Tiffany, that was it. I don’t know why I had trouble remembering that, since she looked like a Tiffany. Her long blonde hair hung past her shoulders, and her green goddess eyes never left my son’s face. Nor did her arm release his. She clung tightly even as she greeted his parents and cousin.
Jody’s own eyes were Pembrooke-dark like my own, but they glowed almost as green as Tiffany’s as she beheld this beautiful younger woman. Dennis’s eyes were jumping out of his head as they always did when an attractive woman was present.
After introductions and greetings were over, my attempts to move Dennis and Jody along were unsuccessful. They weren’t budging and my other guests would be there any minute.
They were all talking away a mile a minute when Mitch said, “Dad, why don’t you stay for supper, too? You don’t mind, do you, Mom?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. Telling them there wasn’t enough food to go around wouldn’t do it. I had seen the mountains of dishes being prepared in the kitchen. I couldn’t come right out and say I didn’t want my ex-husband and boyfriend sitting down at the same table, could I? Mitch should have been more socially apt than to suggest it.
Before I could say anything at all, Mitch turned to Jody, who was pouting and trying to look left out. “You can stay too, Jody. The dining room table will seat two dozen people at least.”
I forced my teeth to separate. “Won’t Tracey be expecting you?” I asked Dennis. To Jody, I said, “What about your mother?”
Dennis waved his hand. “Tracey’s at her sister’s cottage for the weekend.”
Jody shook her head. “Oh, Mother isn’t expecting me back for hours yet.” With my son looking so happy and pleased, all I could do was smile with clenched jaw. “Fine. There’s more than enough room for everybody.”
And at that moment, the invited guests erupted onto the patio. Marc was striking in an emerald-green short-sleeved shirt and light tan pants. He was followed by his twin daughters, Eva and Cherie, and by Nick and Patsy, but I don’t remember what any of them were wearing.
Nor do I recall what anyone said to anyone else before we all filed into the drawing room for drinks. And not caring if Dennis thought it was because of his remark, I did shake my hair free of its ponytail.
CHAPTER 10
I had been kicked down a rabbit hole, and the Mad Hatter’s teatime guests had stayed on for dinner.
My seating arrangements were destroyed and we were breaking several rules of etiquette. I did manage to place Marc next to me on my left, but to accomplish this, I had to shove Jody to the far end of the table, where she made the best of it and was smiling up at Dennis. Somehow, Dennis had grabbed the other end of the table, which he doubtless thought was the head.
I was at the head of the table, let there be no misunderstanding. It was closest to the kitchen and that made it the head. Marc’s daughters, Eva and Cherie, sat next to him, then Jody. On my right were Patsy, Nick, Mitch, and then Mitch’s girlfriend. As I said, Dennis was at the other end, and he seemed quite happy between the two lovely ladies, Jody and the blonde. He believed he had the best seat in the house.
I thought that Caroline would cook, and I would be the one carrying food back and forth between the dining room and kitchen. However, both Caroline and Conklin carried dishes to the table, and offered them to the guests before placing them on the sideboard. Caroline looked flustered but pleased as she hurried in with the crown rib roast.
I had been a little concerned about the roast. Who would carve it? I wasn’t used to the job and would bungle it. Asking Dennis was out of the question, even if he hadn’t been a gate crasher. If I asked Marc, Mitch would be insulted. But Mitch had, to my knowledge, never handled anything sharper than a jackknife. See what I mean?
However, I should have known. As soon as the meat was placed on the table, elegant paper hats covering the ribs, Conklin stepped up with a long knife and fork. With the expertise of long practice, he cut the roast into pieces that fit nicely on the sides of our plates.
And since Conklin leaped ―knee joints twanging―to offer a dish again whenever someone finished a food group, all I had to do was sit there and eat. I lifted my hair away from my damp neck.
This dinner was supposed to enable Mitch to become better acquainted with Marc and his daughters. And so I could get to know Whosit, although I was hoping Mitch would break up with her before I had to. I just didn’t feel she was the woman for him. All that blonde hair and frosted fingernails had to be high maintenance.
