by Joy Fielding
“Come on, Chloe. Don’t play dumb. I hate women who play dumb.”
Chloe tried again to place the voice, but it remained a mystery.
“You know what I like to do to women who play dumb?”
Chloe sank back into her chair at the kitchen table, burying her head inside her hands, trying to conjure up a face to match the angry voice, but nothing materialized.
Her first thought, of course, was that it was Matt. But Matt’s voice had an entirely different timbre to it. And after all their years together, she knew its every nuance and inflection. There was no way he could have disguised it so totally that she wouldn’t recognize it.
Her cellphone rang.
She glanced at it warily, letting it ring a second time before answering. “Hello?”
“You remember what happened to poor little Tiffany Sleight, don’t you?” the voice said menacingly. “First, I fucked her till she bled and begged for mercy…”
The cellphone dropped from Chloe’s hands, its face shattering upon contact with the tile floor. Seconds later, both children came running down the stairs into the kitchen.
“Mommy!” yelled Sasha, rushing to her side. “Mommy!”
Josh lingered in the doorway. “Why are you screaming?” he asked, again more accusation than question, his eyes darting between his mother and the phone at her feet.
Chloe hadn’t realized she’d been screaming. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared,” Josh said. “Who said I was scared?”
“I’m scared,” Sasha whispered.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Chloe told her. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” She reached down to retrieve her phone, bringing it warily to her ear, hearing nothing.
“Is it broken?” Sasha asked.
“Yes.”
“Can you fix it?”
“No. I’ll have to get a new one.” And a new number, Chloe added silently. She understood that while the call to her landline might have been random, a call to her cellphone was most definitely not.
But if the caller wasn’t Matt, who else could it be?
“Who called?” Josh asked, as if reading her mind.
“No one,” Chloe said, tossing her injured cell onto the counter and leading the children out of the room. “Wrong number.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
She saw them as soon as she walked into the room.
They were standing in front of the ballroom’s north wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Boston Common. Heather was dressed—barely and predictably—in something tight and red. Noah was tastefully attired in the stylish modern tuxedo Paige had helped him select for his sister’s wedding last November. Just as Paige had suspected, her cousin was draped all over him, one arm circling his back, the other touching his arm, her head repeatedly grazing his shoulder, her eyes reaching adoringly for his as they chatted with their guests.
Was it her imagination or did he look as uncomfortable as Paige felt, maybe even a little embarrassed? She decided it was probably just wishful thinking on her part and forced herself to turn away before Noah could catch her staring.
There were easily 150 people in the large, beautifully appointed room whose palette was a soft mingling of beige, white, and silver. At least a dozen round tables with white tablecloths and magnificent mauve-and-white floral centerpieces occupied the far half of the room. Smiling waiters with silver trays of hors d’oeuvres floated across the subtly patterned beige carpet, weaving expertly among the guests.
Paige shook her head as one approached with an array of tiny grilled cheese sandwiches. Just one glance at Noah with Heather had sent her stomach into free fall and caused her to lose her appetite.
“I’ll try one,” Sam said, lifting a miniature sandwich off the tray and popping it into his mouth. “Sure you don’t want one? They’re delicious.”
“Not hungry.” Paige felt all eyes in the room shift toward her, as if she’d screamed the words at the top of her lungs.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
She glanced at him, although only briefly. The truth was that she’d barely looked at him since he’d arrived to pick her up. Not that he wasn’t presentable—even handsome—with his newly trimmed hair, dark blue suit, pink shirt, and paisley tie. But he was no Mr. Right Now. No one—certainly not Heather—would look at him and think she’d traded up. And wasn’t that the whole point of bringing a date to the party? I’m the worst person in the world, she thought. “I’m fine,” she told him.
“Have I told you how lovely you look?” he whispered.
“You have. Thank you.”
“You are definitely the most beautiful woman here.”
“Thank you,” she said again, wondering what was the matter with her. Sam was a good man. He looked good, he smelled good, he said all the right things. So why was she so irritated by him? What was her problem?
“Ready to rumble?” he asked, taking another step into the room.
“Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice.”
“Paige, darling,” a voice said, making the choice for her.
Paige watched her mother make a beeline for her, long rhinestone earrings bouncing toward the shoulders of her beige silk dress. “Mom! You look gorgeous,” she said, realizing she meant it. Joan Hamilton’s features had been energized by her new haircut, which had knocked at least ten years off her age, emphasizing the cut of her cheekbones and bringing a mischievous sparkle to her deep blue eyes.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Joan looked toward the man at her daughter’s side. “You must be Sam.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“Please call me Joan.”
“Where are Michael and Deborah?” Paige pretended to search the room for her brother and his wife when she was really checking to see whether Noah was looking.
Joan peered through the roomful of guests. “They were beside me a second ago. Oh, dear. So many people. I had no idea your uncle was so popular.”
Paige felt a renewed surge of annoyance, this time at her uncle. If Ted Hamilton was popular, it was only because of his more outgoing brother. It wasn’t fair that the two men weren’t sharing this evening.
