Wrong Shade of Green
It was another day before Henry returned, and Mary spent the intervening hours simultaneously avoiding Tom while pretending last night's gin-soaked conversation had never happened. She'd had Papa take Tom off on some unnecessary errand in town and sat at her desk with her fingers pressed into her eyelids, desperate to remember the portions of what she'd said that were fuzzy in her memory. She cringed at the recollection of practically begging Tom to advise her on Henry, and the embarrassment of learning Tom and Henry had been at odds over her for years. The more she thought of it the worse it got. She groaned and dropped her head into her hands, certain of two things: she'd never be able to look Tom in the eye again, and when Henry deigned to show his face again she was going to do whatever necessary to set things right. This – all of this – needed to end.
"Mary?"
Mary peered between her fingers to see Faye Delaney in the doorway, looking fresh, bright, and decidedly not tortured or hungover. Mary stood quickly and straightened her jacket, thrown by the sudden intrusion. "Miss Delaney. Hello."
"Faye, please. I think we're past the need for formality, don't you?"
No. In fact-
"I'm not intruding am I?"
Mary plastered on her chilliest smile. "Of course not. What can I do for you? I'm afraid Tom's out at the moment."
"Excellent. I'm actually here to see you."
"Why?"
Faye chuckled a little as she set her handbag on the desk and settled into one of the chairs opposite. "You're important to Tom, so I thought it was time we got to know each other. I came to invite you out to lunch." She said all this so earnestly that Mary had a hard time catching up, but when she did, she wasn't certain she liked the implication. That Faye was interested in developing a relationship with Tom's family indicated things were more serious than Mary had believed.
You smell of her perfume... Mary's stomach churned as the memory of that whispered accusation returned to her. Oh God, what had possessed her? She felt like an absolute fool, which made her want to lash out at Faye Delaney's unwelcome invitation. She settled on launching a verbal assault in her head while forcing herself to agree to lunch. She needed to put an end to all of this uncertainty now, and the best way to do it would be to show support for Tom and Faye's relationship, no matter her actual feelings about it. "Let's eat here. That way Mama can join us. I'm sure you're just as eager to get to know the rest of the family as you are me." And this way there would be witness to her effort. Faye smiled, her blue eyes wide and innocent. "Wonderful."
She called ahead and then spent the duration of the short ride to the house trying to formulate a game plan, but Faye had caught her in a weak moment and Mary was having a difficult time catching up. Mama met them in the foyer, apparently delighted with the unexpected company and totally oblivious to Mary's inner turmoil. Mary watched the two women fawn over each other and head into the dining room arm-in-arm like the best of friends, and drew a breath for strength. The dull throb at the back of her skull began to spread and her stomach churned, so she veered off into the library and found herself back at the bar, faced with her enemy from the night before. The gin bottle was full again and shined brightly, mocking her. Barrow had clearly attended to it. She scowled and poured just a splash – in her experience, that old saying about the hair of the dog had some truth to it. She plastered on a smile and willed the gin to work its magic, and marched into the wolf den.
Mama pounced immediately. "Mary, did you have any idea Tom is thinking of running for City Council?"
"Yes, but he hasn't mentioned anything lately." The last they'd spoken of it had been on New Year's Eve, when Faye had inadvertently let her in on the secret. "Why?" She zeroed in on Faye, who had the grace to look mildly guilty. "I admit I had an ulterior motive in coming here. Tom was so excited by the idea of Council before the holiday, but he's barely mentioned it since. I was hoping we could combine forces and convince him to reconsider it. Nominations must be in by the end of the month."
"Of course we must," Mama agreed. "I think it's an excellent idea, Tom on the Council. He'd be very good. What do you think, Mary?"
There was no question in Mary's mind about Tom's capabilities, but in that moment she was thinking that she'd let her paranoia get the best of her and perhaps Faye Delaney was more genuine than Mary had given her credit for. She decided to extend an olive branch. "I agree. Knowing Tom, he'll need a bit of arm-twisting, so let's put our heads together, shall we?"
As the afternoon wore on, Mary relaxed around Faye enough that she found herself amused by the woman's stories, and even laughed once or twice. To Mary's complete surprise, she realized that she genuinely liked her. She would have been annoyed on principle by that, were it in any other circumstance, but since she had made it her mission to bury all this sudden uncertainty about Tom she decided to embrace it. Lunch had come and gone, and they'd shifted to the library, but the conversation had hardly missed a step. Mary couldn't remember a time she'd spoken to another woman without having to navigate a minefield of barbs and social scheming. It was odd, but not unwelcome.
"Mary! There you - Faye?" Tom stood in the doorway, his mouth fallen open in surprise. Mary felt her cheeks flush guiltily – over what, she couldn't explain. His eyes jumped to her for a heartbeat, then he recovered with a smile. "This is a surprise! I didn't expect you."
"A most welcome one," Mama interjected pleasantly. "Faye's been entertaining us all afternoon. She's delightful."
