The Game of Denial

by Brenda Adcock

"Must have been those ten days of fresh air and clean living," Charmaine said with a shrug. "Thanks, by the way, for splitting without any prior warning and leaving us in an awkward lurch at Green Acres."

  "I explained why I had to leave prematurely. Something came up here and I needed to handle it as quickly as possible."

  "Yeah, I seem to vaguely remember some bullshit similar to that totally tall tale."

  Joan leaned back in her chair and glared at her daughter. "Are you calling me a liar?"

  Charmaine set her coffee mug on the table in front of her. "I haven't decided yet, but am leaning that way." She paused before continuing. "I've never seen anyone quite as unhappy looking as Mrs. Chase when I returned alone and told her that story." Charmaine held her hand out to forestall any explanation by Joan. "It wasn't just you, of course. Her daughter left shortly after I returned so she could rest up before going to her Florence Nightingale gig in Richmond. The only thing that saved the day was Uncle Gerard and his friend. Mrs. Chase and Uncle Gerard spent most of the afternoon working with some horse with a problem. Meg was a total bitch and locked herself in her room until we left. The Munchkins whined and cried most of the day."

  Joan cleared her throat and took a drink of her already cold coffee. "Doesn't sound like I missed much then. I had an excellent undisturbed night's sleep for the first time in days."

  Charmaine reached out and shoved the digital camera across the desk. Joan caught it before it sailed off the edge. "What's this?" she asked.

  "It's the photographs Meg took while we were there and during the wedding. She said you asked her to take informal family pictures and asked me to bring it in."

  "I don't have time to look at them now," Joan said, setting the camera carefully on the desk and pushing it toward Charmaine.

  "Take it home and look at them at your leisure," Charmaine said. She raised her eyes to look at Joan. "There are some pretty interesting shots of you and Mrs. Chase." Charmaine paused for a minute and sipped her coffee.

  "Is that all, Charmaine? I have work to do before the deadline for the next ad campaign."

  Charmaine noticed Joan's eyes drift to the camera on her desk.

  She leaned back and tried to relax. "I was just thinking how gracious it was of Mrs. Chase to open her home to a group of total strangers," Charmaine said. "I don't know how she did all of that and still continued to take care of the horses, cook, and find the time to play with Morgana and Mitchell. Way beyond anything I would ever attempt."

  Joan squirmed a little in her chair and swiveled it around to refill her coffee cup.

  "And you have to see the picture of her at the wedding. She couldn't have chosen a more attractive dress. It suited her body and complexion so well."

  "I was there, Charmaine," Joan replied with a slightly annoyed bite in voice. "Don't you have work to do instead of prattling on about nothing? If not, I can certainly find some for you."

  Charmaine finished her coffee. "I just thought I'd spend a little quality time chatting before I dove into the paperwork on my desk," she said. She stood and walked across the office, stopping with her hand on the doorknob to look at Joan. "I never realized what a coward you are, Mother," she said.

  "What the hell are you talking about now, Charmaine?" Joan asked, her eyebrows knitting into a frown.

  "A blind man could see how you looked at Evey Chase."

  "And how was that?"

  "You obviously wanted to be with her. You liked her and I think it went even deeper. You wanted her."

  "That's ridiculous," Joan said, trying to remain calm. "I simply appreciated everything she was doing to make Fran's wedding a memorable event."

  "I've never seen you look at anyone like that, except Mama. It was kind of nice to see that look again. Unfortunately, you chose to run away rather than explore your feelings." Charmaine lowered her voice. "Mama's gone and you need to get on with your life."

  "Get out, Charmaine," Joan ordered, her face flushed with anger, "before I forget I'm your mother and fire your ass. I don't need your advice on how I should live."

