Channing had intended to join her Friday in time for dinner and stay until Monday morning. At the last minute, however, he’d called to say that he’d be bringing the Lows. Abner was a senior partner in Channing’s law firm and one of his best friends. Meredith was Abner’s second wife, the woman responsible for the breakup of his first marriage ten years before. He was a serial womanizer, currently cheating on Meredith with the woman who’d doubtless turn out to be wife number three-if she was smart and played her cards right.
Nora and Meredith had met in a Jazzercise class early in their fifteen-year friendship, and they’d loved nothing better than dishing about the various scandals in their social set. They’d bonded initially over the revelation that the wife of a pretentious bank president had had when she returned home unannounced and caught her husband cross-dressing, decked out in an Armani suit and designer heels. On another occasion, a mutual acquaintance was accused of appropriating large sums of money from the charity for which she volunteered as treasurer. Charges were filed but the case never went to trial. An agreement was reached and the business was swept under the carpet.
At least twice a year some outrageous impropriety would come to light, and the two would busy themselves trading rumors and howling with delight. Nora and Meredith had built an entire relationship on salacious gossip. This allowed the two women to compare notes, test their mutual values, and reinforce shared attitudes, to swap any number of snobbish put-downs. Not that they considered themselves snobs.
Then Meredith met Abner and within a year the two had abandoned their respective spouses. Nora and Channing had stood for them at a simple ceremony at city hall, followed by an elegant lunch at the Bel-Air Hotel. As Channing and Abner were such good friends, the two women became even closer. Nora had been a staunch support to Meredith after she’d caught Abner in the first affair. The irony wasn’t lost on either one of them. They’d forged a bond based on the misfortunes of others, and Meredith’s suffering now occupied front and center. Nora became her sounding board, counseling her during hour-long telephone conversations and drunken lunches, wherein Nora played life coach and marriage counselor, feeling wise and superior and above it all. Together they analyzed every nuance of Abner’s infatuation with the other woman, who (to their way of thinking) was not only coarse, but had put herself in the hands of the wrong cosmetic surgeon. Problematic was the fact that Meredith loved the lifestyle Abner provided, so once she’d exhausted her emotional responses, she managed to make her peace with his infidelity. Though he never admitted to the affair, he bought her an armload of expensive jewelry and took her on a Silver Seas cruise through the Mediterranean.
With Meredith’s discovery of affair number two, the same scenes played out. A renewed cycle of tears, rage, and vows of revenge continued during the next few months. Nora found herself bored, though it took her a while to admit it to herself. She wanted to be loyal and sympathetic, but the drama soon became tedious, and she was impatient with the ineffectual anguish and spite. Meredith would never file for divorce so why make such a big deal of it? The breaking point was when Meredith made a scene at a dinner party where the other woman was in attendance. The hostess quickly put a stop to Meredith’s drunken catcalling, but not before she’d made a thorough fool of herself. This offended Nora, who thought Meredith’s conduct was unseemly and unbecoming. Regardless of the righteousness of Meredith’s position, there was the matter of etiquette. In their social circle, everybody was supposed to be too well-bred to expose any unhappiness to public view. Whatever their marital status, whether delirious or disaffected, couples were expected to maintain at least a facade of amicability. No sniping, no zingers, no hostility expressed as teasing or bantering. Nora realized that Meredith had become hooked on playing victim because she loved to occupy center stage. Nora confided this sentiment in a candid conversation with a mutual friend, a moment of openness that turned out to be a miscalculation on her part. She knew it was indiscreet to pass along information she should have kept to herself, but the other woman had brought it up and Nora couldn’t resist. Somehow Meredith had gotten wind of it, and she and Nora had had a huge falling-out. Over time they’d mended their fences, but Nora was uncomfortably aware of having failed her friend and was therefore happier keeping her at a distance.
Channing had invited them up once before without consulting Nora, and she had bitten her tongue. She’d spent two days walking on eggshells, and once Abner and Meredith were out the door, she’d made her feelings known. “Jesus, Channing, the last thing in the world I want is her unloading on me. I feel sorry for her, but I don’t want to be in the position of having to commiserate. If you can avoid inviting them again I’d be grateful.”
This had apparently annoyed him, though his tone of voice was light. “Just because you and Meredith had a parting of the ways doesn’t mean Abner and I should be penalized.”
“It’s not a question of penalizing anyone. You have to admit it’s uncomfortable, knowing what Abner’s up to. I mean, what if she asks me outright? What am I supposed to say?”
“What he does and how she feels about it is none of our business.”
“Maybe not, but the man’s a shitheel.”
“Agreed, now let’s drop the subject, please.”
From that point on, Nora had kept her observations to herself.
She had no way to guess if Meredith knew about affair number three, and this put her in the awkward position of editing her words. She didn’t like keeping secrets. Even though the friendship had cooled she was conflicted. Should she raise the issue or not? If Meredith already knew about the liaison and Nora mentioned it, the weeping and hand wringing would erupt and the weekend would be shot. By the same token, if Meredith was in the dark and Nora failed to alert her, she’d be setting herself up for recriminations: Why didn’t you tell me? How could you have let me go on when you knew what was happening?
Nora made sure the housekeeper, Mrs. Stumbo, readied the guest room, setting out fresh flowers, distilled water in a crystal carafe with matching glasses, and two sets of Egyptian cotton towels folded together and tied with color-coordinated satin ribbon. Though it was April, evenings were still chilly, and she made sure all the fireplaces were laid with wood. Meals might be a problem. She and Channing had recently lost their personal chef, and Mrs. Stumbo couldn’t be counted on to cook for the four of them. Nora checked the freezer, where she still had several dishes the chef had prepared before she left their employ “to pursue other goals.” She’d actually jumped ship in order to work for another couple in Montebello, who’d offered a thousand dollars more a month. Nora had bid the chef a fond farewell and cut the couple from their social list.
She decided she’d thaw the casserole of boeuf bourguignon and serve it that night with salad, french bread, and berries for dessert. Saturday night, she’d make reservations for the four of them for dinner at the country club. She wrote out a grocery list and sent Mrs. Stumbo off for items to cover breakfasts on Saturday and Sunday mornings and one lunch. Abner would insist on reciprocating their hospitality, taking them out for a meal on Sunday, and that would be that. The Lows would be on their way back to Bel Air by 2:00, and with luck she and Channing would have Sunday evening to themselves.
She’d hoped he’d arrive first so she could find out from him what, if anything, Meredith knew about Abner’s latest fling. She wanted to be in the proper frame of mind so she could play her part. She also wanted to chide him for springing guests on her at the last minute when he knew she’d been looking forward to time alone. She’d have to underplay any suggestion of criticism. If Channing started feeling defensive, he’d trot out that little-boy-pouting act of his. He had a knack for sounding pleasant when he was actually being chilly and withdrawn. As it turned out, the opportunity for conversation didn’t present itself because Channing and the Lows arrived at the same time. First his car then theirs pulled into the courtyard, and from that point on she had no chance to quiz him. Her irritation was quickly dispelled by cocktails and conversation. Who could hold on to a bad mood in the presence of expensive wine?