Daughters of the Lake(67)

Kate heard herself saying, “I’m so glad you invited us to this gala. It’s quite lovely.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Addie, I know you’re no fan of these affairs.” Harrison chuckled, taking her hand. “You’re so good to come anyway.”

Kate felt herself smiling at this man.

“I brought this up from the cellar especially for you.” Harrison handed her a wine glass. “I know that the martinis we’re serving tonight aren’t to your taste, so I raided my private wine stock. It’s from France. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Kate smiled and thanked him as she brought the glass to her lips. She tasted the wine, cool and crisp on her tongue. “This is delicious, Harrison, thank you,” she said.

“Your husband is a lucky man,” Harrison said, raising his glass. “I don’t believe he realizes exactly how lucky he is to have such an extraordinary wife.”

Kate looked across the room and saw the man to whom Harrison was referring. Addie’s husband, Jess Stewart. She recognized him from the dreams. And from the photograph, and the newspaper article about the trial. He was so effortlessly handsome, so alive there in the candlelight of a glittering ballroom, wearing a tuxedo as though he had been born in it. He was holding a martini glass, standing in the center of a gaggle of beautiful women. He said something Kate could not hear, which caused the women to erupt into laughter.

“I don’t know how extraordinary I am.” Kate felt herself smiling and shaking her head. “Jess loves these affairs—look at him over there, life of the party as usual. And me here, cowering in the corner. I never quite know what to say.”

“Say? Darling Addie, you needn’t say anything at all.” Harrison smiled at her. “You’re the most captivating woman in the room without speaking one word. But I understand your feelings. Sometimes I’d rather just stand here looking out the window at the harbor instead of entertaining all of these people, as well.”

“Do we have a pair of wallflowers here yet again?” It was Celeste, sidling up to her husband. She hissed, “Harrison, mingle! And Addie, my goodness, can’t you ever join in? Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud!” And then she flounced off, toward other people’s conversations.

“She hath spoken.” Harrison smiled to Kate. “So shall it be done.” Harrison held out his arm, and Kate felt herself take it as he led her into the fray. They walked toward the group of women congregated around Addie’s husband.

“Jess, old boy, I’m so sorry to have monopolized your enchanting wife this evening,” Harrison said, a bit too casually considering the force of his gaze into Jess’s eyes. “You must have been wondering what had become of her.”

“Addie!” Jess gushed, embracing her and kissing her on the cheek. He smelled of alcohol. Was he drunk? Kate thought he was. “Darling, you must meet some old friends of mine. Sally Reade, Claire Thorson, and Helene Bonnet.” He gestured toward the striking women standing next to him. “I’ve known these girls since my early college days. They’re in town from the city this weekend.”

Before Kate had a chance to respond, one of the women spoke. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Stewart.” Sally Reade bared her teeth—Kate supposed it was a smile—and extended her hand. “I’ve been longing to meet the woman who married our Jess Stewart.”

The two other women giggled. “We all thought Sally was going to be the one who coaxed him to the altar,” one of them said. “In college they were quite close.” More laughter.

“We were never so surprised as when Jess came back to the city and announced he was engaged,” said the other. “You must be quite something, my dear, to have won his heart.”

These sort of catty women made Kate’s skin crawl. She would have loved nothing better than to put them in their places with a few well-chosen words. But she could not speak. She simply looked from one woman to another and back to her husband again, with tears stinging her eyes. Then Sally Reade smiled broadly and put her hand lightly on Jess’s forearm as she leaned in and whispered something in his ear, all the while staring into Kate’s eyes. Kate did not mistake the woman’s intent. This was a clear gesture of ownership.

“Oh, that’s all ancient history, girls,” Sally said, bringing Kate’s eyes back into focus. “Jess is an old married man now! With such a lovely wife!”

The scene began to fade before Kate’s eyes. Sally slowly vanished, as though she was evaporating. The other partygoers disappeared as the candles were extinguished and the room went dark. The wood and the floors and the doors and even the windows began to age, yellowing, cracking, gathering decades of dust in an instant.

She saw a man rushing into the turret at the end of the room, emitting an awful cry that sounded like a wounded animal on its deathbed. That scene swiftly faded into the picture of a child playing on the floor, growing up, and finally putting those childish toys away for good. Fires were lit in the fireplace and doused in rapid succession. Spider colonies came and went, mice were born, scurried about, and died, windows were opened, closed, and then shuttered permanently. All of it happened in an instant, in front of Kate’s eyes. And then, just as it had happened in this room once before, when she was a child, the air seemed to be sucked from the room. Kate couldn’t breathe.