Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 (29 page)

“I don’t know that I need one.”

“Of course, you need one.”

Arianna ignored her, turned to the table, and flipped through a magazine trying to find the picture that inspired her.

Muzzy glanced at the clock. “Better hurry, you won’t have time to do your own hair.”

Arianna was in a creative trance, focused on the challenge before her and didn’t answer because she didn’t hear. She grabbed her scissors and began snipping.

***

Jonathan brushed the edges of his jacket after he got out and went around opening Ava’s door. He felt like one of the pretenders he’d witnessed at the club with scuffed shoes and worn jacket elbows. It didn’t matter, he supposed.

Ava, however, looked stunning as she stepped out, even with Amy on her hip, playing with her earrings.

“If someone had told me a year ago that I would be wearing one of Ruth’s dresses to go to her end of summer gala, I’d have told them they were crazy.”

“This life has taught me to expect anything and anticipate nothing.”

As if to prove that point, Muzzy exited, not concerned with chivalrous acts or etiquette.

“Muzzy, I’m still in shock,” Ava said. “I can’t stop looking at you!”

“Arianna went all out, didn’t she?”

The hair was only the beginning of the torture session with Arianna. After that, she did her makeup and presented a dress, another of Ruth’s loaners, and forced her to put it on—very nearly physically forced her.

“I feel like an idiot,” she said, glancing at the peach-colored gown, the beadwork sparkled in the late afternoon sun. Long and off the shoulder, it showed off a waist that no one knew was there and shoved her bosom up so high she felt as if she would smack her chin if she looked down.

“Well, you look like a princess,” Jonathan said, swept up her hand and kissed it.

“You’ll be lucky if Peter can form two words tonight.”

That was a relief to Muzzy. The last thing she wanted was him going overboard with the attention. He already paid her too much.

Jean piled out followed by Eddie. They stood in awe of the stone mansion.

“You’ll be the nanny’s helper with all the children tonight?” Ava asked. Both boys nodded excitedly.

As they weaved around the mass of automobiles parked in Ruth’s yard, Muzzy wondered if he’d even like it. Peter had told her he hoped she never changed her hair. Maybe she was worrying over nothing either way.

They came around the side of the house. Ruth had a few chefs cooking with a wood fire under large cast iron slabs. There were torches burning and metal tubs with open fires, servers in airy tops and flowy skirts.

“Tahitian themed,” Jonathan said. It wasn’t what any of them would have guessed to be her first choice.

Ruth herself was dressed like a Caribbean goddess showing a shocking amount of leg and waved when she saw them.

“I’ll take the kids upstairs,” Ava said. Jonathan saw a table with fresh mango, papaya, and pineapple and made a straight line for it.

Muzzy glanced around, holding her camera close. There were about fifty people here, outside anyway, and she made for the large French doors leading inside before any of them took notice of her.

Inside was just as lavishly decorated. The ballroom was overrun with tropical bouquets, replicas of ancient artifacts and a faux rock waterfall pressed into the corner of the room. On each side extended a bar with a professional attendant behind mixing up fruity drinks.

“Wow, she really knows how to throw a party,” Muzzy whispered. The expense boggled her mind. She pulled her camera from its case and walked around a massive ice sculpture at the opposite end of the room, a strange fire god of some kind shining in the early stages of melting. She took two pictures, marveling at the detail.

When she turned, she spotted Peter leaning on the bar, talking to the bartender. He slouched on his elbow, one leg draped lazily over the other, a pink drink in his hand.

She began walking, and when he looked over, she smiled and put up a hand.

His eyes popped, his mouth fell. He moved the wrong leg trying to stand up straight, got tangled and hit the floor, the pink drink flying from his hands.

Muzzy ran to him trying desperately not to laugh.

“Are you all right?”

He nodded, staring wide-eyed as he pushed off the carpet. She picked up his empty glass and handed it to him.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No, to you? What happened?”

Muzzy rolled her eyes. “I suppose I’m a walking advertisement for Arianna. Or that’s what she said anyway. She’s been dying to get her hands on my head all year.”

He looked at her slowly from top to bottom.

“Well, don’t hold back. How ridiculous do I look?”

“You look amazing,” he said in a breath. “If I hadn’t already asked you to marry me, I would right now.”

Her lips pursed. “You didn’t ask me to marry you. You told me I was going to marry you.”

“Fine,” he said and dropped down to one knee. “Will you—”

“Get up!” she hissed and yanked on his arm. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

He stood grinning, took her hand, and locked it beneath his arm. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“I am telling every single person here that you’re my wife.”

She groaned as he began walking. Then she looked down and smiled.

***

Three days before the party, Aryl bought a 1919 Ford Model T with a center door. She ran rough, the paint was flat and worn, and it would overheat if he drove more than ten miles. But there was something wonderful about being under one’s own steam again.

He opened Claire’s side. It surprised her. She’d forgotten how he’d done that for years. She moved around the seat and considered the car’s design awkward, but she wouldn’t say anything, grateful for it with winter coming. Regardless, there was no graceful way to exit a vehicle like this.

He’d said nothing to her as they got dressed and then very little as they drove. Jac smattered the backseat with cookie crumbs and was well behaved, more enchanted with the vehicle than the idea of causing mischief.

“I wish Maura could be here,” Claire said as Aryl reached in for Jac.

“She won’t leave Tarin’s side. Swears it’s going to be any minute now.”

Claire wanted to say nothing on the subject of pregnancy, birth, or children.

