“Promise. And neither will our baby.”
***
Alone on the fourth floor, Mr. and Mrs. Preston Phillips were having a marital spat. Having no clue that he had behaved boorishly throughout the evening, Preston had climbed the three flights of stairs feeling good about himself. He was sure Margo still had feelings for him, and he had to admit, he was still attracted to her. He had enjoyed the attention of Kitty Kelley, too. I’ve still got what it takes to attract a woman, he thought with a grin. And I rather enjoy aggravating the men, as well.
“What are you smiling at?” Nicole asked.
Her tone pierced Preston’s reverie. He had been expecting her to fall right into his arms. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Preston. I’ve been watching you with your friends all night. Frankly, I think you’ve made a fool of yourself.”
“And how do you think I’ve made a fool of myself, Miss Expert? A few months of marriage and you think you know me and my friends that well?”
“Totally. I know enough to know there’s something going on between you and that Margo, and the others either detest you or barely tolerate you. I may not have been around for the back story, but I’m not blind.” Nicole sat at the dressing table and stared at her husband in the mirror.
Preston returned her stare in the mirror, aiming for sincerity. “There’s nothing going on with Margo and me. I haven’t seen her in forty years, for God’s sake.”
“Oh, yeah. Then what were you two doing for fifteen minutes when you both went upstairs?”
Preston turned away from the mirror, pacing. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come this weekend. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Answer my question. What were you and Margo doing?” Nicole’s voice rose in pitch, as if she were about to cry.
“Keep your voice down. We weren’t doing anything. We were talking. We are old friends.”
“You could talk to your old friends all night long, right in front of everyone. You didn’t have to leave the table to follow that old hag. I asked you not to leave me alone with these people, but I never dreamed you would go off pussy-chasing. I’m mortified.” She stood and paced around the room, brandishing her hairbrush.
“I’m not going to apologize to you, Nicole, because I didn’t do anything wrong. I love you, and I married you. End of story. Now let’s go to bed.”
“Don’t think this is the end of this discussion, Preston. If you do one more thing to upset me this weekend, you’ll live to regret it.” Nicole’s voice trailed off at the end of the threat, as Preston grabbed her from behind, both hands sliding smoothly into the front of her panties. Annoyed as she was with him, her first impulse was to push her husband away. On the other hand, this was how she and Preston communicated best. She moved against him, signaling that the argument was over, and the making up was underway. Let them eat their hearts out, she thought. Preston Phillips belongs to me.
“Mmmph,” Preston groaned into her ear, feeling the full effect of the blue pill he had taken earlier. “Don’t worry. You’re the only woman I need, baby.”
***
Left alone in her bedroom on the second floor, Margo looked out the window at the snowy landscape, her thoughts in turmoil. She didn’t know what she had expected when she agreed to accompany Libby to this party, but she never expected this. Seeing Preston, hearing his voice, it cut through the layers of insulation she had protected herself with all of these years. While married to Roberto, it was easy to bury the bad memories of Preston’s abandonment, but since divorcing Roberto, Margo was feeling vulnerable and lonely. In this state, seeing Preston, it felt as if the small pilot light in her deepest recesses had ignited into full flame.
It’s his confidence, she decided. More than his looks or his words. He is so sure of himself, so comfortable in his skin, that he intrudes into my skin, my body, my mind, taking them over completely. It’s dangerous. I simply cannot let myself be dazzled by his charms again
Margo punched her pillow and placed it where she thought it would soothe her into slumber, but this was a night that sleep would elude her. I never expected Preston to follow me upstairs. And apologize so earnestly. And try to assert himself so urgently back into my life. On the one hand, her mental filters were ready to send Preston’s words to the spam folder. On the other hand, his flattery, his attention--it was all so overwhelming. Admit it, Margo, she thought miserably, you still want him.
“No, You. Don’t,” she blurted aloud. Her head was aching with the sound of warning bells so loud it was surprising the whole house couldn’t hear them.
“You okay?” Libby called from across the shared bathroom.
