There was a pause and then Chelsea called back, "Yeah? I hope so."
"And the book proposal, too. That's so great that you know all that."
There was a sigh from Chelsea's stall and then a flushing noise before the stall door swung open. Chelsea, looking miserable, crossed to the sink. "I guess. I'll try to help. I don't know how much use I'll be."
"Hey, any help is good help."
Chelsea only shrugged, squeezing soap onto her own hands.
Sharon was dying to bring up the subject of Molly, but she knew Chelsea would scorn it. Still, all she could think about were the things Lucie alluded to when Sharon made her confession about that afternoon's events. Sharon had to know what happened, the true story of Lucie and Molly, but Lucie was clearly a proponent of discretion. However, Lucie was now in danger of losing her business. Maybe that would be enough to make her talk. Sharon had a definite plan to message Lucie and try to make plans, just the two of them. If they got together and their conversation was one on one, Lucie might open up. Sharon hoped so, needed some kind of lead that might suggest a solution, because Molly was now not only out to get Lucie, she also had her sights set on Sharon.
Sharon tried to think of something else to talk about, something that would cheer Chelsea up. Chelsea was clearly depressed about being unemployed. Even worse as far as her friend was concerned, she was single with no knight in shining armor on the horizon. Then it hit Sharon. A date with a handsome stockbroker! "You must be psyched for that guy that Bianca's setting you up with! He sounds hot.... plus, he's got your number one requirement?"
Chelsea's eyes grew wide. "What?"
"Money! You always say that he has to be successful. If he works with John, I'm sure he is?"
"Oh. Yeah. That's true."
"Boy, you are enthusiastic tonight," Sharon said, rolling her eyes and picking up a folded black towel after finding it by feel where it was piled with the others in the corner of the counter.
Chelsea only sighed. Then she brightened, looking at Sharon with renewed interest. "What about you? Bianca's setting you up? And what about Dean? I thought for sure by now you two would be seriously dating?"
"Whoa, Nellie. Which question do you want me to answer first?"
"Dean! What happened?"
"I should've known you wouldn't let that slip by. When I was talking about him earlier, I was shocked you didn't chime in with your usual hearts and flowers."
"Talking earlier?"
"You were checked out, staring at your drink."
"Oh," Chelsea said, looking away as she reached for a towel. "Anyway, what happened?"
"Nothing. Just like I told you. He was just being polite. Apologizing."
"No. Dean likes you. A lot. I swear. You've got to believe me."
"No, he avoids me like he owes me money. I haven't even seen him in weeks."
"Then go next door! Say, 'Hi, how are you? Let's hang out!' I bet he's dying for you to do that."
"Are you kidding?"
At that moment, Chelsea's iPhone chirped. She scrambled for it. Pulling her phone out of her purse and holding it up, she said, "Uh...oh. This text is important. I better answer. It's....it's about a job!"
Sharon nodded. "Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you at Bianca's party."
"Yeah, okay, see you then," Chelsea said, already avidly typing with her thumbs.
"Bye," Sharon said, turned and walked out through the bathroom door, able to locate it in the murky darkness due to its golden curved handle. Stepping into the bar, she was surprised that the large room had emptied out almost completely, only the bartenders remaining, clustered in a corner and talking in low voices.
But no, there were two people standing at the top of the stairs across the room. It was Bianca and Kate. They were starting down the stairs, Kate going first. Bianca made a strange downward waving movement.
Then Sharon heard Bianca call, "Kate! Watch out, you're going to fall!"
A crashing thundering noise followed, the floor under Sharon's feet shaking slightly. What happened? Sharon stared, trying to wrap her head around what she'd just seen. It almost looked like Bianca...no. It was her imagination. Bianca didn't push Kate? Was that Kate, that clattering sound? At that moment, in the distance, there was a tiny yelping scream.
Bianca, poised at the top of the stairs, looked as if she was listening, her head turning slightly so that Sharon could see her profile. Was that a smile on Bianca's lips? Then Bianca's hands flew up and she turned and looked around, first at the bartenders and then at Sharon.
