The Truth About Numbnuts and Chubbs(26)

She sat across from him at dinner. It was a small, square table and their knees almost touched.

"So you're off on another of your trips tomorrow, Ben?" Carl asked, tucking bravely into something that looked like a rolled up grey blanket.

"Uh huh. Just a few days."

"Somewhere sunny no doubt, while we're all suffering minus degree weather here in the city."

"Grand Bahamas."

Resentful silence fell over the dinner.

"It's just business," he added. "Not like I'll get to enjoy the weather."

Helena took a chug from her wine glass. "I guess you're going in the private plane. Never have to get pushed around at airports like the rest of us."

"It's just a second-hand Boeing 727. You can get one for under four mill these days."

Carl coughed into his napkin and Helena finished her wine in one gulp. Bry was watching him across the candles, her eyes shining with amusement. "I don't think you even know what you just said do you?"

"What?"

Only Carl attempted to explain. "You live in a whole other world, Petruska," he muttered, shaking his head.

"No, I don't. I'm in the same one as you are."

"Some of us," Helena snapped, "don't have four million to spend on anything."

But they still spent everything they earned and more. Apparently he wasn't supposed to do that. He was supposed to sit on his money and pretend he didn't have it, hadn't earned every fucking cent. No one handed him anything; he'd worked for it all, but people still resented it, still hated him for it. They called him lucky, when luck was nothing to do with it.

Suddenly Bry asked her cousin, "So how much does prep school tuition cost these days for Rory and Randal?"

Carl answered immediately, his lips tight, eyes burning into his dinner. "Claremont is thirty thousand a year now. Each."

Helena looked up. "But we always said the children's education was important no matter what it cost."

"Yes." Her husband sighed deeply. "We did. Neither of us thought it would be sixty thousand a year though, did we?"

Brief silence.

Bry remarked calmly, "I suppose we all spend our money on what matters to us. Whatever it is. I know its a trite comparison but, it's like me and my shoes. No one thinks they're worth it either, but I do."

He could hardly believe his ears. Mulligan had just come to his defense. It had to be by accident.

"As an accountant, you ought to know better than waste your money on shoes," said Helena, pursing her shrewish lips, missing her cousin's point entirely.

"Everyone has to have one failing," Bry muttered. "At least one." Ben caught her eye and felt a very warm wave lapping at his insides. He didn't even mind the foul taste of Helena's food anymore.

"So what's going on in the Bahamas?" asked Carl.

He thought for a minute, watching Bry nibble at a piece of bread, remembering how her lipstick tasted. "Hmmm. Not sure yet. That remains to be seen."



* * * *



Ben left early, using the excuse that he had to pack. Bryony made no move to leave. She settled in one corner of the sofa and sipped coffee as if she had all the time in the world. If he expected her to leap up and rush out, he'd be disappointed. No doubt the women he usually hung around with took hours to pack for a two day trip. Not Bry.

If she decided to go.

When Helena got up to fill the dishwasher, she offered to help, but was immediately told to stay where she was. Carl followed his wife, probably aware that even thought she claimed not to require assistance he wouldn't hear the last of it later if he took that at face value.

Ben was right, she mused. A lot of their cousins' troubles could be stopped if they simply communicated honestly with one another.

Once Helena came out of the kitchen again she would no doubt start pumping her with questions about last night and Carl would do his part. She'd be cornered with no one else around to deflect the bullets. Maybe it was time to go after all. Setting her coffee cup on the table, she rose and approached the kitchen to say her goodbyes. The dishwasher had just started up.

"She assured me they didn't," Helena was whispering, "and I believe her. She's too smart for him. He likes big tits and small brains."

"But he asked me about her favorite flowers and he's always had the hots for her. I could have sworn they left the gallery together."

Bry's heart dropped to her knees.

"Well, you're wrong. Again," Helena exclaimed under a sharp, scornful breath. "If he ever looked at her it's because she's the one woman he'll never have. Must drive him insane that she's not interested. She's way too sensible to fall for his tricks and your cousin knows it."

Wait a minute. Back up. Ben Petruska had always had the hots for her?