*****
The three-hour drive home flew by as Mark recounted everything he’d enjoyed, though he’d made Piper slightly uncomfortable with some pointed questions about Karen and Derek. Still, she was glad to arrive back home.
As they took the last turn toward the cottage, Piper's brow creased. There were a lot of cars parked along their street, and more than a few news vans. Shit, what now?
“Mark, when I pull up and park, be ready to make a break for the door. Don't wait for me. Get your bag ready. Got it?” Piper's voice was commanding, and Mark took her grim expression seriously.
“Okay, Piper.” She was one of the few people in the world he trusted fully.
As soon as she'd pulled the car in to park, a horde of people swarmed from their vehicles. “Now, Mark! Go!”
Both rushed to open their doors, and then Mark was off like a rocket. His smaller form easily slipped around and through the crowd and he made it to the door sooner than Piper.
Piper was, once again, half blinded by cameras. The chaos of too many questions flying at her was as disconcerting as ever. Luckily, the crowd didn't totally halt her movement so she eventually made her way to the cottage door. She was inside a few minutes after Mark.
She growled as she closed the door behind herself, completely confused as to what had reinvigorated the media's interest in her. Mark’s footsteps echoed down from the second floor.
“Dot? Shelly?” She called out loudly, hoping one or the other was around to enlighten her.
Shelly stepped into the hallway from the living room, her expression grim. “You weren’t answering your phone. It’s not good.” Her voice was quiet, sounding more ominous than her words. She blinked past Piper in a daze. “They got out of their cars. We should call the police.”
Piper frowned at her, worried by how she was acting. “Let me do that real fast… then you should tell me what’s going on.”
She internally cursed when she pulled her phone out of her pocket and found it turned off; she’d done that yesterday to conserve the battery. The fifteen missed calls and four voicemails made her wince. She shook her head and made the call. It was quick and painless, and she could tell Chief Hughes was getting as aggravated by the press as she was.
Shelly was pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table, hands tugging at the ends of her hair.
Piper tossed her phone down haphazardly onto a side table. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know how but... everything, they know everything Piper.” Shelly paused, her face pale and her eyes hollow. “They know about Chris. They named Chris.”
The blood drained from Piper's face. “Show me,” was all she could manage to choke out.
Shelly's shoulders sagged, regret and shame painting her face in long, drooping strokes. Her hands shook as she retrieved something from the couch and blindly thrust it at Piper.
The magazine—if it could be called that—displayed a horribly fuzzy picture of Piper behind a set of poorly photoshopped jail bars. The headline, more than the photo, caught her attention.
BERING HEIRESS CONFIRMED FOUND—BUT SHE AIN'T NO PRINCESS!
SHOCKING HISTORY OF VIOLENCE UNCOVERED!
She sunk down to the couch and took a breath. Then another. She flipped further through the magazine to discover a rather long article, all about her.
Piper skimmed through, not wanting to rehash everything in her past. They mentioned the incident with her third foster family but left out a lot to support their chosen narrative. It didn’t matter much to her until the first mention of Chris.
She only managed a few lines about him before she couldn’t read anymore. She dropped the tabloid and immediately tugged Shelly down and into a hug. It didn’t mention Shelly, specifically, but it broached enough that Piper understood how it would get under her foster sister’s skin. “I’m so sorry, Shel.”
Shelly folded into Piper’s embrace without question, her head nuzzled firmly against Piper’s neck. “I’m sorry too, Piper. This is all my faul—“
“No,” Piper declared vehemently. “That scumbag made his own choices, and so did I. If anyone’s sorry, it’s me. It’s because of my ties with the Berings that this even came out again.”
Shelly’s fingers curled tightly into her shirt, and with a lurching stomach, Piper realized Shelly was crying. Piper squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the many nights she’d woken up to Shelly crying—and how the only thing she could do then was crawl in alongside Shelly and desperately try to hold on until an exhausted Shelly could finally sleep.
She’d hold Shelly for however long she needed to. She stared at the coffee table without really seeing it—until she accidentally focused on the by-line of the article. Sunny Deacon.
She cursed at herself. She should have let Selma get the man fired.
Piper could have slapped herself. Selma!
She clenched her teeth and carefully dug out her cell phone out from her pocket, trying not to jostle Shelly. First, she needed to call Dot—she wanted as much support available for Shelly as possible—and then she’d call in the cavalry.
*****
“Thanks for coming with me today,” Selma said as her sister climbed into the car.
Laura flipped her bright red hair and sent Selma a wink as she buckled her seatbelt. Long, tapered fingers brushed over her navy suit in an attempt to avoid wrinkles. “That’s what family’s for, isn’t it?”
