A Sundog Moment Page 9

  He had never thought much of Carol, even though he had known her as long as he’d known his wife. In those days, Carol had always been hanging around, always interrupting, Michael felt. Since friends always surrounded Carol, he had never noticed that despite the circle in which she always seemed to be the center, she was basically a loner. She didn’t relate to people on anything but a superficial level. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had never met a stranger. People would spill their guts, their most intimate secrets, to Elizabeth within a dramatically short time of meeting her. It was one of many qualities about her cousin that Carol envied.

  But Michael never saw that. He just saw the cousin who needed Elizabeth more than she was needed. The fact Elizabeth remained staunchly her cousin’s best friend and loyal supporter was just a burden that had to be endured.

  Neither Michael nor Carol realized the simple truth about each other: They were both jealous because they each loved Elizabeth.

  Whatever the reason Gordon found to be around Carol, Michael was just glad the situation this Friday had worked itself out. He wouldn’t have to worry.

  Elizabeth stood inside her closet, fingering dresses suitable for a night on the town. Something glittery, her cousin said. Elizabeth smiled. She could accommodate. The closet was arranged not only to maximize space but also for coordination. Slacks and suits hung with appropriate accessories and shoes aligned underneath. Casual clothes, dress clothes, then formalwear and cocktail dresses. Coats were hung at the other end, again with other appropriate outerwear. Elizabeth’s style was classic. She loved finding the right outfit and then making it her own by adding unusual jewelry or scarves tied dramatically.

  She was a confident shopper. When she wore an outfit it was right from top to bottom, inside out. Whatever she chose for tonight would already have matching shoes and bag, and since it was cool out, an evening wrap.

  At the designated time, Elizabeth was more than ready—she was ripe for adventure. Clad in a black, tea-length silk dress, she wore the matching high stiletto shoes without a second thought. Michael looked at her feet with a frown but chose not to say anything. She wouldn’t have listened because there was no way to wear anything but very high heels with this dress. The shoes had glitter to match the sparkles on the sweetheart neckline.

  The front doorbell chimed and Michael went with her to answer the door. There on the front steps was a uniformed driver, hat in hand.

  Gleaming in the curving driveway was a white stretch limousine.

  “Looks like your date decided to get fancy,” Michael remarked with a grin, giving his giddy wife a hug. She left a red kiss on his cheek, whispering, “Don’t wait up!”

  He watched the chauffeur escort his wife, his grin tightening. “Like hell I won’t,” he murmured under his breath.

  “These things are wonderful, but they are hard to get in and out of,” Elizabeth exclaimed as she climbed into the car. Finally seated, she turned to see not one, but two companions.

  “Gordon!” Elizabeth was stunned. She looked at Carol, who was laughing so hard she was shaking. “I thought you said no men.”

  Overcome by hilarity, Carol could barely catch her breath. “He’s . . . he’s not a man, he’s here as m-my doctor, for quality control.” She slapped her hands against her legs and then Elizabeth saw the uncorked champagne. “Starting without me, eh?”

  Carol finally stopped laughing long enough to explain. “Gordon invited himself tonight, so he’s not a man, he’s coming for you, too. He insisted on coming for our protection, but I don’t believe it. I think he’s coming to be our old man and keep us out of trouble.” Again a squirt of laughter, causing more champagne to spill as she tried to refill her glass.

  “She’s only had two so far,” Gordon said as he took the bottle away and poured a small amount into Carol’s glass and offered one to Elizabeth, who shook her head.

  “Really, she’s only had two?” Elizabeth frowned.

  Gordon shrugged. “That I’ve seen. I don’t know how much she had before I got to her house.”

  “She didn’t pick you up?” That was a surprise.

  “I wanted to have my own car, just in case.” He wouldn’t say anything more.

  Cary Town, a long cluster of blocks and blocks of upscale dining, specialty shops, and clothing stores, catered to every age, shape, and size, male and female and in between. On the weekend it also flowed with nightlife. The Byrd Theatre anchored one of several corners, its grand architecture a nostalgic icon from the early days of cinema. It now catered to a sophisticated film viewer, offering rarely seen classics and richly made foreign films. Although it was a highly respectable and safe part of the city, streets slicing through it led to other shadowed, at times ominous, areas.

