Table for Seven (28 page)

“Nothing yet. But Rory just told me that Iris is going to a party on Friday night. At the sandbar. With a boy named Xander,” Will said.

“No, she’s not. She’s sleeping over at Hannah’s house on Friday.…” Fran began, then stopped. Her eyes narrowed as the pieces fell into place. “You have got to be kidding me. Is she seriously going to try to pull the whole I’m-only-pretending-to-sleep-over-at-a-friend’s-house-while-really-going-out-with-a-guy lie on us? I’m going to kill her. Then I’m going to ground her forever.”

“Can we ground her for something before she’s actually done it?” Will asked.

“Of course. Why couldn’t we?”

“I thought you had to commit a crime before you could be punished for it.”

“This isn’t the American judicial system. It’s a totalitarian dictatorship,” Fran said, putting her fists on her hips.

“Wait, who’s the head dictator? You or me?” Will asked.

“Who do you think?” She raised her voice. “Iris! Get in here!”

“What?” Iris called back.

“Right now!” Fran bellowed.

Iris appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression disgruntled.

“What?” Iris asked.

“Don’t
what
me, young lady,” Fran said.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Iris said, rolling her eyes heavenward.

Will decided this would be a good time to back up his wife.

“It means you should be more respectful when you speak to your mother,” he told his daughter. Iris sighed and tossed her hair, but remained silent.

“You said you’re sleeping over at Hannah’s on Friday night?” Fran asked.

Will, who was watching his daughter closely, thought he saw a flicker of apprehension pass over her face.

“That’s right,” Iris said.

“If I call Hannah’s mother and ask her if you’re sleeping over, she’ll know all about it?”

Now Iris definitely seemed on guard. “I don’t know. I don’t know if Hannah’s told her yet,” she said.

“Shouldn’t Hannah ask her mother for permission before inviting friends to spend the night?” Fran asked.

Iris shrugged. “Hannah’s mom is always cool about it.”

It was a misstep, Will thought. What Iris meant—without actually coming out and saying it—was that Hannah’s mother was cooler than Fran. This tactic didn’t work with Fran at the best of times, much less when she knew her thirteen-year-old daughter was trying to bamboozle her.

“Why don’t we have Hannah over here instead,” Fran said smoothly.

“No, that’s okay,” Iris said quickly, alarm flashing in her eyes.

“Why not?”

“Because …” Iris was clearly groping for a credible reason. “I already told Hannah I’d sleep over at her house. It would be weird to change the plans now.”

“No, it wouldn’t. I’ll tell you what. I’ll call Hannah’s mom now while I’m thinking about it,” Fran said, picking up her cellphone.

“Mom! No!” Iris said, but Fran waved her off. Will looked on, half-amused at his wife’s feint and half-sick that his daughter was lying to them so brazenly.

“Kim, hi, it’s Fran. Good, how are you? I was calling to see if it’s all right with you if Hannah sleeps over here on Friday. Oh, really? You’re going to Tallahassee for the weekend? I see. No, another time. Thanks, Kim. Bye.”

Fran hit the off button on her phone and looked at her daughter with raised eyebrows. “Hannah’s mom said they’re going to Tallahassee for the weekend.”

“They are?” Iris asked. She shrugged. “I guess Hannah didn’t know that.”

“That seems unlikely, considering they’re going to be there because Hannah’s choral group is giving a performance,” Fran said. She crossed her arms and looked levelly
at her older daughter. “Are you going to tell the truth now, or are we going to keep this game going?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Iris said. She was still trying to pull off her favorite sullen teenager act, but there was an edge of hysteria to her voice now that undermined the effect. “It was just a mix-up. Hannah probably meant next Friday.”

“Oh, really? Is there a party at the sandbar next Friday, too?” Fran asked.

Iris’s eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. Will was glad to see this. It meant his daughter wasn’t as accomplished a liar as he had started to fear.

“How did you know about that?” Iris gasped.

“It’s my job to know these things,” Fran said coolly.

“Our job,” Will said. He was mildly irritated that Fran wasn’t giving him credit for being the one to find out what Iris was up to. Okay, so Rory really deserved the credit for that, but whatever.

“I can’t go to the party?” Iris asked. Her voice was thin and high. Tears weren’t far off.

“Of course not. Consider yourself grounded for the indefinite future,” Fran said.

