But Alison wasn’t a kid anymore. She was twenty-one, and had told her mom in no uncertain terms what she could do with her opinions about Jason.
“Look, Mom,” said Alison in measured tones. “I’m going to marry Jason whether you like it or not. And if you want to cut me off financially, so be it.”
“Honey, can’t you see that Jason is all wrong for you? He’s a criminal!”
“Ex-criminal, Mom. And besides, he was wrongfully convicted.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“In his case it’s true.”
“Of course it is.”
“God, Mom!” Alison exploded. “You’re simply impossible!”
Marge heard the stomping of footsteps coming in her direction, and quickly removed her ear from the door and herself further along the corridor. Moments later the door was yanked open and Alison came storming out. She didn’t even see Marge, too busy as she was fuming over her mother’s refusal to back her betrothal.
“Alison, come back here!” Isobel shouted as she, too, appeared in the corridor.
But her daughter was already stomping down the stairs. Isobel blinked when she saw Marge.
“Hi,” said Marge, feeling a little embarrassed.
“Hi,” said Isobel, rearranging her features into a weak smile. “Teenagers,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Always something.”
“Tell me about it,” said Marge.
The two women stood there for a moment, in awkward silence, then Isobel turned on her heel and strode back into her room, gently closing the door.
Tex came up the stairs, mounting them two at a time. He must have caught the tail end of the incident, for he asked,“I heard shouting. What was that all about?”
“Alison wants to get married,” said Marge, “but her mom doesn’t approve.”
“She wants tomarry the guy now?” said Tex, who was fullyau courant of the whole Jason Rocamora drama, as was the rest of the guests at the house.
“Looks like. Isobel said she’ll cut her off if she goes through with the wedding.”
“Tough,” said Tex. He glanced at the closed door. “Maybe we should intervene?”
“I don’t think so,” said Marge. “Best to stay out of this.”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Tex, looking quietly relieved.
Much to their detriment they had learned that sometimes the best way to lose a friend was to get involved in their personal business. Isobel might think they were taking sides. And besides, if she wanted their advice, she would have asked for it. As it was, she might simply take offense if they tried to intervene.
It was in moments like these that she thanked her lucky stars that they’d always maintained such a good relationship with their own daughter. And that when Odelia had arrived home one day to deliver a fianc? on the mat, it had been a cop and not a criminal. Reformed as Jason Rocamora might be, he still sounded like bad news. And it was with this thought that they entered their own room for a much-needed shower.
CHAPTER 4
[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]
Perlita Gruner was in the bedroom she shared with her husband, putting sunscreen on her face and getting ready for their doubles match. A handsome woman in her early fifties with an abundance of flaming red hair, she was nevertheless concerned about a suspicious-looking spot that had appeared on her face in recent weeks. And as she studied herself in the vanity mirror, she wondered whether to make an appointment with a dermatologist to have it checked out. According to Nathan it was just a mole, but moles could be tricky.
She lifted her chin and saw to her satisfaction that the skin wasn’t as saggy as it could have been. Especially now, she wanted to look her absolute best. She had even wondered if she should accept Michele’s invitation this year or not. With so much going on in her life she didn’t want to be stuck in a house for a week. But then she’d remembered that these people were her friends, and that she always felt so uplifted at the end of the sojourn, and had decided to come after all.
Her phone chimed and she glanced in the direction of the bathroom door, where Nathan had been ensconced for the past twenty minutes, and quickly grabbed her phone. When she read the message she smiled, then replied. And she’d just finished deleting the message when her husband walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his midsection, hair wet from his shower.
“Most people take a shower after the match,” she said as she finished rubbing the creamy substance on her face and neck, taking care not to skip her ears.
“Yeah, well, I like to take a shower before and after,” said Nathan as he cut a glance to his phone, which was lying on the bed. “Makes me feel refreshed.” A tall man a few years her senior, he looked fit and healthy, which was a boon in his line of work. As a successful art dealer, he was mingling with the movers and shakers of the art world on a daily basis, people who put a premium on beauty and good looks. “Have you heard from Izzy?”
Perlita shook her head.“I’m going to have Dr. Blumberg take a look at this mole,” she said.
“Oh, for God’s sakes, Perlita. It’s just a mole.”
“I don’t like it. I want it gone.” It was her face, after all. This mole had no business popping up uninvited. “I’m sure Dr. Blumberg will know what to do.”
“Fine,” Nathan murmured as he picked up his phone and stared at it for a moment, looking puzzled. “So no word from Izzy?”
“I’m sure everything is fine, Nate.”
“I guess so.”
Izzy Price was the promising young artist the couple had taken under their wing. Nathan was representing her business interests, while Perlita, who owned the Gruner Gallery in downtown Hampton Cove, was organizing the young artist’s first-ever exhibition in two months. Perlita had commissioned three dozen paintings from Izzy, but so far she had only finished the first dozen, which gave Nathan cause for concern. In spite of his long association with artists—or maybe because of it—he habitually fretted about their capacity to deliver on command. And since Izzy had never completed such a big order before, he wondered if they hadn’t jumped the gun and offered her this opportunity before she was ready. That they might burn her out and end her career before it even got started.
“You know what Izzy is like,” she said. “She performs well under pressure.”
“Let’s hope she does. Two dozen paintings in two months is a lot.”
Perlita got up, grabbed her towel and water bottle and headed for the door.“Ready?” she asked.
“Just give me a minute,” said Nathan as he picked up his phone. That frown was still cutting his brow.
She sighed and walked out.“Don’t be late, Nate.”
“Mh.”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
The moment his wife had left, Nathan tiptoed to the door and listened intently. Satisfied that she was gone, he dialed the number. When a female voice purred in his ear, his frown disappeared and immediately a warm smile crept up his face.
“Are you sure Perlita doesn’t know?” she asked.
“Absolutely. She doesn’t have a clue.”
“When will I see you, Nate?”
“Soon—I promise.”
“Why did you have to go to this tennis thing? And with your wife, no less.”
“It’s only a week, sweetheart. One more week, and then we’ll be together.”
“Pinky swear?”
“Scout’s honor.”
She giggled, a lovely sound.“I can’t wait.”
Neither could he. The thought of that luscious young body and those flexible limbs made him giddy with desire.“Same here,” he said hoarsely.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
Isobel sat motionless for a moment. The fight with her daughter had affected her more deeply than she would have thought. She hated these fights, but what was the alternative? To give Alison what she wanted? Impossible. Jason Rocamora was bad news. If Alison married him, he would drag her down into the abyss, and destroy her life and her future. She couldn’t have that. That marriage must never take place.