Mrs West has been here. It’s lasagne, her Tuesday specialty and the aroma fills the spaces, makes it feel like home. The place is spotless. I peer in the oven and refrigerator, hoping for more of that cherry pie. No luck.
There’s an old-fashioned envelope in the middle of the dining table, propped against the vase of white flowers. It has a pale harlequin pattern all over it, and it’s embossed with a huge gold, old-fashioned “RFF” in the top left hand corner. It’s not my birthday.
I’m intrigued, and turn the envelope over, then sit back, remembering Jamison’s comment about the fundraising ball for old Raymond, Rest In Peace. I’ve already agreed to attend, with Dee, but I use the mother-of-pearl and silver letter opener and slide out the thick, cream-colored card, the same pastel artwork outlined in a gold frame on the cover.
The lettering inside is also gold.
“Please join us for the launch of the Raymond Fontaine Foundation, honoring my late husband and raising money for medical research in his memory. Bettina Fontaine.”
I exhale through pursed lips. Jamison must have given Bettina my new address. I hate charity events. This one is five hundred dollars a head. If people just donated the money and didn’t bother with the venue and drinks and food, there’d be so much more money to go around.
But then I remember Raymond, diagnosed far too early with dementia, an old occasional lunch pal who could always be relied upon to share a few tips and jokes about the world when I needed alternative views to my father’s.
My name appears below: “Doctor Dirk O’Connell plus one.”
“Plus one” – that old chestnut. Bettina is a good sort. She made contact when Millie died. I wouldn’t flatter myself to say she’s interested in me, but I want her to be in no doubt that just because we’re both single, we don’t belong together, like a pair of old shoes. Bettina is admirable. Raymond worked in Big Pharma, and Bettina was once a chemist who transferred into sales before she and Raymond became an item. Bettina on the loose ...
“Plus one.” The words haunt me.
It’s ages since I’ve gone to an event like this. Millie loved them. She’d go on the organising committees.
I’m about to throw the invitation in the trash, when I rest it back against the vase instead. Bettina at least deserves a hand-written apology. She and Raymond were a wonderful couple. Though I’d never be romantically interested in her – nor anyone else, ever again – I feel for her loss. And it’s an honorable cause.
I could just make a donation. It’s what I usually do.
A vision of Lucy in the emerald green ball gown emerges and won’t go away. I ignore it.
The lasagne waits. I need dinner. I don’t need more of Lucy in my life any more than I need Bettina.
Chapter 21
Lucy
When Linda from thenetwork calls, I’m surprised. It’s the first time I’ve heard from any of them. I guess that’s what happens when you leave your old life behind. Does Linda even know about the divorce? Of course she must. News like that travels fast in tv land, I remember.
“We’re doing a feature on ReUse,” says Linda.
