Gah. “Call me Juliet. And yes, we did.” She described the tear-down in quick terms, glancing at Arwen’s face as she did so. Unimpressed. Bored, even.
“My wife is a genius,” Oliver said, putting his arm around Juliet. “Every detail was her idea.” He kissed her temple. “I’m so lucky to be married to an architect. I’d be living in a shoebox if not for her. No taste whatsoever. This is all her.”
Juliet smiled gratefully.
“Oh, are you an architect, too?” Cecille asked. “I thought you were . . . in administration?”
Juliet made sure not to look at Arwen and arranged her face in what she hoped was a pleasant expression. “I’m an architect, first and foremost, but I also manage projects.” Arwen hadn’t mentioned what she did? Who she was? She didn’t say, My boss is having a party and we have to go? “I’m Arwen’s boss,” she continued. “I oversee all her work, and the work of four other architects at DJK.” She smiled (hopefully) and tipped her head against Oliver’s shoulder. “Please enjoy yourselves, ladies. There’s a deck on the roof. That spiral staircase in the corner will take you right up, and the view is gorgeous.”
They went off, hand in hand. Juliet thought she heard the words so nineties, but she couldn’t be sure.
“They’re rather nice,” Oliver said.
Her head snapped around to look at him. “Nice?”
“Aren’t they?”
Of course she couldn’t tell him. Not here, not now. Maybe not ever. “I need a drink.”
“Sure thing. What would you like? And just a word of caution, love . . .” He lowered his voice. “Try not to overdo it tonight.”
“Jesus, Oliver.”
“Just putting it out there. I’ll get it for you. Chardonnay?”
“I’ll get it myself.” She loved chardonnay. She loved cosmos, too, but they were so cliché now, so middle-aged. She even liked appletinis, goddamnit. She went out onto the deck, where one of the two bars was set up. “I’ll have a glass of rosé,” she told the bartender, hating herself. But she didn’t dare look any more outdated than she already felt.
“Sweetheart!” Her mother extricated herself from a knot of people and came over, patting her cheek. “What a triumph this is! You’ve outdone yourself, and I know I say that every year, but that’s because every year, it’s true.”
Finally, a true ally. “Hi, Mommy. Hi, Caro. Did you bring Ted?”
“Ted and I are on the rocks,” Caro said, grinning. “You can see I’m really broken up about it.”
“Oh! Um . . . well, I’m glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it!”
Riley London, Genevieve’s great-granddaughter and Juliet’s favorite babysitter for the girls, ran past, chasing Sloane and a little girl with wild hair. The Finlay kid, maybe? “Hi, Ms. Frost!” Riley said over her shoulder. She was with Rav Talwar, Saanvi’s son. Juliet had hired her to keep an eye on some of the younger kids, a move appreciated by the guests who had youngsters. Brianna could’ve done it, too, but she wasn’t that kind of twelve-year-old, and besides, twelve was a little young . . . or was Juliet just making excuses for her? Should she have forced Brianna into service? What if she became one of those horrible, entitled kids, or was she already? Had Juliet failed her? Should she make Brianna volunteer at more than the town arts festival? Maybe bring her to a nursing home and—
“Everything all right, darling?” Mom asked.
“Just fine. Great! How are you? Remember, you’re a guest here. Don’t let everyone talk your ear off. I want you to relax. Did you have something to drink? The food is great, too. Go! Enjoy.”
“Mrs. Frost, could I have a second of your time?” asked a woman whose name Juliet could never remember. “It’s an issue involving some water runoff in my yard, and we left a voice mail with your office last night, but we haven’t heard from you.”
“Probably because it’s Saturday, and even the first selectman gets a day off,” Juliet said, smiling to soften the words. “My mom is officially off duty.”
“No, it’s fine. What’s going on?” Mom said, ever gracious, and Juliet wondered if anyone had any idea how much work she did.
Juliet texted Brianna—ridiculous, yes, but she had sixty people here, and didn’t have the time to go up and down four flights, looking for her eldest, who was doubtlessly hiding.
Nana and Auntie Caro could use some company and a bodyguard. Would you mind hanging out with them?
Sure, came the answer.
Good. That was nice. Maybe Brianna wasn’t beyond salvaging.