Schooled in Revenge

by Lasky, Jesse

  Ava could add one more name to that list: Charlie.

  “Just tell me one thing,” Jane said. “Did these three men put me in the condition I’m in?”

  Shay hesitated before nodding.

  “Why?” Her voice was forlorn.

  Shay stood, coming to stand next to her. He brushed the hair from her face, a surprisingly intimate gesture that made his feelings for her obvious.

  “Because they felt they had to.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Reinhardt dipped his hand in the marble fountain, skimming the water’s surface. The marble was smooth and white, as unique as the clouds that line Napa’s afternoon skyline. Scooping out some of the change shimmering at the bottom of the fountain, he studied a rare silver dollar among the other change.

  Someone had a very ambitious wish.

  Something caught his eye at the base of the fountain, near a small, subtle crack. He leaned in, rubbing his fingertips over something engraved in the hard stone: R3.

  It didn’t mean anything to him, but just below it were the words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: “That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.”

  He contemplated its meaning, its context as his eyes dropped to yet another inscription.

  “To Sylvie…”

  The name brought with it a memory of the elegant old woman, having brunch with her granddaughter at the club. Ironic that she would be immortalized on what was now Reinhardt’s property.

  His reflection in the water caught him off guard. The lines under his eyes were thicker, the creases in his forehead deeper. He consoled himself with the adage that with age comes wisdom, priding himself on plenty of the latter.

  In fact, he’d do it all over again if given the chance.

  “From such a gentle thing, from such a fountain of all delight, my every pain is born.”

  He turned to see Charlie walking toward him, dressed in a sleek black tux, tie loose around his neck, and a diamond-studded accessory named Bo on his arm.

  “Michelangelo’s words, not mine,” Charlie said. “Still, they’re oddly fitting, wouldn’t you say?”

  Reinhardt stood. “Not at all. I feel no pain. Neither should you. And if you do, keep it to yourself. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  Charlie glanced at the coin in Reinhardt’s hand. “If you need me to spot you a few bucks, all you have to do is ask,” Charlie joked.

  Reinhardt flicked the coin back into the fountain, causing a small splash. “Just contemplating the uselessness of this fountain. There’s more value in the coins tossed in the water than in the foolhardy wishes people make. This thing’s an eyesore. Maybe I’ll have it removed.”

  “It gives people hope, no?” Bo said with a thick Scandinavian accent.

  He leveled his gaze at her. “Hope is handing over the reins of one’s life to a fate that doesn’t exist.”

  Charlie kissed Bo’s cheek. “Go on in. I’ll meet you in the atrium for a drink.”

  Reinhardt watched her departure, Bo’s snug cocktail dress hugging every one of her considerable curves.

  “The fountain was installed for Sylvie to honor her work with the Relief/Recover/Rebuild Foundation,” Charlie explained.

  “Like I said, an eyesore, just like the old bat herself,” Reinhardt said. He looked at Charlie, a mean shine in his eye. “But if you like it, perhaps I’ll have you removed as well, although your friend, Bo, can stay.”

  “She’s not your type,” Charlie said. “I didn’t pay for her.”

  “What’s the point in that?” Reinhardt asked. “If you don’t pay, you don’t always get what you want.”

  “Ever just want someone to keep you company?” Charlie asked.

  “No,” Reinhardt said simply.

  They stood there in the late afternoon heat, staring each other down. Reinhardt couldn’t recall when their camaraderie turned to animosity. When they became adversaries instead of allies. Was it after Reinhardt bought the estate? After the Winters girl left town? Probably. Charlie always did have a soft spot for her, although he would never admit it at the time.

  “There was a fellow named Count Victor Lustig, Charlie. Are you familiar with him?” Reinhardt asked.

  “One of the greatest con men in history,” Charlie said. “Pretended to work for the French government and sold the Eiffel Tower. Twice. He even had the gall to con Al Capone.”

  Reinhardt looked Charlie in the eye. “A well-known quote from Lustig—and pardon my missteps with it, I’m paraphrasing—goes, ‘Everything turns gray when I don’t have at least one mark on the horizon. Life then seems empty and depressing. I cannot understand honest men. They lead desperate lives—’ ”

  “ ‘—full of boredom,’ ” Charlie finished.

  “Why are you still here, Charles?” Reinhardt asked. “You clearly have mixed feelings about our spoils. Perhaps a new mark is in order.”

  Charlie looked down at his reflection in the water. “I don’t think that’s who I am anymore.”

  Reinhardt knew it for the lie it was. Man couldn’t deny his true nature. Not really.

  He stood, slapping Charlie on the back. “Nonsense. We’re one and the same. I just have the courage to be honest about it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Ava stood on the porch, breathing in the dry Napa air and gazing at the golden fields stretching into the distance. It was hard to believe that only two days before, she was standing in this exact spot with Jon, the moon bright and swollen as he kissed her. Like so many things, she wished she could have the moment back.