“For what? I haven’t done anything yet!” Iris said.

“You lied to us,” Will said.

“That’s only because I knew you’d never let me go to the party if I told you about it!”

Fran let out a bark of laughter. “Of course you’re not going to that party.”

“Why not? All of my friends are going!” Iris said. She stamped her foot, which, Will thought, made her look like she was six years old again and demanding to know why she couldn’t keep a miniature pony in the backyard.

“I highly doubt that, unless they’re all planning on sneaking out, too,” Fran said. “No parent in their right mind would let their freshman daughter go to a beer party at the sandbar with a bunch of senior guys.”

“This is so unfair,” Iris moaned. “Why can’t you trust me?”

“We’d be more likely to trust you if you didn’t lie to us,” Will said. “Just a thought.”

“You’re grounded for one month. No going out, no having friends over, and no cellphone,” Fran said.

“God, you’re ruining my life!” Iris said. She stormed off, and a minute later, her bedroom door slammed shut.

Will sighed and looked at his wife. “Are you going after her or should I?”

Fran shook her head. “No, let her sit and stew in her room.” She turned her attention back to the pile of clothes on her bed. “This may be the last peace and quiet we’ll get for the next month. I swear, grounding her and taking away her phone is going to be more of a punishment for me than her.”

Will stepped up behind her, and wrapped his arms around Fran. She relaxed against him for a moment.

“Just think. Only four more years until she goes to college,” Will said.

Fran groaned and covered her face with her hands. Will laughed and kissed the top of her head.

COOP STOOD IN THE shower, luxuriating in the feel of the hot water streaming down over his body. The shoot had gone well, but two months on a crowded boat that carried both
the ship’s crew and a full camera crew meant they’d all had to rough it. Showers had been a luxury. When he’d scrubbed what felt like a layer of grit off his body, he finally turned the taps off and briskly toweled himself dry.

Coop shaved carefully, while Bear looked on. He was lying on the bath mat, his furry head resting on his paws. The unmistakable odor of unwashed dog wafted up from him.

“Don’t think you’ve escaped. Tomorrow is bath day for you,” Coop told him.

Bear—who knew the word
bath
—slunk out of the bathroom, glancing back with a worried expression.

“Coward,” Coop called after him.

It was Table for Seven night. Two months ago, after he’d fulfilled his hosting obligation, Coop had had every intention of dropping out of the dinner party club. It was, he’d decided, a hassle he didn’t need in his life. That went for Audrey, too. She had serious issues, and Coop had never had a masochistic streak when it came to women.

But then he’d gone away for two months. And despite the many distractions—the gorgeous aquamarine water, the frequent sightings of schools of dolphins, a sexy brunette photographer named Giselle—thoughts of Audrey kept drifting into his mind, no matter how firmly he tried to push her away. He even considered calling her, but cell reception on the ship was spotty. He would have had to place the call from the ship’s bridge with the ship’s crew listening in.

He’d gotten back in town that morning and had planned to call Audrey as soon as he’d gotten settled in. But then he checked his email and saw that tonight was dinner party night. Even better, he’d thought. It was always easier to rekindle
a romance in person than over the phone. He’d called Jaime and double-checked that he wasn’t too late to RSVP, and she assured him that he was more than welcome.

Coop dressed casually in khaki shorts and a white button-down shirt that showed off his tan.

“How do I look?” he asked Bear, who, caught between his desire to be near Coop and his terror of baths, had compromised by sitting at the bathroom door. “Will she be impressed?”

Bear’s ears pricked up, and he began to pant. Coop took this as a sign of approval.

On his way over to the Wexlers’ house, Coop stopped at the liquor store to buy a few bottles of Spanish wine. Jaime had said they were having tapas, so it seemed in keeping with the theme of the evening.

“Hello,” Jaime said, when she opened the door to Coop. He kissed her cheek in greeting, and she accepted the wine. “Come on in. Everyone’s in the living room.”

Showtime
, Coop thought.

“How was your trip? Fran was just telling us that you’ve been out to sea for two months,” Jaime said.

“That’s right. We docked in the Bahamas this morning and I took a flight into Fort Lauderdale,” Coop said.

“What were you shooting?” Jaime asked.

“Dolphins, mostly. The documentary is about the complexity of their social networks. But we got some great shark footage, too,” Coop said.

