All That Lies Within (7 page)

“No, it can’t be…” The man with the paunch and the balding pate squinted. “Hefty Becky? Is that you?” He wolf-whistled.

It was all Rebecca could do not to turn around, get in the car, and hightail it out of there. Instead, she threw back her shoulders and mustered her best inauthentic smile. She would not allow this Neanderthal to spoil her night this early. After all, there would be plenty of time for that over the course of the next few hours.

“Bobby.” She acknowledged him with a small nod. “Are you here for the reunion, or are you still retaking Mr. Reistetter’s geometry class?”

“Still a smart-ass. But damn, you look hot.”

Rebecca did her best not to squirm under the inappropriate scrutiny of the school’s number one jock and biggest bully. He was the epitome of every cliché about high school she could imagine. And he and his friends had made her life completely miserable.

“You must be like a hundred pounds lighter. And you ditched the dorky glasses.” He undressed her with his eyes. “Damn. I could tap that.”

Rebecca felt the bile rise up in her throat and a frisson of fear run down her spine. She forced herself to walk toward the entrance to the hotel. “Thank God. Now we know where all the blood is flowing, since it isn’t being used elsewhere.” She watched with amusement as Bobby tried to puzzle out her meaning. He still hadn’t gotten it by the time they reached the hotel lobby.

According to the electronic sign in the lobby, the reception was in Ballroom A on the second floor. Rebecca spotted a ladies’ room and peeled off in that direction. She braced both palms on the marble sink countertop and leaned forward. Her breathing was shallow and her cheeks were pale. “Of all the people I could run into first, it had to be the biggest asshole in the history of high school assholes. God, if this is your idea of a joke, I’m not laughing.”

Rebecca jumped at the sound of a flushing toilet and blushed a deep shade of crimson when she looked in the mirror and saw a classmate exit a stall and wash her hands.

“You must be talking about Bobby Frasier.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

The woman checked her lipstick. She met Rebecca’s eyes in the mirror. “Would it have changed your opinion of Bobby if you had?”

Rebecca laughed. “No, but I might have kept the thought bubble in my head.” She held out her hand. “I’m Rebecca. Minton.”

“Sharon Glastonbury. Our lockers were almost next to each other.”

“I remember. You were the prom queen.”
And you look like you still could win a beauty contest or two.

“And you were the class valedictorian. Smartest kid I ever knew. Oh, how I envied your brain.”

Rebecca blushed again and lowered her eyes. “Oh, how I envied your looks. You’re still beautiful, by the way.”

Sharon touched Rebecca gently on the elbow to get her attention. “Keep your head up. You’re a gorgeous woman. Remember, looks fade, intelligence is far more useful. Combine the two together in a package like you and…”

Rebecca smiled. Was this woman flirting with her, or just trying to make her feel better?

“C’mon,” Sharon said, looping her arm through Rebecca’s. “Let’s go face the masses together.”

Rebecca allowed Sharon to lead her into the ballroom. The room was packed with well-dressed women and men in suits. Rebecca recognized several faces. Although names escaped her, she well could remember how she’d been treated by some of these classmates.

Sharon increased the pressure on the inside of her elbow, and Rebecca looked at her questioningly. “I can feel the tension vibrating off you. How about if we head directly for the bar and get ourselves something to drink? You know, to take the edge off.”

“That would be fantastic.” She covered Sharon’s hand with her free hand and gave it a quick squeeze, hoping the gesture adequately conveyed her gratitude.

They ordered drinks and settled at a nearby table. Sharon stared at her appraisingly, and Rebecca willed herself not to look away. “I’m wondering what you do for a living, and I’m thinking I’ll take a couple of guesses before I let you correct me.”

“Okay.”

“Hmm. I know you don’t do manual labor—your hands are too soft and the manicure’s too perfect for that.” Sharon cocked her head to one side. “Pretty enough to be a model or an actress, but I think that would be a waste of your intellect.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think actresses aren’t smart? I would think having to inhabit so many characters and memorize all that dialogue would require quite a bit of intelligence.”

Sharon waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, but not the kind of brain power you possess. I’d be terribly disappointed if you wasted all those smarts entertaining other people.”

