Wicked Forest (DeBeers 2)

"Thatcher Eaton, you rogue," she shouted. She nodded at me. "How dare you do something like this without giving me fair warning?"

Taken aback. I looked to Thatcher, who sat with a wide, self-satisfied grin slashed across his face.

"Somehow, I knew a little bird would be whispering in your ear. Suzy. Willow. this is Suzy Q. the most important and influential society columnist in Palm Beach."

"I'll need a picture or two," she said as if we had nothing to say about it. She nodded to her photographer, who started to snap the photos. -Put your arm around her shoulders. Thatcher. Make it look as real as you can," she ordered.

"It is real," he said, and lifted my hand to show her the engagement ring.

She tilted her head and pulled in the corners of her thickly painted lips. I thought she looked like a walking billboard advertisement for cosmetic surgery. Her nose was clipped. Her eyes were pulled so tightly. I wondered if she was able to close them at night, and her chin looked tucked under so snugly, I had real doubt that she could swallow anything. Her gaudy blond hair hung straight down beside her cheeks like strands of plastic.

"All right," she told the photographer. "that's enough. So give me the scoop, darling." she said, shoving what looked like a miniature tape recorder in our faces. "Where did you two meet?"

"Wasn't it in southern France? Nice?" he asked me.

"It was nice. but it wasn't Nice." I said, and we both laughed.

"I'm going to get all the nitty-gritty anyway, darling, so why play games with Suzy Q?"

"She's right. Willow. There is no point trying to hide anything from her. She has eyes everywhere. behind the highest walls.

Even Donald Trump isn't safe." He turned back to her. "Willow is my landlady." Thatcher said.

Suzy raised her eyebrows and looked at me. "Really?"

-She owns Joya del Mar. I figured if I married her. I'd get a break on the rent,- he said.

Suzy Q dropped her gullible expression quickly, and dropped her tape recorder into the small black leather purse hanging at the end of a strap over her shoulder,

-All right. Mr. Smarty-pants. I'll go round up my usual sources and get the truth, or something that closely resembles it. You'll have to take your chances."

"Isn't that what everyone appearing in your column does, Suzy?"

"Cute. Very cute. My dear," she said, turning to me. "you have my condolences. And my best wishes." she added with as warm a smile as she was capable of producing. I thought

"I'll be seeing you... everywhere." She made it sound more like a warning than a promise. She nodded to her photographer, and left the restaurant as quickly as she had burst into it.

Thatcher laughed. "Is it over yet?" I asked him.

"I think so, for now," he said, nodding, and signaled for our check.

Leaving was more difficult than entering since more people had arrived, seemingly because they had heard about Thatcher and me. I was introduced to nearly twice as many people on the way out as on the way in. By the time we got into the Rolls, I was exhausted and pretended to collapse.

"I feel pinched and squeezed, examined under microscopes, and tested for every known social disease. There are eve prints over my whole face," I complained, scrubbing my cheeks.

"I assure you, they weren't looking only at your face." Thatcher said.

"We might as well be in a giant fishbowl!"

"That's exactly what Palm Beach is." he said. laughing, "high society under glass."

I groaned and sank deeper into the seat.

"I hope you'll get your second wind," he said as we drove off. "The night is early, especially for us."

"Oh. Thatcher, we're not going to another Palm Beach nightspot, are we?" I moaned.

"No, we've done enough damage here," he said. "My mother and my sister will be on the phone all day tomorrow trying to field the questions and the comments. I've already made arrangements to be out of town so they won't be able to reach me. I'm taking a deposition dawn in Miami. Of course, with the speed of gossip reaching supersonic in this town, they could already be on the telephone, especially with each other. I can just hear Whitney calming and comforting our mother dean'. Dear old Dad will comfort himself with a Grey Goose vodka