  The car rolled farther east, continuing to stop at a variety of establishments. Carol would look out the window and see something she liked, demand the driver to stop, and they would follow her in. At each stop, Carol insisted on buying everyone at the bar the house specialty, consume it herself as Gordon and Elizabeth slowly sipped, and then she would lead them like the pied piper back to the car.

  The car inched farther along until they got to the Shockoe Slip, a popular area of bars and restaurants that beckoned professionals working in the downtown district to come, relax, and find company. The Slip, so named for the Shacquaohocan Creek that once flowed through the area, was a jewel that fed the city’s economy.

  They had actually stayed at the Tobacco Warehouse bar for almost an hour because Carol had become friendly with the pianist, who was delighted to allow her the chance to finger out some hot jazz on his piano. Surprisingly, she played with competence, even passion, with no hint of the influence of the many drinks that now flowed through her bloodstream.

  They had moved yet deeper down into the Shockoe Bottom, where the upscale butted heads with a less-discriminating crowd looking for a good time. There had been a recent murder outside a Bottom’s bar.

  Elizabeth had not had much to drink by Carol’s standards, but too much by her own. At the last place, vodka had been served and, thinking it was wine, she drank more than she should have. And didn’t like it.

  Elizabeth had never been much of a drinker. She had followed friends to bars in college, not because she desired an evening of shared drunkenness, but to watch. She had never understood the allure of a room filled with strangers, determined to contrive an intimacy made hazy—and thereby acceptable—by alcohol.

  She wasn’t drunk, she assured Gordon as they stumbled back into the car, even while Carol emitted gales of loud, meaningless laughter. When Carol insisted they stop a half block down the street, Gordon kept a hard grip on each of them, guiding them toward a bar/restaurant with a doorman in whose pocket Carol stashed a hundred-dollar bill.

  Inside to the right of the main restaurant was a rich mahogany counter that was centered on the sidewall; on the back wall was a live band. The music was beating a contagious rhythm that vibrated the marble floor, which was covered with people doing a variety of dances, some moving with the beat, others to a rhythm in their heads.

  At least the clientele was made up of mostly suits, Elizabeth thought with relief. Along with loosened ties was a heightened sense of frivolity, brightened, no doubt, by its being the end of the workweek; presumably tomorrow they could sleep it off.

  The women seemed tastefully dressed, not much skin showing, which had not been the case at the last place Carol had insisted entering. That had been a strip club, so darkened with smoke and dim lights one could hardly see more than rotating shadows with a flash of what could possibly be a censored body part.

  As she had also done at some of the others, Carol promptly ordered drinks for the whole crowd, flashing a credit card like a weapon.

  “In honor of my cousin,” she crooned to the whole crowd, whose applause was greedy and spontaneous.

  After offering free drinks with the easy largesse of a queen, Carol melted onto the dance floor, the red sequins undulating with each rip
ple of her athletic body. “Whoah, what a babe!” someone yelled, and Carol was soon surrounded by partners. It seemed to Gordon, sitting at a table on the periphery with an exhausted Elizabeth, she was dancing with all of them, from one set of arms into another.

  “I’m getting old,” Elizabeth murmured, sipping the dry white wine she’d ordered, stifling a yawn. She suddenly wished Michael were sitting next to her. She wouldn’t mind dancing a little, but only with him. He would never let her fall, she thought, and sat up as she wondered where on earth that had come from.

  She grabbed Gordon’s hand. “Dance!” She was pulling him up out of his seat. They tried to move with the beat of the music, and almost succeeded until Carol draped herself in between them, pulling a tall man with blond hair, cut to emphasize high cheekbones and a high opinion.

  “Hey, guys, meet my new friend; his name is—uh, whatdyasayitwas?” Carol slurred the sentence into one word.

  “Eric.” He smiled down at her, an intimate arm hooking her toward him.

