Wellesley Wives (New England Trilogy) (6 page)

They’d practically grown up with Jack in their lives. Rosie even remembered his first wife. She’d been in her teens when they broke up. She and Lily were at his wedding to Sandra, and here was her sister in a very compromising position with the man that was like a second father to them. How weird was that?

As quickly as possible, Jack backed away and escaped down the emergency stairs, incapable of waiting the seconds it would’ve taken for the elevator doors to reopen.

Rosie looked at her little sister. She smirked and gave a quizzical look. “Lily?”

Lily didn’t even bother to pretend or lie. It would’ve been futile. Instead, she scooped up her niece and walked back into her apartment. Rosie followed them and closed the door behind her.

“Can I make us some coffee? I think we need to talk.” Rosie walked into the kitchen as Lily focused all her attention on the duck coat and boots.

Natasha danced in a little circle so her aunt could fully appreciate the outfit.

“I was looking in the fridge for some low fat milk when, lo and behold, I found this bad boy open and looking forlorn,” she explained when Lily glanced up.

Her sister looked riddled with guilt, and Rosie was enjoying the sudden turn of events.

“Well, it would be flat in a matter of hours. Seems a bit of a waste not to drink it, right?”

Lily shrugged and wrapped her arms around her body like she was cold, and Rosie came to sit beside her.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Lily said, taking the glass of champagne she was offered.

“Oh, you’re not screwing Uncle Jack?” Rosie whispered, but her words were still brutal.

Lily gestured to Natasha as if to say: not in front of the child. But Rosie wasn’t going to let her daughter stop her from getting to the bottom of this.

“Natasha, if you watch
Sponge Bob
on Aunt Lily’s bedroom TV, I’ll buy you fries on the way home. Deal?”

“Yay!” She squealed and took off at top speed for her aunt’s room. Lily jumped just as fast. “Jeez, my room is a bit of a mess.”

Rosie sank back onto the deep, soft sofa, enjoying the moment.

How quickly things can change. She’d been so dreading facing her sister’s moral high ground when all the time she was the one with the morals of a pirate.

Lily returned a few moments later, only this time she was wearing a cashmere sweater and leggings. She pulled the sleeves down over her hands—her guilty “tell.”

“Come on,” Rosie said. “Spill the beans.” She patted the sofa next to her.

Lily did as she was ordered, but she sat on the edge of the cushion nervously. “I love him.”

“So do I—but in an uncle way, Lil.”

“No, I love him more than that,” she said with stronger conviction this time.

“So how long have you
loved
him?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand.” She flopped back onto the sofa.

“Try me.” Rosie took a swig of champagne.

“It’s been almost a year now. He and Sandra haven’t been getting along, and we go to the same gym.”

“And?”

“Oh come on, Rosie. Do you need to have every lurid detail?”

“That would be good.” She grinned, but then continued a little more seriously, “For God’s sake, Lily. All the guys in the world and you pick Dad’s partner to have an affair with. Jeez, he could be your father. He’s old enough.”

“Age doesn’t matter.”

“Not now, but it will in another twenty years. And what about kids? His daughters are the same age as we are. This is so wrong, little sis.”

Rosie felt anger beginning to rise. Here was her sister utterly remorseless, yet condemning her for doing something she hadn’t even done yet. “You know what, you’re some hypocrite. You’re having an affair with a man who’s already on his second wife. He happens to be a
very
close family friend, and you have the nerve to give me grief about—oh, I don’t know—experimenting. But at least it’s within the confines and honesty of my own marriage.”

Lily rose to her feet again. “See, this is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t understand. I figured you’d judge me like this just because I’m the other woman. You, of all people, Rosie. You claim to be open minded. You’ve known me longer than anybody else. I’m sure you know I don’t go out looking for trouble. I didn’t want this. I don’t want to hurt Sandra. To be honest, I even like her.” Then she sat down again. “The problem is, I like her husband even more.”

Rosie softened a little and began to rub her sister’s back the way she used to when they were little girls. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, do you think it’s a long-term affair or just something you’re doing at the moment?”

Lily swung around with a look of great intensity in her eyes. “I adore him. I want to be with him forever.”

Rosie shook her head gently. “You know, I envy you. I haven’t felt passion like that for years.”

