“Now, you must tell me,” Audrey said, settling her deck chair a foot closer to hers. “What in God’s name is going on with Wendy?”
The question pulled her up short. Audrey removed her sunglasses to reveal a pair of concerned blue eyes.
“I don’t believe for a minute that Wendy is dealing with a case of food poisoning,” Audrey confessed. “That girl has a stomach of steel. We have a little tradition at Miss Porter’s concerning raw oysters and senior year. I won’t bore you with the gory details, only to say that Wendy set the house record.”
Kelly paused, contemplating. Wendy had shown up at the marina this morning wrapped in a long-sleeved sweater and an ankle-length skirt, looking ashen and twitchy, like she could really use one of the emergency cigarettes she always carried in her purse. The original plan was to have three couples for their day-jaunt on the yacht. Wendy had arrived last, but as Parker hopped off the yacht to greet her, she clutched her midriff and looked as if she were going to be sick right off the edge of the dock.
“I don’t know, Audrey. She looked pretty shaky to me.”
“For weeks, she’s been a wreck.” Audrey settled back on the dock chair, tapping the arm of her sunglasses against her lower lip. “It’s spreading beyond just my notice too. Her mother has been talking about her on the golf course. Our mothers,” Audrey explained, “are part of a regular Thursday foursome. Wendy’s own mother has been complaining that Wendy has been completely unreliable. And frankly, sometimes, Wendy doesn’t answer my calls for days.”
Kelly frowned. She’d been so anxious about the trip on the yacht that she hadn’t given much thought to Wendy’s decision to beg out. Wendy was sick; Kelly took that fact at face value. But now, with Audrey so suspicious, Kelly began to wonder. Maybe Wendy had bowed out of this trip because of her and Trey.
No.
Kelly’s reaction was instinctive. This morning, Wendy had greeted her with a tight hug and then sent a casual wave toward Trey on the boat deck. Wendy had seemed distracted, twitchy, but not because of them. Something else was bothering her.
“The wedding.” Kelly riffled through Wendy’s difficulties with her mother, with seating plans, with the planner, with Birdie. “Wendy says it has been difficult.”
“All weddings are difficult.” Audrey waved the thought away. “Listen, I understand wedding stress. My wedding took place at the yacht club with three hundred and seventy-two guests, and I had to contend not only with my mother, but also with my stepmother-in-law, who we call the Botox Queen. The woman insisted on wearing a tiara.”
“If this were poker,” Kelly said, “Wendy would see your Botox Queen and raise you a Manhattan Wedding Planner.”
“And I’d win that hand, no question—and Wendy would agree. No, it’s not just the wedding. Wendy would say that’s a rich-girl problem. Wendy would shuck that off. It’s something more.”
A teenage boy, sporting a white polo shirt emblazoned with the yacht club logo, suddenly approached from the gloom of the bar galley. He offered them both sweating drinks upon a silver tray. Kelly took a sip of the Sea Breeze, thinking it a far cry from her father’s twice-burned coffee.
“She’s been playing tennis like a fiend,” Audrey continued, setting the glass down on the teak table between them. “She shattered Mrs. Mountebank last week in singles. Now Wendy’s in contention for the championship. It’s…so not Wendy. I had hoped,” she said, “that she’d come on this trip with us. That I could pin her down, try to get to the bottom of it.” Two lines of concern appeared between Audrey’s brows. “Frankly, Kelly, I was hoping you could shed some light.”
“Me?”
Audrey twirled a lock of hair around her finger, while staring at her bracelet with great attention. “Wendy’s very loyal, you know. She really makes an effort to see me, even though I’ve got a husband and a family now. It was kind of her to choose me as her matron of honor, and I can’t tell you how excited I am about the bachelorette party at the Wainwright cabin next weekend. I’m so glad Wendy offered it as an option—so much better than holding it in some sleazy Hamptons club.” She dropped her ponytail and lifted her drink, bracing it on her clearly Pilates-toned belly. “But though we both agreed on that…I know that Wendy and I aren’t nearly as close now as we used to be at Miss Porter’s. She spends most of her time with you guys—you, and Dhara, and Martha.”
