The Perfect Host
Victims [part 2 of 8]
CW: Predatory male in position of power, sleazy behaviour. Reader beware, this story has dark themes in future chapters
Previously:
The party guests clogged up the driveway with their expensive cars, so Ruth parked her small Fiat down the lane and walked up to Mandy’s house. The frontage and garden was brightly, but tastefully, lit with uplighters, which showcased its grand proportions and the neatly trimmed box hedges which seemed to frame it.
So very different from her cottage, which was nondescript outside, but Ruth was proud how homely and comfortable it was inside, until the dratted pipe burst.
She didn’t have to knock at the door, it had been left on the latch. She pushed her way into the golden glow of the hall and let several conversations and soft music wrap their ambiance around her.
A couple of decades had passed since she first met Mandy, but her friend’s auburn hair was as striking and luxuriant as ever. She turned and saw Ruth standing by the front door, and immediately extricated herself from a conversation, to hurry over.
“Ruth darling! I’m so glad you’re here. Did you manage to contact a plumber?”
Mandy hugged her petite friend, while peppering her with questions about the burst pipes, and her insurance situation. She eased Ruth’s coat off and stowed it, along with the suitcase she’d brought, in a nearby cupboard.
“Well, you can’t do any more tonight.” She soothed. “Try to put all that out of your mind, and relax. Everything will look better after a glass of bubbly.”
Mandy was a consummate host, and Ruth was soon holding a flute of champagne and a small plate of delicious-looking hors d’oeuvres. She nodded and smiled as her friend introduced her to an attractive older woman who boasted that she’d been selling houses for over thirty years. Ruth listened with polite interest as the woman spoke about property prices and desirable locations. It wasn’t necessary to do much other than provide an audience, which allowed Ruth to take grateful bites of the cheesy pastries and tomato bruschetta on her plate.
Their conversation was interrupted by a man dressed in pristine black jeans and a dark, cashmere polo neck, who offered to top up their glasses. Ruth shook her head, having barely taken a sip so far, but her companion smiled toothily and proffered her glass.
“Lovely party, Xander,” the realtor breathed, fluttering false eyelashes in a way that only she thought looked sensual.
He returned the woman’s smile smoothly.
“You must be Ruth.”
It felt every bit the question it was, and when she answered in the affirmative, Xander flicked his attention to full beam, giving Ruth a tickle of unease.
“Do you have everything you need?”
Colour and heat crept up her neck, but she forced herself to return his smile with a cool one.
“Yes, thank you. I hope I won’t be leaning on your hospitality for too long.”
“Don’t worry, it’s an open house for as long as you need.”
Xander’s smile did not reach his eyes. He moved off to freshen other people’s glasses from the magnum he held.
“Darling man. I’ve known him a long time,” Ruth’s companion gushed.
Her eyes seemed riveted to Xander’s rear view as he moved through the guests.
“I went to school with Mandy,” Ruth explained, letting her gaze rest on her friend in the melee. “She was always very popular, but she took me under her wing.”
As she watched Mandy smile, laugh and chat with the party guests, she was reminded that, even as a teenager, her friend found social interactions a breeze. As captain of the tennis team and aspiring art student, Mandy had walked a tightrope of contradictions, but she managed to keep everyone onside.
Ruth and Mandy – they made an odd couple back then, Ruth being shy and studious. But Mandy was adamant she could only be herself with Ruth, who she regarded as a touchstone.
They had stayed in touch via e-mail, and met for lunch a few times a year, but this was the first time their two worlds had collided. Now Ruth had an opportunity to admire her friend’s beautiful home, and observe for herself the life Mandy described as idyllic.
As a writer, Ruth was both adept at reading between the lines, and an astute judge of character, and something under the surface of Mandy’s world seemed off. She wanted to be wrong, but whatever was going awry, Ruth intended to be there for her friend, if support was needed.
When Ruth surfaced the next morning, the house was quiet and still. She gravitated towards the kitchen, with its promise of a kettle and tea, and was astonished to find all evidence of last night’s socialising already cleared away.
She had to open several cupboards to locate the breakfast tea, then made herself a steaming mug, leaving the bag in and adding the milk last, so that it brewed nice and strong. Ruth took her drink through to a large, comfy room that offered a panoramic view of the garden. Ruth’s batteries began to recharge as she sipped tea, admiring the topiary bushes, herbaceous borders and the distant outlines of tall trees.
Ruth’s imagination was drifting pleasantly when her reverie was interrupted by the arrival of Xander, bristling with energy and glowing with sweat. He was checking a watch or pulse monitor on his wrist, then asked if she’d slept well, without meeting her eyes.
“Yes, thank you, it’s a comfortable bed. Have you been for a run?”
