“Do you know where you’re going?” she asked as he started the engine.
“I already programmed Martha.”
“Martha?”
He laughed. “Right before I came out here, I got my GPS installed, and the first destination I put into it was for Martha’s Vineyard. So I named it Martha.”
She laughed too. “Okay, Martha, lead us on.”
Janice made pleasant small talk about her recent trip to Boston, car shopping, her most interesting legal case, as well as some political name dropping, which mostly went right past him. But he nodded and made the appropriate small talk responses back to her.
“I’m afraid we’re going to be a little late,” he said. Although that was an exaggeration, since according to Martha, they were running ninety minutes late. And he remembered how Janice liked to be prompt and on time, or so she’d said before.
“Fashionably late,” she assured him.
Surprised at her nonchalance, he just nodded. Although he knew it wasn’t good manners to be early or even on time to most parties, he also knew that an hour and a half was a little beyond fashionable too. Still, it wasn’t like he’d wanted to come tonight anyway. For all he cared, they could be three hours late. Except that he wanted to see Waverly. If only briefly. Although he’d do whatever he could, within the confines of good manners, to be sure it was more than that.
“Looks like this is it,” he said as he turned into the long driveway of what looked like a very impressive estate.
“Valet parking,” she pointed out. “Too bad we didn’t bring my car.”
He didn’t respond to that as he pulled up under the portico, got out, handed the valet his keys, then went around to open the door for Janice. “Here we are,” he said in a stiff voice. As he walked her toward the stately house, he felt certain that both Sicily and Janice were right—he was underdressed. He gave their names to the security guard in front, saying they were friends of Reggie Martin, and for a moment, as the guy searched his list, Blake wondered if they were even going to get in. He actually hoped they wouldn’t.
“Have a nice evening,” the security guy told them as he nodded to the doorman to let them in.
“I hope we’re not too late,” he muttered as he and Janice went into the elegant home. Marble floors, oriental carpets, sculptures, art—everything suggested money, old money. He couldn’t help but notice that Janice, in her formal cocktail dress, appeared to fit in perfectly with the décor.
Then, to his relief, he observed a few other guests milling about inside the house, and they were dressed very similar to him. Blake continued on through the foyer and into a large room, where he pointed to a wall of enormous glass doors that completely opened to the outdoor living area beyond. Out there some happy calypso music was playing. Colorful outdoor lights reflected over the satin surface of a sapphire-blue pool, and white-clothed tables were filled with food. Guests dressed a lot like Blake mingled and talked.
“Looks like we found it,” he said as he led her outside to where the party was in full swing.
“Am I overdressed?” she hissed in his ear.
He shrugged. “Not for the red carpet.”
She shot a dark look his way.
He was about to make his way to the food, since he was quite hungry, when an attractive brunette walked toward him. He could tell by her expression she recognized him, and although she was familiar, he couldn’t quite place her.
“Blake Erickson!” She came close and air-kissed him. “Fancy meeting you here in my old stomping grounds.”
Suddenly he remembered she was a fairly new but up-and-coming actress in one of the films he worked on last year. A supporting role with Scarlett Johansson in the lead. Stella Something.
“Stella,” he said, still trying to recall her last name, “so great to see you. You look lovelier than ever.” He introduced her to Janice.
“What are you working on?” Stella asked him. “Anything exciting?”
So he explained his early retirement plan.
“You’re kidding?” she said. “You live here full-time?”
He nodded. “I’m still a Vineyard newbie, but so far so good. In fact, I’m enjoying it immensely.”
She turned to Janice. “And you live here too?”
Janice laughed. “No. I wouldn’t survive long here. More than a couple of weeks in this place and I might go into a coma. Really, I’m a city girl at heart.”
Stella glanced at Janice’s dress. “Yes, I can see that.” She turned back to Blake now, telling him about a new project she would be starting in the fall. “I wish you were working on it. You’re the best.”
“Thanks, but for now I’m enjoying this slower pace.”
“How do you know Belinda?” Stella asked. “Did you do a film with her?”
“I haven’t met Belinda. A friend of hers invited us here tonight. Do you know Reggie Martin?”
“Oh, I’ve known Reggie for years.” Stella lowered her voice. “Isn’t this house spectacular? It’s been in Belinda’s family for years. We used to spend summers here as kids. I still love coming out here with her for a few weeks.” She pointed to a pretty blond coming their way. “Speak of the devil.” Then Stella introduced them to their hostess, Belinda Vale.
“Sorry to be so late,” Blake told Belinda. “Looks like a great party.”
Belinda waved her hand. “Oh, that’s okay. Although I think the lobster’s pretty picked over now. But there are plenty of other goodies.” She peered curiously at them, particularly at Janice, who stood out like a sore thumb in her bright red sparkly dress. Blake suspected that Belinda, too polite to say it, was trying to place who they were and why they were here.
“Reggie invited Blake,” Stella explained.
“Oh, that’s great. Reggie’s friends are my friends.” Belinda grinned at Blake. “I meet more new Vineyard people through dear old Reggie.”
