly out of the room as the vase smashed into tiny pieces. Jolene paced up and down the Oriental carpet as Darlene stared at her with a look of total fear in her eyes. Jolene didn’t care. This was a
disaster. She had been bragging to anyone who would listen that the baroness would likely be coming to her luncheon. And now this. Turned down in favor of Pearl.
“Ha!” She howled with laughter. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Darlene slipping her petite frame into her size 6 suit jacket, then gathering her things from the table and hastily shoving them into her canvas tote bag. Still, Jolene couldn’t stop laughing. She sank down onto the couch, holding her stomach in a mad fit of giggles. This shit was so fucking unbelievable it was actually funny. She shook her head.
“Don’t bother to get up. I’ll let myself out,” Darlene said as she dashed across the living room carpet. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Jolene’s eyes followed Darlene’s feet darting across the rug, and she thought of the French Aubusson carpet she had ordered to replace this antique one, so she could impress Veronique. She had paid extra to have it rush-delivered and it was due to arrive tomorrow. Now the baroness wouldn’t even see it.
“You do that,” Jolene said to Darlene without even looking up as the front door opened and shut. She couldn’t stand Darlene anyway. The tiny bitch was a snob like all the rest.
Jolene squeezed her head with her hands. Her party was ruined. Ruined. All because of Pearl.
She jumped up and paced the carpet again. That bitch was going to pay for this. No one did this kind of shit to her and got away with it. She didn’t know how she would get back at Pearl but she would think of something.
BARBARA WAS SLIPPING into her terry-cloth bathrobe when Bradford walked into the bedroom wearing one of his favorite Brioni suits and bearing a tray covered with a white linen napkin. On the tray sat their finest bone china, piled high with bacon, eggs Benedict, wheat toast, and freshly squeezed orange juice. The smell of her favorite coffee, Jamaica Blue Mountain, filled the air. In the center of the tray was a sterling silver bud vase with a single red rose.
“Oh, my,” Barbara exclaimed, as she hopped back onto the bed. She clasped her hands together as he carefully placed the tray in front of her. “This is so sweet of you.”
He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
Barbara smiled. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting anything special today. You already gave me the car.”
“Never underestimate your old man.” He removed a small Tiffany box from the inside pocket of his suit and presented it to her with a grand bow.
“Goodness, Bradford. You didn’t!” She opened the box to find a pair of platinum and diamond stud earrings. “Oh, they’re precious.”
“Two carats each,” he said with pride as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Like ’em?”
“I love them.”
“Good. ’Cause they go with this.” He reached into another pocket and pulled out a second Tiffany box, this one long and narrow.
Barbara put her hand over her heart. “I don’t believe you, Bradford.”
He smiled at her as she opened the long narrow box and lifted out a platinum and diamond tennis bracelet. She gasped. “Oh, Bradford. It’s gorgeous.”
“Here, let me help you put it on.” He took the bracelet from her, and she held out her arm. After he fastened the clasp, she held the bracelet up and admired it. “Thank you. It’s lovely. Did you fix all of this food yourself?”
“Let’s not go that far,” Bradford said as he straightened his red silk necktie.
Barbara chuckled and took a sip of coffee. “Oh, so Phyllis did the cooking?”
“Hey, I supervised. I planned the menu. I picked out the gifts.”
“Well, it’s the thought that counts. Thank you, again, Bradford. This is the best birthday I’ve had in ages.”
He sat down next to her on the bed and gently took her hands. “I know I’m not the easiest man to live with, Barb. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my work, it must seem like I forget about you, but I don’t.” He squeezed her hands. “So, what do you have planned for your fifty-first birthday?”
Barbara blinked. The question took her by surprise. Bradford rarely asked her how she was going to spend her day. She was also startled to hear the age fifty-one mentioned along with her name. It sounded strange. She shivered. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. I can’t believe I’m . . . um . . . that age.”
“Don’t worry about it. You don’t look a day over thirty-five, Barb. It’s uncanny how young you still look.”
“Thank you, Bradford. I work hard at it.”
He released her hands. “So? What are your plans for today?”
“Oh, right. Well, normally I’d be going to the club to work out and then to the office. But I’m going to stay in today and catch up on some reading. I may go to Pearl’s salon later for a pedicure.”
“What about that literary board you sit on that usually meets in D.C. around the first week of the month?”
“That’s tomorrow. Today I want to relax and pamper myself.”
