Good Luck

by Whitney Gaskell

  “Oh, just Mother terrorizing my date,” Drew said.

  “Adeline,” Drew’s father chided her fondly. He turned to smile at me and held out his hand. I shook it; he had a much firmer grip than his wife. “You must be Lucy. I’m Hal Brooks.”

  Like Drew, Hal was tall with long limbs and wide shoulders. In fact, father and son looked much alike, although Hal Brooks’s hair had gone gray and the flesh around his jaw had turned jowly.

  I had finally gotten control of my coughing fit, although a tickle remained in my throat.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Brooks,” I managed to say.

  “Please, call me Hal,” he said, and I returned his friendly smile. He gave me a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t let Adeline give you a hard time. She likes to do that with Drew’s girlfriends, and then she wonders why he isn’t married and producing the requisite grandchildren.”

  “Yeah, it’s a real mystery,” Drew said, rolling his eyes. He drained the last of his champagne and set the empty glass down on the tray of a passing waiter. She handed him a full glass in return. “Perfect timing,” he said gratefully.

  “What do your parents do, Lucy?” Adeline asked.

  “My dad is a dental surgeon, and my mom works with a number of animal rescues,” I said.

  “I like her already,” Adeline said approvingly. “Where do they live? I think Drew said that you’re a native Floridian.”

  “Yes, I grew up in Ocean Falls.”

  “Oh, yes, I know it well! We have some dear friends who live there,” Adeline said brightly. “Owen and Cassie Forrester. Do you know them?”

  My mouth literally fell open. I was distantly aware that gaping dumbly at Drew’s parents would not make the best first impression, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

  They knew the Forresters. As in Matt’s parents. And if they knew the Forresters, there was no chance they hadn’t heard about me. The real me, Lucy Parker. The teacher who, according to the Forresters, had sexually propositioned their son.

  “They were supposed to be here tonight, but I suppose with one thing and another…” Adeline began, but then trailed off and waved a hand in the air. “They’ve had a lot to deal with lately, I suppose.”

  A lot to deal with. It wasn’t hard to figure out what—or whom—Adeline Brooks was referring to, and I felt a familiar flutter of resentment. I was the one who’d had a lot to deal with, thanks to the Forresters’ destructively dishonest son. But even so, the very idea that I had almost ended up in the same room with them…My knees went wobbly at the thought. That would have been so very, very bad.

  “Lucy? Is everything okay?” Drew asked, leaning toward me, his brows furrowed with concern.

  Calm, I told myself. Be calm.

  I didn’t want to lie to Drew’s parents or to Drew any more than I already had, but I obviously couldn’t blurt out the truth of exactly how I did know Owen and Cassie Forrester. I drew in a deep breath to steady myself.

  “I’m fine,” I said to Drew. Then, to his mother, “Yes, I’ve heard of the Forresters.” Which was technically true. I had heard of them.

  “I’ll have to ask Cassie about you the next time I talk to her. Your last name is Landon, right?” Adeline asked.

  I nodded, hoping that a lightning bolt wouldn’t come streaking down from the sky to strike me dead on the spot. How many lies can you tell before officially arousing God’s wrath?

  “Oh, look, there’s Bonnie Wilson. Her husband recently passed away. I think this is her first event out,” Adeline said, looking concerned. “Hal, come with me to say hello to her, will you? Lucy, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope I didn’t scare you off.”

  “Not at all,” I said faintly. I was still feeling a bit shaky and was glad to escape further questioning.

  Adeline and Hal moved off to intercept the new widow—who looked remarkably well rested, radiant even, dressed in a dramatic floor-length violet sheath—leaving Drew and me alone.

  “That went well, right?” I asked hopefully.

  “Absolutely. I could tell my mom liked you.”

  “At least she didn’t ask me if my ovaries are working.”

  “Miracles do happen,” Drew said. “But the night isn’t over yet. The fertility cross-examination could still come.”

  “Where are your sisters?” I asked, looking around, wondering if I’d recognize them. I’d seen them in the family photos scattered around his generic bachelor-pad condo but only had vague impressions of big smiles and pretty hair.