“Sounds like a lively party,” she said. She waited for him to take her hand. Instead, he brushed off Jac’s clothes and then scooped him up. What should have felt like a date felt more like an obligation.

“Aryl.” He turned to look at her. “Do you even want to do this?”

“Yes,” he said quietly and began walking.

She followed behind him and hoped the night would go quickly.

***

“We’re going to be late,” Caleb called up the stairs. He heard nothing in reply, and without anything else to do, he took the twins and Felicity out to the truck to wait. He didn’t feel like dressing up, didn’t feel like going at all, but Jonathan and Aryl had pressured him. It would be the last fun thing to do this year and the nicest party they’d go to all year. Jonathan won him over talking about the food Ruth might serve.

He wore black pants and a white shirt with suspenders and his flat cap. Everyone else was probably in a suit, but he didn’t care. So what if he looked like a simpleton farmer. He didn’t rub elbows with the people who would judge him for his clothes. He was more worried about the stares and whispers over what Arianna had done.

That whole tabloid worthy spectacle.

That worry was almost enough to make him cancel despite the food.

The children babbled and poked each other beside him. He knew Arianna had been looking forward to this. He caught her smiling, gushing over the gown that she’d borrowed from Ruth and pouring over her small stack of magazines looking for the right hairstyle. So was this him trying? He grimaced as he looked out the window of the truck. He wasn’t sure. He’d never had to try before. He didn’t know what it looked like.

Jonathan told him about the club. He begged him to go and see it for himself if only to see how they all slipped into make believe. Told him about the woman with the broken tiara.

It was so
easy,
he told him, to remember.

It wasn’t safe for Arianna to remember. He knew that now. Like Aryl with his broken arm, getting a dose of opiate painkiller, Arianna’s demons rose up just as fierce amidst glitz, glamor, and alcohol.

Yet here he was, taking her to a beautiful house, an expensive party, so she could see and experience all the things she used to have.

He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Was he insane? Was he trying to drive her away?

No, he thought as he raised his head and saw the back door open. Even feeling distant, he was doing what little he could to make her happy. They all had their demons.

This was his.

He saw her walk out the door and wondered if she’d changed her mind. Her hair was done as if she was going to church. She wore a white summer dress with yellow trim and white flat shoes. If she was wearing any makeup, he couldn’t tell. It surprised him when she opened the door, pulled Samuel from the spot where she would sit and then arranged him on her lap as she closed the door.

“All ready?” she asked.

“I am. Are you?” he asked.

“Yes.” She pulled Felicity on her lap as well, leaving Savrene more room in the middle. “We might want to think about getting something bigger,” she said. 

He pulled his eyes from her and backed the truck in a wide circle. “I’ll see what I can do.”

***

With the party in full swing, Claire tried to pay attention to what the old woman was saying. Mrs. Middleton, in her early eighties and owner of Seaside Floral, went on and on about all the arrangements Ruth had ordered and how wonderful it was to have respectable wealth moving to the area. There was so much scourge running about since the crash. Leaning her head, she whispered prices discreetly and peeked up to see if Claire was impressed. Claire faked it as best she could. Then Mrs. Middleton went on to explain the contents of each arrangement, the type of flowers used, where they were grown, how they were grown and which ones were brought in from afar, special for the occasion.

Claire caught every third word, nodding here and there. Her attention was across the room where Aryl stood looking like a ghost from the past. She still wasn’t used to seeing him perfectly shaved with the short hair he wore during the rich years. He did fill out his jacket better now. He was talking to Ruth and that more than how he looked had caught her eye. It looked like casual enough conversation, nods and pleasant smiles. But from the moment they started talking, they began to creep to the side, separating themselves from everyone else.

Claire narrowed her eyes, trying desperately to read their lips. She wondered if he was confronting her on offering to loan her money in her predicament. Surely, he wouldn’t do it here, in public. She felt a wave of panic as she saw him thumb over his shoulder. Ruth nodded and followed him out of the ballroom. They were going to talk privately. Mrs. Middleton was rambling on when Claire walked away without a word. 

She moved through knots of guests, trying not to seem too anxious to get across the room. By the time she did, she’d lost them. She whirled around, looking in all directions.

Thinking they could have gone outside, she walked through the double doors against the breeze of the ocean. Shielding her eyes against a brilliant sunset, she panned the manicured lawn and beach beyond and saw nothing.

It was too warm and her heels were too high to go running all over searching for them. She decided to take a glass of champagne from a passing tray, find a shady spot to sit and hope for the best.

***

Arianna’s eyes traveled from one side of the ballroom to the other. She had no complaints. The party was expertly planned. She only wished she’d had a hand in it.

But that was her own fault, she reminded herself.

Caleb trailed behind her. She could sense he was looking for Jonathan or Aryl and knew he would excuse himself the minute he saw them. She saw the bar, contemplated, and looked away. He wandered to a table of hors d’ oeuvres. She watched him, tuning out the chatter all around her and could only hear the ocean in the distance. Quietly, she slipped off into the kitchen where more staff was busy churning out platter after platter of decadent food. She took a used one, swiped the remaining bits into the sink and, bumping past a plump older woman, plucked a hand towel, and wiped it off. No one slowed down long enough to ask what she was doing.

Back in the ballroom, she began going around the room, loading the platter, ignoring the strange looks she was getting.

Caleb had wandered off. She took the platter, managed to get through with all the food intact, glaring at a few hands reaching out, mistaking her for staff. She spotted Jonathan and Ava by a fire pit grilling pineapple on skewers.