The Night the Lights Went Out

by Karen White

  All the furniture in the room had been removed and the doors to the large patio opened to double the size of the already-huge room, tall heaters placed liberally around the patio to make sure nobody got chilled. Round tables, elegantly set with china, sterling, and crystal, had been set up both outdoors and indoors, table numbers written in gold gilt perched at the top of centerpieces made of fluffy cotton bolls and magnolia leaves spray-painted gold. Auction paddles were placed strategically above each place setting for the live-auction portion of the evening.

  Pushed against the perimeter of the room were smaller tables with the silent auction items Merilee had worked so hard to procure, including the diamond tennis bracelet donated by her employer. She was happy to see several people already milling about, placing bids on the lined forms. As soon as she’d found Dan, she’d go check on the bids to see how they were progressing and determine if she needed to encourage the waitstaff to be more liberal with the wine and cocktails that were currently being hawked on silver trays by butlers clad in white tails and ties.

  Outside in the backyard, a white tent—its front designed to resemble the columned antebellum Greek Revival mansion of the movie, Tara—had been set up to house the band and the dance floor for the postauction entertainment.

  Merilee headed toward where she remembered the stairs leading down were, assuming that was her best bet to take her to the wine cellar, but stopped when she became aware again that she held something in her hand. Opening her palm carefully, she found herself looking at the gorgeous pearl ring Dan had purchased for Heather for their anniversary.

  It was as beautiful as she remembered, so exquisite. She wondered if Heather had liked it. Merilee opened her evening purse, but it barely fit her large phone, lipstick, and keys, and she was afraid if she shoved in the ring she might scratch it or damage it in some way.

  She remembered how well it had fit at the store and, after just a brief hesitation, placed it on her finger. She allowed herself a moment to admire it, to wiggle her fingers to catch the light from the chandelier above, then went to find Dan. As she neared the top of the staircase leading down, she noticed several women coming out of a pair of double doors through which she could see a large bed and coats strewn on top of it. Unclasping the hooks at her neck, Merilee took off the stole and headed through the doors, smiling at the women as she passed them, aware as she did of how they immediately stopped talking.

  A waitress was walking by with a silver tray of champagne flutes, and Merilee quickly took one and drained it as she walked into the bedroom. She tossed the stole on the bench at the foot of the bed and turned around to leave, but stopped for a moment, noticing her surroundings.

  It was undoubtedly the master bedroom, the size of it about the same size as the cottage she lived in with her two children. On an end table sat a framed wedding photo of Dan and Heather, looking like a toothpaste commercial. They were standing on what appeared to be the front steps of a large home, enormous fluted columns directly behind them, two massive mahogany-stained doors standing out from behind the happy couple, with an elaborate fan window adorning the top and matching sidelights along the sides.

  Merilee stared at the photo, something about it vaguely familiar. Had they been married nearby? Because she was sure she recognized those doors and columns. It wouldn’t surprise her if she drove by the house every day and didn’t notice it. She was always so busy going over her to-do lists in her head that she sometimes ended up in the parking lot at work with no idea how she’d gotten there.

  She peered through an archway to what looked to be a sitting room with a rounded wall of windows, a gas fireplace in the middle. Oil portraits of both girls, painted when they were around three or four, were hung above the mantel, a smaller photograph of the entire family sitting in a frame on a small table next to a chaise longue. The Blackfords were almost a cliché of the perfect family, of two beautiful people who fell in love and had two beautiful children and then started an empire.

  Merilee was glad her mother didn’t know Heather, or about this party or this house or any of it. Because then she’d be comparing Merilee’s life with Heather’s and finding her daughter’s lacking. Deanne wouldn’t notice how far Merilee had come since the divorce, or how she didn’t cry herself to sleep anymore. Because none of that mattered to Deanne.

