Part 26 (1/2)

”Angela,” Melanie called as the redhead moved toward the exit, ”could you help me with something?”

Angela eyed the door but didn't make a break for it. She followed Melanie down the corridor. Together they stepped into the kitchen.

”Bon voyage!” Ruth shouted, throwing confetti.

”Arrivederci!” Vivi yelled, though she wasn't sure why. A small sheet cake with a picture of a cruise s.h.i.+p surrounded by waves sat on the table. A bouquet of balloons-some with a bridal theme and some proclaiming Bon Voyage! were tied to the back of one of the chairs. Three brightly wrapped gifts sat next to it.

”This is your bridal shower and going-away party,” Melanie, said leading Angela to a place at the table. Vivi slid a gla.s.s of wine in front of her. Ruth threw the last handful of confetti.

Angela contemplated them from her seat. ”This is really sweet of you,” she said. ”I get the wedding part, but I don't really understand the bon voyage theme. Who's leaving?” She studied the three of them, her gaze focusing on Vivi.

”Nope. Sorry. That's privileged information at the moment.” Vivien smiled. ”In the meantime, drink this.” She placed the gla.s.s of wine in Angela's hand while Ruth cut three slices of cake. Melanie pa.s.sed Angela the first present.

”That one's from me,” Vivi said. ”And I expect you to wear it next week.”

Slowly Angela unwrapped the oblong box. Parting the tissue paper, she lifted out the emerald green belly-dance outfit. The top was a green velvet push-up bra shot through with gold thread and encrusted with gold coins. Angela gave it a jangle.

The harem pants were chiffon with a green velvet yolk encrusted with gold coins.

”Wow. I hardly know what to say.” Angela smiled.

Vivi turned to Melanie. ”Don't you think it's completely her?”

”Completely.” Melanie laughed. ”I hope you got one for yourself.”

”Here,” Ruth said, pus.h.i.+ng the other package toward Angela. ”This one's from Melanie and me.”

Angela pulled off the paper but not before taking a hefty sip of wine. The box yielded clothing, but with a lot less glitter and a whole lot more cla.s.s.

”Oh, that's beautiful.” Angela ran a hand over the cream silk blouse and matching shantung pants. She held the blouse up in front of her. ”It's almost the same color cream as my wedding dress.” Her smile slipped.

”It's a perfect shade with your hair and your eyes,” said Melanie.

Angela looked inside the collar. ”But it's only an eight.”

Melanie looked at her closely. ”Which may be too big.”

Angela shook her head in denial. ”No, I can't . . .”

Melanie put a finger to Angela's lips to shush her. ”This is where the bon voyage part starts.”

Vivi refilled Angela's gla.s.s and tilted it up to her lips.

”We're sending Fangie on a cruise,” Melanie said.

”Permanently,” added Ruth.

”It's time to kiss Fat Angie's a.s.s good-bye!”

THE NEXT AFTERNOON Vivien stopped off at the grocery store to pick up ground beef and frozen French fries. She wasn't a particularly great cook and she didn't attempt anything fancier than the burgers and fries she planned for tonight, but the look on Melanie's face when she got home after a day of work and running the kids and found food on the table had proven pretty inspirational.

As she pushed the rapidly filling cart, Vivien thought about last night's bridal shower/bon voyage party and hoped Fangie's departure would prove more than symbolic.

While they all agreed that Angela needed to be rid of Fangie, they didn't all agree about whether Angela should show the picture to James. Melanie had argued in favor of total honesty and insisted that James would not only understand but admire the change she'd wrought in her life. Ruth had come out in favor of the past staying in the past, since, she reasoned, James had fallen in love with the woman Angela was now and it didn't make sense to muddy the waters. It was like telling a potential husband about all the men you'd dated before you met him. Not much was accomplished, but damage could be done.

Vivi sighed as she wheeled the cart toward the checkout lines. Although she'd felt it too hypocritical to say so, she hoped Angela would tell James her secret. She wished she could do the same.

In line, Vivi perused magazine headlines. Next to the National Enquirer, with its headline about a minor celebrity who claimed to have been abducted and then returned by aliens and the Enquirer's oversized photo of Brad and Angelina and their brood, was a fresh stack of the Weekly Encounter, which carried her recent rant about SAT prep and the parental obsession with their children's scores. The woman in front of her was blatantly reading Scarlett Leigh's column, most likely with no intention of buying. Her lips were pressed together in a tight, unhappy line.

”This Scarlett Leigh is an absolute idiot,” she said.

Vivien arranged a look of interest on her face but kept her mouth closed.

The woman nodded toward Vivien's stomach. ”Just wait until your child is ready to graduate from high school. It'll probably feel even more like brain surgery by then than it does now. Obviously this Scarlett Leigh doesn't know squat about raising kids or getting them into college.”

Vivien smiled in a way that she hoped could be taken for agreement. An aisle over another woman chimed in.

”How can they let some woman who has no idea what she's talking about say whatever she feels like? Where are Scarlett Leigh's child-rearing credentials? I bet she's a d.a.m.ned man who knows as much as my d.a.m.ned ex-husband!”

The woman in front of Vivi had paid and was waiting for the last bags to be put in her cart. ”Well, I'd like to see that Scarlett person have to tell her child he didn't get into any of what were supposed to be his *safety' schools,” she huffed. ”I suppose she thinks we should just let them get whatever they get even if they never have a high enough score to leave home!”

There was a group shudder followed by a short, heavy silence.

Vivien shrank as far as an eight-and-a-half-months-pregnant woman could. Vivien felt even worse than she had when she was writing her apparently incendiary columns and more than a little afraid of what might happen if Scarlett's true ident.i.ty were ever revealed. She left the store as quickly as her swollen ankles and aching feet would take her, threw the grocery bags into the back of the SUV, and ditched the cart.

She was heaving herself up into the SUV when her cell phone rang. Caller ID said Matt Glazer. Tired of ducking him, she answered.

”Well, h.e.l.lo at last,” he said. ”What finally made you pick up?”

”Just trying to clean up some loose ends,” she said, ignoring the whine in his voice.

”That's all I am, a loose end?”

Not even, she thought. ”I a.s.sume you had a reason for calling?”

”Well, yes,” he admitted. ”I thought we might work together on something.”

It appeared Matt Glazer was not only whiny and presumptuous, but delusional. She told herself not to get worked up. Which would have been easier if the man weren't such a complete and utter moron.

”Did you come up with that idea before or after the Christmas Day hatchet job you did on me?”

”Oh, that,” he said as if he hadn't, in fact, told all of Atlanta that she was pregnant, long in the tooth, and unmarried. ”I just hated not to use the information. You know how that is. Once you dig it up you can't exactly put it back.”

This was true as she knew all too well, but as she had that first time they'd run into each other, she resented his putting them on the same level. ”I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop digging and leave me alone,” Vivien said. ”We knew each other a little bit a long time ago. I don't think that gives you the right to print whatever you want to about me.”

There was a pause during which she a.s.sumed he realized that meant ”no.”