Sharon, hearing the scream from the stairwell, felt her muscles contract, ready to dash forward, see what happened, help. But it was Bianca's face that immobilized her. The smile she thought she'd seen was gone. In its place was a bizarre expression, an odd combination of fear and triumph, Bianca's usually heavy-lidded almost-sleepy eyes were blazing and wide as they honed in on Sharon from across the room.
Chardonnay
Lucie took the stairs slowly; grateful for the numbing effect of the two glasses of wine she'd had. Her hip still hurt her, but instead of a sharp jabbing pain, it was blanketed, dull.
The wine wasn't the only thing she was grateful for. When she left the rental kitchen and on the drive all the way from Stamford to Greenwich she'd racked her brain, but still had not had one clue about what to do about Molly's campaign against her business. Her whole life suddenly felt hopeless and desperately sad. Fail - that was all she'd ever do.
But then Sharon shouted her name while she was making her way down the sidewalk toward The Vault, and from that moment on, things got better. She was able to talk to Sharon for one thing, who was as wry and witty and straightforward as ever, which was a relief and a pleasure. Joking with Sharon as they made their way into the restaurant, the weight that made her feel as if sandbags were resting on her shoulders had lifted.
Then there was the general enjoyment of the conversation, being distracted with the others' lives. Particularly, seeing Kate happily pregnant and hearing about her baby-oriented spending spree was fun. Lucie had spent enough time gazing covetously at stenciled cribs and tiny darling outfits and fuzzy stuffed bears to know a lot about what she wanted to have someday when she had children, and she passed on all her opinions to Kate who studiously wrote them down as if they were commandments rather than suggestions.
Finally, the amazing turn of events when Chelsea suggested Lucie put together a book proposal for her old boss, Edie. With an "in" like Chelsea and her help with putting together the proposal, Lucie might actually have a chance at a published cookbook, one of her brightest dreams. She was already fantasizing about the dedication page and what she should say about her mother. Maybe the whole introduction could be about Mere! Then, to make things even better, Bianca offered to showcase Lucie's cooking for Edie at her dinner party. Assuming Edie was the Francophile that Chelsea said she was and Chelsea could find out Edie's favorite dishes, Lucie's book seemed like shoo-in.
Halfway down the stairs Lucie paused, letting the growing throb in her hip dissipate. She remembered her most recent conversation with Erin yesterday morning, her rough-around-the-edges step-sister saying it like it was as usual.
"Look at you. You're a massive gimp! You can't even cross the floor without taking a break," Erin said, standing in the commercial kitchen supply store where they'd gone to shop and watching Lucie make her stop-start way around the merchandise.
Lucie turned and blushed. "Is it really that bad?"
"Yes! It's worse than bad. How can you even work? You should be in a wheelchair!"
"Stop it. You're exaggerating."
"Not by much. Really, I think it's time you got some help in the kitchen."
"I want to be the one that does the cooking. That's my plan and I'm sticking with it, but I could hire a prep chef? I will."
"Why don't you let me help? Come on!"
Lucie looked at Erin. Erin, who could burn water, in the kitchen whipping up dill sauce over poached salmon? Not a chance. "E
rin. We've talked about this."
"But I'm a quick learner! You could teach me! And then I could have my own catering business!"
"Please, let's not fight again," Lucie said, feeling exhausted. Having Erin work for her was like being on a big hamster wheel: run, run, run... and go nowhere. And, on top of that, she had to hide the fact that Erin worked for her from her father and Flo. She didn't know how much longer she could keep it up, but she couldn't figure out a better solution either.
Erin was right about Lucie's hip, though. Her father was, too. Lucie couldn't keep on like this - she had to see that physical therapist, not just for her father's sake, but for her own. What was she so afraid of? If she didn't get better, at least she'd know it really was as hopeless as she felt it was. She didn't really have any knowledge about the limits of her disability other than the physical therapy she's struggled through and quit prematurely in her twenties. Her feelings about whether or not her hip would heal were just that: feelings. She would have to go for it.
