Talk of the Town

by Sherrill Bodine

  Tim took a stab at looking stern. “Yes. Yes, he is. And brilliantly. Reader response was favorable to your Sunday recipe column. You will be happy to know he has authorized judicious use of your gossip notes.”

  Blood rushed to her head, making her feel giddy. I can’t let him see what this means to me. As always, she tried to heed what her granny always said about people only knowing what she was feeling if she let them.

  Rebecca shrugged as if this meant nothing instead of everything. “Of course he liked the column. We knew he would.” She glanced at Kate, hoping she’d play along, and she returned the look with absolute serenity.

  “Yes, I thought he would be pleased,” Kate said briskly. “This morning, advertising informed me Rebecca’s column is already generating new income for the Home and Food section. One of the paper’s bigger clients, LuLu’s at the Belle Kay, ordered all its ads to be enlarged and placed directly under Rebecca’s recipe column on Wednesdays and Sundays. The revenue from that account has now doubled.”

  Tim winked. “I told you David Sumner’s a brilliant businessman. But don’t push it, Rebecca. Judicious use of those gossip notes,” he warned again before strolling away.

  “You were fabulous!” Rebecca gushed, in awe of how well Kate had played along. She should have known any woman who kept her bottle of Prozac next to her Pulitzer had to be unflappable.

  Kate leaned forward across the desk and grinned up at her. For the first time Rebecca noticed a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. “You look shocked. No one here knows, but I’m a killer poker player. I plan to tell people we’re revolutionizing the Home and Food section, as well.”

  Embarrassed, Rebecca groaned. “You know about the stories I was spinning all along Oak Street. But I was serious about taking you shopping.”

  The mischief faded from Kate’s eyes. “I think not at my present weight. It’s time to get back down to business. I do agree a conventional recipe for Wednesday would be best. Keep them wanting more.”

  A thousand delicious ideas were dancing through Rebecca’s head. There was one fabulous gossipy note she was dying to use while the fire of rebellion against David Sumner was still blazing hot. For Kate’s sake, she’d rein in some of her giddy enthusiasm.

  “I promise. But to celebrate, I buy us lunch tomorrow and then we stop at LuLu’s to thank Laurie for those huge ads. You’ll love the store. The decor is wonderful. You should do a story on it for our revolutionized Home and Food section.”

  Her poker face on once again, Kate nodded. “All right, but no shopping.”

  Barely containing her glee, Rebecca slipped around the ridiculously shoddy partition of the cubicle and slid onto her incredibly uncomfortable swivel chair.

  The wisp of sadness about weight had been impossible to miss in Kate’s voice and in her eyes. Rebecca had read that mood-altering medication could cause weight gain. It was time for Rebecca to call a temporary cease-fire in her war with David Sumner and keep her vow to help Kate with fashion choices. She picked up the phone to tell Laurie they were coming for a makeover. Tomorrow there would be shopping for Kate. She deserved some fun.

  The next day Kate followed Rebecca into LuLu’s at the Belle Kay, advertised in the Daily Mail as Chicago’s most extraordinary store of vintage clothing and accoutrements.

  They fought their way through the door, past customers leaving, arms full of fabulous finds. Women stood three deep at the register to purchase one-of-a-kind vintage treasures.

  Kate pushed her glasses high on her nose to study the enormous gilt-edged mirror and the oriental rugs partially covering the patina of the old wood floor. She ran her fingertips over an antique chest displaying vintage costume jewelry. “Very tasteful. You’re right, Rebecca. There is an article here for the Home section.”

  Thrilled at Kate’s reaction, Rebecca urged her farther into the store.

  Finally free of other customers, Laurie glanced up and saw them. She swept around the desk. “Rebecca, how nice to see you. This must be your friend.” She smiled toward Kate, giving her the once-over.

  Without a doubt Laurie was already at work to make sure Kate would leave here with some treasure. Rebecca felt warm with gratitude. “Darling, we just had to thank you personally for your support.”

  Laurie’s shrug was a grand gesture that flipped her straight black ponytail over her shoulder, making her gold hoop earrings swing provocatively and showing off her wrist full of gold bangles and the big oval ring set in pavé diamonds on her expressive hand. “You know me; I’m all about business. Why wouldn’t I move to your new section? Everyone will be reading your recipe column to see what you do. Besides, you’re a brilliant writer.”