“Yeah, fine, baby sister. I’ll be just fine.”
Chapter 8
The next morning the snow had ceased, and what remained had created a fairyland of Bucolia. The ground was sparkling from the early rays of the sun, and the white carpet erased any hint of imperfection in the landscape. The tree branches and stables were etched with white, as if a confectioner had outlined them with sugar frosting.
Inside, the birthday party guests awoke to smells of coffee, eggs, and Canadian bacon from the kitchen. One or two at a time, starting with Nicole and Preston, they drifted downstairs to re-convene, eat, and make plans for the day. Kitty and Caro laughed as Margo joined the group wearing the same heather tweed color from the Ralph Lauren collection they both had on. “Great minds shop alike,” Margo said. “Shall I go upstairs and change clothes?”
Vicki and Leon were the last to come downstairs. Neither looked as if they had slept well. Vicki’s expensive makeup worked wonders on minimizing the shadows beneath her eyes, but the puffiness from too much alcohol defied coverage. Leon poured two mugs of black coffee and handed one to Vicki, as he offered her the chair at the table next to Julia. “I’ll sit at the counter,” he said, perching his designer jeans-clad bottom next to Nicole. “How’re the eggs?” he asked.
“Fine,” Nicole answered, lost in thoughts about last night. She pushed her eggs around on her plate.
John E. suggested a morning ride for anyone who wanted to see the farm on horseback. He stabled more than a dozen horses to choose from, ranging in ages from three to eight, both mares and stallions. Neither Marshall, Gerald, Les, nor Leon considered themselves equestrians, at least not to the degree that John E. and Stan Baker did, but they were all game to enjoy a few hours of riding in the brisk, clean air at the farm. They all had brought riding clothes just in case.
“How about you ladies?” John E. asked, pausing to sip from his steaming coffee mug. “We have some smooth riders, and I know Andrea will be joining us on the trails.”
Caro interrupted. “Ladies, don’t feel you have to go horseback riding. I’ll be doing some shopping in Kennett Square this morning, and I’d be glad to take any of you with me. There are some great antique stores and art galleries, as well as unique gift shops. We’ll all meet for lunch at Longwood Gardens, regardless of what you choose to do this morning.”
“I don’t think I should go horseback riding,” Libby said, touching her abdomen. “My doctor told me to be careful with high impact sports during the first trimester.”
“I’ll stay with you and Libby,” said Margo.
“Me, too,” said Julia. “It will give us a chance to catch up.”
“Well, I’m not going to miss out on the college nostalgia trip,” said Kitty, glancing at Gerald.
Everyone looked at Nicole to see what she would choose, since she seemed not to fit into either group. Panic flickered across her face as she seemed to consider, but finally, she put her arm through Preston’s. “I’ll go riding.”
***
The day couldn’t have been more perfect. The group of seven from the farmhouse joined up with the Bakers, and the nine riders and their mounts made a striking picture as they trotted on the wintry landscape. The horses stepped lively, seeming as happy as the people to breathe the clean air and hear the rhythmic clopping of horsesho
es on fresh snow. The trail was picturesque with evergreens and snow-laden tree branches on either side.
Andrea, looking almost regal in her DJ Bennett riding clothes, was enjoying her time with Mustafa, her favorite horse. She was so glad to have escaped Bucolia last night after the heavy meal and conversation. She would never say anything to Stan about his colleagues, but she found the men tiresome and the women insipid. It’s not that I’m a snob, she argued with herself, but these people really get on my nerves. Instead of being grateful for all they have, they vie for attention like third-graders trying to win the spelling bee. And, we get to enjoy another round of it again tonight.
“Andrea,” Nicole called out, interrupting her thoughts, “does it seem like my horse is having trouble?”
The two women had fallen behind the men. Nicole’s horse, Sally Ride, was bringing up the rear and trotting with a slightly jerky side-to-side motion.
Andrea circled back. She could tell Sally Ride was uncomfortable. This was the horse Caro usually rode when she and Andrea went out together, so Andrea was quite familiar with her gait. “I think we’d better go back to the stables. We can get a different horse for you to ride today.”
