Circle of Grace, page 29
She opened her eyes and stared up at the cavernous ceiling that arched overhead. The sun was moving higher, and a bright slanting beam came in through a skylight set in the rock. A fragmentary image shot through her mind—a darkened cave, a dewy spring morning, a stone rolled away to let in light and air and the fragrance of lilies.
Grace hadn’t yet decided how or when to tell them about the tumor that was eating away at her life. Sunday, she thought. Perhaps they’d take a drive up the Parkway, have a picnic. That would offer the opportunity to talk without a lot of other people around. And since they were leaving Monday afternoon, it would also give them time to digest the news without throwing a shroud over the entire weekend.
Her shoulders tightened with anticipatory stress, but she forced herself to let go again, to take in the quietness, the soft music, the caress of water on her limbs. Yes. Sunday. For now she should just give in to the pleasure of the moment.
Out of instinct, Lovey glanced down at her bare wrist. Her watch was in the locker upstairs, but the rumbling of her stomach told her it was close to one o’clock. The four of them, wrapped in lush spa robes, were sitting around a table on the patio, sipping fruit drinks and admiring the beauty of the Blue Ridge in the distance.
A young woman in khakis and a green polo shirt bearing the Grove Park’s lantern logo approached them and presented them with menus. “Ladies, would you care to have lunch brought to you here on the terrace?” she asked in a silky voice.
“How utterly delectable,” Tess said languorously, raising her drink in a salute.
Loose-limbed and lethargic from the heavenly fifty-minute massage, Lovey had a bit of trouble focusing on the menu. “What are y’all having?” she asked.
“Didn’t take long for your southern accent to resurrect,” Liz chuckled. “She’s spent thirty years in Minnesota, but two days back in North Carolina and she’s saying y’all.”
“Y’all is a perfectly logical second person plural,” Tess quipped. She turned to the server. “How are the croissant sandwiches?”
“Excellent,” the girl said. “Big enough to split.”
She looked around for confirmation. “Shall we do that, then?”
The others nodded, and Tess ordered one roast beef and Swiss croissant and one turkey, ham, and cheddar.
“With onion on the side,” Lovey added. “For the roast beef.”
“Aw, jeez,” Liz complained. “I’d forgotten how much you love those stinkers. And I have to share a room with Miss Onion Breath.” She made a face.
“Give it a rest. You’re not going to be kissing me.” Lovey arched her eyebrows. “Are you?”
“Not a chance.” The waitress grinned and walked away, and Liz let her eyes roam around the circle. “OK, who’s going to ask?”
“Ask what?” Lovey said innocently.
“Never mind the dumb-blonde-cheerleader routine. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“She’s talking about Serena,” Tess said. “She’s amazing, Liz. You don’t have to be a Mensa genius to understand why the two of you get along so well. But now that you mention it, why haven’t you told us about her before?”
“I’m afraid there’s quite a bit I haven’t told you,” Liz said. “Maybe I’d better start at the beginning.”
It was a story Lovey was all too familiar with. Liz had fallen in love with Tim instantly, had thought they were perfect for each other. The cynic surrounded by her thick plates of armor had, at last, allowed herself to strip off her protections and be vulnerable. But vulnerability had cost her. She had trusted him, supported him, defended him. And he had turned out to be not the man she believed him to be.
“You mean he actually did embezzle money from the organizations he was supposed to be supervising?”
“I’m afraid so.” Liz nodded. “And once I found out, he threatened me if I exposed him.”
“Threatened you with what?” Tess frowned.
“He said he’d ruin the clinic Serena and I had worked so hard to build. He had a lot of clout, and it was not beyond his power to have our loans called in.”
“That’s blackmail!” Tess’s voice was horror-struck.
“Yes. Well, the truth came out anyway, and he was found guilty and sentenced to seven years in a minimum-security facility.”
“He’s in prison?” Lovey shuddered. Her own situation with Bo was beginning to look better all the time.
“Was,” Liz corrected. “He got out in four. Last I heard, he had moved out to L.A. and was pretty much living on the streets.” She smiled grimly. “I can only hope they have good nonprofit services out there.”
