Choices (A Woman's Life)

by Marie Ferrarella

  Chapter 3

  For a woman who barely topped the sixty-inch mark, Rheena Fitzhugh Brady cast an enormously long shadow of influence and power. It engulfed everyone who came in contact with her. She was like a solar eclipse, blocking out the sun, taking its place. Except that her effect didn’t pass in a matter of minutes. It remained in place until she permitted slivers of sun to shine through. Rheena could advance a career or ruin one with a well-placed word in the right ear. In her own way, Rheena wielded more power than the senator did. By blood and connections and money, she had avenues open to her that not even the powerful senator from Illinois had at his disposal.

  Despite the fact that she had been raised to expect her every whim to be fulfilled, Rheena was first and foremost an astute businesswoman, capable of taking care of every aspect of life. Very little managed to get past her. She was definitely not a sheltered, pampered empty-headed socialite with no concept of the real world. On the contrary, she was very aware of it. She always had been. She refused to be uninformed and surrounded herself with the best sources of information, listened, then made her own decisions. She knew and understood people, their motives, their desires, and instinctively never fell victim to unscrupulous supercilious hangers-on, of which there were many in the twin worlds of society and politics. She was very much her own woman.

  Her abilities to see past showy veneer allowed her to recognize her son-in-law for exactly what he was. A smiling, conniving opportunist who knew how to use people and situations to his advantage. Had he not been married to her daughter, Rheena might have even enjoyed sitting back and watching him at work. But he was married to Shanna and what he did directly reflected on her and all the Fitzhughs who had come before her. That colored the picture considerably.

  Rheena looked at the redheaded woman hovering over her as she worked so carefully to polish the portrait-like face. Rheena’s famous, pouty lips were drawn into a hard straight line.

  “You’re taking too long.”

  Alexandra hardly bothered to give Rheena any acknowledgment as she selected another lip brush. “I have more to work with these days.”

  “Watch your tongue, Alexandra.”

  Alexandra snorted. “You want to hear empty, flattering words? Talk to that pretty son-in-law of yours. If you can get past that outer ring of adoring women he’s always attracting.” Displeased, she replaced the lip brush and chose another. “Your daughter certainly has her hands full with that one.” A wicked smile split her face.

  The fabulous blue eyes shifted to look at the woman in the mirror. Alexandra looked like a grinning toad.

  Rheena smirked. “You’re old enough to be his grandmother.”

  Alexandra lightly swirled a larger brush over a smattering of pink powder. “Age is a state of mind. It has nothing to do with one’s birth certificate.” She caught Rheena’s eye in the mirror. “And we both know that.”

  Rheena’s eyes sharpened. Did the old crone know? It had been just a temporary dalliance, lasting no more than a week. The cabana boy had only been twenty-one and had made her feel the way Roger never had, not even in the beginning. She couldn’t remember his name anymore, but his lovemaking had the same effect as a vitamin Bi2 shot. It made her feel vital, energized. Her mouth curved into a smile as the memory warmed her.

  But then Rheena’s mouth hardened. What if Alexandra spread this tale? She lifted her chin as Alexandra applied the powder to her cheeks.

  To attack rather than to wait and be forced to defend was the first lesson Rheena had taken to heart. “Why don’t you do something with your hair, for heaven’s sake?” She waved her hand at the untidy mess atop the other woman’s head. The riotous hair was partially held in place with plastic, mismatched barrettes. “You’re a beautician. Use some of your talents on yourself.”

  The criticism rolled off easily. If Alexandra hadn’t developed a thick hide, she would have shriveled up years before she had ever crossed the ocean. “Picasso never looked like any of his work, either.”

  Touché, Rheena thought as she laughed. It was a lively, lusty sound that testified to her wholehearted involvement with life. “You know, you old bat, you’re the only one who I’ll allow to smart mouth me.”

  Alexandra pulled a tissue from the pocket of her oversized green smock. “That’s because you’re too old and too lazy to break in a new makeup artist.”

  It was a careless remark that struck a very real chord. And only Alexandra could have made it and survived with her skin intact. “Not old, Alexandra,” Rheena whispered quietly.

