“But now that I’m a go-getting woman myself, do you find me more interesting?” asked Leah.
“I’ve always found you interesting,” he said honestly.
“More desirable?”
“I’ve always found you desirable too.”
“But not desirable enough.”
“Leah…”
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
“Trust you?”
“About everything.”
“I guess so.” He looked at her curiously.
“That’s good.” She took a sip of her water. “D’you mind if I make the announcement tonight?”
“You want to make an announcement?” He looked at her aghast. “A formal announcement?”
“Trust me,” she said.
She stood up. He looked at her. There was no question but that she looked at her absolute loveliest tonight. He was proud and pleased that she’d turned herself into a success. But no, he didn’t trust her.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “I have an announcement to make this evening. Nothing to do with our wonderful salon either. This time it’s personal.” Her hand slid across the table and closed over his. He looked straight ahead as she relaxed her hold and began to speak.
Chapter Thirty-Five
ORANGE BLOSSOM
A floral oil that has a sweet perfume with warm and rejuvenating results
It was entirely coincidental that Carey’s housewarming party (which she decided after all to have before going to the Dominican Republic) was on the same day as Leah’s official opening. She’d finally buckled under the pressure of her team’s constant nagging and then panicked because she didn’t know what sort of party she should have.
“One with lots of drink,” Gina told her. “And loads of sausages. That’s all you need.”
“I don’t know how much drink to get,” Carey wailed. “And I always burn sausages.”
“Most people will bring their own alcohol,” said Gina. “But I’ll go to the off-license with you and we can order in a few crates anyway. As for the sausages, girl, don’t you ever look at the shelves in the supermarket? You can buy ’em ready-cooked these days.”
Once she got over the initial worry, Carey enjoyed getting things ready. She ordered double the amount of drink that the guy in the off-license recommended because, she told him, she wasn’t dealing with normal people at her party. Everyone she knew had a vast capacity for free booze. Then she went to the supermarket with Gina and loaded her trolley with multiple packets of ready-cooked sausages as well as the vast number of variety party packs that enticed her too.
“I’ll see you later tonight,” Gina told her when they’d packed everything into the boot of the Audi. “And I’m really looking forward to it.”
So was Carey. She’d invited everyone from her team as well as some of her friends from other teams; she’d asked a group of girls from the gym which she sometimes went to and which reminded her, guiltily, that she hadn’t been for a workout in ages; and, of course, she’d asked Sylvia and her family too. She’d also asked Maude and Arthur if they wanted to come, but Maude had told her not to be stupid — that much and all as though she’d like to think she could hack it with the young free and single set, she really didn’t think that the housewarming would be her thing. Arthur’s either, she said. Besides which they were going to dinner in Malahide. But she called over in the afternoon with a bottle of champagne and a tray of canapés.
“You didn’t go to the trouble of making these for me!” said Carey in surprise as she took the tray.
“Dead right I didn’t,” retorted Maude. “I picked them up from the deli in Swords. What d’you take me for?”
Carey giggled. “I suppose I had a brief moment of thinking that you were turning into a kids’-book grandmother figure.”
“I’ve done that,” said Maude spiritedly. “When Sylvia’s were small, I fed them ice cream and jelly and allowed them to run riot in my house while Sylvia tried to keep hers looking nice.”
“I heard you were back to baking scones again,” said Carey. “That’s what made me wonder.”
“One morning,” Maude said. “Once, that’s all, for the fun of it. And who told you anyway?”
“Sylvia, when I rang her up about the party. We were just chatting and she told me that she’d seen you up to your armpits in flour.”
“Not something that’s really worthwhile doing now,” said Maude. “Not with just me and your father. But it was nice to do it again.”
“You hated it, didn’t you?”
“Hated it?”
“The domestic stuff.”
“Not really.” Maude shook her head. “I hated that people expected it of me. Even when I was doing something I enjoyed I resented it. I think I was missing a gene somewhere.”
“Me too,” said Carey. “I keep thinking that one day the cooking and cleaning thing will come out in me, but it hasn’t so far.”
Maude laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Look at this place. It’s like an ad for House and Home!”
“Only because I spent yesterday evening tidying up,” Carey informed her. “You should have seen it before then.”
“It looks great now,” said Maude comfortingly. “And I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time tonight.”
“I hope so,” said Carey. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“So’s Jeanne,” said Maude. “It’ll be the first time she’s been out since the episode.”
Carey frowned. “Has she broken it off with Gary? I haven’t been talking to Sylvia about it at all.”
“I think so,” said Maude. “And the poor little thing is stricken with remorse.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! It wasn’t that bad.” Carey rearranged some glasses on her sideboard. “There’s plenty of kids having an active sex-life at seventeen.”
“Maybe so,” agreed Maude, “but it depends on the circumstances. And Jeanne — despite the short skirts and the make-up and the rest of it — is still quite innocent.”
Carey didn’t want to tell her mother that the sight of Jeanne and Gary stretched out on the rug in her apartment hadn’t exactly been innocent, but she said nothing.
“I think she feels she can’t trust herself right now,” added Maude. “She blames it all on herself, you know.”