  Drew looked around, but the ballroom was getting more and more crowded, and finally he shrugged.

  “I don’t see them. But I’m sure Mother put us all at the same table, so you’ll meet them at dinner. And in order to prepare, I suggest we ditch this champagne and get something more potent. Like a few shots of tequila,” Drew said darkly. He tried to take my champagne glass, but I held it back, shaking my head.

  “First of all, I haven’t had tequila since a very bad, very dark night back in college that ended with me so hungover I couldn’t get out of bed for two days. And second, I don’t want anything stronger. I don’t want your family to think I’m a drunk,” I protested.

  “They won’t notice. They’re all drunks. It’s a WASP tradition.”

  “Even so, after this one glass, I’m going to switch to club soda,” I said.

  “That’s it, I’m going to have to break up with you,” Drew said. “I can’t date a teetotaler.”

  But he grinned and then leaned forward to place an impish kiss on my nose.

  “God, Mother’s on a tear tonight,” Josie, Drew’s younger sister, said. She was short and curvy, with elegant shoulders and luminous skin. Her husband, Todd, had boyish features and a bland personality. So far, after greeting us, he hadn’t said a word.

  “Tell me about it. She told me I was too old to be wearing this dress,” Delia agreed.

  Delia, the youngest sister, was taller and leggier than Josie, and her face had a rubbery, comical quality. I secretly thought her mother had a point about the dress, which was very short, strapless, and skintight. Delia certainly had the body to pull it off—she was thin to the point of gauntness—but it looked like something that had been designed for a teenage girl.

  “You are too old for it,” Josie said bluntly.

  “Bitch,” Delia said without rancor.

  “Girls,” Drew said with mock severity. “Behave.”

  “Anyway, Mother’s just pissed that I didn’t bring a date. I mean, it’s not like I can wave a wand, say a spell, and—poof!—conjure up a boyfriend just to please her,” Delia complained. “And what about me? I’m the one who’s sexually frustrated. I’m at the point where I’m ready to start rubbing up against lampposts.”

  I laughed, and Todd perked up, but the fourth couple at our table—I couldn’t remember their names, but the wife had some distant connection to Josie—looked shocked.

  “You shouldn’t be allowed loose in public,” Josie said, frowning at her younger sister.

  “Like it’s my fault I’m sexually frustrated. But all Mother cares about is how I threw off her table arrangement.” Delia made a vague gesture at the empty seat next to her. “She said that if I had told her ahead of time that I didn’t have a date, she would have arranged for one of the bachelors to sit here. Which, I informed her, was exactly why I didn’t give her the advance warning. The last thing I want is to be forced to talk to some boring, balding guy. Whoops, sorry, Todd,” Delia said, casting a guilty look at her brother-in-law, whose brown hair was noticeably thinning.

  Todd looked up, confused. I had a feeling it was a common state for him. “Huh?”

  “Never mind,” Delia said. She made a face at me and whispered, “He never listens to me.”

  “Maybe that’s because you never stop talking,” Drew teased. Delia stuck her tongue out at him.

  “Keep it up and no one’s going to vote for you,” Delia told him.

  “Vote for you for what?” I asked, not missi
ng the quelling look Drew shot his little sister.

  “Wasn’t I supposed to say anything?” Delia asked. Her brow wrinkled, she looked from Drew to me.

  “Has that ever stopped you before?” Drew retorted.

  “What?” I asked again.

  “Drew’s running for Congress,” Josie informed me with obvious pride.

  It was my turn to stare at Drew. He was running for Congress? Since when? And why was this the first I was hearing of it?

  “I’m only considering it. I haven’t formally decided,” Drew said quickly, casting me an apologetic look. “I was going to talk to you about it. I found out our current congressman, Ken Kramer, is retiring. He’s a close friend of the family.”

  “I know,” I said faintly. “I met him with you.”

  “That’s right. Anyway, he told me that if I run, he’ll throw me his support. Which is pretty significant. He’s very popular.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well…good for you.”