This made Lily smile. “Yes, it’s really amazing.” She took her big sister’s free hand in hers. “It’s all-consuming. I really love him.”

Rosie drained her glass and stood. “The problem is, passion always fades, honey. It can’t last. It’s like fire. In its prime nothing is as intoxicating or as beautiful, but then it passes. And if you’re lucky, you’re left with the warm glow, and that’s if you’re lucky. If you’re unlucky, even that goes out, but I promise you one thing: the flames—the heat you feel now—that just doesn’t last.”

She put her glass on the mantelpiece and noticed the fire had died down. Poetic, she thought as she walked to the bedroom. Then she tried to use a happy voice for the sake of her daughter. “Come on, Natasha, it’s fries time.”

“You won’t tell anybody, will you?” Lily was staring at the floor.

“No, I’ll keep this quiet if you keep our conversation about my vacation plans to yourself.”

“I’ll even watch Natasha for you.”

“Leave that with me.” Rosie sighed. She didn’t want to blackmail Lily into babysitting. That didn’t feel right.

Lily walked them to the door. “See you at Mom’s tomorrow?”

“Yep, Marcus is coming. You won’t say anything to him, will you?” Rosie looked nervous. “I don’t want him to know I’ve told you.”

“No way. We’re both sworn to secrecy.” Lily tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

The sisters parted with polite, uncomfortable good-byes. Thankfully, Natasha seemed unaware of any undercurrents.

“I wanna press the button,” Natasha squealed, wriggling to get her hand free from her mother’s grasp. She got into the elevator and pressed
G
for the ground floor.

The doors glided closed smoothly, and Natasha looked at her mother.

“Bing,” she echoed the noise.

Rosie smiled down at the best thing in her life and nodded. “Bing.”

Chapter 5 

Dinner

Popsy threw open her front door to welcome her friends into the house. “Jack, Sandra, come in.” A large gust of wind and a few fall leaves made it in the door with her guests.

    “It’s turning into a bit of a wild one, I’m afraid,” Jack announced as he handed Popsy a bottle of champagne and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Jack, you know better than to bring a gift.”

“And you know better than to think I wouldn’t.” He laughed and removed his coat. “Big change in the weather. Have you heard? They say we’re going to get the tail-end of some hurricane that hit the south last week.”

“You know the weather people always get it wrong,” Sandra said as she slid out of her full-length mink.

Popsy wasn’t sure, but it sounded like they were already bickering. She tried to lighten the mood.

“Storm or no storm, I’m so relieved you’re the first here. We can have a drink and talk about the visitors before they arrive.” She smiled conspiratorially. As they walked past the doors to the dining room, Sandra commented, “You’ve pulled out the big guns tonight, I see.”

“Popsy always was the best hostess,” Jack agreed, but Sandra glared at him.

“What? Better than me? You don’t think I’m a good hostess anymore?”

Both Popsy and Jack looked at her in surprise. Sandra was very sensitive tonight, and Jack was having no part of it. Jack rolled his eyes but said nothing. Popsy realized with a little concern that there was definitely something in the air between the Hoffmans, and it certainly wasn’t chemistry. She also knew that it was up to her to lighten the mood because she was damned if her dinner party was going to be ruined by their arguing.

“Oh, he’s just charming me, Sandy.” Popsy forced a laugh. “You know that Jack only wants me to give him the biggest plate of my home cooking.”

“You cooked? Or Matilda?” he asked, poking fun at her and ignoring his wife.

Popsy’s maid was famous for her cooking, and since she’d moved in some twenty-nine years earlier, the kitchen had become her domain. The irony was that Popsy was actually a good cook, but Matilda was very territorial so Popsy left her to it. The only time that she got a chance to sneak back into the kitchen now was when the housekeeper had a day off.

Popsy gently elbowed Jack. “You know what I mean, mister. It’s my cooking if I paid for it. I have to admit that I do have caterers in. Even Matilda deserves some time off.”

He winked at her. “Just teasing. Where’s Peter?”

“He’s in the study poring over spread sheets again.” Popsy sighed. “I’d much rather he was pouring the champagne, but I suppose I’ll have to do that myself.”

Jack straightened. “I’m sure he would, too, Pops. Today was rough.”

