“We do,” Susan says. She’s picked up one of the scattered paperbacks and is peering down at the synopsis on the back cover with narrowed eyes as she chews. She doesn’t seem particularly interested in talking about Jackie, which makes no sense at all.
“I saw you getting along rather well at her party?” Claire says.
“With Jacqueline?” Susan says, tossing the book back onto the table and picking over the tray of aspics Martha just put down. “Oh, she’s a gas. But I won’t be socializing with her regularly, obviously.”
“Why not?” Claire asks. She can’t imagine not wanting to see Jackie all the time, if given the chance. Why on earth would Susan not want to associate with her? It certainly isn’tobvious.
“She’s not exactly normal, is she?” Susan says airily. “You were at that party. A dalliance now and then is one thing, but it’s quite another to make a lifestyle out of it.”
Something unfamiliar rises behind Claire’s ribs. An indignation, on Jackie’s behalf, for the judgmental tone in Susan’s voice. Before she can think, Claire’s mouth opens. “Wasn’t your husband in the pool?”
Susan looks at her sharply. More than anything she looks shocked by Claire’s sudden and uncharacteristic gall, but before she can retort one of the chairs opposite the couch is taken up byDorothy O’Neil. She lives next to Martha, and she’s never missed a book club meeting.
“Are you talking about the housewarming party last week?” Dorothy says. “Can youbelievehow rowdy it was? That woman should be ashamed.”
“Ashamed of what, exactly?” Claire says.
“A single woman of her age, moving to a nice place like this? She’s not going to find herself a husband here,” Martha says. She sits in the easy chair just to Claire’s left, adjusting herself more comfortably with a hand over her belly.
Dorothy titters. “Maybe she’s looking to be a mistress.”
Another woman pipes in—Louise, who lives around the corner. She’s always been nice enough to Claire, if a bit dull, but she certainly isn’t being very nice now. “And have you seen howdarkshe is? Don thinks she’s an Italian.”
“She’s Greek,” Claire says, but her voice is lost in the group.
“You’d think her realtor would have warned her this is too nice a neighborhood for that kind of thing,” Dorothy says.
“And have you seen her car? Some rich man bought it for her, no doubt,” Louise says. “Only a floozy needs to drive a car like that.”
Martha clicks her tongue. “Hang on to your husbands, ladies.”
Four pinpricks of pain erupt against Claire’s palm. She hides her balled fist between her thigh and the arm of the couch. “Have any of you even spoken to her?”
“Why would I want to speak to a woman like that?” Martha says. “I said hello when she moved in, and that was enough to know she’s bad news.”
The other ladies cluck in agreement. Claire looks to Susan, but Susan says nothing—she only takes the glass of punch offered to her by Martha, watching the conversation over the rim of her glass.
They hardly even talk about the book, in the end. The full meeting is taken up by gossip, which thankfully shifts from Jackie to other targets quickly enough, and once the other ladies have left Claire finds that she’s not very enthusiastic about helping Martha clean up.
“What’s eating you?” Martha says, after Claire has unhelpfully moved the same tray of empty teacups from place to place three times.
“Sorry,” Claire says, leaning against the couch. She feels deflated, like she’s spent the last two hours holding a heavy weight. “I’m a bit bothered by all the gossip, I think.”
“We always gossip,” Martha says, handing Claire a small garbage bin. She starts gathering napkins and leftover food to put in it, and Claire trails her.
“I don’t think Jackie deserves it.”
Martha stops so suddenly that Claire walks straight into her back. She turns, levelling Claire with a furrowed brow. “Jackie?Since when are you so familiar?”
“Jacqueline,” Claire corrects quickly. Her stomach does a little twist. “I just think she’s an interesting addition to the neighborhood, that’s all.”
“Interesting is one word for it,” Martha says. She starts gathering garbage again, and Claire holds out the bin to make it easier.
“What word would you use?”
“Disruptive.”
“Sure, her party was a bit much,” Claire says, putting the bin down near the door when Martha has finished collecting, “but she’s really very nice.”
