“Not really,” Chaz says mildly. “I mean, considering they were probably the only two Americans heading for Souillac-”
“Oh, not another one of your philosophical speeches on the nature of randomness,” Shari says to Chaz. “PLEASE.” To me, she cries, “But why didn’t you call? We’d have met you at the station.”
“I did call,” I say. “About a hundred times. But I kept getting your voice mail.”
“That’s impossible,” Shari says, pulling her cell phone out of the pocket of her shorts. “I have my…Oh.” She squints at the screen in the moonlight. “I forgot to turn it on this morning.”
“I figured you’d dropped it in the toilet,” I said.
“Not this time,” Chaz says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to give me a quick welcoming hug. As he does so, he whispers, “Is there anybody back in England that I have to beat up? Because, with God as my witness, I’ll go over there and kick his scrawny naked ass for you. Just say the word.”
“No,” I assure him, laughing a little painfully. “It’s okay. Really. It’s as much my fault as it is his. I should have listened to you. You were right. You’re always right.”
“Not always,” Chaz says, dropping his arm. “It’s just that the times I’m wrong don’t register in your memory with as much clarity as the times I’m right. Still, go right ahead thinking I’m always right if you want to.”
“Cut it out, Chaz,” Shari says. “Who cares about what happened in England, anyway? She’s here now. It’s okay if she stays, right, Luke?”
“I don’t know,” Luke says teasingly. “Can she pull her weight? We don’t need any more slackers around here. We’ve already got this one.” He slaps Chaz on the shoulder.
“Hey,” Chaz says, “I’m helping out. I’m testing all the alcohol for purity and freshness before Luke’s mom gets here.”
Shari shakes her head at her boyfriend and says, “You’re insufferable.” To Luke, she says, “Lizzie’s superhandy. Well, with a needle. If you’ve got any seamstressy stuff to do…”
Luke seems surprised to learn that I can actually sew. Most people are. It’s not something many people know how to do anymore.
“I just might,” he says. “I’ll check with, ahem, Mom when she gets here tomorrow. But right now I think we have more pressing concerns-helping Chaz with the alcohol testing.”
“This way, ladies,” Chaz says, indicating, with a courtly bow, the path to the outdoor bar he’s apparently set up, “and gentleman.”
Shari and I follow the guys into the cool, slightly damp grass. As we get closer to the low stone wall, I glance over it and see the valley stretched below, the river-just as Chaz promised-winking in the moonlight like a long, silver snake. It is so beautiful my throat catches. I feel as if I am in a daze. Or a dream.
And I am not the only one.
“I can’t believe this,” Shari whispers, still hanging on to my arm. “What happened? I know I was pretty drunk last time I talked to you, but I thought you said you were going to try to work things out with Andy.”
“Yeah,” I whisper back. “Well, I did try. But then I found out-well, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you sometime when”-I nod my head in Luke and Chaz’s direction-“they’re not around.”
Although of course Luke already knows most of it.
Well, okay. All of it.
And I do mean all.
“Was it bad?” Shari asks, concern creasing her pretty face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “Really. I wasn’t before, but…” I glance in Luke’s direction again. “Well, I had a very sympathetic shoulder to cry on.”
Shari’s dark-eyed gaze follows mine. I see her eyebrows go up beneath her curly bangs. I wonder what she’s thinking. Not, I hope, Oh, poor little Lizzie, in love with a guy so out of her league.
Because I’m not. In love with him, I mean.
But all she says is, “Well, I’m glad about that. So your heart’s not broken?”
“You know,” I say thoughtfully, “I don’t think it is. A little bruised, is all. Is it really all right that I’m here? What’s Chaz talking about, Luke’s mom coming tomorrow?”
Shari grimaces. “Luke’s mom and dad are getting divorced, but apparently she-Mrs. de Villiers-promised her niece a long time ago that she could get married at Mirac. So she-Mrs. de Villiers, I mean-is arriving tomorrow, with her sister, the niece, the groom-the whole family. It should be a helluva party. Especially considering Luke’s parents are barely speaking, and he’s caught up in the middle of the whole thing. According to Chaz, Luke’s mom is some kind of battle-ax.”
I wince, remembering Dominique’s warning about Luke needing to get the brush along the driveway cleared before his mom’s arrival.
“So they won’t want me here,” I whisper, to make sure Luke doesn’t overhear us. I say they, but I mean Luke, of course. “I mean, I don’t want to crash-”
“Lizzie, it’s totally okay,” Shari says. “This place is huge, and there’s plenty of room. Even with Luke’s entire extended family here, there are rooms to spare. And there’ll be plenty to do. It’s actually good you’re here. We could use the help. Apparently this niece-Luke’s cousin, Vicky-is some kind of Texas socialite. She already browbeat Luke into making the trip to Paris and back just to pick up her dress from the fancy Parisian seamstress who made it, and she’s not even here yet. Plus, she’s apparently invited half of Houston for this wedding, including her brother’s garage band, who just got some kind of recording contract and are supposed to be the Next Hot Thing. So it’s not exactly going to be intimate.”
“Oh,” I say. “Well, good. Because I really couldn’t think what else to do other than come here. I couldn’t go home-”
“Of course you couldn’t,” Shari says, sounding horrified. “Your sisters would have had a field day!”
“I know,” I say. “So I just figured…well, you’d said it was okay to come here-”
“I’m so glad you did. I mean, look at the two of them.” She nods toward her boyfriend and Luke, who’ve drifted over to one of the wrought-iron tables and are mixing up some kind of concoction in fluted champagne glasses. “They’re like long-lost twins. All they do is yak, yak, yak about everything under the sun-Nietzsche, Tiger Woods, beer, the probability of coincident birth dates, the good old days at prep school. I’ve been feeling like a total third wheel.” She puts her arm around me. “But now I’ve got my own friend to yak with.”
“Well,” I say with a grin, “you know I’m always good for a bit of yaking. But what about Luke’s girlfriend, Dominique? You can’t yak with her?”
Shari makes a face. “Sure. If you want to yak about Dominique.”
“Oh,” I say. “I sort of got the idea, what with the flip-flops.”
“Really?” Shari looks interested. She’s always valued my fashion analyses. “They give you a bad vibe?”
“No,” I say hastily. “Nothing like that. Just sort of like she’s trying too hard. But then she’s Canadian. I think my radar is off when it comes to foreigners.”
Shari winces. “You mean Andy? Yeah, well, I always did wonder what you saw in him. But you’re not wrong about Dominique. Those flip-flops? They’re Manolo Blahniks.”
“No!” Manolo Blahnik flip-flops, I know from my Vogue perusing, can cost upward of six hundred dollars. “Gosh. I always wondered who bought them-”
“Hey, you two.” Chaz strolls across the moonlit grass toward us. “No shirking your duties. There’s alcohol to inspect.”
“Hang on.” Luke is one step behind him. “I’ve got their first test subjects here.” He hands each of us a champagne flute filled with sparkling liquid. “Kir royales,” he says, “with champagne made right here at Mirac.”
I don’t know what a kir royale is, but I’m game to try one. Dominique reappears and lays claim to a glass as well.