When We Fall (12 page)

“He's adorable.” Allison's mother mouthed, even though Charlie was well out of listening range. “Too bad he's taken.”

“I'm not so sure about that. The ‘too bad' part, I mean.”

“Oh, right. I forgot they're the ones with the issues.”

“I think it's much worse than I originally thought.”

“Don't get involved,” her mother warned.

“I'm trying not to, but—”

“But nothing. I promise you it'll end up blowing up in your face if you do.”

“Excellent, thanks.”

Charlie came back into the kitchen, his brow knit into an overall vexed expression. “I've got to run.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, no. Charlotte is pissed.” He groaned. “I was supposed to meet them at Gia's dance recital and it totally slipped my mind.”

“It happens,” Allison's mom reassured him. “I can't tell you how many times Allison's father missed this or that because he was tied up at work.”

“It was a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Taylor.” Charlie kissed her and then Allison on the cheek. “And thank you for saying that. I'm not sure Charlotte will be as forgiving, but I'll take my lumps on this one.” He offered a feeble wave and left with his tail between his legs.

After the front door closed, Allison's mother turned to her. “What did I tell you? Stay out of it.”

“S
o did you give it to him good?” Sabrina smirked. “I would have.”

“I think he knew I wasn't pleased, but he was apologetic.” Charlotte uncorked a bottle of pinot grigio and pulled three white wineglasses from the uppermost kitchen cabinet, setting one each in front of Sabrina and Missy and the other at her place, standing across from them at the breakfast bar. “Although he did say something about how ‘things happen' and that I should ‘lighten up' after that.”

The problem was, “things” always “happened” when it came to Charlie. Whether it was something as innocuous as missing Gia's dance recital or something unforgivable, like the time he'd been two hours late to his daughter's second birthday party. Charlotte, to her eventual horror, had tried to spin a sordid tale about how he'd been deathly ill from food poisoning for three days and that she wasn't sure if he was going to make it at all. The last part had been true. Unfortunately, Charlie had waltzed in just as Gia was about to blow
out her candles, informing everyone he'd been stuck on the eleventh hole at Wincourt Country Club. Even worse, when some of the guests had asked him how he was feeling from the food poisoning, he'd been unwilling to corroborate Charlotte's white lie—which, as she'd pointed out later, had been to cover for him. In turn, he'd said, “Don't pretend like you did it for me.” This had sent her into a tailspin. She'd accused him of not caring about his child. Of putting extracurricular activities before his flesh and blood. He'd countered, insisting that it wasn't extracurricular. That it was for business. And that Gia would never know the difference nor would she have any memory of his absence. Their heated discussion had then bourgeoned into an out-and-out crusade, in which they'd exchanged nasty invectives across a Dora the Explorer–themed table littered with juice boxes and paper plates with smeared icing over Diego's and Boots' faces.

“Well, did he at least offer an excuse?” Sabrina tapped the rim of her wineglass to indicate she wanted it filled. Charlotte complied.

“Yeah, seriously, what was so important?” Missy chimed in.

“He was helping Allison fix some things around her house.”

“Uh-huh.” Sabrina narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at Missy when Charlotte wasn't looking.

“What?” Charlotte didn't need to see Sabrina's expression to detect the condemnation in her tone.

“Nothing.” Sabrina raised her hands in the air, palms facing outward, and turned her head to the side in mock defense. Stirring the pot came as naturally to her as putting one foot in front of the other.

“Well, it's obviously
something
. So just spit it out,” Charlotte snapped, refilling the glass of wine Missy had chugged and watching as Sabrina's eyes widened in surprise.

Rarely did anyone speak to Sabrina so directly. She was accustomed to people tiptoeing around her, “yessing” her every whim, and cowering when she gave even the slightest signal that they'd done something she didn't approve of. Which could be just about anything, depending on Sabrina's volatile mood. But, now that Allison was in the picture, Charlotte was beginning to care less and less what Sabrina thought.

“Excuse me?” Sabrina scoffed, motioning to Missy for backup. “Forgive me for trying to be a friend.”

