id="ulink_25eed3f9-4121-50c9-82cf-81ccc1628009">
6
They woke up around one, incredibly hungover, to the sound of a racket in the kitchen, and emerged with their eyes shut against the light, like newborn kittens. Victoria took one look at them, gave them mugs of coffee and a bottle of Tylenol, and told them to get lost until dinnertime. She made noises about the caterers needing space to work, but Jenny doubted that was the real reason. Jenny wouldn’t want girls like them around her adorable towheaded children either.
They bundled up and went out into Central Park. The leaves were off the trees, and the bitter wind cut through their jackets, but still, Jenny felt grand walking around the city. She breathed in diesel-scented air and admired the wintry sunlight glinting off the magnificent apartment buildings visible over the treetops. Kate dragged them all the way across the park with the promise of Thanksgiving floats. When they reached the West Side, they found that the parade had ended hours ago. All that remained were hot dog vendors and piles of confetti, so they ate hot dogs for breakfast, and walked back across the park, all the way to Madison Avenue. The shops were closed. They linked arms and wandered up and down the deserted avenue, ogling the exquisite clothes in the windows, feeling like the city was theirs alone.
Back at Kate’s building, they chattered all the way up in the elevator, and peeked into the overheated kitchen, which bustled with catering staff and smelled deliciously of roast turkey. They were ridiculously happy, right up until the minute Victoria cornered Kate outside the door to the library.
“I’m warning you, your father’s here now, so you better clean up your act,” Victoria hissed, in a tone that made Jenny look up from unpacking her dinner clothes.
Victoria and Kate stood in the doorway, glaring at each other. Kate made a sour face and turned away. Victoria grabbed Kate’s arm. Kate yanked her arm away and slammed the door to the library, blocking Jenny and Aubrey’s view of the confrontation. But their raised voices were still perfectly audible.
“You could show a little gratitude,” Victoria said. “I’m trying to help you out. He’s not too happy about the uninvited guests.”
Jenny and Aubrey exchanged alarmed glances.
“How many guests do you have tonight, Victoria?” Kate demanded. “Let’s count. Your low-class mother and her fat boyfriend who chews with his mouth open. The three bratty cousins from Bedford. Lauren from your tennis club with her fake boobs and her husband who tries to feel me up. Any others? You don’t have any problem spending Dad’s money feeding your people. If I bring a few of mine, I would think you would have the manners not to complain.”
“Don’t talk to me about manners. Not when you stumble in semiconscious at five o’clock in the morning and wake up my children. Honestly, Kate, I think I’ve been pretty indulgent. My life would improve considerably if your father cut you off, and yet, whenever he contemplates doing that, which I can assure you happens more and more often lately, I foolishly talk him out of it.”
“You’re lying.”
“You know I’m not. I overheard your telephone conversation with him the other day. It’s obvious why you brought these girls home. Looking at them, I don’t even believe they’re your friends. You’re using their presence here to avoid your moment of reckoning. Well, it won’t work.”
“Victoria, nothing you say affects me, because I don’t believe a word of it. You see me as a threat to your extremely lucrative relationship with my father, and you’ll do anything to poison his feelings for me. So get out of my face. I have to dress for dinner. Thank you.”
Kate stepped into the library and slammed the door. She looked like she’d been punched in the stomach.
“Is everything all right?” Aubrey asked.
“Should we leave?” Jenny said.
“Screw her. Get dressed,” Kate said. Her face was bright red, and she was obviously trying not to cry.
Jenny rummaged in her suitcase. They pretended to be absorbed in getting dressed, and avoided each other’s eyes. Aubrey pulled off her T-shirt and pulled on the sparkly top she’d worn to the club last night.
“My God, you cannot wear that,” Kate said in horror. “This is a family dinner. It’s completely inappropriate.”
Aubrey blanched. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really think—”
“How much thinking does it take? Only a trashy person would wear that.”
Aubrey was on the verge of tears.
“Stop it,” Jenny said. “Don’t take it out on her.”
“You shut up.”
Jenny grabbed Kate by the shoulders. “Listen to me. Stop being a bitch, and tell us what’s going on, because we’re your friends. Honestly, Kate, we’re the best friends you’ve got. We don’t care about your parents or your apartment or your clothes. We actually care about you. Let us help.”
“I don’t need help,” Kate declared, but her face said differently.
“Yes, you do,” Jenny said. “And we want to help you, which is probably more than you can say for those people at the club last night.”
“Is your dad really going to cut you off?” Aubrey asked, looking shell-shocked.
Kate sat down on the leather couch, buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears. Jenny and Aubrey both rushed to comfort her.
“He might,” Kate said, sobbing.
“Your stepmother turned him against you?” Jenny asked.
“It’s not that simple. He’s hated me ever since my mother died. He blames me.”
Kate buried her face in Jenny’s neck, her shoulders heaving with sobs. It was thrilling for Jenny, feeling the hot tears against her skin, realizing that the great Kate Eastman needed her.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Jenny said soothingly.
“It is, you don’t know us,” Kate wailed.
“Your mother died of cancer. It wasn’t your fault, and your father doesn’t blame you. You’re imagining things.”
“No, he’s right. I was a bad daughter.”
“When you were ten?”
“I refused to visit her in the hospital because the tubes scared me. She got really upset, and that made her worse. My dad blamed me. He thinks I’m a terrible person.”
“Hey, listen to me,” Jenny said, pulling away and looking Kate in the eye. “You’re talking crazy, okay? People die of cancer. I know that’s hard to accept when it’s your own mother. Nothing you did as a child made your mother die, and your father doesn’t think that. Do you hear me?”
Kate nodded miserably.
“But it sounds like he’s mad at you now. Do you know why?”
“Ugh, the