  AS SOON AS her office door closed, Joan leaned back in her leather chair and shut her eyes, breathing deeply to calm down. Had her steadily growing attraction to Evey Chase really been so obvious? She could picture Evey's smiling face, hear the sound of her laughter, smell the subtle scent of her perfume, recall the feel of her skin and the softness of her lips. Joan shook her head in an attempt to shed the memories of the time she had stayed at the farm. She dragged a stack of papers in front of her and began reading them. Nearly fifteen minutes later she was still staring at the same page and couldn't recall anything she'd read. She removed her reading glasses and tossed them onto the stack. She rubbed her eyes. She hadn't slept as well as she'd told Charmaine and her eyelids felt like sandpaper. She saw Meg's digital camera resting on the desk. When she reached for it, her hand shook and she balled her fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching them several times. With the mocking camera finally in her hands, she pressed the power button and waited for the first image to appear. She quickly flipped through dozens of pictures chronicling her family's stay at Meadowbrook Farm. Joan hadn't realized Meg had taken so many photographs over the course of their visit. She stopped when she came to a photograph of her in conversation with Evey. She barely remembered that day. Evey was squinting up at Joan as she spoke. Joan was shocked at how intently she was looking at Evey, as if she were drinking in every word.

  Joan smiled at a picture of her escorting Fran down the aisle. She would want a copy of that one for her office. Fran was so beautiful in Martine's gown. It was a perfect picture with Joan looking down at Fran lovingly as they walked. Joan brought the viewer closer to her face and, in the background, saw Evey watching them as they moved down the aisle. The expression on Evey's face seemed almost...enamored. Meg took a number of pictures during the reception. Joan laughed at the one taken while she was dancing with Luella. Her mother looked elegant in her dress and Joan caught a glimpse of the woman Luella had been when she was younger. Joan pressed the button to advance to the next picture and nearly dropped the camera. In the frame, she held Evey in her arms as they danced. She held her closer than she remembered, her eyes locked on Evey's. She saw, and remembered, Evey's hand resting on her shoulder, her index finger stroking the back of her neck. The memory of the kiss between them not long afterward still made Joan's stomach clench with longing.

  Joan quickly pressed the power button and turned the camera off. She set the camera down and pushed it away as she felt the burning in her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and fought off the tears. She needed to erase Evey Chase from her mind. She flipped through the Rolodex on her desk and paused when she found the phone number she was searching for.

  Chapter Nineteen

  JOAN USED THE tips of her well-manicured short nails to sweep her sandy blonde hair across her forehead as she stepped from the back of her company limousine and adjusted the floor-length sheath dress that covered her body. She was surprised at how comfortably it still fit. She hadn't worn it in years. The top half of the dress was charcoal gray and gradually blended into the silver lower half. The material shimmered and sparkled under the entry lights of the upscale apartment complex. A split beginning at the hem extended to just above her knee, showing off a slender expanse of leg.

  "Do I look all right, Lou?" she asked her driver as she smoothed down the front of the dress.

  "I've never seen you look better, Mrs. C," Louise Marshall answered.

  Joan strode confidently to the entry and paused as a doorman tipped his hat and greeted her. "Welcome to the Sheffield Arms, ma'am," he said as he opened the front door.

  "Thank you," Joan acknowledged with a genuine smile.

  She crossed the front lobby and entered the elevator, clearing her throat slightly as she pushed the button for the tenth floor. She leaned against the back wall and took a deep breath. What was I thinking? she asked herself. She hadn't been surprised when Monica Ashford a
ccepted her invitation to a charity event that included an evening of dinner and dancing. The truth was Joan needed to get away from her home. Since Fran's wedding a month earlier, her home had begun to feel empty and oppressive. She couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed a night out. She still occasionally went to lunch with an old friend, but while those times were pleasant, there had been no joy in them. And she was desperate to find a way to drive Evey Chase out of her mind. To forget the soft hair that fell to just above her collar and twinkling hazel eyes that opened into her soul. Joan had seen the world through the reflection of those intriguing eyes. Stop it! she told herself with a frown.

  When the elevator stopped Joan pushed away from the wall and twisted her neck from side to side in an attempt to relax her muscles. How bad can it possibly be? Monica is a beautiful woman and I should feel proud to be seen with her. Right?

