“Press, there’s nothing funny at all about someone choking to death. What’s wrong with you? You need to help her.”
Press hurried over to pat me with exaggerated care. “Are you all right?” he whispered. I shook my head, unable to decide whether or not I was going to burst out laughing. Without looking at Press, I finally regained control of myself and was relieved to see that Terrance had taken the opportunity to move away from J.C. Sitting down, I told him that I would just have eggs and toast and juice. J.C. watched me intently from across the table.
Wanting to change the subject, I asked what everyone’s plans were.
“I know my plans.” J.C. lifted her hand. “Since the decorators have run off to work on some ridiculous emergency project. I mean, who has emergency decorating projects? Well, I guess that’s not fair, because I actually have them all the time. Anyway, I was thinking I’d just laze about and read. I brought work with me—plans for a five-room pied-à-terre for a lesser Rockefeller who thinks heaven is paved with chintz—but with all this gray rain outside, I am completely unmotivated.” She took a sip of coffee. “What about you, Press? You haven’t said. Playing lord of the manor, or are you going out into the muck?”
Press laid his napkin beside his plate and took two cigarettes from his case. After tapping them, filter-end down, on the table, he gave one to J.C., who put it beside her own plate. “I’m going in to the office today. I was hoping you’d come with me. I want you to draw up something for my office and the other empty one in the building. It’s pretty damn drab. Then maybe Charlotte could meet us for lunch.”
Terrance appeared at Press’s side with a burning lighter. As he held it to the end of Press’s cigarette, I watched him carefully for some telltale sign of the transcendent pleasure I’d seen there the night before. There was only his usual passive, unreadable gaze, focused only on what he was doing at that moment. Had Press been right? Had my eyes fooled me? I’d seen Hugh, but I had seen Terrance just as clearly.
I realized that even if I had been mistaken, I didn’t trust Terrance.
“Charlotte?”
Startled, I looked at Press. He and J.C. were both staring at me. “Did you hear me? I thought you could meet us for lunch in town.”
For the second time that morning, I felt my face flush with heat. “No. I’m sorry. Lunch?”
J.C. perked up. “Oh, there’s that cute little inn in town where your mother put me for the wedding. They did a nice breakfast.”
“The inn?” Press shook his head. “The food hasn’t been very good lately. There’s a roadhouse restaurant about five miles down the highway. Phil’s, I think it is. That could be an adventure.” He looked more closely at me. “Are you all right, darling?”
Michael chose that moment to knock over his milk. “Up oh,” he said. When I looked at him, he grinned.
“No.” I quickly grabbed my napkin and pressed it onto the carpet to sop up the milk. “Michael, that was very naughty.” When the napkin was soaked, I reached for Press’s. “You know I have Michael all day, now that Nonie’s in Clareston. Michael is no fun at all in restaurants.” As though to illustrate, Michael sent up an ear-piercing squeal, then loudly declaimed for more milk. I might have asked Shelley, the orchardkeeper’s sister, in to babysit, but the last thing I wanted to do that afternoon was to go out to lunch with J.C. and Press. It was even difficult to look at her in the same robe she’d been wearing in the garden.
“What about Shelley?” Press asked. “She could watch Michael.”
“It’s short notice. She might be visiting her mother.” At least I thought she had mentioned visiting her mother. If not, it made for yet another convenient lie.
“That’s too bad.” J.C. made a little moue of disappointment. “I was hoping we could spend some time together. In fact, I’d like to have you all to myself for an hour or so, Charlotte. There’s something I want to talk with you about.”
“Sounds mysterious.” Press looked from J.C. to me and raised his eyebrows.
“You just hush. It’s girl talk.”
She was flippant, but when she looked at me I saw something in her eyes I hadn’t seen before. Sincerity. She leaned forward. “Maybe the excellent Marlene could whip us up lunch tomorrow? We can eat something yummy here and have a good talk.”
Michael banged his cup on the high-chair tray and shouted a word that vaguely resembled yummy. Then he began to laugh as though someone had just told a brilliant joke.
Chapter 22
Alone Again