“She hasn’t been very nice to Gina,” Carrie said.
“Because she’s a fool. People around here would much rather spend time with Gina than Marjorie. If she had a brain, she’d suck up to Gina.”
“Is Mac going to go?”
Lou gave a laugh. “Well, he’s a public servant. He doesn’t discriminate, so he tries to be everyone’s friend, especially in the good times. He’s going to stop by, in uniform, drink a cup of coffee and run for his life.”
“If you’re sure,” Carrie said.
“I’m sure.”
“I just need one more person,” Carrie said. “I wonder if Sylvia—”
“Ray Anne,” Lou said. “Let’s ask Ray Anne.”
Carrie scowled and lifted one eyebrow. “Ray Anne? She’s never helped me. Ever.”
“I’ll show her what to do.”
“You hate her!”
“We have a little truce going. I had a drink with her when I was banned from the house so Cee Jay could see the kids. We may not like each other but we have a very nice understanding. Sort of.”
“Right,” Carrie said with a laugh. “And how long will that last?”
“We’re good. It’ll be fine. She can wear her satin, low-cut, supershort waitress uniform with the seven-inch heels.”
“What if you squabble and snipe at each other?”
“I’ll pass that by her, tell her you’re worried about that,” Lou said.
“You talk to her?”
“We’ve had the occasional glass of wine, nothing big. So?”
Carrie narrowed her eyes. “If you start to bicker, I’m going to hurt you.”
Lou laughed.
“You’re an invited guest,” Carrie said. “I don’t feel right about this.”
Lou laughed again. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll hit the next twentieth anniversary party in a couple of years.”
Carrie gasped. “I didn’t say anything about that!”
“Did you think I didn’t know? She’s been fudging that for a long time now. Everyone knows. So what? She got caught. It’s been known to happen.”
“But you’ve only lived here four years! I’ve been here since before they moved to Thunder Point!”
“Carrie, everyone knows. See, here’s the lesson—if you have secrets to keep, at least be nice so people feel like helping you keep them. Marjorie has been a pain in the ass because she thinks she’s going to buy the world with her son’s future in pro baseball.” Then she reflected, looking up. “The kid is amazing. I bet he’s going to kill ’em with that arm.” Then she grew serious. “Marjorie should remember, it’s not her arm.”
“Well, much as I’d love to give her a large piece of my mind, I have a business to run and my only goal for this party is that it be perfect. If I were rich or even more comfortable financially, I wouldn’t have taken the job, even though she asked me before Downy and Ashley broke up. The truth is, in a town of fifteen hundred, I can’t afford to be too picky about catering contracts. I have a reputation to uphold—I won’t shortchange a customer because I don’t personally like them. If you’re not on board with that—”
“I’m on board, I’m on board,” Lou said. She reached out and put a comforting hand on Carrie’s forearm. “You’re my closest friend. Even though I pretty much want to shove Marjorie and her precious son in a hole right now, no one will ever know it!”
* * *
Carrie put out a beautiful spread and her presentation was, as always, fetching—a long buffet and refreshment table garnished with roses and baby’s breath that she drove all the way to her favorite nursery east of Bandon to buy. She served crab and salmon canapés, deviled eggs garnished with caviar, though not the most expensive brand, tapenade on small toast rounds, stuffed grape leaves, hot artichoke dip with thin sliced baguette, bite-size beef burgundy and a variety of relishes. There was also a beautiful white cake that said Happy Anniversary in silver frosting. She brought her champagne flutes for a toast and set up a wine bar at the end of the dining room. And Marjorie looked very nice in a new dress for the occasion.
Her husband, Crawford Senior, who everyone called Ford, had other ideas about the party. He ran some Christmas lights between the trees in the backyard and put out a couple of coolers of beer along with a bowl of chips and salsa on the picnic table. It seemed most of the guests, especially the men, preferred to be out there. Many of them loaded up on hors d’oeuvres and took their plates outside to mix them up with chips and beer. The women appreciated the wine bar and fancy nibbles, content to sit around the living room, gossiping. Nothing Marjorie could do would coax the men inside.
Downy brought his new girlfriend, a beautiful and tiny young thing dressed for sex with a very short skirt, high shoes, see-through blouse not covering her purple bra. Her long black hair was loose and flowing and she was stuck to Downy like lint. They pawed each other and drank too much beer, although they were underage and everyone knew it, so when the deputy showed up, Ford told them to go hide in one of the bedrooms. Not ten minutes later there was a scream. One of the women at the party went looking for her purse, opened the bedroom door and found them stark naked, in flagrante.
Carrie had a helluva time rounding everyone up for a champagne toast after that but managed to convince Ford to do this one thing for his wife. Carrie, though not exactly commissioned to do so, took as many pictures of them toasting and cutting the cake as she could grab.
Then Ford was back outside with a box of cigars.
