“Of course,” the matriarch said curtly before turning to face her daughter. “So what brings her to ourChristmas party?”
Rose was not sure which bothered her more, the fact Beatrice was speaking as if she was not there or that, with just a few short words, the older woman made her feel more like an outsider than ever. Suddenly a warm hand rested on her shoulder. “Rose is staying with me while she recovers.”
“Couldn’t her own people take care of her?”
“She’s a friend, Mothera guest in my home.” The hand on her shoulder gave a quick squeeze before withdrawing, a reassuring gesture the blonde woman greatly appreciated.
Beatrice looked at her daughter and nodded. “Of course, Veronica. We had no way of knowing that you had company. I’m sure the caterers can come up with an extra plate.”
“I’m sure they can.” On the surface, Ronnie appeared calm, but the rhythmic clenching of her jaw did not go unnoticed by Rose.
“Well…” Beatrice looked at her sister. “Elaine, I think there’s too much red on the lower branches. Come help me show these people how to properly decorate a tree.”
Elaine made only the barest of attempts to put her cigarette out. “The problem isn’t the balls, it’s the lights.” She set her purse down next to Rose’s chair. “Be a dear and keep an eye on this for me. I don’t want to have to drag it around.” She walked away without waiting for an answer.
“You okay?” Ronnie asked once the older women were out of earshot. She could only imagine what Elaine had said to Rose before she and her mother had entered the room.
The young woman took a deep breath before answering. “They are quite a pair, aren’t they?”
“I tried to warn you.”
“You weren’t exaggerating.” She looked up into deep blue eyes. “Ronnie, if it’s going to be a problem, I can go into the laundry room. I don’t mind, really.”
“I should have let you take that escape when you could,” she said apologetically. “Unfortunately they’ve seen you now. You’re stuck, just like me, until the last guest is gone.” She leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, “Welcome to the world of the rich and snobbish.” The doorbell announced the first in a stream of arrivals. “I guess it’s time to meet the rest of the family.”
In groups of twos and threes the relatives arrived, those that had planned on attending as well as those who decided after finding out it was being held at Ronnie’s home. Limousines and luxury cars lined the long driveway and filled the parking area while taxis dropped off even more attendees. The electronic age allowed word to travel quickly and word was thatplace to be on this evening was the old Cartwright Mansion.
Susan and Jack arrived almost an hour later than expected. The redhead joined her mother and sister while her husband headed for the bar. “What a crowd,” she said joyously as she approached.
“Yes, it does appear to be shaping up to be a success,” Beatrice replied. “Your brother isn’t here yet, though.”
“What a shame,” Ronnie muttered before taking a sip from her long stemmed champagne glass.
“What was that, dear?”
“Nothing, Mother.” She scanned the room. “Excuse me, I have to go tend to my guests. Susan, you can help greet the new arrivals.” Long legs carried her away before they could respond.
The corner opposite the tree seemed to be a good place for Rose to hide out. People stopped by, inquired about what had happened to her, gave sympathetic looks and moved on. She had been eavesdropping on a nearby conversation about the history of a particular ornament when she saw Ronnie moving through the crowd. Blue eyes smiled warmly at her as the tall hostess headed in her direction. “How are you?”
“Fine. Is that your sister?” She pointed at the redhead standing next to Beatrice.
“Mmm.” Ronnie took a sip, letting the tiny bubbles tickle her nose, and looked around.
“Everyone seems to be having a good time. I’ve heard more than one compliment on the decorations. Putting the old ornaments out along the streamers really was a good idea.”
“Thank you.” Rose smiled shyly and looked around the room. “Quite the crowd.”
“Yeah, and some of them were actually invited. Susan said there would be close to forty and we are well past that figure now.” Ronnie tasted the champagne again. “Where’s yours?”
Rose lowered her voice and looked around, not wanting to be overheard. “I didn’t think I should…you know, with the Percocet and all.” She felt alone enough being in a room full of strangers, but not being able to even join them in a simple toast made her feel even more isolated.
“Oh…I didn’t think of that.” Ronnie looked around and waved a serving person over, taking a step away from her in the process. The din of the crowd and the holiday music made it impossible for Rose to hear what was said. A few whispers later and the elegant hostess returned to her side.
Aloud she asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Fine. I just had to take care of something.” She retrieved her glass. “So have you met everyone?”
“I think so. It seems like I’ve been saying ‘hit by a car’ all night long.” The injured woman gave a short laugh. “There’s a little boy running around…”
“Tyler.”
“Yeah, he’s a cutie. Anyway, he was over here earlier. Stepped up on the coffee table before I could stop him and asked me if my stitches hurt.”
“Stepped…” Ronnie looked past her to check if there were any scuff marks. “He walked on my table?”
Rose smiled at her friend. “Don’t worry, I made him get down, but before I did, he leaned over and kissed my cheek.”
“He what?”
“He kissed my cheek. Said his mother did that to his boo-boos.”
“Tyler did that?”
“Yeah, isn’t that sweet?” She watched as Ronnie’s expression changed from one of annoyance to one of pleasure at the kind act.
The serving person arrived with a long stemmed glass filled with amber liquid. “Here’s your drink, Miss.”
“I didn’t…” Rose stopped when she saw the look on Ronnie’s face. “I mean, thank you.”she thought as she took the glass. The server smiled and walked away to take care of the other guests.
“It’s ginger ale. I thought you’d like something to drink that looked like the champagne,” the older woman said, taking a sip from her own.
“Yes, this is perfect,” Rose replied, bringing the glass to her lips. The tiny bubbles from the soda tickled her nose much like she supposed the champagne would. The color match was almost perfect. The ginger ale was so light in color that no one would suspect it was anything different from what they were drinking.