  She backed out of the room and found another waitress with champagne flutes, and replaced hers with a full one before heading down the back stairs. The basement level was similar to the one in the Blackfords’ Sweet Apple house, with a wrought-iron railing on the open stairs leading downward. But these were spiral and more narrow, and Merilee was wearing four-inch heels and a gown that reached just below her ankles, not to mention having already downed a glass of champagne. Recalling Heather’s advice, she bent down and unbuckled her shoes before slipping them off and leaving them in a corner of the top step. Gripping the railing tightly with one hand and clutching her champagne flute in the other, she proceeded to walk down the stairs without incident.

  A dark shape bounded toward her from down the long and wide corridor, startling her for a moment until she recognized the Blackfords’ dog. “Puddles,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t jump on her dress or make her spill her champagne. Just in case, she quickly finished the glass and placed it on a step behind her. “Hey, boy,” she said, leaning forward to scratch behind his ears. “Where’s your daddy?”

  “In here,” called Dan from somewhere down the hallway.

  She began walking, noticing the theater room on one side, a game room with pool table and bar on the other, an exercise room with sauna tucked in between, and then, finally, an opened glass door with the stale scent of old cigar smoke coming from it. She poked her head inside and spotted Dan, his tuxedo jacket hanging from the back of the wooden chair he sat in.

  He half rose when he spotted her. “Have a seat,” he said, indicating the chair across the small table. An opened bottle of Glenfiddich sat in the middle, a half-empty glass sitting in front of him. “I came down to grab a few more bottles of wine for Heather, and I got distracted.” He grinned. “This was Heather’s anniversary gift. A ten-thousand-dollar bottle of scotch. Only the best for our Heather.” He raised the glass and took a long sip. “Want to try some?”

  “I, uh, don’t usually drink scotch.”

  “But this isn’t an ordinary scotch, Merilee. This is a ten-thousand-dollar bottle of scotch. If I could think clearly, I’d calculate how much each sip is worth and then I bet you’d be impressed. Have a seat.”

  She hesitated, knowing Heather was expecting her to bring Dan back to the receiving line right away. But there was something so forlorn in his expression, so lost and lonely, and so in need of companionship, that she decided to sit, if only for a few moments.

  He stood quickly and walked behind the bar to retrieve another glass. “On the rocks?” he asked, placing two cubes from a freezer behind the bar into the glass without waiting for her answer. Sliding back into his seat, he poured three fingers’ worth into the glass and placed it in front of her.

  “Slainte,” he said, raising his glass.

  “Slainte,” she repeated, clinking her glass against his. She meant to take a small sip, but the ice cubes shifted and she swallowed more than she’d intended, making her cough.

  He smiled at her. “Don’t spit it out or I’ll fine you.”

  She laughed and took another sip to make him feel better, even though she was pretty sure she could drink a glass of Drano and not be able to tell the difference. She shivered in the damp coolness of the room, missing her stole, mothball scent and all. Dan stood and placed his tuxedo jacket over her shoulders before reclaiming his seat.

  He noticed the ring on her finger as she placed it around her glass. “Did Heather give it to you?”

  “No, of course not. She said it was too big for her—which surprises me because Gayla at the store said she’d checked Heath
er’s file for her ring size before she wrapped it—but Heather said she was afraid she’d lose it. So she gave it to me to hang on to until she had a moment to put it somewhere safe.” She began sliding it off her finger. “Here, why don’t you take it . . .”

  Dan held up his hand. “No. You should hang on to it. If Heather asked you to do something, you’d better not disobey.”

  She looked at him, not sure if he was joking or not, then slid the ring back on.

  “Did she love it?” she asked.

  Half of his mouth lifted. “I’m not sure. Probably not. She never likes anything I pick out for her. I tried to tell her why I’d selected it, but she was too busy making sure the flowers in the tall pots on the dock were just right. I probably should have waited until tomorrow.”