  Yet another lie. I didn’t think it was good. Not at all. To the contrary, I thought it was a terrible idea. First of all, if Drew ran for Congress—and if we continued to see each other—there was no way I could continue to fly under the press’s radar as Lucy Landon. He’d be under scrutiny, and so would I by extension. A new haircut wouldn’t disguise me forever. And second, even if I told Drew the truth about who I was, and he was okay with that, and we somehow stayed together…the brutal truth was, I didn’t like politicians, with their toothy smiles and empty promises. They were a squirrelly, slippery bunch.

  Drew read the distress on my face. “Honestly, I haven’t made a firm decision yet,” he said. “And I’ll tell you as soon as I do.”

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling tightly. Drew reached under the table and squeezed my hand. I hesitated, irritated that I’d had to learn about his political aspirations from his sister. But then, warmed by the affection I saw in his dark eyes, I smiled for real and squeezed his hand back. Still, one realization became uncomfortably clear: I had to tell Drew the truth about who I was. Not now, not here, but tonight if possible.

  “I like this one better than your last girlfriend, Drew,” Delia said bluntly. “But, then, that wouldn’t be hard. Sadie was a real bitch.”

  “Delia,” Drew said warningly, with an apologetic—and somewhat sheepish—glance to me.

  “She’s right, Drew. We never liked Sadie,” Josie concurred. “She wasn’t exactly what you would call warm and fuzzy.”

  “Cold and pointed is more like it,” Delia said. “She was also a gold digger. You’re not a gold digger, are you, Lucy?”

  “Delia!” Drew exclaimed, his eyes widening with anger.

  “There’s no point in asking,” Josie said sensibly. “If she was a gold digger, it’s not like she’d admit it to us.”

  “She has a point,” I said, and despite Drew’s glower at his younger sister—or maybe because of it—I started to giggle.

  The absurdity of this conversation had suddenly hit me. Here I was, worried that they would find out that I was a lottery winner—that I was the infamous Lottery Seductress—while they were wondering if I was just after Drew’s money.

  “Oh, God, she’s coming this way,” Delia said, staring over my shoulder.

  “Who?” Drew asked.

  “Who do you think? Mother!” Delia hissed. She slouched down in her seat, as though hoping she could make herself invisible.

  “And she’s not alone,” Josie commented. “Who are those people she’s dragging after her? The Dunways?”

  Drew glanced behind him. “No, those aren’t the Dunways.”

  “How would you know?” Josie asked scornfully.

  “Because Walter Dunway is a partner at my firm,” Drew said.

  “Oh. Well, I guess you’re probably right,” Josie conceded, rather ungraciously. “So who are they?”

  “Aren’t those the Forresters?” Drew said. “Mom was just talking about them to Lucy.”

  I dropped the fork I was holding. It fell on my plate with the sort of loud, resonating crash that causes all conversation around you to cease, while heads swivel in your direction. I couldn’t confirm this was happening, as I was too horrified to look up. But I could practically feel the weight of dozens of pairs of sharp, judgmental eyes on me.

  “Lucy? Are you okay?” Drew asked, leaning toward me.

  I stared back at him, wondering what would have happened between us if I had just told him the truth from the beginning, back on our first date. Maybe I would never have heard from him again. That was certainly a possibility. But, then again, maybe our relationship would have still had a chance.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, trying to convey all of my regrets into those simple words.

  Drew rubbed my arm. “Don’t look so worried, Lucy. It was just a fork.”

  And before I could say anything else, before I could offer up any last-minute explanations, Drew’s mother was upon us.

  “Hello, everyone,” Adeline said, sweeping up to the table. I recognized her voice, although I hadn’t yet turned around to face her.

  “Hello, Mother,” Josie said. “Nice dress.”

  “Thank you, darling. Drew, do you remember how I was just telling you and Lucy about my friends Owen and Cassie Forrester, who live in Ocean Falls? Well, guess who showed up after all! I didn’t know they were coming, but here they are,” Adeline said.

  Her voice was pleasant, but there was just enough bite in the undertone to make it clear that she did not appreciate guests showing up to her fund-raiser without having properly RSVP’ed. I supposed it played hell with her seating arrangement.

