Betsy walked them to the door, then came back to top off Arden’s wine and set the plate of truffles in front of her. “Want me to help you put the furniture back?”
“Carlotta and I will take care of it in the morning,” Betsy said. She looked around the room. “It’s rather bohemian. I might keep it this way.” Arden contemplated a second truffle, settled for topping off her glass of wine, then dragged Betsy’s cashmere throw from the back of the sofa. Betsy pulled the trailing end over her feet and snuggled them companionably against Arden’s calf.
“He was hot.”
No need to name the subject of that sentence. Except hot didn’t quite cover Seth Last-name-unknown. He was compelling, and Arden was suddenly of the opinion that hot was what you settled for when compelling wasn’t available.
“He was,” Arden said, assuming Betsy would stop there. They had a deal: they were ruthlessly honest with each other about everything except the fact that Arden never got over Nick leaving her for Betsy. In exchange for Arden being the smiling, attentive, picture-perfect maid of honor at the wedding of her best friend to her former lover, Betsy stayed out of Arden’s love life.
“He was interested in you.”
Arden flicked Betsy a look. “Everyone’s interested in me at the moment.”
“He didn’t do the double take,” Betsy said. “Either he doesn’t know, or he doesn’t care.”
“The last thing I need right now is a date.”
“So don’t date him.”
“Let me rephrase that. The last thing I need right now is a man.”
Betsy shrugged. “Your family name is being dragged through the mud by every news outlet on the planet. People are sending you hate mail, picketing outside your offices, and you’re vibrating like a hummingbird on crack. Maybe you don’t need a date, but you could sure as hell put that man to good use.”
“The drawing class was supposed to help with the hummingbird thing.”
“So try two things at once.”
“How will I know which one worked?” Arden said lightly. Betsy knew all about randomized double-blind controlled studies because she was trained as an epidemiologist. After she married Nick she put that training to use on boards and charities focused on public health. Arden used to donate significant sums of both her personal money and the MacCarren Foundation’s annual budget to programs Betsy vetted.
“If you get drawing and him, who cares which one works?”
Arden threw Betsy a glance her oldest friend had no trouble interpreting. Enough. Move on.
“What comes next?”
“Neil’s cleared his schedule to handle this full-time. I have an appointment with the FBI in a couple of days.”
“Again? I thought they interviewed you.”
“They have done. Twice. I suspect I’ll be at their beck and call for a very long time,” Arden said. “This time they want to go over the family assets.”
“That sounds ominous,” Betsy said.
“It is. Neil’s been rather vague on the subject, which is even more ominous.”
Betsy reached out and clasped Arden’s hand. “Want to stay the night? Carlotta will make you crepes.”
Derek was waiting downstairs, but he could just as easily drive the SUV back to the garage and head home whether she was in the back or not. A week ago she had work, a schedule filled with both professional and personal obligations, but right now she had only one goal: to salvage what she could from the wreckage of her family. She found herself remembering the ease with which Seth undressed, his confidence in his own skin. He’d forged that confidence in the Marine Corps, while she couldn’t even handle Manhattan traffic.
Daydreaming about a tattooed former Marine wasn’t in her plan at the moment, let alone actually dating or sleeping with him. “Why not?” she said, and put Seth out of her mind.
After doing time at Fortune 500 companies on both coasts, Anne Calhoun landed in a flyover state, where she traded business casual for yoga pants and decided to write down all the lively story ideas that got her through years of monotonous corporate meetings. She holds a BA in History and English, and an MA in American Studies from Columbia University. Anne is the author of many novels, including The List, Jaded, Unforgiven, and Uncommon Pleasure. When she’s not writing, her hobbies include reading, knitting, and yoga. She lives in the Midwest with her family and single-handedly supports her local Starbucks.