The Pre-Nup Page 17

  She rolled down the window and yelled, “Perfect timing. I could use a drinking buddy right about now. Hop in and we’ll go for margaritas.”

  “No can do.” Mara didn’t move from the doorstep, so Ellie turned off the car with an exasperated sigh.

  “Since when do you turn down margaritas?”

  Mara waited until Ellie joined her under the portico, then muttered, “I tried to call, but you weren’t picking up.”

  “What’s up with the monotone and shifty eyes?” Ellie asked.

  Mara jerked her head toward her car, which was parked at the curb by the mailbox. Ellie followed her gaze and noticed the woman in the passenger seat: a tiny slip of a female with the face of an angel, the cagey eyes of a fox, and the bustline of Pamela Anderson. When the stranger saw them both staring at her, she got out of the car and started toward them. Her small stature was only emphasized by her outfit of baggy sweatpants and an enormous blue sweater.

  “Pleased to meet you.” Ellie extended her right hand and slapped on the sweet, superficial smile that had gotten her through countless benefit luncheons. “I’m Ellie Barton.”

  The other woman regarded her with obvious suspicion and made no move to reciprocate the greeting. Ellie withdrew her hand and threw Mara a questioning glance.

  “This is Alex,” Mara announced. “She’s a friend of Josh’s from out of town and she needs a place to stay for a few days.”

  Ellie immediately saw where Mara was going with this and did her best to head her off at the pass. “I see. Well, there’s a lovely bed-and-breakfast that just opened by the Frank Lloyd Wright estate, and of course, the Fairmont is divine this time of year.”

  “Yeah, that’s not gonna work.” Mara turned to Alex. “Could you excuse us for one moment? Thanks.” She waited for Ellie to unlock the door and followed her into the house, where she delivered a quick rundown on Josh, the stripper, and the navy sweater. “And she refuses to let me pay for a hotel, and Jen’s still in L.A., so if you could—”

  “Oh, no.” Ellie shook her head so fast, the room spun. “No, no, no, no, no. I have more stress than I can handle already. I do not need sweater subterfuge and strippers added to the mix. I have a child, for heaven’s sake.”

  “‘Stripper’ is such a pejorative label,” Mara said. “Think of her as Josh’s potential trainee. Come on, don’t you want to do your bit to better the community?”

  “I’m no longer part of this community. Caroline Surbaugh and the gold-plated Gestapo are crucifying me over canapés as we speak. I need a few minutes alone to have a nervous breakdown before I pick up Hannah at preschool, and then I need to hire a forensic accountant.”

  “Want me to get you some names?” Mara offered. “I’ll help any way I can. Money, baby-sitting, you name it.”

  “Thanks. And under normal circumstances, I’d do the same for you. But I don’t know the first thing about this woman. What if she’s a drug addict? What if she steals? What if she murders me in my bed and then kidnaps Hannah?”

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous. Who in their right mind would want a three-year-old?”

  “It’s okay.” Alex’s voice was directly behind them, and Ellie and Mara both were startled. “I wouldn’t want me for a houseguest, either, if I lived in a neighborhood like this.”

  Ellie whirled around, clutching her coat lapels. “No, no. It’s not you; it’s me. I’m dealing with a few personal issues right now. My husband just left me.”

  Alex nodded. “I’ve been there.”

  “And my daughter’s having trouble adjusting and—”

  “No explanation necessary.” Those big hazel eyes glittered. “I get it. People like you don’t associate with people like me.”

  Ellie flushed.

  “But just for the record.” Alex unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it into her mouth. “I don’t do drugs and I don’t steal. And I definitely don’t kidnap.”

  Mara blanched. “No, of course not.”

  “I’m not just some waste of space.” Her posture took on a defensive swagger. “And I can take care of myself, so if you’re waiting for me to beg…”

  Something inside Ellie snapped at the word “beg.” “You can stay.”

  Mara blinked. “But you just said—”

  “I know what I said. And now I’m saying I’d love to play hostess for a few days. It’ll keep me from sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I’ll put fresh towels in the guest room and whip up some muffins.” This time her smile was genuine. “I just hope you don’t mind the Dora the Explorer theme song blasting at six-thirty A.M.”

