The Lost Recipe for Happiness - By Barbara O'Neal Page 0,78

of hanging a scarf on the doorknob.

Elena wanted to protest. Warn him. Them. There behind them, behind the dark purple yearning, was an edging of red pain. She wanted to say, Stop, stop stop! You’ll ruin each other!

But what did she know? And maybe people had a perfect right to ruin each other, even to choose it. She nodded. “Thanks, guys. You did a great job tonight, and I appreciate it.”

Ivan neatly climbed behind the wheel. Patrick composed his limbs in the passenger seat. Elena’s stomach squeezed and she turned away.

As she went back toward the kitchen, Elena spied a group of men out in the courtyard, smoking cigars. A fire burned in a kiva-style fireplace, providing warmth for the thin-skinned Californians. From the great room spilled the sound of women’s voices, talking and laughing in such refined ways that it was almost as if they were instruments layered over the soundtrack of the evening.

Portia was right where Elena had left her, her arms flung in front of her on the counter, her head on one elbow. She opened one delphinium eye. “I didn’t move a muscle,” she reported. “Well”—she snickered—“maybe my neck.”

“Come on, honey. Let’s get you to bed, huh?”

“No! I was doing…stuff…out. There.” She shook her head, nearly fell off the stool.

“I’m sure.” Elena draped one of the girl’s long white arms around her neck, and slipped her own arm around Portia’s waist. “You’re so tiny!”

“No, I’m so not tiny,” she said, allowing herself to be led. “My mom is tiny. Tiny, tiny, tiny.” She made a tiny circle with her finger and thumb. “She can’t even wear my clothes. How sad is that! The mom too tiny for the daughter’s clothes!”

At the hallway, Elena peeked around the corner and saw the Masters of the Universe were still wrapped up in their cigars. No one would pay any attention to this dark hallway.

They didn’t. Elena navigated Portia down the stairs to her bedroom. Alvin was sleeping there, on Portia’s bed. “You traitor!” Elena exclaimed.

He looked apologetic, and flipped the end of his feathery tail the slightest bit, but didn’t appreciably move. Portia said, “Aw! Look at him!” She sank to her knees on the edge of the bed and kissed his nose. He groaned softly.

“C’mon, honey,” Elena said. “Where’re your pajamas?”

“Oh, I’ll just sleep like this.”

“No.” Elena took a guess and found the pajamas on the back of the bathroom door. She held them out. “Can you change?”

Portia rolled her eyes. “Course.” She held out her hand and took the flannel pants and skinny T-shirt. At the door, she paused. “Oh, maybe my zipper.”

Elena pulled it down for her. “Careful,” she said, when Portia swayed.

“Ohhhhh!” she said suddenly, and put her hand to her mouth. She dropped her clothes and ran for the toilet. She threw up impressively, then sank to the floor with a whimper.

“Probably doesn’t seem like it, but that’s a good thing.” Elena took a washcloth from the cupboard and ran cold water over it. Bending down, she handed the cloth to Portia. “If you’ve had too much to drink, it’s never bad to throw up and get rid of the excess alcohol.”

Portia put the cloth to her mouth. “That’s…like…bulimia.”

“Yeah, well, better throwing up than dying of alcohol poisoning.”

With a sick nod, Portia swayed. “I might need help putting on my pajamas.”

“Okay.” Gently, she helped Portia shed the expensive dress, and into her pants and shirt, helping preserve her modesty as much as possible. Elena pulled the bobby pins out of her hair, and gave her a toothbrush with toothpaste on it, and while it wasn’t the brushing job of the century, at least her mouth would feel better in the morning. Finally, she helped Portia into bed and covered her with the duvet. “I’ll bring you some water. Do you need anything else?”

Portia shook her head. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Elena sat down on the side of the bed. “I can’t promise you that, Portia, but let’s talk for a second. If you are in trouble if they test your urine, you’ve been in trouble with drinking before, right?”

“No,” she said with a long sigh. “My friend was in trouble. Not me. I was just with her.”

“But you still knew you’d get in trouble.”

Portia snorted and opened her eyes. “In case you didn’t notice, nobody cares what their kids do in this world.”

“I think your dad cares what you do.”

“Oh, so how is it that he didn’t even notice me drinking when I was