  Resting her hands on the arms of her chair, Rheena leaned forward and looked into the huge mirror that took up one half of the wall. Before her she saw the same stunning eyes that had belonged to the sixteen-year-old who had made her social debut on the arm of a Kennedy cousin. She had sworn to herself then that she would never look old. And she didn’t. Very little had been necessary in the way of surgery, but she had gone that route gladly. The rest had been capriciously granted by nature. She turned heads wherever she went and she intended to continue to do so for a great many years to come. Looks were not something she would give up easily, not while there was an alternative.

  “Never old,” she repeated more lightly. Satisfied that Alexandra was doing her usual excellent work, Rheena relaxed and sat back again.

  Pointy shoulders rose and fell beneath the smock. “Have it your way. Cary Grant looked pretty damn good, too, no matter what his age.”

  Rheena detected the worshipful note in Alexandra’s voice. It was the first time she had heard it from the normally cynical woman. Alexandra had rubbed elbows with the rich, the titled, and the adored alike and never once had Rheena noticed that it affected Alexandra in any way. This reaction intrigued her. “That was different. He was a man.”

  Alexandra paused, allowing a genuine smile to crease her pinched lips. “Yeah, he sure was that.”

  Rheena studied the older woman. “You sound like a star-struck teenager.”

  Again, Alexandra shrugged. “I was, with him.”

  Rheena thought back and smiled. A vision of a balmy night and a very boring party in Buenos Aires came to mind. Boring until he had taken her hand and led her away. Or perhaps, they had led each other. “I met him once, you know, when I was very young. It was at a party for the American ambassador in Buenos Aires.” Her smile grew softer as the memory grew more vivid. “He had a nice technique.”

  Alexandra’s eyes narrowed, her work forgotten. “You didn’t.”

  Rheena shrugged carelessly, a world of meaning in the simple gesture, in the full-mouthed smile she offered. “If you say so.”

  Alexandra dropped the thin lip brush. “You did?”

  Rheena merely nodded her regal head.

  Alexandra moved closer. Rheena could smell the mint she had been chewing. It mingled with the scent of cigarettes. “How was it?” Alexandra whispered.

  “Beyond description.” Rheena let out a long, languid breath as she remembered. “Something to drag out on a lonely winter’s night and remember forever.”

  Alexandra cocked her head and looked at Rheena suspiciously. “Were you married to the senator at the time?”

  Rheena sighed. Grant had made her wish she hadn’t been. She had fantasized for months after that what it would have been like, married to someone who knew how to make a woman feel like a woman. But then, perhaps it was better to live with a dream than to marry it and have it turn out to be a reality. Reality had ugly edges to it and never lived up to expectations.

  Rheena laughed in response to the question. “A lady never tells.” That should keep her guessing. Rheena waved the other woman on to her work. “Now stop drooling and finish me. I’m told that the groom is busy changing the liquid composition of his body into ninety-eight proof. I want to get down there before they wind up pouring him into a glass.”

  Douglas would probably look better that way, she mused. Money only went so far in compensating for faults that nature had bestowed. “This is Cydne
y’s third marriage and she’s hoping it’ll stick. I’d wager if she keeps the bars in her houses well stocked, she’ll hang on to him.” Rheena shook her head, wondering what it was that possessed these young women to chose such unsuitable men for themselves. One married with an eye out for lineage and the family name. The thrills came from different sources.

  The knock on the door had her frowning in annoyance. Someone sent to hurry her along, no doubt. Rheena liked to set her own pace and didn’t react well to being rushed. Time was gauged according to her, not the other way around. Cydney could wait, she decided. “Go away, whoever you are. I’m not ready.”

  Despite the dismissal, the door opened slowly. Shanna slipped in, leaving Jordan in the hall. Since the topic of Senator Whitney’s soiree had come up, Shanna thought it best to lay the groundwork for getting an invitation. Her mother, though she loathed to ask her for anything, was her best bet. As far as she knew, her father hadn’t arrived yet. The last-minute meeting about the president’s veto was obviously still going on.

