Chapter Text
Riley looks at her watch, and swears under her breath. She’s sitting in bumper to bumper traffic, officially late for her father’s retirement party. Her phone rings, and she lets out a frustrated sigh as she clicks to answer it.
“Hi Mom,” she says, taking a deep breath.
“Honey, where on earth are you?! You said you’d be here early and now here you are, late.”
“I know, I know. There’s an accident on the highway. It says...25 minutes away.”
“Twenty five minutes! Oh my gosh. Okay, okay well you just get here as soon as you can. Oh, oh the Caldwells have just arrived.
“The Caldwells were invited?”
“Yes, of course they were. We’ve known them for ages!”
“Who’s there?” Riley asks suspiciously.
“Well Tipper and Ted of course. Jane, and oh. Looks like Harper is here with her...friend, Abby.”
Riley rolls her eyes.
“Oh and Sloane just walked in. Without Eric of course. Such a shame about those two, but we really can’t talk about that now. Just hurry up.”
Click.
Riley leans forward and places her forehead on the steering wheel. Great, the whole damn gang is there. Just what she needed.
She finally pulls up to the house, finding absolutely nowhere to park and has to circle the block. She parks and steps out of the car, taking a deep, cleansing breath, and straightens out her shirt. She looks at herself quickly in the slightly warped reflection of her window - burgundy Tom Ford suit, black lace blouse. She double checks all her buttons are done up correctly, and fusses with her hair. She grabs her gift out of the trunk and begins walking toward the house. It’s cooler out than she thought for a May evening, and wishes she had brought a coat.
She opens the door, greeted by music and chatter. She slips through the door unnoticed, and begins walking toward the back of the house. Before she reaches the crowd, Abby pops out of the first floor powder room.
“Hey!” she says, startled.
Riley smiles politely. “We meet again.”
“I was wondering when you were going to get here,” Abby says, looking relieved.
“I didn’t even know you were coming!” Riley says, laughing.
“Surprise,” Abby says, making a gesture with her hands.
“Alcohol?” Riley asks, motioning toward the kitchen.
“Please,” Abby replies, joining her.
They pour themselves a glass of wine, clinking them together ceremoniously.
“So,” Abby says. “How are you?”
Riley shrugs. “You know, fine.”
Abby laughs. “I’ve actually been meaning to, you know, reach out to you.”
“Oh?” Riley asks, sipping her wine, watching Abby carefully.
“Yeah, I...thought we had a good time at Christmas. Despite, you know, everything that went down. I was hoping perhaps we could continue our...friendship.”
Riley smiled coyly. “Are you asking to be my friend, Abigail?”
Abby shifted on her feet. “I mean, yeah. I guess I am. Is that weird?” She laughed nervously.
“On the contrary,” Riley said. “I was under the assumption we already were.”
“Cool,” Abby replied, pulling her lips into a sideways smile. “Cool cool cool.”
“There you are,” Harper said, coming into the kitchen. “Oh, Riley! Hi, uh, nice to see you.”
Harper leaned in and hugged Riley awkwardly.
“You as well. I was just saying to Abby here I didn’t know you guys were coming tonight.”
“Well, it’s a big achievement of Ed’s! Retirement, he deserves it.”
Riley nodded.
“Well that and my mother told us we absolutely had to come,” Harper added, smiling.
“Yes, and I hear the whole Caldwell clan is here, is that right?”
Harper laughed. “Yes, Jane and Sloane as well.”
“I don’t hear the shrill laughter of small children, does that mean Sloane’s kids were ceremoniously uninvited?”
Harper shrugs. “Well, I don’t know about that. But I believe they’re with Eric this weekend.”
“Hmm,” Riley saya, glancing into the other room. She spots Sloane, slender and poised, talking to one of her mother’s friends. She's wearing an elegant, albeit kind of sexy, navy blue dress. Her hair is down, slightly wavy, longer than the last time she’d seen her. She could see Sloane touching the spot where her wedding ring used to sit, absentmindedly as she speaks. She looks good, considering.
It had never really occurred to Riley that Sloane was, for all intents and purposes, very attractive. Of course, the Caldwells were generally a good looking family, and Riley had at one point had her eyes set on Harper all those years ago but there was something about Sloane that caught her eye just now. She examined her for just a moment longer, her eyes lingering somewhere along her collarbone. Then she notices Sloane looking back at her, and Riley darts her gaze away quickly.
“So, how are you?” Harper asks Riley, taking Abby’s glass of wine and having a sip.