“Won’t I fall behind Preston, though?” Nicole said, her voice a bit shaky.
“She’s not acting the way she usually does,” Andrea warned. “I’d take her back if I were you.”
Nicole tried calling out to Preston, but the men had galloped too far ahead, and her voice vanished in the cold air. “Let’s try to catch up to the guys,” she said, the sound of panic cutting through her words. “I don’t know why Preston let his horse get so far ahead of us.”
Sally Ride had slowed to a near halt, and Mustafa was stamping his front hooves, eager to go ahead on the trail.
Despite her desire to let the horse go full throttle, Andrea’s better judgment said Nicole shouldn’t be left alone with a skittish horse. “Listen,” she said. “The men are a good quarter mile ahead of us. We’ll never catch up to them now. Let’s go back and get another horse for you, and then we can all have a good ride.”
As Nicole was deciding what to do, a pair of deer pranced into the path from a clump of bushes, startling both horses and riders. Sally Ride let forth a neighing shriek and reared, tossing Nicole onto the packed snow. Oblivious to the havoc she had wreaked, the horse began to gallop back toward the stables with the reins flying out behind her.
Nicole’s scream of pain sliced the air.
Andrea calmed Mustafa and dismounted, adrenalin guiding her actions. She tied the horse’s reins to a tree and rushed to Nicole’s side. Andrea could tell from the torsion of Nicole’s booted ankle that it was broken. She must have twisted it in the stirrup as she was thrown from the horse. Her body was curled in pain, her right shoulder and hip having borne the brunt of the fall, as well.
“You’ll be okay,” Andrea said to calm Nicole, hoping that this was true. Nicole was gasping and sobbing uncontrollably. Andrea pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket and quickly called her stable manager. “A guest has been thrown from her horse. We’re in the northeast quadrant of the Campbells’ trails, several yards from the large sycamore trees. Call the paramedics, please. And is there someone who can come to take Mustafa back to the stables for me?”
Her next call was to Stan. She had no way of knowing Preston’s phone number, and asking Nicole didn’t seem to be a good option. Stan could notify Preston and send him back to help his wife. Her heart beat in her ears as Andrea listened to the phone ringing. After five rings, Stan’s voicemail message came on, and Andrea hung up. Hopefully, Stan would see her missed call and call back. Andrea knew better than to try to move Nicole. Instead, she tried to comfort her. She crouched next to her, moving bits of dead foliage and dirty ice from her hair and mouth, murmuring words, hoping help would come soon. Surely the guys have noticed by now that we aren’t following them on the trail, she thought. Preston should be here with Nicole, not me.
“Take a deep breath,” Andrea coached, remembering her Lamaze from years ago. Nicole was gulping small bits of air at such a rapid rate that Andrea feared she would lose consciousness. “Deep breath,” she repeated.
Soon the sobs softened to moans, and Nicole stopped hyperventilating. Meanwhile, her right ankle was swelling visibly through the soft leather of her boot. Andrea knew the boot should come off, would likely have to be cut off, but she would not dare to remove it.
What seemed like an eternity was only fifteen minutes, when two paramedics and Andrea’s stable manager came into view in an all-terrain vehicle. The stable manager had met the paramedics at the nearest road and transported them to the trail in the Bakers’ farm vehicle. The truck scrunched to a halt several yards from the women.
“Thank you, Jeff,” Andrea cried with relief.
The paramedics jumped out and ran over to minister to Nicole, examining her pupils and taking her blood pressure.
Jeff, the stable manager, took Andrea’s arm by the elbow, asking if she was okay, as he moved to untie Mustafa’s reins. He patted the faithful horse.
“I’m fine,” Andrea replied, “but I think Mrs. Phillips may have a broken ankle. Her horse was spooked by some deer, threw her, and took off. The mare is probably back at the Campbells’ by now.”