  “Well, Eeeeric,” she crooned, caressing his face and then mussing up his hair, ignoring the sudden frown, “let’s sit down and have a drink, something cold and icy because I’m all hot and bothered.”

  “You sure are,” Eric agreed, eyes bright with admiration. He held her hand as they all followed her back to the table and sat down, motioning to the hovering waiter. “F-fresh drinks, aaaall-arrround.” Then she hiccuped, slapping a hand over her mouth, giggling. “’Scuseme.”

  Now truly exhausted, Elizabeth felt the tap of a headache starting to drum with insistence between her eyes. She also knew she didn’t want anything more to drink. When the waiter came back, she declined and insisted on only “Coffee, plain.”

  “Irish?”

  “No. Black and straight up.” Elizabeth was concerned about this new man Carol had just picked up, wondering just what her cousin had in mind. The possibilities made her uneasy, and she wondered what to do.

  Carol was smiling and touching Eric Stanley, who looked like he was equally as enamored. Elizabeth didn’t think Carol would notice or care if she and Gordon left. Probably would prefer it—and that only made her more concerned.

  Carol slammed both her hands on the table, jostling the new drinks that had just been placed in front of them. Elizabeth’s coffee sloshed onto the table. “Know what? I kn-know what! I-I know what we can do next,” she exclaimed, her smile encompassing the world at that table, before fastening her eyes on her new friend. “We all cannn go back to my-my h-house and play games!”

  “I’d love to play games with you,” Eric assured her, taking up her hand and kissing it on top and then turning it over and giving it another lingering moist one.

  Carol shrieked, snatching her hand away. “’at tickles.”

  Elizabeth stood up suddenly and grabbled Carol’s other hand. “Come on, I need to freshen up.”

  “Oh.” Carol giggled. “I think I need to, too,” she said and hiccuped. “You boyss wait for us, hearrr? Don’t go.” The men stood automatically as the women left, Elizabeth holding on to Carol with a hard grasp, trying not to stumble with her.

  “So, Gordon, what do you do?” Eric asked, eyes darting around the restaurant, a hand drumming as he lounged back in the wooden chair, trying to make it more comfortable.

  “I’m a doctor.”

  Eric’s eyes flashed respect as he held up his drink and saluted. “Super. And this is your lucky day, ’cause I guarantee I can do great things with your portfolio. I’m a stockbroker and a damn good one.”

  Gordon smiled and leaned closer. “Give me your card.” He waited for the man to fumble one out of his wallet. Gordon pretended to stare at it for a serious moment and then leaned forward. “Thanks. Look, you seem like a good guy and I’ll give you a call next week, but . . . I feel I have to tell you this. I am Carol’s doctor and I won’t betray doctor-patient confidentiality, but . . .” He waited for Eric’s eyes to dart back to his and saw the face sober.

  “But?”

  Gordon sighed heavily and saw the women coming back, Carol weaving and dragging Elizabeth along with her. “But I would strongly advise against the exchange of bodily fluids.”

  With eyebrows raised, Gordon waited for Eric to absorb the message. The man wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t too drunk. He was up like a shot. “Sorry, I just saw my wife walk in. Later.” And was gone, fortunately in the opposite direction of Carol and Elizabeth, who reached the table just in time to see Eric’s departing back.

  “Where’ss he going?” Carol sputtered.

  Gordon took her hand. “He got a call from his wife.”

  “Oh.” She absorbed this slowly and then it finally registered. “Bastard! Fine, forget’im. Now, wheredoya want to go next?”

  “We have to go back to the limo first,” Gordon explained firmly, helping her stand up and making sure Elizabeth was all right.

  “Okeydokey,” Carol agreed happily, following along. They were inside the car before Gordon explained the evening was over.

  “There’s only one place we can go now,” Gordon explained, his voice reasonable but absolute.

  She yawned. “Where?”

  “Home.”

  Elizabeth leaned back against the cushions. Thank God.

  “But whyyy?” Carol wailed. They had barely made a dent in this evening, and now Gordon was saying it was over? Was that fair?

  “Because the driver has to go home,” Gordon explained. “Don’t you remember? It’s past his bedtime; it was in the contract.”

