Social Lives by Wendy Walker Read Free Book Online Page B

was slightly relieved. “The natives are worried, are they? Now I have to follow through.”
    Jacks touched her arm. “You will. I know you will.”
    â€œI had other plans for the fall. And the winter, and the spring.” Her voice sounded irritated, as though that was all this was to her, an annoyance. An inconvenience. Jacks played along, though she knew her friend was usingher social concerns as a distraction from what was really eating at her from the inside out. Cait would always be her little girl.
    â€œWell, who knows? Maybe it really is an epidemic and you’ll be doing all of us a favor.”
    Rosalyn waved her hand in the air as though she could somehow magically erase the whole incident. “Let’s sit down. Do we know who else is at the table? I’m hardly in the mood for surprises.”
    â€œJust us, the Ridleys, and the new family.”
    â€œNew family?”
    â€œThey’re friends of David’s. And they’re
new
.”
    Jacks studied Rosalyn as she pulled out her chair and gracefully placed herself in it, obviously contemplating the situation.
Yes
, she was most definitely thinking
. New could be good.
They wouldn’t know a thing about anything, and the rest of the room would see how generous Rosalyn Barlow could be. Inviting the new family to her table would go beautifully with her theme for the evening. She had that look, the intensity of obsession, that Jacks understood well. The ghost of Rosalyn’s mother might as well be sitting right there beside her.
    â€œWhat are their names?” Rosalyn asked, now fully committed to the idea.
    Jacks sat down, leaving one chair between herself and Rosalyn. Boy-girl-boy-girl. That was the rule.
    â€œNick Livingston and his wife. Susan, I think.”
    Rosalyn was not satisfied. “Is it Susan?”
    Jacks shook her head. The gin had calmed her nerves but had done nothing to improve her memory. “I have no clue, to be honest. But she’s
young.
Late twenties. Princeton, then Columbia for some journalism degree. Met Nick at a bar in New York.”
    â€œChrist. You know all that but not her name?”
    Jacks shrugged. “What’s more important?”
    Barlow appeared with a fresh drink in hand. He pulled out the chair next to his wife, but was stopped when she grabbed his arm, nearly causing him to spill the scotch.
    â€œShit,” Barlow said under his breath, steadying the drink. “What now?”
    â€œYou can’t sit there.” Rosalyn looked at him incredulously. How drunk was he? Spouses never sat beside one another. That was also the rule.
    â€œOh, fuck it.” Barlow walked around the table and planted himself next to Jacks, who patted his knee—briefly—beneath the table.
    They sat in silence, Jacks and the Barlows, sipping their drinks and waiting for David Halstead and the Livingstons to make their way through the crowd. And as they sat there, pleasant expressions pasted on their faces from a powerful force of habit, their sheer beauty cast an invisible shield against a reality that was discernible solely in the air that surrounded them, air that was thick with worry. When the others appeared, still engaged in the amusement of shared stories from years past, they were stopped in their tracks by the unsettling sense of contradiction they had stumbled into.
    â€œHello, David,” Barlow said first, standing to greet his friend.
    â€œBarlow.” David reached out and shook his hand. “Good to see you, man.”
    â€œAnd you.”
    Then, turning to the table where the ladies had remained seated, David made the introductions. The Barlows to the Livingstons. The Livingstons to Jacks and the Barlows. And after this seemingly harmless interaction, they all took their places at the table.

 
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SIX

THE EVA FACTOR
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    â€œM EET N ICK AND S ARA Livingston.”
    Eva Ridley and her husband, Marcus, both smiled warmly as they