“Uh, good. Yeah. Busy. Work, you know. The glamorous life of a resident doctor.”
“No date tonight?” Abby asks, flicking her eyebrows.
“I’m not sure if my father’s retirement party is exactly on the top of people’s list for fun date ideas.” Riley says.
“So, no girlfriend then?” Harper asks.
“What are you, my mother?” Riley retorts, taking a gulp of her wine.
“That’s a no,” Harper says, turning to Abby.
“No need for bleeding hearts, you two. I do just fine.” Riley winks. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must announce myself before my mother has a conniption over my absence.” She slides away past Harper and Abby and makes her way into the other room. She spots her mother, and places her arm gently on her shoulder.
“Hello mummy dearest,” she says, leaning in to peck her on the cheek.
“Oh Riley! Good you’ve arrived. I was starting to get worried.”
“Yes, I was just catching up with Harper and Abby in the kitchen. But I’m here now. Where’s Dad?”
“Oh he’s gone out back with some of his golfing friends for a cigar. You know, I really wish he wouldn’t but it’s his day. I’ll let him have this one.”
“Benevolent as always,” Riley says, smirking. She glances around the room, spotting Sloane once again who was now tapping away at her phone, frow burrowed. Feeling slightly emboldened by the quick work she’d made of her wine, she heads over in her direction.
“Sloane Caldwell,” Riley says as she approaches.
Sloane glances up from her phone, her brow relaxing. A polite, insincere, well-trained smile spread across her face. “Riley Bennett.”
“I didn’t expect to see you and your whole cohort here this evening. A pleasure to have you though, as always.”
“Mm, thank you, yes. Your father has certainly earned a celebration. Forty years at the same company, that’s quite something.”
“Indeed,” Riley says, her eyes meeting Sloane's. "So, how are you?" She asks, casually.
Sloane's eyes narrow. "Fine, thank you." Icy. Guarded. Completely on brand.
"Well that's good," Riley glances over her shoulder. "Can I get you a drink, or…"
"Oh, no. That's not necessary. I can help myself."
"Sure thing," Riley tilts back on her heels. "Well, uh, I might go find my dad outside. Should probably say hi to him." Riley raises her eyebrows, smiling slightly.
"Yes, right of course. I believe he's smoking the cigars my father brought him."
"Oh, so it's Ted's fault my mother is upset about my father smoking then. Trouble makers!"
Sloane laughs politely. "I suppose so, yes."
"Are they Cubans at least?" Riley asks suggestively.
Sloane shakes her head. "I don't think it would be very appropriate for my father, who has run for public office, to be smuggling illegal cigars into the state."
"I didn't ask if it was appropriate…" Riley says playfully.
"To my knowledge, no they're not."
"Sure,” Riley winks exaggeratedly. “I'll go investigate. See you in a bit?" She doesn't mean to state this as a question, but there it is, hanging between them.
"I'm sure I'll be here somewhere," Sloane says flatly.
They exchange a glance, one Riley interprets as mutual curiosity. Sloane certainly was curious why Riley Bennett, her sister's high school crush and otherwise peripheral acquaintance struck up a conversation with her this evening. Not that she minds, necessarily. She didn't feel any particular way about Riley, but she did take notice of her musky scent, which she found kind of alluring...woody and bold. She'd never really noticed Riley before, she was always kind of just there, drifting about. What she did know of her was probably outdated, or small menial updates by way of her mother. A doctor, she knew. What speciality, it's unclear. A lesbian, certainly. Sarcastic, mysterious, well-dressed. She lived in...Baltimore? Still at Johns Hopkins, she assumed. No partner, it would appear. That’s about it. She watches Riley walk away, a kind of swagger to her walk that was charming in its own way. Huh , she thinks. Riley Bennett .
It wouldn't be the first woman Sloane had ever had a "huh" thought about. She'd had a few "experimental" moments in college, and of course there was that time Eric and she were entertaining the idea of a threesome in some desperate attempt to save their marriage. But of course, nothing ever came of those things. It wasn't something that even crossed her mind frequently. But in this moment, watching Riley walk away, her scent lingering in the space between them now, she hesitated to admit that she felt something stir .
Sloane is soon joined by her sister, Jane. “Well this is a nice party,” Jane says cheerfully, popping an appetizer into her mouth.
“Yes, it is.” Sloane is still tapping through her phone.
“Are you working right now?” Jane asks, a disapproving look on her face.