For a moment Mary was grateful for her mother's genuine, innocent approach to the world. She never failed to put a room at ease, and Mary had never not seen someone melt under Cora's warmth. Even now, as she chided Tom for withholding his plans for the Council, she managed to do so in a way that lifted him up and absolved Faye for spilling the secret. It also gave Mary the time to steel herself against her embarrassment about the night before and pretend none of it had happened. She noticed that Tom's gaze would flicker in her direction, but that he would quickly return his attention to Faye every time – and when he did his smile would widen and his affection was plain. And every time he did so, Mary was both relieved and annoyed.
Not annoyed. Something else. Something that was unacceptable. Something she would not name.
She ruthlessly squashed it down and smiled as brightly as she could without coming across as unhinged. "We've been devising campaign strategies all day, so I'm afraid you no longer have much choice in the matter." Everyone laughed at her joke and Tom's edginess dissipated, and she was safe again. Papa had joined them at this point and was positively gleeful at the prospect of a muddy battle in the political trenches. Faye was impassioned, Tom was smitten. Mary poured herself a drink.
Faye refused the dinner invitation, insisting she'd overstayed her welcome as it was. Mary was relieved, and her smile vanished the moment the door shut behind Faye and Tom, who was seeing her home. It had taken an inordinate amount of energy to be lively and engaged all afternoon, and she'd had her fill of watching the pair of them make puppy eyes at one another.
"They're getting quite serious, aren't they? Do you think he'll propose?" Mama mused.
Mary tensed as all eyes turned to her. Naturally everyone assumed she'd be the first to know, but truthfully she wasn't sure if that was something Tom would choose to tell her. He didn't trust her to be objective about the women in his life, and at this point, she couldn't blame him. She shrugged, feigning disinterest. "He hasn't said anything to me."
"I wonder if he is planning it." Mama looked surprised by the idea. "It would be strange, wouldn't it? Where would they live?"
"Here, of course," Papa said immediately. "If they wanted to, that is." He trailed off, clearly also caught off guard over the prospect of Tom marrying again. "I admit it is odd to think of Tom with someone who isn't... one of us." Mama was pensive and troubled. "Would they, though? None of us really know this woman." Papa chuckled. "I remember a day when we considered Tom the interloper. Funny how things change. What do you think, Mary?"
What did she think? After everything that had happened lately, and despite her newfound interest in encouraging this relationship, Mary had not truly considered where it might lead and the fallout it would bring. "I think we needn't worry about Tom marrying anybody until it happens. Besides, he'll surely be too busy with this Council election to focus on marriage anytime soon."
"I do think that a married man would be more attractive to voters," Mama said thoughtfully. "Everyone wants their representative to be a reflection of themselves, don't they?" Mary scowled. "I'm sure he'll get enough mileage out of his coup in joining this family. People love a rags to riches story; it gives them hope it will be them one day."
"The irony of course is that it's mostly the other way around these days," Papa commented, and at once resurrected Mary's anxiety over everything that was not Tom-related. Her stomach clenched painfully. She stood abruptly. "I'm going to change for dinner," she declared, and beat a hasty retreat out of the library, trying to outpace her demons.
"Mary? Can we talk?"
Mary expelled a breath and looked up from her paperwork to regard Tom, who was hanging uncertainly in the doorway. "What about?" she asked lightly, making a show of the stack of papers in front of her. In an effort to not be alone with her thoughts that evening, she'd decided to make a list of upgrades and attention the manor needed, and while it had initially been just a make-work project, it had turned out to be quite lengthy and an issue in need of actual focus.
"I just wanted to make sure you're alright. Last night-"
"Last night I learned that gin is not my friend," she interrupted. "I'm sorry if I said anything to make you uncomfortable."
"Of course not."
"Good, then let's put it behind us, shall we?" She would have happily erased the entire night from existence. "I've been going over a list of repairs needed on the manor, and I could use your input." She stood painfully straight and willed him to let it go. He clearly wanted to press the issue, but for once he swallowed his words. He sighed, then took the list from her hands. "We should do an inspection of the entire place, I think. Starting with the roof." The tension drained from her shoulders and she smiled ever so slightly. "You've read my mind. I was also thinking that we should hire a photographer this week, for your campaign photo."
"That's really not necessary," He protested immediately, looking slightly pained. Mary laughed. "I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice at this point. In for a penny, in for a pound."
"Faye said pretty much the same. I never thought I'd see the day you'd be in cahoots with a woman I'm seeing."
Mary hesitated. "Things seem to be serious between you two," she said slowly, striving to sound nonchalant. "Mama was curious about your intentions."
"I care about her," Tom replied carefully, watching her as though one wrong word would set her off. "I might love her."
"You might love her? You've been seeing her for long enough that I'd think you'd know by now."
Tom expelled a breath, becoming distinctly wary. "I haven't had a lot of luck with love in my life. I'm not going to rush in." Mary winced. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." She reached out to squeeze his hand. "You know I just want you to be happy." He studied her for a long moment, so intently that she was sure he could see right through her. She refused to look away even though her heart was pounding violently. Finally he smiled and squeezed her hand in return before letting go. "I am happy. Are you?"
"I-" Mary was taken aback at how invasive his question felt, but curiously wanted to be honest. "I have too many other things to worry about."
"Henry will come around, Mary. I promise."
Tom was so fierce in his conviction that Henry would forgive her that Mary believed him, but the question sprang up in her so unexpectedly it took her breath away: what if she didn't want him to?
