Charming to carry her away. She was stuck, and no one seemed to notice.
When the pill kicked in, she turned on the light and looked in the mirror. Back to work. The check would help cover her real estate taxes, and maybe even a facial. She sure needed one.
Neely came down to find Anne counting out soup spoons, humming along with the band.
“There you are,” Anne said. “Dave was looking for you.”
“I bet. Get me a glass of champagne, will ya?”
Anne lifted an eyebrow.
“It’s just champagne. Oh, all right, never mind, I’ll get it myself.” Neely poured herself a glass and sat down at the table. “So, how’s the auditioning going?” No matter how bad things were for Neely, they were worse for Anne. This little chat would be just the thing to cheer Neely up.
“Could be better. I almost had a great commercial, but then they canceled the campaign.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish.”
“Well, something else will come along. Hey, I have an idea. I know about this great job.”
“Neely, you don’t have to. A deal’s a deal.” Anne noticed how quickly Neely went through the champagne. “Happy thirtieth birthday, kiddo.”
“Yeah, right. Listen. I know a guy in cable, he’s auditioning for someone to host a women’s lifestyle show. Cooking, gardening, decorating, like that. Want me to put in a word?”
“That’s okay.”
“What, an old friend can’t do you a favor?”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Fine, whatever,” Neely said. “You know, make a point if you want to, but you know who you’re really hurting? That ten-year-oldkid upstairs. Anyway. Never keep the photographers waiting,” she said, chugging the last of her champagne.
Fifteen minutes later a fat man with thick gray hair came in, holding a freshly lit cigar.
“Are you Anne Welles? What am I saying. Of course you are. You haven’t changed a bit.” He held out his hand. “Jamie Walters.”
“Hello. I’m sorry, I can’t quite place you.”
“Neely sent me in here to meet you. She said you might be interested in a little cable project I’m working on.” He gave her his business card. “Can you call me on Monday? What am I saying. Of course you can call me on Monday.” He left without waiting for her answer.
After the plates were cleared, after the band went home, after the final cup of coffee was served and the last few guests wandered down the long driveway, after Gretchen carried a dozing Jenn piggyback to her car, after Neely and Dave went upstairs and the staff packed up, Anne went outside to find Curtis smoking a cigarette and looking through one of the telescopes.
“What a beautiful night,” he said. “Have a peek.”
Anne took a look. “I don’t know what anything is,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Anne walked to her car through the damp grass. It was a half-hour ride home. Trees arched over the road like a canopy. Van Morrison was on the radio, a song she had heard a hundred times without really listening to it. She turned up the volume and it felt as though he were singing directly to her, in a wise, clear voice full of sadness and hope and magic.
She had been down this road a hundred times, too, more than a hundred times, but it looked different to her now, as if every little thing—the street lamps twinkling between the trees, a white balloon caught on a traffic signal, a bouquet of roses abandoned on the hood of a parked car—had a special message for her. I never noticed anything when I was with Lyon , she thought, and here it all is, here it all is .
She was home by three. Jenn and Gretchen were eating blueberry pie straight from the tin.
“We can’t sleep, Mom,” Jenn said. “So we’re going to stay up all night.”
“I tried,” Gretchen said.
“That’s okay. Give me a fork,” Anne said.
Gretchen could not stop talking about all the famous people she had seen, what they had worn and said and how much they had drunk. A rock-and-roll singer had given her
When the pill kicked in, she turned on the light and looked in the mirror. Back to work. The check would help cover her real estate taxes, and maybe even a facial. She sure needed one.
Neely came down to find Anne counting out soup spoons, humming along with the band.
“There you are,” Anne said. “Dave was looking for you.”
“I bet. Get me a glass of champagne, will ya?”
Anne lifted an eyebrow.
“It’s just champagne. Oh, all right, never mind, I’ll get it myself.” Neely poured herself a glass and sat down at the table. “So, how’s the auditioning going?” No matter how bad things were for Neely, they were worse for Anne. This little chat would be just the thing to cheer Neely up.
“Could be better. I almost had a great commercial, but then they canceled the campaign.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish.”
“Well, something else will come along. Hey, I have an idea. I know about this great job.”
“Neely, you don’t have to. A deal’s a deal.” Anne noticed how quickly Neely went through the champagne. “Happy thirtieth birthday, kiddo.”
“Yeah, right. Listen. I know a guy in cable, he’s auditioning for someone to host a women’s lifestyle show. Cooking, gardening, decorating, like that. Want me to put in a word?”
“That’s okay.”
“What, an old friend can’t do you a favor?”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Fine, whatever,” Neely said. “You know, make a point if you want to, but you know who you’re really hurting? That ten-year-oldkid upstairs. Anyway. Never keep the photographers waiting,” she said, chugging the last of her champagne.
Fifteen minutes later a fat man with thick gray hair came in, holding a freshly lit cigar.
“Are you Anne Welles? What am I saying. Of course you are. You haven’t changed a bit.” He held out his hand. “Jamie Walters.”
“Hello. I’m sorry, I can’t quite place you.”
“Neely sent me in here to meet you. She said you might be interested in a little cable project I’m working on.” He gave her his business card. “Can you call me on Monday? What am I saying. Of course you can call me on Monday.” He left without waiting for her answer.
After the plates were cleared, after the band went home, after the final cup of coffee was served and the last few guests wandered down the long driveway, after Gretchen carried a dozing Jenn piggyback to her car, after Neely and Dave went upstairs and the staff packed up, Anne went outside to find Curtis smoking a cigarette and looking through one of the telescopes.
“What a beautiful night,” he said. “Have a peek.”
Anne took a look. “I don’t know what anything is,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Anne walked to her car through the damp grass. It was a half-hour ride home. Trees arched over the road like a canopy. Van Morrison was on the radio, a song she had heard a hundred times without really listening to it. She turned up the volume and it felt as though he were singing directly to her, in a wise, clear voice full of sadness and hope and magic.
She had been down this road a hundred times, too, more than a hundred times, but it looked different to her now, as if every little thing—the street lamps twinkling between the trees, a white balloon caught on a traffic signal, a bouquet of roses abandoned on the hood of a parked car—had a special message for her. I never noticed anything when I was with Lyon , she thought, and here it all is, here it all is .
She was home by three. Jenn and Gretchen were eating blueberry pie straight from the tin.
“We can’t sleep, Mom,” Jenn said. “So we’re going to stay up all night.”
“I tried,” Gretchen said.
“That’s okay. Give me a fork,” Anne said.
Gretchen could not stop talking about all the famous people she had seen, what they had worn and said and how much they had drunk. A rock-and-roll singer had given her
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