  But Adeline Brooks’s hostessing challenges were the least of my worries, especially as she laid a manicured hand on my bare shoulder and said, “Cassie, Owen, I’d like you to meet Drew’s new girlfriend, Lucy. Lucy hails from your neck of the woods, Cassie.”

  This was it. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer that the Forresters wouldn’t recognize me, and turned to face them. My eyes fell on Owen Forrester first. He was a large, blustery man, his skin pink from the sun and his stomach round from too many steak dinners. His wife, Cassie, was so thin and frail, she looked insubstantial standing next to him. I supposed she was once pretty—Matt had inherited her finely boned, feline looks—but she now had a pallid, unhealthy look about her. And then, as Cassie stared down at me, her face sagged into an expression of horrified shock.

  “You just moved here from Ocean Falls a few weeks ago, isn’t that right, Lucy?” Adeline continued, oblivious to Cassie Forrester’s reaction.

  I don’t know if it was Adeline’s use of my first name without the added Landon to fake her out, or if perhaps Cassie Forrester had memorized the features of my face—the woman who had victimized her son, or so she believed—so that not even a different hairstyle would fool her. But Cassie Forrester knew exactly who I was.

  “You,” she said, her voice a gasp. “You!”

  Owen Forrester hadn’t bothered to look at me—the date of a friend’s son not worth his attention—so he shot a confused look at his wife.

  “Cassie? What’s wrong?” Owen asked.

  “It’s her,” Cassie hissed. “It’s Lucy Parker.”

  Owen did a double take, turning to stare down at me. His thick lips gaped open.

  “Lucy…Parker?” he croaked.

  “No, this is Lucy Landon,” Drew said, standing to properly greet his mother’s friends, although he was clearly confused about why the two of them were looking at me as though I were a giant, hairy rat scampering across the salad plates.

  “I don’t know what lies she’s told you, but that woman is Lucy Parker,” Cassie said, practically spitting the words out. “She’s the teacher who victimized my son!”

  “That woman on the news?” Adeline gasped. “Drew, what’s going on here?”

  Drew was shaking his head in confusion. “I have no idea what any of you are talking about,” he said. He rested a heavy
, supportive hand on my shoulder. “I told you, this is Lucy Landon. I think I would know her name. She is my girlfriend.”

  As much as I appreciated Drew’s defense, I knew the time had finally come to confess. I wished it could have happened some other way—doing this in the middle of a crowded charity ball with his mother, sisters, and Matt Forrester’s parents looking on was hardly ideal. But that was my fault. I hadn’t trusted Drew with the truth. Instead, I’d lied to him over and over again. This was my payback.

  I stood shakily. My face was burning—I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, pounding at my temples—and my limbs felt wooden and too heavy to move. Inhaling deeply, I turned first to Drew, whose hand had slipped from my shoulder to my waist as I stood.

  “She’s right,” I said to him. “My name is Lucy Parker. I lied when I told you it was Lucy Landon.”

  “Why would you do that?” Drew asked, looking utterly bewildered.

  “I’ll tell you why,” Cassie snapped. “It’s because she tried to seduce my son! My teenage son, while he was her student! And she got caught, and the school fired her, and she slunk out of town in disgrace!”

  “What?” Drew said. “But Lucy’s not a teacher.” Then, peering down at me, he asked, “Are you?”

  I nodded. “I was. And she was right about one thing: I was fired.” I turned to Cassie Forrester then, mustering up what dignity I could. “But I never tried to seduce your son. He made that lie up because he was angry over the failing grade I gave him.”

  “Matt would never do that!” Cassie’s voice was shrill with anger.

  “How dare you,” Owen Forrester said, his fists curling at his sides. I wondered if he’d try to hit me and had to force myself not to step away, not to back down.

  “He did lie. And those lies ruined my reputation and my career,” I said. My voice was oddly calm, especially since my stomach was churning so wildly that I thought I might be sick right then and there in the middle of Mar-a-Lago’s Gold & White Ballroom.

  “My son doesn’t lie!” Cassie shrieked.

  “He did about this. And I think if you’re at all honest with yourselves, you know that Matt is a troubled kid,” I said.