Ty might have laughed if he wasn’t so annoyed. The reporters all glanced at each other and instead of calling her on being such a bonehead, someone asked, “What did you think of tonight’s game?” Totally letting her off the hook.

“It was great. All the guys played very well.”

“Virgil put together a solid team. I know that he’d tried to sign Sean Toews. What happened?”

Toews wanted more money than he was worth. That’s what had happened.

“I’m not at liberty to answer that.”

“What did you think of your captain’s hat trick?”

Bastards had barely asked him about the hat trick. She smiled, and Ty doubted she even knew what a hat trick was.

“We’re ecstatic, of course. My late husband believed in Mr. Savage’s talent,” she said, once again pronouncing his name wrong.

“It’s Sah-vahge.” He spoke out loud before he gave it much thought.

The press turned and looked at him. He pushed away from the doorjamb. “Since you’re the owner of the team, you should know how to pronounce my name. It’s Sah-vahge. Not savage.”

She pushed up her smile. “Thank you. I apologize, Mr. Sah-vahge. And since I sign your checks, you should know that it’s Miss July. Not Miss January.”

Chapter 5

The Gloria Thornwell Society met the third Thursday of every month. The Society had been named after founding member Gloria Thornwell in 1928, and it was the most exclusive organization in the state. Much more exclusive than the Junior League, which seemed to let in all manner of new-money riffraff these days.

The Society was filled with rich women whose husbands kept them in designer knits and funded their pet charities. This year it was a school in a favela in Rio de Janeiro. Admittedly a very worthy cause, although Faith had put in her vote for a more local charity this year. She’d been vetoed, as always.

She fingered her long strand of antique pearls between the lapels of her raincoat as she moved toward the building near Madison and Fourth. The Society was really strict about their dress code, and Faith adjusted the long sleeves of her cashmere sweater set beneath her slick coat as she reached for the front door. She was met in the lobby by Tabby Rutherford-Longstreet, wife of Frederick Longstreet, president and CEO of Longstreet Financial and one of Virgil’s longtime friends and business associates.

“Hello, Tabby,” she said as she pulled back her sleeve and checked her Rolex. Lunch always started at noon, and it was ten till. “Is everyone already here?” She moved toward the elevator and Tabby stepped between her and the buttons.

“Yes. Everyone is here. They sent me down to speak with you.”

“About?”

“We all agreed that Dodie Farnsworth-Noble should be put in charge of the entertainment committee for this year’s fund-raiser.

“That’s my job.” Faith looked into Tabby’s blue eyes surrounded by fine lines and pressed powder. “I’m the head of the entertainment committee.”

“We think it’s best if Dodie takes over that position.”

“Oh.” Before Virgil’s death, she’d worked tire lessly on this year’s benefit. She’d already spoken to the Seattle Philharmonic, and her heart sank a little. “Then what’s my function?”

Tabby pasted a fake smile on her face. “We feel that with everything going on in your life right now, you won’t have time for your responsibilities.”

Sure, now that she owned a hockey team, she had a lot on her plate, but the Society’s work was important. “I understand your concern, but I assure you that I will make time,” she told Tabby. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Tabby placed a hand against her own throat and twisted her pearls. “Don’t force me to be unkind.”

“What?”

“We think it would be best if you voluntarily gave up your Society membership.”

She opened her mouth to ask why, but then she closed it again. They weren’t concerned that “with everything going on” in her life that she wouldn’t have the time. Virgil had once teased that after he died, all the wives of his friends and associates would kick her out of all their clubs because they couldn’t stand to have someone young and beautiful around their husbands. Virgil had been wrong. Most of their husbands had mistresses that the wives knew about. They didn’t want her because she hadn’t been born with a surname worthy of hyphenation. She’d known from the first meeting that they didn’t consider her a worthy member of their society. Somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten that she really wasn’t one of them. She was “riffraff.” No matter how hard she worked or how much money she’d raised.

