Unlikely

by Fox, Sylvie

  She stopped fiddling with the undergarments she’d picked up. “Why were you so mad?”

  He sat up a little straighter in her chair, still looking ridiculously out of place. “Because unions fail people all the time, especially those who put their blind trust into the hands of crooked leaders. I think they’re not protecting you like they should. If I were you, I’d be worried about the pension’s poor performance, to start.”

  “Ryan, I’m not blind to the problems of unions, but on the issue of compensation and future earnings, I trust them. Trust me to know what I’m talking about.

  “But I love you and don’t want anyone to cheat you or use you.”

  Sophie’s stomach flip-flopped. There was that word again. Ryan, her sister, her parents. It was almost too much. Determinedly, she played it as cool as a cucumber, and went back to getting ready.

  “Which of those are you wearing?” He gestured to the open closet—the two dresses on prominent display.

  “I can’t decide,” she answered honestly. “This one here,” she pointed to the conservative dress, “is the right and appropriate and sane thing to wear.” She pointed to the other. “This one will keep them talking for months.”

  “I thought this party was for your dad,” he said quietly.

  She looked at him quizzically. “Of course, it’s in honor of another award or achievement or commendation he’s won.”

  “Then why would you want to draw attention to yourself? That seems a little selfish.”

  Sophie did a double take.

  “It’s not like that,” she stammered, though it was exactly like that. “Our family drama is like a little play and everyone must act their part. Dad will be the tyrant. Mom will be the peacemaker. Selena will be the perfect daughter, and I will be the rebel. That’s just how it is. If I don’t come dressed the part, the whole family will come unglued.”

  “You’ve changed, you know.” He nodded sagely. “When I met you, you had more rings and studs than a gypsy,” he said, his voice growing quieter, more thoughtful. “These days, your hair is natural more often than not. Your clothes don’t give everything away at first glance. Not every finger or hole has a ring.”

  She stepped further away from him, instantly wary. “Maybe you’re trying to change me. Lawyers can be persuasive that way.” Had she been manipulated? She’d thought he liked her, maybe even loved her, for who she was, but all along maybe he’d been trying to change her into his ideal girlfriend. She shook her head, clearing it a little. She and Ryan weren’t together. Not really.

  None of this mattered anyway.

  “I think you want to change, Sophie.”

  When he spelled it out plainly and simply, she had to admit to herself that it was true. In the years she’d been on her own, she’d discovered who she was, and she liked herself. She no longer felt the need to put everything on display. It was enough that she acknowledged she was an artist and she was a little different from the average girl.

  She pulled the department store bag toward her and pulled out nude stockings and a shoebox. About to untie her robe, she glanced up, realizing Ryan was still in the room.

  “Do you mind? I need to get dressed if we’re going to do this thing.”

  Ryan smirked. “O…kay. If that’s what you’d like.” Acting like a typical man, he dragged his butt leaving the room, clearly hoping to catch a glimpse of breast or a flash of thigh.

  One hour and fifty-nine minutes later, Sophie emerged from the bedroom. Her hair was smoothed into a flapper-style bob with deep waves framing her small face. Her ears were unadorned except for small pearls at her lobes. Her makeup was subtle but perfect, and the dress fit her slim frame perfectly. The only bit of old Sophie that remained was her eyebrow ring. He didn’t say a word about it, though. It was his Sophie and it wasn’t her at the same time. He couldn’t believe he’d always gone after hourglass brunettes with big boobs and wasp waists. Who knew this straight up and down redhead would grab his heart?

  She screwed up her face and stuck her tongue out at him. “Stop staring,” she said, her normally husky voice breaking with nerves. “It’s still me under here. Let’s just get going before I change my mind.”

  Ryan followed her careful directions to her parents’ house in San Marino. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was more—more landscaped, more gated—just more than he’d been ready to deal with. A private valet greeted them at the gate. Ryan handed over his keys. Behind the eight foot tall hedges and iron gates stood a stately Spanish house. Flickering lanterns flanked the wide flagstone steps leading to the house. Warm light poured from every window. The faint sounds of music and the tinkling of glasses drifted from inside.

