by Cheri Allan
Valerie jumped up from the floor. “You’re not actually going, are you?” she said. “I mean, come on, it’s Beth Beacon.”
Dan shrugged. “You wanted to play. I’m playing.”
Val looked around, flicked her bangs off her forehead. “Fine. Just don’t go catching any herpes cold sores or anything.”
Carter frowned. As if Valerie with her mongo hickey should be questioning where Beth had ever been. He looked to Dan.
In typical jock fashion, Dan was puffing up his chest. “Don’t you worry. I’ll make sure she enjoys herself.”
The other guys snickered and hooted.
Carter turned back to the door. Morons.
Dan laughed and caught up with him in the hallway. “Hey, Carter! Which door is it?”
They were alone. The door to the kitchen had shut again. The Whitmeyers’ back hallway looked like the set of Alice in Wonderland with black and white tile floors and doors up the wazoo. Carter looked toward the back door where the rain fell in sheets off the eaves. He gestured with the tip of the cigarette to the pantry and decided he didn’t feel like standing in the rain. He pulled out a lighter, lit up and took a few deep drags.
Dan chuckled and flexed his fingers as if preparing to play the piano or something. He wiggled his eyebrow at Carter and grinned. “Wanna watch?”
Carter coughed, cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”
Dan nudged him with his elbow. “Is that why you’re standing out here? Hoping to watch? Learn a few things from the master?”
“I just came for a smoke, man. That’s all.”
Dan laughed and pulled a Chapstick out of his pocket. He smeared it over his lips.
The beer from earlier churned in Carter’s gut. Maybe he’d go outside after all.
Dan shrugged. “I’m game if you want to.” He gestured toward the pantry and leaned closer. “I’ll bet little Beth in there will like it, too. She’s all into learning, that one. What do you say we give her an education she won’t forget?”
Carter blew out a long, measured breath, the menthol of the cigarette cool in his throat.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
Dan shrugged again. Smacked his lips. “I would have thought you were more adventurous than that what with your Rebel-Without-a-Clue jacket and all.” He laughed again, a low chuckle. “My mistake.”
Carter dropped his cigarette and wordlessly ground it out with his heel as Dan reached for the pantry door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
____________________
“THANK YOU ALL for coming tonight!” Valerie beamed from the podium. She wasn’t exactly behind the podium, Liz noted somewhat cattily, more lounging against it, no doubt to allow the audience a fuller appreciation of the designer knock-off column dress she wore. Liz watched as Valerie slid one leg out the side slit of her dress in a feat that seemed to defy gravity considering how far she had to lean the opposite way to maintain verticality. “It was getting a little warm in here with all these hot bodies, so I had the management crank up the A/C,” she cooed, fanning herself with a wine menu she’d snatched off a table and smiling silkily at the men in the audience.
Truthfully, Liz was stunned at the turn-out. Nearly half their class was probably in attendance, which just proved that either her class hadn’t made it far in life and were still milling about Sugar Falls, NH, or there were more of them scared of Valerie than just her and Carter.
“It just so happens we have none other than our valedictorian—Beth Beacon—here tonight, so let’s give her a hand and invite her up to tell us what she’s been up to these past ten years!”
Liz blanched and swallowed her bite of dinner roll as half-hearted applause filled the room. “I don’t think anyone’s that—”
“Oh, Beth, don’t be shy!” Valerie crooned, eyeing her like the wicked witch she was. “We’re all old friends here, aren’t we? And if our valedictorian doesn’t have anything to crow about, we’re in sorry shape, aren’t we? Come on!”
Liz pushed back her chair and nodded to her classmates as she stepped up to the microphone.
“Hello, everyone,” she smiled, her eyes skidding over the crowd. Carter caught her eye and thrust his chest out, presumably to remind her not to slouch. Liz pushed her shoulders back slightly and nodded as he gave a thumbs-up.