“Marta.”
“Yes. Marta.” Audrey gave her a wistful little smile. “You three, you’re really her best friends. You’re the people she talks about. So I’d hoped you had some inkling about what is going on with her, and maybe you could clue me in.”
Kelly looked toward the swiftly shrinking shoreline, both flattered at Audrey’s observation and chagrinned at it, because beyond the stress of the coming wedding, Kelly didn’t really have a clue what was bothering Wendy. It was true that there had been a lot going on among their little group these past six weeks. Dhara announcing her arranged marriage had been a shock, as had Marta’s breakup with Carlos. Cole’s hospital visit and rehab stint had been another surprise, as was her own outing of this relationship with Trey.
In any case, that was all family business, in a manner of speaking. Kelly wasn’t sure she could share any of this with Audrey. Then she looked past Audrey’s designer glasses, plumping lip gloss, and perfectly lined eyes to the very serious woman, clearly deeply concerned about their mutual friend.
“Frankly, Audrey, it feels weird talking about Wendy to you.”
“I know what you mean.” Audrey’s nose crinkled mischievously. “Talking about her makes you feel vaguely guilty, like she could arrive any moment, and we’d be caught.”
“Why do you think it’s like that?”
“Because Wendy is the most private person I know. Generous to a fault. Always there when I need her. But sometimes, I think Wendy’s afraid to really open herself up to anyone.”
A good half hour later, Audrey apologized as the children tumbled down from the wheelhouse and dragged their mother out of the sun for a long-promised game of Chinese checkers. Kelly had already regaled Audrey with one particular night she, Wendy, Dhara, and Marta had shared senior year in Aruba, and Audrey had started in on a story about Wendy when she was captain of the field hockey team. As Audrey’s children dragged her by the hand into the galley, Audrey, with a roll of her eyes, promised to give further details once little ears weren’t around.
Kelly took the opportunity to strike out for the head, thinking that if Trey’s other friends were half as sweet as Audrey, then the unveiling of her and Trey’s relationship wouldn’t be half as traumatic as she’d feared.
She slipped into the main area of the boat, gliding past the galley where the young helper was laying out tiny sandwiches and trays of summer salad. She sidled into the bathroom, expecting a confined space, only to find a granite-topped vanity, a huge mirror, and a glass-enclosed shower big enough to include a seat. It was bigger than the bathroom in her apartment.
And had about the same amount of privacy, she thought, as she did her business amid the sound of Trey’s laugh and then the clipped vowels of Parker’s familiar voice. Some quirk of architecture made their voices echo from the wheelhouse to this room.
As she washed her hands, she paused, catching the sound of her name.
“Oh, Kelly’s cute, Trey, no doubt about it,” James said. “Especially for that type.”
“You mean redheads?” That was Parker’s voice, and it was accompanied by a hissing noise, as if he were drawing air through his teeth. “That’s a new one for you, Trey. I always thought Kelly was hot. My compliments.”
Kelly smiled a little, drying her hands on a plush towel, warming to Parker.
“Yeah, nice curves,” James added, “but you better watch yourself, bro.”
She stilled.
“Watch myself?” Trey said. “Watch myself how?”
“I’m just saying. You have to be careful. With a girl like that. Brought up like that.”
Trey made a dismissive noise. “You’re just pissed she knew what a davit was.”
“Did you see her face when she looked at these controls? She lit up. The girl has never seen such a boat, and she grew up on the water. Total working-class, that Kelly of yours.”
Damn right. Kelly didn’t think she liked James all that much. He’d rubbed her the wrong way, showing irritation when he couldn’t tell her the fuel capacity of the boat, brushing off her other questions with a roll of his eyes.
“I’m just saying,” James continued, “that you have to think about this. She’s not like that girl you dated last year—what was her name?”
