Congratulations Laurel!
A hand-painted sign had been posted on the gate to greet party guests. Above it was a giant rainbow balloon archway.
The dull throbbing in Annie’s head intensified as she walked through. Lena was across the lawn, in a canary-yellow party dress that seemed to glow in the late-afternoon light.
She waved excitedly, speed-walked over to Annie, looped her arm through.
“You look wonderful, but you’ll still let me do some makeup, yes? The cat eye, as discussed, but first, a tour,” she said. “Most of the food will be in that tent, except for the butler-passed. Chicken nuggets and mac and cheese for the kids is over there, and on the other side will be the sushi chef, who isn’t here yet, but Hilde says he’s en route. Hilde!” Lena shouted at a woman in a dark suit, who had one finger pressed to her ear and talked into a headset. “This is Annie, mother of the guest of honor.”
Hilde nodded distractedly at Annie.
“Here is the promised adults-only area,” Lena continued, chipper and mile-a-minute. “Hilde persuaded me to do the Moroccan Fantasy theme with the rugs and throw pillows. I didn’t go for the belly dancer or the hookah, I thought that would be a little too too—but this is as far away from the speakers as possible, ha, ha, and there’ll be a little bar here, but I don’t want you to worry, the bartenders will card anyone and everyone they’re not sure of, and the DJ will be fabulous, I think, he’s got all sorts of goodies for the kids, but loud, you know. He’ll be loud.”
After the briefest of eye contact, Lena looked away.
“That caftan looks fantastic on you,” she said. “I knew it would, the blue brings out your eyes. How does Laurel look in the lavender dress? Where is Laurel?”
“I came up first,” Annie said. “To talk.”
Lena’s shoulders sagged. She gestured to the couch closest to them. “Shall we sit?” She spoke in a high pitch. “Let’s sit.”
Annie nodded. They sat down shoulder-to-shoulder.
“Laurel is not Mike’s biological child,” Annie said.
Next to her, Lena went entirely still.
“We weren’t going to ever tell her. But in science, they did a lab that tested their blood types, and she’d remembered Mike’s from the school blood drive.” Annie gave a dry laugh. “She’s known since October, apparently. We’ve been trying to talk it through for hours, Mike and I, trying to explain why we didn’t tell her, and Hank is so upset, and Laurel’s just. She’s just—”
Lena stood up, then sat back down. She pressed her lips together hard enough that they seemed to disappear and nodded several times to herself, as if coming to terms with a new reality.
“Should we cancel tonight?” she asked finally.
“Laurel insists on having the party. For her real friends, she says, and she claims to be over it, that she’s already dealt with it, which is obviously bullshit.”
For the first time since Annie had arrived, Lena looked directly at her. Her brown eyes seared. It was Annie’s turn to look away.
“Did you know my late husband Tim?” Lena said.
Annie’s palms felt hot and itchy. She flattened them against the skirt of her silk caftan, which she didn’t deserve, should have never accepted. She was a parasite.
“I worked for him,” she said. “He hired me right after college.”
“How was he,” Lena said evenly, “as a boss?”
Annie kept her eyes on the giant cottonwood tree. There was fluff trapped in its boughs, trembling in the wind, itching to snow down on the neighborhood.
“Not the best,” she said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
By design, Annie did not remember much about her affair with Tim Meeker.
They met in the interview. Annie had a little crush from the start.
First, there was that voice, so gravelly and sexy, and he wanted to make her comfortable. He didn’t seem concerned about her proficiency in PowerPoint. He cared about her taste in music and books, where she wanted to travel.
“I’ve been at your house before,” she admitted, and told him about the swim-team party. “Please tell your wife how lovely it was.”
“She and I are basically separated,” he said. “Same house, different lives.”
Tim’s habit was to go to the hotel bar next to their office after work. Annie didn’t remember when or why she started tagging along, sharing a scotch, but soon there were also steak dinners, nights at the hotel, outdoor concerts, weekends in the mountains.