Always the Last to Know(89)

They went off, hand in hand. Juliet thought she heard the words so nineties, but she couldn’t be sure.

“They’re rather nice,” Oliver said.

Her head snapped around to look at him. “Nice?”

“Aren’t they?”

Of course she couldn’t tell him. Not here, not now. Maybe not ever. “I need a drink.”

“Sure thing. What would you like? And just a word of caution, love . . .” He lowered his voice. “Try not to overdo it tonight.”

“Jesus, Oliver.”

“Just putting it out there. I’ll get it for you. Chardonnay?”

“I’ll get it myself.” She loved chardonnay. She loved cosmos, too, but they were so cliché now, so middle-aged. She even liked appletinis, goddamnit. She went out onto the deck, where one of the two bars was set up. “I’ll have a glass of rosé,” she told the bartender, hating herself. But she didn’t dare look any more outdated than she already felt.

“Sweetheart!” Her mother extricated herself from a knot of people and came over, patting her cheek. “What a triumph this is! You’ve outdone yourself, and I know I say that every year, but that’s because every year, it’s true.”

Finally, a true ally. “Hi, Mommy. Hi, Caro. Did you bring Ted?”

“Ted and I are on the rocks,” Caro said, grinning. “You can see I’m really broken up about it.”

“Oh! Um . . . well, I’m glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!”

Riley London, Genevieve’s great-granddaughter and Juliet’s favorite babysitter for the girls, ran past, chasing Sloane and a little girl with wild hair. The Finlay kid, maybe? “Hi, Ms. Frost!” Riley said over her shoulder. She was with Rav Talwar, Saanvi’s son. Juliet had hired her to keep an eye on some of the younger kids, a move appreciated by the guests who had youngsters. Brianna could’ve done it, too, but she wasn’t that kind of twelve-year-old, and besides, twelve was a little young . . . or was Juliet just making excuses for her? Should she have forced Brianna into service? What if she became one of those horrible, entitled kids, or was she already? Had Juliet failed her? Should she make Brianna volunteer at more than the town arts festival? Maybe bring her to a nursing home and—

“Everything all right, darling?” Mom asked.

“Just fine. Great! How are you? Remember, you’re a guest here. Don’t let everyone talk your ear off. I want you to relax. Did you have something to drink? The food is great, too. Go! Enjoy.”

“Mrs. Frost, could I have a second of your time?” asked a woman whose name Juliet could never remember. “It’s an issue involving some water runoff in my yard, and we left a voice mail with your office last night, but we haven’t heard from you.”

“Probably because it’s Saturday, and even the first selectman gets a day off,” Juliet said, smiling to soften the words. “My mom is officially off duty.”

“No, it’s fine. What’s going on?” Mom said, ever gracious, and Juliet wondered if anyone had any idea how much work she did.

Juliet texted Brianna—ridiculous, yes, but she had sixty people here, and didn’t have the time to go up and down four flights, looking for her eldest, who was doubtlessly hiding.

Nana and Auntie Caro could use some company and a bodyguard. Would you mind hanging out with them?

Sure, came the answer.

Good. That was nice. Maybe Brianna wasn’t beyond salvaging. Now Juliet would know where her daughter was and that Mom was with one of her favorite people.

A burst of laughter came from a group in the corner—Emma London, who was Riley the babysitter’s mom, Jamilah Finlay, whom Juliet knew from the Stoningham Women’s Association, and Beth, who worked as the manager at Harvest, where she and Oliver ate from time to time. This reminded her that they hadn’t gone on a date in ages. The women were all younger than she was—more like Arwen’s age. Evelyn from her book club was here, as well as Lucia and Emiko, all women Juliet knew and liked. The folks from Oliver’s work.

A lot of people she knew, but not a lot who were close friends. This was the toll of having a career that took her all over the world, of trying to be there for the girls at least ninety percent of the time, of having a marriage that wasn’t lying neglected in some ditch of her life.

She didn’t have friends. Not really. Not like the closeness Mom and Caro had.

Juliet suddenly felt like crying.

“Hey.” It was Sadie. “How’s it going?”

“Shitty. I hate parties.”

“You hide it very well, then. The house looks gorgeous, and everyone seems to be having a great time.”

“How are you?” Juliet asked. “Is Alexander here?”

“Ah, no. We broke up.”

Juliet blinked. “Oh! Are you . . . are you okay?”

“You were right. He’s an asshole. Feel good about yourself? Oh, hey, person with the tray, stop right there.” Sadie grabbed three shrimp wrapped in bacon and popped one in her mouth, then looked back at Juliet. “You look stressed.”

“Thanks. What do I say to that?”

“I don’t know! I’m your sister. I’m supposed to worry about you. Everything okay?”