“Muffy Stonebridge,” Parker said, his voice full of wonder. “Ferocious butt, hair down to her knees.”
The warmth she felt for Parker cooled a bit.
“Well, Muffy’s family’s got money in minerals,” James said. “She’s not looking for more. But this girl of yours? She’s looking at you and all she’s seeing is dollar signs, bro.”
“No, no, you’ve got her all wrong.”
“Listen,” James persisted, “I know you like variety. I still remember that Lebanese girl you bagged at that bar in the Hamptons last summer.”
Oh, Kelly really didn’t like James. She wondered what the good-hearted Audrey saw in him, and what could possibly have brought them together.
“Oh God, yes,” Parker exclaimed. “You get all the luck.”
“Yeah,” James added, “Trey likes to slum. He likes ’em dirty.”
Anger, like a shower of sparks, prickled down upon her.
“Hey, easy, James,” Parker warned. “Remember, Kelly is Wendy’s friend. One of her bridesmaids.”
“What? Jesus, Trey, you’ve got to be kidding me.” James’s chair squealed as it swiveled. “Never fuck one of your sister’s friends.”
Trey’s protest—Shut up, James—sounded strangely muffled.
“What the hell are you thinking?” James continued. “There’s nothing wrong with banging a redhead. But why are you bringing that kind of girl here?”
Then Kelly pressed against the granite countertop, waiting for Trey’s response in the silence, and in that silence, she imagined him pushing out of his seat in the wheelhouse, his hands tightening into fists, debating whether it was bad form to punch the host. She waited, not expecting Trey to give a long speech on how much fun they had together, or how he felt like himself when he was around her, or how he stole time, even from work, to be in her company. She waited for Trey to give James a good knock in the teeth for being such an asshole.
She waited, her knuckles going white on the countertop.
She waited, her heart pounding in her ears.
She waited.
“Fuck, guys,” Trey muttered. “Just show me how much power this boat has, okay?”
Kelly stood alone at the bow as the wind whipped her hair off her face. The yacht raced across the sound, shattering a path through the wakes of lesser boats. She gripped the railing, her knees loose to ride the gentle heave and ho. She welcomed the occasional spray, a physical manifestation of a cold slap of reality.
Trey was still in the wheelhouse above her. She knew he could see her through the Plexiglas. That’s why she’d planted herself here. Eventually, she reasoned, he would slither away from his so-called friends and join her.
“Hey.” He arrived later than she expected, slipping one hand along the railing. “Aren’t you cold out here?”
“No. I like the speed.” She fixed her gaze on the far horizon rather than the sight of his polo shirt battered against his six-pack. “It makes me think of time travel.”
Trey’s laugh hitched in surprise.
“It’s conceivable, you know.” She tugged a strand of hair off her face. “Based on velocity, if you look at time dilation in special relativity a one-way trip to the future is possible.”
He leaned a hip against the rail in an effort to catch her gaze. “Someday, I hope I actually understand you, Kell.”
“The real problem is traveling to the past. Theoretically possible, but there are all kinds of tricky paradoxes.”
“Bummer.”
“And that’s what I’d really want to do—return to the past.” She gripped the rail as the boat took a sudden dip. “To one particular day in college when I was sitting by myself on a pub stool, waiting for my friends.”
She saw the smile lines at the edges of his eyes deepen as he remembered. Then those wrinkles smoothed, as he grew uncertain of her mood.
“You know what I’d tell that girl, Trey? I’d tell her to keep waiting for her friends.” She began to tremble, and not from the cold. “I’d tell that girl that the hot guy approaching her from across the room was a weak-assed, sniveling, grade-A fuckup.”
She seized the fluttering ends of her gossamer cover-up and yanked them across her body. Fury made her shake. Fury that she hadn’t ended this relationship the way she’d intended to—sweetly, softly, at the hotel when the moment was ripe. Fury at what a fool she’d been in the first place, for not listening to her friends. And most of all, fury at him, for his failure, over fifteen years, to grow a spine.