“Good.” He kissed her on the forehead and stood up. “Enjoy your breakfast and the rest of your day, sweetheart. I’m having an early dinner with a client, but I want us to spend a nice romantic evening together. Maybe pop a bottle of Cristal.”
So he had a dinner meeting? Well, that wasn’t really unusual. Bradford was always meeting clients. “Sounds good to me. I look forward to it.”
He leaned over and kissed her again, and Barbara watched as he strolled across the carpet and out the door. She held up her new bracelet. It was moments like this that reminded her why she had stayed with Bradford through all the ups and downs. He could be so sweet and generous when he wanted to be.
She finished her breakfast and reached into her nightstand for a fresh pack of Benson & Hedges. The phone rang and she wiped her hands on the linen napkin and picked the phone up.
“Hi, Mom, happy birthday.” It was her eldest daughter, Robin.
“Hi, baby. And thanks. Are you at work?”
“Yes. How would you and Dad like to come into D.C. for dinner this evening to celebrate your birthday?”
Barbara smiled. Robin had just started working in downtown D.C. after completing her master’s degree at the University of Maryland. Bradford had wanted Robin to come and work for him at his company, Digitech, but Robin wanted to strike out on her own. She’d found a job at an information technology firm and bought a condo near Chinatown. It was probably one of Bradford’s biggest disappointments, since he almost always got what he wanted one way or the other.
Barbara secretly admired Robin’s independence. Barbara had gotten married before finishing college and was pregnant with Robin within a month. She had worked briefly when she and Bradford were first married while he got his business off the ground. But when he landed his first million-dollar contract, she quit work to stay home with the children.
“Your father is meeting a client for dinner, but I’d love to come.”
“Good. Rebecca’s leaving work early, so she can stop by and pick you up. We’ll go someplace special for dinner. Maybe B. Smith’s since that’s your favorite restaurant.”
Rebecca was the baby, although heaven help Barbara if Rebecca ever heard her say that. She was twenty-six years old and had been married for two years now. She and her husband had just bought a small house in Lake Arbor, not far from Silver Lake.
“Wonderful. It’ll give me an excuse to wear the new diamond bracelet and earrings your father just gave me.”
“Another set?” Robin said teasingly. “You’re going to have to open a jewelry boutique if this keeps up.”
Barbara laughed. “A woman can never have too much jewelry. What time do you want us to meet you downtown?”
“Say six o’clock? At B. Smith’s?”
Barbara hung up the phone feeling like the luckiest woman alive. She had a husband who was really trying to make their lives better and two attentive daughters. And she was sober. This was the best birthday she could remember in years. It was perfect, maybe too perfect.
Barbara shook that thought from her head. She would see
if Pearl could take her at the last minute for a manicure and pedicure, then she’d call Rebecca. Maybe she could even get a little shopping done before she hooked up with the girls.
JOLENE UNDID THE top button to her St. John pantsuit and leaned forward in front of the full-length mirror in her dressing room. She smiled approvingly at herself. She was showing just the right amount of cleavage for a dinner date with an ex-husband whom she was trying to steal back from his mistress.
The black suit, with silver-toned accessories, was one of her favorites in her vast collection of St. John suits. Most of the designer’s outfits had gold-toned accessories, so this one was a rare find. She knew she had to have it the minute she spotted it on the rack at Neiman Marcus.
Jolene turned from side to side to admire herself. She had put on a few pounds but still had her hourglass figure. Not bad for a thirty-something-year-old broad, as Terrence would have said. It had been ages since she’d thought of Terrence, a former lover from a distant time and place.
Forget all those ex-lovers. She wanted her husband back. She hated Pearl Jackson. Not only had she stolen Patrick by sneaking in sideways right after they separated; she had stolen the baroness and ruined Jolene’s well-planned luncheon. A few women had shown up, but that didn’t make up for the baroness not being there. Pearl was going to have to pay for that.
Jolene knew Patrick well enough to know that her newly found wealth and the promise of some good sex weren’t enough to get him back into her life. She would have to use all the ammunition she could find, from Juliette needing him at home to the history they shared together as a family—all things lacking in his relationship with Pearl Jackson.
Jolene had devised the perfect plan. She had finally persuaded Patrick to have dinner with her and Juliette, for Juliette’s sake, of course. Once Patrick arrived, she would break the news that Juliette had been invited to a sleepover with her girlfriends at the last minute.
She fastened on a pair of white gold earrings and checked herself once more in the mirror. She left the master bedroom suite and walked down the hallway toward Juliette’s room, her black Manolo Blahnik slingbacks clacking on the hardwood floor.
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