by Krista Davis
Natasha whispered, “Did you see Trula’s purse? I have to have it. It’s the perfect size for events like this with a little gold chain to hang it from your shoulder so you can carry a drink around and still have a hand free.”
“Really, Natasha? You upset the chef and all you’re concerned about is Trula’s purse?”
“It’s probably Chanel or Gucci. She must have paid a fortune for it.”
Madison beckoned to me and followed the chef inside.
I held my tongue and said simply, “Natasha, go join Bernie and Francie and get a drink, okay?”
I trailed after Madison. In the kitchen, Chef Wurst ranted, “She was salting my dishes! The nerve! They’re ruined. Ruined, I tell you!”
Madison spoke in a soothing tone. “She’s a local celebrity. A domestic diva who is well-known for her TV show and her fabulous dishes.”
That was a little bit over the top. Natasha, who didn’t use a last name in her quest to be the Martha of the South, grew up with me in a small town in Virginia. I happened to know that her real name was Natasha Smith. Her father had abandoned her and her mother when she was just a child. My mother was certain that was the event that drove Natasha to seek perfection and set lofty goals for herself.
As children, we had competed at everything except the beauty pageants she had loved. Natasha saw our domestic diva advice columns as more competition. I wasn’t really the competitive type, so half the time she just annoyed me. For several years she had lived with my ex-husband, Mars, which was even more cause for annoyance. They had separated, much to her chagrin and his delight.
Nevertheless, I had to admit that she had doting fans who loved her show and followed her ideas for the perfect domestic life.
“Everything smells wonderful,” I said, hoping to calm the irate chef. His jacket buttons threatened to fly off at any moment, and his tomato-red face worried me.
He eyed me. “She may eat. But she will not enter my kitchen again.”
Madison hastily agreed. She grabbed my arm and hurried me into a hallway. “You would think someone like Natasha would know better than to mess with someone else’s dishes. Especially a chef’s. Do you know how hard it was to get Chef Wurst?”
“Natasha thinks she knows best. Always.”
“I think the easiest thing is to assign someone to keep her out of the kitchen. Mars, maybe.”
I shook my head. “Better pick someone else. Mars would not appreciate being Natasha’s babysitter.”
Madison gasped. “She said they were getting back together.”
It was my turn to be surprised. “Not that I’ve heard.”
Madison’s mouth shifted from side to side. “I’ll ask Dr. Jay Charles. He’s too polite to turn me down.”
Voices in an adjoining room rose. There was no way we could avoid overhearing the conversation.
“He’s fourteen, for heaven’s sake. He doesn’t want to be with you or with me. Don’t you get that? Parents are not cool.”
“He wouldn’t think that if you didn’t put the idea into his head. You’ve made me out to be an ogre. He’s been dodging me all night.”
She gasped. “Don’t you twist this around and try to place the blame on me. I am not the one who brought another woman into our lives.”
There was a long moment of silence.
In a tired voice, Hollis said softly, “Cindy, the divorce is final. Surely you don’t want to re-litigate and expose the sordid details here, at a public event.”
“Maybe we should. You would be too ashamed to admit that you’re not paying for Gavin’s education. What would your friends think of you then?”
“Do you really want to open that can of worms?” he asked calmly. “I think I’ve been clear about this. I’ll pay, but only if you finally tell Gavin the truth.”
“In the old days, men had honor, Hollis. It’s a pity you’re not more like Jay Charles.”
“In the old days when wives became cumbersome, kings dispatched them and took new wives. I’m beginning to see the beauty of that.”
“Is that a threat? You would rob Gavin of his mother? I’ve got news for you, Hollis. You may perceive yourself as a king in your own little world, but you cannot shut me in a tower to await my demise. Maybe you’re the one who should be watching your step.”
A door slammed, and we were caught. Madison gasped at the sight of Cindy rushing toward us, her nose and ears so red that they almost glowed against her pale skin. She had worn her hair pulled back in an effort to tame it, but soft tendrils escaped along the sides of her face, giving her a romantic look.