“Whew,” said Tess. “Talk about poetic justice.”
“By the time the trial was over and the divorce was final, Serena and I had known each other for six years or so,” Liz went on. “We were best friends as well as partners in the clinic. I had—” She paused. “A meltdown. I thought I had finished dealing with my mother’s abandonment, but this experience with Tim exhumed everything I’d buried. All the emotional stuff I had been holding at bay came crashing in on me. Serena was the one who kept my head above water and helped me find a way to heal.”
She told about Serena moving into the arts-and-crafts bungalow she had once shared with Tim, how Serena’s positive influence had taught her to play, to have fun, to let go of the past, to accept herself without the need to erect walls around her heart. By the time the story wound to a close, their croissants had arrived and they were halfway through lunch.
“Why didn’t you tell us all this?” Tess stared at her. “Surely you knew we’d understand.”
Liz shook her head. “Forgive me for being blunt, but I knew nothing of the sort. You were my best friends back in college, but even in those days, with the three of you, I was wary of emotional intimacy. Besides, this situation was extremely difficult to explain. I felt shamed—humiliated by what a lousy judge of character I had turned out to be. It took nearly a year of therapy to regain confidence in my instincts about people.”
Lovey reached out and squeezed her hand. “But you were not to blame for what your husband did.”
“I know. I tell it to my clients all the time. Still, I beat myself up for months. I felt as if I should have seen it coming. And I certainly didn’t know how to be honest with you about my emotional struggles. I was always the self-sufficient one, remember? The one with the impenetrable armor.” She gazed around the circle, taking in each face.
This was a different Liz, Lovey thought. Not guarded, with her shields up, but open and unfortified and accessible. Somehow the pain she had endured had both softened and empowered her.
“But I have to tell you,” Liz admitted, “I don’t think I would have made it without Serena. So, does that make me weak?”
Lovey smiled. “Looks to me like it’s made you strong,” she said. “Strong and happy and blessed.”
After lunch they spent another hour or two moving systematically back and forth from the mineral pool to the waterfall hot tubs. Liz went off by herself for a bit to swim laps, and while she was gone, the others discussed her revelation in hushed tones.
“She’s had so much pain,” Grace said. “I’m amazed at how together she seems.”
“It’s obvious she’s done a lot of emotional work over the years,” Tess mused. “And I for one am absolutely thrilled for her.”
Liz returned from her laps grinning and exhilarated. She sat down on the edge of the mineral pool and ran a hand through her hair. “So, you’ve been talking about me since I was gone, I assume.”
“You assume correctly,” Tess answered with a laugh. “The consensus is, we all think you’re incredibly vital, whole, and fulfilled. And we couldn’t be happier for you.”
A little before six-thirty Grace stuck her head into Liz and Lovey’s room. “About ready?” she asked. “We have buffet reservations in ten minutes.”
At thirty bucks a pop, the Saturday-night prime-rib buffet wasn’t exactly economical, but compared to the prices at the Sunset Terrace, it would be a bargain, especially since everything, including nonalcoholic drinks and dessert, was included. Quit obsessing about money, Grace silently reprimanded herself. After all, Lovey paid for last night’s dinner.
After a full day at the spa and a brief nap, everyone was relaxed and comfortable. On the way down to the Great Hall, they chatted easily about the marvelous accommodations at the Grove Park and the award-winning spa services. When the elevator stopped and they emerged from the back of the huge stone fireplace, Liz put a hand on Grace’s arm. “I just want to thank you for this weekend,” she said. “It’s a gift.”
“Yes, it is,” Lovey agreed, linking an arm through Grace’s as they walked. “But it doesn’t seem right that you should pay for everything. We could all kick in and split the cost.” She craned her neck around at Liz and Tess, now a step or two behind them. “Couldn’t we?”
“Of course,” the other two said immediately. “We ought to help pay our way.”
