Strange Bedpersons Read online

  “Instead of Heckle?” Gina shook her head. “I could never tell them apart.”

  “No, instead of Hyde.”

  “I thought Hyde was the monster.”

  “Take a close look at Jekyll sometime,” Tess said. “Especially if there’s money and a promotion involved.”

  “Maybe you should give him another chance,” Gina said. “I mean, he’s really interested in you—” she stopped as Tess gave her a look of contempt “—well, at least part of the time, and last night must have been pretty spectacular or you wouldn’t care what he was, and you like his car, too.” Gina shrugged. “I’d go for it.”

  Tess looked at her in disbelief. “Life is more than great sex and a nice car.”

  “Well, yeah. But not a lot more.”

  Tess glared at Gina in startled indignation, only to find her grinning at her. It was the first smile she’d seen on Gina since they’d come to Kentucky, so she smiled back, relieved that Gina was showing signs of recovering.

  “You’re a nice woman, DaCosta,” Tess said, putting her arm around Gina. “But we have to work on your depth. You have none.”

  “I’m practicing to be a yuppie.” Gina’s grin faded. “Not that I’ll ever be one.”

  Tess frowned. “Listen, I meant it when I told you that the thing at dinner did not matter, but I’ve also got to tell you that lusting after Park Patterson is a bad idea.”

  “I know,” Gina said. “Don’t worry about me. You got enough trouble of your own to handle.”

  “This is true,” Tess said, and they both turned back to the house, sunk in gloom.

  Lunch was not good.

  The food, of course, was impeccable, since Henderson had been in charge of that part. But not even Henderson could have saved the conversation between Nick and Tess.

  “Just tell me what I did wrong,” Nick said under his breath, trying to look unconcerned so no one would catch on they were fighting.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Tess said.

  “If you don’t talk about it, I’ll probably do it again. Although I’m damned if I see what’s so bad about making love to you all night.”

  “It wasn’t the night. It was the morning,” Tess said.

  “We didn’t make love this morning.”

  “Right,” Tess said. “Pass the salt.”

  “If you want to make love, just say so. I’m not a mind reader.”

  “I didn’t want to make love. Well, actually I did, but that’s not it.”

  “Well, then what?”

  “Troubles, Jamieson?” Welch called from the other end of the table.

  “Not at all,” Nick called back, smiling. “Just enjoying another great meal, sir.”

  “You are disgusting,” Tess said to Nick.

  “What did I do?” Nick asked, but she turned away from him to talk to the man next to her.

  TESS MANAGED TO KEEP the chill on through lunch and up to the reading, but then her curiosity got the better of her. In the living room, Henderson had set up rows of carved walnut chairs, their seats covered in navy-and-brown tapestry, so that the place looked like a lecture hall done by Architectural Digest. The chairs were filling up with people who had clout and prestige and really good tailors, leaving Tess to puzzle over why Welch had chosen these guests. They were so upscale, so obviously unlike him, yet he was gruffly pleased to see them there. The only thing she could come up with was that he was courting them so that they’d push his book, an unlikely motive for a literary icon.

  “Does Welch need these people?” Tess asked Nick, forgetting that she was mad at him.

  “Honey, everybody needs these people,” Nick said. “There are two senators and a governor here.”

  Tess frowned. “I know that. What does that have to do with literature?”

  “Nothing.” Nick frowned in thought, and Tess knew he was moving into analytical gear. “I think it’s about public relations. I think Welch wants to move beyond writing. I’ve been watching him all weekend, and I think he’s going after a political career. He was talking to Tricia Sigler about Decker at lunch today, and that’s a high-profile place, a lot of powerful parents send their kids there, and he’s been very tight with Bob O’Donnell all weekends—”

  “Bob O’Donnell?”

  “Republican party honcho here in Kentucky,” Nick said. “I think Welch sees himself as a right-wing standard-bearer. And you know, it’s not a dumb idea. It’s not a bad time for a neoconservative to make a move. There’s some backlash building up against the Democratic administration. And he’s still fairly young. Plenty of time to start a political career. A Senate seat would be a good move for him.” Nick relaxed back into his chair. “Which also takes care of the other mystery, now that I come to think of it. Park told me that Welch doesn’t like his father, Kent Patterson, and never has, so why is he wining and dining us?”

  “Why?” Tess asked, totally confused.

  “Because Kent has clout in the social circles that Welch needs if he wants to get elected,” Nick said promptly. “Kent knows people with money who would like Welch’s politics. Kent may be a lousy lawyer, but he knows how to network. So Welch invited Park and me down here to see if we have the brains to do some minimal law work for him. Then he can give us a contract to make the connection with Kent.” Nick shook his head in admiration. “You know, I’m starting to like Welch a lot better.”

  “I’m starting to like him a lot less,” Tess said. “All this sucking up. What happened to the good old days when rich white men just bought their way into office?”

  “Inflation,” Nick said. “Nobody’s that rich anymore.” He smiled at Tess. “You know, I owe you for this weekend. Welch really likes you, and that’s made points for me.” He patted Tess on the shoulder, and she made a disgusted face at him. “No, I really mean it. I watched the two of you at lunch. He likes the hard time you give him as much as you like giving it to him. I’d be jealous except I know you’re crazy about me.”

  “That was last night, this is today,” Tess said, but he grinned at her confidently. She looked away just in time to see Welch come into the room for the reading.

  He was imposing as he took his stand behind the massive walnut podium that Henderson had placed at one end of the room, and when he began to speak in general on the ravages that liberalism and feminism had wrought on the country, it was obvious that he was speaking to a mostly receptive audience. It was also obvious that Nick, as usual, was right on the money. Welch was prepping for a move into politics.

  “I don’t like this,” Gina whispered to her.

  “I know,” Tess whispered back. “I know.”

  “If you listen to those people,” Welch was saying, “you’d think life was just a fairy tale where everybody is good and honest and things turn out happily ever after. But you know, I always had my doubts about those happily-ever-afters. Anne Sexton isn’t the only one who wondered about what happened when the chickens came home to roost.” He chuckled and then caught Tess’s eye. She stuck out her tongue at him, and he chuckled again, but this time there seemed to be a nervous edge to his laugh.

  “So my book is about what happens after the happily-ever-after,” Welch said. “Which is why it’s called After the Ever After. The prologue is a fairy tale about a young woman who comes of age in the sixties. Her name is Cinderellen—” the audience tittered politely “—and she buys into happily-ever-after in a big way. This is the end of the tale.”

  Then Welch began to read a scene in which his heroine stood up at the ball and made a speech defending the importance of the environment over big business, a speech that instantly won the heart of the prince, and Tess’s heart stopped. It wasn’t just the snide tone Welch used —a tone that made people in the audience first smile in sardonic amusement and then laugh in outright derision— it was the words, words that were so familiar to her that she recited them silently in unison with Welch as he read, finishing with: “And from then on Cinderellen and the prince looked for the good