Part 23 (1/2)
”You don't like men either. Do you, Prissy?”
Cathy took a gla.s.s of wine from Priscilla and sat at the end of the L-shaped leather sofa. ”When you said you wanted a girls'
night, I figured that meant you were fed up with Geoffrey.
What's he done?”
”Just the same old, same old. I was so jealous when I talked to Carmen in New York and heard all of you were going out. I wanted to be there too.”
Priscilla joined them in the living room and sat next to Cathy.
”You were there . . . in spirit, anyway. At least it seemed like that to all of us.”
Carmen shot Cathy and Priscilla a stern look as they chuckled.
”I left Roger at home doing laundry,” Priscilla said, patting the couch so her namesake would join her.
”All the men at my house were watching the basketball tour-nament. They didn't mind me coming over here, but Hank nearly threw himself under the wheels of the car when he saw me 158 trying to leave with the cheesecake.”
”You brought cheesecake?” Priscilla's face lit up.
Cathy looked away sheepishly. ”No, I left it with them.”
”You're such a sucker!” Brooke squealed.
”They were pitiful. What if one of them had starved while I was gone? I would have felt terrible.”
As Carmen sank onto the couch, she thought she noticed Brooke wiping a tear. ”You okay?”
Brooke nodded hastily. ”Just something in my eye. I'll go see about it.” She jumped up and disappeared into the bathroom, not the guest bath in the hallway, but Carmen's bath in the master suite. Carmen liked that Brooke felt completely at home.
The three women sat silently until Brooke joined them again.
”It was an eyelash. It's okay now.”
”So how do you like your new job, Brooke?”
”It's fantastic!”
Carmen went into the kitchen to put the bread in the oven.
”Why don't you tell us about it while we eat all this delicious food that isn't cheesecake?”
For the next two hours, the four friends ate, laughed and talked, all reveling in their conspiratorial freedom from men.
Even Prissy celebrated, secretly scoring pieces of mozzarella cheese from each of the visitors. When the food was gone, they retreated to the living room for coffee, which Carmen splashed with Bailey's since they didn't have dessert.
”I guess I should be getting home,” Cathy announced. ”That cheesecake will be gone by now and they'll all be starving again.”
”Me too,” Priscilla said. ”I have to get to bed early. I have a seven o'clock breakfast with His Honor to go over his top secret ideas for bidding on the Olympics.”
”You must mean the Winter Olympics, right?” Carmen asked, feigning innocence.
”Can't you see them bobsledding at the Eisenhower inter-change?” Cathy quipped on her way into the guest bedroom to 159 get their coats.
”You guys are funny. I'll be sure to share your thoughts.”
”I'm glad you could make it over. We don't get to do this often enough,” Carmen said, slinging her arm around Brooke's shoulder.
”We could do it again next weekend if you're free,” Priscilla said, undoubtedly knowing it would get a rise out of Carmen.
”Oh, never mind. I think I promised Roger we'd go to The Dells.”
Cathy returned to distribute their coats, but Brooke tossed hers over the couch. ”I'm not quite ready to go, unless you need me to.”
”No, you can stay.” All evening, Carmen had felt as if something was bothering Brooke. Now that the others were leaving, she would encourage her to talk about it.
”Cathy, I'll see you tomorrow.”
”You have a conference call at eight thirty and another at nine fifteen.”
”Great way to start a Monday.” She held the front door as Priscilla followed Cathy out. ”And you be sure to give His Honor my warmest regards.”
”Should I tell him you think he's an a.s.shole?”
”Sure, why not?” She closed the door behind her friends and turned to face Brooke, who looked as if she was on the verge of tears. ”What's up with you? Is something wrong?”
Brooke suddenly wrapped her arms around Carmen's neck and began to sob.
”Brooke?” Carmen held her for several minutes while she cried, gently stroking her back and swaying slightly to soothe her. ”Let's go sit down.”
She led Brooke to the couch and let go of her.
”No, sit beside me.”
”I will. Do you need anything? Do you want something to drink?”
160.
Brooke shook her head.
One by one, Carmen turned out the lights in her apartment until they were in total darkness. Then she flipped a switch to turn on the gas log fireplace. In their thirty years as friends, this was how they talked, how Carmen rendered comfort. To her, the quiet repose was as intimate as s.e.x, and the darkness helped hide her face from revealing her true feelings.
”Okay, now tell me what's wrong.” She returned to Brooke's side and pulled her close. ”Is it Geoffrey?”
”No . . . yes . . . G.o.d, I feel like such an idiot.” She pushed away new tears. ”Why did I ever marry him?”