“So, you want to know what I’ve been up to,” Liz said, hating Valerie for putting her on the spot like this. No doubt it was the vile woman’s way of trying to make Liz look like a fool.
Valerie wanted a few words? Fine. Liz could handle this. She turned a warm smile toward her former classmates. “Well, I think you’ll find the life of a valedictorian isn’t so different from anyone else’s.
“Like many of you, I went to college, earned my degree and found a job. Or two. The first one doesn’t really count, I don’t think, because the interns were making almost as much as I was, if you know what I mean.” Some small chuckles from the audience encouraged her.
“I’m sure many of you have married and started families. I, on the other hand, have had eight cats, which isn’t the same, I know. Except one cheated on me with the family next door who lured it away with luncheon meats, so maybe some of you can relate to that. I hope not!”
“Oh!” Valerie interrupted. “Even her cat left her! Oh, Beth, that’s so sad!”
“It was a terrible shock,” she said dryly, “but I’ve recovered. Anyway, it’s good to see you all again. I know the alumni committee has worked hard to put together a great evening for us, so I won’t keep you from it. Have a terrific night, everyone.” She waved and stepped from the podium.
“Hold on,” Carter strode toward her.
“For those of you who might not recognize him, may I welcome the man voted Mostly Likely to Smuggle a Keg to Graduation, Carter McIntyre!” Valerie cooed into the microphone as Carter body-blocked Liz in the aisle.
“Where are you going?” he demanded under his breath.
“Back to my table,” Liz said.
But Carter grabbed her elbow and pulled her toward the podium again. He leaned toward the microphone. “Liz glossed over a few things, so I’ll take the liberty of filling in the blanks.”
“Carter? What are you—?”
“First of all, did you know she graduated from Stanford with high honors? That’s where she earned her master’s. Now she’s Assistant Vice President of Ames & Reed Consulting, one of the most respected business consulting firms in the Midwest.”
“Carter, please,” Liz murmured uneasily.
“Not only has she volunteered at the local animal shelter for years—which explains all the cats she’s rescued, rehabbed and found homes for—she also organized a collaboration between area businesses and the local Homes for All chapter, which earned her a key to the city.”
Liz stared at Carter. She’d only been making small talk the other night. Catching up. But now that he repeated it, it sounded so boastful. “It wasn’t actually a key to the city,” she corrected, leaning toward the microphone herself. “Just a letter of appreciation from the mayor’s office. Really, not a big deal.”
“Well,” Valerie choked into the silence. “Maybe we need to nominate Beth to sainthood.”
“She goes—” Carter began.
“—by Liz now,” finished Liz. “And technically, you can’t be sainted until your dead.”
Valerie’s wilting look said that could be arranged. “Well,” she said, “enough reminiscing. We have a short video presentation by Kat Dailey and Rich Emerson, our former yearbook editors, giving us a trip down memory lane, and after that, our cover band, My Generation, will be playing until midnight. They’re taking requests, so stick around! Ready, Kat?”
Liz pulled away from Carter’s grip and strode right past their table toward the bar. She intended to order something tall, fruity and alcoholic. Carter appeared at her side. She refused to look at him. “How could you?” she hissed.
“How could I what? You were painting yourself like some
drop-out with a weird cat thing going on instead of what and who you really are.”
She gave her order to the bartender and then half-turned to him. “Weird cat thing? I’d rather that than have everyone think I’m some uppity saint wannabe. I’ve fought all my life to be something other than Brainy Beth Beacon, and just when I get people seeing me as a regular, normal person you have to go and screw it up!”
“Screw it...? Now wait a minute… You’re mad?”
“Damn straight, I’m mad!” she yelled under her breath. “You couldn’t have made me—”
“Hey, Liz? I’d love to talk to you about that Homes for All collaboration you set up. How long are you in town?”
Liz turned and smiled tautly at Dan O’Connell—easier done now that her dress wasn’t flapping in the breeze. “A couple weeks maybe.”
“Think you could fill in as a guest speaker at our next Rotary meeting? We’d love to have you.”