  Shanna offered Rheena a slight smile, immediately feeling inferior the way she always did in her mother’s presence. “Mind if I come in, Mother?”

  “Come.” The slightly beckoning gesture was befitting of a queen. Rheena kept her persona intact with everyone, even with her daughter. At times, especially with her daughter. She tilted her head and studied the girl’s face. “You look a little peaked, darling.”

  It shouldn’t hurt by now, Shanna thought. After so many years of offhand, belittling remarks, the words shouldn’t hurt her anymore. But they always did.

  “I did the best I could,” Alexandra murmured, removing the long, navy-blue bib from about Rheena’s neck.

  “I wasn’t talking about the makeup,” Rheena snapped irritably. “She looks tired, drawn.” She continued to regard her daughter’s face. “You need a little fun in your life, Shanna.” She gestured vaguely around, casting about for something tangible to work with.

  She rose and moved toward the window. The three-thousand-dollar original whispered reverently like solemn monks praying in an abbey, echoing her movements. “Perhaps a party instead of a three-ring circus,” she mused, glancing out. From her vantage point, she saw Alicia McNichol’s husband leading a woman who definitely wasn’t Alicia behind the gazebo. Rheena shook her head and hoped that they’d have the decency not to be discovered.

  Her mother’s suggestion caught Shanna by surprise. It was the opening she was looking for. “A party. That’s what Jordan said.”

  Rheena pursed her lips, keeping the displeasure from her face. She avidly disliked her son-in-law, but on the surface, they made a nice family portrait and appearances were extremely important to Rheena. They always had been, to the exclusion of feelings and other people’s wishes.

  “Well, for once, Jordan and I seem to be in agreement. So,” she said pleasantly, “why don’t you find one to attend? Or better yet”—Rheena smiled, her eyes narrowing— “give a party yourself.”

  The suggestion was met with the expected response. She saw the uncomfortable expression Shanna sought vainly to hide. Nothing but a disappointment, no matter which way she viewed the girl. Rheena gave an impatient sigh. “You’re never going to learn how to be a proper hostess, Shanna, if you don’t host something.” The disapproval dripped from her voice.

  Didn’t her mother understand that she didn’t care about being thought of as a proper hostess? That standing around, making certain that everyone was suitably engaged in idle conversations that no one would remember tomorrow was totally unimportant to her? If she never gave a society party in her life, she would be vastly relieved. When it came to gatherings, her father’s world held far more interest for her. She remembered the joy she had felt when she discovered that she and Jordan had this important factor in common.

  Shanna took a seat on the white Italian leather sofa. It felt more like soft cream against her skin than a fabric. The leather whooshed seductively along the back of her legs, caressing them as she sat down. Aware of the annoyance in her mother’s face, Shanna reluctantly pushed forward. This was for Jordan and she could put up with her mother’s displeasure for his sake.

  “I was thinking more in terms of Senator Whitney’s party at the end of the month.” Her mouth felt dry and she swallowed, hating the way her mother always made her feel. “Could you speak to Dad about getting us invited?”

  Rheena turned slowly and looked down at her daughter. “Isn’t that a little out of your league, dear?’

  She was tired of everyone telling her where she belonged and didn’t belong. Shanna lifted her head and dug in. “It’s not out of Jordan’s.”

  Rheena sighed. She might have known he was behind this. “That is your opinion.”

  Because the disparaging tone was aimed at Jordan and not at her, Shanna rose defensively. “Mother, he wants to become someone.”

  “Isn’t being a gigolo enough for him?” Rheena saw Shanna cast an agonizing look toward Alexandra, flushing.

  She’d forgotten about the other woman. Her faux pas had Rheena annoyed. She had no patience with mistakes, especially her own. She never let outsiders overhear such personal matters. “Oh, don’t look at me with those hurt-filled eyes, you know what he is.”

  Alexandra coughed, clearing her smoke-clouded throat. Shanna drew back, collecting herself. She didn’t like spilling her emotions like this, especially in front of someone else. Alexandra pretended to be occupied with gathering her things together, but Shanna knew better. Both women waited until Alexandra left the room.

