Nora Roberts - Dance Upon the Air

"A little more discipline, Barbara, and you'd keep your figure without paying someone to make you sweat."

"Believe me, she's worth every penny. The sadist." With a contented sigh, she sat back, careful to keep her face out of the sun. "Tell me, darling, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I'm going to give a party, at the Monterey house. It's time to…"

"Yes." She leaned forward again to cover his hand with hers, squeezed. "Yes, it is time. I'm so glad to see you looking well again, Evan, to hear you making plans. You went through such a horrible time."

Tears welled, and her affection for him was such that she blinked them back thinking not of her mascara but of his sensibilities.

He detested public scenes.

"You've begun to move on in the past few months. That's healthy. Helen would have wanted that."

"You're right, of course." He eased his hand away as their drinks were served.

He didn't like being touched. Casually, of course, was one thing. In the business world, hugs and kisses were just another tool. But he detested being touched with intensity.

"I haven't entertained, not really, since it happened. Business affairs, of course, but… Helen and I planned every detail of our parties together. She handled so much of it-the invitations, the menu-all subject to my approval, of course. I was hoping I could impose on you to help me."

"Of course I will. You just tell me what you have in mind, and when. I went to a party just last week, very lavish and fun. I'll steal some ideas. It was Pamela and Donald. Pamela's often a pain in the neck, but she does know how to throw a party. Speaking of her, I feel I should tell you-and I hope it doesn't upset you. I'm afraid you'll hear it from someone else."

"What is it?"

"Pamela's been nattering, you know how she is."

Evan could barely picture the woman. "About what?"

"She and Donald took a holiday out east a couple of weeks ago. Cape Cod, primarily, though she talked him into driving about and staying at a few bed-and-breakfasts like nomads. She claims while they were out there, sightseeing in some little village or other, she saw a woman who looked just like Helen."

Evan's hand vised on his glass. "What do you mean?"

"She cornered me at her party, went on and on about it. Claimed that at first glance she thought she'd seen a ghost. In fact, she was so insistent about how this… apparition might have been poor Helen's double, she asked me if Helen had a sister. I told her no, of course. I imagine she caught a glimpse of some fine-boned blonde about Helen's age and enhanced the whole thing in her mind. The way she's going on about it, I didn't want you to hear some rumor that would cause you any pain."

"The woman's an idiot."

"Well, she's certainly imaginative," Barbara said. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, tell me how many people you're planning to invite."

"Two hundred, two-fifty," he said absently. "Just where did Pamela claim to see this ghost of hers?"

"Oh, some island off the East Coast. I'm not even sure of the name, as I was busy trying to change the subject. Something about sisters. Formal or casual?"

"What?"

"The party, honey. Formal or casual?"

"Formal," he murmured, and let his sister's voice buzz in his head like bees.

Lulu lived in a saltbox two blocks back from High Street. It stood out from its more conservative neighbors with its lipstick-red shutters and porch. On that red porch was a glider splattered and streaked with a rainbow of paint in a mad pattern that rivaled a Jackson Pollock canvas.

A purple gazing ball stood on the thin swath of lawn and shaded a gargoyle who squatted, permanently sticking out his tongue at passersby.

A winged dragon of iridescent green flew on the roof as a weather vane, along with a wildly striped wind sock. In the short driveway sat a dignified late-model sedan in practical black, and Lulu's Day-Glo orange VW, circa 1971.

Love beads, from the same era, dangled from the rearview mirror.

Following instructions, Nell parked on the street one house down, then hauled her delivery to the back door. Lulu swung it open before Nell could knock.

"I'll give you prompt." And with this, Lulu grabbed Nell's arm just above the elbow and yanked her inside. "I sent the lot of them out for a walk and don't figure they'll be back for twenty minutes. More, if I'm lucky. Syl's been a pain in my butt since she was born."

"Your sister."

"My parents insist she is, but I have my doubts." Lulu poked her head in the box the minute Nell set it down on the center island. "The idea that I share blood with that pompous, narrow-minded, pissy little twerp gives me the willies. I'm eighteen months older, so we went through the sixties at close to the same pace. Difference is, she remembers them, which says it all."

"Ah." Nell tried to imagine Lulu as a freewheeling, free-loving hippie, and found it wasn't that much of a stretch. For the family dinner, she'd donned a sweatshirt that announced she was all out of estrogen and had a gun.

Fair warning, Nell decided.

"Urn. Still, it's nice that you sometimes get together like this."

"She just comes out here, once every damn year, to lord it over me. According to the Gospel of Sylvia, a woman isn't a woman unless she has a husband and children, chairs some crappy committee, and knows how to make an emergency centerpiece out of twine, spit, and an empty tuna can."

"We're going to do a hell of a lot better than that." Nell busied herself by putting the roast in the oven, turning it to warm. "I made it au jus, so you just spoon that over, and serve it with the side dishes. The autumn salad goes first. Tell them to leave room for the pumpkin cheesecake."

"That'll totally amaze her." Lulu poured another glass of the wine she was tippling to get through the event. "I had a husband."

She said it so fiercely, so viciously that Nell turned to stare. "Oh?"

"Don't know what made me do it legal. I wasn't knocked up or anything. Stupid. I guess I did it to prove I could still rebel. He was no good, just as useless as he was handsome. It turned out his idea of marriage was having someplace to go after he'd finished boinking whatever floozie caught his fancy that particular night."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. Live and learn. I kicked his ass out in nineteen-eighty-five. The only time it bothers me is when Syl comes around gloating about her husband, who's no more than a paper pusher, and has a spare tire you could ride on to Cleveland, her kids, who are a couple of snotty teenagers in two-hundred dollar track shoes, and the joys of her life in the suburbs. I'd rather be shot dead than live in some cookie-cutter house in the 'burbs."

Since either the wine or the situation with Syl was making Lulu loquacious, Nell took advantage. "So, you didn't grow up here together?"

"Hell, no. We grew up in Baltimore. I took off when I was seventeen, went straight to Haight-Ashbury. I lived in a commune in Colorado for a while, traveled, experienced. When I came here, I wasn't yet twenty. I've been here over thirty-two years now. God."

The idea of that had her knocking back the wine and pouring more.

"Mia's grandmother gave me a job doing this and that for her, then when Mia came along, her mother hired me to mind her when she needed minding. Carly Devlin's a nice enough person, but the fact was she didn't have much interest in raising a child."

"So you did. I didn't realize." No wonder, Nell thought, she was so protective of Mia. "Whatever your sister thinks, you've got a daughter at the heart of it."

"Damn right." She gave a little nod, then set down her glass. "Do whatever you need to do here. I'll be right back." She started out, turned back. "If Syl the Pill comes back before I do, just tell her how you work at the bookstore and stopped in to ask me something about work."