“Oh! That’s… that’s very flattering.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and ignored Carter’s glower. “I suppose I could put something together. Give me a call.” She scribbled her number on a napkin and handed it to Dan. “We’ll see if our schedules mesh out.”
“I’ll let Kat Emerson know. She books our speakers.” Dan smiled as he pocketed the napkin, and Liz felt the full force of his all-American good looks as if she were ten years younger. “Maybe we could get together first, you know, to talk it over, just the two of us? There’s a great new Indian place on South Main.”
“Oh. I’d enjoy that. I love Indian food.”
“I’ll call you.”
“I look forward to it.” Liz paid for her drink as Dan sauntered away.
“Christ, Liz, you think you could at least wait until I was out of the room?”
“What?” Liz spun around to find Carter glaring at her, his green eyes like a stormy sea.
“You just agreed to a date with Dan right in front of me!”
“That wasn’t a date. He just wanted to talk about the thing—”
“Just the two of you? It was a date. Something I thought we were on. My mistake.”
“You thought we—? Carter, wait!” Liz found herself scrambling after him as he strode toward the exit. “He caught me by surprise!”
“So your first response was ‘yes’? Funny, every time I catch you by surprise you say ‘no.’ Or recommend therapy. I guess I know why now. I’m no Dan O’Connell. Never was. How ironic. Well, enjoy, Liz. I’m out of here.”
“You can’t leave! You’re my ride!”
Carter’s eyes raked her body. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to give you a lift.”
Liz stared at his retreating back and fought against angry tears. She’d tried not to believe tonight was anything other than a fun trip down memory lane, but who was she kidding? She hadn’t bothered worrying about her zipper earlier, because a part of her had imagined the new Liz would be brave enough to ask Carter to do the unzipping. And now he was walking out the door?
“You guys hoping to liven the party up?”
“What?” Liz turned to Dan. It wasn’t fair to blame him, but he had caused all this to happen.
“Carter. I saw him leave…”
“We had a disagreement.” Liz blew out a breath and walked back to the bar. Her drink was sitting there with its frilly umbrella like a girl dressed up for a date and left behind. She knew just how it felt.
“Sorry to hear that.” Dan was so close now she could smell his cologne, feel the heat of his body. But rather than appealing, he just felt... hot... next to her.
“What were you arguing about, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Ironically, you,” she muttered against her straw.
“Me?”
“He seemed to think you asked me out on a date.”
“I did ask you out on a date.” Dan’s lips tilted with confident sensuality.
“Oh.” Liz could only stare. Daniel J. O’Connell, the heartthrob of Sugar Falls High had asked her out? Why did that not excite her the way she’d always imagined it would?
“For the valedictorian of our class, you’re a bit slow on the uptake aren’t you?” he chuckled.
“I’m only in town a couple of weeks. Why would you want to go on a date?”
“Maybe I like what I see.” Dan’s eyes slid to her chest, and Liz fought the urge to hunch her shoulders. He looked up again. “So tell me, is your brother in town?”
Liz shook her head. “I don’t know. We’re not that close. Why?”
“Just curious. He always enjoyed a good party.” Dan swiped on his cell phone, stared at it a moment then shoved it in his pocket. “Never mind. Say, I’m gonna go mingle. You hanging around here for a while?”
“Seems so.”
“Great. Keep my seat warm.”
Liz gagged on her straw and wondered how the night could get worse.
Just then her phone rang in her clutch. She pulled it out. Perfect.
“Grant!” She knew her voice was falsely bright, but she wasn’t feeling herself. She took a long draw on her straw and let the ice-cold rum-soaked fruit juices numb her tongue.
“Liz, I...” There was a pause and Liz smiled tautly to some classmates hurrying by on the way to the video presentation. “Where are you?”
“Oh. Right. Funny that. Believe it or not, I’m at my class reunion.” She took another long sip and stopped because she was on the verge of brain freeze. “Long story.”