“Cindy! It’s been so long.” Madison held out her arms for a hug. When she let go of Cindy, Madison spoke confidentially. “Are you touring the house, too? Parker and Trula are thinking about making an offer.” She placed her fingers against her chest. “Seems kind of pricy, even for them, don’t you think? Did you know that John Dixon was one of Parker’s ancestors? His house was said to be the largest in Old Town at the time. They tell me it passed out of family hands and burned to the ground. Sounds a little fishy to me.”
The longer Madison rambled, the more Cindy seemed at ease. Apparently Madison’s effort to explain our presence had its desired effect.
“It’s a very special house,” said Cindy. “Anyone would be lucky to live here. Are those dragonfly earrings?”
Madison reached up to her right ear and touched her earring, a dragonfly with a gold body and iridescent purple, blue, and green enameled wings.
“They were a gift from Gage about a month before he died. I wore them tonight so I would feel like he was here with me, giving me the strength to pull off this dinner.”
Cindy reached out and touched Madison’s arm as if she meant to prevent her from babbling again. “I miss Gage, too. If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Gavin to check on him.” Cindy hurried outside.
Madison turned toward me, her eyes huge. “I had no idea they were still squabbling. It breaks my heart. We were good friends once. I always thought they were such a happy couple. Of course, I never see them anymore now.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Divorce and death—the two instant killers of a social life.”
Madison’s husband, Gage, had died less than a year before. I sought something reassuring to say, but she continued speaking, almost like she had to get it out of her system.
“In the beginning, everyone is so thoughtful and kind. There were days when I was surrounded by so many people that I couldn’t hear myself think. They just buzz all around you, asking what you need, asking questions about caskets and hymns, and pushing casseroles in your face. And then one day they’re gone. And all you can do is cry. As the months go on you realize that you’re not being invited to the things you did as a couple. And then your married women friends begin to forget about you when they plan parties and luncheons and bridge. And one day, you realize that the phone hasn’t rung in a week, that no one is texting you except your kids who need money, and that you haven’t showered or left the house in three days.” Madison gazed at me with sad brown eyes. “It’s almost like I died when Gage did.”
I wrapped my arm around her. “Is that why you planned this dinner?”
“I nearly quit! I was in the beginning stages of planning the underground dinner when Gage died. For a while my life was pure craziness, trying to take care of the kids and figuring out the finances. On the rare occasions when people talked to me, they asked me about the dinner. Maybe it was just to talk about something other than Gage’s death, but I decided it would give me a goal and something to focus on while I got used to my new normal. I hate that phrase, new normal. When your husband passes away, nothing will ever be normal again.”
“How are your kids holding up?”
“It was devastating for them. And embarrassing. I overheard one of them telling friends that Gage had been racing a speedboat that overturned.”
I winced. The truth was that Gage had far too much to drink at a local bar. He tried to walk home in his inebria
ted state, fell into the Potomac River, and drowned. “I’m so sorry.”
“You know, Sophie, in a way, I envy my children. They have college to keep them busy. Between classes and Greek life and football games, they don’t have time to dwell on it. I’m the one who goes home to an empty house, where Gage’s absence smacks me in the face around every corner. I’ve thought about putting the house on the market. The kids don’t want me to because we have so many memories there, which is the exact reason I want to sell.”
“I have always heard it’s best to wait a year after losing a spouse before making big changes,” I said.
“Poor Cindy didn’t have that luxury.” Madison paused and gasped.
“What’s wrong?”
“Here I am moaning about my troubles when she’s been going through the same thing. Hollis didn’t die, but once Kelsey was on the scene, Cindy was excluded from all of the law firm socializing. I hated seeing Kelsey at those events. I have to apologize to Cindy. Excuse me, Sophie.”
Madison raised her chin defiantly, shook her hair and fluffed it, and marched out into the crowd.
