Lucie said, "But I was so counting on you being there. Moral support, you know?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't think you needed me to be there. But you'll be fine? You're a pro at this. And you've got Chelsea giving the old rah-rah. But...I can suddenly get better if you want? I don't want to let you down."
"No, don't worry. I was just excited about having you there. And I still don't understand the whole Bianca thing. She's really a nice person - look what she's doing for me! This is huge. If I can impress Edie and get her on my side, I might actually have a cookbook. And who knows where it will lead? It could be the beginning of Lucie Scott Omnimedia!"
"It will be. I'm sure of it."
Lucie sighed and then gave her head a little shake, carrying a tray filled with the prepared ingredients for the salads that she would assemble on-site. Sharon had meant it when she said that she was certain of Lucie's future success, was one of the most staunchly supportive friends she'd ever had and the reason she didn't have a Molly-problem any longer. Lucie would miss her tonight.
The tray racks in the van full and secured, Lucie and Erin did one last review of their event checklist to make sure everything was there, including the tin foil "wings" Erin had suggested for roasting the marinated duck breasts, duck being a fatty bird that tended to crackle and splatter in an oven.
"That was a brilliant idea, Erin. What would I do without you?" Lucie said, patting the tray that contained the pre-formed "wings" that Erin had fashioned that morning which would protect the oven but allow the oven's heat to crisp the skin perfectly.
Erin twisted her neck and shrugged, smiling shyly. "No big deal. Are you sure you don't need me to come and help?"
"No, it'll be easy. Only eight tonight and it's all plated. Thanks, though."
"Okay, I admit it, I have selfish reasons. I'm dying to see Bianca's house. I mean, the kitchen alone sounds amazing!"
"Actually, it sounds tragic - all that fabulous expensive stuff, even my fantasy-come-true stainless steel Wolf range, and she doesn't even cook!" Lucie said and, hearing a car coming around the corner, stepped out of the way with her clipboard.
Erin craned her neck to see who it was and then blanched, ducking. "Uh, oh. Dad."
Lucie looked around. Donald Scott was pulling into a parking spot in his dark blue Mercedes sedan. What was he doing here? She tried to think, but her mind simply scrambled wildly. Before she knew it, he was out of the car and striding towards them.
"Erin," her father said as he approached. "What are you doing here?"
"Just helping!" Erin squeaked, cringing a little, her earlier confidence disappearing into thin air.
"Helping? Why? Lucie? Didn't you hire someone yet?"
Seeing Erin undergo such a sudden and demeaning transformation aggravated Lucie. Why? Why did he have to push Erin down? Her sister needed a helping hand, not a crushing fist. Lucie raised her head and looked at her father levelly. "I did hire someone. You're looking at her."
"Erin? Are you kidding me? What did I tell you? No, you cannot hire your sister."
"It's already done. And by the way, she's great, Dad. In fact, she's fantastic. She's bringing in new clients every day."
Her father blinked and shook his head. "I don't really care. I've already given you instructions about this. No. Erin? You're done. Hang up that apron and go home. I need to talk to Lucie. I'll deal with you later."
Erin started to turn away, red-faced and shaking. Lucie's hand shot out and grabbed her sister's arm, pulling her back. Erin turned around, but her head was down. Lucie said, "No. She works for me. You don't have the right to fire her."
"I do if you're taking my money to run this business," her father said, his eyes flashing with challenge.
"Why, Dad? What's wrong with hiring Erin?"
Donald Scott put up his fist and started counting off the reasons using his fingers. "One, she has never repaid even one of our loans. She owes us over fifty thousand dollars and I doubt we'll ever see a penny of it. Two, no matter what advice we've given her over the years, she consistently ignores it. Three-"
"Well, she took my advice," Lucie said. "You should see the turnaround she's made. I can't-"
"I was speaking. Don't interrupt me. Three, she and her mother have been fighting for the last year. Your hiring Erin is taking sides against Flo. After all Flo has done for you! Do you know it was her idea to back your venture? Honestly, I was reluctant at first. It was Flo who convinced me. And now you do this. Go behind our backs, against our wishes, when we're the ones helping you. What kind of payback is that? Is that what a good daughter does?"
