Page 60 of Love You, Mean It

“Of course Idohope they get started on that front soon. I’d love to meet my great-grandbaby before I go. And they’d make such stunning children together, don’t you think?”

“Why rush? Especially when it’s already been such a whirlwind.” Mimi shrugged, impervious to the eye daggers Ted was whipping at her.

“Different strokes, I suppose.” She glanced around the room. “Oh, are those crab cakes they’re bringing out? You certainly spared no expense.”

“When it comes to family, I never do,” Ted said. “I hope I didn’t step on any toes.”

“Of course not,” Ma said. “Anyway, we’llallbe family soon.”

“Mmm,” Ted sneered. Mimi’s brows lowered in a way that set off an alarm in my head. Time to cut this off before real knives came out. Like mine, Mimi’s intentions were often better than her follow-through.

“It looks like guests are starting to arrive. We’ll leave you to your hosting duties,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure I introduced you all first. Ma, Mimi, why don’t we get you some food?”

“I just hope it agrees with me,” Mimi said, eyes narrowing at Ted. “Everything looks sorich.”

“Theo and I should say some hellos, but the buffet’s in the corner. Meet you there?” With that, we made our separate escapes just as a middle-aged sports coat approached Ted. Theo and I moved to the smaller bar at the front to order a pair of double bourbons.

“Hopefully they just…avoid each other,” I said under my breath.

“But they’re about to befamily,darling,” he said, dripping sarcasm.

“You know, I don’t think Ted loved when Ma dropped that word?”

“And you told me Mimi was the one to watch out for.” His eyes sparkled with repressed glee. “Remind me to send Linda a really nice bottle of wine.”

The next half hour was a whirlwind of introductions, polite expressions of interest, and (thankfully) occasional refueling from the serving staff. Before long, Theo split off with Josh and Everett, two high school friends I vaguely recognized, leaving me with the Turcottes, a couple a few years older than Ma who had been coming into the deli for decades, and whose dental practice I’d never realized occupied one of the Taylor Group’s many properties around town.

“We’re just so happy for you, Ellie,” Gail said, eyes misty as she gripped my hand in both of hers. “It’s too bad your father couldn’t be here to share this moment.”

“Oh…yeah. Thanks,” I said, smiling queasily. This party wassupposed to stay firmly on Theo’s side of the moral gray zone. But surely they wouldn’t begenuinelyupset to learn we’d called it off, whenever we got to that point…right? We weren’tclose.They’d probably just sayOh, that’s too bad. Where’s that torture pik? Lots of buildup on this one…and move on to the next topic of conversation. Still, it didn’t feel good to lie to them, especially after Gail mentioned my father. Glancing over my shoulder, I made a show of waving across the room. “That’s my cue, but thanks so much for coming.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, dear.”

I strode away with feigned purpose, but Theo was clearly in the middle of some hilarious story with his friends—the unguarded look on his face as he guffawed at something Everett said was something I hadn’t seen before. I flung around for another option, then darted to the buffet before I could be dragged into another queasy-making congratulation, or, more likely, another thinly veiled interrogation. Turned out Ted wasn’t the only one skeptical of my sudden appearance on the scene (though to be fair, most people had been gracious, even warm, including some whose only ties to Ted were through the country club we were standing in).

I was deciding whether to try to squeeze more truffled mac and cheese onto my cocktail plate—I’d clearly gone in too hard on the charcuterie platter before I’d realized what was on offer—when a voice at my shoulder startled me out of my thoughts.

“Ellie. Long time no see.”

It took me a moment to place the woman. She was pretty, in an unremarkable way—largish brown eyes set in a pleasing but slightly forgettable face, straight brown hair just past shoulder length pulled into a simple half-up, wearing a boat-necked black cocktail dress that fit her well but would have been hard to pick out of a lineup. The only unexpected element was a small red clutch fashioned to look like an antique book, complete with a scroll-heavy gilt title I couldn’t make out. Her amused look when I looked up from it finally clicked things into place.

“Jenna DiSousa?”

Jenna was on the periphery of my high school crowd: someone Bella hung out with in groups; friendly with the theater kids but never involved in the productions; briefly the girlfriend of one of the guys in my first boyfriend, Jonathan’s, postpunk band. She’d been pleasant but quiet, sipping a drink in the corner of the basement or hanging just outside the circle around the campfire, observing…or maybe just too shy to speak up.

“I was wondering if you’d recognize me.” She reached for a brioche bun heaped with lobster salad. “It’s been a minute.”

“Seriously. What are you even doing here?” She half-smiled. “Sorry, that came out weird. I mean…do you know Theo, or…?”

“I suppose you could say that.” Jenna sipped her elaborate-looking dark liquor cocktail and moved to a nearby high-top. “We had golf and tennis lessons together as kids. More family friends, though.” She tilted her head toward a middle-aged couple—the woman recognizably similar to Jenna, down to her sensible-but-upscale ensemble—chatting with a handful of people I recognized as Belle Glenners.

“Wait…yougohere?”

She laughed at my obvious incredulity. But like…seriously? The Belle Glen kids were like Theo—athletes and dance team captains, conspicuous in their shiny new cars and brand-name clothes. I’d never spent much time considering Jenna’s financial situation—even if I’d been wired to care about those things, she was just far enough outside my circle that it wouldn’t have registered—but I suppose I’d assumed that, in the perennial shakeout of Milborough’s longtime residents, she’d have sifted into my side of things: if not blue collar, exactly, then definitively middle class.

“I used to. My parents can’t understand why I won’t let them sponsor me as a junior member. Luckily, my salary makes most of the argument for me.” Her eyes snapped back to mine, a brightness in them I hadn’t noticed before. “Thanks, though. I’d kind of hate to think youdidassume I was a Belle Glen type. By the way, I love your dress.”

“Oh…thanks. I uh…I made it.”

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