"I guess that's okay," Alex said. "Someone like Guy Lewis is rich enough to pay his money and take his choice. And he did pay. Through the nose. From what I heard, the divorce lawyers made out like bandits."
And would again, I thought, remembering Guy's comments at the meeting. Still, given the choice between a woman built like an eighteen-wheeler and someone like Daphne, most men would choose the latter. If they had the chance.
"You don't like Guy Lewis very much, do you?" I said.
Alex shrugged. "I don't have to like him," she replied, "but I have to get along with him, and with Daphne, too."
A new group of people came into the room. One of them, a well-dressed woman about Alex's age, breezed through, nodding and greeting people along the way. "Hi, Monica," someone said.
Like an interceptor missile breaking away from its host plane, Alexis Downey rose from where she sat and glided toward the newcomer with her hand outstretched and an amazingly cordial smile pasted on her lips. "Why, Monica Davenport," Alex gushed. "I was hoping I'd get a chance to see you while I'm here."
Monica smiled back, but I doubt she was thrilled. Outwardly, Monica and Alex looked like long-lost chums, but I noted a razor-sharp undercurrent in their exchange of barbed pleasantries. Observing them at work was enough to convince me I'd never cut it in the theater-development game. I'm not that tough.
The next time the door opened, Romeo and Juliet strolled inside. Without makeup and out of costume, they were laughing and joking about something that had gone awry during the performance. I kept hoping Daddy Capulet would show up so he and I could exchange pointers on child-rearing practices. But while old man Capulet failed to put in an appearance, Juliet helped herself to a glass of sparkling cider and meandered over toward me, stopping in front of the seat Alex had just vacated.
Tanya Dunseth was wearing a purple loose-knit cardigan sweater over an electric-blue leotard. On her feet were a pair of bright pink Keds. At first glance, I would have thought she had come straight from a high school cheerleading session.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked.
"No, be my guest."
She smiled back, then joined me on the window seat, easing herself down and folding both legs gracefully under her, settling into one of those unnatural and highly suspect lotus positions. Just looking at her made my knees hurt.
For a moment, I was unsure what to do. Kelly had been most insistent about wanting to introduce the two of us, but that was before we had our little spat, before Kelly burst into tears. Still, though, Tanya was sitting there next to me. They were friends. My daughter cared for her daughter. It was dumb to sit side by side there and pretend ignorance.
"Miss Dunseth?" I said tentatively, unsure of her reaction.
Smiling and still wisecracking with Romeo across the roomful of people, she turned from him to me. "Yes?"
"You don't know me, but I'm J.P. Beaumont, Kelly's father."
Looking directly into her face, I could see that she was older than I'd thought. Somewhere in her mid-twenties, she had striking green eyes, high cheekbones, and a sprinkling of freckles that hadn't shown up under her stage makeup. As soon as she looked at me, her smile disappeared. An air of implacable seriousness settled over her fine features.
"I knew you stopped by today," she said. "I couldn't tell if Kelly was happy to see you or not."
So much for standing around exchanging inconsequential pleasantries. Tanya Dunseth believed in going for the gut.
"That's funny," I returned with a short laugh. "Neither could I."
She regarded me gravely. "Will you be staying for the wedding?"
"I don't know."
"Well, my daughter, Amber, is going to be both flower girl and ring bearer. It'll be a fairly non-traditional ceremony."
"I'm sure," I said.
"Did you meet Jeremy? He's really crazy about Kelly. They're both very lucky."
Almost unconsciously, I found myself glancing at Tanya's left hand, where there was no wedding ring and no visible indication of one, either. I didn't know I was being so painfully obvious until she called me on it.
"Don't bother looking for a ring," she said curtly. "I was married once, but not now. It didn't work out. That's why I know they're lucky."
More people crowded into the room, laughing and talking. The newcomers came straight from the Elizabethan still wearing their warm coats and jackets, some of them carrying blankets. As they edged toward the bar, Monica held up her hand for attention.
"I know it's crowded in here," she said, "so don't get too comfortable." In a room too packed for any semblance of comfort, her announcement was greeted with general laughter.
"We'll be here only a few minutes longer, just enough to give the cast time to change out of their costumes and put away props. I'm so glad you were all able to be here tonight, and I'm looking forward to giving you a behind-the-scenes look at your arts contributions in action."
She continued with a canned speech, reeling off numbers about goals set and achieved. While she droned on, the outside door opened again. This time only two people came in-Guy and Daphne Lewis, Guy wearing his red down jacket and Daphne in one of those lush Icelandic wool sweaters. Faced with the jam of people inside the room, they paused in the doorway.
Monica finally shut up, and the din of conversation returned to normal just as Guy caught sight of me and waved. He leaned down and whispered something in Daphne's ear, motioning with his head in Tanya's and my direction.
Daphne smiled while her eyes strayed across the room, searching the sea of faces. Just as her eyes seemed to settle on me, the smile fled her face, only to be replaced by a petulant scowl, like that of someone remembering some unpleasantness. Beside me, I heard Tanya Dunseth's sharp intake of breath.
Concerned, I glanced toward her in time to see her mouth drop open. A tremor like an electrical charge seemed to shoot through her body. She stared toward the couple in the doorway in what seemed like stricken amazement, while the cider from her glass spilled, unnoticed, into her lap.
And that was it. Nothing more. The incident happened so quickly that I didn't even question it until much later. Daphne and Guy started what turned out to be a slow progress across the room, nodding, chatting, and schmoozing as they came. Meanwhile, Tanya grabbed up her sweater, abandoned her empty glass, and melted into the crowd. At first I thought she was going for a refill, but she never returned to the window seat. I didn't see her again for the remainder of the night.
Eventually, Guy and Daphne fought their way through the crush of people. He approached with a broad grin on his face and with Daphne safely in tow. "I didn't mean to chase away your pretty friend," he apologized. "I wanted you to meet my wife. Daphne, this is the man I was telling you about, J.P. Beaumont."
Daphne's scowl had disappeared. She looked me up and down in a frankly assessing manner that exuded sex appeal. She tossed her blond mane, then extended a perfectly manicured and much bejeweled hand. "Why, Mr. Beaumont, I'm so pleased to meet you. I understand you're the one who donated that perfectly wonderful Bentley so Guy here could buy it for me."
The last thing I wanted to talk about right then was the stupid Bentley, but before I had an opportunity to hem and haw very much, Alex showed up at my elbow.
"Why, Guy, Daphne!" Alex said easily, casually insinuating herself between Daphne Lewis and me. "What a pleasant surprise to see you. I didn't know you'd be down here this weekend."
Daphne smiled. "We didn't either, did we, Guy? Monica invited us. So nice of her, don't you think? We were just talking about the Bentley Guy picked up at the Rep auction. You know all about that, of course. I certainly hope folks at Belltown Terrace aren't grieving too much over losing it."