Auf'd (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Two)

Chapter 7

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Belinda laid out several non-coordinating items on the bed in an attempt to get dressed for the cocktail party that evening. Immediately after they moved into the carriage house, Belinda claimed the upstairs loft bedroom as her own. Kyle only stepped foot up there once, but Belinda had carefully strung out her lace push-up bras and matching hiphugger panties, successfully sending Kyle running for the downstairs. After that, he graciously offered to sleep on the couch.

She had to leave early to help arrange everything at the art gallery and she didn't have a thing to wear. And Belinda didn't throw that cliché around. None of her dresses had made it into the suitcases, so she was left with separates that seemed to have no mates. After trying almost everything together except for her pajamas, Belinda landed on something that she actually liked a lot. For the first time that day, she felt confident about the party. Maybe something good would come out of all the nonsense after all.

Belinda checked herself out in the bathroom mirror, thinking she might need an extra coat of mascara. She circled around to make sure she was all right from every possible angle. Up close. Far away. From the right. From the left. Bending over.

She wiggled into her heels and locked the door behind her just in time to get to the gallery when she wanted. Kyle had texted that he was going to the marine store after work to pick up supplies and then he had plans. 

Plans? Irregular. He didn't elucidate, and the way he said it, Belinda knew his plans didn't include working on Sea Stud. But she'd have to ask him about that later. Right then she needed a parking spot and some antianxiety medication.

Belinda dashed around the art gallery patting down a corner of a tablecloth, directing servers to stagger the wine and champagne so it didn't run out, and nudging the flower vases to center them on the tables. Everything was in place and ready to run smoothly, so she felt a little entitled to breathe. The honey-colored wood floor creaked as guests arrived, mixed, mingled, and admired the art lining the walls. Kori found her in the back, cornered by Mrs. Sykes.

"Wonderful job," Mrs. Sykes said enthusiastically. Maybe more so now that she held a glass of red wine. "I thought a poolside party would be good next."

Belinda nearly choked on a meatball she'd stolen from the back. Hosting meant you didn't actually get to eat yourself. "Next?" 

Mrs. Sykes nodded while swallowing, swirling the wine around and around in the glass. "They're still stuck here, so I thought the least we can do is entertain them."

We, Belinda thought ironically.

"So it's a plan?" Mrs. Sykes said with her eyes all innocent and wide.

Belinda could see the door from where she stood. Maybe she should run for it. Why wasn't she on a sabbatical in Europe, like her parents? Was she nuts? But what came out of her mouth was, "It's a plan."

Mrs. Sykes beamed. "You're a doll!" She squished Belinda in a hug and skittered off to mingle.

Kori handed Belinda a champagne flute. "She's in a good mood."

Belinda took a gulp, which was etiquette illiterate, but she needed an instant hit. She was experiencing déjà vu. Just like with the runway show, she thought the end of that night meant freedom. But now she had to scurry to put together a poolside party—and she still had plenty of work left before the next Saturday.

"It's the divorce," Belinda said between gulps. 

Kori raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Didn't expect that from you."