Flirting with Temptation - By Kelley St. John Page 0,3
boomed over the microphone as the song reached its climax. “Now, wai-a-ait a minute,” she sang, while Richard, and every other guest, burst out laughing.
“Clarise, I’m taking the little darlings out to the foyer to see the big Christmas tree.” Olivia Eubanks’s voice was louder than Babette had ever heard it, with her trying to pitch it over Genie’s shrill singing and over the four-year-olds, both begging to go see the “big tree.”
“That’s fine,” Clarise said, ruffling Little Ethan’s hair as she spoke. “As long as both of you are good for Grandma Olivia.”
They bobbed their heads, while Olivia’s attention moved past her daughter-in-law and to Clarise’s sister. “Babette, I almost didn’t recognize you with the long blond hair. It’s quite stunning, dear.”
“Thanks.” Babette noted the crisp winter white suit that perfectly accented Olivia’s classic creamy white waves. The look was something totally befitting Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada, except where Miranda Priestly’s face always held a hint of disdain toward the world in general, Olivia’s shone with kindness.
“Last time I saw you, you had a black bob, didn’t you? Actually, that looked very nice as well,” Olivia said with a smile, while Clarise gave the kids additional instructions on what to touch, or not to touch, when they saw the Christmas tree.
“I thought she looked like Jackie Kennedy then, didn’t you?” Granny Gert asked Olivia.
“Yes, I did,” Olivia agreed. “Oh, Babette, I wanted to compliment you on the work you did for the Fall catalog. Preston went on and on about the photos you took at the last shoot, and when I saw the finished product, I could see why. You really are an excellent photographer.”
“It helps that all of the Eubanks clothes are so incredible,” Babette said.
“Well, I’d agree with you there, though I know that the models help, too. However, I also know it takes a photographer with a good eye to capture the look my husband and his boys want for the business.”
His boys. Ethan and Jeff were thirty-eight, but still “boys” in Olivia’s eyes. Babette mentally willed Olivia to say something about Jeff’s engagement.
Didn’t happen.
“Preston mentioned you’d taken a new job at an assisted living center, but he said you’d still be able to shoot our catalogs,” Olivia said. “If we put out more than two catalogs a year, maybe your work with us could be something more than part time. Anyway, I’m glad to know that you can do both.”
Babette swallowed, nodded. Maybe Olivia wouldn’t ask for details about the new job. Thankfully, Lindy and Little Ethan chose that moment to grab her hands and begin tugging her from the table.
“Come on,” Little Ethan urged.
Olivia laughed, said her goodbyes, then let the twins lead her away, before Babette learned anything at all about Jeff and Kitty Carelle.
She turned back to Granny and Clarise, while the music died to a whisper as the group got to the “a little bit softer now” part.
“Oh, honey, you were fired again, weren’t you?” Granny asked, loudly.
Babette prayed that the “little bit louder” portion of the song got here soon, before everyone at the reception heard her job woes.
“It just happened yesterday. How did you hear already?” She really hadn’t wanted to discuss yet another job loss on her birthday.
Granny’s mouth curled in a bit, not quite a frown, but not far from it. “Oh, honey, no one told me. I could see it on your face when Olivia mentioned it.”
“I missed it, but I was looking at the kids,” Clarise said. “What happened?”
“Basically, I caused a fight between two guys in wheelchairs, then received a pink slip with yesterday’s paycheck.”
The corners of Granny Gert’s pink glossed lips gave up the fight and tugged all the way down in a full frown. “I don’t get it. You were doing great at the assisted living center. All of my friends there loved you. They said so, all the time. Why, Maud Lovett said just this week that they’d never had more fun with an activities director than with you.”
“So how, exactly, did you cause a wheelchair fight?” Clarise asked, and she had the good manners not to smile or laugh when she said it, quite a feat, when considering the image those words created: silver hair, slinging fists, and wheelchairs. An odd combination, for sure, but one that Babette had seen firsthand. Not pretty.
“Remember how I told you I thought Lambert Wiggins had his eye on one of the ladies from the quilting class?”