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“The two of you,” he said, and there was such warmth in his voice that Jecca couldn’t help smiling. “Nell knew who they were, but you and your art and your generous heart have pulled them toward what no one thought they could do.”
“I hope so,” Jecca said.
“Okay!” Tris said. “That’s all the pep talk we have time for. Now go get dressed before the sight of your bare legs drives me insane and I have my way with you here on the kitchen floor.”
“Maybe we should—”
“Temptress, go!” he said and spun her around toward the bedroom.
Reluctantly, she left the safety of his arms and got her clothes out of his closet. No matter how often she reminded herself that this wasn’t New York, wasn’t a show of her paintings, wasn’t something that was going to be ripped apart by critics, and wasn’t something that was going to forever affect her life, she was still nervous. She didn’t want to let the children down.
How was little Kaylin going to do when walking down a runway in front of what Tris said would be at least a hundred people? The girl was so shy she’d hardly talk to Jecca. She had a vision of Kaylin
standing at the back of the runway and refusing to go any farther.
One way or another, all the children except Nell were misfits, the kind of kids the others bullied and excluded from the normal school activities.
As she dressed, Jecca again wondered what Roan had done with the children. Nell would do whatever was asked of her, but the other kids . . .
Jecca took a moment to calm herself, then slipped on a black dress that she’d brought from New York. She was wearing head to toe black, as she didn’t want to call attention to herself. Today belonged wholly to the children. She put her shoulders back and went into the kitchen.
“Wow!” Tris said. “No one’s going to look at the kids’ clothes with you in that dress.”
“The idea is for me to be inconspicuous.”
“Couldn’t happen,” he said as he kissed her, then put a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her.
“You just think that because you—” She broke off. “Love me” was what she’d almost said. But she couldn’t finish the sentence, wouldn’t finish it.
“Yeah, I do,” Tris said softly, then told her to eat while he got dressed.
Thirty minutes later they were in his car, he in his tuxedo, Jecca in her black silk sheath and heels. Her short dark hair was tamed into a respectable wave, and her makeup was subdued but perfect.
Tris clasped her hand, kissed the back of it, and asked if she was ready.
“I think maybe I am,” she said and was pleased to feel energy and excitement running through her.
“Look out Savannah McDowell, Jecca Layton is on her way,” Tris said as he started the car.
“Right on!?Rig217;t 1; Jecca said.
When they arrived at the party site, Jecca was impressed by the elaborate setting. First there was the house. In keeping with the tone set by nearby Williamsburg, the enormous brick mansion was some architect’s idea of “Colonial.”
“Like it?” Tris asked as Jecca leaned forward to look up at the behemoth.
“For what? A junior college?”
He didn’t smile. “As a home.”
“I grew up too blue collar for that,” Jecca said. “I like—” For the second time, she broke off. In her nervous excitement she’d almost said things she’d later regret. She’d almost said that she liked old houses near a lake. His house. Tristan’s lovely old house where three of the kitchen cabinet doors wouldn’t close, where the furniture had the stuffing exposed, the little doctor’s office looked like a Norman Rockwell painting, and the floors creaked. Tristan’s house, where she woke up to the sound of birds, where she and Tris made love on the island in his pond, where the ducks already knew that she carried food for them, where the playhouse sat waiting for her to bring it back to life.
“I like New York apartments,” she said at last. She saw the little frown that crossed Tris’s beautiful face, and she knew that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. But she couldn’t say the truth—or even what she truly felt.
Tris drove around the back of the house, and Jecca could see an area roped off where people were to park. Even though she and Tris were hours early, high school boys were already there, wearing bright yellow jackets in preparation for helping the cars park.
What drew Jecca’s attention was the enormous structure in the middle of what had to be an acre of lawn. A T-shaped platform had been built. It was a runway as big as any in New York or Paris. To the back was a huge tent made of blue-and-white striped canvas. Along the sides were what looked to be over a hundred wooden chairs.
“The birthday party that ate the earth,” Jecca said.
