From the âPeople Are Talkingâ
Column of the Eastwick, Connecticut, Gazette
All of local society is abuzz with rumors that the wedding of the yearâbetween the heiress of a certain very old Eastwick family and her almost equally well-connected fiancéâmight not happen.
Of course, this wedding has been postponed so many times that some people wondered whether the bride was really ready to get married. But we thought she meant it this time. The wedding invitations have been chosen, and all the arrangementsâright down to the name cards and the place settingsâhave been made.
And yet we hear the bride-to-be is having second thoughts. Hmmâ¦Could that have anything to do with the sudden reappearance in our little town of another manâa very handsome, very troublesome man the lady is rumored to have been, umâ¦âinvolvedâ with years agoâ¦?
Emma Dearborn felt an itch. Not a little itch. A maddening, unrelenting itchâright between her shoulder blades, where she couldnât reach it.
Emma wasnât prone to itches and was almost never guilty of fidgeting, which was probably why she remembered experiencing the same terrorizing itch sensation before. It had only happened twice in her life. The first time, sheâd accidentally driven her dadâs restored priceless Morgan into Long Island Sound at Greenwich Point when she was sixteen. The car had been recovered; her dad nearly hadnât. The other time, her date for the annual Christmas cotillion had turned ugly, and sheâd had to walk home in her long white satin dress and heels in a snowstorm, crying the whole time.
Since those days, of course, she was no longer a novice with driving or men. More to the point, the itch this time couldnât possibly relate to some impending traumatic event. Her life was going splendiferously.
Impatiently she took a long gulp of mint-raspberry tea. Mentally she told herself to get over the damned itch and quit squirming. For Peteâs sake, there was nothing remotely wrong. Everything around her reflected her serenely contented life.
âEmma?â
A basking-warm June sun soaked through the glass windows overlooking the pool outside. The Emerald Room was the one place in the Eastwick Country Club where members could dress casually. Today the pool was chock-full of kids fresh out of school and shrieking with joyful energy. Inside, moms in sandals and shorts elbowed with the business-lunch crowd in suits.
Emma, because sheâd just chaired a meeting of the fund-raising committee, was stuck dressed on the formal side. Her light silk sheath was lavender-blue, not because it was her signature color. Emma objected to the whole pretentious concept of signature colors. Somehow, though, her closet mysteriously filled up with blues. Everyone else in the group was dressed more laid-backânot that anyone cared today about clothes.
The Debs had missed their traditional lunch last monthâeveryone was so darn busy!âwhich meant they all had to talk at once to catch up.
Harry, the bartender, had kindly reserved the malachite table by the doors, not just giving them the best view but also a little privacy for their gossip. Felicity and Vanessa and Abby were all there.
Emmaâs heart warmed to the laughterâeven if that itch was still driving her crazy. The friends were closer than sisters. Theyâd all grown up together, attended the same private school, knew each otherâs most embarrassing momentsâand tended to bring them out at these lunches. If the teasing ever lagged, there was always their debutante history to haul out of storage. What were friends for if not to savor and embellish the most mortifying events in oneâs life? And Caroline Keating-Spence had joined them for lunch this time.
âEmma, are you sleeping?â
Quickly she whipped her head toward Felicity, not realizing that sheâd dropped out of the conversation. âNot sleeping, honest. Just kind of woolgathering what a long history we have togetherâ¦how much fun weâve always had.â
âYeah, sure.â Vanessa winked to the rest of them. âShe covered up nicely, but we all know sheâs engaged. Naturally she wasnât listening to us. Sheâs at that moony stage.â
Felicity chuckled. âEither that or that big clunk of a sapphire on her finger is blinding her. Hells bells, it blinds the rest of us, too. What an original engagement ring. But thatâs exactly what I was trying to ask you about, Em. Howâs everything going with the wedding plans?â
Again she felt that exasperating itch spider up her spine. This was getting downright crazy. Her engagement to Reed Kelly was yet another thing that was going totallyâtotallyâright in her life. At twenty-nine years old, sheâd stopped believing sheâd ever be married.