  He pulled the hand he had been using to guide Sophie from the small of her back and curled his fist into a ball of resentment. He didn’t want to feel anger or jealousy, but the twin demons were there, released from the back of his subconscious where they lurked. How many times had he met his mother at one house or another just like this one—doing his homework at a stranger’s kitchen table while his mother scrubbed on her hands and knees?

  It had incensed him as a child when the “woman of the house” would come downstairs and direct his mother to clean this or polish that, then disappearing to leisure time, the scent of expensive perfume lingering while his mom did the dirty work. On the car or, more often, bus ride home his mom smelled of cleanser and disinfectant, not Chanel No. 5, further amplifying the differences between the haves and have nots.

  Sophie opened the unlocked door and looked at him.

  “You coming?”

  He schooled his features, hoping he hid his unease?

  “You wanted to do this—so let’s do this,” she said, plastering a huge fake smile on her face and walking into the two story entrance.

  He was surprised to find that the house had few guests. Soft classical music swirled around him from hidden speakers. Men and women in bow ties and black uniforms bustled about, carrying boxes of glasses and plastic-covered trays of food.

  Sophie led the way past the mahogany staircase, its intricately curved wrought iron railing gleaming, to a kitchen. Selena stood perfectly poised in the midst of the chaos around her, directing the human traffic with practiced ease. Her graceful movements became animated when she spotted them. She hugged Sophie, but looked toward Ryan.

  “Thanks so much for escorting my sister tonight. She looks lovely,” she said, separating herself from Sophie carefully checking for anything that may have marred the spotless white dress.

  Selena gestured at the ring in Sophie’s brow.

  Sophie shook her head, and Selena dropped the topic like a hot potato.

  “Do you need any help?” Sophie asked, though it was clear that her sister had everything in hand.

  Selie demurred. “Why don’t you show Ryan around and get him a drink? The bartender is set up under the pergola in the back. Mom is bringing Dad in about half an hour. They plan to make an entrance.”

  “Of course,” Sophie muttered under her breath. She grabbed Ryan’s hand, though to him it felt like she was holding on for dear life. “Let me give you the five-cent tour.”

  So this was how the other half still lived. It was even newer and grander than the houses his mother had worked in. Everything, including housing, had been supersized. Ryan could have fit his mother’s house into this place four or five times. Sophie showed him the formal living room where a wood fire roared. She made quick work of the finished basement and the family and dining rooms. Every surface gleamed. The furniture was impeccable. He felt like he was on the set of a nighttime drama. Real people didn’t live this way.

  “How many bedrooms are there?” he asked, more for something to say than for seeking knowledge.

  Sophie counted on her hand quickly. “Five or six, depending on what you include,” she said softly. She opened a door and showed him a sunny yellow room with a canopy bed draped with pale pastel fabric. “This was my room.”

  Th
e room didn’t reflect Sophie at all, at least the Sophie he thought he knew. “You lived in here?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice.

  She laughed. “It didn’t look like this when I left for college, Ryan. I think in its last incarnation I’d painted the walls dark purple with some kind of ghoulish white mural on the far wall. Mom promptly had it redecorated after I left to something she found more…appropriate.”

  An older woman dressed sedately in yards of swirling purple crepe and low-heeled shoes burst into the room. “Sophie, my girl!” she cried excitedly. “Selie said you were here.” She wrapped Sophie in a bear hug and kissed both powdered cheeks enthusiastically.

  When the women parted, Ryan stuck out his hand tentatively. “Mrs. Reid, it’s so nice to meet you.” The room was quiet, and then the women burst out in laughter.

  “Ryan this is our housekeeper, Faith Lawson. We just call her Lala.”

  Humiliation flooded Ryan. Of course this woman was her housekeeper. He should have known Mrs. Reid would not wear purple, or flat shoes. Of course the Reids were the type of family to have a housekeeper. Would he never learn?

