Fool's Gold Collection Part 1: Chasing Perfect / Almost Perfect / Sister of the Bride / Finding Perfect. Susan Mallery
Читать онлайн книгу.
met him back when we were kids. He’s a total nerd, and not in a good way. We hated each other, and I get to spend four days with him. Someone just shoot me now.”
“How about another margarita?” Jo asked.
“That works, too.” Katie looked at Charity. “Are you happily married or dating? Because I’ll warn you—in this crowd, you’d be the only one.”
“Sorry, no. I have a string of bad breakups, as well.”
“Bummer,” Katie mumbled. “What’s wrong with us?”
“Nothing,” Jo said firmly. “You don’t need a man to be happy.”
“Try telling that to my whoo-whoo. It hasn’t seen action in nearly a year.”
Now Charity did laugh. Fortunately Katie didn’t seem to notice.
“There’s Crystal,” she said. “At least she was happy before.”
Jo poured another drink. “Crystal’s husband was killed in Iraq.” She glanced toward the doorway, then lowered her voice. “She’s sick. Cancer. So she doesn’t drink. Just so you don’t offer her anything.”
Charity thought about Pia’s friend. “She looks fine.”
“Right now things are good. We’re hoping the treatment can kill the cancer without taking her, too.”
“How awful. Does she have children?” Bad enough for them to lose their father, but now to be worried about their mother.
“Not exactly.”
Charity would have blamed her confusion on the wine, only she hadn’t yet taken a sip. “What do you mean?”
“They froze some embryos before her husband went off to Iraq. Just in case. She was planning to have them implanted, but the lymphoma was discovered during the routine physical. She wants to get better so she can have her babies.” Jo poured herself a glass of red. “Sometimes, life’s a bitch.”
Charity didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“We all are and there’s nothing any of us can do. That’s the worst part. Well, not for Crystal, obviously.” Jo shook her head. “I think I’ve had too much to drink. I don’t usually go on like this. Come on. Let’s get back to the girls.”
Charity followed Jo and Katie into the living room where she did her best not to stare at Crystal. Talk about sad.
“Are you enjoying Fool’s Gold?” one of the women asked.
“No one cares about that,” Desiree said with a laugh. “I want to know what she thinks of Josh.”
The room went silent as every pair of eyes focused on Charity. She froze, her glass of wine halfway to her lips.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re living at that hotel with him,” Desiree said with a laugh. “Tell us everything.”
Charity put down the wine. “I, ah, don’t live with him. I have a room at the hotel.” There was no way she was going to mention they were in rooms right next to each other. Talk about trouble. “I’ve met him a few times and he seems nice.”
“Have you gone out on a date?” one woman asked.
“No. Of course not.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Charity’s new to our evil ways. Don’t scare her off the first night. There hasn’t been much news on the Josh front lately, so they’re hungry for gossip about their favorite topic.”
“He’s a favorite topic?”
Nearly everyone laughed. Even Crystal chuckled.
“He’s gorgeous,” Desiree said with a sigh. “That face, that body.”
“That butt,” Pia muttered from the couch.
“She lives,” Jo said. “Hang in there, honey. It’ll get worse before it gets better, but you’ll survive.”
“There are other good-looking men in town,” Charity said.
“Maybe. But no one is like Josh,” Desiree told her. “It seems like he hasn’t had a real fling in a while.”
“There was that ski instructor,” Crystal said.
“That was last year. I can’t think of anyone.” Desiree looked hopefully at Charity. “Unless you want to confess something.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we’ve barely had any contact.” No way she was going to rat him out, she thought. This was a tough crowd. “Besides, I don’t think I’m his type.”
“If you’re female, you’re his type,” a woman across the room said.
Everyone laughed.
Not true, Charity thought, remembering the pain in Josh’s eyes. He’d been right—the town did have high expectations. A case could be made that they were completely unrealistic. No wonder he didn’t want to expose any weakness.
“She’s really not,” Pia said, pushing herself into a more stable seated position. “You could be, but you’re not.”
Charity didn’t know how to take that. “Meaning?”
“You dress, like, so plain. Those boxy dresses and jackets. I know you need to look professional for work, but dear God. Show a little skin.”
Crystal put her arm around Pia and whispered something in her ear. She smiled apologetically at Charity. “She’s not herself.”
Charity smiled back, but on the inside, she was squirming. What was wrong with her clothes? Of course she dressed conservatively. She was representing the town.
She told herself Pia was drunk and that her comments didn’t mean anything, but that didn’t stop Charity from blushing and wishing she could bolt for freedom. No one was looking at her, but the lack of attention was so pointed, it was as if everyone was staring at her.
Jo made a comment about a movie opening on Friday and conversation shifted. After a few minutes, Charity excused herself to use the restroom.
Once inside, she locked the door, then leaned against it, as if she had to catch her breath. After a moment, she walked toward the mirror and studied her reflection.
She could only see herself from the waist up. Although she’d gone back to the hotel before coming here, she hadn’t bothered to change, so she was still in the long-sleeved dress she’d worn all day.
The fabric was a cotton blend, in solid navy. A case could be made that it was a little too big, but she preferred her clothing loose. The jacket she’d worn with it was a tad boxy, but well-tailored.
As usual, she’d blown out her brown wavy hair until it was straight, then pulled it back into a braid. She wore small gold hoops, minimal makeup and a plain inexpensive watch. As she continued to study herself, she realized the best she could come up with was that she was clean.
“When did I start dressing like someone in her eighties?” she demanded, then realized she was doing seniors a disservice.
She sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her temples. After graduating from college, she’d found a great job in Seattle. She’d been the youngest person on the mayor’s staff and had found herself being dismissed whenever she made a suggestion. When she dressed older and went for a more conservative look, she’d been taken more seriously.
When she’d moved to Henderson, a suburb of Las Vegas, she’d continued to wear clothes more suited to someone a couple of decades older. That had worked for her. But somewhere along the way, she’d lost herself in the look. She’d stopped paying attention to herself. Maybe she’d stopped caring.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. Charity stood and smoothed the front of