Rebecca had a fleeting image of Dara Thomas, Yale graduate, and thought about what Sharon said. If she weren’t an actress, what would Dara Thomas be doing?

“Well, I suppose some people would say it’s part of my job to be entertaining.”

Sharon’s eyes lit up. “Ah, so you’re willing to provide hints. Excellent.” She tapped a finger against the side of her head. “Are you self-employed, or do you work for someone else?”

“The latter.”

“Good.” Sharon nodded her approval.

“Why?”

“Someone as lovely as you shouldn’t be sitting home by herself. It would be a waste.”

Definitely flirting.
“Although large chunks of my job are spent in blessed solitude.”

Sharon squinted her eyes, re-evaluating. “I see. I know you wouldn’t be anything as mundane as a bank loan officer or a salesperson that spends a lot of time in the car.”

“God, no.”

“Do you train other people?”

Rebecca pursed her lips. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Well, damn, girl. This isn’t as simple as I thought it would be.”

“You’re the one who wanted to guess.”

“True.” Sharon waved a white cocktail napkin. “I surrender.”

“That was easy.” Rebecca laughed.

“So?”

“I’m a professor.”

Sharon slapped her hand on the table. “Teacher. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Is that a noble enough profession for you?”

“Absolutely. Is it an Ivy League school?”

“Middlebury College.”

“In Vermont?”

“That’s the one.”

“Great school. My niece went there. Second smartest kid I ever knew, after you.” Sharon’s fingers brushed Rebecca’s forearm. “What do you teach?”

“American literature.”

Sharon nodded. “I can see that.”

“So, is that a waste of my talents?”

“No. No, I think that’s perfect. Challenging and shaping the next generation to take over the world? I like it.”

“I’m so glad you approve. So, your turn.”

“Guess away.”

“Not me,” Rebecca said. “I’ll take the straightforward approach. What do you do for a living?”

“Really? Just like that? No foreplay?”

Rebecca feigned mock surprise. “Is that what you were doing?”

“As if you didn’t know. You’re too savvy not to have figured that out already.” Sharon batted her eyelashes suggestively. “Any interest?”

Rebecca shifted in her seat. Sharon was a remarkably attractive woman, and it had been so long…

“I’m sorry if I misconstrued.” Sharon started to rise, and Rebecca stopped her by grabbing her hand.

“Don’t go.” Sharon sat back down. “You didn’t.” More quietly, Rebecca said, “If I was in the market, I’d jump at the chance—”

“I should’ve known someone as hot as you would be taken.”

Rebecca shook her head. “It isn’t that. I’m single. It’s just—”

“You’ve been burned.”

“Badly,” Rebecca agreed.

“Been there, done that, myself.” Sharon looked at Rebecca earnestly. “I’m not asking you to marry me. I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year in high school. I figure now is a good time to tick one of my fantasies off my list.”

“You. Had a crush on me?” Rebecca blushed.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

Rebecca thought back to the chubby, ill-at-ease, self-conscious, socially inept girl she’d been back then. The idea that a girl that every boy in school lusted after harbored a secret interest in her… Well, it simply was inconceivable.

“Frankly, yes.”

Sharon put her hand on Rebecca’s leg under the table and Rebecca’s stomach flipped. “I’m telling you the truth. I meant what I said. Your brain was so sexy. I just wanted to sit and listen to you talk.”

Ah, so it wasn’t sexual, after all.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sharon said, removing her hand. “It wasn’t like that. I was attracted to you for your brain, but make no mistake about it, I would’ve jumped your bones in a heartbeat if I’d known what the hell I was doing.” Sharon’s laugh was self-deprecating. “I had all these feelings for girls and I had no clue what that meant.”

This was something Rebecca could understand. “Me either. I just knew I wasn’t interested in boys. But then, they weren’t interested in me, either, so that sort of made it a moot point.”

“Well, look around the room, honey. Every man in the room is drooling over you now.”

Rebecca glanced around dubiously. There were heads turned in their direction. “I suspect they’re looking at you, not me. It was true then, and it’s true now.”

“Thank you, but you’re selling yourself short.” Sharon’s eyes were alive with appreciation. “So what do you say? You want to blow this pop stand? Go someplace more private? I’ve got a room upstairs.”