So there we all sat, my invited guests and the two who would never be invited, even if there was nobody else left on earth. I looked toward the other end of the table. Judging by their expressions, my ex-husband and the Family Trollop were engaged in an interesting and highly private conversation. The blonde was clinging to Mitch’s right arm and he was eating with his left hand, which was odd, since he’s right-handed. With her hanging on a like a leech every time I saw them together, he was probably practicing to be ambidextrous.
Nick and Marc were talking across me about their golf date the next morning. Patsy was turning her salad over with a fork. She was allergic to radishes and suspected one might be lurking under the lettuce.
Eva stared at Mitch, who was having trouble with his jellied consommé, while Cherie seemed fascinated with Conklin, resplendent in his formal butler uniform. The fifteen-year-old twins were indistinguishable to many people, but I had no trouble telling them apart as long as they were looking at me.
Both were about five and a half feet tall, with long black hair and eyes as gray as their father’s. They were pretty young girls and were already sending Marc into frequent anxiety states over their upcoming dating years.
Neither girl was thrilled with my friendship with their father, but that didn’t put me off my food. These things take time, and since they spent the school year in Mississauga with their mother, I knew summers in Blackshore with their father were precious to them. They didn’t like Dad’s girlfriend hanging around. Cherie was polite enough, but Eva—short for Evangeline—scowled whenever she was obliged to speak to me. So really, it was easy to tell them apart.
With Cherie’s attention fixed on Conklin, I became acutely aware of him as well. He persisted in standing behind me with the gravy boat in his hand. Every once in a while, the boat rattled faintly against the stand. To get my mind off the hot liquid just waiting to cascade down my defenceless neck, I decided it was time to break up the clusters of conversation that were happening around the table.
I cleared my throat. “So Mitch, how is your summer job going?” Everyone stopped talking to listen to his answer. Mitch was working with a construction company in North Bay.
Mitch flushed slightly and gave me a look that said he was unhappy about being singled out for attention. “It’s okay. I’m working for another four weeks, then Tiff and I are going camping in Algonquin Park for a week.” Mitch was an avid camper and outdoorsman, which is surprising considering neither of his parents was fond of roughing it.
All eyes swivelled at “Tiff,” who continued to look composed and seemed to take the attention in stride. She didn’t release her stranglehold on Mitch’s arm, though.
I had to ask her. “Have you ever been camping before?”
“No, never. But I’m looking forward to getting away before school starts again. I’m working at a nursing home for the summer, you know. I’m studying gerontology and the job is part of a co-op work term.”
“There’s a lot of money in gemotology, isn’t there?” asked Jody. “But I can’t imagine those seniors having much jewellery in the nursing home. Unless they’re rich of course, but in that case, they wouldn’t be in a home.”
That stopped the conversation. Dennis seemed to be the first to pick up on what she was saying, making me wonder if they knew each other better than anyone suspected. He laughed and waved his empty wine glass at Conklin, who placed the gravy boat beside me and went to fill him up again. I grabbed the gravy and shoved it closer t
o the middle of the table, where people could help themselves.
Watching the ruby liquid as it ran from the bottle to his glass, Dennis said, “That’s gerontology, young lady. It means the study of elderly people, not gemology.”
Jody lost interest right away. “Oh. That can’t pay very much.”
Jody held a dual title—Family Trollop and Family Idiot.
I steered the conversation back to camping before we got into a philosophical discussion on the merits of money versus ideals. Mitch and Tiffany could carry on for hours on that subject, I knew for a fact. Mitch believed my job as an office manager was not beneficial to the universal community, and I have had to point out to him more than once that it had benefited him, enabling him to attend the University of Guelph, where he was studying engineering.
“Tiffany, it’s pretty primitive in Algonquin Park. Are you sure you want to go for a whole week? Maybe a weekend would be better to start with.”
