When they made it to the first floor, they found Parker, his face the color of chalk, hovering helplessly at Stanton Perry’s side. Stanton gripped his stomach with one hand while holding on to Deirdre with the other as she clung to the table in the great room. With a whimper, she vomited on the mock-up of the Greenwich compound.
“So much for the kingdom,” Elizabeth whispered to Ian.
He nodded, suppressing a smile.
Stanton turned to Parker, his eyes blazing.
“Emily!” Parker bellowed. “We have an issue!”
Twenty minutes later, the townhouse resembled a mini infirmary, with EMTs triaging the sick.
Elizabeth and Karen flanked Emily, her eyes saucers of panic, holding a handkerchief to stifle her sobs. “I don’t understand this. How did this happen?”
“I don’t fucking believe this,” Parker said with a grimace, hand on his stomach.
“Parker, lay off, this isn’t the time,” Elizabeth said.
EMTs passed them, some carrying Ziploc bags bulging with food, others wheeling gurneys bearing groaning guests.
“This is the perfect time,” he said, color draining from his face. “What the hell is wrong with this picture? In my world, my housewarming party doesn’t turn into a damn MASH unit!”
“Neither of you got sick?” Emily said to Karen and Elizabeth. “What did you eat?”
They didn’t answer, watching a couple being wheeled past them and out the door.
“You’ll hear from my attorney, Davis,” the husband groaned.
“Nick!” Parker bellowed.
An EMT strolled over. “Which one of you is Julia Child? I need a complete list of what you served.”
Parker turned to Emily. “Your job is to help me win new clients,” he said, clutching his stomach. “Not poison them!” Leaning against a bamboo plant, he let out a guttural moan and threw up on his shoes. “Oh shit,” he whimpered. “Not the Ferragamos.”
Two EMT workers heaved him onto a gurney as Emily hurried to his side.
Nick appeared at the top of the stairs, helping a woman down from the second floor.
“Nick…Nick,” Parker gasped.
Nick handed the woman off to an EMT and came to Parker’s side.
“Take care of this, Nick,” he sputtered. “Take care of this shit.”
Nick patted his shoulder. “I’ve got it under control. Don’t worry about it.”
Elizabeth and Nick stood apart, taking a moment out of the madness.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine. I need to go to the hospital to babysit Parker. This is going to cost him money—some of which I will be collecting.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Nick!” Parker ordered. “Get the hell over here!”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “It’ll be chaos. You don’t need to be involved. Head on home with Karen.”
“I think I should—”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, his tone firm.
Elizabeth accompanied Stanton outside to a waiting ambulance. Dierdre’s moans floated out from its interior.
“Thanks,” Stanton said, his face glistening with perspiration.
“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” she said.
Robert and Karen joined her and they watched the ambulances pull away from the curb, sirens wailing. A small crowd loitered, watching the spectacle. It was only eight o’clock but it felt like the evening had been going on for hours. The air was still and humid, clammy against their air-conditioned skin.
“Well, that was a killer party,” Robert said.
“Do you want to come back to the apartment?” Karen asked.
Elizabeth shook her head.
They said their good-nights; Elizabeth lingered, finally realizing she was hungry.
She was thinking of a muffin and a latte at the Starbucks near her apartment when she heard the click of a lighter behind her. She turned to find Ian taking a deep pull on his cigarette.
He came forward, offering his hand. “Come along now.”
“And where are we going?”
“Just a wee drink.”
“A wee drink? You know, it’s a distinct possibility you’re not as cute as you think you are.”
Ian considered this statement. “No, I’m very cute.” And then he grinned.
What a smile, Elizabeth thought, watching his features soften. Her insides began to flutter and she forced herself to stay stern.
His hand was out, open, palm up, inviting, waiting. “I did save your life tonight, didn’t I?”
“So you did,” she said, ignoring his hand but falling into step with him. “One drink, that’s all.”
Chapter 9
Elizabeth lounged comfortably across from Ian at a sidewalk table. He had taken her to a quiet spot on Bleecker, barely noticeable and refreshingly empty in comparison to its tourist-packed neighbors. Ian leaned back in his chair, smoking, shifting the cigarette under the table when the waiter brought out plates of appetizers and set down two drinks.
She took a long sip, enjoying the liquid going down smooth and cold.
“You may want to slow down a bit. It’s rather strong.”
“I can handle my liquor. And I don’t get drunk.”
“Of course you don’t,” he agreed with a smile.
“So why aren’t you in Florida? Art Basel is in six months. That’s where all the rich and beautiful go to see the brilliant enfants terribles of art.”
“I’m closing the deal on representation.”
She raised an eyebrow. “A dealer? I’m impressed.” Elizabeth raised her glass. “I hope you will be his Monet and he will be your Durand-Ruel.”
They clinked glasses, regarding each other as they sipped.
“Is your father proud and your brothers jealous?”
“My mother is proud and my sisters are not jealous.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Surrounded by females. A life of adoration and pampering.”
“A life of learning sensitivity and understanding. So you see, Lizzie, you’re quite safe with me.”
He signaled to the waiter for two more drinks.
“I’ll keep my guard up, just in case.”
An hour later, the waiter cleared away another set of empty glasses with the picked-over appetizer plates. He reappeared briefly to bring yet another round of drinks.
Elizabeth smiled. She felt warm and relaxed. She noticed Ian’s chair had inched around the table, edging closer to her. When they leaned back in their chairs, their knees brushed lightly against each other.
“So,” Elizabeth began, “you don’t ever want to be married?”
Ian raised his eyebrows and laughed. “That’s a very direct statement, Lizzie. No. I don’t.”