“Sort of,” Sloane says, distracted.
“You’re being a bore,” Jane taunts.
Sloane shoots Jane a sideways glance. She sees the eager smile on her face, and decides to be nice. She clicks her phone off and places it at her side. “Okay, you have my attention now Jane. What is it?”
Jane wiggles her eyebrows. “I overheard Abby and Riley talking about being friends!” She grins excitedly.
Sloane looks at Jane, expressionless. “And?”
“Well, don’t you think it’s nice? After everything last year at Christmas, and how Harper and Riley….you know…” Jane tapped her elbow against Sloane’s arm suggestively.
Sloane rolled her eyes. “Truthfully, Jane. I actually know very little about that.”
“Oh, Sloane. Don’t play dumb. We know they had a little fling .”
“Jane, that was in high school. We can’t possibly be held to the standards of who we were as teenagers.”
“So, does that mean you’re renouncing your title as valedictorian?”
Sloane’s mouth twitched. “Well, I didn’t say that.”
Jane laughed. “Anyway, all I’m saying is that I think it’s nice. I like Abby!”
“I do, too. I think it’s gracious of her to have...forgiven me for my behavior that evening. I was not myself.”
“Yeah, you were on a level,” Jane said, gently patting Sloane’s arm. Sloane glanced down and shifted slightly, avoiding Jane’s patronizing touch.
“I’ve recovered,” she said coolly.
“And, you know, I like Riley too. She’s kind of cool and mysterious. And a snazzy dresser!”
Sloane glances sideways at Jane as she says this. “Yes, I suppose so. Hadn’t really noticed.”
“I saw you talking to her, you must have noticed her suit. I like the colour. It looks expensive.”
“Yes, we were chatting briefly. Simple hellos, small talk. It’s the polite thing to do.”
Jane frowned, inquisitively. “Yeah, I figured.”
“How long do you think mother expects us to stay here?” Sloane said, changing the subject, looking around the room.
“Well, it’s nearly 8:00 now. So hopefully not much longer. I am hoping to get back to a piece I am working on right now.”
“Oh?” Sloane says, only half listening now as she sees Riley come back into the house from the backyard.
“Yes, well, it’s kind of only in sketch form right now. But I think it will turn out quite nicely.”
“That’s great,” Sloane says, watching Riley as she chats with some people she doesn’t know.
Riley glances in Sloane’s direction, and sees her eyes dart away back to Jane. Riley hides a smirk, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looks down into her now empty wine glass.
“Would you excuse me,” she says to her father’s former colleague (Bob? Bill? Something with a B) “I need a top up.” She glides past him and into the kitchen bar. She stands around, waiting for a few others to finish pouring a drink, smiling politely at them. She hears the calm tap of heels on the ceramic floor behind her. Her ears perk up, curious, intrigued. She doesn’t dare turn her head to investigate.
“I’ll take that drink now, Bennett,” Sloane says, her tone void of any inflection.
Riley glances over as Sloane appears at her side. “And what will that be, this evening?”
Sloane surveys the selection of wine and spirits. “A glass of Pinot Noir will be fine, thank you.”
Riley reaches over and grabs a fresh wine glass, pouring into it from the bottle. She hands it to Sloane before turning to do the same with her own glass.
“You smell like cigars,” Sloane says, taking a sip.
Riley shrugs. “I was smokin’ with the boys,” she says in a put-on gruff accent.
“It’s taken over your perfume...Oud?”
Riley flashes Sloane a quick look. Interesting.
“Close. Santal 33.”
Sloane nods, putting on an air of nonchalance.
“And what are you wearing this evening,” Riley leans in ever so slightly, inhaling. “Baccarat Rouge?”
Sloane’s tongue appears in her mouth, twisting slightly against her teeth. “Yes, actually.”
Riley flicks her eyebrows triumphantly. “They call me Jean-Baptiste Grenouille.” She smiles coyly.
“The scentless apprentice,” Sloane muses.
Riley laughs. “Don’t tell me Sloane Caldwell listens to Nirvana.”
Sloane rolls her eyes. “Hardly. I am, however, well read. I recall enjoying Perfume in one of my lit classes in college.”
“Ah yes, another impressive thing about you. I’ll add it to my list.”
“You keep a running tab of my accomplishments, Bennett? That’s odd.” Sloane cocks her head ever so slightly to one side.
Riley smirks. “Oh yes, I keep very detailed notes on all the Caldwells. For research purposes.”
Sloane sighs dramatically “Oh, ha-ha.”
