Intimate Betrayal Read Free Page B

laurels until the thing is actually built.” His eyes slid away from hers and he appeared more nervous than
     usual. Annie noticed that he was staring at Francesca Carlyle, with whom he had recently been dancing. He hadn’t looked gloomy
     while dancing with Francesca—on the contrary, he’d been remarkably animated.
    “With a project so big,” he added, “things are bound to go wrong.”
    While this was undoubtedly true, it wasn’t something that Annie relished thinking about. As project manager, she had a lot
     riding on the successful completion of the cathedral.
    She and Sidney danced past Sam Brody, who once again had the now very obviously drunken Francesca in his arms. She was giggling
     and tossing her head. As Annie caught Sam’s eye, he grimaced slightly as if to say, “get me out of here.”
    Annie grinned at him. Francesca in her sober state had personally contributed heavily to the building fund of the United Path
     Church, and she was chairwoman of the building committee. Without her support there would be no cathedral. So, Sam had to
     make nice.
    Sidney glared at Francesca and Sam. A tiny suspicion stirred in Annie’s head—was Sidney attracted to Francesca? In love with
     her? Involved with her? It seemed unlikely, but there had been rumors for years that the Carlyles’ marriage was rocky.
    As the dance tune finished, Annie smiled at Sidney and said, “Thanks, that was lovely.” But as she tried to back away from
     him, he seized her hand.
    “I’m worried about this project. Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.
    Annie had no wish to be subjected to a long list of Sidney’s unsubstantiated fears, but neither did she want to ignore a legitimate
     concern.
    “What, exactly, are you worried about?”
    “Just some details, but they could prove important.”
    But somebody was pinging a glass with a knife, calling foreverybody’s attention. Annie was grateful for the interruption. When Sid got going on “details,” he never stopped.
    The glass-pinger was Matthew Carlyle, who had stepped up in front of the band to make an announcement. His wife was leaning
     against the wall to his left, her skinny arms wrapped around her middle. She looked a bit ill. Annie hoped she wasn’t about
     to pass out or throw up.
    “This is a special day for my wife, as you all know, and we’re delighted that you could share it with us,” Carlyle began.
     “Francesca, I know, is particularly happy to have so many of her friends here, and we thank you all for coming.”
    Sidney, standing right next to Annie, made a low sound in his throat. Annie glanced at him and noted that he was now glowering
     at the Carlyles. Francesca too was behaving strangely. As her husband spoke, she fidgeted and looked bored. In her business
     and charitable dealings, Francesca was invariably courteous and very much in control. But Annie had heard whispers about a
     drinking problem, and Francesca had certainly overdone it tonight.
    Francesca and Sidney? Nah,
she thought.
    “When I first suggested we give this party,” Carlyle went on, “my lovely wife was reluctant. The money could be spent in some
     more useful way, she said, and earmarked for a far worthier and less frivolous cause than, as she put it, a socialite’s meaningless
     birthday. But, as you’re all aware, Francesca devotes so much of her time and money to worthy causes. She does so without
     fanfare and, often, without taking personal credit for the many people she helps. For that, she deserves something back, and
     on this occasion, at least, I believe a little fanfare is appropriate.”
    Francesca stepped forward, prematurely it seemed, sinceher husband appeared to be about to continue speaking. Pushing in front of him, she glared at him and said, “Oh, for God’s
     sake, cut the crap, Matt.”
    The room grew even more hushed than it had been. Carlyle took his wife’s arm, as if to restrain her, but she jerked away from
     him. “Let’s stop kidding