Lost Along the Way(21)
Reed smiled and sipped his scotch. Cara knew that Reed thought Cody was a fool for letting his wife weigh in on business decisions. Reed had once told her that he suspected Cody’s willingness to include Tabitha on financial matters when she knew nothing about numbers was exactly why his trust fund wasn’t what it should’ve been. Reed would be damned if he was going to make the same mistake. No one would ever be in charge of his finances except him.
“Cara doesn’t care much about the finances,” Reed answered for her. “She lets me handle the money and she handles the household. That’s how it is in our marriage.”
“Ours too. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have an opinion!” Tabitha added. “I called you yesterday, Cara. I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“I’m sorry! I’ve been so busy. I’m dealing with my mother’s estate, and I haven’t had much spare time.” The truth was, Cara wouldn’t have called Tabitha back no matter what was going on in her personal life, because all Tabitha ever wanted to do was gossip about the women around town. She considered knowing exactly what was going on with people to be some kind of neighborly responsibility.
“It’s no problem at all! Listen, you know how I don’t like to spread gossip, but I drove by your house on my way home from the gym today and I could’ve sworn that I saw you outside on the front lawn talking to . . .” Tabitha glanced furtively around the room to make sure no one was listening, and then motioned for her and Reed to lean in closer. Cody could barely lean over at all because he had a potbelly so large it made bending at the waist nearly impossible. “Jane Logan,” she whispered.
Cara’s smile froze on her face. It had never occurred to her that in the few minutes she and Jane were outside, someone might have seen them. Reed tried very hard to seem unfazed, but she could tell that his insides were roiling at the mention of Jane’s name. “That’s ridiculous,” Reed said, forcing a tight smile and shooting Cara a look that meant she was supposed to play along. “Cara doesn’t know Jane Logan. That woman is holed up in Manhattan somewhere until the feds can figure out how to exile her from the island. I assure you that whoever you saw Cara speaking to, it wasn’t Jane Logan.”
“It was just someone asking for directions. I didn’t get her name, but I don’t think it was the woman from the papers, no. Sorry to disappoint you, but my life’s not that interesting!” Cara joked, praying that her act was convincing. Reed was obsessed with what the men at his stupid club thought of him. If Cody caught on that he had the wife of a felon hanging out at his house, Cara would never hear the end of it.
“I didn’t think so!” Cody added. “I told Tabitha she was being crazy. Her brain is so saturated with images of that woman from reading every tabloid in the supermarket that she now thinks she’s seeing her in real life.”
“I guess you’re right,” Tabitha said. “She really did look like her, though. It was uncanny!”
“Tabitha, I promise you that my wife is not cavorting around town with criminals,” Reed said firmly.
“Anyway, what else is new with you guys?” Cara asked, well aware that Reed was all but glaring at her from across the table.
“Not too much,” Tabitha said. “What time do you want us to pick you up next Friday? I think a party is just what you need to lift your spirits, Cara.”
“Friday?” Cara had no idea what Tabitha was talking about, but that wasn’t surprising. Reed kept the social calendar. He told her where she needed to be and at what time and she’d show up. “I’m sorry, what’s next Friday?”
“Neal Booker’s fiftieth birthday party! You’re coming, aren’t you?”
Cara stayed quiet as she watched Reed purse his lips in a tight smile. Neal Booker was the club president, and one of the most influential board members of the golf club Reed was hoping to join down in Palm Beach. His birthday party was likely to be the event of the season, if not the year. Missing it would be akin to social suicide. The only thing worse would be for Reed to show up alone.
Cara thought back to a cocktail party she’d attended a few years ago, where she’d had the misfortune of having to listen to Neal Booker share his views on the current attitude of young men at Yale, where his son was a sophomore.
“We drove up to New Haven last weekend to take Tuck and his friends out to dinner,” he’d said as he’d sipped his Tom Collins. “Not a single one of them is dating anyone seriously, and none of them seem to care. None of these kids are concerned with their futures or understand that the good women are going to be snatched up quickly. They only care about the next piece of ass that walks in front of them. I don’t get it.” Cara distinctly remembered wondering how she was going to make it through the entire party listening to guys like this spew such nonsense all night long.
“I don’t have kids, so I can’t really say,” Reed answered. “But they’re still young. They have plenty of time.”
“That’s the problem. They don’t have plenty of time. Because other, smarter young men will realize that they need to get the quality women before they’re taken. He’s at Yale, for God’s sake. The girls there are smart, well-bred, and beautiful. Why would you waste the opportunity to nail one down? Do they think they’ll have better luck with some twenty-six-year-old who’s probably contracted a venereal disease at community college who they’ll meet in a bar somewhere?” Neal’s features were rigid, the grooves in his forehead deep enough to swipe credit cards. Cara found him to be a serious man who worried an awful lot about things that didn’t matter. Still, to Cara’s horror, Reed wanted to befriend him. Neal’s connections were wide and vast, and Cara knew that Reed hoped to benefit from them.