Tequila? “I just brought a couple of bottles of wine,” Charity said, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Girls’ night out had sounded like fun, but she couldn’t afford to get really drunk. She had meetings in the morning.
“Wine is great,” Pia said, swaying slightly, then grabbing the door frame for support. “Maybe I’ll have some.”
A tall, pretty brunette appeared behind Pia and wrapped an arm around her waist. “You need to lie down, kid.”
“I’m fine,” Pia said. “Don’t I look fine to you? I feel fine.”
The woman smiled at Charity. “Don’t be frightened. Every now and then Pia feels the need to live up to the party image. It’s not a big deal.”
“I can respect that,” Charity said.
“Me, too. I’m Jo, your hostess for this month’s girls’ night. Come on in.”
“I’m Charity.”
“I figured that. We’re glad to have you.” Jo maneuvered Pia away from the door.
Charity followed the two of them into the house.
It was one of those great old places, with hardwood floors and plenty of built-ins. She suspected what had once been a lot of little rooms had been remodeled into several larger rooms. A fireplace large enough to hold an entire cow dominated the far wall. There were several sofas, comfy-looking chairs and a group of women looking at her curiously.
A thin blonde stood and reached for Pia. “You sit by me,” she said. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Just for tonight,” Pia said, slumping down on a sofa. “Tomorrow I take care of you.”
“Tomorrow you’ll be puking your guts out.” The woman smiled at Charity. “Hi. I’m Crystal.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Charity was introduced to the other women and did her best to remember their names. Renee/Michelle was there and Charity was surprised to learn her name was actually Desiree. When the introductions were finished, Jo led Charity into the kitchen.
“You can see what’s open, what’s in the blender and what you can create on your own.”
The kitchen had been partially updated. The counters and sink appeared new, but the stove was from the forties and the cabinets looked like they might have been original.
“Great place,” Charity said.
“I like it. I know it’s big for just me, but I enjoy the space.” She pointed to the array of bottles on the counter. “Wine, both colors, margaritas in the blender, unless Pia drank them all. Mixers, vodka, Bailey’s. You name it, we have it.”
“I’ll go with a glass of wine,” Charity said.
“Playing it safe on your first night. Probably wise. Pick a color.”
“White.”
Jo got a glass and poured. After she handed it to Charity, she leaned against the counter. “So you’re our new city planner. How are you liking Fool’s Gold?”
“I love it here. All my small-town fantasies are coming true.”
Jo laughed. “I moved here about three years ago. From the east coast. It was quite a change, but a good one. The people are friendly. Pia invited me to join her and her friends. They made me feel very welcome.”
Charity glanced toward the living room. “I appreciate the invitation. I want to get to know people.”
“You will.”
A pretty blonde walked into the kitchen and sighed. “I need more. Pia’s drunker than me and I was supposed to be the drunkest one at the party.” She smiled at Charity. “Hi, I’m Katie and please don’t think badly of me.”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t usually drink very much.”
“Or at all,” Jo muttered. “Speaking as someone who owns a bar, you’re a real disappointment in that department.”
“I know.” Katie leaned against the counter. “But tonight’s different. My sister’s getting married.”
Charity felt confused. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“The groom and I were dating when they met. For nearly a year. He’d bought me an engagement ring. But before he gave it to me, he met my sister and they kicked me to the curb.”
“Ouch,” Charity said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He was a jerk,” Katie told her.
Charity had a feeling that was the alcohol talking more than her heart.
“The worst part is that the wedding is a four-day party up at the Lodge,” Jo added.
“I need a date and I don’t have one.” Katie hiccupped softly.
“There’s always Josh,” Jo offered.
Katie rolled her eyes. “I need a date with a guy people will believe I’m actually seeing. There’s no one. And now my mother is offering to set me up with her best friend’s son. Howie.”
Charity tried to muffle a laugh. “Okay, it’s not a traditionally romantic name, but he could be great.”
“I met him back when we were kids. He’s a total nerd, and not in a good way. We hated each other, and I get to spend four days with him. Someone just shoot me now.”
“How about another margarita?” Jo asked.
“That works, too.” Katie looked at Charity. “Are you happily married or dating? Because I’ll warn you—in this crowd, you’d be the only one.”
“Sorry, no. I have a string of bad breakups, as well.”
“Bummer,” Katie mumbled. “What’s wrong with us?”
“Nothing,” Jo said firmly. “You don’t need a man to be happy.”
“Try telling that to my whoo-whoo. It hasn’t seen action in nearly a year.”
Now Charity did laugh. Fortunately Katie didn’t seem to notice.
“There’s Crystal,” she said. “At least she was happy before.”
Jo poured another drink. “Crystal’s husband was killed in Iraq.” She glanced toward the doorway, then lowered her voice. “She’s sick. Cancer. So she doesn’t drink. Just so you don’t offer her anything.”
Charity thought about Pia’s friend. “She looks fine.”
“Right now things are good. We’re hoping the treatment can kill the cancer without taking her, too.”“How awful. Does she have children?” Bad enough for them to lose their father, but now to be worried about their mother.
“Not exactly.”
Charity would have blamed her confusion on the wine, only she hadn’t yet taken a sip. “What do you mean?”
“They froze some embryos before her husband went off to Iraq. Just in case. She was planning to have them implanted, but the lymphoma was discovered during the routine physical. She wants to get better so she can have her babies.” Jo poured herself a glass of red. “Sometimes, life’s a bitch.”