“Blake has another connection to you too,” Stella told her. “He’s a retired filmographer.” She even listed some of Blake’s projects. “But can you believe he left Hollywood for Martha’s Vineyard?”
Belinda nodded in a way that suggested she understood. “Someday I’ll be here permanently too.”
“Not me,” Janice said curtly. “This little island is far too claustrophobic for my taste.”
“And what do you do?” Belinda politely asked her.
Janice explained she was a Boston attorney. “But I’m also in the senate race this year. You may have heard of my father, the late Vance Grant?”
Belinda looked slightly surprised. “That was your father?”
“Yes.” Janice nodded with pride. “I hope to follow in his political footsteps. As my campaign says, it’s time for a change.”
“Oh, well, good luck to you with that. Personally, I try to avoid political discussions, but I’ll warn you that some of my guests are…uh, let’s just say not so neutral.”
“Yes, I’m well aware that many of my opponents think of Martha’s Vineyard as their haven.” Janice laughed. “Is that why they call it Vineyard Haven?”
“I don’t know about that. I think it has more to do with the harbor and boats—you know, a safe haven.” Belinda made a polite smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” But before she left, she glanced curiously at Blake, as if she wondered about his connections with Janice Grant. As if he didn’t question them himself.
Stella was introducing them to various acquaintances when Blake spotted Reggie and Waverly. But it was Waverly who caught his eye. Although he made congenial small talk with the middle-aged couple whom Stella said, among other things, “were close friends of the Clintons,” most of his attention was on Waverly. She looked amazing, like a sea goddess, in a breezy sort of sundress in aquamarine colors. He wished he could photograph her.
“You’re Vance Grant’s daughter?” the woman was saying to Janice. “Really?”
Janice laughed lightly. “Yes, I’m sure it seems incongruous for me to be here, but I like to think o
f myself as politically tolerant.”
“Am I correct to assume you are your father’s daughter when it comes to politics as well?” the man asked with a concerned expression.
And so Janice, acting as if she were making a campaign speech, began to espouse some of her opinions, which it was plain to see this couple did not share. Though he was impressed by her commitment to her political convictions, Blake winced inwardly. This just didn’t feel like the right atmosphere for this discussion.
Before her captive audience had a chance to respond, Blake stepped in. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said to the slightly startled looking couple. “But if you’ll excuse me, I see a friend.” Then, without even glancing at Janice, he made his getaway. If she wanted to get embroiled in some political brouhaha, let her. Just because he brought her here tonight didn’t mean he had to endure her idea of “socializing.”
“Hello, friends,” he said to Waverly and Reggie. “I’ve just made a run for my life.”
“What’s going on?” Waverly asked.
“Your cousin, my date, thinks she’s on the campaign trail. Or maybe it’s the warpath.”
“She’s talking politics here?” Waverly looked over to where several people were conversing in a rather animated way with Janice.
“Unfortunately.” He gave Reggie a sympathetic look. “I hope Belinda doesn’t hold this against your friendship, although it sounded as if you and she are fairly tight.”
“Belinda’s a peach.” Reggie shook his head. “But that Janice…she’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?”
“I have to give her credit,” Blake admitted. “She is courageous.”
“That’s true.” Waverly nodded. “I still remember when we were kids, and she tried to eat a bee.”
“She ate a bee?” Reggie made a face.
“First she dared me to eat one,” Waverly explained. “I said no way. But Janice kept bragging that she’d done it before—lots of times. Naturally, I didn’t believe her, and I told her so. So, to prove me wrong, she caught a honeybee in a Dixie cup and actually put the poor bee in her mouth.” She started laughing now. “It stung her on the bottom lip, and she let out this bloodcurdling scream that most of Boston must’ve heard.”
“So Janice Grant was like the pioneer of lip injections?” Reggie said, making them all laugh even harder.
Waverly’s eyes sparkled as she continued. “You should’ve seen her bottom lip swell up. Honestly, it got as big as a hotdog.”
“Did you get photos?” Blake asked,
Waverly was laughing hard now. “I called her Hotdog Lips until she told her dad, and he made me stop.”
“Hotdog Lips!” Reggie let out a howl of laughter. “I might need to remember that one if she keeps harassing Belinda’s guests.”
Blake glanced over to where Janice still appeared to be holding court with an irritated audience. “Do you think I should go over there and rescue her?” he asked Waverly.
“Rescue Janice?” Waverly grimly shook her head. “You obviously do not know my cousin as well as I thought you did.”
He didn’t admit that was not only true but fortunate as well.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Waverly knew she shouldn’t feel responsible for Janice’s bad manners at Belinda’s party, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty as the political discussion, aided by the influence of intoxicants, grew louder.
“Should I do something?” Waverly asked Reggie. “Since we are sort of your guests here tonight?”
“Hey, if your cuz wants to hang herself, politically speaking, why not let her?” Reggie laughed, then finished the last of his drink. Waverly was trying not to count, but she felt certain this was his third one—and it worried her.
“Not that any of these people are her constituents anyway,” Blake pointed out.
