What's Your Sign?

by Lila Monroe

  “Look at all the outfits,” I nudge him, wide-eyed. “People have gone all out for this.”

  “You’re the most beautiful one here, though,” Justin tells me. I bite back a laugh.

  “Thanks, but sure.”

  He’s not looking too bad himself. He stopped short of a full-on white tux, but he still looks dapper as all hell in a tailored gray suit, with a blue tie that makes his eyes pop. I cross my ankles in my heeled Mary Janes, smoothing down the fringed dress I found with April at a costume shop in Greenpoint. A sparkly headband holds my hair out of my eyes. People are dressed to the nines, in feathers and jewels and long strings of pearls wrapped around their elegant necks.

  I want to relax and take in the view, but I can’t stop scanning the crowd for Lucinda. Justin arranged for a car and driver for her—excuse me, he arranged for a car and driver for Pearl LeFarge—but so far I haven’t spotted her. I’m starting to worry she’s not going to show, when she steps out onto the veranda, the same butler from earlier helping her across the threshold.

  “Pearl!” I call, jumping up out of my chair and thrusting my champagne flute at Justin. She’s in full costume, a long flowy caftan embroidered with sparkling stars, and layers upon layers of scarves, multicolored bangle bracelets jangling all the way up her arm. And I’m pretty sure—yup, I confirm with a squint—she’s painted a mole beside her mouth. I take both her hands in mine, barely resisting the urge to fling my arms around her. “You made it! How are you?”

  “Oh, simply mahvelous, dahling,” she tells me. “The stars are aligned, the champagne is flowing . . .” She turns to the butler, offering him a flirtatious smile. “Have you met my new friend Clarke?”

  I nod. “We met earlier,” I say with a smile.

  He nods. “Anything you need at all, ma’am,” he says to Lucinda/Pearl, with what I swear is an admiring sparkle in his eye. “Just you call. Day or night,” he adds.

  “Oh, you.” Lucinda fans herself as he leaves us. “What a rascal!” she exclaims, looking delighted.

  I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one’s listening, then lower my voice anyway. “So, you’re clear on the mission, right?”

  “Obviously, dahling,” Lucinda says breezily, not breaking character. “All the world’s a stage, you know.”

  I’m not worried so much about all the world as I am about this particular party, and I’m about to tell her so when Justin lays a hand on my back. “Oh!” I yelp. “Um, hi.” I turn back to Lucinda. “This is Justin Rockford,” I say, giving her a meaningful look. “The new CEO of the Gazette. He’s been dying to meet you. Pearl.”

  “Ms. LeFarge,” Justin says warmly, holding a hand out. “It’s a pleasure. I’m a big fan of your column.”

  “Oh, the pleasure is mine, dahling.” She turns his hand over, running one blood-red fingernail over the lines on his palm. “Quite the love line, I see.” She looks back and forth between us with a smirk. “Keeping Natalie busy in bed, are you? Now, you look like an Aries to me.”

  Justin laughs. “That’s right—the Aries part, at least. How could you tell?”

  Besides the fact I told her?

  “Oh, it’s all part of my gift,” Lucinda proclaims, waving one hand so her bangles ring out. “Plus, it’s the sign of the bull. Dominant and fiery. Lucky you, Natalie. A man who can take charge is hard to find, if you get my meaning.”

  Oh, I do. They could get her meaning from space, she’s laying it on so thickly.

  “Pearl!” I say, trying to keep my voice bright even as my whole body blushes bright red. “Will you come with me to find the ladies’ room?”

  I yank her into the house: “Lucinda,” I hiss, “you’ve got to tone it down a little here, OK? If we get found out . . .”

  Lucinda looks wholly unconcerned. “Oh, trust me, dahling,” she trills—her scarves trailing behind her. “I’m a thespian.” Then, looking over my shoulder: “Oh Clarke!” she calls, heading back down the hall. “How would you like a private reading?”

  That worried feeling in my chest? Blossoms into full-on panic.

  Just what have I gotten myself into here?