  “Until the next time,” the woman murmured, closing the door.

  Shanna laced her fingers together, forcing the words out. “I know what he could be if he only had the chance. If he was ushered into the right crowd, taken under the right wing, there’s no limit—"

  “To his ambition,” Rheena murmured, patting her hair into place. She surveyed herself in the mirror and nodded her approval. The long, peach gown made her look five pounds thinner. She’d make certain all the wedding pictures were taken before she ate.

  Shanna could see that her mother’s mind was already elsewhere. She thought of her husband, standing beyond the door. Placing a hand on her mother’s arm, Shanna tried to regain the woman’s attention. “He needs to be seen, Mother.”

  Rheena thought of the report the weather-beaten, whiskey-voiced detective had dropped on her desk yesterday. It contained a rather lengthy list of the women Jordan had bedded in just the last year. If sexual prowess was any yardstick, Jordan Calhoun had the makings of a marvelous politician.

  “I would think that Jordan’s been seen enough.” Rheena disliked politicians. At times, even her husband was included in the group. But the prestige was alluring and the White House not out of reach, so she endured, the smiling wife. And played discreetly when she could.

  Shanna looked at her mother, confused. “What?”

  A baby-smooth hand cut through the air, waving away the statement. “Nothing, only talking to myself.” The report was for her benefit, not Shanna’s. Rheena meant to know everything that went on around her. Possibly she’d use the information someday to her advantage. For now it would remain her secret.

  But someday Shanna was going to have to know. She felt sorry for her daughter. Rheena took Shanna’s hands in hers. “Would that make you happy, attending the senator’s party?”

  It would make Jordan happy and that mattered a great deal to Shanna. “If Jordan has what he wants, then I’ll have what I want and I’ll be happy.”

  Rheena let her daughter’s hand go, quickly bored. “I thought you just wanted to be married.”

  “Yes, that and happy.”

  Don’t we all, Shanna. Don’t we all?

  Rheena straightened. “Ah, well, I can only help you attend the party. Happiness is a private affair. Very few of us have it.” With a nod, she declared herself ready to join the vast crowd of people waiting below. “I’ll speak to the senator about it.”

  The
way her mother said it confused Shanna. “Dad?”

  So bland and uninspired. How had she ever given birth to this lackluster child? “No, goose. Whitney himself. Why take the roundabout route when you can get farther being direct?”

  It sounded like something Jordan might have said to her. Her mother and Jordan had more in common than either one would have liked to admit, Shanna speculated.

  Well, at least that was over. She let out a sigh of relief. She had dreaded the idea of going begging to her father. It wasn’t that he turned a deaf ear to her requests. He didn’t. But he always treated her as if she were a simple-minded little pet to be humored.

  As did her mother, she thought, glancing at the woman as she moved toward the door. But when her father did it, it hurt a great deal more. Her father’s opinion still mattered.

  Rheena smiled, a superior, self-satisfied expression spreading over her classic features. “So if I were you, I’d start shopping for my gown, Shanna. You’re as good as invited.”

  She was still toying with her, Shanna thought. “And Jordan?”

  Rheena shrugged casually, one hand on the doorknob. “You’ll need an escort. He’ll do as well as any. At least I won’t have to be there to see him.”

  Shanna looked at her in surprise. “Aren’t you going to attend?”

  Rheena gave a short laugh as she shook her head. Her presence was no longer required at these hideous political receptions, thank the gods. Roger had stopped asking her to come along. She was not one to suffer in silence. “Not on your life. I find those things deadly dull and boring.”

  Shanna thought of the talks she had been privy to. As far back as she could remember, there had been politics in her background. She had grown up playing quietly in corners while florid-faced men with cigars made plans that cast the foundations of history as the country knew it. “I don’t. I find them exciting.”

  A pitying look flittered over Rheena’s features. “You always were a little odd, darling.”

  Rheena opened the door and found her son-in-law in the hall, a few feet away. He’d probably been listening to every word. She fixed a brittle, purposely insincere smile on her face. “Oh, Jordan, standing guard, I see.”