“That’s silly.”
“She was the one to take your keys,” Maude reminded her. “And that implies a degree of planning.”
“Spur-of-the-moment planning,” said Carey.
Maude laughed. “Poor Jeanne. I know it ended up OK, but Sylvia was frantic.”
“Of course she was,” said Carey. “To be honest I was pretty frantic myself. Part of me was convinced that Jeanne couldn’t possibly have come to any harm, but, well, you can never be sure, can you?”
“No.” Maude sighed and picked up the jacket she’d taken off earlier. “Anyway, I suppose they’ll all get over it.”
“I suppose so,” agreed Carey. “Have a great evening yourself tonight.”
“I will.” Maude kissed her on the cheek. “You too.”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Carey. “If there’s one thing I can do it’s party.”
She was a bit worried by nine o’clock though, when the only people to have arrived were Sylvia, John, and their family. It was the first time she’d seen her brother-in-law since Sylvia’s revelations about his affair. She found it hard to reconcile the man she’d always considered slightly dull with a bloke who’d had an office affair and almost ruined his marriage. He sat beside Sylvia, his arm draped casually across her shoulders, sharing a joke with her. Carey watched her sister laugh with him and lean towards him, and she felt a sudden surge of envy that Sylvia had managed to work it all out while she hadn’t. She wondered how hard Sylvia had found it. And, fleetingly, how hard it had been for John too. It was the first time she’d seen Jeanne, too, since finding her in the flat with Gary. Her niece looked stunning in a white top and pale pink ski
n-tight trousers cut low so that they showed off the silver ring in her belly-button, but she sat demurely in the corner of the room and sipped diet 7UP. Donny and Zac immediately laid into the food while Nadia walked round the apartment telling everyone that she really, really loved it and wanted to live somewhere exactly the same when she was older.
“Don’t you feel a bit cooped up, though?” asked John. “I’d miss being able to walk into the garden if I lived in an apartment.”
Carey shook her head and pointed out the window to where the city lights shimmered in the dusk. “How can I feel cooped up when I can see that?” she demanded. “Besides, I’m a bloody useless gardener.”
She got up and refreshed their glasses and prayed fervently that some of the others would arrive soon. She didn’t want this to be the kind of party where people sat around and had interesting conversations. She wanted everyone to have fun. She sighed with relief as the buzzer went and the CCTV showed that it was Gina, Rachel, Finola, and some of the other girls.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” muttered Donny to Zac as they swept into the apartment in a waft of perfume and chatter. “That one’s bloody gorgeous. And I don’t care if she is the same age as Carey. Sometimes those older ones can be better, you know.”
Finola, quite unaware of the effect she was having on Carey’s nephew, kissed her friend on both cheeks and handed over another bottle of champagne.
“It’s fabulous,” she declared as she sashayed across the room to look out the window. “Absolutely gorgeous, Carey. I hope you’re really happy here.”
“I already am.” Carey grinned and introduced the girls to Sylvia and John. Then, much to Donny’s disappointment, the male contingent of the team arrived, and soon the apartment was full of people who were laughing and joking and wishing Carey well.
“I’ve just managed to char the ready-cooked sausages,” she muttered to Gina as her friend walked by. “I’m utterly useless.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Gina told her. “You know these guys. They’ll eat anything.”
And they did. Carey enlisted the help of Donny, Zac, and Nadia, who circulated round the room with trays of party mix and cocktail sausages, and nobody refused anything on the basis that it was too well done.
“Is Peter going to be here?” asked Sylvia as Carey handed her another gin and tonic.
“I invited him,” said Carey, “so he’d better turn up.”
“Are you seriously dating him?”
Carey made a face. “We’ve gone out together, yes.”
“Do you love him?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Syl, give me a break. I’m not even divorced yet.”
“But —”
“I’m not going to discuss this with you.” Carey leaned towards the sideboard and grabbed a Smirnoff Ice. “This is a party, not an inquisition. Now go and do party things.”
Sylvia shrugged and moved away from her sister. Carey wandered over to the group of controllers, who were arguing about the latest plans to reconfigure the airspace over Dublin. “Guys, guys!” she admonished. “Shop talk. When you could be having fun.”
“Sad to say, some of us actually get our kicks talking about this sort of stuff,” said Chris. “By the way, did you see that they’re looking for more people to train as instructors?”
Carey nodded. “I’m not ready for that yet,” she told him. “I like what I’m doing too much.”
“Nice to work in Shannon though,” he mused. “Get out of the city for a while.”
“I love the city,” Carey said. “I love the noise and the crowds and the traffic jams…”
Chris laughed. “But the facility in Shannon is great though.”
“Oh sure.” Carey nodded in agreement. “But like I said, not for me. Not yet. Besides…” She dug him in the ribs. “I’ve just bought this place. I can’t start thinking of moving already!”
“Suppose not,” said Chris. “But you’d make a great instructor, Carey.”
“You think so?” She wrinkled up her brow. “I doubt that I have the patience.”
“Maybe not a couple of years ago,” agreed Chris. “But now.”