Lucie felt a cold hard anger steel her. So her father had to be convinced to help her. Was it that difficult for him to have faith in his own daughter? And now to summarily reject Erin, never giving her another chance, not ever? She loved her father, but she didn't want his reluctant help with all its unfair rules and expectations anymore. "I'm sorry I've disappointed you, Dad. I guess I'm just not worthy of your support. Please withdraw it. I'll figure out how to make this business work on my own."
Her father, who had been leaning forward, his hand with its counted-off fingers in Lucie's face, jerked back a little. "What? So you're going to throw away everything you've dreamed of? For Erin? You're making a big mistake. She's like someone who's drowning; all she'll do is drag you down with her, you know. "
Lucie put her arm around Erin, whose head still hung, face red. "I guess that's a chance I'm willing to take. Sometimes you have to help people you love, even if it's not convenient or easy or some big 'win' for you."
"Well, that's crazy. I'm really-"
"No, Dad. It's called faith. Having faith in someone. If only you could understand what that is, things would be so different for us. Anyway, thank you for helping me as much as you have, even if Flo had to twist your arm to make it happen."
Her father put both hands in the air in defeat. "Obviously, we don't see eye to eye. I guess we never will. I have to say I'm very disappointed. Especially as I was coming here to tell you about a glowing recommendation that was passed on to us this afternoon. I was wondering when you worked for this person, what you did. She was certainly overflowing with praise."
"Who?"
"A woman named Molly Knowles? Anyway, I thought I'd give you some good news, bolster you up for this dinner party tonight. Didn't know we'd end up like this," he said, his lips tight and strong jaw visibly clenching. If Lucie didn't know him better, she would think he was about to cry. But Donald Scott never cried, was never weak.
"Dad, I'm sorry," Lucie said, letting go of Erin and reaching for his shoulder.
But he pulled away, shaking his head. "No need to apologize. Good luck with your business. You're on your own," he said, and then turned, strode to his car, yanked open the door and climbed in. The Mercedes' engine, which usually purred, roared loudly as he backed up and then sped away.
Lucie watched the car disappear around the corner and then heard Erin say, "I can't believe you just did that. For me?"
Lucie turned and looked at her sister, whose soft face was wondering and slack. But her eyes were bright. Lucie said, "For you? Of course."
"What are we going to do?"
"What are we going to do? We're going to kick some serious butt tonight, get a book deal, and go on to conquer Fairfield County. You know, I was never keen on the Omnimedia world-domination thing. That was Dad and Flo. This way it will be smaller, more manageable."
"And you still want me working for you?"
"Are you kidding? What would I do without you?" Lucie said, laughing a little and giving her stepsister a playful smack on the shoulder. The old bone-deep sadness about her father was back, but buoying it up was an odd lighter feeling. Examining it, she realized what she felt was relief.
Forty-five minutes later, all Lucie was feeling was awe.
She'd known after going through the imposing security gate checkpoint, being queried and signing in with the guard, that she was entering a very elite nei
ghborhood in Belle Haven. But she wasn't prepared for the towering vine-covered walls that hid Bianca and John's house from the street to reveal a breathtaking and enormous Elizabethan-inspired Tudor manse fronted by a long circular crushed-shell drive and flanked by lush formal gardens and gurgling marble fountains.
Pulling in next to the back entrance leading to the kitchen that matched Bianca's description, Lucie killed the van's engine and snatched up her phone. Ryan had to hear about this, however briefly and even though she'd just gotten off the phone with him. She'd called him before leaving for Bianca's with the news about her father, knowing Ryan would be supportive and needing to hear his words of encouragement, which he'd amply supplied.
"Hey? What's going on? Everything okay?" Ryan said, picking up on the second ring.
"Wait, you're not driving are you?" Lucie said, realizing he was probably on his way to work.
"Um...well..."
"You know I hate that? Okay, I'll make this fast. You would not believe this house. It's insane."
"I can't wait to hear all about it tonight."
"You will. Trust me, you will!"
"Break a leg!"
"Merci, mon amour!"
"Oooo, you're driving me crazy!"