“You should see what I’ve got on Harper,” Riley says snidely, biting her lower lip.
Sloane squares her shoulders. “I can only imagine.”
Just then, Sloane’s phone begins to vibrate. She glances at it, then back at Riley. “I’ve got to take this, sorry. It’s my children.”
Riley holds up her hand. “Please, of course.”
Sloane’s eyes linger on Riley’s face for a moment, and Riley is almost positive they glance down at her lips. Riley smiles and Sloane turns, walking briskly to find a quiet spot.
If I didn’t know any better, Riley thought to herself. I might think Sloane Caldwell was flirting with me.
Shortly after cake and speeches, some of which ran entirely too long and seemed to be ad libbed as a result of a few too many whiskeys, the guests began to filter out. Riley glanced at her watch - 10:30pm - and stifled a yawn. She was looking forward to having some time to unwind as soon as this party dissipated. She was surprised to see the Caldwell’s were all still here, though she’d had a good time chatting with Abby and Harper, and it was nice to see them happy together here.
Riley was tidying up a few stray glasses, when Abby approached her. “Hey, uh, I think we are all heading out. Just wanted to say goodbye.”
Riley smiled. “Oh right of course. I’ll come walk you guys out.” Riley wiped her hands on a dish towel and followed Abby to the front door. Her mother and father were already there, hugging Tipper and Ted goodbye.
Sloane slipped on her Burberry trench coat, tying it around the waist. Riley glanced in her direction, catching her eye.
“Nice jacket,” she said, nodding.
“Thank you,” Sloane replied. “I’ve had it for years.”
“An heirloom,” Riley mused. “Something to leave the little ones.”
Sloane laughed politely. “Perhaps.” They exchanged a glance as everyone said their goodbyes next to them.
“Oh, yes that reminds me. I’m planning a little something in August at our summer home. I think you’ve been, yes?”
Riley nods, intrigued.
“Just a little something for my parents’ wedding anniversary. Thirty five years, if you can believe. Where shall I send your invitation?”
Riley’s lips curled into a slight smirk. “I can just text you my address.”
Sloane’s eyebrows twitched. “Oh, do you have my phone number?”
“I do not.” Riley replied, not breaking their eye contact.
Sloane pulled at the lapels on her jacket. “Well, I believe Abby has it. Feel free to get it from her and send that over when it’s convenient.”
“No problem,” Riley said. “Lovely to see you,” she said, extending her hand, palm up.
Sloane looked down at Riley’s outstretched hand, pausing, thinking for a moment. She places her manicured hand into it softly, their hands grasping into a handshake that’s not quite formal, but not quite familiar either.
“Goodnight,” Sloane says, slipping her hand from Riley’s grasp, her eyes darting over to Riley’s parents. She slips by Riley, hugging them both, before turning to walk out the door.
Riley watches after them all, curious, for some unknown reason, to see if Sloane glances back. Looking for any indication that there was, indeed, a buzz between them that night. Sloane does not look back.
Once settled in her childhood bedroom for the evening, not wanting to make the trek back to the city at this hour, Riley types a hurried message to Abby.
RILEY: Hey, great to see you tonight. Glad you could make it. Can you send me Sloane’s phone number? She said something about needing my address for an invite to THE exclusive event of the summer season!
ABBY: Yeah, it was nice! It was great to catch up. And sure, no problem. Here you go.
There it was, Sloane Caldwell’s contact card. Riley’s thumb hovered over it for a moment. Why was she nervous? It’s nothing, literally a formality, logistics. She taps it, and saves Sloane to her contacts. She opens up a new message.
RILEY: Jean-Baptise Grenouille, 45 Crenshaw Blvd Baltimore, MD 21250
Moments later, a response:
SLOANE: Ha ha. Got it, thanks.
The text bubble emerged again. Then disappeared. Riley found herself waiting in anticipation, curious what else Sloane could possibly have to say. Nothing more appeared. Riley sighed, shaking her head at herself, and flipped her phone over on the nightstand, flicking off the light.
Meanwhile, in her posh uptown bedroom, Sloane sat staring at her phone, thumbs twitching. What exactly was she waiting for? A response? She didn’t quite give Riley much to work with. What a silly little exchange. Meaningless, inconsequential even. She saved the address and phone number to her phone, and placed it on her tabletop charging station. She placed her black satin eye mask over eyes and laid back, convinced she’ll hardly even recall this strange little evening in the morning.
She, of course, was wrong.