She also decided at that moment that she would go home and wait up for Ryan, start work on the book proposal while she waited. They had to talk sometime and she didn't have another job until next week, the last-minute mystery cancellation on Monday for this Saturday's dinner party solved, Molly the likely culprit. Lucie had time to wait up, would drink cups of tea to stay awake if she had to, but she would see Ryan walk through the front door whenever he finally got home from the bar. She would start the thaw; force it if she had to. She loved him, believed in him, and she had made him doubt that. She would remove those doubts tonight.
Lucie started down the stairs again, taking one step at a time, slowly, slowly. She was almost there when she heard a tumbling sound behind her, something that sounded awkward and large rolling down the stairs right at her. She jerked and turned, but not in time to see what it was before it slammed into her, knocking her down.
Pain, previously under cover, bolted bright, a knife stabbing into her hip. "Ah!" she said, before the velocity of the rolling mass took her with it. A pointed thing, a high heel, jammed into her back, breaking skin right through Lucie's blouse. The mass was another person. Slam, slam, slam, and they banged into the marble floor.
Lucie's shoulder lit up with pain, the brunt of her fall on it, and she felt stung and a buzzing numbness everywhere. She felt paralyzed, unable to move.
"Oh, my God!" A woman shrieked. And then all the voices rose together, motion and rushing forward of people. Someone, a man, yelled something about nine-one-one. Was anyone a doctor?
Someone was leaning over Lucie. She tried to move. She could, legs and arms, and felt relief flood her. Her shoulder hurt, but it wasn't that pain she knew so well from a severe injury. Her hip throbbed now, the knife gone. It was the same angry but not dangerous pain as the night they had danced. She was pretty sure it was the same. Wasn't it? She got up on her good arm and looked around, wincing and grinding her teeth a little.
There at her feet was Kate, who instead of rising as Lucie had, was curling up on her side. It had been Kate who had fallen: Kate and her baby. Lucie saw Kate's hands go to her stomach, her continued silence frightening.
Corona
Crossing the emptied-out bar beside Bianca, Kate felt her legs trembling as if they were going to collapse. How were they this weak? She would have to practice wearing her heels daily until she was more assured on them the way the other women were. Although she expected her toes to hurt - and they did - she didn't expect to feel like a newborn calf, barely able to stand. How did some women walk around in these things all day? It obviously took practice.
She was still shocked that Bianca had done such an about-face back there at the table, asking every kind of question about the baby and encouraging such a lengthy discussion about her pregnancy. After Bianca's earlier attitude and warnings, it was as if something changed her mind completely. Kate confused but glad. She didn't want to fight with Bianca, but she couldn't stop talking about the baby. Now they were simpatico again, two friends in agreement, and all was right with the world.
Reaching the top of the stairs, she realized she had to say one last thing to Bianca to make the evening perfect. She had to fix her mistake. She should have never told Bianca about her fears about Grant. They were probably hormonal from being pregnant, the lipstick and other so-called clues all caused by innocent things she would probably discover soon. She didn't want to worry Bianca, and besides, her marriage and any problems in it were between her and Grant.
Thinking of Grant, Kate couldn't wait to get home, curl up in his arms in bed, and feel him nuzzle and kiss her neck. He was so affectionate, so loving - how could she doubt him? She was ashamed of herself.
Giving a little reassuring nod to herself, she turned to Bianca. It was shocking to see her friend looking so...plain. Bianca's appearance tonight was so different, so subdued, it made Kate wonder if there was something bothering her friend. But no, she would have told Kate if something was wrong. Bianca was an open book.
Feeling her ankles wobble more dangerously, Kate reached for the banister for support and said, "Bianca, I just wanted to say, about the other day? You don't have to worry about Grant and me. Really?"
Bianca shook her head dismissively and said, "No, no, no. Really. Please forget what I said. Come on, Lucie's waiting for us. We don't want to keep her."
Kate stared. But Bianca had said that, back there over cocktails, about her marriage? Maybe she didn't mean it that way? "Oh? Okay? You're sure?"
"Yes! Yes, I am. Please, let's go," Bianca said, nodding and waving at the stairs.