  All at once Laurie swayed backward, studying Rebecca the way Kate had the decor. “Normally I don’t do suits, but I’ve found the most extraordinary one with your name on it. You’re going to die when you see it! Absolutely no one will have anything like it. It would be perfect for a date with that gorgeous guy I saw you with at Gibson’s. Or better yet, for Dayson Cottington’s Handbag and Halo luncheon on Friday.”

  Rebecca tried to surreptitiously signal Laurie to get on with Kate’s makeover, but she ignored the frantic gesture. She turned toward one of the beautiful built-in closets without doors that lined the walls.

  Trying to buy time, Rebecca looked at Kate, who had suspicion in her eyes. “The luncheon Friday is a fund-raiser Dayson does for the Howard Brown Health Center.”

  “I know. I read about it in your column,” Kate said quietly.

  Of course this year Shannon would be writing about it instead of Rebecca, so there was no professional reason for her to attend. But she wanted to go, as she’d done for years. Would it make Shannon uncomfortable if Rebecca showed up?

  Rebecca jumped when Laurie twirled back to them, a black broadtail suit in one hand and a black crepe dress in the other.

  “I have this beautiful dress from the forties for you to wear, Kate. Very simple. Very elegant,” Laurie raved. “In those days the dresses were cut to make a woman’s body look phenomenal. Classic and chic. You can slip this on, while Rebecca tries on the suit.”

  Kate appeared slightly dazed. With clothes and accessories, Laurie was a force of nature.

  Kate shook her head and perched on the edge of the cream settee in the middle of the room. “No, thank you. I’ll wait while Rebecca tries on the suit.”

  “No, Kate, I don’t want to keep you waiting while I try on clothes.” Rebecca looked pleadingly at Laurie for help.

  “Go!” Laurie demanded. “I’ll show Kate some accessories while she’s waiting for you.”

  Behind the heavy rich brown velvet curtain, Rebecca slipped off her clothes and carefully put on the black broadtail suit. She peeped out to make sure Laurie was still at work.

  She was holding up a beautiful vintage rhinestone brooch and earrings to the crepe dress. Kate’s face lit up with interest.

  Laurie’s right again. If Kate feels too heavy to buy new clothes, she can always accessorize.

  Unable to stall a moment longer, Rebecca stepped out to stand before the gilt mirror.

  Laurie gasped. “Your body looks amazing in that!” She expertly pushed the collar up to frame Rebecca’s face. “There! Wear your pearls. Black heels. Carry one of your fabulous Nancy Gonzales bags in some color that will pop the outfit.”

  She’d had absolutely no plans to shop today, but she had to admit the way the jacket nipped in at the waist and the skirt slid over her hips made her look sexy but still chic.

  Good battle gear for Friday.

  She met Kate’s approving eyes in the mirror. “What are you buying?”

  “The beautiful rhinestone brooch and earrings. They are signed Eisenberg Original pieces.”

  “Good. Then I’ll take this suit.”

  “It will be fabulous for Friday’s luncheon,” Laurie declared.

  In the mirror Rebecca saw a flash of concern sharpen Kate’s features. “It is a beautiful suit for any occasion,”
Kate agreed and stood to pull a credit card out of her shapeless jacket pocket. “Now we need to pay and get back to work.”

  Rebecca changed as quickly as she could, still eavesdropping as Laurie urged Kate to reconsider the forties dress.

  It was perfect for the Allen’s opening in a few weeks. Rebecca fully intended to drag Kate to it, regardless of protests. Kate was entirely too serious. She needed to smile more.

  Rebecca would tackle that problem after she confronted Kate’s obvious concern about Dayson’s party. She knew why Kate looked so worried, but she’d reassure her. Rebecca had no intention of interfering with Shannon doing her new job. Well, maybe just the tiniest bit, but she vowed not to embarrass either one of them.

  Just as Rebecca stepped out of the dressing room, she saw Kate reverently stroking the black crepe dress Laurie still held out. “You’re right. It is quality fabric and workmanship.” Kate sighed. “Perhaps some other time.”