I hadn’t realized how lucky I was to keep my group of friends after my divorce from Mars. I wasn’t as involved with Mars’s political socializing anymore, but I hadn’t missed that. Besides, he had asked me to arrange a few events for him, so I hadn’t been totally out of the loop.
I had turned to leave when a door banged open. Kelsey was looking back over her shoulder. In her rush, she plowed into me sideways.
It happened in a split second.
“Oh no! I didn’t see you there.” Kelsey reached a hand down to me. I suspected she couldn’t bend over. Her skintight dress barely contained her generous cleavage. One wrong move and her assets would be exposed.
I scrambled to my feet, taking in the scent of an abundance of Chanel No 5. Her blond hair tumbled over her shoulders. Her dress was way too daring for me, and positively gutsy for most women.
“I hope you’re not hurt.” She waved her hands near her face. “I just . . . just had to get away for a breath of air. It’s so crowded out there.”
I was a little confused by her explanation, but I assured her, “I’m fine, thanks.”
She went on her way, walking hesitantly, as though she wasn’t sure where she wanted to be.
I returned to the lawn and spied Nina, Francie, and Bernie waving me over to a table. But before I could get there, a gaunt woman in her seventies nabbed me and hissed, “Leave my son alone.”
Chapter 5
Dear Sophie,
I confess that I am a picky eater. There are lots of things I just don’t like. How do I politely say no at a dinner party when offered something revolting?
Cheese Lover in Cheddar, South Carolina
Dear Cheddar Lover,
Unless you have an allergy or a religious or other dietary conviction (like a non-gluten or vegetarian diet, not one made up on the spot), it has long been the polite thing to try a little bit of every dish served. If you loathe it, scoot it around on your plate a bit so it looks like you ate it.
Sophie
She looked vaguely familiar with high cheekbones and a long, thin nose. Her white hair was teased and swept back into an elegant chignon. She couldn’t be the mother of my current boyfriend, Alex, could she? She must have mistaken me for someone else. “I beg your pardon?”
Steely blue eyes regarded me with contempt. “You are Sophie Bauer?”
No one had called me by my maiden name in a long time. After my marriage, I used the surname Winston. I stared at her, trying to smile in spite of her apparent disdain. The outer lids on her eyes had fallen, making her eyes almost triangular in shape. Her lips pulled tight. She was attractive, but cold in a slightly creepy way, like an old woman who resented the hired help.
But as I gazed at this stranger, her pasty complexion clued me in. My mother had always said Mrs. Brown had flawless, unwrinkled skin because she stayed out of the sun. She was Humphrey’s mother! “Mrs. Brown? Forgive me for not recognizing you. It’s been what? Twenty years or more?”
Despite my friendliness, she maintained her chilliness. “I understand you’re a divorcée now.”
She said it as though it were a mark of shame. Probably half the people present had been divorced. I bit my tongue. Whatever I said would be broadcast to everyone back in my hometown of Berryville, Virginia, not to mention that my parents would hear about it. Desperate for a lifeline, my gaze fell on Natasha. “Mrs. Brown, there’s someone here you’ll be thrilled to see.”
I coaxed her to follow me. “Natasha! Guess who’s here! You remember Mrs. Brown, Humphrey’s mom.”
Mrs. Brown’s expression changed to one of curiosity. Who knew she liked Natasha? And why wouldn’t she like me?
“I hear you’re some kind of television star now,” she murmured.
Natasha beamed. “Who’d have thought a little girl from Berryville would grow up to be a celebrity?”
While Natasha blathered, I realized that Mrs. Brown was looking past Natasha. She wasn’t paying attention to Natasha at all. I stepped aside to see what she was looking at. Apparently, Dr. Jay Charles had caught her eye.
I interrupted Natasha. “Mrs. Brown, it was lovely seeing you,” I lied. “I need to get to my seat, but maybe Natasha can introduce you to Dr. Charles.”
It was as though one word clicked through and caught her attention. “Doctor?” she asked, arching one eyebrow.