The wrong twin had survived. The wrong twin was celebrating.
“Don’t forget to wish him a happy birthday,” her mother said, as if aware of Paige’s thoughts.
“Of course,” Paige said, absently watching her uncle as he stood with his wife by the far wall, accepting the congratulations of friends and colleagues. She bent forward, as if to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Did Noah say anything to you?” she whispered.
“Just hello,” her mother whispered, pretend-kissing back. “I ignored him. As should you,” she added pointedly.
Paige nodded, leaving her mother and wending her way through the crowd toward her uncle, Sam at her side.
“Deep breaths,” he cautioned as they approached.
“Well, look who’s here,” Ted Hamilton exclaimed, opening his arms wide. “One of my very favorite people in the whole world.”
“Happy birthday, Uncle Ted.”
“Thank you for coming,” he said, lowering his voice. “I know this can’t be easy for you. You can’t know how sorry I am.”
Paige nodded, not sure if he was referring to the fact that her father wasn’t here or that Heather and Noah were. Possibly both.
“Paige, darling,” his wife said, breaking into the conversation. “So glad you decided to come. And who’s this handsome fellow?”
“This is my friend, Sam Benjamin.”
“So nice to meet you, Sam,” Bev said, giving him a not-too-subtle once-over. She smiled. Not as handsome as Noah, the smile said. Score one for Heather.
“Very nice to meet you both,” S
am said. “Happy birthday, sir. Many happy returns of the day.”
“Thank you. My wife throws one hell of a party, doesn’t she?”
“Well, the ballroom was Heather’s idea,” Bev demurred, glancing toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Such a beautiful view.”
“Did you know that the Boston Common is the country’s oldest public park?” Sam asked.
“Well, I knew it was old,” Bev said with a laugh. The laugh was bigger and more robust than it needed to be.
“Established in 1634.”
“Which makes it almost as old as me,” Ted Hamilton joked.
Really? Paige thought. We’re talking about the Boston Common? Next, we’ll be talking about the weather.
“Lovely day today, wasn’t it?” Bev said obligingly.
“At my age, every day aboveground is a lovely day,” Ted Hamilton said.
“Oh, Ted,” his wife giggled. “Eighty’s hardly old anymore. You have lots of years left.”
“Excuse me,” Paige said, feeling her blood begin to boil and turning away before she started screaming.
“Breathe,” Sam said again, following her.
“I’m not sure how much of this I can take.”
“Then you’d better brace yourself,” Sam said, peering over her shoulder. “There’s a woman headed this way…”
Paige swiveled in the direction of his gaze. “Oh, shit.”
“Hello, Paige.” Her cousin was standing in front of her, a slow smile stretching toward her ears.
“Heather,” Paige acknowledged, feeling all eyes in the room swivel toward them. There was a moment of silence as Paige tried to choose between grabbing her cousin by the throat or fleeing the premises.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Why?” Paige heard herself ask. “Do you want to fuck him?”
Heather’s cheeks blushed the same color as her dress. “Excuse me!”
“Whoa,” Sam said softly, his hand reaching for Paige’s elbow.
Paige brushed his hand aside. “Of course, you don’t always need to know their names, do you? If I’m remembering correctly…”
“Maybe dial it down a notch,” Sam whispered to the back of Paige’s head.
Paige ignored him. This is dialed down, she thought.
“Okay, look,” Heather said, regaining her composure along with the upper hand, “I can see you’re upset.”
“Can you? Can you really see that?”
“But this is hardly the time or place. It’s my father’s birthday. This is a celebration…”
“A celebration,” Paige repeated.
“Breathe,” Sam said again.
“…and I was really hoping you’d be able to rise above whatever issues you may have with me…” Heather continued.
“The issue being that you fucked my boyfriend,” Paige interrupted. “I assume that’s the issue you’re referring to?”
“…and that you could put your feelings for me aside,” Heather persisted stubbornly. “For my father’s sake, if not your own.”
Paige felt her hands forming fists at her sides.
“For your sake,” Sam said to Heather, “I think I’d walk away while I still had all my teeth.”
Paige almost laughed. Leave it to a dentist to reference teeth.
Heather sighed and shook her head. “Poor you,” she told Sam. “You obviously have no clue what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I wouldn’t waste too much time worrying about me.”
“Suit yourself. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Heather smiled over her shoulder at Paige as she walked away. “I’ll tell Noah you said hello.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
It was after eight o’clock when dinner was finally served and almost ten when Ted Hamilton, responding to intermittent, halfhearted cries of “Speech, speech!,” finally pushed his chair away from his table in the center of the room and stood up to speak.
Joan breathed a sigh of relief. It meant the party was almost over and she could go home. She was exhausted. From smiling. From making small talk. From worrying about her daughter. From pretending to be having a good time.
