Free Sweet Karoline by Catherine Astolfo Page A

was a bonus to Karoline for a job well done.
    Luckily Daniel is not a trial lawyer. I can't imagine that a jury would side with his child-like demeanor. Not to mention his bullfrog voice, which is frightening the first time you hear it emerge from that small person. I like Daniel, though. He is intelligent, charming when he wants to be and he adored Karoline.
    When Parris, Vicki and Joseph arrived a few minutes later it was in a flurry of hostess gifts, wine, shoes, glasses and places at the table. Vicki, one of my bosses, is a tall commanding blond who appears mannish in her style and dress, but whose voice conjures up a stereotypical femininity that includes shopping and spas and pampering. Blessed with an aura that demands attention and oozes confidence, Vicki has industry heavy weights lining up at her door to sign a contract with her.
    Joseph, soft-spoken but genius in a conversation, brilliant at targeting a client's career in the right direction, is her perfect complement. They live together but have never officially married. Neither has any interest in progeny. Their company, Grace Productions, and each other fill their lives completely and utterly.
    Unless confronted by stress or an unscripted event, they are satisfied and enthusiastic. Any glitch in their plans can turn them both into melting chocolate, helpless, gooey and messy. Which is where I come in.
    Or used to.
    That evening, Parris was a vision of burnt orange and almost as hot. Reddish hair, matching blouse with flounce sleeves, flashing brown eyes, she was, despite being rather tall and large boned, stunning. Not shy, she jumped into every conversation with alacrity and defined opinion.
    Everyone talked all at once. The cacophony of voices muffled the tension that soon settled in over dinner. I was, Before-Italy and Before Parris-then-Glenn, completely oblivious to hidden agendas or underlying tensions. Karoline would always point them out to me. I was inevitably the last to know that so-and-so was having an affair or that such-and-such hated their business partner. I had no idea that Giulio was in love with his cousin or that his cousin was engaged. I could never have predicted that Giulio would remain in Italy, would leave us without good-bye, or would leave us at all.
    I realize now that I had reacted viscerally all my life. Through my senses, through what I saw, heard or smelled. No jumping to conclusions, no intuition. No feelings in the pit of my stomach. My approach always worked well with the film industry bunch because they live completely on the surface, shallow and predictable.
    That night, the fluttering in my chest and the squishy feeling in my belly were foreign to me. At first I didn't recognize the symptoms. I thought I was reacting to the rich meat sauce. Then I began to tune into Karoline, the tone of her voice, the choice of words, the topics, the way she lifted glass after glass of wine. I realized with a shock that the tremors were coming from the earthquake of Karoline, an upheaval that was about to rearrange the landscape of our relationship.
    " It's similar to Beverly Hills Cop."
    There had been a lull in the conversation between Daniel and Karoline. Vicki and I had taken a breath. Chewed our food. Left a hole in the noise. Thus Parris's voice, its lustrous timbre somehow earsplitting in the quiet dining room, echoed across the table.
    " Just what we need," Karoline said, "another vacuous movie about idiotic people. A great contribution to our national culture."
    We 'd had these debates in the past. The difference between film and movie, art and entertainment, literature and pulp fiction. But there was something vicious in Karoline's tone that made everyone stop dead still. Instead of taking part in the argument, the others were shocked into silence. Their faces reflected uncertainty about how to enter this new geography.
    Parris, because the dart had been aimed at her, continued innocently into a perceived discussion.
    " I think