Beth swallowed, forcing all her feelings back into the tight compartment from where they had come. “No,” she answered, and the moment passed.
Back at the house, they climbed the stairs to the writing room. Normally, Dawn would’ve continued down the hall to the master bedroom to take her nap there, but one day about a week ago she followed Beth into the writing room and lay down on the daybed instead. Since then, she had moved books and magazines to the side table in that room, and as Beth settled in her chair at the desk, she propped the pillows against the side railings and drew the crocheted blanket up over her bare legs.
“What scene are you working on today?” She pulled a magazine off the table.
Beth said nothing as she fretted about how to start talking about what they were doing. What was it? Had Dawn done this before? She knew that the world would judge them, and not kindly, but she wanted so much more.
“Dawn…?” She bit her lip. How did she start?
“Oh my goodness.” Dawn cried out. “She got the cover of Time?” She swiveled the magazine around to show Beth a woman as cute as a button. She had short red hair with blue eyes and wore an expression that announced, “Yes, I really am that good.”
Dawn hit the magazine against her leg and then tossed it to the edge of the bed. “Her first picture, her very first picture, was with Hitchcock. Boy, and now, what are they calling her?” She retrieved the magazine. “The New Girls of Hollywood—Talent in Blue Jeans. I would’ve given my right arm to get a picture with Hitch five years ago, and she just walks into it.”
“What movie? I don’t think I saw it.”
“You didn’t miss much. It was some sort of comedy with a dead man, but she was good in her role. Spunky, I think they called her. Now she is on the cover of Time.” Dawn studied the cover before tossing it away again.
Was that envy at the edges of her eyes? Beth was getting almost as good as Dawn at reading her facial expressions. And why not; she spent almost every moment looking at her when they were together.
“Do you wish you were back in Hollywood, making movies?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She looked at Beth and smiled, but it didn’t extend to her eyes. Her hand drifted to her stomach. “I think I’m ready for my next role. But I never had the cover of Time magazine. That would’ve been nice.”
“It’s not over.”
“No, I think maybe it is. I think…I hope I’ll settle into being a mother. Let’s not talk about me. What did you decide about Daisy? Is she going to confront her father or not?”
“Oh, she has to. Don’t you think?” Beth flipped open one of the notebooks to a blank page.
“Yes, I do. So start writing. I’m going to stew for a minute and then take a nap. When I wake up, will you read it to me?”
Beth nodded and gave her a hard look.
“I’m fine. Really. I am.” And then, “Are you?”
“Yeah.” Beth dropped her pencil onto the blank page. It was far easier than opening the other can of worms.
“Good. Write.”
For some reason, the words came fast and furious. The story so far was about two young women who worked as secretaries at a lumberyard much like the one here in Steelhead. Daisy was from money and had taken the job to annoy her parents; Bonnie was supporting a sick aunt who had raised her. When a horrible mistake was made at the lumberyard, the management blamed it on Daisy—Dawn had come up with that idea and Beth loved it. The men at the lumberyard expected the poor little rich girl to roll over and run home to Mommy and Daddy. But she surprised them all and fought the male establishment and the injustice. Bonnie was drawn into the fight. She had the most to lose. She was actually the one who needed her job, but she couldn’t stay away. Together they took on the lumberyard, the misogyny that pervaded their world, and each other.
The scene where Daisy went home to confront her father, probably the worst offender in the story, came naturally, and before she knew it, Beth was done. She swiveled in her chair to look at Dawn, who had fallen asleep half on and half off the pillow. Her neck was bent at an uncomfortable angle. Beth jumped up and gently stretched her out on the bed.
She sighed with contentment in her sleep as Beth pulled her neck straight.
She was so lovely that Beth just stared. After a while, her gaze drifted off Dawn’s face and down to her chest. Dawn was breathing long and deep, and her breasts rose and sank with sleep’s rhythm.