Andrea startled as Nicole howled, “Ohhh, ohhh, ow. You’re killing me.” The paramedics were moving her to a stretcher, and the slightest jostle drew fresh screams. “Call Preston,” she shrieked. “I need Preston.”
“I’ll take care of calling her husband,” Andrea offered. “You can ride Mustafa back home,” she said to Jeff, “and I’ll go in the truck with the paramedics and Mrs. Phillips.” She dashed back to Nicole, finding a way to remove the cell phone from Nicole’s back pants pocket without interfering with the paramedics’ work.
Before she could make the call, the sound of horses’ hooves distracted her. That will be Stan and the rest of the guys, she dared to hope. As she looked up through the bare branches of the trees, she exhaled, tears stinging her eyes.
“Uh oh, there’s been an accident,” she heard Stan call out loud. “Preston, it’s Nicole.”
***
Within seconds, the seven men galloped to the spot, halted their horses, and dismounted. Preston ran over to Nicole, who was being carried on the stretcher to the truck, her boot cut from her foot, and her right side supported by ice packs.
“Preston,” she cried. “I need you, Preston.”
“It’s going to be all right, baby,” Preston answered, trying to hide his annoyance. I should have known better than to bring Nicole out here. She doesn’t know anything about riding a horse, he thought. And I don’t do well with ‘needy.’ “We’ll get you to the hospital, and they’ll fix you up.”
“I think I’m going to pass out,” Nicole whined. “It really, really hurts.”
“You need to be strong, Nicole. For your own good.”
Andrea walked alongside the stretcher. “I’ll go with you to the hospital. I know most of the staff there, and you’ll be well taken care of.”
John E., perhaps feeling that his birthday celebration was crumbling before his eyes, took charge. “Men, let’s ride back to my stables, and I’ll rush Preston to the hospital. If we hurry, we can get there almost as fast as the ambulance. Then the rest of us will meet up with the ladies and take it from there.” As he mounted his stallion, he muttered aloud, “There goes my party. Unless it’s a simple fracture, this’ll put a damper on the rest of the weekend.”
Chapter 9
After two hours of intense shopping in the high end antique stores, the ladies had been glad to get off their feet at 1906, the restaurant at Longwood Gardens. “Mmm, it smells wonderful in here,” Caro commented, “cilantro, I believe. I must be hungry after all that shopping.”
Julia rubbed her foot. “Remind me not to wear high heels next time.”
“Right, and remind me not to wear clothes at all,” Caro said, laughing. “You never set foot out of your h
ouse without high heels, Miss New York.”
“Remember when you did that Miss New York parody at our rehearsal dinner?” Kitty reminded Julia. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard.”
Julia re-crossed her long legs, her black Christian Loubutin pump hanging daintily from her instep. “Well, it lightened up the tension between you and Gerald’s mother at the time. I remember that.”
Kitty rolled her eyes and examined her five-carat diamond ring. “I think that may have been the first time Gerald’s mother realized that I was a real human being with nice friends and a sense of humor and not just a gold digger with hooks into her baby.”
“How is Gerald’s mother, by the way?” asked Vicki.
“Amazingly well, living in Sarasota with her third husband. Each time she’s married, she’s increased her portfolio, so who turned out to be the gold digger, I ask you?”
“Speaking of gold diggers, do you think that’s why Nicole married Preston?” Julia asked.
“Let’s not even go there,” Libby said quickly, glancing at Margo.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Caro said, as she dug into her Louis Vuitton shopping bag. “I bought a little baby gift for you, Libby.” She pulled out a square package with a pompon of frizzy yellow ribbon on top.
“How thoughtful,” Libby said. She opened the gift wrapping to find a Sterling silver drinking cup. “Baby Bloom’s first gift. Pretty exciting to picture our baby drinking from it.”
“What else did everyone buy this morning?” Margo asked. The ladies had shipped most of their purchases home, so the “show and tell” became just a “tell.”
For the next few minutes, everyone enumerated their purchases, everyone but Vicki, who pasted a smile on her face and listened absent-mindedly, gazing out the windows at the winter landscape.
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