  “There you are,” a voice said behind her.

  Ava turned to see Marie with Daniella, carrying a large pink cake with a single candle burning at its center. Shay, Reena, and Jane stood smiling behind them. They began to sing, the notes of “Happy Birthday” ringing through the porch’s wooden rafters, traveling out across the fields.

  “What…?” Ava began. She shook her head as the song came to a close. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

  “Of course,” Marie said, surprised. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  Ava wiped a tear from her cheek. “Because I didn’t.”

  She had been so consumed with thoughts and plans for the gala, for finally coming face-to-face with the people who had ruined her, that she had forgotten the gala also marked another occasion: her birthday.

  “I can’t believe you guys did this,” Ava said.

  “I had Daniella order the cake,” Marie said. “I remembered that it was your favorite.”

  Ava smiled, first at Marie and then at Daniella. “Thank you. Really.”

  Daniella smiled shyly.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Shay asked her. “Make a wish.”

  Ava looked at the cake, the candle dripping wax on the pink fondant, and closed her eyes. She thought of everything she’d lost. Everything she suffered. Then she wished. Not just to get it back, but to make those who had taken it pay.

  She blew out the candle and Marie and Daniella sliced thick pieces of cake and passed them around.

  Ava stood in the circle of friends new and old, laughing as Marie and Daniella regaled the others with stories of her past birthdays. She was surprised to find that remembering didn’t hurt as much as it once had, her pain dulled by the knowledge that she was closer than ever to making those responsible for it pay.

  Later that night, she was upstairs when a knock sounded on the bedroom door.

  “Shay,” she said when she opened the door to find him there. Her gaze dropped to the large gift box in his hands. “What’s that?”

  “Let’s just call it a birthday gift from Takeda.”

  “Takeda?” Even in the throes of revenge, the name seemed pulled from another life, another time. She had a flash of Rebun Island’s rocky cliffs, the briny air of the sea rising on the fog off the channel. “How does he…?”

  Shay raised an eyebrow, handing her the box. “You didn’t really think he was unaware of your whereabo
uts?”

  She shook her head, realizing that the notion was foolish. Takeda knew everything.

  “Should I open it now?” Ava asked, taking it to her bed.

  Shay followed her into the room. “That’s the idea.”

  She sat down, laying the package on the bed. The box was huge. She peeled back the crisp white wrapping paper and lifted off the lid, digging through mounds of tissue paper to a shimmer of violet silk.

  She lifted it from the box, stunned silent as a simple, violet sheath dress was revealed.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, looking at Shay.

  “Takeda thought you might be out of place at the Starling Gala wearing a karate gi.”

  “He knows we’re going,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  Shay nodded. “I know it’s your birthday, but Jane and Reena got dresses, too.”

  Ava felt an unexpected rush of shame at the thought of Takeda. “Does he know what happened at Tavern Red?”

  Shay leveled his gaze at her. “Ava.”

  “Right.” She nodded. “He knows everything. I keep forgetting.”

  “You’d do well to stop forgetting.” He stood to go. “Takeda forgets nothing, and while he offers you his support, you won’t ever be allowed back at Rebun Island unless you and the others succeed tonight.”

  Ava’s heart sank. She wasn’t even aware that she wanted to go back to Rebun to finish her training. The realization gave her a fresh round of determination.

  “What will I be doing while Reena infiltrates the meeting between Wells and Reinhardt?”

  Shay reached into his jacket and removed a manila envelope.

  “What’s this?” Ava asked, taking it.

  “A taste of what following orders feels like.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  They changed in the bathroom of a local hotel, not wanting to draw attention to their plans. It was kind of Marie to offer them shelter—especially since they had little money with which to pay her—but they couldn’t risk putting her and Daniella on Reinhardt’s radar.

  Shay waited in the lobby while the women donned the designer dresses Takeda had sent, each of them somehow perfect for the woman who wore it. Takeda’s knowledge clearly extended beyond linguistics and fencing.

  Reena was dazzling in white, the dress short enough to show off her mile-long legs. Her red hair was a fiery contrast to the dress’s purity, its cap sleeves demure against a plunging neckline.

  “You look amazing,” Ava said.

  The violet dress was even more beautiful on than it had been in the box, drawing attention to her curves while maintaining the classic brand of elegance that was a birthright of the Winters name. Ava wondered if Takeda had chosen the color as an homage to the wine that was her family’s legacy.

  “You both look amazing,” Jane said, admiring her own reflection and the mauve lace shift Takeda had sent her.

  By the time they arrived outside the estate, night had descended upon the terroir. Reena and Ava left Shay and Jane in Marie’s car, parked in the shadows of a side road rarely used by anyone but the field hands.