  * * *

  Dinner is served in a massive hall overlooking the gardens, with long tables strewn with greenery and candles flickering in mercury glass holders. I’m listening to the woman on my left talk about her youth-preserving skincare routine, which has something to do with human placenta, when Walter and Suki make their entrance, hand in hand. Walter is trim and spry-looking, though I know he’s well into his seventies—I wonder if maybe he’s been talking to placenta lady—while Suki is about thirty years younger than him, beaming happily and dripping diamonds in her long white gown.

  “Here goes nothing,” Justin murmurs, taking a fortifying gulp of his wine. I give his hand a squeeze.

  “You’ll be great,” I promise.

  We’re seated near the head of the table, right beside them. Suki makes a beeline for Lucinda. “It’s you!” Suki squeals, obviously starstruck. “It’s really you. Oh, Ms. LeFarge, you have no idea how long I’ve been following your career. I’ve been reading your column since I was a teenager. You predicted my wedding to Walter. You predicted my chihuahua getting hit by a Chevy back two years ago!”

  My grip on Justin’s hand tightens, but Lucinda just nods beatifically. “I’m very good,” she agrees.

  “I want to talk to you about my chart,” Suki continues, reaching for Lucinda’s hand like she might be able to absorb some of her power. “I read that I have a Virgo moon rising, and I’m just so worried about what that means.”

  “It’s out of alignment,” Walter explains seriously. Then he winks across the table at us. “Walter Vanderfleet,” he says, holding a hand out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

  We do our introductions, clinking our glasses to Walter and Suki’s twenty years of wedded bliss—and to Lucinda’s alleged celestial wisdom. “Pearl writes one of the most successful columns at the Gazette,” Justin tells Walter. “But you know all about that, don’t you Mrs. Vanderfleet?”

  “Oh, yes,” Suki coos, all Marilyn Monroe whisper. “And call me Suki, please. I can tell we’re going to be fast friends. After all, that’s what Pearl said in her column last week.”

  I did?

  “I did,” Lucinda agrees.

  “Of course, the column will be ending if we don’t find another investor for the newspaper,” I add meaningfully.

  Suki claps one hand to her ample bosom. “It’s so sad what’s happening! I keep telling Walter there’s no way we can let Pearl LeFarge’s paper go under.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Justin says with a smile. I can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but his entire body has gone alert. “I’d love to talk to you some more about the Gazette this weekend, if we can find a spare moment without interrupting the festivities too much.”

  Walter is about to answer when Lucinda interrupts: “Could we possibly get some more wine, darling?” she asks, holding up her empty glass for his inspection. “I find the nectar of the gods helps me . . . penetrate the barrier between this world and the heavens.”

  “Oh my God, yes! More wine!” Suki trills. “Is that moonstone?” she asks, peering closer at one of Lucinda’s many crystal necklaces.

  “Oh yes,” Lucinda says. “Cleansed under the full moon itself, to magnify its powers.”

  Suki gasps. “I love crystals! I’ve been having my massages with extra chakra work. All things in nature are connected, don’t you think?”

  “The power of nature is unparalleled,” Lucinda agrees—and downs her wine in one. “Another, dahling?”

  I slowly exhale, and I pray to those heavens that nobody gets so sloshed they give the game away.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  20

  Justin

  This is going to be OK. More than OK. What started as a Hail Mary pass might actually turn out to be the Gazette’s saving grace—thanks to the mysterious allure of one Pearl LeFarge.<
br />
  I pace in front of the mirror, practicing my big pitch. We’ve got an invite for a private lunch with Walter and Suki on their yacht today, and I need to knock this one out of the park. I’m no stranger to a business pitch, although, let’s face it—usually I’m the one being asked for money, not the other way around.

  I take a deep breath and go over my notes again, trying to ignore the fact that a hundred-plus people are relying on me to save their jobs with this one casual lunch-slash-presentation.

  “Hey.” Natalie appears in the bathroom doorway in a fluffy white bathrobe. “Everything OK in here?”

  “Yup,” I say automatically. “I’m fine.”