I was thinking of my own trip to Algonquin with Dennis just after we were married. We planned on staying a week, but after four days of hell, we packed it in and came home. The details were burned into the memory stick of my brain—sleeping on uneven ground in a leaky tent, portaging over rocks and fallen trees, boiling water over a fire it took two hours to light because the matches were in my backpack. The backpack that got wet when I tipped over backwards and fell in a river we were trying to carry the canoe across. Oh, and eating dried packets of food I upchucked because I was pregnant, cowering in the tent waiting for the bear to finish eating our food, fending off the black flies whose bites raised lumps on every inch of my body…
Oh yes. I looked at Tiffany, at her long nails, the tumbled hair and clear skin.
I smiled at her. “On second thought, Tiffany, I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time, an experience you will remember forever.” I ignored the suspicious look Mitch threw my way.
Dennis jabbed his fork into the table, trying to recapture a baby potato that had rolled away from him, and gesturing with his free hand to Conklin, who refilled his wine glass once again. Even though I never drank alcohol, having an unfortunate allergy to the stuff, I had no objection to others enjoying the fruits of the vine or wheat field. Dennis enjoyed himself too freely. He always had, but that night he was swallowing wine by the gallon.
His face was flushed and I could see his coordination was already suffering as the potato eluded his fork and rolled down the middle of the table. He gave up on it and speared one from Jody’s plate. She giggled and slapped his hand. “Oh, you.”
When all eyes turned to her, Jody giggled again and licked a tiny bit of food off her fork, her pink tongue darting in and out. It sounds disgusting and believe me, it was, but the men seemed to be mesmerized. Dennis, Mitch, Nick and even Marc watched the little pink tongue. Then again, maybe I was selling them short. Maybe they were fascinated by the sight of the breasts that promised to bounce free of her skimpy halter top every time she moved.
I leaned across and whispered to Patsy, “Do you think Dennis is having an affair with Jody?”
“I don’t know about now,” she whispered back, “but they had one a few years back. Maybe they’re starting up again.”
I grabbed for her arm, but she pulled it away. “Are you saying they had an affair while we were still married? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Quit pinching me. I didn’t tell you because, well, Ann Landers always said to mind your own business. Anyway, I thought you already knew and didn’t want to talk about it.”
I turned my back on her and smiled at Marc. “I want to talk to you later. I have something to show you.”
He looked alarmed. “The last time you had something to show me, it turned out to be a body.”
“No body.” Thinking of the tiny figurine, I said, “Not a human body anyway.”
He didn’t appear reassured and I patted his knee under that table. He was so adorable. His gray eyes darkened, as they seemed to when whenever he felt a strong emotion, and at first, I thought he was running his hand up my calf.
No, it wasn’t Marc, not unless he was wearing a fur mitt. It had to be the cat. Now, there is nothing more pleasant than a soft cat rubbing against your bare skin, but animals do not belong under the dinner table, unless you don’t mind hair in your food.
Lifting up a corner of the white linen tablecloth, I addressed Rasputin and Jacqueline. I had no doubt she was under there as well. She had a nasty trick of grabbing an ankle with her tiny sharp teeth and hanging on until forcibly detached.
“Come out of there, you two. You will not be fed from the table. Please return to your own quarters at once.”
Dennis and Jody both started and reached for their wine glasses in unison.
First Rasputin, then Jacqueline, filed out and stalked from the room, making quite a show of it. The cat’s indignant tail arched over his back, giving us an awesome view of his backside, and his hair stood out, making him appear even larger than he was. Jacqueline was still shabby and seemed to know it. She didn’t try to bite anyone or even bark. She slunk after Rasputin.
“What a nice cat,” Eva said. “What’s his name and is he yours?”
I gave her the details, adding Rasputin’s stay was a temporary one and he would go back to live with Caroline’s grandmother at the end of the summer.
Dennis and Jody were pelting each other playfully with the paper rib hats. Dennis’s free hand was underneath the table again and I didn’t even want to think about what was going on down there. At least he wasn’t waving his glass at Conklin for a refill anymore, but Mitch looked uncomfortable at his father’s conduct and I didn’t know how to help him. This whole situation was beyond my control.
