looked the night of the charity auction. With her blond-bombshell hairdo and a beaded, split-up-the-side white satin dress, she had easily qualified as one of the most glamorous women in a roomful of top-drawer competition.
"I guess that's okay," Alex said. "Someone like Guy Lewis is rich enough to pay his money and take his choice. And he did pay. Through the nose. From what I heard, the divorce lawyers made out like bandits."
And would again, I thought, remembering Guy's comments at the meeting. Still, given the choice between a woman built like an eighteen-wheeler and someone like Daphne, most men would choose the latter. If they had the chance.
"You don't like Guy Lewis very much, do you?" I said.
Alex shrugged. "I don't have to like him," she replied, "but I have to get along with him, and with Daphne, too."
A new group of people came into the room. One of them, a well-dressed woman about Alex's age, breezed through, nodding and greeting people along the way. "Hi, Monica," someone said.
Like an interceptor missile breaking away from its host plane, Alexis Downey rose from where she sat and glided toward the newcomer with her hand outstretched and an amazingly cordial smile pasted on her lips. "Why, Monica Davenport," Alex gushed. "I was hoping I'd get a chance to see you while I'm here."
Monica smiled back, but I doubt she was thrilled. Outwardly, Monica and Alex looked like long-lost chums, but I noted a razor-sharp undercurrent in their exchange of barbed pleasantries. Observing them at work was enough to convince me I'd never cut it in the theater-development game. I'm not that tough.
The next time the door opened, Romeo and Juliet strolled inside. Without makeup and out of costume, they were laughing and joking about something that had gone awry during the performance. I kept hoping Daddy Capulet would show up so he and I could exchange pointers on child-rearing practices. But while old man Capulet failed to put in an appearance, Juliet helped herself to a glass of sparkling cider and meandered over toward me, stopping in front of the seat Alex had just vacated.
Tanya Dunseth was wearing a purple loose-knit cardigan sweater over an electric-blue leotard. On her feet were a pair of bright pink Keds. At first glance, I would have thought she had come straight from a high school cheerleading session.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked.
"No, be my guest."
She smiled back, then joined me on the window seat, easing herself down and folding both legs gracefully under her, settling into one of those unnatural and highly suspect lotus positions. Just looking at her made my knees hurt.
For a moment, I was unsure what to do. Kelly had been most insistent about wanting to introduce the two of us, but that was before we had our little spat, before Kelly burst into tears. Still, though, Tanya was sitting there next to me. They were friends. My daughter cared for her daughter. It was dumb to sit side by side there and pretend ignorance.
"Miss Dunseth?" I said tentatively, unsure of her reaction.
Smiling and still wisecracking with Romeo across the roomful of people, she turned from him to me. "Yes?"
"You don't know me, but I'm J.P. Beaumont, Kelly's father."
Looking directly into her face, I could see that she was older than I'd thought. Somewhere in her mid-twenties, she had striking green eyes, high cheekbones, and a sprinkling of freckles that hadn't shown up under her stage makeup. As soon as she looked at me, her smile disappeared. An air of implacable seriousness settled over her fine features.
"I knew you stopped by today," she said. "I couldn't tell if Kelly was happy to see you or not."
So much for standing around exchanging inconsequential pleasantries. Tanya Dunseth believed in going for the gut.
"That's funny," I returned with a short laugh. "Neither could I."
She regarded me gravely. "Will you be staying for the wedding?"
"I don't know."
"Well, my daughter, Amber, is going to be both flower girl and
"I guess that's okay," Alex said. "Someone like Guy Lewis is rich enough to pay his money and take his choice. And he did pay. Through the nose. From what I heard, the divorce lawyers made out like bandits."
And would again, I thought, remembering Guy's comments at the meeting. Still, given the choice between a woman built like an eighteen-wheeler and someone like Daphne, most men would choose the latter. If they had the chance.
"You don't like Guy Lewis very much, do you?" I said.
Alex shrugged. "I don't have to like him," she replied, "but I have to get along with him, and with Daphne, too."
A new group of people came into the room. One of them, a well-dressed woman about Alex's age, breezed through, nodding and greeting people along the way. "Hi, Monica," someone said.
Like an interceptor missile breaking away from its host plane, Alexis Downey rose from where she sat and glided toward the newcomer with her hand outstretched and an amazingly cordial smile pasted on her lips. "Why, Monica Davenport," Alex gushed. "I was hoping I'd get a chance to see you while I'm here."
Monica smiled back, but I doubt she was thrilled. Outwardly, Monica and Alex looked like long-lost chums, but I noted a razor-sharp undercurrent in their exchange of barbed pleasantries. Observing them at work was enough to convince me I'd never cut it in the theater-development game. I'm not that tough.
The next time the door opened, Romeo and Juliet strolled inside. Without makeup and out of costume, they were laughing and joking about something that had gone awry during the performance. I kept hoping Daddy Capulet would show up so he and I could exchange pointers on child-rearing practices. But while old man Capulet failed to put in an appearance, Juliet helped herself to a glass of sparkling cider and meandered over toward me, stopping in front of the seat Alex had just vacated.
Tanya Dunseth was wearing a purple loose-knit cardigan sweater over an electric-blue leotard. On her feet were a pair of bright pink Keds. At first glance, I would have thought she had come straight from a high school cheerleading session.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked.
"No, be my guest."
She smiled back, then joined me on the window seat, easing herself down and folding both legs gracefully under her, settling into one of those unnatural and highly suspect lotus positions. Just looking at her made my knees hurt.
For a moment, I was unsure what to do. Kelly had been most insistent about wanting to introduce the two of us, but that was before we had our little spat, before Kelly burst into tears. Still, though, Tanya was sitting there next to me. They were friends. My daughter cared for her daughter. It was dumb to sit side by side there and pretend ignorance.
"Miss Dunseth?" I said tentatively, unsure of her reaction.
Smiling and still wisecracking with Romeo across the roomful of people, she turned from him to me. "Yes?"
"You don't know me, but I'm J.P. Beaumont, Kelly's father."
Looking directly into her face, I could see that she was older than I'd thought. Somewhere in her mid-twenties, she had striking green eyes, high cheekbones, and a sprinkling of freckles that hadn't shown up under her stage makeup. As soon as she looked at me, her smile disappeared. An air of implacable seriousness settled over her fine features.
"I knew you stopped by today," she said. "I couldn't tell if Kelly was happy to see you or not."
So much for standing around exchanging inconsequential pleasantries. Tanya Dunseth believed in going for the gut.
"That's funny," I returned with a short laugh. "Neither could I."
She regarded me gravely. "Will you be staying for the wedding?"
"I don't know."
"Well, my daughter, Amber, is going to be both flower girl and
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