out into the brisk late autumn air. They moved slowly, stopping to inspect rocks, hedges, and the fire hydrant at the corner. When she got back to her house, Charlie stared in disbelief. In the short time she was away, a large For Sale sign had been planted on her front lawn. Someone must have been watching the house. The thought gave her the shivers. Worse, whoever planted the sign -- she doubted Sheila had gotten her hands dirty-- had punched a large hole in her carefully tended lawn and left the divot lying beside it. On the post beneath the sign was a clear plastic display case filled with flyers describing the house. This was too much.
She let the dogs loose in the house, then went to the front lawn and pulled the sign out, leaving a gaping hole. She carried it into the garage, tore the flyers up and dumped the pieces into the trash. She replaced the divot, tamping it back into the ground. The war was escalating.
After dark, Charlie wrestled the sign into the trunk of her car and drove to the Fairbrook Realty office. They could have their sign back. Next time they’d have to come to her for permission. Lights were on, and she saw someone moving around inside. She passed by and continued on until she passed a construction site with huge dumpsters parked in front. She lugged the sign to the nearest one, and with a huge effort, heaved it over the top and into the debris box. Dusting off her hands, she drove home with a mixture of dread and satisfaction. She’d shown them they couldn’t trod on her lawn or her. It was their move next.
CHAPTER 5
Laurel couldn’t believe that, under the circumstances, Zora was giving her annual party. Zora had once confided that she gave the first party of the holiday season to insure she got invited to all the affairs that followed. It was also around the time of her anniversary, so it was doubly festive. And this year they were celebrating their twenty-fifth. So this party was the most elaborate yet.
With so many people thrown out of work just before the holidays, it seemed to Laurel inappropriate and downright insensitive to hold such an elaborate event. But she and Zora marched to different drummers.
Naturally, Wes had refused to come. But Laurel couldn’t see any reason not to. Even though she knew many of the people here, she was nervous. This was the first time since her marriage that she had attended a formal event without Wes. Normally he would have introduced her to his colleagues, gotten her a drink, made sure she had someone to talk to. Tonight she was on her own. She handed her car keys to the valet Zora had hired and walked up the wide steps to the front door with the brass lion’s head knocker.
She waited in the marble foyer as Zora air-kissed a couple Laurel didn’t know. The maid took the woman’s fur, then returned for Laurel’s wool overcoat. Laurel hoped no one would recognize her green crepe dress as the one she’d worn last year. She’d sewn a lace collar to the neckline to disguise it.
Laurel patted the back of her head, scrunching her hair to hide any roots she might have missed. When Wes lost his job, she gave up her weekly trip to Shear Beauty. Now coloring it herself, Laurel was afraid she had gotten more dye on the towel than on her head. She asked Wes if she’d missed any spots, but he barely looked, and she didn’t trust his grunted “looks fine.” In his present frame of mind, he probably wouldn’t have noticed if she’d dyed it green and sculpted it into a Mohawk.
When Zora, sleek and trim in an emerald silk sheath turned to greet her, Laurel felt like the epitome of frump. Compared to Zora’s jet black coif, her hair seemed mousy brown. Why hadn’t she tried a more dramatic color? And she had to shed the ten pounds that seemed permanently attached to her mid-section. The trouble was she loved to eat as much as she loved to cook.
“Where’s Wes?” Zora asked.
“He’s not feeling well. He sends his regrets.” Laurel crossed her fingers behind her back.
“Let’s get you a drink.” Zora steered Laurel into the crowded living room. Pockets of people cradled drinks in their hands and plucked canapes from trays passed by young men in white waistcoats. A string trio played in the corner. Through the open doorway, Laurel spotted the buffet table in the dining room.
At the far side of the room, Nathan stood behind the marble-topped bar mixing drinks. “I intended to have this at the Club, but they couldn’t accommodate me,” Zora confided. “At the very least I wanted to hire a professional bartender, but Nathan insisted on doing it himself. He said that way he’d get a chance to talk to everybody.” She left Laurel at the bar and returned to the front hall.
Nathan’s mouth curved in a slight smile, but his eyes looked sad, as if his face belonged to two different people.
Laurel asked for a glass of white wine. She tried to think of small talk, but her mental quiver was empty of conversational arrows. “It’s a nice party,” she said.
Nathan shrugged. His hand shook slightly as he filled her glass. Before she could thank him, he moved to the other end of the bar to help another guest.
Laurel recognized a few people from company parties she’d attended, but nobody she felt she could approach. She wasn’t adept at chatting with people she didn’t know well-- she usually left that to Wes.
To her surprise, she spotted the Armstrongs across the room. Zora probably had invited them because, though he was no longer Nathan’s boss, Craig was still a powerful man, someone to impress, someone who might be useful. But she couldn’t understand why they came. If she were in his place, she would have felt embarrassed to be among people she’d put out of work. But Craig looked relaxed and jovial. Caprice, blonde and willowy, her upswept hair revealing her swan-like neck, hung on his arm. Her expression looked as tight as her flawless skin. She wore a sapphire satin cocktail dress and a strained smile.
Laurel had always been pleasant to Caprice for the sake of Wes’s job, but she had not forgiven her for stealing Charlie’s husband. Now, she no longer had to feign good will. Not that Craig was any bargain. Craig’s first love was Craig. When Caprice started to thicken with age, Laurel wondered, would he still be there? Did she cater to him as Charlie had?
Poor Charlie. After her divorce, she had disappeared from the social radar. While Craig had a shiny new family, Charlie was alone. Laurel had tried to fix her up with some of Wes’s friends from time to time, but Charlie would have none of it. She was adamant she did not want a man in her life.
Laurel spotted a knot of women from the Club who she knew casually and headed for them. The knot loosened and made room for her. “We haven’t seen you in awhile,” one woman said.
“You know how it is,” Laurel smiled. “Busy, busy.”
The conversation resumed, and Laurel realized they were dissecting another party they’d attended, one to which she hadn’t been invited. When the talk turned to an upcoming event in which she also was not included, Laurel slipped away.
She spied three women with whom she’d served on a social committee. She approached them, smiling, trying to join their conversation. But they talked on, appearing not to notice her. For the first time, she understood why some people didn’t enjoy parties. She shouldn’t have come. She’d slip out quietly. No one would notice. But first she had to check out the buffet. The food at Zora’s parties was always so elegant. Try as she might, Laurel could never get her dinners to come out so perfect.
As Laurel squeezed past a group of men, drinks in hand, holding court by the dining room door, she caught a snatch of conversation. “Doesn’t seem to be enjoying his own party.”
“Hasn’t been the same since the accident.”
“Must have