Charity didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“We all are and there’s nothing any of us can do. That’s the worst part. Well, not for Crystal, obviously.” Jo shook her head. “I think I’ve had too much to drink. I don’t usually go on like this. Come on. Let’s get back to the girls.”
Charity followed Jo and Katie into the living room where she did her best not to stare at Crystal. Talk about sad.
“Are you enjoying Fool’s Gold?” one of the women asked.
“No one cares about that,” Desiree said with a laugh. “I want to know what she thinks of Josh.”
The room went silent as every pair of eyes focused on Charity. She froze, her glass of wine halfway to her lips.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re living at that hotel with him,” Desiree said with a laugh. “Tell us everything.”
Charity put down the wine. “I, ah, don’t live with him. I have a room at the hotel.” There was no way she was going to mention they were in rooms right next to each other. Talk about trouble. “I’ve met him a few times and he seems nice.”
“Have you gone out on a date?” one woman asked.
“No. Of course not.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Charity’s new to our evil ways. Don’t scare her off the first night. There hasn’t been much news on the Josh front lately, so they’re hungry for gossip about their favorite topic.”
“He’s a favorite topic?”
Nearly everyone laughed. Even Crystal chuckled.
“He’s gorgeous,” Desiree said with a sigh. “That face, that body.”
“That butt,” Pia muttered from the couch.
“She lives,” Jo said. “Hang in there, honey. It’ll get worse before it gets better, but you’ll survive.”
“There are other good-looking men in town,” Charity said.
“Maybe. But no one is like Josh,” Desiree told her. “It seems like he hasn’t had a real fling in a while.”
“There was that ski instructor,” Crystal said.
“That was last year. I can’t think of anyone.” Desiree looked hopefully at Charity. “Unless you want to confess something.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we’ve barely had any contact.” No way she was going to rat him out, she thought. This was a tough crowd. “Besides, I don’t think I’m his type.”
“If you’re female, you’re his type,” a woman across the room said.
Everyone laughed.
Not true, Charity thought, remembering the pain in Josh’s eyes. He’d been right—the town did have high expectations. A case could be made that they were completely unrealistic. No wonder he didn’t want to expose any weakness.
“She’s really not,” Pia said, pushing herself into a more stable seated position. “You could be, but you’re not.”
Charity didn’t know how to take that. “Meaning?”
“You dress, like, so plain. Those boxy dresses and jackets. I know you need to look professional for work, but dear God. Show a little skin.”
Crystal put her arm around Pia and whispered something in her ear. She smiled apologetically at Charity. “She’s not herself.”
Charity smiled back, but on the inside, she was squirming. What was wrong with her clothes? Of course she dressed conservatively. She was representing the town.
She told herself Pia was drunk and that her comments didn’t mean anything, but that didn’t stop Charity from blushing and wishing she could bolt for freedom. No one was looking at her, but the lack of attention was so pointed, it was as if everyone was staring at her.
Jo made a comment about a movie opening on Friday and conversation shifted. After a few minutes, Charity excused herself to use the restroom.
Once inside, she locked the door, then leaned against it, as if she had to catch her breath. After a moment, she walked toward the mirror and studied her reflection.
She could only see herself from the waist up. Although she’d gone back to the hotel before coming here, she hadn’t bothered to change, so she was still in the long-sleeved dress she’d worn all day.
The fabric was a cotton blend, in solid navy. A case could be made that it was a little too big, but she preferred her clothing loose. The jacket she’d worn with it was a tad boxy, but well-tailored.
As usual, she’d blown out her brown wavy hair until it was straight, then pulled it back into a braid. She wore small gold hoops, minimal makeup and a plain inexpensive watch. As she continued to study herself, she realized the best she could come up with was that she was clean.
“When did I start dressing like someone in her eighties?” she demanded, then realized she was doing seniors a disservice.
She sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her temples. After graduating from college, she’d found a great job in Seattle. She’d been the youngest person on the mayor’s staff and had found herself being dismissed whenever she made a suggestion. When she dressed older and went for a more conservative look, she’d been taken more seriously.
When she’d moved to Henderson, a suburb of Las Vegas, she’d continued to wear clothes more suited to someone a couple of decades older. That had worked for her. But somewhere along the way, she’d lost herself in the look. She’d stopped paying attention to herself. Maybe she’d stopped caring.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. Charity stood and smoothed the front of her dress.
She opened the door and was surprised to see Crystal standing there.
“I don’t mean to pry or anything,” the other woman said. “But are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Pia is actually really nice. I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by what she said.”
Charity stepped into the hallway and tried to smile. “I know. It’s the heartache and margaritas talking. Not that she wasn’t speaking the truth. I’m frumpy and I can’t figure out exactly how I let that happen. Or when!”
“They say acknowledging the problem is the first step in healing.” Crystal’s blue eyes danced with humor as she spoke. “You’re really pretty. You just need to play up your assets.”
“I need a new wardrobe.” She brushed the front of her dress again, feeling self-conscious about the old-fashioned fit.
“Easily done. That’s why we all have credit cards.”
“I’ve been letting mine get dusty for far too long.”
“Then you should go shopping this weekend.”
“Believe me, I will.”
“Good for you,” Crystal told her. “Retail therapy is the best kind.”