  Then I realize I don’t need to lie, not to her. It’s part of what I like so much about us—the fact that it’s OK not to have it one hundred percent together in front of her every single second. The idea that it’s OK to let her help. “Well, to tell the truth, I’m pretty nervous for today.”

  Natalie smiles, coming to stand behind me in front of the mirror and wrapping her arms around my waist. “You’ve got this,” she promises, pressing her lips against my bare shoulder. “Walter was totally taken by you last night. You’re a brilliant businessman, remember?”

  “Very funny.” I duck my head to drop a toothpaste flavored kiss on her mouth. “What I could really use is an early copy of Pearl’s column. See if the stars signal success today, or if I should just give up now.”

  I’m joking, mostly, but Natalie doesn’t laugh.

  “Justin . . .” she begins, pulling back and perching on the edge of the bathtub. “You don’t really believe that stuff, do you? Horoscopes, it all being written in the stars?”

  “No,” I laugh. “Well, only a little . . .”

  It’s not like I’m about to gamble my entire fortune away just because some newspaper psychic predicted luck might be in my corner. “But her columns have really worked for me lately,” I say, turning back to button my shirt. “Pearl was the one who steered me to give us a chance, and to follow my instincts about the paper.” I shrug. “It’s nice to feel like somebody’s looking out for me. Like I’ve got a kind of guide.”

  Natalie nods, picking at her cuticles. “No, I know,” she says softly. “And somebody is looking out for you. It’s just—” She breaks off.

  I look over. “What?”

  Natalie looks at me for another moment, a look on her face like she’s trying to solve an impossible riddle. Then she shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says finally, standing up and wrapping her arms around me, popping up on her bare tiptoes to nip at my bottom lip. “You’re going to be amazing.”

  It’s a beautiful day to be out on the water, sunny with just the tiniest bite in the air. Natalie looks beautiful in dark jeans and a striped cotton sweater, her dark hair back in a braid and tied with a vintage scarf. “You made it!” Suki crows as we climb aboard, throwing her arms around Natalie like they’re old friends and leading her over to the mimosa bar set up on the starboard side of the boat’s upper deck.

  “Glad you could join us,” Walter tells me, holding a hand out to shake. He’s got a distinct Colonel Sanders vibe going this afternoon, in a white suit and a captain’s hat he tells me once belonged to JFK. “Got it at auction,” he tells me. “I love a bit of historical oddity, don’t you?”

  “Who doesn’t?” I ask, even as I remember the display of vintage weapons that held court over our breakfast this morning, guns and swords mounted on all four walls of the breakfast nook. “Quite the, ah, impressive collection you’ve put together here.”

  He leads me over to a sitting area on the deck with a spread of food set out. A deckhand brings us a pair of Manhattans. “Thanks,” I say, even though I have zero intention of drinking today. I need to stay razor sharp to get Walter on my side, and something tells me that for all the cozy grandfather act, he’s not the teddy bear he seems.

  Sure enough, Walter sits back and looks at me shrewdly. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he says, not bothering with a preamble. “Your father is a sonofabitch.”

  I laugh out loud, I can’t help it. “You won’t get any argument from me there,” I tell him, with a rueful grin. “We’ve got different priorities when it comes to the family business, that’s for sure. And I’d like to make some changes, if I can.” I reach down into my messenger bag, pull out my paperwork. “The Gazette’s financials are in order,” I assure him. “If you look at the prospectus I’ve prepared, you’ll see we’ll be breaking even by the end of the quarter. I’ve already managed to cut costs without requiring layoffs. The paper can survive—and even thrive one day soon, under the right stewardship. We just need to get over the hump.”

  Walter pulls out a pair of reading glasses and scans the paperwork. “I’ll have my financial advisors take a look,” he says after a moment, “but I don’t have to tell you my wife has already got her heart set on this one. That Pearl character sure makes an impression, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, sir,” I agree, smiling.

  He nods. “If my guy likes what he sees, we may have a deal.”

  Holy crap!

