Dead to Her(62)

She glanced over at Keisha, the cause of all Marcie’s discomfort. She was surprisingly together, if demure, sitting beside William and holding his hand as he talked with Noah. Looking at her made Marcie’s heart race and her stomach knot.

Marcie had followed her to the bathroom earlier and told her she’d get her a Valium prescription, but the younger woman hadn’t wanted it. Said she was fine without even meeting Marcie’s eyes. She’d stiffened when Marcie had touched her arm, in a way that screamed heartache, and it made Marcie feel bad. It had made her want to push the crazy Englishwoman up against the wall and kiss her, but she hadn’t. Instead, she’d muttered, “Have it your way,” and gone back to her seat next to her husband, where she belonged, and told herself it was for the best. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t have her cake and eat it too. Not with someone as unstable as Keisha.

“Isn’t it, Marcie?”

“Marcie?”

Dragged from her private thoughts back into the circle, Marcie brought her attention back to Virginia, who’d said something she hadn’t been listening to. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“It’s so sad to see so many homeless coming for the Fourth lunch. I was there this morning. I only wish we could feed them all.”

“I’m pretty sure some of them have homes,” Marcie said, rolling the fine stem of her crystal wineglass between her fingers. As she spun it, her own face distorted in the reflection, creating a monster she barely recognized. “Some simply want free food. They take advantage of you.”

She needn’t have said anything—she shouldn’t have said anything—but Virginia’s holier-than-thou routine combined with her smugness was wearing Marcie down. Also, Virginia could totally feed every tramp in town if she wanted to. From Nouvelle’s, if she so chose, and that place had two fancy Michelin stars. “Bless your heart, you’re too na?ve,” she finished. It was a sugar-coated barb.

Virginia’s shoulders stiffened as she smarted. “The good lord doesn’t turn anyone away.”

Marcie sipped her coffee. “You must read a different Bible than I do, because as far as I can tell, the good lord is mighty picky about who gets to be on his team.”

“Marcie, stop it.” Jason reached across and squeezed her hand just a little too tight. “This weather,” he smiled at Virginia. “I swear it’s making her crazy.”

She gritted her teeth to stop from replying or maybe it’s my lying husband who’s making me crazy, but took some pleasure from the secret sly smile that crossed Emmett’s face at her words. Her own husband might find her behavior rude, but Virginia’s at least was finding her mildly entertaining.

“Just saying it like it is.” Marcie’s accent slipped slightly, the words drawling in the wrong places. You could take the girl out of Boise, but you couldn’t take Boise out of the girl.

“I have to ask.” Iris leaned forward, her straight thin back drawing a line across the snippy conversation as she smiled at Keisha. “What have you brought in those bags? I’m simply dying of curiosity.”

“Yes, so am I,” Noah added.

Marcie almost laughed at the desperation in the swift change of subject. Like Noah gave a shit about Keisha’s gifts. Anything to avoid harsh words at a dinner table.

“They’re for Saturday’s party,” Keisha said. “I wanted to give you each something to thank you for making me feel so welcome.” She reached down and picked up the first box. “It took me ages to choose them, but I think I’ve got them right. Here.” She passed one across to Iris. “That’s yours. Don’t open it until everyone’s got theirs though, please.”

“I think you’ll be impressed.” William beamed, proud, but Marcie saw the slight flinch in Keisha’s arm as he squeezed her hand. Keisha needed to be careful—it was always the small things that would give someone away.

“Okay, you can open them!” Keisha clapped her hands together when each person finally had a box in front of them, her eyes darting at last to Marcie.

There was nothing false about the exclamations from around the table as the lids came off, and even Marcie was left breathless. Venetian masquerade mask, beautifully designed and unique for each wearer. The men’s were relatively plain, Jason’s ebony black and cut straight across the eyes and nose, a devilish Zorro, and Emmett’s was almost Puck-esque—burnished silver with an arched impish expression across the eyebrows and an overlong gilt nose that Marcie thought suited his foppish inquisitive mannerisms perfectly. Noah’s was black and gold, understated but at the same time regal and clearly expensive. Whatever Keisha had chosen for William must have still been at home with her own, held back as a surprise, but if the other women’s masks were anything to go by they were all going to dazzle on Saturday night.

“Oh my.” Iris held hers up to her face. It was a beautiful half mask with filigree, held on a stick rather than tied, and although not brightly colored or ornate, like Noah’s, it oozed sophisticated elegance. Although Iris, always charming and polite, must have privately thought the idea of a masked ball a tad vulgar, her smile now was genuine. “It’s quite stunning, dear. You have exquisite taste.”

“She sure does,” Virginia chimed in as she examined her own—a blue-and-gold bird mask with feathers at either side and a small golden beak over the nose—and Marcie wanted to laugh as William said it suited her features. What it suited was the way Virginia was always peck-pecking at people with her superior attitudes.