“You might want to watch yourself, Vera. Dig too deep and you won’t like what you find.”
Vera watched her go, the door clicking quietly shut behind her as the sound of her Prada heels clacking against the marble floors faded into the hum of the party.
CHAPTER 5
Money is your servant—do not let it be your master.
—An American Proverb
The women were not surprised to see Tiffany paused on the threshold of the patio, searching the fire pits and tables for her friends. The people outside turned to watch as she passed, their eyes flashing brilliant hues of green or gold as her scent—heavy with the reek of agitation even through the cloud of citronella—caught their interest. Once they noted where she was headed, many returned to their conversations or to picking at the hors d’oeuvres, but several continued to watch her with veiled interest as she paused behind the seat Vera had earlier vacated.
“Ladies. Sorry I took so long to join you.”
Tiffany’s tone was light, but her white-knuckled grip on the back of the latticework iron chair bespoke her irritation. Heather, who had been nervously nibbling her bottom lip, leaned forward and put her hand lightly on Tiffany’s arm.
“Are you okay? Vera didn’t find you, did she?”
“She did,” she replied, her smile cold and humorless, “but don’t worry. We came to an understanding of sorts.”
The others were clearly interested in hearing about it, but too polite to push—beyond more than overly curious, questioning expressions—and Tiffany was not budging in her silence on the topic. After a wordless conversation composed of nothing but significant looks, raised brows, and slight twitches of lips shared between Cassandra and Tiffany, they came to an understanding.
‘Don’t ask. You won’t like the answer.’
‘Come on, you know you want to tell us what happened.’
‘It’s none of your damned business.’
‘You know she’ll give us the details when you’re not around anyway. You might as well tell us your side of it now.’
‘It’s my story to tell or not. Don’t push me.’
‘Are you sure? It might not be wise to keep so much to yourself. ’
‘Drop it.’
Eventually, Cassandra broke eye contact, feigning a sudden and intense interest in her drink. Gradually, Tiffany’s grip on the back of the chair loosened, and she gestured at the partygoers mingling and chatting nearby.
“There are a lot of people here I don’t recognize. Heather, I don’t suppose you’d be a love and introduce me, would you?”
“Of course she will,” Cassandra said. “We’ll all join you. There are a few people I’d like for you to meet, too.”
Heather shot a helpless look at Cassandra, and then pushed her chair back with a harsh scrape over the patterned brick. Alexis smirked, but didn’t utter a word, setting her drink aside so she could smooth out her skirt and brush her hair back over her shoulder.
Cassandra hooked her arm through Tiffany’s and paraded her through the gathered throngs in the gardens and around the fire pits as if she were a show pony. She breezed through introductions, highlighting a few interesting tidbits and assets—both of Tiffany and of the people she was meeting—before pushing her along to the next group. Once she was introduced to a few of the young men Cassandra called “terminally single,” Tiffany’s mood lightened considerably, as she batted her lashes and flashed dazzling smiles at the more attractive of the bunch.
Several of them returned her obvious interest in kind with heated looks and a choice turn of phrase, but she expertly maneuvered through their flirtations without insulting or abandoning her hosts.
“I do believe Travis has taken a shine to you,” Alexis remarked as they paused in their rounds for drinks and to nibble a few hors d’oeuvres. “He’s still watching us. Look.”
Tiffany giggled, a cute, girlish sound that drew more curious eyes their way. “Oh stop. I was just playing with the boy. He’s too young for me, I think.”
“No harm in having a bit of fun with him, though,” Heather said.
Cassandra chuckled at the exchange before popping a slice of strawberry in her mouth, and then urging the girls to continue their rounds.
They gradually worked their way deeper into the garden toward those who were clearly more familiar with the house and each other, and were more interested in talking business than showing themselves off as the people inside were doing. There were not many women this far from the lights and tiki torches, and much of the talk was hushed, muted by distance or burbling fountains. Some—but not all—were older, and all of them radiated strength and vitality that was lacking in those who stayed closer to the house. Cassandra made the effort to introduce Tiffany to each person, and her introductions became more formal and elaborate.
Lastly, they joined Cassandra’s husband, Gabriel, who was speaking to Alexis’s husband and a trio of older gentlemen. Cassandra drew Tiffany in front of her, settling her hands familiarly on the girl’s shoulders, earning speculative looks from the men.
“Darling, this is Tiffany Winters, that charming woman I’ve been telling you so much about. Tiffany, this is my husband, Gabriel Sachs. I’ve been meaning to introduce you two all night.”
Gabriel cut a fine figure in his fitted slacks and a button-down shirt that put the tailors of Savile Row to shame. He had the tanned skin and sun-bleached hair of a man who spent a great deal of his time outdoors, and proved that he wasn’t afraid of hard work by his rough, calloused hand, which closed gently around Tiffany’s. He inclined his head, gaze sliding to Cassandra before returning to the new girl.
“A pleasure, Tiffany. I’ve heard so much about you.” He smiled as her cheeks colored in a blush, and extended his hand to each of his companions, introducing them in turn. “Might I introduce Arthur Norris, Basil Thornwood, Phillip Edgington, and Dr. Greene?”
A quick round of welcoming words, handshakes, and head nods set Tiffany at ease. More so when one of them asked who her husband was, noting the ring she had not yet removed. It was enough to make her laugh, holding her hand up so the gem could catch the light.
“Don’t let this fool you. I’m only wearing it as a reminder.”
“I can’t imagine what a woman as lovely as you is doing here alone. If only I were a few years younger, so I could catch your eye as those young bucks by the house do,” lamented Phillip, a silver-haired gentleman. He caught and held her upraised hand so that he could bow over it, his thumb lightly stroking her knuckles. Tiffany demurely lowered her eyes, while the other ladies were busy rolling theirs. “Do feel free to call on me, charming thing that you are. I’d delight in your company.”