  “Really?” I clear my throat, suddenly choking up. A weight lifts from my shoulders, knowing that all the staff jobs are safe, and more than that, the paper itself. “That’s great news, sir. I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear it.”

  Suki’s laughter rings out from the other side of the deck, her head tipped close to Natalie’s in a way that makes me wonder what kind of secrets they’re sharing. Walter smiles indulgently. “Twenty years married and that laugh is still my favorite sound,” he confides. “Lord knows I’ve spent a lot of money to hear it over the years. But it’s always worth it.” He takes a sip of his Manhattan, gazing fondly at his wife. “People said I was crazy, getting hitched to a girl barely half my age. They said she was a gold-digger, that she’d put me through the ringer and be gone in a year, but look at us now. Still going strong.”

  “Twenty years,” I agree, impressed.

  “And they’ve certainly been interesting ones,” Walter chuckles. “She’s got her quirks, and she’d be the first to tell you that I’ve got mine, too. But if you find the right person, she’ll make your life worth living.”

  I know he’s probably just feeling sentimental on account of his anniversary, but I can’t help but look across the deck toward Natalie, a glass of champagne in one hand and the sun catching a trace of gold in her hair. She’s spectacular. I’ve never met anyone like her before.

  And I can’t help but wonder if maybe she’s . . . the one.

  I know, all that fate and soulmate crap never rang true to me in the past, but something about Natalie and me just clicks. I love waking up with her in the mornings and hanging out on the weekends, reading the Sunday papers and drinking coffee, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

  She’s a true partner, and I’ve never had someone like that in my corner before. Someone who’s got my back, who I can depend on. Not because she cares about my wealth or connections, but because she believes in me. Just like I believe in her, too. Her stubbornness, her ambition, the way she gets so passionate about the things she cares about.

  Not to mention how damn sexy she looks in the process.

  Natalie sees me watching her and strolls over to join us. “Don’t let me interrupt,” she says, “but I can’t resist a good sandwich spread.”

  “That’s my kind of woman.” Walter chortles. “Please, go ahead.”

  She fills a plate. “So, has Justin won you over with his wit, charm, and irresistible financial projections?” she asks with a smile.

  “He’s certainly working on it,” he replies, looking amused.

  “Well, I don’t need to tell you that the whole staff of the Gazette is on board and behind him,” she continues sweetly. “We’re highly motivated to keep the printing presses running.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  “And I know I don’t need to mention the Gazette’s illustrious legacy,” she adds. “Or
the importance of a vibrant newspaper market in today’s climate.”

  “And yet here you are, doing it regardless.”

  “Am I? Whoops.” Natalie grins. “I’ll just go take my Italian sub over here and leave you two to it.”

  She saunters off, but not before giving me a wink. You’ve got this, she mouths.

  And just like that, I believe her.

  * * *

  Back on dry land, we get ready for the big gala event up in our suite.

  “You really think we’re safe?” Natalie asks, looking hopeful.

  “I think we’ve got a good shot,” I say. “But who knows? Walter is hard to read.”

  “Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” Natalie grins. “Our fearless leader.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? You’re CEO, aren’t you?” she asks. “The buck stops with you.”

  I exhale. “I always thought of my dad as the guy in charge,” I admit. “I know I’m being groomed to take over one day, but I never wanted it. I always thought I’d have to be like him to lead.”

  “Cold, unfeeling, and with a bad taste in ties?”

  I smile, pulling her into my arms. “Exactly.”

  “But that’s crazy,” she tells me, smiling up at me. “You’re nothing like your father. You couldn’t be him if you tried. You do things your own way,” she continues. “You care.”

  “Yes,” I tell her honestly, leaning closer for a kiss. “I do.”

  About her. About us. I kiss her until my phone starts buzzing on the nightstand. I reluctantly pull away. “That could be the finance guys . . .”

  “Take it!” she orders, looking excited. “Get your ducks in a row and the rubber ready for the road.”

  I laugh. “OK. See you down there?”

  “I’ll be the one in the sexy dress,” she says with a shimmy, before grabbing her purse and heading for the door. “And all the hors d’oeuvres.”