black that evening. Well, it wasn’t a choice, exactly—it wasn’t as though she had a whole wardrobe of designer gear to pick from. This particular dress was from Karen Millen. Her flatmate, Jools, with whom she had been shopping at the time, had told her it looked a little bit Prada. And Lizzy felt a little bit Prada when she wore it. For the first couple of times in any case, until she found herself standing next to a woman dressed in the real thing and suddenly felt extremely chain store again.
Her diamonds at least were real; though they were mere chips compared to the rocks many of the guests would be sporting that night. She pulled a comb through her hair. There was no time to wash it, and it looked a bit greasy. She did her best to disguise the fact by scraping her hair back into a ponytail and sticking a velvet Alice band over the top.
“Very Christie’s 1984,” joked Sarah Jane as she joined Lizzy at the ladies’ room mirror.
It was important to Lizzy that she look especially good that night, not just because she was on duty but also because she had something big to ask Nat. They had been romantically involved for almost six months now. Lizzy’s sister would be getting married in June, and Lizzy wanted to ask Nat to be her “plus one” at the wedding.
Lizzy was convinced that things were moving forward with her boss. Though he had said that there was no way he could officially announce that they were together without causing problems in the office, Lizzy was spending at least three nights a week at Nat’s apartment.
The sex was greatly improved. Since that first time, itjust got better and better. Lizzy had been enjoying herself so much she was almost regretful that she had waited so long to lose her virginity. But most of the time she was just thrilled that she had lost her virginity to Nat. How wonderful it would be if they did get married and Lizzy was able to avoid the misery of casual sex and its repercussions. Yes. That was what she wanted. To marry Nat Wilde and be faithful to him and him alone for the rest of her life. She was certain she wouldn’t miss out if she never kissed another man.
Sarah Jane caught her daydreaming. “Come on, dozy,” she said. “Doors open in five. Apparently there are people down there already. Anything for a free glass of champagne.”
“Coming,” said Lizzy. She adjusted her headband and followed Sarah Jane down into the gallery.
CHAPTER 9
A s Carrie walked into the lobby at Ludbrook’s, she was immediately relieved of her coat by a girl in a neat white shirt, black skirt, and black vest. A similarly uniformed waiter offered her the choice of juice, water, or champagne. She took champagne. Not because she intended to get drunk but because she wanted to know how much Ludbrook’s was spending on this do, and the quality of the champagne would be a good indicator. She took a sniff. Not bad, she decided. Later in the evening, shewould get the name of the maker on the pretense of wanting some for her own cellar.
She moved into the main room. It was already thronged with guests who all appeared to be much more interested in one another than in the lots adorning the walls. Carrie was familiar with that scenario. In one corner, in front of a couple of what Carrie correctly judged to be the smaller, cheaper paintings, a string quartet provided perfectly inoffensive and unobtrusive background music. The canapés were plentiful and of pleasingly high quality.
Carrie spotted Nat Wilde holding court, surrounded by a little gaggle of women who seemed to be finding him hilarious. It could have been a disaster, but Wilde was obviously handling the situation well, bringing husbands in whenever he could, perpetuating the myth that while he might be flirtatious, he was perfectly harmless too.
So he was busy, but Carrie knew how to draw him over. She took up a position near a portrait of a young woman in a fabulous blue dress. She opened the catalog to the page that
Her diamonds at least were real; though they were mere chips compared to the rocks many of the guests would be sporting that night. She pulled a comb through her hair. There was no time to wash it, and it looked a bit greasy. She did her best to disguise the fact by scraping her hair back into a ponytail and sticking a velvet Alice band over the top.
“Very Christie’s 1984,” joked Sarah Jane as she joined Lizzy at the ladies’ room mirror.
It was important to Lizzy that she look especially good that night, not just because she was on duty but also because she had something big to ask Nat. They had been romantically involved for almost six months now. Lizzy’s sister would be getting married in June, and Lizzy wanted to ask Nat to be her “plus one” at the wedding.
Lizzy was convinced that things were moving forward with her boss. Though he had said that there was no way he could officially announce that they were together without causing problems in the office, Lizzy was spending at least three nights a week at Nat’s apartment.
The sex was greatly improved. Since that first time, itjust got better and better. Lizzy had been enjoying herself so much she was almost regretful that she had waited so long to lose her virginity. But most of the time she was just thrilled that she had lost her virginity to Nat. How wonderful it would be if they did get married and Lizzy was able to avoid the misery of casual sex and its repercussions. Yes. That was what she wanted. To marry Nat Wilde and be faithful to him and him alone for the rest of her life. She was certain she wouldn’t miss out if she never kissed another man.
Sarah Jane caught her daydreaming. “Come on, dozy,” she said. “Doors open in five. Apparently there are people down there already. Anything for a free glass of champagne.”
“Coming,” said Lizzy. She adjusted her headband and followed Sarah Jane down into the gallery.
CHAPTER 9
A s Carrie walked into the lobby at Ludbrook’s, she was immediately relieved of her coat by a girl in a neat white shirt, black skirt, and black vest. A similarly uniformed waiter offered her the choice of juice, water, or champagne. She took champagne. Not because she intended to get drunk but because she wanted to know how much Ludbrook’s was spending on this do, and the quality of the champagne would be a good indicator. She took a sniff. Not bad, she decided. Later in the evening, shewould get the name of the maker on the pretense of wanting some for her own cellar.
She moved into the main room. It was already thronged with guests who all appeared to be much more interested in one another than in the lots adorning the walls. Carrie was familiar with that scenario. In one corner, in front of a couple of what Carrie correctly judged to be the smaller, cheaper paintings, a string quartet provided perfectly inoffensive and unobtrusive background music. The canapés were plentiful and of pleasingly high quality.
Carrie spotted Nat Wilde holding court, surrounded by a little gaggle of women who seemed to be finding him hilarious. It could have been a disaster, but Wilde was obviously handling the situation well, bringing husbands in whenever he could, perpetuating the myth that while he might be flirtatious, he was perfectly harmless too.
So he was busy, but Carrie knew how to draw him over. She took up a position near a portrait of a young woman in a fabulous blue dress. She opened the catalog to the page that
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