By eleven Carrie, Lou and Ray Anne had cleaned up, put the rest of the hors d’oeuvres on disposable but attractive plastic plates, washed out the chafing dishes and serving utensils and loaded everything in Carrie’s van. Carrie told Marjorie good-night and Marjorie said, “Thank you, Carrie. I think it went very well.” And Carrie wondered if the woman was being brave or delusional.
Once in the van she said, “I need a glass of wine.”
“I could use something stronger,” Lou said. “I’m completely exhausted.”
“Not at my house, where Gina and Ashley will probably be waiting for a report. Not at your house, where Eve will be listening and will report to Ashley.” They both looked at Ray Anne.
“All right,” she said. “All right. My house.”
There was no talking in the van as Carrie drove them to Ray Anne’s little bungalow on the hill, just ten blocks from the Downys’. Like everything in Thunder Point, it was close. It was only five minutes to get there and eight minutes before Ray Anne was opening a cold white and pouring it into three glasses. They sat in the living room, kicking off their shoes. They sipped their wine and just sat quiet for a moment.
“I’ve seen it a hundred times,” Carrie finally said. “It’s the hardest part about this work—people with huge expectations are always disappointed.”
“I like Ford, but he’s an ass,” Ray Anne said.
“Well, I can’t stand Marjorie, but I think I feel sorry for her,” Lou said.
“It gets to the point that when you have an event that didn’t disappoint, you want to give a discount,” Carrie said, rubbing her foot. “The worst is when a young bride doesn’t get the reception she always dreamed of. It’s rarely about the venue or the food, but usually some relative or guest with bad manners.”
“I bet you don’t often see renegade fucking at wedding receptions,” Ray Anne said.
“That’s where you see it the most,” Carrie said.
“Really? I thought that was just me....”
“No, there’s something about a wedding that makes people amorous. And reckless. But I have to say, I’ve never seen it happen at an anniversary party. By the son of the couple. In their bedroom. In the middle of the party.”
“Coolers of beer and cigars...I bet Marjorie wanted to die. Here she was all dressed up and Ford’s wearing his Seattle Mariners cap.”
“Yeah, I bet that dress cost her forty bucks,” Ray Anne said meanly.
“Get it out of your system,” Carrie said. “Because you are not to gossip about this! To anyone!”
“I didn’t sign a confidentiality agreement,” Lou said. “Besides, everyone is going to be talking about it. Especially Pat, who got a close-up of Downy’s naked ass.” She took a sip of her wine. “And all you did was pull the door closed!”
“It was that or throw a bucket of cold water on him,” Carrie said. “I know he broke my baby’s heart, but I’m glad she’s moving on. Hopefully to someone with some manners. If not class. Jeez.”
And then the three of them looked at each other and burst into hysterical laughter until they were crying and couldn’t sit up straight.
* * *
Frank knocked on Ashley’s door at nine-thirty. Gina answered, looking surprised. “Frank!”
“Hi. Is Ashley home?”
“Um, yes. I think she’s plugged into her iPod. Or on the phone. I’ll check. Come on in.”
He stepped inside while Gina went down the hall and tapped on Ashley’s bedroom door. When she came out, wearing a perplexed frown, her iPod earbuds were dangling over her shoulders. And Gina went in a different direction, leaving them alone.
He smiled and said, “Hi.”
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your parents’ party?”
“I stayed for the toast and the cake cutting. That’s long enough. I’m sure they’ll think I’m in my room or something.”
“But what are you doing?”
“I’m going to the beach to look for stars and constellations and meteors. It’s clear and cool.” He half turned, showing her his backpack. “I have a log and a couple of drinks.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t have to keep doing this, Frank. I mean, it’s nice of you, but I am managing not to feel like total toe jelly knowing Downy’s in town with his girlfriend.”
“Well, good. So, the internet says there could be a mild meteor shower tonight. And I did this, as you say, because no one else would be interested. And the party is not for me. My mom is semihappy—my dad gave her a necklace. And now he’s getting hammered with some of his buddies on the patio. So—”
“Getting hammered? I thought it was a fancy party!”
“That is fancy for my dad. He put out two coolers full of beer.” Frank grinned.
“What if someone’s looking for you?”
“I left a note on my computer—gone to the beach to look at stars. I’ve done it before. They won’t worry.”
She sighed. “I’ll sit on the steps with you for a little while, but I don’t want to talk about Downy.”
“Good, because I don’t have anything to say about him. But turn off the porch light, in case there are meteors. I want to see them.”
She flicked off the light, turned off her iPod and pulled the door closed behind them. She sat down on the top step with Frank.
Frank shed the backpack, opened it and pulled out a couple of drinks, handing her one.
“Let’s be sure we have something straight,” she said. “We’re just friends. We’re going to stay just friends and not because of Downy or the fact that you’re a Downy or anything. It’s because I’m not dating. Got it?”
He twisted the top off his drink. “I think we already had this conversation. I get it. And I’m real sorry my brother hurt you but I’m not sorry it gave me a chance to get to know you on a different level. While you were with Downy, we only talked if you had a math crisis. I’m not looking for anything, Ash. I’m not dating, either. I have a lot I want to do.”