Between the Tides by Susannah Marren

Author:Susannah Marren
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466874626
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

PART EIGHT

Jess

TWENTY-THREE

I am perpetually flattered to be pegged “the hostess with the mostest.” Thanksgiving happens to be the pièce de résistance for my talents, a Hollywood set, my favorite time of year. Although some believe it’s early in the season, our beautifully adorned Christmas tree is trimmed the night before. I remain the one to kick off the season with a tree that rivals living theater. I’ve been told that the tree reminds guests of the Christmas tree that grows to a giant beanstalk onstage at the Nutcracker ballet—while the children dance around it. My guests dance around me today.

As people arrive, I greet them in a new print wool Dolce dress and Louboutin boots. Deline, who has colored and blown out my hair the past three years, has finessed streaks of blond sculpted into waves that fall across my shoulders. I’m wearing William’s grandmother’s drop tourmaline earrings and several strands of Van Cleef clover around my neck. The other women today are, naturally, my followers. Except for Lainie, who is not only ultraplain but dreary. How difficult could it be for her to buy a few proper dresses, to radiate a little style? She knows better, we know that. Poor Charles, who appears not to be perturbed, but seems happy as a clam. He’s loosened his tie and is drinking Jack Daniel’s, entrenched with the other men sitting deep in the leather chairs in the den. They root for the football teams, jumping up and shouting in a surprisingly high pitch. Charles is well situated between William and the head of neurosurgery. Twice now William has clapped Charles on the back.

In the formal living room, where the women and children have congregated, Lainie is acting okay—on her own raft until the day is over. I instruct the thirteen children to go to the playroom. It is no coincidence that among the most savage of boys is Jack, trumped only by Seth, a seven-year-old monster who bites everyone. Then who can blame Matilde, Lainie’s protégée, for shying away from two girls who are in her class. I myself overhear Sidney Darvis and Aimee Sax in their blatant rudeness.

“She’d be pretty if she didn’t wear such … dorky clothes,” Sidney says.

Aimee rolls her green eyes and yanks on her script necklace as she assesses Matilde. “Very dorky in every way,” she says.

“Matilde.” I practically drag her away from her perch half behind the living room door, where she hears every word without being noticed. We face the entrance. “Take no heed of what they say. They are nice girls.… Their mothers, one is sitting beside your mother … are very nice.… You know, I think that one of the fathers was a patient of your father’s. Your father is his hero, he made him as good as new. These girls would love to be your friend.”

“Love to be my friend?”

“Be all you can be, Matilde,” I say. “I’m sure that your mother would agree.”

“Why? Why, Jess?” Matilde asks.

“I know you’re thinking that I can’t remember seventh grade.

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