The Girls of Mischief Bay

by Susan Mallery

  Eric took two glasses and handed her one. She thought about mentioning the “water bar” but doubted she could say the words without sounding sarcastic. She wanted tonight to go well. She was going to be the perfect party companion.

  After sipping the champagne, she slipped her arm through the crook of her husband’s elbow. “Let’s make a circuit of the room and see who’s here. Then you’ll have a better idea of who you want to make sure you talk to and who can wait for later.”

  His brows rose. “Excellent plan.”

  “Thank you. I have skills.”

  He flashed her a smile. “Mad skills.”

  She laughed.

  His gaze lingered on her. “You look beautiful tonight.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” She squared her shoulders. “If anyone asks, I’m here with the hottest new writer since Matt Damon and Ben Affleck wrote Good Will Hunting.”

  “You got that right.”

  They plunged into the crowd. Nicole hadn’t known what to expect from the party. She’d assumed it would be crowded, loud and filled with those trying to prove they belonged, while the super “in” crowd was determined to show they were too cool to have to try. That part was right. But what she hadn’t expected was how easily Eric fit in with everything going on.

  They did as she suggested and made a circuit of the party. She helped him keep track of who was where. Then they ranked the list in order of importance and started the serious mingling.

  Jacob came first. Nicole had briefly met the older man. He was tall, fit and well-dressed. Now he greeted her as if they’d known each other forever and kissed her on both cheeks.

  “You must be proud of your husband,” he said when he straightened.

  “I am. Very.”

  “Me, too. There’s a lot of people who want to be in this town. Far fewer are willing to do the work. Eric came up with a great story and turned it into an even better screenplay. We’re going to have a winner with this one.”

  “Congratulations.”

  Jacob put his arm around Eric. “I have a couple of people I want you to meet.” He smiled at Nicole. “Five minutes, I swear.”

  “No problem.”

  She instinctively stepped back, giving them privacy, or maybe room to walk away. They stayed close by, talking intently. Jacob gestured toward a group of young women. Two of them broke free and came over.

  The casting call, Nicole thought, watching them shake hands with Eric and then stand just a little too close. There was plenty of preening and breast thrusting as they talked. Eric seemed flattered but not interested. She turned her attention to Jacob.

  He was smooth, she thought, as she watched him dismiss the girls when he was done with them. He dressed well and had a confidence about him that was appealing. She could see why Eric was happy to have him as his mentor.

  She finished her champagne and replaced it with a full glass, then glanced around at the other guests. Her mother would have loved this party, she thought. Between the industry heavyweights and the stars, she would have been running around and getting autographs—which would have humiliated Eric.

  Her mother had wanted this for her. How ironic it was happening to her son-in-law instead.

  Nicole talked to a nice couple who were costume designers, then joined a conversation with a couple of other wives who had also been asked to wait “just a couple of minutes.”

  But even as she told them about Eric’s screenplay and listened to them brag about their husbands, a part of her wished she was home reading Tyler his before-bedtime story. This simply wasn’t her thing. She’d been influenced by her mother’s dreams for her, but in her own heart, she hadn’t wanted fame. Fortune, sure. Who turned that down? But the idea of being well-known, of having strangers come up to her or want her autograph? No, thanks. Which meant Eric had the best of both worlds—he was part of the in crowd, but could go to the grocery store in peace.

  The “few minutes” with Jacob turned into over an hour. When Eric finally returned to her side, they circulated through the party, talking to people he knew. Jacob came by and introduced them to Steven Spielberg and his wife. Nicole listened to the conversation without joining in. She doubted Mr. Spielberg would want to hear that she’d loved E.T. since she was a toddler.

  Sometime after midnight two guys from One Direction joined with a couple of other singers in an impromptu jam session. Nicole found herself at the water bar, where she participated in a taste test. The ridiculousness of the concept had her giggling. Or maybe it was the champagne on an empty stomach.

  By two in the morning, her butt was dragging. She’d been up since five thirty and had taught four classes. Her feet hurt, she was hungry and all she wanted to do was go home.

  She searched for her husband and found him talking to Jacob. Not sure if she should join them or not, she hung back, then sank into an overstuffed chair by the French doors leading to the palatial backyard. As soon as she settled in the chair, she realized how much her feet hurt from her heels and her back ached from standing. She struggled to keep from yawning.

  “Your beautiful wife is exhausted,” Jacob said, smiling at her. “You should take her home.” He winked at her. “If any of my wives had been half so lovely…”

  She struggled to her feet. “You’re too kind.” She walked over to Eric and leaned against him. “Sorry,” she said, yawning again. “My days start early.”

  Jacob nodded. “You have a boy?”

  “Tyler. He’s five. Full of energy.”

  Jacob patted Eric’s shoulder. “You’re a lucky man. We’ll talk on Monday. Progress was made tonight. It’s all good.” He waved and walked away.

