“Thank you, dear,” Paula said.
“Where’s Wheaton?” Isabelle said, looking around.
“He dropped me off,” Selden said. “He had to go back to the house. He forgot his bathing suit . . .”
“Typical,” Isabelle said, with a laugh.
“I’m dying for a swim,” Selden said. “Anyone want to come?”
“Go on, Janey . . . ,” Paula said.
“I don’t like . . .”
“The water’s warm,” Richard said. “Almost
too
warm . . .” Selden held out his hand. “Come on, babe,” he said.
Janey had no choice. She let him take her hand and pull her to her feet. They started down the sand toward the water. “I really don’t want to go in,” Janey said, with some irritation. “The waves are too big . . .”
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He pulled her down to the water’s edge. A wave crashed over her feet and she jumped back. “It’s too cold!” she cried.
“It is not,” he said. He waded in up to his knees and a wave crashed over his chest. “Come on!” he cried. He jumped out of the water, sputtering. “It’s perfect . . . ,” he said.
“Selden!” Paula shouted. Janey turned around; Paula was waving frantically.
Selden saw her and pushed through the water like a bull, brushing past Janey in his haste to get to his mother. “What’s the problem?”
“Something’s happened,” Wheaton said. He was standing by the towels. “I think you and Janey had better go back to the house . . .”
“What
is
it?” Selden asked, picking up the towel and drying his face.
“Something with Janey’s sister . . .”
“Patty?” Janey screamed, running up the beach toward them.
“Take it easy,” Selden snapped. “What’s happened? Is she all right?”
“I couldn’t really tell. A guy named Digger called . . .”
“That’s Janey’s brother-in-law . . .”
“He said to tell you to call him and that Patty was in jail.”
“Oh my God,” Paula said, clutching her heart.
“I’ll take care of it, Mother,” Selden said sharply, pulling his shirt over his head.
“We’d better all go back to the house,” Paula said, gathering her things.
“You stay here,” Selden commanded. “There’s no reason to let this ruin
your
day . . . Come on,” he said, motioning for Wheaton and Janey to follow him.
He raced up the dirt track. Janey followed him, stumbling over the little stones—in her haste she’d forgotten her shoes. Selden jumped into the front seat of the Jeep and Janey got in next to him. “Did he leave a phone number?” Selden demanded of Wheaton, who was in the back.
“No,” Wheaton said. “I assumed you knew where to find him.”
“Goddammit, Wheaton,” Selden said, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. “Where are they staying?” he asked Janey.
“I’m not sure . . . ,” Janey faltered. “The Four Seasons . . . The Ritz?”
“It’s got to be the Ritz-Carlton,” Selden said. “There isn’t a Four Seasons in Aspen . . .”
Selden raced the Jeep up the driveway to the villa, scattering small stones in every direction. At the top of the driveway he stopped the Jeep with a jerk and ran into the house.
He’s loving this,
Janey thought in horror.
He’s loving every
minute
. . .
By the time she got into the house, Selden was already on the phone, talking to Digger. “Let me speak to him,” Janey said, holding out her hand. He shook his head and waved her away.
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“It’s my sister!” she hissed.
Selden gave her a dirty look to keep her at bay. “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he said, nodding. “I see. And did you get the name of the jail . . . Okay . . . And they took them both away. No, they’re not going to let you see her . . . You need a lawyer . . .
Don’t worry about it. Just stay by the phone. I’m going to make a few phone calls and I’ll call you back.” He hung up the phone.
“What is it?” Janey cried.
He looked at her and sat down in a chair. “Okay, here’s what happened, as far as I can tell. Patty and Digger were in the supermarket in the checkout line. Apparently Marielle Dubrosey found out they were going to Aspen and followed them there. She came up behind Patty . . .”
“In the
supermarket
. . . ?”
“In the supermarket,” Selden nodded. “And she said something to Patty and Patty turned around and slapped her.”
“Well, good for Patty,” Janey said.
