Regrets Only (7 page)

She
had to concede this was true, so she pulled out a pad and began making notes
for the short speech she would have to give at dinner, thanking all the
sponsors, pushing the auction, introducing the High’s executive director, and finally,
welcoming Dylan to the stage. She’d have to write his speech, too, of course.
They certainly couldn’t risk his getting up there and talking about bass
fishing for fifteen minutes.

Despite
her good intentions, however, letting Suzanne work in quiet was not in Mrs.
Thompson’s wheelhouse. Suzanne had been scribbling for less than five minutes
when she piped up. “You’re looking forward to the baby?”

“Absolutely,”
Suzanne said reflexively. “So excited for them.”

“They’ll
be great parents,” Mrs. Thompson said. Then more softly she added, “Jake does a
nice job balancing Marci out, don’t you think? He’ll keep her on the right
track.”

Suzanne
nodded. “Definitely.”

“And
of course you know Nicky and Ravi are pregnant again, too. My grandbabies are
tripling!”

She
hadn’t known this, but it wasn’t surprising either. Marci’s little sister and
her husband were surprisingly natural parents with their daughter Ayanna, who
was coffee-colored, intensely cute, and completely spoiled. Suzanne had never
doubted they would make more babies. She squelched the pang of jealousy—jealous
of what, she couldn’t say—and smiled at her best friend’s mother. “It’s wonderful,
Elaine.”

She
knew what would be coming next. The same thing had happened when Jake and Marci
got engaged (both times) and for the entire month before and after their
wedding. Well-meaning aunts, neighbors, friends—even her own mother—had joined
together in a constant refrain.
So, when will we hear the good news about
you? Haven’t you found a nice boy yet? You’re so pretty—don’t keep them waiting
too long.

One
officious relative, Marci’s venerable Great-Aunt Mildred, had gone so far as to
squeeze Suzanne’s breasts like bicycle horns at a wedding shower, saying
something about every melon having an expiration date. Suzanne had been mortified.

But
when Mrs. Thompson spoke, it was something equally unexpected. “Have I told you
lately how proud I am of you?” she asked. Her tone was so motherly and
intimate, Suzanne glanced up to see whether Marci had returned from the grocery
store with Jake, and were standing behind her unnoticed. But they weren’t back
yet.

“I
hope you don’t mind my saying so, but I’ve always thought of you as my third
daughter, Suze. I’ve watched you grow up, and I’m so very proud of who you have
become and everything that you have accomplished. Arthur and I read the Style
section every weekend, looking for pictures of you at all those charity
functions.”

Suzanne’s
cheeks burned. She felt herself squirming under Mrs. Thompson’s gaze. “Oh…” she
muttered, staring intently at the neat rows of rhinestones building from the
front of her cast. “All I do is get dressed up and plan parties for rich
people. It feels like such a silly job sometimes.”

“Maybe
it does, but just think of all the real people you have helped. You may not
have met them in person, but all those charities would flounder and die without
the support of silly rich people.” Elaine was smiling now. “Besides, I know
what you do behind the scenes is damn hard work.”

Suzanne
didn’t know how to respond to this. It was embarrassing, and wonderful. She
settled for a simple, “Thank you, Elaine.”

“Do
me a favor,” Mrs. Thompson went on, pausing to focus on her work up close, and then
looking intently at Suzanne over half-moon reading glasses. “Don’t ever let
anyone tell you that you should be anything other than what you are. Ever.”

Suzanne
could not pinpoint the emotion that washed over her, exactly. Perhaps it was
the painkillers or sleep deprivation, but she felt for a moment as though she
could pour herself into Mrs. Thompson’s lap like a child and weep for hours. She
desperately, absurdly, wanted her best friend’s mother to reach out and stroke
her hair or touch her cheek. With the same intensity, she wanted to pull back
her immobilized arm and run away, to plunge herself into a task that would
require her complete focus.