Rebecca glanced around, then down at her watch, surprised. They’d been sitting there, nursing their drinks for the better part of an hour. “Don’t you think we ought to at least pretend to be engaged?”

“I thought that’s what we were about to do—become more engaged.” Sharon’s voice was smooth as honey.

“I was talking about the event, as you well know. Don’t you think we ought to at least mingle for a little bit before we take off?”

“You afraid people will talk?”

Rebecca shook her head. “Why would it bother me if people I never cared about speculate that I left the party with the most attractive woman in the place? I would think that would be the ultimate revenge.”

“Is that what you’re looking for? Revenge?” Sharon’s voice was quieter now.

“No. These cretins don’t mean anything to me. I don’t give a fig what conclusions they draw.”

“Then come with me now, Rebecca.” Sharon took Rebecca’s hand under the table. “I promise not to put any pressure on you. I swear this is a bucket list thing. Consider it an act of mercy.”

“Pfft. As if.” Rebecca thought about how much she didn’t want to know anything about these people or get caught up on their lives. She could go back to her own hotel and read. Or she could spend a lovely evening with Sharon. Really, there was no decision to make.

“Let’s go.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Little Dara held tightly to her mother’s hand. The room was packed with people, all dressed in black, many of them holding handkerchiefs and blowing their noses. As she peeked around her mother’s dress, Dara spied her Uncle Charlie, her Aunt Charlotte, her older cousin Georgia, and her mother’s best friend, Tessa. Just past them was a big, shiny black box. Her mother had called it a casket.

Everyone who came in stopped by the box, and then came to kiss her mother on the cheek and cry. Dara thought it an odd ritual. All the while, her grandfather stood ramrod straight next to the box, alternately beaming or brooding at the people standing in front of the box. As Dara never had been particularly close to him, she was happy to keep her distance.

A man Dara didn’t know bent over to whisper in her mother’s ear, pointing in the direction of another room. Her mother sniffled a little and nodded.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the man said, straightening up, “if you would please take your seats in the chapel, we’ll be getting started momentarily.”

Dara’s mother waited for the room to clear, and then gave Dara’s hand a tug. They moved in the direction of the box. Her mother let go of her hand and leaned into the box. Dara wasn’t tall enough to see inside, so she watched her grandfather warily as he leaned over and patted her mother on the back as she sobbed.

After a few minutes, her mother turned to her. “Do you want to say goodbye to Granddad?”

“Why? Is he going somewhere?”

“Dara, we talked about this.” Her mother’s voice was stern. “Granddad has gone to heaven to be with Grandmom.”

Slowly, Dara shook her head, watching her grandfather out of the corner of her eye. “He hasn’t left yet, Mother. He’s right there.” Dara pointed.

Her mother gasped and grabbed Dara by the shoulders, her fingers digging into Dara’s flesh.

“You’re hurting me.” More frightening to Dara was the look on her mother’s face. “How could you?” Her mother shook her shoulders. “Why do you want to hurt me?”

“I-I don’t want to hurt you, Mother.” Tears began to roll down Dara’s cheeks. “Granddad is right there. He’s been watching the whole time. He called Mr. Sandstein a-a something-monious son-of-bitch.”

“Augh. You are a hateful child. I wish I’d never had you.”

The slap stunned Dara and left her cheek stinging, but the words hurt more.

“What’s going on here?” Dara’s father strode into the room.

“She’s insisting that Dad is over there, perfectly fine and watching. Why must she torment me?” Dara’s mother hid her face in a handkerchief.

“I’ll take care of this.”

Dara’s father lifted her into the air. Suddenly, her head was rushing downward and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, her upper body was hovering just above the inside of the box. She was nose-to-nose with someone who looked vaguely like her grandfather, only more pinched and sunken. She slammed her mouth shut on a scream.

“That,” her father hissed, “is your grandfather. He’s dead. Here.” He used his free hand to yank Dara’s hand and place it on her grandfather’s cheek. It was freezing cold to the touch. Dara struggled to pull back, to get away.

When her father put her down, Dara bolted for the exit. She ran out the door and into the parking lot, her eyes wild and her little body shaking with fear. She found their car and pulled frantically on the door handle. The door was locked. She heard a noise and turned to see her father walking toward her, his face a mask of anger. Again, Dara yanked on the handle.