“Good for Patty, except that Marielle punched her in the stomach. And then Patty supposedly shoved her, and Marielle fell down. And then the police came and took them both to jail.”
“It’s going to be in all the papers,” Janey said angrily.
“Yes, it probably will be,” Selden said. “But right now, the most important thing is to get Patty out of jail.”
“We’d better go back to New York,” Janey said.
“There’s nothing we can
do
in New York,” Selden said.
“Well, there’s nothing we can
do
here either,” Janey snapped.
Selden held up his hands as if to ward her off. “Just let me take care of it, okay?” he said. “I’m going to call Jerry Grabaw.”
“The PR man?” Janey scoffed. “It’s
Christmas Day
. . .”
“That won’t bother Jerry,” Selden said. “He loves this kind of stuff.” Selden finally got off the phone three hours later. In the meantime, the rest of the party had returned from the beach and had demanded an explanation. There was no way to make sense of the situation without relating the whole sordid story from the beginning, and while Janey talked, Paula Rose kept glancing over at her husband, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. At last Janey escaped to her room, where she lay on the bed, furiously biting her nails.
“Well, that’s it for the moment,” Selden said, coming into the room and flopping down on the bed next to her. He passed his hand over his eyes. “Jerry found someone who knows the judge and managed to get him to go to the courthouse so Patty could be bailed out. She’ll have to appear at a hearing in a month, unless he 18947_ch01.qxd 4/14/03 11:24 PM Page 245
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can get them to drop the charges, which they probably will, considering it’s Aspen and they’re celebrities, and these kinds of things happen all the time . . .”
“That’s nice,” Janey said, coldly. She was pleased that Selden had been able to fix the problem, but annoyed at the way he had simply taken over without consulting her. After all, Patty was
her
sister, and Selden hadn’t even let her talk to Digger . . . It was just like the Connecticut house—and this vacation—she thought angrily, the way he had gone ahead and made decisions without bothering to consult her . . .
“Damn,” Selden said, sitting up. “I’d better go tell my mother. This kind of stuff makes her nervous . . .”
“Yes, you’d better do that,” Janey agreed.
Selden got up and went into the bedroom next door. “Mother,” Janey heard him say.
“Oh, Selden,” she heard Paula answer.
“Don’t worry. It’s all taken care of,” Selden said.
Janey got up, and tiptoed to the wall. The walls were so thin, she realized she could hear every word of their conversation as clearly as if they were in the same room.
“I’m not happy about this,” Paula Rose said.
“It’ll blow over,” Selden said. “You have to realize that Digger is a rock star . . .”
“Exactly,” Paula said. “Everybody knows that rock stars take drugs. And God knows what else . . .”
“Digger is actually a perfectly nice guy from Des Moines,” Selden said reassuringly.
“But what about the sister?”
“She’s a lovely girl,” Selden said.
There was a pause, and then Selden said, “Mother, what’s really bothering you?”
“I don’t want to rain on your parade, darling,” she began, “but this marriage you’ve entered into . . .”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Janey is probably a perfectly nice girl. But both she and her sister seem to have problems. The sister’s in jail . . . And did you know that Janey hasn’t talked to her mother in months? I’m only concerned about your welfare, darling. I don’t want to see you hurt again . . .”
“Oh, Mother . . . ,” Selden laughed. “You’re being hysterical.”
“I’m not,” Paula protested. “And this modeling business. I’m just not sure that it’s a proper job for your . . . wife. Girls like that want other things . . .”
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ever—maybe another year at most. And then, chances are you’ll have a grandchild . . .”
“But Selden, darling, I don’t think that’s what Janey wants. I have the feeling she’s interested in a different kind of lifestyle . . .”
“Mother, she wants to settle down and have children,” Selden said insistently.
“Look at you. What woman wouldn’t want to be like you?”
“That’s very flattering, darling. But all afternoon she kept talking about this producing idea . . .”
“Oh, Mother,” Selden said dismissively. “That’s just talk. Janey gets these little ideas in her head and the next minute, they’re gone. I promise you by next week she’ll have forgotten
all
about it.”