  Dan stared into his glass, moving it from side to side to watch the colors change in the light, reminding Merilee of the fabric of her dress. “Did you know our chef used to work at the French Laundry in Napa? I can’t tell you what Heather did to entice her to come work for us, but nothing would surprise me. One of the chef’s jobs is to oversee the menu at Windwood—did you know that? I wonder how many schools have a French Laundry chef planning their menus.”

  His words were slurring and she wondered how much he’d had to drink. As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Heather gave this to me earlier this afternoon because she probably knew I’d be needing it. She said I should hide it in the wine cellar so I wouldn’t be expected to share.” He grinned his boyish grin, and Merilee felt younger, somehow. Like they’d both been swept back in time to when they were young and nothing mattered except winning the next football game and sitting with your best friends in the lunchroom. But then his face sobered and he sat up straighter, and the moment passed.

  “It’s not that I’m antisocial or that I dislike any of those people upstairs. It’s just . . .” He stopped for a moment before continuing. “It’s just that I work hard all week, and when I’m done with work, I want to spend my downtime with my wife and kids. And dog.” He looked down at Puddles and scratched him behind two velvety black ears. The dog reciprocated the look of adoration as he tilted his face toward Dan. “I love quiet time with my family, playing cards or fishing. Or just . . . nothing. Enjoying each other’s company. Yet every moment of downtime is scheduled to the hilt. I can barely catch my breath.”

  He pressed his forehead against the table. “I’m sorry. I’m really not complaining—I know I have a wonderful life. Surrounded by a terrific family and good friends. I’m just . . . tired. It’s been a very long week.” He looked up and smiled grimly at her. “I suppose I should go back upstairs.”

  “Yeah, we probably both should,” Merilee agreed. She reached across the table and took his hand, trying to communicate that she understood his desperation probably better than most. “Whenever I’m faced with doing something I don’t want to do, I always tell myself that I can survive anything for a couple of hours or however long it’s supposed to take. Just think—this will all be over within a few hours, and your Glenfiddich will be waiting for you here, right where you left it.”

  He nodded, his lips pressed together in grim determination. “You’re a very smart woman, Merilee. Just like Heather. Except . . .” He stopped, then looked guiltily at her.

  “Except what?”

  “Except you have a level of compassion. And sweetness. Heather used to have it, too, but she seems to have lost it along the way. It seems the more she has, the more she wants. And she won’t be satisfied with less than perfect. That’s a very hard ideal for a man to live up to. I sometimes find myself thinking that Heather wishes she’d married Wade after all.” He leaned closer, and she could smell the scotch on his breath. “You’d be happy with all this, wouldn’t you? You’d be happy with me.”

  Before Merilee could answer, he’d touched his lips to hers. There was no passion, no lust, nothing except loneliness and a shot in the dark, and it seemed to Merilee that they both realized it at the same time. They drew back simultaneously, each flushing and stammering out words that did nothing to erase the awkwardness or embarrassment of what had just happened.

  “Daniel?”

  They both turned toward the doorway at the sound of a woman’s voice, while Puddles lay sleeping at Dan’s feet and didn’t even lift his head. Merilee had no idea how long she’d been standing there, but judging by the look on her face, probably long enough to have seen Dan kiss her. Merilee recognized the woman but couldn’t recall her name, most probably because she was seeing her in an evening gown, with styled hair, not in a ponytail or tucked into a tennis visor. She was out of context here in the Blackfords’ wine cellar, which was why Merilee couldn’t come up with a name. But the woman had no problem recalling Merilee’s.

  “Hello, Daniel. Merilee,” the brunette said, her gaze taking in the held hands and the two mostly empty glasses of scotch. “Heather sent me down here to look for Daniel. He’s MIA, apparently. Looks like I hit pay dirt.”

  Liz. The woman’s name was Liz and she’d been on the decorating committee and was Heather’s tennis doubles partner. As if scripted, Daniel and Merilee unclasped their hands, belatedly realizing what it must look like to an outsider.