  “I probably won’t even hear it.” Alex assured her. “I trained myself to go deaf at will after I heard ‘Girls, Girls, Girls’ one too many times backstage. If I can block out Mötley Crüe, I can block out anything.” She scuffed the toe of her sneaker against the marble floor. “But you don’t have to do this. I’ll figure something out. If all else fails, I can always go back to Josh’s couch.”

  Mara kept her mouth shut, but her forehead veins bulged.

  “Please stay,” Ellie said firmly. “You’d be doing me a favor. Honestly.”

  “I love you, El,” Mara said. “Save me a muffin?”

  “Greedy, greedy.” Alex rolled her eyes. “Don’t touch my fiancé, don’t wear that sweater, save me a muffin—”

  “I have to get back to the office,” Mara snapped. “And he’s not my fiancé anymore, as you know.” She was out the door before Alex could offer a rebuttal.

  “She’s really very sweet,” Ellie told Alex. “Underneath all the bluster.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.” Alex pointed to the conspicuously vacant patch of living room carpeting and asked Ellie, “So what happened in here?”

  “Oh, that’s where the grand piano used to be. Before my husband absconded with it while I was at the spa he sent me to.” She ticked off Michael’s offenses on her finger. “This was after he cheated on me, while he canceled my charge cards, and before he served the divorce papers.”

  “Ouch.” Alex nodded in sympathy. “My husband took the pool table and the plasma TV. He was a cheater, too. And the worst part was, the chick I finally caught him with wasn’t even pretty. I mean, what’s worse than being left for some stumpy, stringy-haired lounge singer?”

  “Being left for a physician who looks like Angelina Jolie.”

  “Yeah, okay, that might be worse.”

  They paused for a moment of quiet introspection.

  “God, I miss that plasma TV,” Alex finally said. “Hey, were you serious with that muffin offer?”

  “Absolutely.” Ellie led the way into the kitchen. “Although I must say I’m jealous that you can eat muffins and keep that figure.”

  “Oh, I can’t. That’s the good thing about giving up dancing; I’m going to stop tanning and starving myself and totally let myself go. I can’t wait.”

  Ellie grinned. “So you’re not one of those women who worries about how many calories are in a grape?”

  Alex laughed wickedly. “Who has time to worry about calories when there are ratbag ex-husbands to be dealt with?”

  The phone rang while Ellie was toweling Hannah off after bathtime. Hannah had taken an immediate liking to their new houseguest when Alex suggested an “all orange dinner” consisting of mac and cheese, baby carrots, and milk tinted with red and yellow food coloring, and she was all wriggles and giggles despite the late hour.

  “Can you get that?” Ellie called to Alex. “I’m knee-deep in shampoo and toothpaste over here.”

  “Sure.” Alex, who had insisted on washing the dishes and then disappeared into the den to watch a rerun of CSI (apparently, she, too, had considered a career in law enforcement once upon a time), picked up the phone.

  Ten seconds later, Alex appeared in the bathroom doorway. “It’s someone named Patrice.”

  “Gramma!” Hannah squealed. “Mommy, Mommy, let me talk!”

  Ellie and Alex locked eyes in the mirror over
the sink.

  “You can talk to Gramma after you’ve brushed your teeth,” Ellie said. “Alex, would you mind taking over in here for a few minutes?”

  “No problem.”

  Ellie grabbed the phone and hurried out of her daughter’s earshot. “Hello?”

  “Hello.” Patrice’s tone was frosty. “Thank you for taking my call.”

  “Well, of course.” Ellie matched her mother-in-law’s brisk formality. “I know I was upset this afternoon, but it’s only fair to give you a chance to explain.”

  “I’m not calling to explain anything, just to let you know that although we all appreciate the hard work you’ve done for the cancer benefit, it might be best if you declined your invitation.”

  “Best for whom, exactly?”

  Patrice sighed. “The entire committee agrees. We’d prefer that the focus of the event remain on raising awareness for a good cause and not on unsavory rumors.”