  Faith shook Ryan’s hand. She looked him up and down appreciatively. “Well, well, you are a nice looking guy. Selie was right about that. Is it true that you’re a lawyer?”

  Ryan, inexplicably comfortable with this woman, nodded. “The rumors are true,” he admitted.

  Sophie’s face burned with embarrassment. The chickens were certainly coming home to roost. How many times had she stood before her parents vowing to never be like them? But here she was, dressed like the perfect debutante with a clean cut attorney on her arm. It was just one night, she reminded herself. She was doing this for her sister and her parents. Despite their differences, she did love them. Doing this one little favor wouldn’t change who she was. Just like seeing Ryan wasn’t going to change her. Sophie vowed to remain true to herself and not buckle to Ryan’s or her parents’ influence.

  Lala looked at Sophie. “This is very interesting. We’ll have to talk about this later.” She pulled off her shoes, her face awash in relief. “I just came up to change these shoes. I got downstairs and realized I looked like somebody’s grandmother in these. I think I need something a little more jazzy for this occasion—you never know who may be out there,” she said, giving Sophie a conspiratorial wink before padding from the room, the thick beige carpet muting her steps.

  The noise from downstairs grew as the guests arrived. Sophie glanced in the vanity mirror and dabbed at her lipstick-stained cheeks with a tissue from the dresser. “It’s show time. Let’s get this over with.”

  They descended the stairs to find the foyer and living room filled with her parents’ well-heeled friends. Sophie took a deep breath, released it, and then waded into the crowd. She hugged a lot of the women and shook hands with a number of the men, a big smile always plastered on her face. Gasps of surprise came from the celebrants as they remarked on how good she looked, how glad they were that she was out of that nasty rebellious stage, and asked her when she was going to quit her job and settle down with a nice man and have a few children.

  A fork hit a crystal flute and the crowd was quiet. Wait staff wove through the throng, pressing champagne flutes into every hand. Then Sophie’s parents entered. They were dressed elegantly—Sophie’s mother Katherine wore a beautiful gray taffeta gown that underscored her elegantly upswept silver hair. Judge Reid wore a simple tuxedo with gray silk tie and cummerbund. Sophie and Selie drew up next to their parents. Selena shushed the crowd again.

  “Thank you so much to everyone for making it here during this busy holiday season. My sister Sophia and I are so proud that the state bar association has seen fit to honor our father with a lifetime achievement award. He’s given many excellent years of service to both the bar and the bench. Please join me in a toast honoring our father, Judge Harry Reid.”

  A chorus of “Hear, hear!” rose from the crowd. Glasses clinked and people sipped. Judge Reid stepped forward and the crowd quieted automatically.

  “I just want to thank the three beautiful women in my life for helping celebrate this achievement. My lovely wife and life mate, Katherine,” he said, placing a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “And my lovely daughters, Sophia and Selena. Thank you.”

  He gathered Katherine and Selie around the waist. Sophie stood awkwardly next to her sister, and a photographer snapped photographs of the family. Muted applause broke out.

  “Thank you, everyone. I won’t give a speech tonight. Some of you who still practice hear far too much of me from the bench already.” A few men in the crowd laughed heartily.

  “Plus,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling with merriment, “I think winning an award of this type means you have one foot in the grave, and I don’t want to jinx my chances by being too satisfied. Thank you all for coming. Now go enjoy all of this food and champagne and good conversation.”

  In a rare moment alone, Sophie tipped back her second or third or fourth flute of the expensive champagne. She’d lost count while mingling with her parents’ friends and their children—people she’d known from her neighborhood, the club, and various schools for years. She felt a warm hand on her back. She broke out in a smile, hoping Ryan had finally caught up with her. She turned only to have Alex Brewer at her back. She hoped her eyes didn’t betray her disappointment, but Alex just smiled down at her, none the wiser.

  He folded her into a friendly hug, and she kissed him on the cheek in perfunctory greeting.