“Fartlek training,” he corrected, getting himself a glass of water.
Ruth nodded, not exactly sure what that entailed, but hoping he wouldn’t explain. She kept fit by walking and gardening, but Xander seemed the type to be competitive, even with himself.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked. “I start the day with a green smoothie, I could make you one if you’d like.”
“Just tea,” Ruth answered, raising her mug. “But that’s all I ever have in the morning,”.
Xander regarded her as if she’d just confessed to eating slugs. He seemed like he might have pointed out the error of her ways, but at that moment Mandy descended the stairs.
“Morning darling. Morning Ruth,” her smile was a warm welcome, relaxing Ruth instantly.
“I’ll make us some proper coffee, shall I?” She offered her friend a conspiratorial smile.
Xander was oblivious to the jibe at his healthy drink, and continued to chop vegetables and leaves which he added to the blender.
“I’m taking the morning off,” Mandy told her husband, over the clink of china cups. “It had always been my plan, in case I had a sore head. So now I can help Ruth settle in.”
“Up to you darling, but it’s best to show your face at some point every day, check your in-box for orders, yadda-yadda.”
Mandy studied Xander and nodded, as if he’d imparted great wisdom, then poured cups of strong, black coffee for herself and Ruth.
“You’ll probably work while you’re here, won’t you Ruth?” She turned inquiringly to her friend. “What’s your routine? Or do you just write when the muse strikes you?”
“I try to write two thousand words a day,” Ruth replied, “I usually write best after lunch, but some days I do less, because I allocate time for editing and research.”
“I’m grabbing a shower then heading out.”
Xander interrupted. He had finished his power shake. Now he kissed his wife on the top of the head, before hurrying upstairs.
“Don’t mind him,” Mandy wrinkled her nose. “His routine is sacrosanct. Being flexible and going with the flow gives him hives,” she laughed. “I’m fascinated by your creative process.”
Ruth shrugged, showing she wasn’t offended. If she was totally honest, she was delighted to be with Mandy one on one.
They spent a pleasant morning, with Mandy showing Ruth around her workspace. It was a large airy room fitted with pigeon holes and cubbies, cartons of packaging and a big counter, where she could store and ship the decorating curios she found at house clearances, yard sales and charity shops. Mandy had always had an eye for beautiful things, now she seemed to be making money from finding treasure where you’d least expect it.
“I love what you sell,” Ruth was full of admiration.
“Any of these would be beautiful enhancements to my humble home - whatever’s left of it once the leak is repaired,” she amended ruefully.
“But I’m puzzled. Your home decor is quite different, very modern and pristine.”
She studied her friend’s face, hoping she hadn’t caused offence. But Mandy just smiled and shrugged.
“I’m a chameleon, I can decorate in any aesthetic. This house is an extension of Xander. He likes to showcase the latest building trends, so I style our home in a way that compliments them. Nothing here holds meaning for me, it’s all window dressing.”
She made a dismissive gesture.
“What I sell has heart,” she continued. “Some people who buy it are connoisseurs. I have many loyal customers who tell me what they are looking for, and I trawl the internet to source it. I charge a finder’s fee, but I glean great satisfaction from tracking down curios to order.
“Xander doesn’t understand that aspect, but so long as he sees my business making a profit, he’s happy.”
“Bring up the text for the brochure Lindy,” Xander told his secretary, moving up behind her chair and leaning over her shoulder.
The young woman’s spine stiffened at his close proximity, but her fingers flew over the keyboard, creating a new tab and opening the document.
Xander slipped his glasses from the top of his head onto his nose. As he re-read the wording he’d paid someone else to write, he massaged Lindy’s shoulders, oblivious that she’d frozen under his uninvited touch.
“Bring that bit out in bold please sweetheart,” he purred, pointing at the screen with a stubby finger.
Lindy complied, with her heart jumping in her chest.
Xander continued to read through the text, pausing to ask his PA to make other minor adjustments.
Sweat pricked at Lindy’s armpits as he leaned against the back of her chair and kept one hand territorially on her shoulder.
“Your hair smells lovely,” Xander commented, lifting a few blonde curls to his nose.
Lindy gripped the computer mouse so hard, her knuckles went white.
An alert sounded on Xander’s phone and immediately dropped the strands of her hair to snatch it from his pocket and check the caller ID.
“Carl,” he said expansively, “I hope you enjoyed yourself last night.”
“Send that to the printer,” Xander mouthed at Lindy as he moved into his office, shutting the door behind him.
Lindy released a gust of air from her lungs. Pulling the silk scrunchy off her wrist, she tied back her hair with a shudder. Saved by the bell, she thought to herself as she pulled up the email address for Pronto Printing, attached the revised version of the document, and pressed send.