ANDREA
B y nine o’clock she felt she had done her duty. She had drunk two glasses of chardonnay, she had eaten six hors d’oeuvres, she had listened to Phoebe’s speech, which honored Tess and Greg in a way that Andrea herself should have thought of had she not been so pathetically inward-looking, and she had wept a few tears without breaking down. She had even danced with Eddie to their favorite Sinatra tune. In Andrea’s mind, she deserved a bronze star for outstanding courage.
But now she was ready to go.
“Already?” Ed said. “It’s only five minutes to nine. The band is playing until midnight.”
The thought of having to hold herself together for three more hours nearly brought Andrea to her knees. “I want to go home,” she said.
“Another hour,” Ed said.
“Now,” Andrea said. “Poor Kacy—”
“Delilah’s not even here yet, so poor Kacy nothing. And when the twins do get home, she’ll put them to bed and make fifteen dollars an hour for watching TV.”
“Ed,” Andrea said, “I can’t stay.”
Addison approached them, holding a drink. He was glassy-eyed.
“Are you drunk?” Andrea said.
“Exhausted,” he said. “I haven’t been sleeping.”
“Something on your mind?” the Chief asked.
Addison said, “If I thought I could sneak out of here without Phoebe’s beheading me, I would.”
“My savior,” Andrea said. “Will you take me home?”
The Chief’s eyes lit up. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” Addison said.
“You’re okay to drive?” the Chief asked.
“I’m okay.”
“I’ll drive,” Andrea said.
“Are you coming back?” the Chief asked Addison.
“Not if I can help it,” Addison said. “Phoebe has her own car. She came early, she has to stay late.”
“I’ll stay with Phoebe,” the Chief said. “And Jeffrey. And Delilah is coming.”
“She better be,” Andrea said. “She doesn’t get a free pass to miss this if I don’t.”
“We’ll cover for you,” the Chief said. He kissed Andrea goodbye.
Andrea took off her shoes and walked barefoot with Addison to his car. Addison was whistling, as happy as she was to be sprung free. They climbed into his Mercedes, which had deep, soft seats and the intoxicating smell of expensive leather. There was an empty highball glass in the console.
“You drank on the way out here?” she asked.
He said, “Don’t tell the Chief.”
She said, “Well, please don’t kill us on the way home.”
He said, “Would it really matter if I did?”
She looked out the window, at the moors rushing by. It was a beautiful night, there was a moon, the party had been nice, Phoebe’s gift was inspired—and yet Andrea had a hard time feeling anything. Would it matter if she died tonight?
She said, “Tess had a lover.” Her breath put a mist on the car window.
Addison said, “Do you want to come to my house and have a glass of wine?”
“Okay,” she said.