Carey smiled at him. “I still doubt it, but thanks for saying so. All the same, it’ll be a bit longer before you get rid of me.”
“I’d hate to lose you,” Chris said, “but I also want you to do well.”
“Thanks.” Carey was touched by his comments.
“Hey, Browne, quit with the deep discussions and come over here,” Finola called. “We’re discussing potential names for my unborn. What d’you think of Roxy?”
It was later in the evening and Carey was feeling pleasantly light-headed when Donny nudged her to say that there was someone at the door and would she let them in. Carey peered at the monitor for a few seconds before realizing that it was Peter. She pressed the button to unlock the entrance door.
“Wow!” he said when he stepped inside. “What a crowd.”
“It’s kind of expanded all right,” she agreed. “At nine o’clock there wasn’t a sinner except my sister and her crew, but suddenly there seems to be twice as many people as I expected.”
“Excellent party,” he told her. “Am I too late for the food?”
“You might have missed the burnt sausages,” she told him, “but I think there’s a few garlic mushrooms still lurking in the kitchen.”
She loaded a selection of food onto his plate and handed him a can of beer. Finola had found her Beatles No. 1 CD and the entire apartment was heaving to the beat of “Love Me Do.” Donny and Zac formed a conga line which snaked its way through the kitchen and out again while Carey and Peter squashed themselves against the worktops and promised to join in later. He put his arm round her and led her back into the living room, where they stood by the open balcony doors.
“Hope you invited the neighbors,” he observed as “Yellow Submarine” blared into the darkness.
“Actually yes,” she snuggled against him, suddenly chilled in the cooler night air. “But very fortunately the apartment below me is still unoccupied.”
“So when the floor collapses under the weight of all these people it won’t be a complete disaster,” said Peter.
“You’re so comforting.”
She watched the conga line, laughing as Gina fell off her extremely high-heeled shoes and lay panting on the floor. Donny chivalrously gave her a hand up and then blushed furiously as she kissed him on the lips. Just as well Steve isn’t here to see that, thought Carey in amusement. He’d think that Gina was getting it on with a sixteen-year-old boy! Especially since Donny had turned into a rather attractive sixteen-year-old boy. Carey hadn’t noticed it before because she never considered her nephew as someone who might be attractive to the opposite sex. Jeanne was an extremely pretty girl too. She groaned to herself. It was too, too depressing to think that her nieces and nephews were growing old enough to be attractive while she was still…well, still…
“You OK?” asked Peter.
She nodded. “Just thinking stupid things.”
“Like what?”
“Too stupid to mention,” she told him. “I think I’ll get another drink.” She was rummaging in the fridge for a beer when the phone rang. She tucked it under her chin while she popped open the bottle.
“Hi,” said Ben.
“Oh, hello.” She glanced round. Nobody was taking any notice of her. They’d started another conga line.
“I rang to — em — to ask if —”
“Whey-hey-hey-Browne!!!!” Gerry Ferguson waved at her as he conga-ed past.
“What the hell was that?” asked Ben.
“Party,” she said.
“Party?”
“My housewarming,” she told him.
“Oh.”
“I’d have invited you,” she giggled, “only the last party we were both at ended a bit dismally.”
“This one doesn’t sound at all dismal,” said Ben.
“No,” she told him. “It’s good fun act
ually.”
“Who’s there?” he asked.
“Everyone,” she replied.
“Right.”
“Was there a reason you called?” she asked after a moment’s silence.
“Oh — yes. Yes. Actually, I rang to say that I got that stuff about the divorce you sent me.” She’d received further papers from the lawyers and had posted them on to him.
“I’m still trying to book a flight,” she told him. “My travel agent said that if I waited for another week or so they’ll have some bargain flights.”
“You’re sure you want to go?” he asked.
Her heart lurched. “What d’you mean?”
“Well, if you don’t have the time or anything, I’ll still do it.”
“No,” she said. “That’s OK. I’ll do it.”
“Right then,” he said. “That’s sorted.”
“Was there anything else?” she asked. “Anything important?”
“What d’you mean?”
“It’s just that you’ve rung me at,” she glanced at her watch, “nearly midnight. People don’t usually ring other people at nearly midnight to discuss their divorce travel arrangements.”
“I thought it was as good a time as any,” he said. “Given the kind of hours you work.”
“Oh, right.”
“So, great,” said Ben. “You’re on top of things. Let me know when everything’s organized.”
She looked unseeingly into the crowd of people at her party. They’d all been at her wedding party. They didn’t know that they were at her divorce party too.
“Carey?” he said uncertainly. “Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“Are you OK?”
“Of course.”
“Well, look, have a fantastic party.”
“Thanks,” she said, and ended the call. She walked into the bathroom and locked the door. Her whole body was shaking. She leaned her head against the mirror of her elegant bathroom cabinet.
“Hey, Browne, you in there?”
She turned on the tap and began to splash water onto her face. “Yes,” she called. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” It was Finola who was outside. “I saw you go in there and you looked a bit frazzled.”
Too Good to Be True Page 45