“I thought you hated high school.”
“Very true. Very true. Yet here I am.” She bobbed her straw in her drink. “I got cornered at the local grocery store by Valerie Stinson, chair of the organizing committee. Couldn’t say ‘no.’”
“Stinson? Isn’t she the snotty bimbo you said hated you for no reason?”
Liz caught sight of the bimbo in question and nodded. “Yup. One and the same.”
“Why didn’t you just blow her off?”
“It’s a small town. People talk. Besides, I didn’t hate everyone.” Until now, she thought irritably, remembering her non-ride home.
“What do you care what people think? You’re only there for a few days.”
Good point.
“Anyway,” Grant continued, “I sent you a few more files to run some numbers on. You think you could handle it for me?”
“Sure,” Liz agreed absently, wishing, yet again, she were smart like Bailey who routinely blew these events off. Oh, well. A shame Mandy hadn’t come back. It would have been fun to catch up with her. Or Eileen.
Liz sighed and realized belatedly Grant was still talking. “The end of the week is fine. I sent everything I have so far...”
“I’m sorry,” Liz interrupted, “poor connection. Are you passing off this project entirely?”
“It shouldn’t take more than a day or two—”
“But, Grant, I have work to do here! What’s the rush? I didn’t think they needed this until June.”
“Ethan wants it done before… before the end of the month.”
Liz stared into the distance and shook her head. Was no one reasonable anymore?
“You know what?” Grant said. “Never mind. It’s clear you’re busy. I’m sorry I asked. I had hoped you’d be willing to help—”
Liz rubbed her temples. “I am. I am. I…” She let out a cleansing breath. “When I get home, I’ll look it over and see what I can do, okay? I’ve just had a less than fun evening so far. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“Sure. We’ll talk later.” There was a pause. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“I hope your evening improves.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
Liz tucked her phone back in her clutch and sucked on her straw as she watched the video presentation from the bar. It was the predictable collage of “candid” snapshots from senior year set to an unpleasant medley of all the songs she associated with awkward high school dances.
Shoving her half-finished cocktail aside, she st
ood up. Even if she had to walk the whole way, she promised herself sulkily, she was going home.
Five self-sorry steps from the bar, Dan reappeared at her side.
“Leaving? How about I give you a ride?”
“Oh, I couldn’t trouble—”
“Really. No trouble. Turns out I need to head out myself.”
Liz let out a breath. “Thank you. I could use a ride.” She started toward the rear door.
“Oh, I’m not out back.” Dan took her elbow and propelled her toward the side exit. Only then did she notice he looked somewhat peculiar.
“Dan?” She paused, lightly touching the sleeve of his jacket. “Are you feeling okay? You look a bit flushed.”
“Me? I’m fine. Just a little hot in there. I could use some air is all. But I am in a bit of a hurry.”
“Sure. Of course.” Liz pushed open the door.
“Stop! Police! Put your hands in the air where we can see them!”
“Ohmigod!” Liz squeaked as an officer rushed forward. “What’s going—Dan?” She gaped as an officer pulled at the corner of what appeared to be a plastic baggy of confectioner’s sugar hanging out of Dan’s coat pocket. “What—?”
“Your purse, Miss?” A second officer held a hand out for Liz’s clutch.
“My purse?”
“May I see your purse, please?” Liz stared wide-eyed as the other officer handcuffed Dan and began to read him his Miranda Rights.
“Oh, really, there’s nothing...”
Liz noticed a small crowd gathering behind two flashing squad cars as the officer took her clutch from her fingers. He looked familiar and she tried to recall where she’d seen him before, but then she remembered what was inside her clutch.
“No!” she cried, lunging for the bag. “Please don’t!”
And, with sickening awareness, as if it all had become slow motion, Liz watched her bra slide from her purse and hang merrily from the officer’s fingertips as the flash of a camera burst before her eyes.
Trish was right. Reunions were hell.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
____________________
“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”
