Free Out by Laura Preble Page A

pleasantries exchanged, but listen for Carmen’s
voice above the others.
    “And this is my
brother, Chris,” Jana says, steering them toward me.
    Lainie , all zebra-print scarf and shocking blue pantsuit,
eyes me curiously. “You were at our meeting today, weren’t you?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” I
say, struggling not to squeak. I try not to look at Carmen, but it’s
impossible. Behind her gaze, detachment. Like nothing ever happened.
    “You must have
seen Carmen there, then.” She beams at the girl, who pastes an empty but
friendly expression on her face. “Carmen Wilde, Chris Bryant.”
      Carmen extends her hand, and I feel the air
go out of my lungs as if someone sucker punched me. I have to shake her hand…if
I don’t, it will look weird. But if I shake her hand, I might not let go. God.
    I cover the
panic with a racking cough, then wave at her. “Oh, sorry. Allergies. Nice to
meet you.”
    She lets her
hand fall to her side, purses her lips, and murmurs, “Sure. Nice to meet you,
too, Chris.” Do I imagine it or does she linger on my name just a second too
long?
    Lainie doesn’t notice. “I’m so excited to get to sit down
and talk with Jim McFarland. The west coast is ahead of us in so many ways, and
I’m sure he has some great ideas about the future of the church and the
Perpendicular League.”
    Warren sweeps
in and rescues me. “It wouldn’t be a dinner party without you, Lainie .” He offers her a glass of red wine, which she takes
with a huge smile.
    David trots
briskly down the stairs. “ Lainie !” he says as if
she's an old friend. He kisses her on both cheeks. “So glad you could be here.”
    She returns the
air kisses. “It was so good of you to include me, David.” What phonies. “And
this is Carmen Wilde, from California. Alexandra's daughter.”
    I almost choke
when David looks at her. I'm so afraid that she'll somehow tip off what we are,
but he barely looks at her.
    “Nice to meet
you,” he says dismissively before focusing on Lainie again. He doesn't see. How could he not see? I feel like I’ve turned bright
green with polks dots since this afternoon, like neon
rays of lust are shooting out of me toward Carmen. “Now, Lainie ,
let's talk about topics for tonight's dinner.” He takes her by the elbow and
steers her toward the parlor.
    Warren watches
them and then says, “Chris, could you help me set the table?”
    Lainie turns back toward us. “Carmen, could you run along
and help as well?”
    Carmen glances
at me as if we’ve both been sentenced to prison. “Sure,” she says softly before
looking away.
      My upper lip starts to sweat as we follow
Warren into the kitchen.
    “I don’t think
we’ve met,” Warren says, smiling at Carmen in that warm, charming way he has. “I’m
Warren.”
    “Carmen.” They
shake hands and she smiles nervously, a Cheshire cat keeping a damning secret. “I
love your house. So nice of you to have us over.”
    Warren’s on to
the roast, his head halfway in the huge oven. “You’re most welcome. Let’s get
those settings out, before this meat walks away by itself.”
    I wordlessly
show Carmen where the good china is kept, and we pull ivory-colored plates from
the shelf. We’re trying so hard to avoid each other that I drop a plate in a
shattering explosion of ceramic and gold leaf.
    “Good God,
Chris! Be careful!” Warren glares at me. “That cannot be replaced.”
    “It was my
fault,” Carmen blurts out.   “We reached
for the same plate at the same time. Can I offer to pay for it, Mr. Bryant?”
    He chuckles. “David
is Mr. Bryant. Call me Warren. And no, you can’t pay for it, but thank you for
offering.” He grabs a broom and dustpan and thrusts them into my hands. “Chris,
let’s try and get through dinner without further damage, okay?”   He has no idea what damage is possible. But I
won’t let him find out.
    After cleaning
up, I grab silver from the polished mahogany case and point toward the dining
room.