  Joan proceeded down the thickly carpeted corridor and tapped on the door of 10-B. She stepped back and waited. Monica's maid opened the door and stood back to allow Joan to enter the beautifully appointed home.

  "Make yourself comfortable, ma'am. Ms. Ashford will be ready in a moment," the maid said. "May I get you something to drink?"

  "No, thank you. I'm fine."

  Joan used the time before Monica joined her to take in the view through the balcony window. The lights of the city below were incredible.

  "That view can't possibly compare to the one in front of me now," Monica's voice said.

  Joan turned and cleared her throat again. "I didn't hear you come in," she said. "You look lovely, Monica."

  Shoulder-length, deep auburn hair fell in casual ringlets around Monica's face and Joan hadn't realized before what a calm green the woman's eyes were. Her soft eye shadow drew out the color. Nearly as tall as Joan, Monica's choice of apparel highlighted every tempting curve of her body. The dramatic plunging neckline offered a hint of cleavage that made Joan's mouth go dry. "Shall we?" she finally said.

  "I place myself completely in your hands for the evening," Monica said.

  Joan placed her hand lightly in the small of Monica's back as they walked to the apartment door. Monica stood in a position that forced Joan to lean around her to open it. Joan smiled at Monica as her breasts brushed against Monica's upper arm.

  "Have you recovered from the wedding yet?" Monica asked as the elevator descended to the lobby.

  "I think so," Joan answered.

  "Have you heard from Fran?"

  "She and Brad are flying home over the weekend."

  Joan took Monica's hand and assisted her into the back of the limousine. Monica gazed at Joan as she settled into the seat across from her, her eyes making a slow journey down her body.

  Joan smiled at her. "That's a beautiful gown," she said.

  "I'm glad you like it," Monica said. "I have to admit I was surprised when you invited me to accompany you tonight."

  "Why? I enjoy your company."

  "You were a little...brusque at the wedding."

  "We were all more than a little stressed. My mother and brother arrived the day before you. I hadn't seen them in a long time and my relationship with my mother has always been strained. I apologize for my behavior and hope you will accept it."

  Monica chuckled. "I would forgive you for anything, Joan. You know that."

  The car pulled to the curb in front of the exhibition hall where the event was being held. Lou opened the back door. Joan stepped out and offered her hand to Monica. Monica took it and continued to hold it as they made their way into the venue. Joan paused a few times to shake hands with friends or hug others. After each stop Monica sought out Joan's hand again. Joan stopped at the entrance to the main room and handed her invitation to the man at the door to the dining area.

  "Mrs. Joan Carmichael and guest," the man told a young woman standing with him at the entry and then looked back approvingly at Joan. "Emma will show you to your seats," he said with a bow of his head before he turned his attention to the next guests.

  Joan rested her hand lightly along Monica's waist as they followed the young woman. A row back from the dance floor Emma stopped and swept her hand to their seats. Joan thanked her and held a chair as Monica sat. Once Monica seemed settled, Joan rested her hand on the redhead's shoulder, squeezed lightly, and leaned down.

  "Would you care for a drink before dinner?" she asked.

  "A Cosmopolitan, please," Monica answered.

  "I'll be back in a moment," Joan said as she turned toward the bar which had been set up on the far side of the room.

  Monica and Joan chatted with one another and the others at their table throughout dinner. Following two or three brief speeches extolling the good work performed by the charity sponsoring the event, a small group of tuxedo-clad musicians set up and began playing. After the first song, Joan leaned toward Monica and asked, "Would you care to dance?"

  "I would."

  Joan slid her chair back slightly and held Monica's as she stood. She placed her hand in Joan's and they made their way to the dance floor. Joan took Monica in her arms and stepped into the dance. After their first turn around the floor, Joan pressed more firmly into Monica's back, drawing her closer. She smiled affably at the woman in her arms and Monica rested her arm on Joan's shoulder and slid her fingers to her neckline, stroking the short hair along Joan's neck as they both relaxed into the strains of the music.