“I see.” If Tabby thought Faith would cause a scene that the Society could all dine out on for months, she was wrong. “Best of luck to you,” she said. “I hope this year’s fund-raiser is an unqualified success.” She smiled and turned toward the front of the building as heat rose up her chest and tightened her throat. Her hand shook as she opened the door and walked outside into the cool afternoon air. Tears pinched the backs of her eyes and she fumbled in her purse for her sunglasses. She would not cry. Would not care about people who did not care about her.

She could sic her team of lawyers on their asses and make them sorry. She could ruin their day as much as they’d ruined hers, but what would that solve? Nothing. They would be forced to accept her back into the Society. Back into a world where she wasn’t wanted.

Faith shoved her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose and looked up the street to where she’d parked her car. She had two hours before her meeting with the PR department of the Chinooks. She thought of the short drive to her penthouse where she could curl up in bed and pull the covers over her head. She thought of her mother in the shower when she’d left, and Pebbles snapping and barking as she tried to pull her Valentino peep toe from the dog’s mouth.

She didn’t feel like dealing with her mother and Evil Pebbles, so she wandered a few blocks without direction. She thought of Tabby’s face and cool smile. The gloomy overcast day fit her mood, and she thought of marching right back to the Society and telling them what horrible, supercilious, pretentious bitches they were. Instead, she found herself in front of the Fairmont Hotel and walked into the familiar lobby. Shuckers Oyster Bar had been one of her and Virgil’s favorite places to eat lunch. She was shown a table and sank into a chair, finding comfort in the familiar surroundings.

Getting thrown out of the Gloria Thornwell Society was horribly humiliating. They’d meant it as a hot slap across her face, and it stung like hell. It hurt a lot more than she wanted to admit. At one time she wouldn’t have let it bother her. Living with Virgil had made her soft.

She’d always known that those women weren’t her friends—not really—but she never thought they’d toss her out of a charitable organization two weeks after her husband’s death. She wished like hell Virgil was at home so she could talk to him about what had happened. Of course, if Virgil were at home, they wouldn’t have booted her out on her ass. There was no one at home to whom she could rant or vent or even talk to about it.

The waitress approached with a menu and Faith opened it. She wasn’t hungry, but she ordered clam chowder, Dungeness crab, and a glass of chardonnay, because that’s what she always ordered at Shuckers. As she raised her glass to her lips, she glanced about the restaurant. She became suddenly aware of the fact that she was the only person dining alone, which added to her already frazzled nerves and hot humiliation. But this was her life now and she’d better learn how to get used to it. If there was one thing Faith knew how to do, it was how to adapt. Being alone after five years of marriage was something she’d just have to adjust to.

As she sat within the richly carved oak paneling of the oyster bar and ate her chowder, she pretended an interest in the tin ceiling. The restaurant was filled with people, but she had never felt so alone in her life. The last time she’d felt this self-conscious was the first time she’d stripped to her G-string. Sitting there by herself felt a bit like being naked in public.

The people with whom she’d socialized for the past five years were Virgil’s friends. As she picked at her crab and ordered a second glass of wine, she wondered how many of those friends were going to ostracize her now. Without Virgil, she didn’t have friends of her own, and she wasn’t quite sure how that had happened. The friends she’d had in Vegas before her marriage lived a lifestyle she’d left behind. Some of them had been really great girls, but these days she couldn’t imagine knocking back cherry bombs and partying till the sun came up. She’d lost touch with the few friends she’d made at Playboy.

Somewhere in the last five years, she’d lost herself. Or at least, whom she’d been. She’d become someone else, but if she was no longer a part of Seattle society, where did she belong? She was a former stripper and playmate. Her mother was a flake, and she hadn’t seen her father since 1988. For the past five years she’d played the role of a rich man’s wife, but who was she now that he was gone?

As her lunch dishes were cleared away, the waitress recited the dessert menu. It was on the tip of Faith’s tongue to refuse. To bolt from the restaurant and the uncomfortable situation, but like the first time she’d reached for a stripper pole, she forced herself to endure it. To get through it until the next time, when it would be easier.

She ordered vanilla-bean crème brûlée, and for good measure, another glass of wine. Which probably wasn’t a great idea since she had a meeting in just a bit, but she’d had a very bad day.