29
“Do you think this is smart?” Nancy asked.
I sighed. “It’s not a date.”
“Well, I know that,” Nancy said, taking a sip of her cocktail. “You’d have told me if it was. But it’s going to look that way to everyone else.”
I shook my head. “We’ve been here for hours, and I’ve barely even spoken to him. He’s working the crowd.” We both looked over to where he stood in a group of men. From the occasional laughter we heard, it certainly sounded like he was charming them as he had their wives.
Paula Rosenblum walked over to us, a drink in her hand. “Hi,” she said, using the hand that wasn’t holding her glass to shield her eyes from the setting sun behind us. “Is it true that you’re dating the senator?”
“How many of those have you had?” Nancy asked. “He’s not a senator. He’s running for the Senate, and he’s Bev’s boss.”
She waved her hand around, sloshing some of her drink. “Tomato, tomahto. And from what I heard, being someone’s boss doesn’t prevent affairs.”
Nancy stood up, hands balled into fists, and I grabbed her arm, yanking her back down onto the chaise longue she had been sitting on. “I’m still married,” I said. “And even if I weren’t, I’m not dating anyone. But thank you so much for your concern. Always lovely to see you, Paula.”
Paula stood there, about to say something else, but Nancy beat her to it. “That means scram.”
Paula gave her a dirty look, then turned to leave, taking a large gulp of her drink, and narrowly avoiding walking into the pool.
“Tell your buddies over there you have a drinking problem if you need something to gossip about,” Nancy called after her, loudly.
“Nance!”
“What?” she asked. “I didn’t like her before, and I don’t like her better after that.”
“We’re not going to have any friends left between the people who think I’m an adulterer and the people you offend.”
“Who needs other friends? Besides, they’re not our friends if they’re going to talk behind our backs.”
I chuckled and shook my head again. “You’ve got a point, but I need them to vote for Michael, so we have to be nice. At least until the election.”
Nancy nodded sagely, leaning back against her chair and taking another sip of her drink. “Fine. I’ll be nice—nicer, I mean—to people to help you win your revenge campaign. But I’m not promising I won’t push Paula into the pool.”
“She’ll fall in soon enough on her own at this rate.”
Nancy held out her glass, and I clinked mine to it. “He is handsome though,” Nancy said. “Did he look this good at that lunch, or am I drunk?”
“Both?”
She winked at me. “Cheers.” She finished her drink and signaled to a waiter for another. “You would tell me though if something was going on, right?”
I felt a twinge of guilt. But nothing had happened. I had imagined some flirting. That was all. “I would tell you.”
“Uh-oh,” Nancy said.
“Nancy, there’s nothing going on.”
“Not that. Your father is here.” She pointed across the pool.
“What?” I followed the line of her arm. There he stood, in a seersucker suit that had seen better days. “Oh boy. This isn’t going to end well.”
“You didn’t know he was coming?”
I shook my head. “I just hope Mama doesn’t make a scene.”
“How many deep is she?”
“Mama? She can drink us both under the table.” I watched as he greeted some friends. “He needs a haircut desperately.”
Nancy nodded. “He’s got that Ebenezer Scrooge look going on.”
I started laughing despite myself. “You’re terrible.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
Before I could reply, my mother approached him, striding over with furious, long steps. “And now the fireworks.” They were too far away to hear, but she had a finger in his face, and people were staring. “I’d better go break this up.”
I made my way around the pool, where a crowd had gathered around them. “—just show up out of nowhere, looking like you live on the streets,” she was saying. “No word, no calls—”
“You told me not to call you.”
“And you listened to that?”
“Mama, Papa, people are staring,” I said.
“Let them stare,” my mother said. “For thirty years, I stayed behind him and pretended he was the Messiah. But I’m not having another holiday ruined. No sir. Not this time.”
“Millie, I miss you—”
“You miss having someone to take care of you, but I’m not your mother. That’s not my job.”
“Enough,” I said. “I’m here working, and you’re ruining everything I’m trying to do.”
“Working?” my father said, turning around to look for where Michael was. But his arm swung out and knocked me off balance. And suddenly I was swimming.
I surfaced, sputtering in surprise. “Now look what you’ve done,” Mama said. “Go home, Bernie.”
My father’s shoulders sank. “I’m sorry, Beverly,” he said. “I thought—” He shook his head. “No. It was stupid.” He looked back at my mother. “I’m sorry, Millie.”
She crossed her arms and turned away, saying nothing.
“That’s okay. Everyone ignore your daughter in the pool,” I said.
Then a hand reached down to help me. I looked up and saw Michael. Behind him it seemed like the whole club was staring at us. If I took his hand, the gossip was going to be brutal. If I didn’t, there would be whispers about a tiff. So I did the only logical thing.
I grabbed his hand and yanked him down into the pool as well.
“Really?” he asked me when he came up. Everyone was staring, mouths agape. “Is it too late to fire you?”
I shrugged. “Yes. Besides, I told you to bring a suit.” He started to laugh as the first firework went off in the sky above us. With the assembled crowd distracted, I hoisted myself out of the pool. “I’d offer to help you out, but you know what they say about payback. Let’s dry off and then head out as soon as the fireworks are done. I need to get the kids to bed before too long.”