  She frowned, concentrating as she tried to remember about contracts. Contracts and home?

  She started giggling. “Ahhh, yeah, bedtime. Otherwise, he turns into a punkin, riiight?” She waited for Gordon to nod and then with a satisfied smile fell back in the seat. The motion of the car seemed to lull her into some quiet thoughts and she said no more.

  Michael let Elizabeth sleep late and was in the kitchen finishing the last bit of brewed coffee when she wandered in, still in a robe and slippers.

  She sat down at the table and looked over at the empty coffeepot. “Make me some more?”

  He got up and discovered the coffee can was empty. “Instant okay?” He didn’t wait for her to answer but put a mug of water in the microwave. “Do you have a hangover?”

  “No. I didn’t have that much to drink. I bet Carol does, though. You should have seen her; everywhere we went she bought drinks for everybody.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I’ve never seen her like that before. Oh, and guess who went with us?”

  “Gordon.” Michael set the instant coffee in front of her.

  She frowned, partly at the smell of coffee as well as his answer. “How did you know?”

  “Surely you didn’t think I’d let you go with Carol alone?”

  Her frown deepened. Not knowing what to say, she took a small sip, making a face. Bitter. She wondered if he had paid any attention to how much he’d spooned into the cup.

  “He called me before, told me he’d insisted to Carol she needed her doctor to go along with both of you in case of any medical emergency, so I knew it would be all right; he’d take care of you, too.” His smugness irritated her as much as his not leaving her any decent coffee. Did he think he lived here alone?

  “Michael, if I want to go out for a night on the town with Carol by myself, I will. I hardly need your permission or anyone else’s.”

  “Elizabeth.” He held up his hands and then grinned. “You’re a ‘drown-up.’ You can do whatever you like.” The word was pronounced to rhyme with grown-up. The sudden memory triggered laughter she couldn’t suppress.

  How many years had it been, Elizabeth wondered. Kellan had not been talking long, so it had to be well over seventeen years ago. The little girl had trouble with the hard “g” sound. One day she had gotten furious at her father for not letting her do something.

  “Well,” the child had huffed, angrily crossing her arms and glaring. “Well, I can’t wait till I’m a drown-up, and then I can d
o whatever I want!”

  “As long as you don’t forget that this ‘drown-up’ is going to do as she pleases,” Elizabeth said archly, and then chuckled. “Oh, I miss Kellan. I wish she hadn’t taken that Saturday class this semester! It’s been ages since we’ve seen her.”

  “So why don’t we call this afternoon and see if she has plans for lunch tomorrow?”

  “Wonderful,” she exclaimed, glancing at the wall clock; her class wouldn’t be over for another hour.

  As they chatted, Elizabeth dumped out the rest of the coffee and made herself some more, being very careful of the measurements. She munched on some cold toast as they waited out the time. They reached Kellan on the first try and made arrangements for the following day.

  Later, while Michael was running an errand for Elizabeth, she went to her writing desk. She wanted to get these thoughts down while they were still fresh.

  Michael. He had sidelined the conversation about her going out with Carol with humor, but she kept replaying the tone of his voice as he’d said, “Surely you didn’t think I’d let you go with Carol alone?”

  It had been patronizing and she couldn’t shake it off. Finally, she picked up the pen.

  I know Michael is protective of me because he loves me. I don’t have a problem with that, but he sounded . . . controlling. No, not that exactly, but definitely patronizing. I’ve been thinking and thinking, and it is slowly dawning that this is something I have done. I have let him make decisions for me because I have always trusted him, but . . .

  I’m a grown woman, the mother of his child, and I have enough common sense to make my own decisions. He knows that, so this is puzzling. Is it only because it was Carol? I know he’s never thought much of her, but still, she is my cousin, and I love her.

  He has done this other times, and I suppose since I have allowed it, the blame is really mine. This is something I must be conscious of and not let happen again.

  Yes, I’ll be on my guard.

  Snapping the book shut, she felt better. She had no idea her decision to start taking up for herself might not be understood. How could she, when it made perfect sense to her?