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Sharon and Marjorie nodded in agreement. "What exactly is she saying?"
She told someone we know well that your brother moved his bedroom closer to yours. Is that true?"
"Yes, but--" "She said he had painted a picture to give you and Thatcher for a wedding present, but it's a picture of you only and it's done in a very sexy way. She said he put it over your bed himself, and one of the maids told her he goes there often to look at it. She said he looks at it as if he were looking at the Virgin Mary. She could see no reason for all this, other than something unnatural. perverted."
"Is there something weird going on between you and Linden?" Marjorie dared to ask. Everyone else held her breath.
"That's a disgusting question, an insulting question," I snapped back at her.
"I had to ask." she said defensively. "If we're going to stand by you, we should know the truth. Just like a good defense attorney."
"I'm not asking you to do anything." I said even more sharply. "There is nothing like that going on. I have no reason to need any defense."
"You know what they say about people who protest too much." Sharon quipped.
"Well, it's degrading to hear such things, disgusting, filthy and--"
"We agree," Manon said quickly. She looked around to be sure no one was in earshot before adding, "And we want to help you."
I settled back and stared down at the table.
"Why would she do such a dirty thing?" I muttered.
"Maybe she's the one who has something unnatural for her brother," Marjorie suggested. "The way she looks at Thatcher when they are together. I mean."
"Sounds like a plan." Manon said. nodding,
"What? What are you all saving? There's nothing to that filthy smear, either."
"Doesn't matter," Manon said. "You've got to fight fire with fire. Don't worry, we'll handle it."
"No. I don't want to get into some backstabbing gossip feud with my sister-in-law. I'll confront her directly and make sure that if it's true, it stops."
'Don't underestimate Whitney." Marjorie warned. "You're just an amateur when it comes to the Palm Beach Game and she's an expert. She'll have you for breakfast."
"I'll be fine," I said.
"We're just trying to help you," 1,4anon repeated. "Thank you," I said, but I could see they weren't motivated by a sense of right and wrong so much as they, too, enjoyed playing what they called the Palm Beach Game.
"Tell us about your honeymoon," Sharon said. For a moment I felt like a patient in a therapist's office. I'd shut one pathway to my inner self, so they moved on to travel another.
"Yes, every detail you can remember," Liana added, "Or want to reveal," Sharon said.
"Was it everything you expected?" Manon asked.
I laughed loudly in their faces, and they all seemed to have their spinal cords snapped sharply, making them sit up.
"What's so funny?"
"You all sound like you feed off of other women's love lives," I said. "Vicarious sex."
Never
had I seen smiles evaporate faster.
"Obviously, our psychology student is unable to leave Mr. Freud at home when she goes out with real people," Marjorie said through clenched teeth.
"If things aren't what you hoped they would be, they won't get any better if you take it out on us," Manon added. "You. A student of psychotherapy, should know that better than us."