She’d already heard this from her husband. “I’m sorry it didn’t go as planned.”

Jack shrugged as if it was nobody’s fault in particular, then excused himself.

The men had been trying to put together a particularly complex financial arrangement with their new European business associates. To the best of her knowledge, all five men had been locked away in a Boston hotel room all day and this evening’s meal, when it was booked some weeks back, was meant to be the bonding session—post the deal’s closure.

The problem was that Peter came home early saying that everything had fallen through. There was just too big a gap between how far the European team was willing to go and where Peter and Jack were able to meet them. There would have to be further discussions. That also meant that tonight was going to be strained, as opposed to celebratory.

Not exactly a good way to start a night. She sighed. For this reason she was delighted that Sandra and Jack had arrived first.

While the men talked tactics in the study, the women headed for the kitchen. Popsy needed to check on the caterers, and Sandra needed a drink.

“This isn’t good, is it?” Sandra asked.

Popsy didn’t understand. “Wild Alaskan salmon en croute? I thought of doing a clam chowder to start, but that’s a bit predictable, don’t you think?”

Sandra waved her hand. “I don’t mean the food. I mean the deal.”

“You mean for C&J Industries?” Popsy handed her guest a glass of champagne and took one for herself.

“Yes.”

Popsy relaxed a little. C&J industries was the name given to the network of businesses their husbands ran together. It was originally called “Cap & Jet Industries,” but it had been abbreviated years before. She and Sandra headed for the comfort of the drawing room.

“Don’t panic about the boys. They’re always complaining about these deals, but they do come off at the last minute. Wait till you see. By lunchtime tomorrow, it will all be settled.”

Sandra didn’t look convinced, but she seemed glad to hear such optimism. Then Popsy pulled her closer. “Now on to more important matters. How are you and . . .” She didn’t say Jack’s name but gestured with her head toward the study.

Sandra sighed. “I don’t know. In all honesty, he’s driving me crazy. I think he knows I’m up to something because he actually turned me down for action before we came out this evening.”

Popsy was just about to take a sip but pulled the glass away from her mouth. “What?
Action
action?”

“Yes,” Sandra whispered urgently. “Sex—action.” She took a large gulp of her bubbles. “You don’t think he knows I’ve had the coil taken out, do you?”

“You had it taken out? When? Why didn’t you tell me? Popsy took Sandra by the arm and guided her friend to the oversized antique sofa.

“I didn’t tell anybody,” Sandra said. “I’m telling you now though, aren’t I? Look, you don’t suppose he can, you know, feel a difference?” Sandra glanced at her groin and back at Popsy with a meaningful look.

Popsy tilted her head. “I doubt it. You could ask him.”

“But then he’d know I’ve had it taken out.”

“So he doesn’t know you’re skydiving without a parachute, so to speak.”

Sandra gave Popsy a blank look. “
Skydiving?
” Popsy always came up with the weirdest pseudonyms for sex.

“You know what I mean,” Popsy whispered. “I don’t want to say ‘having sex’ in case the help hears.”

Sandra shrugged. “I don’t think Jack knows anything, but as I said, we’re not doing a lot of skydiving, as you put it, right now. How can I get pregnant if I can’t convince him to skydive in the first place?” she whispered.

Popsy’s mind raced. This was all happening so fast. Sandra could be making the biggest mistake of her life, but then again, it was her life.

“Are you sure, really sure you want to take this step alone, without discussing it with your husband?”

“I can’t talk to him,” she replied. “It’s this way or no way. Besides, there’s a darn good chance nothing will happen at all. As we discussed the other day, I’m forty-five. Maybe I’m too old.”

Popsy disagreed. “If you haven’t hit menopause, you’re not too old. I remember my doctor saying that. In fact, they call it the ‘sting of the dying bee.’ ”

Just then, one of the caterers entered the room to freshen their glasses, so the ladies fell silent for a moment, but as soon as he was gone, Sandra spoke. “Tell me about the dying bee thingy.”

“Well, I heard that when a bee knows it is going die, it will often sting just for the heck of it—just to go out in a blaze of glory, if you know what I mean. You need to watch out for bees in the fall. Nasty bunch.” Popsy shook her head and studied her glass as she thought about the bees.