Kate smiled, feeling happier than ever. She was right, she knew it! All her worries boiled down to her overactive hormones making her imagination run wild. And Bianca, Kate couldn't ask for a better friend. Kate said, "You're my best friend ever?"
"Kate! Please!" Bianca said, looking almost anxious.
"Oh! You're right? Lucie's waiting?" Kate said, realizing that Bianca was worried about Lucie. Poor Lucie who could barely walk. Of course Bianca would think of Lucie, worry about her. Kate cringed, realizing how selfish she was being and started down the stairs. The spiral staircase would be tough to maneuver, but she had to start somewhere. Kate focused on keeping her ankles strong, putting two fingers on the banister for balance.
A warm pressure hit her back and then Bianca shouted, "Kate! Watch out, you're going to fall!"
But it was too late, Kate was already falling. Her arms went out instinctively and she dropped her bags as she reached for the banister, now needing it, but it sped by too fast to grab. She was flying. And then she wasn't.
Her hands connected briefly on one of the carpeted steps before sliding off as the carpeting was sleek and silky. Arms stretched out in front as if she was diving down the stairs, Kate's rear end whipped around and slammed into the low outer wall of the staircase, causing a sharp pain in her hip which seemed to echo through her abdomen.
She tumbled and rolled down the stairs, trying to tuck in her legs and protect her belly, but she was moving too quickly. Then she hit something soft. It was Lucie. She could smell the sweet fresh scent like honeysuckle, Lucie's scent. A little scream came from her friend and then they were together, almost one, as they fell. The final bang into the hard marble floor was the most painful, the wooden staircase and carpeting soft in comparison, and Kate felt the echo again in her belly.
There was a lot of noise and people crowding around them, but Kate wouldn't move, wouldn't even look up. The echo was growing, radiating outward through her pelvis and hitting her hip bones. If she stayed very still, it might stop. It had to stop. Baby, sweet baby! No!
As her mind protested, a cramp ripped through her, and she felt something release. It was hot and it was running like a stream down through her. No!
To show herself it was her imagination, yet more hormones confusing her, Kate finally moved, propped herself up on her elbow to see. Looking down, she saw the spreading stain on her dress, darkness pooling and dragging
her down with it.
Chardonnay
Lucie had to lean against the side of her Audi to unlock the door, allowing the grime that had settled on it over the last two weeks as it sat parked and abandoned in their apartment complex's lot to rub up against her jeans and leave a mark. But she didn't care. She was free at last, able to walk again without crutches, able to get behind the wheel of her car and drive somewhere. She was officially on the mend.
Part of it was Adrienne, the physical therapist who had come to her father so well recommended. Those recommendations had turned out to be right; Adrienne really was a miracle worker. If Lucie hadn't had her fall, she might have been walking normally by now or at least with less pain. Of course, during their sessions together Lucie was in agony, but the improvement afterward made the teeth-gritting, muscle-trembling, sweat-inducing struggle of it worthwhile.
The other part of it was Ryan. Although she'd imagined their long-overdue heart-to-heart taking place in their apartment's living room, it began in a curtained cubicle at the emergency room at Greenwich Hospital, the thaw sudden as they embraced, and then the necessary words came on their way home, Ryan driving. He admitted to her then that he'd been planning to move out, that he was going to tell her of his decision that weekend. When her call came, he was cleaning up at the bar, and he'd considered not answering.
"What the hell," Ryan said, shaking his head, his eyes on the road. "Those were my words. I saw it was you, decided to tell you right then, not wait. I hate to say it, but I was done. I was so pissed, I couldn't see straight. I thought you were on my side, that you believed in me."
"But I did! I do," Lucie said, curled up on her side in the passenger seat with the seatbelt wrapping around her back so that she didn't put any weight on her bad hip. She tried to stay completely still, every movement causing what felt like broken glass shards to penetrate more deeply, but the car itself shook her and she had to fight to focus and stay in control. She was glad now that they couldn't give her pain meds due to her alcohol consumption that night. She didn't want to be loopy. She added, "And I was going to tell you. Tonight, I was planning to wait up."
Cocktail Hour Page 28