Either
Elaine did not notice this, or she was kind enough to pretend to be absorbed in
her work. The only further acknowledgment of their conversation was a few
moments later, when Elaine had finished applying the rhinestones and gently
squeezed Suzanne’s manicured fingertips, which were sticking out of her cast.

Chad
Gwynn’s phone blared “The Bitch is Back”
at nine Saturday morning, three
hours before he was supposed to meet Suzanne at the High. David looked over the
top of his newspaper, scowling. “I thought you weren’t on duty until noon?”

“I’m
not.” Chad had been reaching instinctively for the phone, but paused under
David’s glare. Elton John stopped singing and the phone was silent.

“She
has no right to call you now. It’s Saturday morning, for Christ’s sake. The
only day we get to sit and have coffee together. Isn’t it enough that you’re
giving her twelve hours later today?”

Chad
hesitated. David was right, of course, but the phone on the table between them
might as well have been on fire, for all he could ignore it. As if reading his
thoughts, the phone dinged again with the voicemail notification. Chad tried to
go back to the crossword puzzle he’d been doing, but he could only stare at the
same two clues. He wondered what Suzanne wanted.

Fifteen
minutes went by and the phone rang again. David rolled his eyes and looked
accusingly at Chad, as though somehow he had made it happen. Chad knew it was difficult
for David to understand what working for a high-profile event planner really
meant. David had gone for his paralegal certificate within months after they
left college, and had found the job in the wills and estates division of an
enormous firm less than a year later. He walked or biked seven blocks to work
from their Midtown apartment every morning at eight, was free to do whatever he
liked at lunch, and was generally home cooking dinner or out having cocktails
with coworkers by six.

Chad’s
schedule, on the other hand, came in waves. At times it seemed he worked around
the clock, especially if he and Suzanne were doing several events in the same
week or for something major like this gala. Then there were slower times,
particularly the hottest parts of the summer, when he would work less than twenty
hours a week, half of which were spent cleaning out storage closets or being
dragged around on tangentially related errands with Suzanne.

In
July or August, it was not unusual for Chad to find himself halfway through a pitcher
of margaritas by three in the afternoon after touring a new conference venue or
golf course. Or he would start his day poring tediously over their client
files, only to be unceremoniously dismissed by Suzanne midafternoon if the
weather was nice out. These were the days he would wander to the farmers’
market to get fresh ingredients for dinner, or surprise David by cleaning the
apartment before he got home.

David,
however, did not seem to agree that those days balanced out moments like this
one. He had a strict dividing line between his work and personal life, and
seemed to view it as an affront when one intruded on the other. But as systematized
and efficient as Chad and Suzanne had become, the big events never seemed to
lend themselves to automation. Chad often felt that he was on call for Suzanne
the way a surgeon might be for a hospital. David had scoffed at this
comparison.

Still,
there was the phone on the table between them, singing defiantly into their
unspoken conversation. Chad’s fingers itched to answer it. “It
is
the
biggest event we’ve ever done,” he offered gently. “Maybe I should at least see
what she wants.”

“I’ll
do it,” David snapped, snatching the phone off the table. Now it was Chad’s
turn to glare. On the one hand, David’s protectiveness of their time together
was sweet. On the other, his partner’s tendency toward the dramatic was
sometimes misguided.

“Come
on, we’ve talked about this. You knew when I took this job—”

But
his protests were futile. David answered in a huff, standing to move out of
Chad’s reach as he did. “Suzanne, it’s David. Do you see what time it is? Do
the clocks at your house say noon for some reason? Because you have some nerve
calling Chad three hours early—”

Anger
and embarrassment rose in Chad’s throat as the rant continued. When the
occasion presented itself for the three of them to be together, Suzanne and
David normally got along fine. In fact, they had matching temperaments. Today,
however, was not a good day. Dylan Burke’s event was the biggest thing they had
done so far, and if it went well, it could mean more high-profile jobs for her
and maybe a raise for Chad. He was planning to get an MBA in a couple of years
and some extra savings would come in handy during graduate school. David just
didn’t seem to understand that.

