The Divorce Party

Eve drills her with a look. “So you do know?” she says, and she looks defiant, suddenly, and annoyed even, like she is the one who has been tricked. Like she is the one who has been wronged. And maybe, in this moment, that is the truth.

“Of course I know, Eve,” Gwyn says. “Why do you think you’re here?”

Eve looks beside herself, and Gwyn can see her looking at the door longingly as if wondering whether she can make a run for it. Gwyn steps in front of it to block the way. That way, at least.

“This is crazy,” she says. “You’re crazy.”

“It’s possible, and probably good news for you if it’s true.”

“Why?”

“Because that will make it easier one day when you feel bad about all of this, when you are a little more sure of yourself, when you would never dream of getting involved in someone’s marriage. It will make you feel better about what you’ve done. Or that’s giving you too much credit. What you’ve helped do.”

“Whatever issues you have, you should take them up with Thomas. He’s the one you should be talking to.”

“Believe me, I will. But you still need to stay for a minute and hear me out. I still need that from you. Can you do that for me?”

Eve doesn’t answer her, but she does move away from the door, goes and sits at the table and so Gwyn goes back to the counter, and starts to unwrap the tray of mushroom caps. There must be tons of other trays in the van to get to, but they will get there.

Once Eve is handled. “Thank you, Eve,” Gwyn says.

“You’re welcome.”

Gwyn finishes taking the layer of film off the container. “My goodness, these smell great!” She leans in closer. “Did you use dill? That’s such an interesting choice.”

“Yes, a marinade of dill and pineapple.”

“Pineapple too?” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“It’s my mother’s recipe.”

“Sara Stone. Old Coast Road. Big Sur, California.”

Eve gives her a look, but Gwyn just ignores it and looks back at her—into her eyes, which are bright blue, and sad. This close up, there is no denying it.

“Eve, this is not about blame,

okay? Or at least this is not about blaming you. It is my husband who has betrayed me. He is the one who decided to break up our marriage. I’m clear on that. You didn’t promise to stand by me thirty-five years ago. And you aren’t the one who should be held responsible for what he has caused here. Or . . . not mostly.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“There are many reasons that I need you to cover this party tonight. Believe it or not, it’s not only for my benefit.”

“So it’s for my benefit?”

“Partially.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You don’t strike me as a saver. And when my husband leaves you, which he will, you are going to be distraught. You are going to want to get far away from here, and him, and anything that has to do with this time in your life. Maybe you’ll want to go back to Big Sur. Who knows? The money you are making tonight will make it possible for you to leave.”

Eve shakes her head. “This is too weird.”

“Many things are, yes.”

Eve folds her arms across her chest—thinking about it, really thinking about it. “In all fairness, I have to say that I think Thomas is going to choose to continue honoring our love.”

“Of course you think that. Why wouldn’t you? My husband thinks that. He is so certain about it, in fact, that he is willing to lie to his entire family in order to guarantee it.”