The evening had proved more of an endurance test than a celebration. Joan had never enjoyed large parties, especially ones where she knew only a fraction of the guests. She suspected that at least half the room consisted of aging former employees of the company the two brothers had founded, and not actual friends. She wondered how many people Ted Hamilton would be able to identify by name. Her husband would have known every single one.
She glanced across the table at Paige, who’d barely touched her food all night. She’d been too busy refilling her wineglass and pretending to be oblivious to Noah, who sat three tables away, Heather at his side. Paige had spent most of the evening in conversation with her brother and his wife, laughing a touch too loudly at Michael’s jokes and pretty much ignoring Sam. This was a shame, Joan thought, because Sam seemed like a very nice man.
Which was exactly the problem, she understood. Paige wasn’t ready for nice. It was too early for nice.
Maybe in a few months. Maybe not for another year. What her daughter needed now was time. Time to get over Noah’s betrayal, to get him out of her system, to figure out what she wanted, to be receptive to a man like Sam.
This simply wasn’t his time. Like a premature baby, Sam had arrived too soon.
What her daughter needed right now was a man she could fuck and forget.
Joan blushed at her silent use of the crude phrase, almost as if she’d spoken it out loud. Robert had never approved of such language, let alone the thought behind it. She could barely believe she approved of it herself.
Not that she was a prude, by any stretch of the imagination. She’d had her share of lovers before she met Robert, her share of forgettable men. She was, as she’d recently reminded Paige and Chloe, a child of the sixties. She sighed, understanding that that decade was part of another era.
Indeed, another century.
Where had all that time gone?
“Mom?” a voice asked from beside her. Joan turned toward her son, who was staring at her through worried hazel eyes.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Why do you ask?”
“You had this very strange look on your face,” he told her. “And you went all pink. Are you having a hot flash?” He grabbed her wrist, feeling for her pulse.
“I’m fine,” she told him, trying to shake free of his grasp. “And I’m a little old to be having hot flashes, don’t you think?”
“You’re a little old to be shaving half your head,” he said. “Besides, some women have hot flashes all their lives. Stop fidgeting and let me get a read. Your heart rate is slightly elevated.”
“What’s happening?” Paige asked from across the table.
“Your brother is playing doctor.”
“I am a doctor,” Michael reminded her.
My son, the cardiologist, Joan thought, half-expecting him to pull a stethoscope out of the breast pocket of his gray suit and hold it against her chest.
“What’s the matter with her?” Paige was already half out of her seat.
“Sit down,” Joan told her. “I’m fine.” She brought both hands to her lap, registering the worried faces around her: Michael and Deborah, Paige and Sam, a rather boring couple named Walt and Lisa Something-or-other, and two recent widows, both named Anne, all of whom were staring at her as if she were about to explode. “Honestly, everybody. Stop worrying. I’m fine. We’re missing the speech.”
“Everything all right over there?” Ted Hamilton asked, pausing in his opening remarks and causing the entire room to glance in their direction.
Joan caught Noah’s eyes drift to
ward Paige, then turn away when he saw her looking.
“Everything’s fine,” Joan said, forcing a laugh. “I’m so sorry. Please continue.”
“Well, as I was saying,” Ted Hamilton began again, referring to the notes in his hand, “I want to thank you all for coming tonight. I’m sure you have better things to do with your Saturday nights than attend an old man’s birthday party.”
There followed the appropriate protests—“You’re not old!” “Who are you kidding?” “We should all look so good at your age!”—before he was allowed to proceed.
“I especially want to thank my wife, Bev, for arranging this wonderful event, for sending out the invitations, for choosing the menu and selecting the wine…”
“Noah selected the wine,” Heather interjected loudly, causing a wave of chuckles to sweep through the room.
“Apparently, Noah selected the wine,” Ted said to another such wave.
Joan watched Paige’s shoulders stiffen and her jaw tense.
“Thank you, Noah. And thank you, Heather, for…” He paused, once again checking his notes, as if he weren’t sure exactly what Heather’s contribution had been. “…for assisting your mother. I’m sure you were a great help with everything.”
Now it was Heather’s shoulders that stiffened and jaw that tensed. Joan almost felt sorry for the girl.
She paid little attention to the rest of her brother-in-law’s speech, choosing to concentrate on the sound of his voice rather than his words. She found that if she closed her eyes and just listened, it was almost possible to hear her late husband. Of course, Robert wouldn’t have needed notes. His speech would have been funny and smart and effortless.
And brief, Joan thought, as Ted droned on.
“Mom,” her son said, gently squeezing her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Is she all right?” Paige asked immediately.
So much for closing my eyes, Joan thought, opening them wide. “Would you please stop?” she whispered. “I’m fine.”
“And lastly,” Ted Hamilton said, “I want to say a few words about my late brother, Robert, who wasn’t as fortunate as I am and didn’t live to see this wonderful day. As I’m sure that all of you know, twins share a special bond, and it’s hard to imagine one more special than the one I shared with Robert. We grew up together, we played sports together, we even dated the same girls.”