Page 85 of Brewbies
“Correct,” Darby said. “It’s actually sort of funny when you think about it.”
“How so?” Caryn asked, her face completely free of anything resembling amusement.
“Well, here you are attempting to pick up a musician from out of town, and Ethan goes out of town and accidentally picks up somebody from Townsend Harbor.”
“BeingfromTownsend Harbor is very different than livinginTownsend Harbor,” Caryn said carefully.
“So I hear,” Darby said, unable to keep the trace of bitterness out of her voice. “When I bought the property from your real estate agent, I anticipated potential pushback, but damned if I thought it would create enough drama to necessitate an entire protest.”
Caryn drained the last of her nearly empty drink. “Talk to me when you start receiving burning bags of dog feces on your doorstep.”
Darby had been so wound up about not incurring Caryn’s wrath that she’d nearly forgotten Caryn had once been the target of the town’s ire.
“I mean, the least they could do is come up with something original,” Darby said.
Caryn’s snort almost sounded like solidarity. “The cradle of originality, Townsend Harbor is not.”
“Did you know that someone actually climbed onto the top of my camper and placed a custom-made black censorship bar over my ti—er—logo?”
Caryn rolled her eyes on a gusty sigh. “Ridiculous.”
“How much you want to bet that if it were male-owned establishment objectifying women as opposed to a woman voluntarily displaying her own body, half of those protesters would have been home sipping decaf and watchingJeopardy?”
Caryn’s perfectly matte lips tightened for a moment, and Darby thought she might have blown it.
“Amazing how ready the public is to forgive men with money. So long as they mumble the lamest of apologies and carry out their indiscretions quietly.”
“It’s almost like you met my weasel of an ex,” Darby said.
“If you’ve met one philanderer, you’ve met them all.” Their server appeared, and Darby felt an odd surge of satisfaction when Caryn ordered another drink as opposed to asking for her check.
She debated reminding Caryn of her appointment but held off in the end, afraid to break their exceedingly tenuous connection.
“You too?’ she asked, before finishing the last of her drink in preparation for the next.
Caryn nodded. “It wasn’t as if I didn’t know better. Before he cheated on me, he cheatedwithme. And I was foolish enough to think that I was different. I believe they call that karma.”
“I believe they call that being human,” Darby said.
“A naïve human, maybe. Ethan’s father was a decade older. A good deal more sophisticated.”
Looking at the woman seated across the table from her, Darby felt it hard to believe that anybody could be more sophisticated than Caryn Townsend.
“How did you meet?” she asked before pausing to consider whether it would be a painful question to answer.
“A political fundraiser. He had his sights set on Congress before he became the mayor.”
Darby could see it all in a blink. Ethan’s father, a good-looking young man from a well-connected, wealthy family, expecting to coast into his seat of power. Outraged and confused when it disappeared right from beneath his ass. Downsizing his dream. Ethan Townsend senior had made one call right: Caryn Townsend would have made an exquisite first lady in any office.
“I put my MBA on hold to help with his campaign, but then we married and I got pregnant with Ethan, and there just didn’t seem to be much point in finishing it.” She shrugged.
“It’s not too late, you know,” Darby said, then took a sip of the fresh drink that had arrived while Caryn spoke.
Caryn lifted hers as well. “I’m afraid that ship has sailed, as they say.”
“When I was in law school, one of my classmates was a sixty-year-old former housewife with five grown children. She’s a DA in Chicago now.”
Something flickered behind Caryn’s eyes. “To what point?”