Selma bit the inside of her cheek, already feeling better. There was something soothing about the faint Yorkshire accent that persisted in her sister’s speech even though she’d been back stateside for well over a decade. They spoke several times a week, but it had been a while since she’d had the pleasure of enjoying it in person. Not that this was a personal visit.
“This is the prodigal daughter, is it?” Laura held up the news rag, the cheap paper crinkling as she did so.
“That’s an unflattering picture,” Selma muttered as she pulled her car out into traffic. “But, yes.”
The car was silent as they slowly made their way toward the highway. Selma had hoped to beat the lunch rush, but what was a little more bad luck?
“So how do you feel about it, then? Come on, be honest. Isn’t it terribly dreadful?”
Selma frowned, chancing a long look at Laura. “What?”
Laura arched an eyebrow. “Well, don’t you consider the Berings your parents? You hardly ever speak to Mum.”
“I,” Selma gripped the steering wheel and shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not like that. Piper is nice. I don’t…“
“How boring, Selma. Be upset, you’re allowed to be.”
“Their daughter was kidnapped and they hadn’t seen her in twenty years! I’m not upset we found her.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Besides, I speak to Mother.”
Laura clicked her tongue. “E-mail doesn’t count.”
“That’s not my fault. She refused to speak to me after I passed up that position at her firm.” The defense was weak and Selma knew it.
“That was three years ago. I swear, you’re both like children.” Making another disgusted noise, Laura crossed her arms and stared out the window.
The silence wasn’t something Selma was used to. She and Laura always had something to say to each other. She sucked on her lower lip. “When did you become Mother’s champion, anyway?”
“I’m not. Not exactly.” There was a long, pregnant pause. “She and I have met up a few times. I’ve forgiven her.”
Selma’s chest felt tight. “You did?”
“Yes.”
Traffic began to ease as they reached the highway and its many lanes. Selma focused on merging, her eyes flicking back and forth to ensure she was doing so safely.
She licked her lips once she got the car up to the speed limit. “How?” she asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know. I just… did. It’s been long enough. None of us are getting any younger.”
Selma's brow creased. “Is she sick? Do you know
something?”
Laura shook her head. “Hardly. She’s fit as a fiddle, far as I know. It is true, though. Our time is limited.”
“You’re not sick, are you?” Selma sent her a worried glance.
The musical laughter she got in response eased Selma’s mind.
“Not at all. I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with me for a while longer. Though since I’m older, it’s likely I’ll kick the bucket first. I think you should try with her again, Selma.” Laura reached over to squeeze her arm, another subconscious reassurance.
Selma shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”
“Mm, I suppose so. Why don’t you tell me a bit about my new client?” Again, Laura held up the tabloid.
“Well, first of all, that article is completely off base. Some of it is fact twisted to suit a story, and the rest is complete fiction.” Selma flexed her jaw. She really wished Piper had let her get Sunny Deacon fired.
Laura hummed. “So, standard tabloid reporting. Are you a hundred percent certain there’s more fiction than fact here?”
Selma didn’t hesitate. “Without question. I did thorough research into Piper before presenting anything to Karen and Derek.”
“How comfortable is Piper in sharing details of her personal life?” Laura asked next.
“Not at all,” came Selma’s immediate response. “She’s very private.”
Laura tutted. “It’ll be hard to do my job if she’s uncomfortable with publicity. Why, exactly, did you want to bring me on?”
“You’re telling me a public relations expert like yourself can’t take control of the narrative without revealing more of Piper’s personal life? Maybe I did call the wrong person.” Selma lifted her chin, not taking her eyes off of the road.
“I know what you’re doing,” Laura said with a sigh.
Selma cracked a smile, again glancing at Laura. “Is it working?”
Laura heaved an even more dramatic sigh. “You know it is. I love a challenge.”
They shared a laugh and then, by mutual agreement, swapped to lighter topics.
“Laura, Ben’s starting to forget what you look like.”
“I saw him last week!”
“That was two weeks ago.”
“Sorry, it must be all those photos of him you constantly send that must have confused me.”
“Shut up, you know you love those.”
“I do. Send me more.”
*****
Piper twisted her hands in her lap as she waited. Dottie had stayed for a while, but Shelly had needed to eventually be sedated. Piper wasn’t sure just how long her foster sister would be out, but she could only hope Shelly wouldn’t feel as bad when she woke up.
Selma had texted a while ago saying they were close. The “we” had made Piper anxious until she considered that maybe Ben had made the trip. His presence might be nice to have around.
Except when she answered the door five minutes later, it was definitely not Ben standing next to Selma.
