She’d never heard of any of the clothing, shoe and handbag designers they yammered on about ad nauseum. She’d never attended an opera or a Broadway play or the ballet. When Keely admitted she’d been to an art opening—namely her brother Carter’s—they’d rolled their eyes. “Western” art wasn’t real art.
Keely hadn’t anticipated Martine’s snideness. But it’d gone beyond Jack being her former lover type of jealousy. And Keely didn’t understand why Martine bothered to engage in the “Kelly is a low class bumpkin” attack if she believed Keely so far beneath her social stratosphere.
The meal, the insults, the sheer horror of the night dragged on. And on.
During a pause in the speaker’s program, Keely retreated to the ladies room, debating on whether she should cut bait and run. When she exited the stall, Martine was freshening her lipstick at the sink.
Keely couldn’t muster a smile. Or even meet Martine’s cruel eyes in the mirror. She washed her hands slowly, hoping Martine would leave.
No such luck.
Martine waited while Keely dried her hands. Naturally, they appeared to be the only ones in the bathroom.
“You won’t hold onto him, you know.”
Keely didn’t respond.
“I know Jack told you about me. About us. I’m sure he also told you I left him for his partner. But I’ll bet your frumpy dress he didn’t cough up the truth about why I left the gorgeous, sexy, charming Jack Donohue for an older man?”
For money hovered on the tip of Keely’s tongue.
Martine slithered closer and Keely forced herself to hold her ground. But she refused to look at her.
“Jack is a workaholic. I suspect he has something to prove because of his humble background. I didn’t mind his obsession with business when we were first together. He was so dynamic I forgave him.
Eventually I couldn’t continue to overlook the missed dinners. The broken plans. The ruined vacations. The last minute cancellations because he prioritized business over everything. He had few friends. He had nothing to do with his family. Jack is all about work. He will do absolutely anything to get ahead in this business.”
A strange tingle worked its way down Keely’s spine. Much as she hated to admit it, there was a lot of truth in that statement.
“When he deigned to spend time with me, he expected that time to be spent on my back in his bed.
Yes, Jack was an amazing lover, but I found his sexual appetite to be rather primitive and excessive. More kinky than I was willing to give him. I’ll bet he’s found that ‘anything goes’ dirty girl type of kink with you?”
Do not blush.
Martine sighed. “I can see by your stubborn silence you don’t believe me. I pity you. I’ve been where you are. I’m lucky Baxter could see I was unhappy whenever I went to Jack’s office and Jack wasn’t there.
Baxter treated me as I deserved, lavishing time and attention on me. He’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted. Baxter and I are well suited, which between us, bothered Jack far more than anything else about the situation. Jack knew no matter how much money he made or how successful he’d ever become, he’d always be trying to prove to everyone and to himself that he was good enough for me.”
Keely’s mouth fell open at Martine’s completely asinine assessment of Jack. But she finally met the snake eyes in the mirror. “You honestly believe if you and Jack would’ve stayed together, it would’ve been because he accepted he’d…married up?”
Her eyes were chips of ice. “Better than marrying down.” Those revulsion-filled eyes raked her head to toe. “Good God. Could you be any more of a country mouse? You don’t even know how to properly dress yourself for a business function. How embarrassing for Jack. He’s really scraping the bottom of the barrel with you, isn’t he?”
Bull’s-eye. Martine’s maliciousness torpedoed any remnant of Keely’s confidence.
“Don’t kid yourself he’ll actually go through with marrying you. Every year, it’s the same sad story.
Jack shows up at the conference with his latest piece of ass. Young. Hot. Oblivious. Everyone knows he’s trying to make me jealous. Trying to prove to his male colleagues what a stud he is. We all laugh. It’s so pathetic. I’m sure you noticed all the staring and whispering you attracted. This is a small community, and you’ll find no one will take the time to befriend you. What’s the point? This time next year you’ll be gone.”
Don’t cry. God, do not give this woman the satisfaction of seeing your tears.
Martine rearranged wisps of her hair in the mirror. “I feel sorry for you. You’re as gullible as you look and you’ve fallen hard for Jack’s charm. My best advice is to keep that ring he’s given you. It’ll buy you a new horse or repairs on your truck or whatever pitiful thing you need after he dumps your mousy ass back in Wyoming.” She twirled on her heel and flounced out.
Blood scorched Keely’s cheeks. A sick feeling of betrayal and finality settled deep in her bones. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to move. But she didn’t have the strength to stay either. Not in the bathroom, not in the hotel, not in Colorado. Not with Jack.
Go home. It’s where you belong. She felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, when the phrase “There’s no place like home” repeated in her head as she trudged back to the room.
In something of a daze, Keely changed her clothes and packed her suitcase. Rather than chancing running into anyone, she bypassed the elevators and hoofed it down the stairs to the garage level where she’d parked her truck. Oddly, it fit her frame of mind to discover she’d parked on the lowest level.
After she’d cleared the Denver city limits, she realized she was in no shape to drive to Sundance.
Holing up in hotel didn’t appeal to her. She didn’t want to see anyone she knew or talk to anyone she knew.
Confessing Martine’s degrading remarks would be bad enough. But hearing platitudes about how she shouldn’t let Martine’s insecurities affect her would be much worse.
Martine’s words had cut to the bone. Maybe they were just nasty barbs, but barbs stung whether the connection with them was intentional or accidental.
All Keely wanted was to reconnect with herself. To remember who she was.
On autopilot, she drove to the refuge she’d fled to the years she’d lived in Denver. She’d always found herself here. But before she climbed out of her truck, she curled up in the bench seat and cried.