"Just d-d-don't make a scene, Caro, all right? That's all I'm asking."
"All you're asking? And what do you think gives you the right to ask anything? Have you spoken to Lenny? About the raise?"
John looked pained. "Not yet. It's not as s-s-simple as you seem to think it is."
"On the contrary, John. It's very simple. Either you talk to him or I will."
"No! You c-can't! Please, you must leave L-Lenny to me."
"Fine. But you'd better grow some balls and talk to him before the end of this vacation. If I have to listen to his vacuous wifelette gush one more time about how grateful she is for my incredible friendship, I can't be held responsible for my actions."
John Merrivale thought sadly, Grace is grateful for your friendship. Poor, misguided girl.
Lenny was a lucky man. Wives like Grace were one in a million.
"PLEASE DON'T STAND ON CEREMONY, EVERYONE. Dig in!"
Grace felt unaccountably nervous. The dinner itself looked fabulous. Felicia had excelled herself as usual. The lobster bisque smelled exquisite and was the perfect shade of pale pink, the roast lamb looked mouthwateringly succulent on its bed of organic greens and the raspberry Pavlova was as much a sculpture as a dessert, a towering triumph of snow-white meringue and blood-red berries. Caroline couldn't fail to be delighted.
And yet Grace could not enjoy her triumph. Earlier that day she'd seen Connie talking heatedly with Lenny on the beach, then storming off close to tears. When Grace caught up with her sister and asked her what was wrong, Connie had shrugged her away angrily.
"It's Michael," Lenny explained. "He's depressed. They're going through so much stress right now, honey, you mustn't take it personally."
But Grace did take it personally. Not four hours earlier, Honor had bitten her head off, too. All Grace did was ask if she wanted to come to the spa.
"Not everything in this life can be fixed by a fucking massage, Gracie, okay? Christ, is that your answer to everything? To spend more money pampering yourself?"
Grace was deeply hurt. She wasn't a materialistic person. Honor, of all people, should know that. In fairness, Honor had apologized afterward. "It's Jack. He's got so much on his mind lately, I think some of the stress is rubbing off on me." Grace forgave her and they made up. But still, a lingering anxiety remained. Perhaps she was imagining it, but it seemed to Grace that there was an almost palpable tension around the dinner table tonight.
They're all unhappy. Even Lenny. I want to make them happy, but I can't.
"The soup's ambrosial, Grace. Nice job." Mike Gray grinned at his sister-in-law.
"Thanks." She smiled back. He doesn't look depressed to me.
Maria Preston said snidely, "Indeed, your chef is to be congratulated. He must have worked like a slave all day to produce this feast."
Andrew Preston blushed. Not even Grace Brookstein was stupid enough to miss a blatant dig like that. He wished Maria would get a grip on herself, but after a few glasses of wine she was lethal. It was bad enough that she'd insisted on coming to dinner in a lavish Roberto Cavalli evening gown, slashed to the thigh and wildly inappropriate for the occasion.
"Maria, cara. Everyone else will be in jeans or simple sundresses. You look stunning, my angel, as always. But couldn't you..."
"No, Andy. I couldn't. I am not 'everyone else.' 'Aven't you learned this by now?"
Grace was too polite to rise to Maria's bait. Lenny had no such qualms.
"Our chef is a 'she' actually. Felicia." His tone was measured. "And she does work hard, though I'd hardly call her a slave. Last year I paid her considerably more than I paid your husband, Maria."
Andrew's blush deepened. Maria glared at him in silent fury.
Grace wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She hated confrontation. Lenny, on the other hand, had grown tired of walking on eggshells.
"Senator Warner," he said brightly. "You're awfully quiet this evening. What's the problem, Jack? Not in the party spirit?"
If looks could kill, Lenny Brookstein would have dropped dead at the table.
"Not really, Lenny, no. Unemployment rates in my constituency are about to reach ten percent. While we're sitting around your table, enjoying this fine food and wine, the people who voted for me are having their homes repossessed. They're losing their jobs, their health insurance, their hope. And they're relying on me to try to fix things for them. So, no, I'm not really in a party mood. If you'll excuse me."
Honor watched in horror as Jack got up from the table and left the room. He'd finally come clean about his gambling debts last night. As a result, Honor hadn't slept a wink. It was exhaustion that had made her lose her temper with Grace earlier, something she'd been kicking herself about all day. Not because she gave a damn about Grace's feelings. But because the entire purpose of this trip was to try to get closer to Grace so she could use her influence with Lenny to get him to help Jack.
Last night Jack had yelled at her. "I need Lenny Brookstein! Without that money, I'm finished, do you understand? We're finished."
Honor did understand. But now here was Jack, storming off like a spoiled child, embarrassing them both in front of everyone.
"I'd better go after him," she said meekly. "Sorry, Grace. Lenny."
The dinner party limped on. After the Warners' departure, everyone made an effort to be upbeat, but Jack and Honor's empty chairs were like two ghosts at the feast. John Merrivale made a toast, thanking Grace for the meal, but his stammer got so bad halfway through that Caroline had to finish it for him. Connie left before dessert, citing a headache. By the time the maid brought the coffee, the forced smiles of the remaining guests were beginning to look like lockjaw.
In bed with Lenny afterward, Grace broke down in tears.
"It was a disaster, wasn't it? Why does everything come back to the stupid economy? Connie and Michael losing their house, Jack stressed out about unemployment."
"I don't think that's all he's stressed about, sweetheart."
"Even Caroline and Maria were moaning at the hairdressers' about how much less John and Andrew are making this year. I hate it."
Lenny was furious. "Maria and Caroline were bitching to you? Are you kidding me? They're lucky their husbands still have jobs. The SEC is all over us like lice."
Grace gasped. "You're under investigation?"
"Don't worry, honey, it's nothing. A shit storm in a teacup. They're looking at all the big hedge funds right now. The point is, these are tough times, and Quorum's survived them because of me. Which means those ungrateful bitches' husbands have survived it because of me."
"Please, darling," Grace sobbed. "Don't get angry. I shouldn't have said anything. I can't take any more fighting tonight. Really, I can't take it."
Lenny took her in his arms.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've been a bit of a Grinch on this trip, haven't I?"
Grace nestled closer to his body. She always felt safe and happy pressed against him.
"I tell you what. Tomorrow morning, I'll get up early and take the boat out by myself. Sailing always clears my head. By the time I come home, I'll be so relaxed, you won't recognize me."
"Sounds good." Grace began drifting off to sleep.
Later, she would try to remember the exact words that Lenny had said next. It was so hard to untangle dream from reality. What she thought she heard was, "Whatever happens, Gracie, I love you." But maybe she dreamed it. All she knew for sure was that she'd fallen asleep that night happy.
For the last time.