“I just hope you’re right,” Paula said ominously.
And on the other side of the wall, where Janey stood eavesdropping, her mouth opened in horror and she slid to the floor, clapping her hand over her mouth in shock. Selden suddenly appeared in the doorway and glanced around the room, looking for her. Spotting her on the floor, he said, “Darling, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” Janey said quickly, scrambling around on her hands and knees. “I just lost an earring, that’s all.” She stood up, fiddling with her earlobe.
“I’m sorry,” Selden said. “I don’t think I’ve been very nice to you today. I’m in desperate need of a drink . . . What do you say we go to that local bar you were talking about? Maybe meet some interesting people . . .”
“Sure,” she said sarcastically, the conversation with his mother still ringing in her ears. “But what about the car? We don’t want to leave the rest of the family stranded . . .”
“They’ll just have to get along without it for a couple of hours,” Selden said with a grin. “After all, it
is
my car . . . I’m paying for it, remember?” The rest of the holiday dragged on with interminable dullness. Janey made as much of an effort as possible to be pleasant: Now that she had hard evidence that Paula didn’t like her, she was determined not to give her the satisfaction of being proved right. But that didn’t mean she had to make it easy for Paula, and starting the evening after Christmas Day, she enticed Wheaton and Richard into a game of poker—and once they’d agreed, naturally Selden had to play as well. Paula didn’t like it, but the boys shooed her away—as Janey suspected, once they got into the game, there was no stopping them. Paula fumed, while Janey cleverly took every third hand. They were only playing with change, but Janey beat them all three nights in a row, sweeping piles of pennies into her handbag afterward, and that made her feel a little better . . .
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conversation she’d overheard with his mother, and a little more salt was added to the wound. She would show him, she thought; she would make him eat his words.
And then he’d be sorry . . .
They left for New York on December 31, arriving back at the hotel suite at just past nine o’clock. The flights had been packed and there were delays in Miami; all Janey wanted to do was sleep, as if sleep might erase the memory of the last awful week. But Selden wouldn’t hear of it—it was New Year’s Eve. The fire was laid with birch logs and he lit it, and then ordered up two bottles of Cristal Champagne with four ounces of beluga caviar from room service.
“I’m not really in the mood for champagne,” she said irritated, thinking that, once again, Selden was doing what he wanted, with no regard for her feelings.
“You’ve got to drink champagne on New Year’s Eve,” he insisted. “It’s bad luck not to.”
He pulled her down onto the couch next to him and stretched contentedly, while Janey sat stiffly by his side. “I can’t think of a better way to spend New Year’s Eve than a romantic evening at home,” he said.
Janey said nothing, glaring at the fire. She’d never understood the concept of the “romantic evening at home”; if she
had
to be home, she’d rather be watching TV
and eating take-out food in bed rather than trying to summon up some fake feeling of romance . . .
“I’ve got a great idea,” Selden said eagerly. “Let’s drive out to Connecticut tomorrow and I’ll show you the land. We’ll make a day of it—we’ll have brunch on the water somewhere, and then we’ll visit the land . . . And maybe afterward, we can stop by the Macadus’ . . .”
This, Janey thought, was the last straw. She stood up and walked to the writing desk and, turning around, she said coldly, “We really need to talk about that land, Selden.”
“It’s a great piece of property,” he protested. “It’s right on the water . . . You can’t find land like that today . . .”
“I think you might as well sell it,” she said firmly, narrowing her eyes.
“What are you talking about?” he said, beginning to get irritated. “I just bought it. I’m not going to turn around and sell it.”
“Well, I’m not going to have time to work on the house. I’m going to be very busy for the next few months . . . maybe even for the next year or two.”
“Are you?” he asked. The buzzer rang and he stood up, walking to the door.
“Doing what, I might ask?”
A waiter came in carrying a tray with two buckets of champagne and four glasses. It seemed to take him forever to arrange them on the coffee table. “Should I open these for you, sir?” he asked.
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