We'll Meet Again

85

After Fran left, Molly went upstairs and into the bathroom, where she stood in front of the mirror, studying her face. It looked unfamiliar, as if she were looking at a stranger-one she didn’t particularly care to meet. “You used to be Molly Carpenter, didn’t you?” she asked her mirror image. “Molly Carpenter was a very lucky person, privileged even. Well, guess what? She’s not here anymore, and you can’t go back to pretending to be her. You can only go back to being a number who lives in a cell block. Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun, does it? And maybe it’s not such a great idea.”

She turned on the taps to fill the Jacuzzi, tossed in scented bath salts, and walked into the bedroom.

Jenna had said she was going to stop at a cocktail party before coming over. Her housekeeper would deliver dinner. Jenna will look gorgeous, Molly thought. Then she made a decision. I’ll surprise her-tonight I’m going to have my one last fling at being Molly Carpenter.

An hour later, her hair washed and shining, makeup camouflaging the circles under her eyes, dressed in pale green silk slacks and a matching cowl-neck shirt, Molly waited for Jenna to arrive.

She got there at 7:30, looking every bit as beautiful as Molly had expected. “I’m late,” she wailed. “I was at the Hodges’. They’re clients of the firm. All the big guns came from New York, so I just couldn’t get away any faster.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” Molly said quietly.

Jenna stood back and looked at her. “Molly, you look terrific. Molly, you’re wonderful!”

Molly shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Hey, does your husband expect us to get blotto? When dinner arrived, it was accompanied by three bottles of that great wine he brought the other night.”

Jenna laughed. “That’s Cal. If one bottle would be a pleasant remembrance, three bottles will remind you what an important guy he is. Not the worst trait, I’d say.”

“Not at all,” Molly agreed.

“Let’s test it,” Jenna suggested. “Let’s get a buzz on. Let’s pretend that we’re still the girls who set the tone for this town.”

“We did, didn’t we?” Molly thought. I’m glad I got dressed up. It may be my last hurrah, but it will be fun, I know what I have to do tonight. No more will I be the prisoner in the dock. Fran had a nerve to come in here and make me feel guilty. What does she know about it? She remembered Fran’s words: “I am angry at my father… I’m furious… Believe in Philip. It may not even be important to you, but that guy loves you…”

They stood at the bar built into an alcove in the hallway that ran between the kitchen and family room. Jenna rummaged in the drawer, found the corkscrew, and opened a bottle of the wine. She scanned the shelves and selected two delicate crystal glasses. “My grandmother had these glasses as well,” she said. “Remember how our grandmother’s wills read? You got this house and God knows what else. I got six glasses. That’s about what Gran was down to when she departed this earth.”

Jenna poured the wine, handed one glass to Molly and said, “Bottoms up.”

As they clinked glasses, Molly had the disturbing sensation that she was seeing something in Jenna’s eyes that she didn’t quite understand, something new and entirely unexpected.

She couldn’t imagine what it meant.