Dr. Charles went by the name “Jay,” though I had heard that his real name might be John. Unfailingly polite, Jay Charles was the epitome of a Southern gentleman. In spite of the heat, he wore a bright red bow tie with a navy blue suit. Medium height, he was slender, possibly a runner. He smiled graciously and spoke softly with a distinct Southern accent.
Jay’s wife had passed away five years ago, making him a popular target of single women in Old Town. He tolerated and might have even enjoyed the attention, but hadn’t dated as far as anyone knew. A professor of pathology at a local medical school, Jay led a quiet life in the massive house next door to Hollis Haberman.
I tried not to appear to be running away from them, but I hurried to my seat at a table with Nina, Francie, and Bernie.
My ex-husband, Mars, had shown up and joined them at the table. A political consultant, Mars was as attractive as most of his clients. He’d been blessed with boyish looks and laughing eyes that made people immediately comfortable with him. In spite of our divorce, we remained good friends.
The first time I had dinner with my beau, Alex, and my ex-husband, Mars, I admit I was a bit uncomfortable. But we had shared meals often enough that it was no longer an issue.
Hollis and Kelsey sat at the table to our right, while Cindy and Gavin were at the table to our left. Somehow we had become the bumper between the warring Habermans.
A delicate white cloth with a green and pink leaf and flower motif covered the table on an angle. A bottle of wine rested in a champagne bucket, and red hurricane glasses held flowers from the garden. Blue plates matched the seat cushions on the chairs, and the wineglasses were a sky-blue hue. They looked to be sturdy blown glass with some bubbles in them, probably handblown in Mexico.
“Where have you been?” asked Nina. “We saved you a seat.”
I scooted into my chair just in time.
Madison clinked a fork against her glass to get everyone’s attention. “Welcome to Old Town’s first fabulous underground dinner. One of the nice things about these dinners is seeing old friends unexpectedly and making new friends as well. We all share a love of food, and there’s nothing more wonderful in life than great food in the company of friends. I know you’re anxious to eat, so I’ll let Chef Wurst tell you about your dinner.”
The portly chef stepped up beside her. “I was most pleased to be chosen for this occasion. Chefs are often restricted by restaurant menus. It’s a delight for us to be asked to create a special dinner for discerning diners like yourselves who are willing to try a surprise menu.
For your dining pleasure this evening, I have drawn from the local markets and cooked with the freshest ingredients available. We will begin with red beet and goat cheese tartlets, followed by oxtail soup with chicken liver dumplings and green onions. Our fish course tonight will be pinecone smoked trout with a peach gastrique, which is so representative of the flavors of Virginia. Tonight’s entrée will be roast rack of lamb with French lentil salad, roasted asparagus, and puréed eggplant. I’m told the dessert should remain a surprise. Enjoy your dinner.”
He nodded his head and was off to the kitchen.
Nina stuck out her tongue. “Who wants my soup? I’m never going to eat liver dumplings. I can’t think of anything more disgusting.”
“My grandmother used to make them and add them to a chicken broth,” I said. “They’re not bad at all.”
“Bleah.” Nina turned the corners of her mouth down. “The lamb sounds good, though.”
Francie elbowed me and nodded toward Gavin.
I turned to look at him. Seated next to his mother, Cindy, he held a book and read instead of joining the conversation at their table. But he raised his eyes every few seconds to gaze past us, probably watching his father and Kelsey. The fact that he wasn’t engaged with the other diners didn’t surprise me one bit. What I found interesting was that he tried to concentrate on a book instead of a phone or tablet.
The appetizer arrived quickly. I couldn’t recall having eaten beets and cheese together, but they were an interesting combination of sweet and salty. At our table we ate every last morsel.
The mood was light and cheery as a gentle breeze kicked up and the air finally began to cool. Bernie remarked on the number of empty dishes the waiters returned to the kitchen. The food was a success, even the liver dumplings, which we had fought over.
Before dessert, I excused myself and headed for the ladies’ room in the guesthouse, where I met Kelsey Haberman a second time.
She stood alone in the kitchen with her back to me.
