Part 17 (2/2)
”I wonder if that's what Corney had in mind,” said Rachel. ”Somehow I think she was going for something more glamorous.”
Lucy glanced around the room, but once again didn't see any sign of Corney. ”There was a committee, wasn't there?”
”The activities committee is pretty square,” admitted Pam, who was an active Chamber member and served on the publicity committee.
”Old guard,” agreed Ted, c.o.c.king his head at a table of older men and their tightly permed wives. ”Insurance, insurance, real estate, and banking.”
They were laughing at his joke when the waiters took away the chunky gla.s.s compotes that had held the fruit salad and brought plates loaded with huge slabs of beef, mountains of mashed potatoes topped with craters of gravy, and haystacks of grayish French-cut green beans amandine.
Sue's eyes widened in horror as her plate was set in front of her. ”This explains a lot,” she said, pus.h.i.+ng it away and reaching for her wine.
”What do you mean?” asked Pam, who was busy cutting her meat.
”The fat epidemic!” explained Sue. ”Huge portions, tons of salt, it's no wonder Americans look the way they do if this is how they eat.”
”Oh, you're right,” said Rachel. ”You know I prefer organic food and Bob and I mostly eat grains and veggies, but once in a while,” she said, taking a bite of beef and savoring it, ”I just love a big piece of juicy red meat.”
”Amen,” said Bob.
By the time the dessert plates-cherry pie a la mode-and coffee cups were removed, Lucy was feeling guilty about slipping off her diet and was uncomfortably aware of her control-top panty hose. The DJ was playing a slow dance so she begged Bill to take a turn on the dance floor. ”I've absolutely got to move or I'll burst,” she said, grabbing his hand.
He got up reluctantly, earning sympathetic looks from the other guys, and followed Lucy onto the dance floor where a handful of couples were moving to the music, mostly swaying back and forth. Lucy had endured cotillion dance cla.s.ses when she was in seventh grade, letting repulsive pimply boys in b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rts and sports jackets that smelled of cleaning fluid put their arms around her so they could learn the waltz and fox-trot, and she found it frustrating that n.o.body, including Bill, seemed to know how to dance anymore.
Still, it was nice to slip her right hand into his and feel his other arm around her waist, and Bobby Darrin sure knew how to melt a girl's heart. She tried to keep her toes out of his way as they moved around the patch of parquet that served as a dance floor, trusting him to keep her from colliding with the other dancers.
The Faircloths, she noticed, danced beautifully together and made a lovely picture as they glided smoothly, perfectly in step with each other. Frankie and her partner, fellow real estate agent Bud Olsen, were having a good time, laughing as they struggled to keep time to the music and each other. When the inevitable happened, and they crashed into Lucy and Bill, there were giggles and apologies all round. Frankie just had time to tell Lucy the Faircloths had finally made an offer on a Sh.o.r.e Road house before Bud swept her away in a dramatic twirl.
”Did you hear?” she asked Bill. ”Frankie sold a house to the Faircloths.”
Bill was interested; real estate had been at a virtual standstill for months. ”Where?” he asked.
”I think she said Sh.o.r.e Road.'
”The only place for sale out there is the old McIntyre mansion,” said Bill. ”It's listed for a million and a quarter.”
”I wonder what they offered,” said Lucy.
”Check with Frankie,” urged Bill, as the song ended. ”Maybe they'll be looking for a contractor.”
Lucy noticed that Frankie was making her way across the room in the direction of the ladies' room, so she followed and eventually joined her in front of the mirrored counter, and began to refresh her lipstick.
”So the Faircloths finally found a house they liked,” said Lucy.
”Finally is the word,” said Frankie, with a huge sigh. ”I must have showed them fifty or more houses. I swear we covered the coast from Kittery to Camden several times over. Then they decided to make an offer on the very first place I showed them.”
”The McIntyre mansion?”
Frankie nodded, leaning forward and running her finger along her eyebrow. ”It needs work, but they said they're excited about remodeling.”
”How much did they offer?” asked Lucy.
”Just under a million,” said Frankie, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up her lips. ”It's a low offer, but the place definitely needs updating. The wiring and plumbing are last century, the kitchen is a nightmare. I don't know if the McIntyre kids-well, they're all in their forties, not really kids-it's a question of how much they want the cash. If they don't need the money, they could decide to wait for the market to improve.”
”It must be hard for them to let it go,” said Lucy. ”They've spent every summer there since they were kids.”
”They told me they don't get to use it much, now that their folks are gone. One is in Turkey, works for some bank; a couple of others are out on the West Coast. It's a big responsibility and they can't keep it up. It needs a roof; just keeping the lawn mowed is a big expense.”
Lucy nodded. It was a familiar story. ”Well, I hope the sale goes through. It would be a nice commission for you-and maybe a job for Bill.”
”And I could use it,” said Frankie, dropping her lipstick into her purse and clicking it shut.
Lucy was following her out the door when her cell phone rang, so she sat on the droopy, slipcovered sofa to take the call, afraid it was one of the kids. That whole awful episode with Eddie was stuck in her mind. No matter how well you thought you knew your kids, how much you trusted them, there were always surprises and experience had taught her that trouble always came when you were least expecting it. Wasn't that always the way? When she and Bill finally got a rare night out together, some emergency invariably seemed to come up. But when she glanced at the phone, she saw it was Corney who was calling.
”Hi!” she said, wondering what had kept Corney from the ball. ”Where are you? I thought you'd be dancing the night away.”
”I wish,” whispered Corney. ”I think I'm being held against my will.”
”What do you mean?”
”Trey suggested we have a little, you know, before going to the ball and I foolishly agreed. I read in a magazine that s.e.x gives you a terrific glow, much better than makeup.”
”I read that, too,” said Lucy.
”It didn't exactly work out.”
”What do you mean?”
Corney's voice got even lower. ”He suggested handcuffs, said they'd be fun.”
Lucy resisted the temptation to laugh. ”And?”
”Well, here I am, stark naked and handcuffed to my bed. Thank heavens the cell phone was on the night stand. I could just manage to reach it, kind of shoved it along with my nose until I could grab it.”
”Where's Trey?”
”That's why I'm calling. He left me here. I need you to come and free me.”
”He left?”
”Yes.”
Lucy didn't understand. ”He handcuffed you and then left? Left the house?”
”Yes! I begged him to unlock them but he just laughed and walked out.”
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