CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It was raining when Heather pulled up in front of Chloe’s house in Cambridge at five minutes to one the next afternoon.
She sat in the new, sporty white Lexus her parents had given her for her recent promotion, repeatedly glancing at her image in the rearview mirror and praying the rain would stop. The rain, combined with the heat, would spell disaster for her hair, hair she’d spent nearly an hour blow-drying and straightening this morning, which had made her late for work. “Nice of you to honor us with your presence,” Kendall had said in greeting.
“Fuck off,” Heather had mumbled underneath her breath, wondering when Kendall had turned into such a cunt.
“Your hair looks very nice, by the way,” Kendall said.
So maybe not such a cunt after all, Heather thought, checking her reflection in the small, round mirror she kept in the top right-hand drawer of her desk. Pleased with what she saw.
Luckily, Marsha Buchanan was out of the office in meetings all day, so there was no one else around to complain about the lateness of her arrival or question her commitment to her job. It had been mercifully easy to slip away early to meet Chloe for lunch. With any luck, she’d be back at work before anyone could take note of how long she’d been gone.
Of course, she hadn’t counted on the sudden downpour that had resulted in a multitude of traffic delays. Did no one in Boston know how to drive in the rain? It wasn’t as if it was a rare event, Heather thought, hoping the downpour would stop as suddenly as it had started and she could just sit tight and wait it out. But after almost ten minutes spent checking her hair and touching up her makeup, the rain seemed to be getting worse, and she couldn’t very well sit here all afternoon. You’d think Chloe would glance out her front window and understand her predicament, spare her the inconvenience of having to get out of the car to ring the doorbell. It wasn’t like this was adate.
Heather debated honking her horn, then decided that would be rude. It might not be a date, but it had been her idea. Not only her idea, but her treat.What the hell,she decided, blasting her horn three times in rapid succession. If she was going to pay for the damn meal, then Chloe could damn well make her way to the car, unescorted.
The front door opened almost immediately and Chloe appeared. She was wearing sneakers, baggy jeans, and a sloppy blue T-shirt, her blond hair pulled into a loose ponytail. She didn’t exactly get dolled up for the occasion, Heather thought, feeling vaguely insulted and definitely overdressed in her ruffled orange cotton blouse and black leather skirt, just like the skirt Gwyneth Paltrow had worn to a recent event.
Chloe hurried down the front steps, shaking the rain from her shoulders as she opened the car door and slid into the beige leather seat beside Heather. She wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup. Not a hint of blush, not a stroke of mascara, not a dab of lipstick. And yet, there was no denying how beautiful she was. Heather felt instantly dowdy.
“Well,” Chloe said in lieu of hello. “You going to tell me what this is all about?”
“Hello to you, too,” Heather said.
“I think we can forgo the pleasantries, don’t you?” Chloe said. “What are you up to, Heather?”
“What am I up to?” Heather repeated, trying to figure out what was happening. “I thought I was buying you lunch.”
“Yeah, well,I’mnot buying the innocent act. So, suppose I spare you the expense and you spare me the aggravation, and you just tell me what you’re after.”
For a moment, Heather was speechless. While she’d been anticipating a certain amount of resistance from Chloe, she hadn’t counted on outright hostility. “Wow. I didn’t realize you had such a poor opinion of me.”
“Really? You’re surprised?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“You slept with my best friend’s fiancé.”
“Well, technically, they weren’t engaged.”
“They were living together,” Chloe reminded her.
“And now he’s living with me.” Heather brought her hands together in her lap and tried not to squirm. This was not going according to plan. “I didn’t exactly twist his arm, you know.”
“Yes, I’m sure you were quite blameless.”
Heather turned slowly toward the other woman. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me why you called this little meeting.”
“I honestly just wanted to touch base.”
“You wanted to touch base,” Chloe repeated.
“Yes. This might surprise you, but I don’t have a lot of friends…”
“It doesn’t surprise me.”