"Maybe later, if you're lucky," Lucie laughed, they hung up, and she scrambled out of the van, feeling time ticking away far too fast. She was already late and would have to start focusing on her work, goggle at the house some other time. She went to find the maid, who, per Bianca, would help Lucie unload and show her around.
Instead, it was Bianca who opened the door to the kitchen when she knocked. Bianca was still dressed casually, wearing slim dark jeans and a clingy red V-neck top that showed off her enviable figure.
"Bianca! Hi! Sorry I'm running a little late. Don't worry, I'll catch up."
Bianca's face was unreadable. "Not a problem. Let me help you carry in the soup. I'm so happy you were able to make my favorite. I just love bouillabaisse."
"Oh, but the lid is a little loose. I'm happy to carry it."
"No, no, no. I insist. You stay out here and start unloading and I'll bring it in and go get Lintang to help you," Bianca said, passing Lucie and stopping next to the back of the van. She put out both hands in readiness.
Lucie paused and looked at Bianca, flummoxed. It was such an odd thing, how fixated Bianca was on this soup. But it was her party after all. Lucie went and opened the van doors and then climbed inside, wishing she'd invested in more secure containers. Carrying the large taped-shut kettle out and reaching to place it in Bianca's outstretched hands, she noted how excited Bianca looked, heavy-lidded eyes widening and lips spreading in a joyous smile.
"Thanks?" Lucie said. "You really don't have to. It's very heavy?"
Bianca grabbed at the kettle, her muscles popping as she lowered it. "Oh, no. It's my pleasure. Now, stay here and Lintang will be right out. Really looking forward to tonight."
Lucie started to agree, but Bianca was already walking swiftly away, her long dark hair swaying and rippling in the soft wind coming off of the Sound, a blue expanse of water revealed through an arch in the garden wall. Lucie shrugged and climbed into the back of the van to continue unloading.
Corona
John's face was guarded, almost wooden, when he opened the front door to Kate and Grant, but he quickly brightened when he saw that it was them.
"Kate, Grant. Glad you could make it."
Kate stepped forward and accepted John's brief hug. "Of course? Tonight's very important to Bianca. And Lucie, of course? Is the editor, Edie, is she here yet?"
"No, not yet. And good thing, because Bianca's still not ready. She's been running around all day. Come in."
John led them through the grand foyer toward the back of the house. Kate couldn't resist and gawked again at the huge sweeping staircase that made her think of Twelve Oaks from Gone with the Wind. She could just imagine Southern belles in beautiful gowns floating down it. In the center of the foyer on a large round table there was another of the extraordinary flower arrangements that Bianca had delivered weekly. The flowers, as usual, were exotic and foreign to Kate. But no, looking closer, Kate could see that peonies were mixed in with this arrangement. She knew what they were.
Kate was dying to stop and smell the flowers, but instead, holding Grant's hand, she followed John into the enormous living room that took up the majority of the back of the house. The room was decorated in all-white with splashes of scarlet and featured expansive views of the Long Island Sound, wide and blue and dotted with sailboats. Passing through the living room and outside to the terrace, John stopped and gestured at the cluster of wicker furniture under the large red-and-white striped awning that extended from the back of the house.
John said, "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I need to check on Bianca. I'll have Lintang bring your drinks. Corona, Kate?"
"Actually, can I have water, maybe with a little lemon?"
"Of course. Grant? Grey Goose still your favorite? On the rocks?"
Grant mustered a smile. "Sure. Anything you have, though. Not picky. Thanks."
Kate and Grant sat down in the wicker loveseat that faced the Sound. Once John was out of earshot, Grant said, "Are you sure you're okay? We didn't have to come."
Kate pasted on a smile. "Of course I am? And yes we did? Bianca's so worried it won't go perfectly? For Lucie?"
"But-"
"No, let's not talk about it? I feel fine. And I don't want anyone to know this time. It's too early? Not until the first trimester is over?"
Grant put his arm around her and smiled. "I don't know; I feel like shouting it from the rooftops."
"Grant!"
"I know, don't worry. I won't say a word."
"Thank you, sweetheart?" Kate gave him a kiss on the cheek, glad the others hadn't arrived yet and she could be demonstrative with him. They were both clinging to each other in their joy, hopeful and fearful in equal measure, and every small gesture helped.