“Mmm-hmm,”
David said following a short silence, and stepped outside on the balcony. Chad
couldn’t read his tone.
Shit.
He wanted to follow David outside and
snatch the phone back from him, but he knew from experience that he would
rather have Suzanne mad at him than the love of his life. He could get another
job if need be, but there was only one David.

After
a minute or two, the latter came back in, put the phone on the table, and sat
to read his paper in silence. Chad stared at him. “Well?”

David
lowered the paper, looking sheepish. “You’d better get to the office,” he said.

The
anger Chad had been suppressing transformed into a smile that crept over his
face. He worked to hold it back. “Why, David?” he asked in mock innocence.
“Surely you don’t mean to say there was a
reason
my boss called me at
nine o’clock on Saturday morning, do you?”

David
was indignant. “Sometimes she calls for ridiculous reasons; you at least have
to give me that!”

“I
do give you that,” Chad said mildly. “What about today?”

A
tremendous sigh. “It seems,” David said with reluctance to the coffee cup in
front of Chad, “that Suzanne fell off a ladder last night and broke her arm. She
needs you to come early because she can’t lift anything.”

“And?”
Chad said, sensing there was something else. He felt bad for Suzanne, but was enjoying
David’s rare moment of embarrassment.

David’s
face morphed from indignant to embarrassed as he paused before admitting defeat.
He pressed his lips together. “And…I’m coming by later to help out as well.”

Chad
laughed. David kicked him under the table. They stared at each other,
half-smiling, half-confrontational, until Chad got up and kissed David on the
forehead. “How about, next time you have a problem with my work, let me handle
it, okay?”

David
pulled him close and nuzzled Chad’s stomach with the top of his head, nodding. Chad
rubbed David’s close-shaven skull in response, and then pushed him back gently
when he began to feel more emotion than he had time to handle today. “Fine,” David
muttered. “But we’re going to Bacchanalia for dinner next weekend. And you’re
leaving that damn phone at home.”

“Deal,”
said Chad, and left the room to get dressed.

#

The
next few hours at the High Museum were annoying. On top of the additional work,
Suzanne anxiously barked orders at both Chad and Jake, and later on at David as
well. It was nice of Marci’s husband to help out, but not only did he and Chad
have almost nothing in common, Suzanne kept forgetting who she had asked to do
what. Jake spent most of his time trying to figure out what he was supposed to
be doing. Marci was around, too, though she wasn’t doing much in the way of
physical activity.

Still,
the day moved quickly thanks to all the activity. The rental company had
hoisted three enormous tents and a temporary stage in the museum courtyard the
night before. The minute the High’s admissions door closed for the evening, workers
in matching lime green t-shirts materialized from nowhere and swarmed beneath
the canopies like ants. Soon the tented areas were filled with tables, chairs,
lights, and equipment as if by magic. David showed up in his best suit and Chad
allowed himself a thrill of pride before putting his partner to work.

Chad
oversaw the decoration of all the tables, including linens, flowers, duct tape centerpieces,
and mason jars full of artificial fireflies they’d special ordered online.
Despite his initial objections when Suzanne pitched the idea, the whole effect
was actually quite charming. He and Jake hung seventy-five alternating strands
of tiny mirrors and white Christmas lights behind the stage. Larger white
lights crisscrossed above the tables, creating the illusion of a summer that in
reality was still a couple of months away.

Chad
set up the registration tables, supervised the arrangement of auction items and
bid sheets, and helped Suzanne brief each group of volunteers. Before he knew
it, the first cocktail dresses and tuxedos were emerging from cars at the valet
stand.

All
things considered, he thought, Suzanne seemed to be holding up reasonably well
given her lack of sleep and what must be a painful injury. She flitted about in
her stunning size six black cocktail dress and sparkly cast, with her long
blonde hair wrapped in an elegant chignon, solving problems and patting
everyone on the back with her unbroken arm. She had a beauty queen’s smile, and
more important, she knew how to make every person she encountered feel as
though the smile was just for them. That concentrated charm was one of the
qualities Chad had tasked himself with learning from her before he left this
job.