  “I haven’t done anything to spark unsavory rumors,” Ellie pointed out. “So if anyone’s bowing out, it should be Michael.”

  “Michael and Heath have already bought a table for their clients.”

  “Oh my God.” Ellie sat down on the edge of the bed. “He’s bringing his new girlfriend, isn’t he? That’s what this is about.”

  “There’s no reason we can’t be civilized about this. I’m merely pointing out—”

  “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t be caught dead at your precious benefit ball. Thanks to your son, I won’t be able to afford a new gown anyway, and heaven forbid I be seen in the same dress twice. What would the committee say?” She hung up the phone and started pounding the receiver against the mattress.

  “Everything okay?” Alex cracked open the door.

  “No.” Ellie sent Hannah off to choose a bedtime book, then continued seething about the blacklist. “It’s not enough to leave me humiliated and penniless. They have to take away my social life, too?”

  “Hold up,” Alex said. “He can’t leave you penniless if you can prove he’s hiding lots of money, right?”

  “Yeah, but like I said before, how am I ever going to prove that if he won’t give up access to his computer?”

  “I think I just figured out what to give you for a hostess gift,” Alex rubbed her palms together. “All you have to do is get my name on the guest list for that benefit ball.”

  Ellie frowned. “But why?”

  “Manipulating men is my business. Your fairy godmother has arrived.”

  “And you have a plan already? It’s only been thirty seconds.”

  “The less you know, the better off you’ll be. Just score me an invite and prepare to be amazed.”

  Jen Chapter 22

  Ellie, you know I’m happy to make a donation to the cancer society, but there’s no way I’m going to that ball,” Jen said as she, Mara, and Ellie began their walk around the golf course. “For one thing, I don’t want to deal with all the questions about why Eric isn’t with me, and for another, I have nothing to wear.”

  “You have nothing to wear?” Mara asked. “Come on. We’ve all seen the inside of your closet. You’ve got enough evening gowns to outfit the entire Miss America pageant.”

  “I know.” Jen quickened her pace. “But I’ve been very upset since Eric moved out, and…”

  “You lost weight, didn’t you?” Mara stayed right on her tail. “I knew it! Woman, you are wasting away. How many times must I tell you: Sometimes you need to take a break from all that macrobiotic, organic crapola and eat a damn cheeseburger.”

  “You do look thinner,” Ellie agreed. “Kind of gaunt, actually. Your cheeks are hollowing out.”

  “I already have a mother, ladies. When I want a lecture on my nutrition, I’ll call her. Besides, I don’t have time for society soirees right now. I’m busy with work.”

  “You’re always busy with work,” Ellie said.

  “Even busier than usual.”

  “Well, that’s great!” Mara said. “So that means your whirlwind publicity tour worked?”

  “Yeah, apparently.” A huge understatement, but Jen wasn’t in the mood to divulge details right now. Since her appearance on the Rory Reid show, orders had started pouring in from all over the country, along with interview requests from magazines and newspapers. Her publicist was euphoric. Her accountant was salivating. And every time Jen looked at the skyrocketing sales projections for next quarter, she felt totally apathetic.

  “Then what’s with all the doom and gloom?” Mara demanded as they veered off the asphalt path to avoid the sprinklers. “You look like you just spent a month in solitary confinement. Have you been talking to Patrick again?”

  Once Mara mentioned his name, Jen realized she hadn’t even thought about her ex-boyfriend since leaving Los Angeles. “No. Although he did send me flowers backstage at the Rory Reid show.”

  Ellie threw out her arms, bringing all three of them to a halt. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Because I threw them in a Dumpster and I never want to think about them again. Like I said, Patrick’s not the problem. The problem is Eric.”

  Mara buried her hands in her hair. “You still haven’t called him? What are you waiting for? You must call. Right now. Here, want to borrow my phone?”

  “Don’t push her; she’ll call him when she’s ready.” Ellie waved away Mara’s cell phone, then muttered to Jen, “Why haven’t you called him?”

  Jen shrugged. “What am I going to say to him? Sorry our marriage is DOA, but the good news is, I’m about to make a ton of money and you’re entitled to at least half of it? He’ll just shut me down again.”

