Dead to Her(32)
21.
“So sorry I’m a little late,” Elizabeth said. “I forgot I’d offered to go check on Emmett and Virginia’s place to sort their mail, and that took longer than expected, and then I had to go to the bank and there was such a long line. After that, I went to feed Midge for Iris, which should only have taken thirty minutes or so, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.” She wiped away an imagined hair from her forehead, her natural dark curls tight and short in the humid air. Marcie had never seen Elizabeth look so flustered. “He hasn’t eaten yesterday’s food either. I’ll go back and search properly later but I’ve told the pool boy and gardener to check anywhere outside he may have gotten stuck before they finish up.”
“He’ll be back,” Marcie said. “Cats like to wander. He’s too old to have gotten too far.”
They were at the club, in the luncheon pavilion, Marcie having had a blissful morning lying out by the pool, the sun glittering diamonds on the surface, freshly squeezed orange juice by her side, and a terrible trashy novel to half-read while Jason, her deceptive handsome husband, had been at work. Now he was here by her side, looking relaxed for once. William had joined them after a round of golf. Maybe that’s why Jason looked happier. He hadn’t had William trying to take back the reins at work.
“I’m sure you’re right, and yes, he’s old and sick, but Iris just adores that cat. If anything happens to him, she’ll be devastated. Anyway,” Elizabeth continued. “Sorry I missed you at the office. Here’s your travel details.” She handed an envelope to Jason. “Flight leaves this afternoon at four thirty and a driver will be waiting to take you to the hotel. I’ve emailed it to you as well.”
“You want to stay for some lunch?” William asked.
“Oh no, I’ve got a million things to do today. You know how it is. And Zelda has some family coming in by bus for her weekend off. I’m going to give them a ride. But thank you. Oh.” She squinted in the sunlight. “Here’s Keisha. My, she suits those tennis whites.”
The comment sat somewhere in tone between an honest compliment and a snide snub, and Marcie wasn’t sure which Elizabeth intended. Her stomach knotted and she automatically reached for her wine, thankful she had her shades to hide behind. What was it she was feeling anyway? Cringing embarrassment? Yes, but not just that. A hint of nerves too. Excitement maybe. Jesus, she needed to get a grip. It was just a woman, not Tom fucking Hardy. There was no reason to be so flustered. Keisha obviously hadn’t said anything to William, because Marcie would have heard by now. It had been nothing. A stupid drunken moment. No reason to feel so odd. Still, sweat prickled on the backs of her thighs and her position in her chair suddenly felt awkward.
Keisha, on the other hand, looked totally relaxed, pausing at the pool area gate, chatting her goodbyes to May and Charlene. God, poor Keisha, sharing her tennis lesson with them. Never had two duller YummyMummies walked the planet. They were both older than Marcie, forty at least, under the Botox and fillers, and, as she recalled, had loathed each other until bonding over IVF and their subsequent miracle babies, Joshua and Megan. Spoiled and whiny, both of them. But then so were their mothers.
“She does, doesn’t she?” William said, as Keisha strolled toward them, a big smile on her face as her hips rolled in that confident, sexy, tilted-forward walk. Marcie could see Jason watching her, taking it all in, and it still rankled, the way she became invisible when Keisha was around, as if she were nothing. Jason wasn’t the only one studying Keisha. Behind the expensive tinted glasses, all eyes in the pavilion were watching her, filled with mischief and gossip, eager to get a glimpse of the young black gold digger who’d replaced the saintly Eleanor Radford. Women leaned in closer to one another to comment with wry smiles, William no doubt the butt of the jokes. Keisha didn’t notice as she sauntered by. Marcie had always noticed when they were whispering about her. Felt each glance like a knife. Keisha was either oblivious or used to it. Maybe women always looked at her like that, as if she were a threat who had to be dealt with. At least Marcie had had the good grace to be meek when she’d slid in among them.
“I’ve passed your number to Keisha, by the way,” William said. “Thought you could help her with some ideas for the party, seeing as you two are getting along.”
“No problem.” Marcie’s heart was pounding as Keisha finally reached them, leaning forward to kiss William—a nice display for the crowds—and she tingled as she remembered the feel of those soft, painted lips on hers.
“So,” Keisha said, as she sat down, one hand holding William’s. “They’re abandoning us for the weekend, Marcie. What will we do while they’re gone?”
“Whatever you do, not so much tequila,” Jason cut in, answering for Marcie, which was a good thing because her throat had inexplicably tightened a little, and the joke let her laugh it out without looking like a giggling idiot. “God no,” she finally said. “I think I actually died for a while yesterday.”
“We should do something though,” Keisha said. “While the cat’s away and everything . . .”
“We’re going to be having a sedate weekend of golf and early nights,” William said. “So perhaps you two should have dinner here. I can make you a reservation. Save your energy for when I’m back, honey.”