“Seriously, Charlotte,” Missy echoed. “Sabrina's got your best interests at heart. We all do.” She nodded conclusively, nibbling the edge of a carrot stick.

Charlotte chided herself for assuming the worst. After all, until Allison had showed up, she'd had no issues with counting Sabrina and Missy as her closest friends. Hadn't she always turned a blind eye to their catty behavior in the name of self-preservation?

“Sorry, I'm just on edge lately. What were you going to say?”

“Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but Charlie has been spending a lot of time at Allison's house
fixing
things.” Sabrina's face was stern. She wasn't one to forgive and forget that easily. Quite the opposite. She was probably cataloging Charlotte's outburst in the portion of her brain reserved for those who'd wronged her. “I'm just saying. I don't want you to get hurt.”

“They're old friends. I don't think there's anything to worry about on that front.” Charlotte waved her hand
dismissively, careful to sound breezy enough that Sabrina wouldn't be roused again.

“Maybe not, but there's nothing wrong with being vigilant,” Sabrina cautioned. “I'm sure you remember what happened to poor Lucy Sloane.”

PoorLucySloane. It had become one word shortly after the entire school and town had gotten wind of her husband's affair with their son's kindergarten teacher, Miss Biggones—a regrettably suitable name, given that she'd been a buxom blonde with assets the size of watermelons.

“I'd hardly say that's what we're dealing with here.” Charlotte laughed. Although if she was being completely honest, she had been a little annoyed that Charlie had been with Allison instead of at Gia's recital. Not because it had ever crossed her mind that he'd
been
with
Allison, but rather that he could have gone back to her house any day and anytime to help her with things. Of course she didn't like it when he was late or absent at all, but typically his excuses were work related. Even the day of Gia's birthday when he'd been on the golf course, it'd been with international clients.

“If you say so,” Sabrina offered glibly. “But Allison is gorgeous and single. And I bet she plays the ‘lonely widow' card all the time.”

“For sure,” Missy agreed. “Men love a damsel in distress.”

“She's not in distress,” Charlotte avowed, turning her back to them before making a face. “And they've known each other since they were kids. Charlie was best friends with her husband, for God's sake.”

Sabrina considered this for a moment. “Exactly. There's a long history between them.”

“Allison's going to be here any minute. Can we please change the subject?”

“Whatever you say.” Sabrina's lips stiffened into a straight line. “Just don't come running to me when you find out they're banging each other in the janitor's closet.” That was where PoorLucySloane's husband and Miss Biggones had been caught in the act.

“I won't.”

•   •   •

“Boy,
am I ready to wine and whine!” Fifteen minutes later, Allison waltzed into the kitchen, blissfully unaware of the pronounced tension in the air. “You would not
believe
the day I've had.” She enveloped Charlotte in a warm embrace and handed her an aluminum-foil-covered plate. “Brownies. I got the recipe from
Cooking Light
, so you better eat them.”

“Thanks.” Charlotte beamed, inwardly chastising herself for permitting Sabrina to plant her wicked seeds of doubt. Of the two of them, Allison was definitely not the one she should be wary of.

“Hey, Sabrina. Hey, Missy.” Allison waved and they offered taut smiles in return. “Ooh, I'll have what they're having.” She pointed to their wineglasses, both of which had been refilled twice and were empty again.

“Well, don't you look darling as always,” Sabrina remarked, appraising Allison's worn blue jeans and chunky cable-knit sweater.

“I was painting all day.”

“Of course. Charlotte mentioned you dabble in art.”

“I do a little more than dabble. It's my career.”

“That was not the word I used,” Charlotte mumbled, and Sabrina shot her a dirty look.

“Can one really make money at that?” Sabrina questioned. “I mean they did coin the term
starving artist
for a reason, right?” She laughed at her own joke. Or whatever it was.

“I don't know who
they
are. But yes, I can tell you firsthand that it can be quite lucrative. Like anything, it's up and down.”

“Well, I wouldn't say
anything
. You don't hear people saying, ‘There goes that starving lawyer,' do you?” She giggled again, visibly tipsy.

