All That Lies Broken (Ashmore's Folly Book 2) (27 page)

“I’ve already done that,” said Diana, with some satisfaction. “Hell, that was letting him off easy. No, I’m going to get Richard right where it hurts.”

Forget Jay Spencer, she couldn’t let this go. She didn’t care what it cost. She opened her mouth to offer Diana whatever she wanted, but her sister spoke first. “Not money, although he thinks that’s all I care about. I mean, I do, a girl’s got to live, but he’s not going to toss me away like
I don’t matter
—”

In the background, Laura heard a door slam on the side of the house – the kitchen? – and then a faint pounding of footsteps going upstairs. She glanced over her shoulder, but the flying staircase was empty. Where – oh, but there were stairs in the kitchen too.

“—I had dreams, I wanted to go to Paris and play jazz piano – but, oh no, that didn’t matter, Mr. Perfect wanted a wife and kids and his precious career and this blasted house—”

Julie’s bedroom door slammed.

“—and to hell with me. I know he’s got some little twit on the side who wants to play lady of the manor and restart this damn dynasty for him, but he’ll just have to wait—”

The door opening again off the kitchen, another set of footsteps, heavier, treading up the stairs.

“And, speaking of the devil, where
is
my darling husband?”

Julie’s door opened and closed, quietly.

She had to head Diana off. No matter what was going on between Julie and her father, Diana showing up would only add fuel to the fire. Any other time, she’d cheer Julie for standing up for what she wanted, not hiding behind the mask of the perfect daughter; Richard had carried the Victorian father stance too far. “He was out back last I looked.”

“Hmmm.” Diana rose. “Fine. Come back there with me.”

“What?” She didn’t have to feign calmness now. “No. Bad idea, Di—”

“Why not? It’s an Ashmore & McIntire party, isn’t it? I’m Mrs. Ashmore, aren’t I? I’m not going to let Mel McIntire steal all the glory.” Diana put a finger to her lips. “So – what do you think of dear Mel? Ready to run screaming yet?”

That was so exactly the truth that Laura had to squelch an unwilling laugh. “Why do you think I’m in here?”

Don’t ask what Mel said to make me come inside
…
Another kind of celebration
… But Diana was saying, “Preserve me from these women who organize everything like it’s the Army. Listen, I can’t go out there by myself. Richard will kill me. Come on.”

So much for smashing his face in. Richard wasn’t there, but Lucy was, and she didn’t need to deal with this. “No, Di.”

“Listen.” Diana’s hand clamped down on her arm. “You
owe
me. You swiped my stuff from me, and I’ll have you know, that cost me a bundle. I don’t need your meddling. If I want to smoke dope, I’ll smoke it. So, you come back out there with me, or I swear, I’m going to make a scene like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

She heard, faintly, raised voices from the upper story.

“Come on,” Diana dragged her up. “I want a margarita before Mel drinks them all.”

If they went back through the great room, Diana couldn’t miss the argument raging above their heads. Julie must be giving Richard the fight she had clearly been spoiling for earlier. Laura glanced around for the atrium doors she’d seen the night she had watched them; she’d heard the piano clearly because Julie had opened the doors—

“Let’s go this way,” she said, and led the way before Diana could say no.

If her sister thought that going out the front to get to the back terrace was strange, she said nothing. Diana came along without a word, and Laura mentally breathed a sigh of relief once they stepped outside. The air was heavier now, the storm clouds growing and darkening in the east. Her head was aching again, pain and pressure gathering tightly behind her eyes.

She felt Diana’s tension. For all that bravado, it must have taken considerable nerve to show up here today; she didn’t think she could ever have mustered the courage to come to the house of a husband who did not want her there.

“Richard’s done some planting this spring.” Diana followed her around the side of the house. “I don’t remember these roses.”

The sounds of the party reached their ears, the guests of Ashmore & McIntire having a good time with no premonition of the storm clouds gathering. They did not feel, as Laura did, the electric tension in the host’s estranged wife as she entered hostile territory. They did not know that the Widow had sat there quietly, minutes before, dreaming of taking Diana’s place, forced now to bring her rival into their midst.

The Queen Bee table was down on one of the lower levels of the terrace, and Lucy was sitting so that she faced the back of the house. She saw Diana and Laura the second they came into view; her head jerked up and her eyes widened. She must have said something to the other Queen Bees, because instantly all heads at the table swiveled to watch.

Lucy jumped up and made a beeline for Diana.

If Richard was upstairs with Julie…. Laura looked around for Tom. He was Richard’s lawyer too; surely he could deal with Diana. But he had vanished. Scott McIntire was over near the grill, talking to the caterers, his back to the crowd. She didn’t know if Richard would want him involved or not.

A sharp pain hit hard above her eyes.

“Di?” Lucy’s voice cut through the air. “What are you doing here?”

And then, once again, Diana changed, in the stroke of a second. She had been strung tight the second before; now, all the tension dropped from her face, and she was all smiles. But the smile still didn’t touch her eyes, and her fingers on Laura’s arm dug in deep.

Lucy wasn’t buying it; she looked furious as she mounted the last two steps. “Are you crazy? You’re not supposed to be—”

“Now, Lucy.” Diana put her arm around her shoulders. “I know what a pain these things always are. I couldn’t let you do all this work yourself, you being pregnant and all – I’m so sorry I’m late – hey, is that Mel down there?” She waved her free hand. “Hi, Mel! Save me a margarita!”

Lucy wrenched away from Diana. “You are not supposed to be here. You know that.”

“But I
am
here,” said Diana reasonably. “And I might as well help. Look at all these people, and where’s our dear host?” She walked down a couple of steps and held out her hand to the power couple. “Kim Leventhal! It’s been so long – how
are
you? Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you, I got held up—”

And, before anyone could stop her, Diana turned into the hostess.

