Willow sighed euphorically. “That sounds so lovely. I’d be thrilled to be a part of your enterprise. I’ll need to wrap up my life in New York and find an apartment to rent down here first.” She looked at James from beneath her lashes. “Does Francis live in an apartment? Maybe he knows of a vacancy in his building.”
“No. He and Scott live in an apartment in a converted garage, but there’s a brand new complex not too far from town you could check out. For the price of your Manhattan studio you could probably get a three-bedroom palace in Quincy’s Gap.”
Willow and Milla continued to brainstorm about their future endeavor while two waiters arrived bearing their entrées. James watched with delight as the heavy platters were placed on the table.
“Beautiful!” Aunt Wheezie shouted with glee and James felt like doing the same. Before him was an Italian feast featuring slices of veal saltimbocca slathered in brown sauce and melted mozzarella, thin pieces of chicken piccata embellished with paper-thin slivers of lemon, mounds of fettuccini Alfredo mixed with prosciutto and peas, salmon filets flavored with lemon and herbs, and lobster tortellini in a creamy tomato basil sauce.
Having already consumed a large serving of spinach salad, James was determined to make good choices during this part of the meal, so he helped himself to a salmon filet and half a chicken cutlet. Every bite of the rich fare was delicious, and it took an iron will to steer clear of the enticing but undoubtedly fattening noodle dishes. No one else was skimping on samples, however, and James couldn’t believe how much food the party was able to consume.
With two glasses of wine and excellent food in his belly, James was having a hard time viewing his tablemates with a suspicious eye. Even Chase, who had warmed up conspicuously due to the entire bottle of wine he drank, was joking around with Bennett as though they were old friends.
Everyone was laughing and rosy-cheeked, and it wasn’t until James left to use the restroom that he became aware of a familiar figure sitting at the bar. Lucy was wearing a baggy gray wool coat over jeans and a black turtleneck. Her head was slightly bent and her hair partially obscured her face. A half-filled cup of coffee sat between her hands and James realized she had been watching them in the mirror behind the bar.
“How long have you been here?” he asked without looking directly at her.
“Since your appetizer course.”
James felt a pang of pity for Lucy. She was utterly outside the circle of camaraderie and, instead, sat at the bar like a brooding P.I. from a vintage detective story. “Did you have anything to eat?”
Lucy nodded. Through clenched teeth, she whispered. “Go away, James. I’ve heard a lot sitting here, and I can’t listen if you’re talking to me. Besides, someone might notice.”
Thus dismissed, James remained in the bathroom until his countenance, flushed with injured pride, returned to a relatively normal hue. By the time he resumed his seat, the dinner party was busy sampling squares of tiramisu, miniature chocolate-covered cannoli, and slices of triple-berry cheesecake. James noticed that in his absence, fatigue and stuffed bellies had forced the assemblage to grow more taciturn, and he was relieved when the waiter finally presented the check to Chase.
“Just tell us what we owe you, my dear.” Milla fished her wallet out of her purse. “I’m helpless with dividing up checks after only one glass of wine.”
“There’s no need,” Chase replied magnanimously. “I’ll take care of it.” He slid a gold card on top of the check and handed the server book to the waiter.
As the rest of the party thanked Chase effusively, aware that their meal had cost hundreds of dollars, Chloe began to sulk unattractively.
“He can afford to be generous,” she whined as Chase’s attention was diverted when his Waterman pen rolled under the next table.
Willow gazed at Chloe in sympathy. “I know. It’s a messed-up world when lawyers make more than teachers or firemen or animal rescuers, right?”
Chloe nodded but was determined to be petulant. “It’s not just the huge salary he collects by ruining the lives of those wronged by drug companies. Mother’s left him all her money too. I’m totally broke, but I won’t get a dime because I didn’t follow the recipe she laid out for my life. Chase did everything she wanted, and that’s why he gets the big payoff.”
“I guess that’s going to be a fair amount of money,” James mused aloud.
“Royalties from her cookbooks and product endorsements alone will allow him to buy that house in the Hamptons. Now he can set up his latest mistress in style. I wonder how his wife would feel about that!” Chloe seethed, and James was taken aback by what now appeared to be a rather mercurial personality.
Chase had overheard that last bit and colored angrily. “You and your sea cows. If you hadn’t pissed mother off at every turn and then married a loser who got so drunk that he fell off his own boat and drowned, then you’d be sitting pretty too.” He signed his credit card receipt with a violent scrawl. “Let’s go, Wheezie. We’d better take you back to the roach motel before you fall face-first into the tiramisu. Willow? I’m assuming you need a ride,” he added ungraciously, all traces of his alcohol-induced gaiety gone.
“We’ll take her back to the Widow’s Peak,” James answered on Willow’s behalf, and Milla gave him a grateful smile.
Straightening his tie, Chase pushed back his chair, threw his napkin on the seat, and strode from the room without waiting to see whether his aunt and sister were ready to leave.
“Party’s over!” Wheezie declared with less energy than before, and she seemed to shrink into herself. Chloe mutely helped her aunt into her coat and then left, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Willow and the supper club members stood up and gathered their coats and purses. James turned around to examine the bar area and saw that Lucy was already gone.
“Yes, the party’s over,” he said to Lindy as he helped her with her coat. “But now we’ve got a lot to talk about at the memorial service.”
TEN
James woke on December twenty-fourth to the sound of Milla’s hand blender. He only had a half-day of work ahead of him, but with Paulette’s funeral services scheduled for that evening, he’d been hoping to eat a peaceful breakfast while finishing the last chapter of The Thirteenth Tale. From then, he planned to move sedately through a quiet day. After showering and dressing for work, he arrived in the kitchen to find Milla baking, Jackson repairing the garbage disposal under the sink, and the coffee pot empty.
“I like your Santa tie,” Milla shouted over the whir of the mixer.
So much for quiet, he thought.
Smoothing a small crinkle in his holiday tie, which featured Santa and several reindeer reading a book in front of a fireplace, James held out his clean coffee cup in accusation. “You’ve been up a while.”
“Dear oh dear,” Milla clucked. “We’ve gone and left you high and dry. Let me just get these in the oven, and I’ll brew you a fresh pot. Can I fix you breakfast?”
James eyed the array of dirty bowls, wooden spoons, cake pans, and deflated bags of flour and sugar. “No thanks. I’m just going to toast a Kashi waffle and have some fruit. I think you’ve got enough going on here already. Are you planning to feed cake to the entire town today?”