  Ellie furrowed her brow. “I thought he said he wasn’t going to go after Noda.”

  “Maybe he will, maybe he won’t.” Jen squinted into the morning sun. “I could care less at this point.”

  “Don’t let his attorney hear you say that,” Mara warned.

  “Yeah, she’s right,” Ellie agreed. “All you need is love only applies if you’ve got a hefty trust fund to fall back on. I’m learning that one the hard way.”

  “Duly noted.” Jen seized on the chance to change the subject. “So is Michael still crying poor?”

  “Totally. According to him, we’ve been living on credit cards and a prayer for the last seven years. He’s planning to stick me with half the debt and go riding off into the sunset with his mommy and daddy’s money.” Ellie beseeched Jen with her big brown eyes. “That’s why I need you to go to the benefit ball, so I can prove that he’s lying.”

  “I don’t get it,” Jen said. “Am I supposed to pick-pocket his bank card out of his tux?”

  “Nah, he already cleaned out all the bank accounts,” Ellie said. “I need you to take Alex as your plus one.”

  “Who’s Alex?” Jen asked.

  “That would be the stripper who came home from Vegas with Josh,” Mara said.

  “What?”

  “She’s not a stripper anymore!” Ellie cried. “She’s starting a new phase of her life, and we should all be supportive!”

  Jen called a time-out. “Enlighten me. Why exactly am I taking a stripper—pardon me, former stripper—to a black-tie charity event?”

  “So she can bust Michael and make him pay!”

  “But how is she going to do that?” Mara asked. “Especially if he’s bringing the new girlfriend?”

  Ellie nibbled her lower lip. “Well, she kind of glossed over the details. But she assured me that she’s very good at this kind of thing. And you know the gold-plated Gestapo would never add her name to the invitation list. She’s new in town, she’s not old money, she’s not even quote-unquote ‘beer and pretzels rich.’”

  “She’s a stripper,” Mara added.

  “This is not gonna end well,” Jen predicted.

  “Don’t worry about what to wear,” Ellie said. “Just get Alex in the door, then turn around and go straight home. She can take care of herself.”

  Jen put one hand on her hip. “But I still don’t under
stand how—”

  “Fore!” a golfer bellowed across the green.

  “Mara!” Jen tried to shove her friend out of the little white ball’s trajectory, but it was too late.

  Thwack!

  “I’m fine,” Mara repeated for the hundredth time while she, Ellie, and Jen waited for the emergency room staff to call them in. “I didn’t even pass out. I have an incredibly thick skull. Just ask Josh.”

  “You’re not fine,” Jen said. “You dropped like a rock. We thought you were dead!”

  “I was momentarily surprised, that’s all.” Mara rubbed her temple.

  “Don’t touch it!” Ellie cautioned. “You might have internal injuries.”

  “Give me a break. I’m fine. Can we please go now? I have a hair appointment at two.”

  Jen rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, chemicals and blow-drying. That’ll heal you up in a jiff.”

  “Mara Stroebel!” yelled a nurse in pink scrubs.

  “That’s us!” Jen grabbed Mara’s elbow. “Right over here!”

  “Wait, wait!” Mara’s unwitting assailant, a tall, lanky man in a cabled white sweater and atrocious plaid pants, rushed in through the front entrance. “I just wanted to make sure you got here okay and, well, I got you these.” He handed Mara a cellophane-wrapped bunch of wilting carnations. “Best I could do at the gas station. Again, I am so sorry. My grip was off and I sliced left and…well, I’m a terrible golfer. The scary part is, this was actually an improvement over my last game. Might be time to take up fishing instead.”

  Once you got past the garish ensemble, the guy was actually very attractive, Jen decided. And she wasn’t the only one who noticed; Ellie was eyeing the golfer with evident interest.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked Mara. “Still dizzy? Are you bleeding at all?”

  Jen smiled. “Don’t worry, she’s spent the last fifteen minutes explaining how utterly and completely fine she is.”

  “I am,” Mara insisted. “Give me a couple ibuprofen and I’ll be good as new.”

  The nurse in pink scrubs started tapping her foot. “Mara Stroebel?”