“No, I wouldn’t think so,” Waverly agreed. “Even if they lived in Janice’s region, they’re clearly not in her party. I just hope Belinda isn’t too offended by her.”
“Anybody else want a drink?” Reggie held up his empty glass.
“No thanks,” Waverly told him. “Are you certain you want to—”
“Don’t worry about me, pretty lady.” He gave her a goofy grin.
“But you’re driving and—”
“I can hold my liquor,” he assured her. “Ask anyone.”
After he left, Waverly turned to Blake. “I may need to beg a ride home from you,” she said quietly.
“Not a problem.”
“Hopefully I can get Reggie to see the wisdom in that.”
Blake glanced around at the partiers. “But I think I might like to make an earlier night of it. That is, if I can drag your cousin away from her forum.”
“I’d love to call it a night,” she said eagerly. “I’ve met some nice people, and I was actually having fun earlier in the evening.” She lowered her voice. “Until Reggie started drinking like a fish, and Janice started picking fights with Democrats.”
Blake elbowed her gently. “Looks like you and I are a couple of old party poopers.”
She smiled at him. “Hey, call it what you like, but I can think of better ways to have a good time.”
“So can I.” When his eyes met hers, she felt like he was looking a lot deeper than just the surface; for that matter, so was she.
“I’m sorry I twisted your arm to bring Janice tonight. Although, for my sake, I’m glad,” she admitted.
“Not as glad as I am,” he told her. “Do you mind if I tell you how stunning you look?”
Feeling uncomfortable, she waved her hand. “Oh, go on with you.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “I will go on. You look like a sea goddess in that dress, Waverly. The way it brings out the color in your eyes, your creamy skin. You’re the most beautiful creature here tonight. If you weren’t here with Reggie, I would…well, I’m not sure what I’d do. But I might ask the sea goddess to take a midnight swim with me.”
She laughed. “I haven’t seen you drinking, Blake, but you sound slightly—”
“If I’m intoxicated, it’s simply with your beauty, Waverly.”
“You know, Blake, my grandparents were Irish. Hence the name Brennen. But I wouldn’t take you for Irish, except for all your blarney just now.”
“It’s not blarney,” he insisted. “It’s the truth.”
At that minute Reggie returned, sitting down at the table with not one but two drinks. “I got a spare.” He winked at Blake now. “Just in case someone changes her mind.”
“Waverly and I were both thinking we’d like to make it an early evening,” Blake told him.
Reggie looked surprised. “You would?”
“It’s been a long day,” Waverly said quickly. “Remember I told you about my mom going to the hospital? That was pretty stressful. Blake was the one who was with her when it happened, and that was pretty stressful. Plus Sicily and I have been slaving to finish the mural, which is finally done.” She held up her still-stained fingernails. “I haven’t even had a chance to get the paint out of my nails.”
Reggie leaned over to peer at her hands. “Well, now that you mention it, I see you haven’t.” He shook his head. “No shame in that, Waverly. You look like a real artist now.” He took a sip of his drink. “Remember when you asked if I had a real gallery?”
“I do remember.” She patted his arm, resisting the temptation to remove one of those drinks and pour it into the potted plant behind him. “So, anyway, if you don’t mind too much, I think I’ll catch a ride home with Blake. I’d like it if you came with us too.”
“Came with you?” He looked at her like she was nuts. “But the party’s barely begun, sweetness. I can’t leave yet.”
“So you don’t mind if I do?”
He looked dismayed. “Well, I do mind. But, hey, it’s a free country.”
“Thanks for inviting me tonight.”
He nodded. “It was a pleasure arriving with the prettiest girl.”
She thanked hi
m, then told him to take care. “Please, when it’s time to go, call a taxi, won’t you?”
“You bet,” he told her. “Probably a bunch of us will get a ride back to town together. You know, with a designated driver.” He snickered like that was a joke.
Waverly exchanged glances with Blake, but he looked as much at a loss as she was. “Do you think Janice will be ready to go?” she asked him.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
So the two of them went over to where it almost seemed that the political “discussion” was quieting down some. Only three of Janice’s audience still remained, all men who appeared to be in their forties or thereabouts. Waverly supposed, based on their expressions, that these men were more interested in Janice as a woman than as a politician, but she could be wrong.
“Excuse me,” Blake said as he stepped up to Janice. “But Waverly and I are ready to head for home and I—”
“Why is Waverly going with you?” Janice demanded.
“Is your date dumping you?” a balding guy asked, interest flaming in his eyes.
Janice narrowed her eyes. “Are you, Blake?”
“I’m not exactly her date,” Blake explained to the man. “More like an escort.”
“An escort?” the tall thin guy echoed. “You’re telling us that a gorgeous girl like Janice Grant, successful attorney and candidate for state senate race, has to hire an escort to—”
“I did not hire an escort!” Janice shook her martini glass at him, and Waverly had to jump to miss the contents splashing over the edge.
“She’s right, I’m not exactly an escort,” Blake said casually, “since I’m not charging her anything for my services. You see, I agreed to escort her for free. Guess that makes me more like a cheap date. A forced cheap date.”
Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard Page 22