“That sounds very exciting,” Jaime said, leading him into the tasteful beige living room.

The whole group was there. Fran and Will, Mark, Leland. But Coop’s eyes sought out Audrey, who was sitting on the sofa next to Leland, looking radiant in an orange wrap
dress. She looked up at Coop, and he could see the same apprehension and excitement he was feeling mirrored in her face. He smiled at her, trying to silently communicate how happy he was to see her.

“Coop! I thought I heard your voice.” Fran was at his side, smiling up at him. He leaned forward and kissed her, and then shook hands in turn with Will and Mark, who were standing with her. Then he turned, ready to greet Leland, and, finally, Audrey, when he realized he was suddenly face-to-face with Kenny. Short, balding Kenny with the big ears.

“Kenny Stabler,” Kenny said, sticking out his hand for a firmer than necessary handshake. “We met before at one of these shindigs. You’re Coop, right?”

“Right,” Coop said. He withdrew his hand.

“Your surprise appearance has been all anyone here can talk about,” Kenny said with a smile.

“Not me. I’m more excited about the pâté Jaime has promised us,” Will said, thumping Coop on the shoulder.

“We weren’t expecting you back in time,” Fran said. “I thought you weren’t due until sometime next week.”

“We got in a few days earlier than planned,” Coop said. He tried to look calm and collected, and not give away how annoyed he was at Kenny’s presence. Was he here as Audrey’s date again? And if so, how the hell had that happened?

“You’ll have to come over and see the girls. Rory’s grown about a foot since you left,” Fran said.

“And Iris has started lying to us and sneaking around with boys. It’s a phase we’re particularly enjoying,” Will added.

“I’ll come over and see them tomorrow,” Coop said.

“Hi, Coop.”

Coop turned to see Audrey standing beside him.

“Hi,” he said, hesitating for a few beats too long before he leaned over and kissed her cheek. She smelled like clean hair and expensive perfume.

“How was your trip?” she asked.

“Good. Long, but good,” he said.

Kenny stepped next to Audrey and slid his arm around her, his hand at her waist. Coop registered this, his eyes flickering down and then back up to Audrey’s face. She looked uneasy, he thought, and Coop wondered if she was embarrassed by Kenny. Or maybe it was having past and present lovers meet. This, the thought of Kenny sleeping with Audrey, instantly made Coop feel queasy.

“Hi, Leland,” Coop said, turning away from the sight of the happy couple to shake the older man’s hand.

“Good to see you back,” Leland said. “Franny was worried you’d been lost at sea.”

“I think Fran watches too many movies. And old episodes of
Gilligan’s Island
,” Coop said.

“Hey, can I help it if
The Perfect Storm
seriously freaked me out?” Fran called from across the room.

“Are you still obsessed with bacon?” Coop asked Leland.

Leland chuckled. “You haven’t been gone that long, my boy.”

“Really? It feels like I’ve been gone forever,” Coop said. He couldn’t help a rueful glance in Audrey’s direction. Kenny still had his arm around her. The only small comfort Coop could take was that Audrey wasn’t leaning toward Kenny or murmuring in his ear.

Leland followed Coop’s gaze and looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that if I were you,” he said quietly.

“No?” Coop asked, so startled at this comment he forgot
to deny any interest in the budding relationship between Audrey and Kenny. He wondered how Leland had figured out that he and Audrey were—or, at least, had been—involved. Did everyone at the dinner party club know? Did Kenny?

Leland shook his head slightly. “Definitely not,” he said.

“Here’s your drink,” Jaime said, appearing at Coop’s elbow. She handed him the vodka and tonic he’d requested.

“Thanks,” Coop said. He wanted to pursue his conversation with Leland, but knew it was impossible while everyone was there. He had to content himself with nodding his thanks at Leland, who was still looking thoughtful.

“I WANT TO HEAR more about your trip, Coop,” Fran said, once they were all seated around the Wexlers’ dining room table, eating a spinach salad studded with sweet chunks of grapefruit.

Fran was feeling a little light-headed, both from the wine and proximity to Coop. She’d forgotten how physically imposing he was. Even the hair on his arms—bleached blond from hours spent in the sun—fascinated her. She wanted to run her hands down his arm, to feel the texture of his skin against her fingertips.