He froze, blanching to the color of his polo shirt. His gaze skittered to the wheelhouse.
“Yeah, this is me talking, Trey. Working-class Kelly Palazzo, the gold digger who’s banging you for your money.”
He shifted his weight and turned his attention to a small puddle of seawater beading on the deck. “You were in the head.”
“The acoustics are damn good. Your friend James is a real charmer.”
“I’m sorry you overheard him.”
“I’m not. I’m glad I heard all of it. If I hadn’t, I would never have believed that you’d let a friend cut off your balls like that.”
“Hey, hey—”
“What? Did you forget I’m a fisherman’s daughter?” She jerked her chin in the direction of the wheelhouse. “Go back to James. He’ll remind you.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. He folded his arms. His throat worked as if he were swallowing his own temper. “I know he’s an asshole. But he was looking out for me.”
“You’re freakin’ kidding me.”
“You don’t think that doesn’t happen?” He leaned in to her. “You think there haven’t been situations where I’m ass-over-tit for some girl who’s thinking of nothing but my money?”
Kelly remembered Wendy and Josef in college. In her head, she acknowledged that the situation could cut both ways. It didn’t make her heart feel any better. “So when James called you out on those other relationships, did you argue with him?”
“Of course I did.”
“Then clearly you’re not ass-over-tit for me. You didn’t say a word in my defense.”
“Fuck, I did!”
“I heard everything—”
“James is a bulldog.” He cast an angry glare toward the wheelhouse. “He’s a damn brick wall. He’ll argue a point until he’s three blood-pressure points from blowing an artery. Even if he’s wrong—especially if he’s wrong.”
“Oh, so he’s wrong?”
“Of course he’s wrong.” He jabbed a finger in his chest. “I know that. You know that—”
“How the hell am I supposed to know that? You just let your best friend piss all over me.”
“You’re blowing this all out of proportion.”
“Like hell I am.” In the wheelhouse, Kelly noticed three curious faces pressed close to the window, one of them Audrey, covering her mouth with her hand. Their voices were carrying, and Kelly worried, fleetingly, about the kids, so she lowered her voice a notch. “Do you have any idea what kind of shit storm I battled when I told my friends the news about us? Do you have any idea how hard it was to defend myself? Do you know how much I defended you?”
“That’s different—”
“It’s the same. Freakin’. Thing.”
“You don’t have a clue what it’s like—”
“I understand that you’re ashamed of me.”
>
“Fuck, Kelly—”
“I understand more than that too.” Her heart pounded in her ears. “I understand that despite all my hopes, you are the same heartless screwup that you were in college. Except this time you’re stuck under a different alpha male’s hairy thumb.”
His pupils contracted to pinpricks. The yacht had slowed from its headlong race but it still bobbed in the wake of other boats. She braced her legs, riding the rock, while he came right up to her, close enough so she could smell the sunscreen she’d slathered on his skin that morning.
He spoke straight into her face. “You want the truth, Kelly?”
“That would be refreshing.”
“I don’t give a damn what James thinks. I don’t give a damn what James says. We’re here together. You and me. That means something. I don’t know what else you want from me.”
She searched his eyes. She waited for something more. She waited for the phrase she’d yearned to hear since the very first night they shared together, the declaration she’d gambled her heart, her hopes, and her future to win. She needed to hear that truth now. Spoken loud and clear on the bow of a boat on the open water, a phrase that the wind would wrap tight around her heart and then carry in glorious victory all the way to the wheelhouse.
She waited, her heart pounding.
She waited.
And then she waited no more.
“I’m done with you, Trey Wainwright.” She turned on one heel. “I’m done with you for good.”
chapter sixteen
Her cell phone rang again.
Wendy perched in the corner of the couch, her toes digging into the leather. The blinds of her condo were shuttered. Thin stripes of daylight stretched across the floor. Hugging a pillow, she stared at the phone rattling on the coffee table.
Then it stopped ringing.
One Good Friend Deserves Another Page 20