Free Icing Ivy by Evan Marshall Page A

isn’t time to discuss your career during the retreat.”
    â€œThat’s not what you said at all,” Bertha whined. “You agreed we’d find time to talk in our ‘down moments.’”
    Giving up, Jane set down the manuscript on the coffee table. “All right, let’s talk about your career.”
    â€œHello, ladies.”
    Jennifer Castaneda swept into the room. She wore a snowy white fisherman’s knit sweater over black leggings. Jane reflected again on what a beauty this woman was, sleek and sinuous. She sat down beside Bertha and good-naturedly patted her knee. “I’m sorry about those things I said about your books.”
    Bertha looked amazed. “Why . . . thank you.”
    Would Bertha apologize back? Jane wondered. She doubted it.
    She was right. Bertha just sat there, an expectant look on her face. Jane knew she was wishing Jennifer would leave.
    But Jennifer crossed her legs and settled more comfortably on the sofa. “You’ve got to admit, though, that historical romances and contemporary romances are totally different.”
    Bertha drew in her breath to respond. Jane wasn’t going to give her that chance. “I’ve been admiring that beautiful sweater, Jennifer. You know, I’m a knitter.” When Jennifer looked surprised, Jane went on, “Mm-hm, I even belong to a knitting club. We call ourselves the Defarge Club. Cute, huh?”
    Both Jennifer and Bertha had completely blank expressions.
    â€œMadame Defarge was a character in A Tale of Two Cities .”
    Still the vacant looks.
    â€œSurely you’ve both heard of Charles Dickens.”
    â€œYes, of course,” Bertha said, and shifted impatiently.
    â€œAnyway,” Jane hurried on, “I’ve made sweaters not unlike that. They’re a lot of fun to do, all those cables and bobbles and things.”
    Jennifer gave Jane a wondering look. At that moment Tamara Henley entered the lounge from the stairs, passing through on her way to the conference room. “Hello,” she drawled.
    The three women smiled and returned the greeting, watching her pass through the room. The minute she was gone, Jennifer giggled and leaned closer to the two other women. “Speaking of clothes,” she whispered cattily, “did you get a load of what Mrs. Gotrocks has got on? The woman does not know how to dress.”
    â€œReally?” Bertha said. “What was she wearing? I didn’t notice.”
    â€œHow could you not notice?” Jennifer said. “That gray skirt and lavender top. Clash city.” She gave a little shrug. “I guess it just goes to show that money doesn’t guarantee good taste.”
    Jane didn’t like where this conversation was going. Sitting with these two was making her feel increasingly anxious. “Oh,” she said suddenly, “I just remembered I’ve got to call my nanny about something. You’ll both excuse me?”
    Bertha, looking positively betrayed, stared at Jane as she rose from her chair.
    Jennifer said, “Sure.”
    Jane hurried out of the lounge and up the stairs. She met Adam coming down.
    â€œHello, Jane. I’ve decided to throw another little party tonight. After that business with Johnny and the man with the gun, I figure everyone could use some special treatment.”
    â€œI think that’s an excellent idea.”
    â€œGood. Rhoda and I will be hosting it in the conference room after the group reading.”
    She told him she’d see him later and made it to her room, where she actually managed to finish reading the manuscript.

Chapter Nine
    A t dinner, Jane, sitting between William Ives and Daniel, glanced around the room, wondering where Ivy was. As if reading her thoughts, Daniel whispered, “Isn’t Ivy coming to dinner?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Jane replied, and at that moment Ivy appeared in the doorway.
    She looked like hell, as if she