The woman, a few inches even taller than Piper, looked distinguished in a tailored navy suit. Her red hair was loose around her shoulders, looking as silky soft as Selma’s.
And her arm was wrapped low along Selma’s back.
Piper clenched her jaw shut.
Selma smiled, looking lovely in a red sheath and matching pumps. “Piper, I want you to meet Laura Whitby, one of the best PR consultants there are. She's here to help.”
Laura finally pulled her hand away from Selma long enough to an extend a hand toward Piper.
Piper eyed the hand warily before grudgingly giving it a shake. “Nice to meet you.” Her tone suggested otherwise.
Selma frowned and looked at Laura, who raised an eyebrow in silent question.
“Are you going to let us in?” Selma finally asked as she turned back to Piper, lips pursed and nostrils flared.
Piper shook herself. There was no reason for her to be standoffish, even if Selma had decided to bring a stranger to her home in the middle of a very personal crisis. She stepped back and pulled the door open wider.
Selma stopped Laura with a hand, stretching up as Laura leaned down so she could whisper something in the taller woman’s ear.
Piper mentally counted to ten. This was not the time to be acting jealous. She’d already made a fool of herself for no reason. As much as she’d felt something for Selma, there had never been much indication that Selma had felt the same. Piper had just assumed she was straight…
Laura walked past Piper and Selma followed, but as Piper shut the door, she turned to find Selma still standing in the hallway and Laura nowhere to be found.
The words bubbled up before Piper could stop them. “What the hell are you doing bringing some stranger here while we’re dealing with such massively personal stuff? I don't care who the hell she is to you or how the hell close you think you are, but I thought you knew how much we value our privacy.”
Selma only stared. As Piper watched, her expression slowly shifted from dismay to anger. “My sister went out of her way to drop everything she was doing to come help you! She really is th—“
Piper froze. Heat rose to her cheeks and she cut Selma off with a soft, “Sister?”
Selma's tirade immediately stopped, and she sighed. “Yes, my sister. I do know how private you are Piper, I wouldn't just bring anyone in to help with this. You can trust her.”
“You realize the two of you don't look anything alike, right?” she floundered, trying to find some way to cover her embarrassment. Piper was mentally comparing the two, and there really was nothing they had visually in common other than that they were both attractive and dressed sharply.
Selma reached up to rub her forehead. “Technically we're half-sisters, but we generally don't make that distinction. We've been through a lot of things together and we're very close.”
Piper wished the world would reach up and swallow her. There was a sour taste in her mouth as she realized how completely out of line she’d acted when Selma had simply been trying to help her again. “I'm sorry for snapping at you, Selma. Me and Shelly are pretty mixed up about stuff right now, and... all that stuff in that gossip rag isn't just personal—those are some of the darkest parts of our lives I would rather bury than face.” She swallowed hard. “If you really think your sister can help, I believe you. It's just,” she swallowed again, “hard.”
Selma looked confused, and then her expression softened. Her hands reached out to grasp Piper’s shoulders. Her gaze was warm and inviting, and Piper melted into the comfort of the look.
“I know this is going to be difficult,” Selma murmured, “but the more honest you are with the both of us, the better we can help you fight this battle.”
Piper brought her left hand up to rest against the hand on her right shoulder. “It's alright. If you're there, maybe it'll be a little easier. We're kind of friends, aren't we?” Her gaze was intent as she waited for Selma’s response.
“Yes, Piper. We're definitely friends.” Selma dropped her arms, but kept contact with Piper's hand, tangling their fingers together. “Come on, let's get this over with. Remember, you can take as many breaks as you need.” Piper nodded in understanding, and let Selma slowly lead her to the living room.
Laura was perched up on the furthest arm of the couch, leaving Piper with plenty of options in seating choice. Laura’s eyes briefly flicked to Piper and Selma’s linked hands, but her face betrayed nothing.
Self-conscious, Piper let go and sat furthest from Laura. She offered Selma a small smile as Selma sat adjacent to Piper, in the middle.
“Let's just handle it like ripping off a plaster; the sooner you get it over with, the better,” Laura declared as she stood back up.
Piper nodded grudgingly, and let her mind return to memories she usually ignored. “The first incident this guy brings up? The one with the church guy and the paperweight?”
At Laura's nod, she continued. “Well, what I've never tol
d anyone about that, except Dottie, Shelly, and a therapist, is…“
Piper felt detached as she relayed the private details of her childhood. She’d really liked her third foster family. The second, less so.
“We can handle this one without divulging any more of your personal information,” Laura said with a nod to Selma, who had her phone raised for Laura to see. “Seeing as how he’s serving his second term in prison for possession of child pornography.”
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