That familiar heat spread out below Beth’s belly, and she had to close her fist to prevent her hand from dropping to places where she had not been invited.
Despite what Dawn said and what Beth told herself, she knew that Dawn would return to Hollywood after the baby was born, and this, whatever it was, would be over. If she were lucky, though, she had three months left, and she didn’t plan to waste them. She just didn’t know how to move forward.
CHAPTER 7
“Excuse me?” Had the crazy bike lady really just asked her what the fuck was going on? Nikka wasn’t a prude by anyone’s standards, but she did try to refrain from starting conversations with strangers with four-letter words.
She stared into the brown eyes peeping out from under shaggy hair. Maggie’s eyes were slanted ever so slightly, giving her an air of the exotic. Nikka hadn’t noticed that outside the bakery. Then and now, they didn’t look wild or irrational, which would have been understandable since Harlan had just served her with a restraining order. In fact, a surprising amount of intelligence shone in the tawny irises.
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “I know you heard me. What’s your end game with all these legal actions? The rest of the town may roll over, but I’ve got nothing to lose. Well, no money anyway.”
Nikka let her gaze drop to take in the whole woman, who had plopped into the chair with one foot up on the seat as if she was already thinking about a quick getaway. Her body was lean and athletic, not particularly muscular, but coiled with an almost palpable energy. Nikka scooted back in her own seat. This woman might literally spring forward at any point.
“It’s a simple question. Maybe not a simple answer, though, right?” Maggie cocked her head, and her bangs fell in her eyes. She reached up to brush them back into place. The action seemed so completely unconscious, it was almost endearing.
“I’m afraid, as I said, that I can’t talk about the case with you, Ms. Chalon.”
“Oh, call me Maggie. You’ve slapped a bogus restraining order on me. Usually, women who screw me call me by my first name.”
Endearing evaporated. This woman was looking to take her on—something she had no interest in and, more importantly, no time for. She had just come down to the lobby to get a better Internet connection. She slapped the laptop closed and rose from the chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll—”
“No, it’s okay. I get it. This isn’t your show.” Maggie got up to follow. “You’re just up here as the hired help. To run interference, so when Lea Truman, who was my boss once too, you know, comes up to do a press release about Beth’s new story, the path will be clear…of people like me, I guess?”
Nikka stopped dead and spun back around. “Excuse me? What new story?”
“Holy shit.” Maggie rocked back on her heels. “You didn’t know about the story? Interesting. They just announced that your law firm found a new story and some other revolutionary manuscript about Beth’s love life that will make all of you very rich.”
Nikka clenched her teeth while she rolled this new development around in her head. Why would Lea keep that from her? Maybe this woman was asking the right question to the wrong person. If Nikka was a pawn in Lea’s games here, she needed to know.
“You can protect yourself and Lea and whoever else stands to make a buck out of this new story, but that’s not why I’m out here. What I want to know is who’s protecting Beth? Is this what she wants? Her life splashed all over the Internet for the world to see.”
Don’t engage. Just walk away. She’s a lunatic, right?
“All t
his is very good for Ms. Walker.” Nikka sounded surer than she felt.
“Monetarily maybe. But I’m beginning to question that too. Come on, you’ve seen her. I know you have. Vivienne let it slip when I was in Beth’s room a couple of days ago. Does the woman lying on that bed, almost dead to the world, look like she’s excited about a new release or anything else?”
Help me. Nikka heard it again, loud and clear. Over the past few days, the call for assistance or whatever it had been had faded to almost nothing in her mind. Damn this woman for stirring it all up.
“I think you saw something. You just don’t want to admit it. Can you really live with yourself if you do nothing?”
“Look, Ms. Chalon. I’ve got a lot of work to do. If you will excuse me.” She pulled the laptop close to her hip and strode to the stairs. Maggie’s look seemed to bore a hole in the back of her head until Nikka rounded the bend in the stairs. Her fingers were itching to get back into her room and grab her iPad. A mind map with its key question and the radiating thoughts was already materializing in her head. Perhaps with enough circles, lines, and colors she could start to figure out Lea’s end game and, more importantly, where she fit into it.
