A Stranger on the Beach. Michele Campbell
but was praying was not true? In other words, did he know my husband was having an affair? Did everyone know but me? My cheeks were burning at this point. I felt humiliated. But little did I know, the festivities were just getting started.
I’m an experienced hostess, and I normally wouldn’t drink at my own party. But as time went by, and Jason still didn’t show, I guess I had a few more than I intended. By the way, I was drinking the signature cocktail of the night, a Moscow mule, which the caterer offered passed on trays. So, when the waiters walked by, I’d grab one. What I’m saying is, I don’t recall going up to the bar in the tent that night. Not once. Aidan tended bar at my party. I found that out later, but I didn’t know it at the time. I never saw him there, and I certainly didn’t hire him myself. Caterers bring their own staff. Everybody knows that.
Anyway, Jason.
I was talking, probably too loudly, to this woman who was a contributing writer for Dwell magazine, when Lynn walked up and snatched the drink right out of my hand.
“Hey!”
“Excuse us,” Lynn said to the woman, and yanked me away.
“What the hell. I was networking.”
“You’re not doing yourself any favors, getting sloppy at your own party. But at least now I know why.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Jason’s here, and he’s with a woman. A real piece a’ work, too.”
The room went dark. I had to grab Lynn’s arm to steady myself. Everything had been so normal until two nights ago. And now my life was in smoldering ruins around me.
“Where?” I asked.
“Inside, in the living room.”
“Since when?”
“A few minutes. Why didn’t you tell me he’s having an affair? You know I’d go after that son of a bitch.”
“He actually brought someone here? To my house, to my party? I can’t believe he’d do that to me.”
“I’ll have Joe deck him if you want. Or I’ll do it myself.”
“No. You stay here. Distract people. They can’t know about this.”
“It’s too late, hon. Nobody could miss this chick.”
I walked away in a daze, heading for the living room. I had to find Jason, but I had no idea what I’d do when I did. Yell, scream, kick him out? Cry, beg? This didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like us. Meanwhile, the guests were all watching me. I’d dreamed of throwing a party they’d talk about for years. And now they would, but for all the wrong reasons.
5
Heading for the house was the longest walk of my life. I was thinking, This can’t be happening. We’re not those people. We’re teammates, best friends. We’re inseparable. But then I thought, We’re not inseparable. We used to be, but not anymore. This had been a long time coming, actually. Hannah was a preemie, high-strung, not popular in school. I sweated parenting her. Maybe—I’ll be honest—maybe I loved her more than I loved my husband. Anyway, she sucked up all the attention. My life revolved around her. Volunteering at her school. Homework and dance lessons and her social life. Her clothes and her hairstyles and whether she’d go to summer camp. Her college applications. On top of that, yes—the house, the apartment, my Pilates class, my nutty sister who had plenty of drama of her own. None of it was about him. Maybe he felt slighted, or ignored, and so he did what men do. He looked elsewhere.
But then I thought, Hell no. This isn’t my fault. I don’t deserve this. I made that man. Jason was nobody when he met me. Meeting him now, you’d think he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the way he dresses and talks and carries himself. Well, I’ve got news for you—that was all me. That was Caroline, telling Jason what to do, and how to behave, over a period of twenty years. It was hard work, too. When I met him, he was working two jobs, scraping by, struggling to pay for school. He had those dark, chiseled good looks, and he was smart. I saw the potential. But he was rough around the edges. I was the one with the drive, the vision, and, yes, the cold hard cash. I put Jason through business school, or he never would be the tycoon he is today. I used the money Dad left me to do it, blood money, that I lost siblings over. Everything Jason Stark has, every penny, is because of my sacrifice. And yet, he goes and cheats, right when our daughter left, when I’m so alone.
That bastard.
That’s how I was feeling as I walked back to the house. I was furious. I admit that.
Inside, I looked around the living room, but there was no sign of him. It was late, and the crowd was starting to thin out. I walked up to my friend Stacey Allen, whose daughter Grace went to high school with my Hannah, and whose lawyer husband, Josh, represents Jason’s firm. And I didn’t have to say a word. Stacey already knew. She knew who I was looking for, and she pointed at the door.
“He went outside a few minutes ago, with a woman. Caroline, what the hell’s going on?”
Stacey has one of those very expressive faces—wide-eyed, with big features—and it brimmed with pity for me, mixed with excitement, and a subtle touch of schadenfreude. People thought I had such a perfect life. To have something like this befall me would naturally be titillating, and Stacey could spread gossip like wildfire. By tomorrow morning, my entire social circle would know about Jason’s affair, whether I’d invited them to the party or not. As the realization sunk in, my head literally went hot, as if steam was coming out of it, like in the cartoons. I’ll kill that asshole, I thought. Stacey’s eyebrows shot up into her carefully trimmed bangs, and I realized I’d said that out loud. Well, screw her and her ladylike shock. I have the Logan temper. We say things.
“It’s a figure of speech,” I said.
“Of course.”
“Who is she? Do we know her?” I asked, because that was the biggest thing on my mind at that moment. Was Jason doing it with somebody I knew? That would make it so much worse.
Stacey shook her head. “I doubt you’d know her, and you definitely didn’t invite her. She crashed.”
“How could you tell?”
“Jason showed up first, alone. I tried to say hi, but he was on his phone, and he looked distracted. Less than five minutes later, the front door flies open, and she comes in. Rushes in. Almost like she’d chased him here. He basically dragged her out the door to get her away from people, but it was too late. Everybody saw. They’re probably still out there, it’s only been a few minutes,” Stacey said, nodding toward the front door.
“Don’t tell anybody about this,” I said.
“Caroline, they already know.”
I turned and rushed out to the driveway. Jason was still there, talking to her. Her back was to me. The first thing I saw was, she had dark hair. It made no sense. Jason likes blondes, or at least he used to. Like me (though I get a little help with the color). But he had her by the arms, like she was trying to run away, and he wanted to stop her. The intimacy of it made me sick.
I marched right up to them. “What the hell is going on?”
They turned in unison, and Jason jumped away from the woman, like he’d been caught. Goddamn right he had, and with a tramp, by the looks of her. And the smell. The woman reeked of this cheap gardenia perfume. I nearly gagged on it. I started thinking, Maybe she’s a prostitute. This is who he’s cheating with? She wasn’t young, wasn’t beautiful. She had one of those faces that’s almost catlike from too much plastic surgery. I’m sorry, but she was a big step down from me.
Then she opened her mouth, and it got worse.
“Who is this?” she says to Jason, and she’s looking me up and down like I’m dirt. In my own house. But it came out