Grace’s eyes stung, and her throat clogged up. Because she had never told them even the slightest inkling of the truth about her dismal, miserable life, they hadn’t the faintest idea how little she could afford this weekend. Lovey was rich—incomprehensibly wealthy, compared to Grace’s standard of living. Tess was certainly comfortable, if not well off. Liz owned half interest in a thriving counseling practice. Any one of them could have paid for this reunion without a second thought.
But Grace had made up her mind long before any of them had arrived in Asheville. This was her legacy, her final bequest—to them, and to herself. A tribute to the memory of a friendship that had endured.
“No,” she said at last. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s all taken care of. Consider it my—my swan song.”
Lovey jerked her head around and shot a glance over her shoulder at Liz and Tess. But if any of them considered this a curious thing to say, no one mentioned it.
At the doorway of the banquet hall, Grace gave her name to the headwaiter, and he led them to a secluded table in the corner, sandwiched between a potted ficus tree and a burbling terra cotta fountain.
The waiter seated each of them in turn, then circled the table, opening stiff linen napkins with a snap and placing one on each woman’s lap. “Tonight’s specialty is prime rib,” he informed them. “The table on the left”—he waved an elegant hand—“offers a variety of soups, salads, cheeses, and assorted cold foods, including pastas and shrimp cocktail. I especially recommend the she-crab soup. At the table on the right are our excellent desserts—”
“Including Oreo cheesecake?” Lovey inquired.
“Indeed, madam. And a wide array of other delicious choices as well. All created fresh by our pastry chef.” He gave a deferential nod. “At the large center table you will find our signature prime rib, hand carved to your liking, along with other meats and vegetables. The summer squash soufflé is one of my personal favorites. In addition to the prime rib, this evening’s selections also include a marvelous crisped duckling with orange sauce, crab-stuffed trout—fresh, of course—grilled chicken and creamed spinach casserole, and shrimp remoulade.” Finished with his recitation, he gazed placidly around the table. “What else do you ladies require? Wine? Coffee or tea, perhaps?”
They ordered iced tea all around. “Very good. I will return momentarily with your tea. Feel free to help yourselves whenever you are ready.”
Lovey took a sip of water and eyed the fountain in the corner. “These folks sure do like running water,” she commented.
“It’s a soothing sound,” said Tess. “I feel like I’m back at the spa again. Makes me think about getting a small rock fountain for my study.”
“Makes me think about needing to pee,” Lovey said.
Liz poked her in the arm. “You are so classy.”
Everyone laughed, and Lovey shrugged. “You can take the girl out of Georgia—”
“But you can never take Georgia out of the girl,” the others chorused in unison.
“Well,” Liz said, placing her napkin on the table, “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m ready to eat.”
They all rose and threaded their way through the surrounding tables to the serving area. The largest of the buffet tables was graced with a glistening ice sculpture in the form of a swan with its wings spread wide. On every exposed space of the white tablecloths, strands of ivy interlaced with fresh flowers. The center of the salad table bore a small mountain of large shelled shrimp, surrounded by a wide moat filled with shaved ice and crab claws.
“I could make out my dinner right here,” said Tess as she pushed aside a portion of spring salad to make room for crab and shrimp. “I love seafood.”
“Me too,” Liz said. “I definitely have to try the she-crab soup.”
The four of them returned to their table carrying two salad plates each. “There’s only one problem,” Lovey said as she picked up a pair of seafood pliers and attacked a crab leg. “After all this and prime rib too, who’s going to have room for dessert?”
Liz bit off half of a large shrimp. “Is this a big issue? Someone last night—I forget who—said she was too full for dessert, until the subject of Oreo cheesecake came up.” She grinned at Lovey. “Come on, babe. You can do it. We believe in you.”
She turned in Grace’s direction. “Did you get any of this soup? It’s delicious. Have a taste, if you like.”
Grace took a spoon and dipped it into Liz’s bowl. The soup was a deep rust color, thick with shreds of crabmeat. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted—rich and savory, with just a hint of sweetness. “Mmm,” she said. “They’re going to serve this in heaven. I’ll need to get my own bowl, or I’ll eat all of yours.”