Instead, her phone buzzed just as she hit the top step. Lea Truman’s name flashed across the screen. She was calling from her personal number.
“Hello, Lea.” She tried to keep all emotion out of her voice.
“Alison just told me that she forgot to inform you of the press release. Sorry, it was all very hush, hush, but Kerry and Collier just announced a newly discovered Walker story and—”
“I heard.” Nikka arrived at her door and entered the dark room.
“Oh, good work. I should’ve known you’d be on top of it. The problem is that we are planning an announcement at Walker’s house in two days, and Vivienne’s feeling a little like it’s an invasion coming down on her. She’s the physician’s assistant who’s taking care of Walker. You met her earlier, if you remember.”
“I do.”
“I’m sorry to ask you this. She’s not really adept with people, and I know it’s not part of your job description. But I wouldn’t forget this favor if you could drive out there and interface with the people we’ve hired to take care of the arrangements.”
“When? Tonight?” Her lower back ached from all that walking around town in high heels, and there was a blister forming on her little toe.
“Yeah, this is all coming together at the last moment. I’ll be up there tomorrow to take over, but we figured to send the planning people to Fern House at night, when Beth’s sleeping. I know it’s a lot to ask.” Her voice dropped in register.
Normally, Nikka would’ve enjoyed the little flirtatious show that Lea was putting on. Not that she would ever sleep with her boss, but now she didn’t know what to think. How much was Lea playing her? The timing of the call, the quick apology, the new favor. It all seemed awfully convenient.
“No. No problem. I’ll be happy to go out there,” she said lightly as if she had come up with the suggestion herself. “What exactly is it you want me to do?”
“Mason, the guy from our PR firm, wants to go over logistics. Not Vivienne’s strong suit. Don’t worry. I’ve pre-approved his plan, and his firm is very good. But look at the space, listen to what he says, and fix any possible glitches. It’s very important that this event goes off without a hitch.”
“Right.” This was totally in her wheelhouse. She’d been organizing parties since she’d gotten her first set of Barbies.
“Thanks, Nikka. It’s really nice to know I have someone up there I can count on until I get there tomorrow.”
“You absolutely do.” Nikka played her right back.
“Excellent. Text me when you’re done. You’re my right-hand woman.” Lea hung up.
They were just words to end the conversation on a positive note and to give her an incentive to do what Lea wanted. She knew that. But she also knew that words had power. If you said them often enough, you began to believe them.
She took her work clothes back out of the closet. Her toes cried out when she slipped off her sneakers and shoved her feet back into her heels, but she was Lea’s right-hand woman. See? Just a few minutes later, and it almost sounded true.
At the bend in the stairs, she craned her head around the stairwell. Was Maggie still by the fireplace? Thankfully, the lobby was empty except for Germaine and a young woman at the checkout desk.
Nikka took in the pair as she made her way to the parking lot. The girl stood with an I’ve-got-nothing-to-prove attitude and pushed a black credit card over to Germaine. Obviously checking in.
There was something about her that made Nikka stop and take notice. A stunning cherry blossom tree tattoo climbed up one bare shoulder, her curly, blonde hair entwining with the twigs and branches. Nikka found herself staring; it was so delicate and finely wrought, she wouldn’t have been surprised if a live blossom fell from her shoulder to the ground.
The girl turned to her.
Nikka met luminous green eyes and a sure stare. No smile from Germaine either; she barely even looked up. In fact, Nikka felt the chill from several feet away. Germaine must have gotten the scoop about what had gone down today in town.
No matter. She was here only to impress her boss, not win a popularity contest.