“Can I help you with something?” Allison ignored Sabrina and instead turned to Charlotte, who was busying herself by wiping down her sparkling granite countertops. Whatever it took to fly under the radar of Sabrina's second shakedown of the night. Even for Sabrina, this was rare form. Charlotte was sensing more and more that there was something about her newfound friendship with Allison that really got under Sabrina's skin.

“Oh no. I'm good, thanks. Instinct,” she lied. There was nothing instinctual about cleaning up, at least not to her.

“Well, we'd love to see some of your work sometime. Isn't that right, Missy?”

“Absolutely. We'd
love
to.” Missy eyed the plate of brownies Allison had baked for Charlotte. “Can I have one of those?” she asked covetously.

“I thought you were on a diet,” Sabrina reprimanded Missy as Charlie would Gia.

“She said they were light.”

“I think each one has about a hundred calories, though don't hold me to it, because I did adapt the recipe a bit so they wouldn't taste chalky.” Allison bit into one herself.

“She bakes
and
paints. How very Renaissance woman.”

“Actually, Allison agreed to let us auction off a new piece she's working on at the school gala,” Charlotte announced. “I was going to bring it up at the meeting next week.”

“I see.” Sabrina nodded. “Not that I'm opposed, per se, but isn't that something the committee should vote on?” Sabrina and her husband, Craig—a quiet man whose sole purpose, it seemed, was to sign checks and pay credit card bills when he wasn't conciliating his wife—had been cochairs of the event for five years before handing over the reins to Charlotte and Charlie. In other words, Sabrina still thought she was in charge.

“Not really.”

“Is that so?” Sabrina was visibly taken aback by Charlotte's flippant attitude, which—to Charlotte's dismay—only fueled Sabrina's fiery temperament. “I was under the impression that we operated within a democratic system. But what do I know? I was only the chair for half a decade.”

“I can't imagine there's anyone who wouldn't want Allison's work represented at the gala.” Charlotte intentionally put Sabrina on the spot. “I thought it would be nice to display it as part of the décor that night, and then we can also have people bid on it. Definitely for the live auction, not the silent. I'm sure it'll be a big-ticket item.”

“Bigger than the use of our vacation home in Aspen for a week?”

“That's very generous of you.” Charlotte hid a smile. She
refused to give Sabrina the satisfaction, since she'd never once offered to donate their ski chalet before.

“I mean, I'll have to check with Craig.”

“Sure.” Charlotte shrugged.

“But it's not like he'd dare say no to me.”

“Who would?” Missy gobbled up the second half of her brownie and reached for another. “These are amazing.”

“Thank you. They're so easy. I'll e-mail you the recipe.”

“She doesn't cook.” Sabrina interjected.

“That's no big deal. A child could make these.”

“Oh, that's good. Miley can help you, then.” Sabrina was nothing if not quick with a clever retort.

“Is Charlie around?” Allison asked, unaware of the heavy burden inherent in her question.

“Not yet.” Charlotte checked her watch. It was only seven o'clock. He was unlikely to materialize for at least another hour.

“I wanted to thank him for the muffins.”

“Oh?” Charlotte wasn't sure what Allison was referring to, but she noticed Sabrina perk up.

“He must have dropped by this morning before we were up. He left a big box of them in front of our door. I guess Logan had them while he was here and raved about them.”

“Well, isn't that special.” Sabrina appeared quite obviously satisfied to be the recipient of such a juicy nugget of information.

“I'll let him know you appreciated the gesture.” Charlotte smiled broadly in order to quash Sabrina's smug mien and to conceal the truth, which was that it irritated her a little.

She couldn't remember the last time Charlie had picked
up breakfast, or any meal for that matter, for his own family. Of course, if she mentioned as much to him, he'd say something like,
Well, I know you'd never actually eat a muffin. And that's just about the last thing Gia needs.

“Thanks.” Allison skirted around the kitchen island. “I'll be right back. Today was so hectic I don't think I've gone to the bathroom since before lunch!” She hurried out of the room.

And before Charlotte could say anything in Charlie's defense, Sabrina whipped her head around. “Muffins, huh?”