Lovey leaned across the table and peered into Liz’s soup. “Why do they call it she-crab soup?” she asked. “Does that mean it’s only made with the female of the species?”
“Exactly,” Liz said with mock seriousness. “You see, she-crabs are much sweeter than he-crabs. He-crabs are too…crabby.”
Lovey appeared to consider this for a minute, then heard suppressed giggles all around the table and looked up. “Why does everybody always make fun of me?”
“Because you’re such a perfect target!” Liz exploded with laughter. “You’re so…so innocent.”
“Naive, you mean.” She tried to pretend she was in a snit, but she couldn’t keep it up for long. Finally she joined in the laughter and gave a self-deprecating shrug. “But you’re right, Liz, even if you were pulling my leg. She-crabs are sweeter.” She gazed around the table. “It’s great, the four of us together again, just us girls.”
Tess grimaced. “Lovey, we haven’t been girls for ages.”
“Maybe not,” she responded. “But being with all of you makes me feel young and alive. As if the past thirty years with Bo never happened.”
An eerie silence descended over the table. Grace cut a glance at Liz and saw her raise an eyebrow in Tess’s direction. Lovey stared at her plate and fiddled with a shrimp.
“Lovey,” Liz said after a moment, “is there something you want to tell us?”
She bit her lip and shifted her head, avoiding Liz’s gaze. When she turned back, she had adopted a wide, false smile. “Who’s for prime rib?” she said brightly, getting up from the table so fast she nearly knocked her water glass over. “I’m going to try that soufflé—I love squash. The duckling, too, and maybe some of the crab-stuffed trout.” The smile persisted, but Grace could see that the light didn’t reach her eyes. “By the time this meal is over, I’ll probably turn into a she-crab.”
They all followed Lovey to the entree table, and when she returned with a juicy slice of rare prime rib heaped with horseradish, Liz made a lame attempt at a joke. “First the onions at lunch, and now horseradish? Lovey, you’re going to drive me out of the room.”
Lovey laughed—a little too loudly, a little too long—and the others gamely tried to share the humor. For the remainder of the evening, all of them tried to pretend that nothing had happened. But the talk mostly centered on the food—how crispy the duck was, how impossible to decide among all the dessert options. The easy banter and comfortable conversation had vanished.
When the dinner ordeal had finally come to an end, they walked in silence down the corridor back to the Great Hall. Just as Grace stepped behind the fireplace and punched the button to call the elevator, the desk manager came scurrying over to her, holding out a small envelope.
“Pardon me, Ms. Benedict,” he said, his eyes darting to the other women. “I am so very sorry. A message came this afternoon, you see, but in the shift change it did not get delivered in a timely manner, and now—”
Grace took the envelope. It was heavy stock with the Grove Park logo in raised ink in the upper-left-hand corner. Across the front were printed the words MRS. AMANDA TENNYSON.
“Lovey?” Grace said. “It’s for you.”
The manager wheeled. “You are Mrs. Tennyson? Please, I beg your forgiveness for the delay. Such inefficiency is inexcusable.”
“It’s fine,” Lovey said dully. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But you must understand that this is not the Grove Park way. We pride ourselves on offering the finest service to our guests. May I offer my apologies in a more tangible manner? A complimentary bottle of champagne sent up to your suite, perhaps?”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Take the champagne,” Liz hissed.
“Whatever,” Lovey muttered, and entered the elevator before the door had fully opened.
The champagne, artfully arranged in a silver bucket, arrived less than five minutes after the door to the suite had closed behind them. The porter waved off the tip Grace held out to him and bowed out of the room.
“All right, let’s all sit down.” Liz sank down on the sofa and kicked off her shoes. “Lovey, park yourself and talk to us. This silence isn’t getting us anywhere. Clearly something’s wrong.”
Lovey seemed to be considering Liz’s words. She dropped the unopened envelope onto the coffee table and sank into a wing chair. “He’s found me,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. “I had hoped to have this weekend—just these few days. But he’s found me, and now there’ll be hell to pay.”