  Joan held Monica close and felt the movement of her body against her own. The last time she had danced was at Fran's wedding. She closed her eyes and remembered the arousal that unexpectedly overwhelmed her as she held Evey in her arms. The strength of her feeling had made her run away from the temptation moving easily against her. Despite her beauty, Monica's presence had not brought forth the same response.

  At the end of their third dance, Joan asked, "Would you mind if we left a little early?"

  Monica looked at Joan with surprise. "Tired?"

  Joan looked into Monica's eyes and smiled. "No," she answered.

  Monica picked up her evening clutch and took Joan's hand as she gave their regrets to the others at their table. Joan pressed her hand on Monica's upper back and let it move down to encircle her waist as they left the ballroom.

  "Are you all right?" Monica asked as they waited for Lou at the curb.

  "I'm fine."

  Joan waved Lou off as she started to get out and leaned down to open the back door of the limousine, taking Monica's hand to assist her inside. They held hands during the drive and Joan watched the lights of the city as Lou guided the vehicle back to Monica's apartment building. Joan knew she should say something, but her mind was a jumble of thoughts that she struggled to put in some logical order. She glanced at Monica who seemed content and leaned her head back against the car seat.

  "Would you like to come up for a nightcap?" Monica asked, breaking the silence. She turned her head to look at Joan. "It's still early."

  "I'd like that," Joan said. Was it finally time to end her long, self-enforced grieving period, she wondered. And was Monica the woman to end it with?

  Lou winked at Joan as she helped Monica from the vehicle. Joan smiled and gave her driver an almost imperceptible nod.

  "It was a lovely evening, Joan," Monica commented as they reached her floor and made their way down the corridor. She handed Joan her key and waited as she slid it into the lock.

  "Yes, it was," Joan said as she held the door for Monica to enter. She placed the key on a small entry table and followed Monica into the main living area.

  Monica dropped her clutch on a table near the couch and turned to face Joan. She brought her hand up and cupped it against Joan's cheek. She stepped closer, her eyes searching Joan's face, and brought their lips together, encountering no resistance. Joan's hands rose to Monica's hips as she moved closer, slowly deepening the kiss, increasing the contact she had wanted for so long. Joan stepped into her and buried her fingers in Monica's luscious auburn hair.

  "I need you," Joan said as she took
Monica into her arms and embraced her tightly.

  Monica's hand drifted down Joan's back and lightly caressed her buttocks, pressing their hips more closely together.

  "I've waited for you so long," Monica said as Joan kissed down the side of her face and along her neck.

  Monica gasped as Joan touched the fullness of her breasts, teasing her nipples until they hardened and threatened to burst through the clothing that bound them. She moaned when Joan slowly lowered the zipper of her gown and allowed her hand to linger against Monica's hot skin.

  "We...we should find someplace more comfortable," Monica breathed as her eyes met Joan's.

  "Do you have someplace special in mind?" Joan whispered with a smile that would have made Casanova proud. She moved to stand behind Monica as her tongue tortured Monica's ear.

  "Anyplace horizontal and soft," Monica answered, leaning her head to the side to allow Joan's lips greater access.

  Joan laughed lightly, running her hand down Monica's back and kissing the exposed skin. One hand slid forward to gently pull Monica's body against her as the other caressed her full breast. "I need to feel you so much," Joan said. Monica was so beautiful, so sexy, and it had been so damn long.

  Joan was becoming lost as desire flooded her mind when Monica took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped away. She turned to face Joan, brought her hand up, and let it come to a rest on Joan's chest. "I think I really need that nightcap," she said.

  "Now?" Joan asked incredulously as she tried to calm the throb that had begun building inside her body.

  "Better now than before it's too late," Monica answered.

  "I thought this was what you wanted," Joan said, a confused look on her face.

  "Oh, it is," Monica answered. "It most certainly is. I've dreamed about it for years."

  "Then I don't understand."

  Monica removed the crystal top from a decanter on the bar and poured two drinks. She carried one to Joan before moving to her balcony window. She took a long drink.