Driving out to Walker’s she wondered why she hadn’t told Lea about Maggie. The easy answer was she didn’t want to look as if she couldn’t handle a little opposition, especially coming on the heels of the phone number fiasco. Maggie obviously wasn’t going to let this Walker situation lie. If the confrontation laced with swear words in the lobby earlier was any indication, Maggie Chalon could be unpredictable.
And yet…there was something about her. Sure, she was clearly pissed about the restraining order, but her coming out to the hotel seemed more about Walker and less about her. The concern had read sincere. Why would she take a take a risk for a woman she no longer worked for? And then there was the moment outside the bakery. When Maggie had touched her, she had felt…
She squirmed in her seat. This train of thought was getting her nowhere. She would mention the Maggie issue to Lea when she came up tomorrow.
That’s settled. Now, I don’t have to think about her anymore.
When she pulled into Walker’s driveway, she was surprised by a big burly guy in a security uniform standing by the gate key post.
“Name, please.” He stepped up to her car’s window, holding an iPad.
“Nikka Vaskin.”
“ID?”
Nikka flashed her license, and he scrolled through his device. “All right, Ms. Vaskin, you’re on the list. You’re good to go.”
The gate swung open, and she eased the Outback down the long driveway. Wow. Security and lists. Lea was taking no chances here.
Vivienne answered the door with her usual sour face. “She sent you?”
“She did.” When Vivienne didn’t move to let her in, she added, “I’m her right-hand woman.” It tripped off her tongue easily out loud too. She might even begin to believe that statement herself.
“Fine, come in. Make yourself useful.” Vivienne led the way into the dining room where a middle-aged, sandy-haired man stood. He rushed over to her and shook her hand.
“Hi, I’m Todd Mason of Mason Public Relations.”
The handshake was firm and professional. “Nikka Vaskin. Lea Truman asked me to sign off on the event.”
“Excellent.” He threw Vivienne a withering glance. “Finally, someone who can make a decision. Come with me.” He led the way into the living room and waved his hand across the room, gorgeous even at night with the big floor-to-ceiling windows framing the dark trees of the forest.
“Imagine the press here and Ms. Truman there, standing behind a podium.” He pointed to a spot right in front of the picture window. “She’ll look like she could take on the whole world with that view behind her—”
A loud thumping as if a chair was being dragged arou
nd a room came from the ceiling.
Everyone jumped.
Vivienne pursed her lips, mumbled, “Excuse me,” and rushed from the room.
“That’s better.” Todd watched her leave. “She was killing my mojo. Let’s get down to business.”
He spoke, almost without taking a breath, about the technical and logistical requirements of the event. Forty-eight minutes later—Nikka timed it with surreptitious glances to her cell phone—he whipped out a numbered list. Finally, he was speaking her language. He should’ve led with that.
“So let me get this straight.” She plucked the list from him. “You’ve targeted businesses in town to cater this event. You do know that Truman and Steinbrecker has recently had legal actions with several of them, right? They might not be in the mood to pony up.”
“Everyone’s in the mood to make money.” He tapped a pencil against his clipboard. “Besides, you’re the only game in town, and people always want to play in the big leagues.”
He was right. She was one of those people too. She studied the list and made suggestions about other items.
Todd nodded, scribbled notes onto his clipboard and said, “Yes, that’s better” or “That’ll work too” under his breath.
Nikka’s suggestions were good, but minor. They wouldn’t really affect the outcome of the press conference. Perhaps the real reason Lea had sent her out here was to give this guy face time. Make him feel important so he would turn all his attention to the event. Not to mention that the trip had put Nikka in charge, even if it was temporarily. She’d had a taste of being the boss, and she wanted more. Lea probably had plays on both fronts. Impressive.
“Okay, then,” she said when they had reached the last item, “let’s make tomorrow an event no one will ever forget.”
“Thank you for the opportunity to put on this event. I sincerely hope this is the beginning of a wonderful relationship between our two firms.” His lips closed with a pop, as if their interaction had a word limit and he had just reached it.
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