  Encouraged, Rebecca scribbled a note for Laurie to hold the dress before she paid her bill.

  In the cab Rebecca was painfully aware of the prolonged silence between them and Kate’s fixed stare straight ahead. Obviously Rebecca needed to level with her immediately.

  “Kate, I know you’re concerned about my attending the Handbag and Halo luncheon on Friday, but you don’t need to be. I always receive a personal invitation plus the press invite.” Did Rebecca hear a shadow of defiance in her own voice? She tried to soften it. “People would think it odd if I didn’t attend, since I’ve supported the charity for years.”

  At last Kate turned, a searching expression on her face. “If you are attending Dayson Cottington’s benefit because you believe in the charity and wish to personally support it, then I agree, you should go. But I can’t help believing your real motive is to prove your worth to David Sumner so he will be forced to admit he made a mistake in choosing Shannon over you.”

  Rebecca shifted in her seat, wanting to avoid Kate’s unflinching eyes, but her pride wouldn’t let her. She knew clever, tough Kate had pierced her facade in a vulnerable spot.

  David Sumner had rejected Rebecca because he thought she was too old and stale to do her job, and it hurt no matter how she spun it. She refused to accept this rejection without a damn good fight.

  She respected Kate so much, she wanted to be completely honest. “I know my motives are flawed. I know I might not be playing this hand the way you believe I should. But you should know I’ll do whatever it takes to get my identity back.”

  “Your identity isn’t gone, Rebecca. Only your job as Chicago’s most notorious gossip columnist. They are not the same,” Kate warned.

  Afraid, Rebecca did look away. Her facade was so thin Kate might see the truth.

  You’re wrong, Kate. For years, even before Peter discarded me, my job was my identity, the armor I put on every day. I need it back to feel safe.

  Chapter 6

  Strolling into the Empire Room of the Palmer House on Friday, Rebecca hoped she looked more confident than she felt. Even with the gorgeous suit, and her good pearls from her granny, and a red Nancy Gonzalez bag that was the most beautiful one she owned, Rebecca didn’t have her usual feeling of well-being when she knew she looked good.

  This was her first party in fifteen years as a guest instead of a source of publicity. Just Rebecca, with no perks. How would people treat her? Would they be dismissive, like Jessica at Très Treat? Or supportive, like Simone at Luca Luca?

  She’d thought about nothing else but Kate’s words for the last few days. Of course Rebecca wanted to attend this party for charity. Just as the invitation requested, she had brought a beautiful collectable Judith Leiber bag to donate to the Howard Brown resale shop. But there was another reason, one that kept her up at night. Certainly she recognized her behavior was reckless, but she needed to show David Sumner that she would not give up her identity and would do whatever it took to get it back, with as little bloodletting as possible.

  Just inside the wide double doors of the ballroom, Dayson, as always splendidly dressed from head to toe in Ralph Lauren, waited to greet his guests. “Rebecca, hi. Love your suit!” Usual air kisses. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  It was shocking how relieved she felt at his exuberant greeting.

  Normal. No need to worry I’ve been forgotten already.

  His cherub cheeks growing slightly rosier, he blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure where you’re seated this year.”

  Feeling like she had in high school when she’d been one of five friends not invited to the biggest and best graduation party, she forced a laugh. “Darling, put me anywhere.”

  “We would love to have Rebecca at our table,” Lynda Silver offered in her strong, cultured voice.

  Saved!

  Rebecca turned to smile at Lynda, who looked impossibly chic from her platinum hair to her impeccable brown Chanel suit and matching slingbacks. No, wait. The shoes were actually Dolce & Gabbana and perfectly accented the suit, instead of being an exact match. Très chic.

  Dayson’s smile widened. “Lynda, hi. That’s wonderful. Have fun, ladies!” He rushed off to greet three of his swans, Dolly, Mamie, and Hazel, who were waiting politely in the doorway.

  “The Service Club of Chicago has put together a table, but if you’d rather sit with the press?” Lynda inquired politely.

  “Thank you. I adore the Service Club ladies. Lead on.” Rebecca followed her across the crowded room to a table for ten already half-full.

