She watched as he scurried to take his wife by the elbow and hustle her back out onto the dance floor. Tears sprang into Kerry’s eyes. Little Marilyn had observed the exchange, although she’d not heard it. She came over.
“He’s not worth it.”
Kerry sniffed and fought back more tears. “It’s not a question of worth, Marilyn. You either love a man or you don’t.”
Marilyn put her arm around Kerry’s waist, walking her away from the dance floor.
Fair and Susan Tucker swung one another around on the floor while the voluptuous widow BoomBoom Craycroft, fabulously dressed, ensnared Blair. He didn’t seem to mind. Harry danced widi Reverend Jones. She dearly loved the rev and barely noticed the dramas around her. In fact, Harry often shut out those tempests of emotion. Sometimes that was a great idea. Sometimes it wasn’t.
After the song ended, the band took a break. The stampede for the bar left the women at the tables as the men jostled for drinks to carry back to “the girls.”
Both Blair and Fair arrived at Harry and Susan’s table. Mrs. Hogendobber sat at the next table with Herbie and Bob and Sally Taylor, friends from church. Ned was off politicking with the other lawyers.
“Coca-Cola, darling.” Fair placed a glass in front of Harry.
Before she could respond, Blair smacked down a gin and tonic. “Harry, you need a real drink.”
“She doesn’t drink.” Fair smiled, baring his fangs.
“She does now.” Blair bared his fangs in return.
“Are you trying to get Harry drunk? Pretty crude, Blair.”
“Get over it. You divorced her, buddy. I happen to think she’s a fascinating woman. Your loss is my gain.”
By now the whole party was pretending to be talking with one another, but every ear was cocked in the direction of this exchange.
“She’s not a raffle ticket. I haven’t lost her and you haven’t gained her.” Fair squared his massive shoulders.
Blair turned around to sit down. “Cut the crap.”
That fast Fair pulled Blairs chair out from under him. Blair sprawled on the ground with a thud.
Blair sprang up. “You stupid redneck.”
Fair swung and missed. Blair was quick on his feet.
Within seconds the two strong men were pounding at one another. Blair sent the vet crashing into the table, which collapsed.
“Will you two grow up!” Harry shouted. She was preparing to haul off and sock whoever came closest to her, when a hand closed around her wrist like a steel vise.
“No, you come with me.” Reverend Jones yanked her right out of there.
Susan and Mrs. Hogendobber cleared away as the punching and counterpunching increased. As each fist found its target, athunk resounded over the party. The band hurried back to the bandstand and picked up a tune. Jim Sanburne moved toward the combatants, as did Reverend Jones once he deposited Harry with her hostess.
Harry, red-faced, mumbled, “Mim, I’m so sorry.”
“Why apologize for them? You haven’t done a thing. Anyway, ever since those drunken swans ruined myTown Country party I just take it as it comes.”
Mim’s famedTown Country party was one she gave years before, filled with stars and business leaders from all over the country. She imported swans for the pool turned lily pond. She drugged the swans for the occasion, but the drugs wore off and the swans invaded the party, got into the liquor and food, becoming pugnacious. Clips of her party made the nightly news on every station in the country. The presidential candidate for whom this extravaganza was planned was shown running from a swan whose wings were outstretched as well as its neck, beak aiming for that large presidential bottom.
“The swans behaved better than these two.”
“Harry, I told you both of them are in love with you. You won’t listen to me.”
“I’m listening now.”
Mim slugged back a refreshing gin rickey. “You can’t just be friends with men. It doesn’t work that way. And don’t be mad at them because they can’t be friends the way women can. If a man comes around, he wants more than friendship. You know that.”
Harry watched as Jim Sanburne and Herbie finally separated the two men she thought of as her friends. Fair had a bloody nose and Blair’s lip was split wide open. BoomBoom Craycroft rushed to minister to Blair, who shrugged her off. “I know it. And I hate it.”
“Might as well hate men, then.”
“You know I don’t.”
“Then you have to choose between these two or tell them how you feel about them.” She paused. “How do you feel about them?”
Harry faltered. “I don’t know. I used to love Fair heart and soul, nothing held back. I still love him, but I don’t know if I can love him again in that way.”
“Maybetrust is the operative word.”
“Yeah.” She rubbed her right hand over her eyes. Why was life so complicated?
“Blair?”
“He’s a tender man. Very sensitive, and I’m drawn to him—but I’m afraid. Oh, Mim, I just don’t know if I can go through loving anyone again.”
“Whoever you love will hurt you. You’ll hurt him. If you learn to forgive, to go on—you’ll have something real.” She fingered her Hermes scarf. “I wish I could explain it better than I am. You know that Jim used to cheat on me like there was no tomorrow.”
“Uh—” Harry swallowed.
“No need to be polite. He did. The whole town knew it. But
Jim was a big, handsome, wild poor boy when I met him and I used my wealth to control him. Running through women was his revenge. I came so close to divorcing him, but, well, I couldn’t. When I discovered I had breast cancer, I guess I rediscovered Jim. We opened up and talked to one another. After decades of marriage we finally justtalked and we forgave one another and—here we are. Now, if a rich bitch like me can take a chance on life and love, I don’t see why you can’t.”
Harry sat quietly for a long time. “I take your point.”
“You decide between those two men.”
“Blair hasn’t exactly declared himself, you know.”
“I’m not worried about his feelings right now. I’m worried about yours. Make up your mind.”
21
Jangled by the previous nights events, Harry awoke early to a steady rain. As it was desperately needed, she didn’t resent the gray one bit. She threw on her ancient Smith College T-shirt, a pair of cutoffs, and sneakers, and dashed to the barn.
After she fed the horses, she hung a bridle on a tack hook in die center aisle, grabbed a bar of saddle soap, a small bucket of water, a sponge, and a cloth to begin cleaning. Rhythmic tasks helped her sort out whatever was going on in her life.
Mrs. Murphy climbed into the hayloft to visit Simon. Being nocturnal, he was sound asleep, so she jumped on a stall door and then to an old but well-cared-for tack trunk. Sitting on four cinder blocks, the wooden trunk was painted blue and gold with M.C.M., Harry’s initials, in the middle. Mary Charlotte Minor.
Once divorced, she had kept Haristeen. It was such a bother to lose your surname in the first place, and dien to take it back was too confusing for everyone. That’s what she said, but Susan Tucker declared she retained her married name because she wasn’t yet done with Fair. Everyone had an opinion on Harry’s emotional state and no one minded cramming it down her throat.
She’d had enough emotion and probing questions the night before. She wanted to be left alone. Fat chance.
Blair pulled up the drive to the barn. She had the lights on in the barn, so he knew where she was. Dodging the raindrops, he carried a wicker basket into the aisle.
“This is by way of an apology.” He flipped open the wicker lid. Delicious scones, Fortnum and Mason jams and jellies, bitesize ham biscuits, a fragrant Stilton cheese, a small jar of exquisite French mustard, and a large batch of peanut butter cookies were crowded inside. There were even water crackers and tins of pate” stuck in the corners. Before she could reply or thank him, he hurried into the tack room carrying a bag of expensive coffee.