  Eric stared after him for a second, then turned to her. “You ready to leave?”

  There was something in his tone. “Not if you’re not.”

  “There’s no point in staying now.” He headed for the front door.

  Nicole trailed after him. She could tell he was upset, but had no idea why. From what she’d seen, the party had been a success.

  “Did you try the water bar?” she asked as they waited for the valet to bring their car. “It was interesting. The various waters really did taste different. My favorite one was from Finland. Who knew?”

  Eric didn’t answer. When the valet pulled up with their car, he got inside without speaking.

  The short drive back to the hotel was accomplished in silence. Nicole decided to wait until they were in the hotel room to figure out what was wrong with him.

  When he opened the door to their room, he pushed in without waiting for her. The closing door nearly hit her in the face. She put down her bag, stepped out of her heels, then put her hands on her hips.

  “What on earth is wrong with you?” she demanded.

  Eric spun toward her, his face tight with rage. “You humiliated me in front of Jacob.”

  “What? Are you on crack? I did no such thing.”

  “You were practically sleeping in that chair. You walked away from him more than once, as if to prove how uninteresting you found him. Do you know how lucky I am that he’s taken me on? Do you know how unlikely it was for him to buy my script? The least you could have done was pretend interest, but no. That was too much for you.”

  She felt her mouth drop open. “You are a hundred percent wrong. I never walked away. I was giving you space. Privacy. I didn’t know what you were going to talk about. I thought if I clung to you, I would be in the way. I was being polite.”

/>   “Is that what it’s called?”

  “Yes, and if you could take a second and breathe, you’d see I mean what I said. Eric, I was proud of you. I was happy to be with you. I wanted to make this evening special. I did what I thought you wanted.”

  “By snoring in a chair?”

  “I yawned. I was up early and I worked this morning. I was tired. Is that so unforgivable?” She paced to the window, then faced him again. “I’m confused. I really tried to make you happy. I mingled, I was friendly, I tried the water bar. I wasn’t ignoring you or Jacob. You have to know that. What’s actually going on here?”

  She kept her voice gentle. She didn’t want to fight with him. This was a misunderstanding. He had to know her well enough to believe she wouldn’t ever try to humiliate him.

  “You had your chance,” he told her. “All those years ago. You had your chance and you couldn’t make it. So you settled. Now you see me getting my dream and you can’t stand it. You resent me for being successful.”

  She’d run out of ways to express shock, she thought as she gaped at him. “That isn’t true. I love my life. I have the business and you and Tyler. I don’t want to be in the industry. I don’t want what you have but I certainly don’t resent you for what you’ve accomplished.”

  “You sure didn’t make it easy. You hounded me to get a job. You wanted me to stop writing.”

  “You quit your job without discussing it with me and then basically disappeared. You wouldn’t help with anything. I had to be responsible for everything, including paying the bills.”

  “It’s the price of art. This is who I am now.”

  Weariness tugged at her until all she wanted to do was collapse on a bed and sleep. She didn’t want to be having this argument on what was supposed to be a special evening. She’d thought tonight might be a chance for them to make a positive change. Instead, it had turned into a disaster.

  “I don’t know what you want,” she admitted. “I know you’re angry, but I don’t understand why. I’m not the bad guy here, Eric. I thought I did the right thing at the party. I’m sorry you don’t agree.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and shook her head. “You’re so different these days. It’s confusing.”

  “And you’re exactly the same.”

  She raised her head. “What does that mean?”

  “I’ve changed and you haven’t. You don’t want to. You like how things were. If it was up to you, you’d want things back the way they were.”

  “I did,” she admitted. “Not anymore. You’re obviously happier now. You’ve found your passion. You should pursue it. You—”

  His words replayed in her mind. He’d changed and she hadn’t. He saw her as stuck in the past and she saw him as only caring about himself. They’d reached the point where they couldn’t retreat and they couldn’t go forward. Not together.

  For weeks she’d wondered what it would be like if she and Eric split up. She’d played with the D word, but hadn’t actually believed it. Not in a way that meant anything.

  For the first time, she stared down into the chasm that was divorce and wondered what would happen if she was forced to the other side.

  “You don’t want to be married to me anymore,” she whispered.

  His gaze met hers, his stare unflinching. She saw emotions flashing through his dark eyes and none of them were soft or loving.

  “No, I don’t.”

  Just like that. She forced herself to keep breathing, to focus on the moment. Reality would slap her hard soon enough. There was no reason to rush it.

  “Is there someone else?” she asked.

  “No. It’s just that I don’t want to be with you.” He hesitated. “I’m not sure I ever loved you.”

  He stood there for a second, then turned to the door. “I’ll go get another room for the night. You can take a cab home in the morning. I’ll be by at some point to get my things.”