  “Liz,” Merilee said. “I love your dress.” She hadn’t even noticed the dress. She was just eager to start a casual conversation that had nothing to do with explanations that didn’t really need to be made.

  “Thanks. Yours is stunning. Heather’s been talking about it for weeks now—saying she’d better watch out since you’d be irresistible in it.” Her smile faltered as she glanced nervously at Dan. “You’d both better hurry. I think everyone’s here and Heather’s about to give her welcome speech.” She turned to Merilee. “She’ll probably want Merilee to do some whetting of appetites for some of those auction items.”

  “Of course,” Merilee said, standing and handing Dan’s jacket back to him, avoiding his eyes. “Time sort of got away from us, I’m afraid. My date must think I’ve deserted him.” She bent to look under the table, then under her chair.

  “Can I help you find something?” Dan asked.

  “My shoes. I remember taking them off, but I don’t remember exactly where I put them.”

  Liz raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Merilee didn’t know her very well, but she could only imagine how this would play out in the retelling, especially in light of the Tybee Island incident. “I haven’t seen them,” she said. “But there’s a tub of flip-flops out on the back patio for the dancing later on. You could put on a pair until your shoes show up.”

  Dan grabbed several bottles of wine from one of the racks on the wall, then followed the women out of the room and up the stairs, the sound of people talking growing louder and louder as they left the hushed and carpeted atmosphere of the basement. Merilee couldn’t help but wonder if Dan felt the compelling pull to return to the peace and quiet as much as she did.

  • • •

  Merilee couldn’t find her shoes. She thought she remembered putting them on the steps, but they weren’t there when she climbed up from the basement to rejoin the party. Liz sent one of the waitresses to pull a pair of flip-flops from the barrel for Merilee to wear until she could locate her own shoes. Wade seemed relieved for the reprieve when she found him, Heather’s hand on his arm as they stood speaking with a table full of partygoers. She seemed almost disappointed to relinquish Wade and slip her arm into Dan’s.

  Wade pulled Merilee away, back toward the long green drapes. “You look shorter,” he said.

  “I can’t find my shoes.” Merilee pulled back the hem of her skirt to show off her flip-flops. “I sure hope someone finds them—they cost more than my monthly rent.” At his expression, she said, “Don’t judge. I have never done that before nor will I ever do it again. I’ll blame it on Heather’s influence.”

  “Understood,” he said, and then, without warning, leaned down and k
issed her. It was brief, and soft, but the electricity generated could have powered a small house. And so completely different from what she’d felt when Dan had pressed his lips against hers.

  “Wow. What was that for?”

  He shrugged. “Because I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks now, and I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

  She licked her lips, wanting to taste him again, and the light changed in his eyes. “Just so you know, I didn’t mind. And I wouldn’t mind you doing it again.”

  “Merilee?” They both turned to see Heather walking toward them. “It’s time to get started. Wade, go ahead and sit at the first table. You’re seated directly on my right. They’re about to start serving the first course.”

  Wade sent Merilee a knowing smile as he moved away to sit down, and she felt warm despite the cool air blowing in from the open doors behind her.

  The rest of the evening was fueled by more champagne and wine, a lively auction with dizzying amounts of money being exchanged for luxury items to benefit the school, and the anticipation of what might happen later. Merilee refused to think too much about it. Maybe that had been her problem all along—planning everything, worrying about each step she had to make as a single mother with all the responsibilities suddenly on her shoulders. It was freeing, and wonderful, and made her look forward to something for the first time in a very long while.

  As she hit the gavel for the last time—after announcing the winner of a year’s worth of tuition—she was feeling like finally all was right in her world. The dinner and auction had been a success, and she was eager to celebrate all the hard work she’d shared with these women. She passed Lindi and her husband on the way down to the backyard, where the band had already begun to play under the tent and several couples were twirling on the dance floor.

  “Great job,” said Lindi. “And awesome earrings, by the way. I was noticing them from the back of the room. You didn’t even need my necklace.”