“Dennis,” I called down the length of the table. “You haven’t said anything about the new baby. When is it due? I saw Tracey downtown last week and she looks close to term.”
He pulled his hand out from under the table and gestured at Conklin. The poor guy trotted over once again, but this time, he poured a mere thimbleful of wine.
Dennis surveyed his glass gloomily. “She has three months left. She had an ultrasound last week, and it’s twins. Both girls.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I took a mouthful of Patsy’s wine without thinking. “Twins? Twins, did you say? Let’s see, that will make three babies under two, won’t it?” I gestured heavenward with Patsy’s glass. “There is a God.”
Patsy reclaimed her glass, but not before I had another swig to celebrate the imminent birth of Dennis’s twin offspring.
Jody spoke up, “Just think, Lyris. If you marry Marc, Mitch will have twin stepsisters and twin half sisters.”
That was a low blow. Marc and I were not engaged, and nobody even knew he had asked me to marry him. She was just being spiteful, hoping to embarrass us. I took a little sip of Marc’s wine.
Of course the idea of Marc and I joining hearts and households did not go over well with our children. They were all three scowling at us.
Caroline came in bearing a gateau—a piece of edible art. Six layers, cream filled, two inches of mocha frosting, nuts and fruit dribbling down the sides. What a treasure Caroline was turning out to be.
I was starved. I hadn’t eaten much of the main course. Conklin seemed to know this and gave me a double-sized slice. Once everyone was served, I dug in with my fork.
Jody waited until my mouth was full before mentioning, “Lyris, dear, if you keep eating like that, you’ll soon balloon up and look like Mother.” Since Aunt Bertilla was every bit as wide as she was high, and I could be deemed willowy on my heaviest day, that was a silly exaggeration.
My son immediately leaped to my defence. “Mom eats like a horse all the time and she never puts on any weight.”
“Thank you, dear.” I took a sip of Marc’s wine to wash down the cake. Then I took another, just because it tasted fine.
Patsy looked from Jody to me, anxious to help. “You know, you and Jody look a lot alike. I always thought there was a r
esemblance, but now that Jody is growing her hair longer, the likeness is striking.”
I looked down the table at Jody. “I’m taller”.
Jody smirked. “I’m younger.”
She had me there. I took another mouthful of Patsy’s wine.
“And you have smaller boobs, too,” Jody added for no good reason. She was such a bitch.
“Maybe, but I could buy myself a bigger pair if I wanted, same as you did. At least I don’t tip when I walk.”
Tiffany’s voice rang out. “I love the centerpiece. Are the flowers from your garden, Ms. Pembrooke? They’re lovely.”
The centerpiece had been created with my own two hands. I had used cobalt blue, white and pink hydrangeas with white and mauve alyssum. These were arranged in a low silver bowl with sprigs of tiny ferns I had found growing next to the fishpond in the shade garden. It was very simple, but anything showier would have detracted from the display of china, crystal and silver. Caroline had certainly convinced me she could handle the job.
“Thank you, Tiffany. And please call me Lyris.” I closed one eye, hoping that would stop me seeing two of everybody. And seeing two of some of those seated at the table was two too many.
“Lyris always made the house look nice,” said Dennis. “She was good at decorating and stuff like that. Not so good at cooking, though.” He must have caught my look. “And she was a good wife and mother too.”
Then why did he run around with every tramp in town? I looked at Jody. So Many Men, So Little Time was undoubtedly her motto.
“Harlot, thy name is Jody,” I muttered. Nobody heard that except Marc and Patsy. Marc moved his wine out of my reach and Patsy finished hers off in one swallow.
I knew the wine was affecting me. I didn’t break out in spots or any kind of allergic reaction like that. Alcohol just bypassed my blood and went straight to my brain, and even a drop would do it. I shouldn’t even smell the stuff. And everybody should make sure I didn’t. It wasn’t my fault.
Cheat the Hangman Page 10