  And then he was gone.

  Nicole sat on the bed and breathed slowly, staying in the moment. Because to leave it was to acknowledge that her world had just crumbled around her.

  Twenty-Four

  The singles mingle was the last thing Pam wanted to attend. Despite calls of sun and sand, she hadn’t gone on shore that day. Her balcony faced the island and she had watched the small ships—tenders, she thought they were called—take happy people across the water.

  She promised herself she was going ashore in Jamaica. She had her tour all lined up and her plan to be happy and outgoing. She would ask people to take a picture with her, knowing that in return they would ask the same. That way, there would be a photographic record for later.

  Planning a suicide to look like an accidental death was a lot harder than she would have thought. There were lots of complications and details to be worked out. But it had been good for her, too. She had to think about something other than how much she missed John. Which was probably the weirdest, most twisted thing ever.

  She glanced at her watch and realized it was time. She got her small cross-body bag and her map, then headed out to be friendly and outgoing at the event.

  She arrived at Skywalkers nightclub a few minutes later. This was one of the highest points on the ship and the view was spectacular. A bird’s-eye 360-degree view of the island they’d left and the Caribbean beyond. Both sky and water were beautifully blue.

  The room itself was big, with plenty of seating and, of course, floor-to-ceiling windows. The carpet was a brightly colored swirl pattern. There were sofas and tables, lots of chairs. Music played at a comfortable pitch but she had a feeling that later in the night, it would be a whole lot louder.

  Pam stopped just inside the nightclub and looked around. At first she couldn’t figure out what was wrong, then the truth sank in. The meet-and-mingle she’d come to wasn’t for people to meet and make friends as much as it was for singles. As in men and women. She’d been hoping for a few women her own age. Maybe someone she could make friends with.

  Instead, there were lots of people in their twenties and thirties. Women in short, flirty dresses and men prowling around, eyeing the offerings.

  An older man caught her gaze and winked. She immediately turned away. She couldn’t do this, she thought. She had to get out of here.

  She hurried to the bank of elevators and frantically pushed the down button. None of the doors opened. She pushed again and again, desperate to get out. To get away. To get back to her room. What had she been thinking? This was wrong—all of it.

  The elevator doors opened. Before she could throw herself inside, she had to wait for the people already on it to exit. There were a couple of younger men who walked past her without giving her a glance, followed by three older women.

  Pam practically stumbled as she rushed into the elevator. She jammed the button for her floor, pushing it over and over again. The doors couldn’t close fast enough. At the last second, one of the older women stepped into the elevator with her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, her tone concerned.

  “I’m fine. I don’t feel well.” She just had to get back to her room, she thought. Where she could sob in peace.

  “Those two statements don’t go together. I think it’s more than that.”

  The elevator began to move.

  The stranger moved closer. “I’m Olimpia. And you are?”

  “Pam. Pam Eiland.” She turned to the other woman and saw she was being watched with a combination of sympathy and understanding.<
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  “Are you by yourself?” Olimpia asked.

  Pam nodded.

  “A recent widow?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I recognize the look. You came to the meet-and-greet thinking you could make some friends and instead you found supermodels and horndogs.”

  In spite of everything, Pam smiled. “Horndogs?”

  “Those horrible men trying to get laid.” Olimpia shuddered. “Why do men have to be like that? Why do they have to assume we want to have sex with them before we even know them? I know it’s popular with young people today, but I don’t understand it. Why would you want to touch a penis before you know where it’s been?”

  “I never thought about it like that,” Pam admitted, really looking at Olimpia for the first time.

  She was small, maybe five feet, and thin. She wore white cropped pants and a yellow T-shirt with a rhinestone pink flamingo on the front. Her hair was short and dark, with a couple of red highlights. Pam would guess she was in her late fifties.

  They reached Pam’s floor. Several people got on. Pam started to say it had been nice to meet her when Olimpia grabbed her wrist and held her in place.

  “Sixteen, please,” she said to the man standing by the elevator. She turned back to Pam. “Come back upstairs with me and meet my friends. We’ll go get a drink and introduce ourselves. They’re nice girls. You’ll like them.”

  Pam hesitated, then the elevator doors closed and she was on her way up again.

  * * *

  “The widows” as Pam thought of her new friends, turned out to be interesting women. Olimpia lived in Florida—Vero Beach. She was very proud of the fact that one of her neighbors was a famous novelist—Debbie Macomber. “The nicest woman you’d ever want to meet.” Olimpia didn’t have any children, but was an avid volunteer—helping out with everything from adult literacy to animal welfare.

  Laura, a tall and full-figured redhead, lived in Roanoke, Virginia. She hated the winters there, but was close to her four children and nine grandchildren, so moving wasn’t an option. She lived in a condo with three cats and a Swarovski figurine collection that apparently rivaled any in the country.