She moved easily around the terrace. She sparkled, she laughed, she made small talk with Richard’s guests. She accepted a compliment about the flowers on the edge of the terrace, spun a convincing story about planting the roses on the western side of the house, and thanked a couple for their kind words about how beautiful Julie was turning out to be. “I know – she’s growing up so fast. I can hardly believe I have a daughter old enough to drive.” She told one man that her husband was inside tending to some matters but would rejoin them shortly. She beckoned to Laura, put her arm around her younger sister’s waist, and then exclaimed to two guests, “Richard and I are so
happy
to have her back home with us. It’s a dream come true. Our family’s complete again.”

It was the performance of the decade.

It was a nightmare.

Laura tasted ash in her mouth; Diana’s arm around her waist felt like an imprisoning chain. She disentangled herself as quickly as she could and stepped back. Lucy never left her side. They stood silently, watching as Diana made her way through the crowd, talking, shaking hands, asserting her right to be here, doing all the things that anyone would expect of the mistress of Ashmore Park. Mrs. Richard Ashmore, stepping back into her starring role.

Anyone surprised to see her covered it well. People seemed genuinely glad to see her.

And why not? Diana was their contemporary. She’d gone to school with many of them. Some of these people had attended her wedding. One of the women had hosted a bridal shower for her, where Peggy had given her the quilt that now covered Richard’s bed.

“Laurie.”

She’d dreamed of standing here beside him, but this wasn’t her world. She was an intruder. She had no right to any of this.

“Laurie.”

Lucy’s whisper cut through her misery.

“I need your help.” Lucy’s flat voice belied the compassion in her eyes. “Do you know where Richard is?”

She stared at Lucy blankly.

“Look, you have to snap out of this.” Lucy pulled her around so her back was to the rest of the guests. “I know you’re hurt, I’m sorry, but that’s not important right now. Where’s Richard?”

She found her voice. “Upstairs. He and Julie are having words.”

“Oh, God almighty!” Lucy pulled out her phone. “I suppose Julie was with the O’Reilly boy. Well, too bad. Go upstairs and get him.” She punched a button on her cell. “Tom’s gone off with some guys to fly RC. We’ve got to get her out of here.”

Laura’s eyes traveled back to Diana, down at the Queen Bee table and pouring herself a margarita. Even at this distance, she saw the Queen Bees closing ranks behind Mel, whose body language was unfriendly and unwelcoming. Diana looked hostile. Whatever Mel was saying, it clearly did not sit well with Mrs. Ashmore. “Why?” She heard the bitterness in her voice. “Di’s having a great time. She’s his wife, isn’t she?”

“Not for long.” Lucy paused. “Look, I know, but we don’t have the time for that right now. Go get Richard.” She spoke into the phone. “Di showed up. Come quick.” She folded her phone. “Go.”

Laura turned to go and stopped. She was too used to compliance – Dominic’s daughter, Cam’s wife, the younger sister. Richard’s mistress, who knew her place on the periphery. “Lucy.”

Lucy was already two steps down, but she turned around. “What?”

“Why is it important to get her away from here so fast?”

Lucy paused, and horrible visions flew through Laura’s mind. Diana smashing Richard’s face in, Diana making a scene in front of his clients, Diana screaming at him about Francie – and then Lucy said flatly, “Two reasons. Every time she’s here, something gets broken. And the other is – Di is not stupid, and you look like a wounded bird, and she will guess the second she sees you two together. Now go.”

She hurried down the steps towards the Queen Bee table.

~•~

Laura would have given anything to keep right on going, through the house, straight out to her car, out the gates, back to the safety of Edwards Lake. Back to London, where nothing could touch her. Solitude and peace, a place to crawl into the dark and stare into the bleakness of the night. It was her own fault; she should have known better. She’d known, she’d always known, that neither time nor tide could ever eradicate Diana’s prior claim.

She had thought, stupidly, that the divorce would put things right, turn back the clock, undo the mistake of that marriage. He had known better; he had told her that they did not come to each other unencumbered. But she had not listened; she had refused to understand.

She had refused to see that Diana would always be his lodestar.

I cannot deal with this.

She hesitated at the foot of the flying staircase, her hand on the railing, and listened. Silence. Richard and Julie had resolved their argument, or maybe he’d banished her to a tower somewhere. Fine. She wished she could be banished to a tower, where she would never have to face Diana or Richard again.

She climbed the stairs.

At Julie’s door, not shut but pulled to, she stopped, and heard her niece’s weeping.

“You don’t trust me – I try and try to be a good daughter, and you still think I’m like her—”

“Julie.” Richard’s voice was low and gentle. “I don’t want you making the mistakes we made.”

“But I’m not going to, Dad. I won’t.” Julie was still sobbing. Laura couldn’t tell from her side of the door if this was another world-class performance, or Julie was genuinely upset. “I really like Mike, I do, and you know his dad, you know Mike’s okay, please let me go—”

She heard Richard’s intake of breath. “Julie – I want a few minutes to think about this. I don’t like you going with him, particularly after—”

After what? Had he caught Julie making out with Mike? Laura bit her lip. Any other time, it would have been funny.

He sounded too much like Dominic.
You are not to see that boy again, do you understand?

Too bad Dominic’s lectures to Diana, reminding her that her art was more important than her attachment to
that Ashmore boy
, had fallen on deaf ears.

“That means no,” Julie burst out. “You don’t want me to have fun. Look, if I get out of here tonight, you can have your date. I heard you talking to your girlfriend, you said you were going to get a bottle of wine and rent a movie—”

Tonight
. There was no way she could see him tonight, drink wine with him, make love with him. She could not accept, not any longer, her exile to the dark hours of the night.