  Before they reached it, Shannon loomed in front of them, with Chuck, the Daily Mail photographer, hovering behind her. Shannon’s narrowed eyes and tight lips screamed that there was going to be a scene. Now that she knew how bitchy Shannon could be, the idea of verbal combat with her sent a little shiver along Rebecca’s skin.

  “What are you doing here, Rebecca?” If Shannon could have spoken and hissed in the same breath, Rebecca felt sure she would have. Instead it came out a sputtering croak of rage.

  “I was invited as a contributor to this charity.” Rebecca smiled, her vaunted self-control kicking in. She would behave well and channel Shannon’s nastiness into some good. “I know you stopped us because you want a picture of the Service Club ladies. It is one of the oldest and finest charities in the city. And with no paid staff!” In truth, these ladies who lunch actually did do all the hard work themselves, and they deserved some publicity.

  Chuck, obviously relieved to have something to do besides listen to his colleagues snipe at each other, immediately started posing the six women staring expectantly toward them.

  Unblinking, Shannon continued to glare. Rebecca glared right back, but of course with more finesse, as she was older and wiser.

  God forbid we start tearing out each other’s hair at Dayson’s party!

  Thinking of Kate, Rebecca vowed to be especially conciliatory. “Relax, Shannon. I’m only here to support a worthy cause. Please don’t wor—”

  “Don’t you dare write a word about this event!” Shannon interrupted her. “It’s my job now, and don’t you ever forget it.”

  A flurry of excitement in the doorway made Shannon turn. “Quick, Chuck!” she yelled. “Nadia’s here. She’s back from the Paris couture shows. I want her picture.”

  Shannon shoved past Rebecca, stomping on one of her new Manolos and sending a sharp pain through her foot.

  Refusing to acknowledge the burning ache in her toes and trying not to limp, Rebecca seated herself at the Service Club table. All the women were watching Nadia strike several perfect model poses. Dark chocolate hair swirling around her shoulders and her exotic eyes smoldering, she played to Chuck’s camera.

  “She’s wearing Yves Saint-Laurent straight from the runway,” Lynda whispered. “I heard she bought the entire collection.”

  On Rebecca’s right, Evie, a tiny former opera star, sighed. “Look at that waistline.”

  In unison all the women at the table pushed away their bread plates. Except Lynda. “I refuse to sto
p eating. I’ll exercise tomorrow.” She took one bite of roll and glanced over at Rebecca. “I prepared the soup recipe from your hilarious column for our alumni group. It was quite good.”

  Her toes and dignity ached from Shannon’s footprint. She needed this compliment. “Thank you. I’m glad you liked it.”

  “You know, the Indiana University alumni group is still eager to honor you as a distinguished alumna.” Lynda raised her perfectly arched brows. “Perhaps this is a good time to finally allow them to do so.”

  The implication that her bruised ego could use some stroking was not lost on Rebecca. But the reason she had always declined this honor hadn’t changed.

  “I’m not sure this is the right time,” she demurred, still fearful of that skeleton in her closet. But it was tempting to wallow in the memories of those halcyon years at IU.

  In those carefree days she could eat two helpings of a decadent dessert like the chocolate soufflé she had planned for Sunday’s column and not worry about carb bloat. In those days she had truly believed the world was hers for the taking. She could have it all.

  That was before Peter proved her parents’ desertion was not a fluke. She was easy to forget.

  She wrapped her arms around her shoulders to protect herself from that particular life lesson. She needed to focus on the good years. Why not? She was very good at rationalization. It had been decades ago. Old news. Silly news, actually. Although at the time, her lie had been deadly serious. She’d needed to put a roof over her head and eat. Did IU even have computer files in those days? No one had ever bothered to look. Kate might have folded on this hand, but Rebecca felt reckless and she bluffed.

  “On second thought, Lynda, I’d be delighted to accept the honor this year. Please call the paper on Monday and let me know the details.”

  Lynda smiled like she was sharing a secret. “Wise decision. You know, we’re all in this together.”

  During the luncheon, Rebecca began to understand that Lynda’s words were a call to arms for “women of a certain age.” They approached Rebecca in droves, eager to offer their support, yet no one under forty came near her. In the old days, meaning two weeks ago, before evil Monday, Rebecca would have been surrounded by everyone eager to have their pictures and names in her column.