  “Alex, long time no see,” she said amiably. She and Alex had graduated from prep years ago.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you. You look great.”

  “Thanks,” she said. At a loss for something to say, she grasped at straws. She no longer had much in common with her prep school friends who had all become doctors, lawyers, or stay-at-home parents.

  “Did you marry Sarah?” she asked after his longtime girlfriend.

  “We broke up a year ago,” Alex said. “I’d love to catch up with you, though. Maybe we could meet up for dinner next weekend?”

  Flustered, Sophie was grateful when Ryan materialized at her side, his arm immediately snaking around her waist. She didn’t know whether to kiss him or kick him for his obvious possessiveness.

  “Ryan Becker.” He thrust his hand toward Alex. “Nice to meet you. And how long have you known Sophie?”

  Alex recovered gamely from Ryan’s intrusion. “We go too far back to remember. She was my prom date, actually,” Alex said, smiling at the memory. “She was dressed more like Elvira than a prom queen, but we had a good time.” He looked at her in obvious appreciation. “This is quite a change.”

  “It was good seeing you, but as one of the hosts, I should circulate,” she said and turned toward the large family room.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your parents?” Ryan prompted, having followed her out of the room.

  Sophie turned back to face him, a pensive look on her carefully made up face. “Why don’t we meet them now?” she said far too sweetly.

  Her parents, champagne glasses in hand had just finished a schmooze session with another gray haired couple when they turned to Sophie.

  “Mom, Dad,” she started without preamble. “I’d like you to meet my…” She paused, clearly searching for the appropriate word. “My friend, Ryan Becker.”

  Ryan extended his hand into the firm grip of Judge Reid and then the soft grip of Mrs. Reid.

  “I’m Judge Reid,” Sophie’s father said. “And this is my wife, Katherine.”

  Sophie’s mother sized Ryan up. “So you’re the one Selie told us about. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Judge Reid’s voice was gruff where his wife’s was soft. “I hear you’re an attorney. Where are you now?”

  Ryan explained the particulars of his current position.

  “VP, that’s good. Where did you go to school?”

  “I got my J.D. at Chicago.”

  “Mmmm, good schoo
l. Where did you summer?”

  “Dad!” Sophie cried plaintively.

  “It’s my right to grill your boyfriends, Sophia. That damned actor was always too high or drunk to answer my questions.”

  Sophie’s face reddened in embarrassment.

  “It’s okay,” Ryan interjected, tightening his grip on her waist and tenderly kissing the top of her head. “I started at Bennett Fruehauf downtown before going in house,” he finished.

  “Good man,” Judge Reid said, heartily clapping Ryan on the shoulder. “Good man. Don’t let this one scare you away. You’d be a very welcome addition to the family. Have you met my brother Billy Reid? It’s never too early to meet the family and network. Should you ever want a change from corporate work, he can give you the inside track on federal labor law.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ryan said removing his hand from Sophie’s waist and shaking Judge Reid’s hand again. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

  Unfettered, Sophie stepped away from the small group. “Excuse me, I see someone I should speak with.” She stalked, stiff backed, from the room.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Judge Reid said. He shook his head, resigned. “I’ve spent a lot of time apologizing for that girl. She’s too damn sensitive about some things. What are your intentions toward my daughter?” Without Sophie there, Ryan squirmed under the scrutiny. Judge Reid continued without allowing Ryan a word in edgewise. “Maybe you can set her on the straight and narrow path. You’ve been a good influence so far. When Selie told us about the co-hosting idea—we were half afraid Sophie would show up looking like a witch at Halloween. She doesn’t look half bad, but I wish she’d take that damn thing out of her eyebrow.”

  “Harry!” Katherine exclaimed. “Be nice. Sophie isn’t that bad. I’m sure she loves us. She just likes to do her own thing, I suppose.”

  “I love her no matter how she looks or dresses.” Ryan’s tone changed. “I would expect no less from her parents.”