She was also grateful she had called Sharon, Lucie, and Chelsea to apologize about her outburst the other night at O'Malley's. Of course they were friends; Kate was just sensitive and protective regarding Bianca. Sharon, too, had apologized, admitting she had been mistaken and was sorry she had put Kate in such an awkward position. It was an enormous relief and a boon for tonight's special event, which would have been uncomfortable otherwise.
Lintang, the Rossi's Indonesian maid who was lovely and tiny, like a doll, arrived with their drinks and placed them and a small plate of round yellow puffs on the low table in front of them. "Goo-chair?" Lintang said, smiling and nodding at the plate.
"Goo-chair?" Kate repeated, squinting in confusion.
"Goo-chair," Lintang said with more authority and nodded again before gliding away.
Kate shrugged and said, "I don't know what that is?"
Grant said, reaching for one, "Here, I'll be the guinea pig."
"No!" Kate said, waving her hand. "What if there's shellfish in them? I'll have it. I don't have any food allergies?" She reached for one and popped it in her mouth. A puff of heat and then a rich cheesy flavor filled her mouth. When she finished chewing and swallowed, she said, "Cheese! You'll love these!"
Grant did love them, doing a funny eye-rolling and tummy-rubbing demonstration that made Kate laugh. They sat and sipped their drinks and ate a few more of the fancy baked cheese puffs while making comments on the glorious waterfront scenery. Kate tried to revel in the moment, enjoy it, but she couldn't. Instead she thought of the mountains in Vermont that would be cloaked in green now, the rivers between them singing at full flood with snowmelt, and how, on sunny warm days like this spent working with her family on the farm, the days seemed perfect and inevitable, the world in harmony, God smiling down on them.
Strawberry Daiquiri
Chelsea had been hoping that John would be the one to open the door and greet her, giving her a chance to explain again that the set-up with his friend was Bianca's idea, not hers. Not t
hat it would necessarily work. John had been unwilling to listen, blowing up whenever it was mentioned.
Instead, it was Bianca who opened the door, wearing a flame-red silk halter dress. The same dress that Chelsea was wearing, only Chelsea's was emerald green and matched the real emerald that sparkled on her neck. She had intended to pass off the necklace as costume jewelry, but how would she explain the designer dress she was wearing, especially considering Bianca knew exactly how expensive it was?
Bianca smiled. "Chelsea. I was wondering about you."
"I'm sorry I'm late? Is Edie and her date here yet?"
"No, but your date is. Come on, let's not keep him waiting," Bianca said, opening the door wider and then walking with Chelsea through the foyer toward the back of the house. "Beautiful dress, by the way."
"Thanks! I think it's a knockoff of yours?"
"Oh?" Bianca said, eyebrows going up as she turned and scanned Chelsea while they crossed through the living room. "I didn't know they made knockoffs of this dress. Well, don't try to tell me that emerald isn't real. I can tell in a hot second. Very nice. Who gave it to you?"
Chelsea felt a flutter of panic run through her. Bianca could tell? Who gave it to her? Think quickly! "Oh, an old boyfriend? You like it?"
Bianca paused just before the glass door leading outside to the terrace and regarded Chelsea with razor-sharp eyes. "An old boyfriend, huh? Interesting. Come on, you've got to meet Aaron. He's all that and a bag of tricks. You'll love him."
But Chelsea did not love Aaron, not one little bit. Right away, the tall handsome blond stockbroker was offhand with her, barely looking at her when he greeted her in a bored tone. Where was the leering admiration she'd been expecting? Instead, he seemed to be fixated on Bianca, his blue eyes glued to her.
Chelsea felt like yelling, "Fine! I didn't want you anyway!" but knew instinctively that, even if she did something that outrageous and dismissive, he still wouldn't care. Evidently, Aaron was smitten with his colleague's wife. Chelsea keenly felt the irony of the situation, wanted to laugh at herself, but also felt the old jealousy sitting right next to her common sense in her head, commenting that Bianca would always win, that Chelsea would always take a back seat.
Cocktail Hour Page 36