But at least when I walk over to Jeff and Eric’s on Thursday evening, I feel pretty confident. And I’m excited. Since last night involved me eating a bowl of cereal for dinner and sleeping next to an open window to avoid breathing in too many paint fumes, I’m treating this party as a little celebration for getting the Titan up and running. Even Todd had offered his thanks today, though I think Dr. Wagner made him do it.
A note on the door tells guests to come on in, and I’m not even half a step into the foyer before I start gaping—it’s gorgeous in here, every detail exactly right. Beneath my feet are hardwoods polished to a high shine, a large, circular rug that manages to look modern and still suit the old feel of the house. The staircase to my left is intricate, striking, with newel caps and small, inset medallions that look hand-carved. In front of me is a huge mirror, surrounded with similarly detailed woodworking, coat hooks flanking either side; beneath it is an old steamer trunk that’s been turned into a functional bench. I resist the urge to take out my phone, snap a few pictures so that I can remember this for later, for all the times I’m thinking about how to make my own place look good. To my right, similar to the layout in my own house, is the main living space, and the laughter and conversation is flowing easily.
It’s probably rude of me, but at first I don’t even scan the people in the room. I’m too busy fixating on the fireplace, the recessed lighting, the crown molding. Holy crap. My house is a two on Zoe’s scale, by comparison.
“Kit!” a voice booms out, and it’s neither Jeff nor Eric, but—Henry Tucker?
He’s sitting in a wingback chair set near the fireplace, a plate of food balanced on his knee, his good hand waving me over. My first thought is for Ben—is he here? Did he know I was coming? But a quick scan of the room and I don’t see him anywhere, though I’m not sure how Henry would’ve gotten here on his own. Still, I’m oddly relieved to see Henry. While I know Jeff and Eric, wherever they are, will be great, welcoming hosts, it’s nice to feel as if I’m in with part of this crowd already.
I wade through the guests, giving polite smiles as I go, and reach Henry, leaning down a bit to shake his hand.“It’s nice to see you again,” I say, smiling wide at him as I take in his outfit—he’s wearing a faded plaid shirt tucked into—hey,wait a minute—cargo pants, his big black boot covering one leg.“You’re lucky. They said I couldn’t wear my pants like that.”
“Sexism!” Henry cries, his eyes bright with laughter.“No, Jeff and Eric are good people. But two changes of clothes in a single day is probably a bit too much to ask of my son, so I think they’re giving me a pass tonight.”
“Oh,” I say, my face heating.“Is he here?”
“Out back,” he answers, lifting a crab cake to his mouth. I look up, through the dining room, trying to get a glimpse of Ben out the back window, but I don’t see him.“We did the materials for the patio they’re having built, so Ben’s checking on the progress. I’d do it myself, but guess who’s already used up almost all his allowed weight-bearing minutes today?” He pauses and then jerks a thumb at his chest.“This guy.”
“Bummer.How’s the food?”
He takes a surreptitious look around, lowers his voice.“Honestly I thought these crab cakes had dirt in them. Eric says that’s the mushroom oil he puts on top. Also I wanted a beer and he gave me this.” He lifts a light green bottle that he’s tucked between his hip and the arm of the chair.“He said it was beer, but it tastes like lemons.”
I have to laugh at his honesty.“It’s a pretty fancy party, I guess.”
“First time here for me.But I’ve known Jeff since he was a kid, and he’s bought so much stuff from me over the last five years I figured it was time for me to see the results.”
“It looks wonderful.I wish you could show me every single thing that came from the yard that’s in here.”
His smile is so similar to Ben’s that I straighten, only to look up and meet the eyes of the man himself. I don’t miss that his graze tracks down for the barest of seconds, tracing my mouth, my shoulders, my chest. In spite of myself, I feel a spark of pleasure at his attention.“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he says, and it’s almost an apology, as though he’s embarrassed to find himself here.“I promise.”
“No—I—well, I’m a late addition to the invitation list, I guess. I didn’t know you’d be here, either.”
“Good lord, you two,” Henry says.“One of you get me another one of those dirt cakes, will you?” He holds up his plate, and Ben takes it before I can reach out.“Get the lady a drink while you’re at it.”
Ben and I smile at each other, a little shyly. Henry gives good icebreaker, that’s for sure, and when Ben holds out his arm to gesture me ahead of him, I follow.“Listen,” I say, once we’ve passed into the dining room, where the table is laid with an assortment of platters, all the food looking professionally prepared. I turn and set a hand on his forearm briefly, then snatch it back just as quickly. The sleeves of his blue button-up are rolled up, the skin on his forearms warm, tight over the muscles beneath. I only meant tostillhim, I tell myself. I’m not going to go aroundtouchinghim just for the sake of it. He looks down at where my hand rested, then back up at me.“Listen,” I say again, regaining my bearings.“I’m sorry about before, last week. I overreacted.”
That dimple, right on his left cheek there. I’d like tolickthat dimple.“Hey, no. I’m sorry. I was having an off day.”
“You were just doing your job.” I shrug, and the dimple disappears. His smile is replaced by something blander, less inviting, but still, technically, a smile.
I turn and we load up two plates, one for me and another for Henry, and Ben pauses at the buffet that’s set under the back window to pour me a drink. We’re quiet, feeling each other out, some new tension between us. I’m grateful when Jeff and Eric come through from the kitchen, greeting me warmly. Before I know it, Ben and I are pulled away from each other, Jeff introducing him to a lithe, glamorous blonde from his office and Eric leading me through an abbreviated tour of the house, with frequent stops to introduce me to other guests, all of whom seem perfectly nice and interesting.
But I’m having trouble focusing on any of it, because my eyes keep seeking out Ben, who’d returned to deliver more food to Henry, the blonde having followed. It seems he’s leaned in that same position, against the mantel, for the entire hour I’ve been here. At some point I’m pretty sure I agree to serve on a neighborhood community board, but it barely registers. Because the thing is—I think his eyes keep seeking me out too. More than once, our gazes have tangled, and I’m always the first to look away.
Despite my distraction, though, this is a pretty good showing for me at a cocktail party. I’ve done some champion mingling, if I do say so myself. But the introvert in me is starting to cry out in distress, or maybe that’s just my feet in these shoes. Either way, I make my way to Jeff and Eric, offering my thanks and compliments before heading over to Ben and Henry again. The blonde smiles politely as I approach, and before I can say anything, Ben speaks up.“Jennifer, this Ekaterina Averin. She works as a research scientist at the university. Kit, Jennifer’s an accountant at Waterfield’s.”
“Hi,” I say, shaking her hand.“I’m really a lab tech. Ben’s overstating it.”
“No. I’m not,” he says, his eyes on me, his voice serious. Jennifer looks back and forth between us, and seems to pick up on something, politely disentangling herself from our little party. This whole evening—it feels strange, uneasy. At this point, I don’t even care if Ben wants to talk about Beaumont again. I just want things to go back to the way they were before.
“You get that light hung yet?” asks Henry, and my eyes break from Ben’s. Did I say I’m happy with this top Zoe picked out? Because right now it’s sealing in every nervous drop of sweat that’s forming between my breasts.
“Ah—unfortunately, no. It’s been a really busy week. But I will, I promise. And I’ll make sure I send a picture.”
“Why don’t you ask this knucklehead to hang it? I guess he’s terrible at conversation when it comes to you, but he can get that light hung in under an hour.”
“Dad,” Ben says, shaking his head in embarrassment, that same joking resignation that’s part of their dynamic together every time I’ve been around them.
“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you all anymore.”
