a start, though, wouldn’t you agree?” Damian said over his shoulder. “A good start, at that.” He left her then before she could say anything more.
Jessica was upset, and it wasn’t until she got home that she figured out why. Damian hadn’t invited her to the party out of any real desire for her company. He’d assumed that Evan hadn’t asked her—and he was looking for an opportunity to throw her and his brother together socially.
Jessica arrived at her parents’ house early Saturday afternoon, after spending all morning shopping for the perfect outfit. Cathy had come along to offer encouragement and advice.
She might not be attending the barbecue with Damian, but when she showed up looking like a movie star, he’d wish she was. This was her mission, plain and simple.
Evan had casually mentioned the country-and-western band, but he’d also said the barbecue was in honor of an artist. These somewhat contradictory snippets of information served to confuse her about how to dress. Nothing in her closet seemed suitable, but then little in the shops did, either.
In one outfit she resembled Annie Oakley, and in another Jackie Kennedy. There didn’t seem to be much of a middle ground—until she found a long denim skirt, a red shirt decorated with white fringe sewn about the yoke and white cowboy boots. A white silk scarf tied around her neck lent a touch of elegance.
Her mother’s eyes widened with approval when Jessica modeled the outfit. “I wish now I’d gone shopping, too, and bought something new myself. You look great.”
“Thanks.” Her mother’s praise gave Jessica confidence. Cathy, who tended to dress like a character in a sci-fi movie, had also said she looked great, but Jessica didn’t really trust her friend’s fashion sense.
“It was so sweet of Evan to include you,” Joyce Kellerman went on to say. “Not that I’m surprised, his being your boss and all. Life is certainly full of little twists and turns, isn’t it?
“It sure is,” Jessica said without elaborating.
“I’m thrilled that you’re working with Evan.”
“He’s a nice person.”
“He’s wonderful. It’s always been my dream—I know it’s silly, but well, we’re such good friends with the Drydens … I’ve always hoped you’d grow up to marry one of Lois’s boys.”
“Whatever you do,” Jessica said quickly, “don’t say that in front of Damian or Evan.”
“Why not, dear?”
“Mom, it’d embarrass me to death!”
“But you were so keen on Evan a few years back, and I thought … I hoped …”
“Mother, I was only fourteen!” Her old infatuation with Evan was turning into the proverbial albatross around her neck—thanks to Damian and her mother. If it wasn’t for them, the whole thing would’ve been forgotten by now.
“You’ll make a beautiful bride,” her mother said, adding the finishing touches to her own outfit. Abruptly she changed the subject. “Lois has worried herself sick over this silly barbecue.”
“But why?” Mrs. Dryden had thrown a hundred parties more elaborate than this.
Her mother sat on the bed and leaned back on her hands. “I don’t suppose there’s any reason to keep it a secret. Walter’s been approached about running for the Senate.”
Walter Dryden had been active in community affairs for years. Although he’d never held public office, he’d often managed the successful campaigns of others. He’d taken an early retirement from the law firm, and, from what Jessica understood, had grown restless with inactivity. Running for office would doubtless come as a welcome challenge.
“Has he decided he’s going to run?”
“Your father and I think so. He hasn’t declared his candidacy yet, but we’re confident he will. He’s testing the waters with this barbecue tonight. The ostensible reason is to welcome this artist—a Pierre Sidonie—but a number of people from the political arena will also be present. So this is probably the most important party of Lois’s marriage. No wonder she’s a nervous wreck.”
Even before Jessica and her parents arrived for the barbecue, the pungent smells of tomato sauce, spices and roasting meat mingled in the afternoon sunshine and drifted over the fence.
As they were greeted at the front door, Jessica was reminded, by the fervor with which Lois hugged her mother, what very good friends the two women were. Their friendship had spanned more than twenty years, and they were like sisters. Jessica felt the same way about Cathy. They’d met in college, where they’d been roommates for three years.
When Jessica didn’t immediately see Evan or Damian, she wandered outside. A series of round tables decorated in red checked tablecloths were scattered across the lush expanse of lawn. The day was perfect, warm but not hot, and the sky was cloudless. A soft breeze ruffled the leaves of the large shade trees that lined the property. This was New England summer at its best. The aromas of the food were heavenly, too, reminding her how hungry she was. Shopping and preparing for the party hadn’t left time for lunch.
Several dozen guests had arrived, and Jessica scanned the crowd. She spotted Evan standing next to a lovely blonde in a white fringed dress with a turquoise belt and silver buckle. Jessica didn’t recognize the woman, and a few discreet inquiries got her nowhere. She became all the more curious. She attempted to make her way over to Evan, since she was officially his date, but in actuality, she was seeking an introduction to the lovely blonde. Perhaps this was Evan’s new romantic interest, she thought hopefully. But before she could reach Evan, she was waylaid by some family friends. Most of the Drydens’ guests were older people, established names Jessica had known or heard all her life.
“Hello, Jessica,” Damian said from behind her. She turned to find him in the sort of suit he wore at the office. He’d made an attempt to dress to the theme with a black Stetson, which, in Jessica’s opinion, looked entirely out of place on his very Bostonian head.
His eyes glimmered with appreciation. “You look—” he hesitated “—good.”
Jessica suspected it wasn’t often that Damian was at a loss for words. It lifted her spirits considerably.
“I imagine you’re wondering who that blonde is, the one draping herself all over Evan,” he suggested casually.
That was true, although not for the reasons he believed. She couldn’t help being grateful to this unknown woman for keeping Evan occupied. Otherwise he might feel obliged to pay attention to her, and she’d much rather spend her time with Damian.
“Who is she?” Jessica asked, playing his game.
“Do I detect a small hint of jealousy?”
“Of course not.” The question irritated her.
“That’s Ramona Sidonie.”
“Who?”
“The artist’s daughter.”
That explained it. Naturally Evan considered it his duty to make Ramona