  “Wish us luck,” Ava said, lifting her gown as she exited the car.

  “Good luck,” Shay said.

  Jane was silent, brooding on her lack of a clear role in the night’s events. Ava sympathized, but even she didn’t know everything thanks to Shay’s now infamously locked lips.

  Moving across the long grass, Reena and Ava hurried down the steep hill that was the backbone of the estate. They glided past rows of grapes topped with netting to ward off preying birds. It was all strangely familiar, the rich smell of the crops guiding her home.

  Reena didn’t regard the scent with quite so much affection.

  “What the hell is that stink?” she muttered. “It’s rank.”

  Ava chuckled softly in the dark. “Fertilizer, ripening grapes… it’s the smell of a vineyard.”

  “Well, it sucks,” Reena said, cursing as her heel caught on one of the vines.

  “This way,” Ava said, leading Reena through a steep ravine that took them closer to the estate.

  In the distance, Lake Berryessa sparkled in the moonlight, its shine granting them a little extra light as they traveled under the dark umbrella of the Petit Verdot grapes that grew at the edge of the vineyard.

  Finally, they reached the back of the main house. They stood in the shelter of the vines for a couple of minutes, scanning the property for anyone who might be witness to their arrival.

  When the coast was clear, they hurried across the open ground to the back terrace. But instead of stepping onto it, Ava navigated around and under it, scanning the ground.

  “Damn it,” she cursed. “Where the hell is it?”

  “What are we looking for?” Reena asked.

  “The door,” Ava said.

  “On the ground?” Reena looked down, shuffling over the dirt at their feet, a faint echo sounding under her heels. “I don’t see anything.”

  “That’s because you’re standing on it.” Ava waved her away. “Move over.”

  She brushed aside the overgrown weeds near Reena’s feet to reveal a partially rusted door that even Sylvie hadn’t known about. Reena bent down to help her, both of them tugging on the metal handle until the door opened with a quiet creak.

  Ava brushed off her hands, glancing at Reena. “Follow me. And close the door behind you.”

  She stepped onto the first wooden tread and made her way into the darkness below them.

  “You okay?” she called up to Reena, hearing the hesitancy in her descent.

  “Yeah,” Reena said. “I just… I can’t see anything.”

  Ava reached back, taking Reena’s hand. “It’s okay. Just follow me.”

  A moment later, Reena’s voice cut through the darkness. “I’m sorry, Ava.”

  Ava continued down the steps without looking back. “For what?”

  “For acting the way I did when you first came to Rebun. I don’t know why I was such a bitch.”

  Finally reaching the last step, Ava stepped onto the hard-packed cellar floor. “I understand. In fact, it would have been easier if it had stayed that way.”

  “How would that make things easier?” Reena asked, reaching the end of the staircase.

  Ava pulled the string of a dusty lightbulb on the low-hanging ceiling. “Because then we wouldn’t care what happens to each other tonight.”

  The light flickered briefly before fully illuminating the space. The room was just as Ava remembered. A hidden gem beneath the grandeur of the main house, the ceilings were lined with redwood, the mahogany walls polished to a deep, rich shine.

  “Where are we? What is this?” Reena asked.

  “It was an old, unused storage room that I decided to restore after my grandmother passed. I needed a project. Something to keep me busy. It felt good to breathe life into something new. Although I guess that doesn’t make much sense.”

  Reena met her eyes. “Sure it does.”

  Ava looked around, the room a reminder of all she’d once planned. She wanted to expand her family’s legacy, but she had made all the wrong choices.

  “I really screwed things up,” she said softly.

  “Don’t even go there,” Reena advised. “That’s how people like Charlie and Reinhardt thrive—by making everyone else the scapegoat for their actions. They did this. Not you.”

  Ava nodded, trying to believe it.

  She set down her sequined clutch, the envelope Shay had given her sticking out of the top, next to a 1977 Pinot Noir. It was the year her parents got married. She smiled, taking it as a good omen.

  “What’s that?” Reena asked, tipping her head at the manila envelope.

  “A reason to believe in Takeda. That his training pays off and that we need to return to it when we’re done here.”

  Reena grinned. “What does he have on Charlie?”

  “Let’s just say that if Charlie is at all capable of regret, this will be enough to send him int
o a tornado of it.”

  “And with what I’ll be doing to him upstairs…,” Reena began.

  “Good-bye, Charlie.”

  They traded steely looks, their shared resolve further bonding them.

  “Let me check your makeup,” Ava said, pulling Reena under the lightbulb.

  Ava adjusted Reena’s short platinum blonde wig, a perfect match to the choker around her neck. Tipping her head, Ava checked her smoky eyes for smudges and studied the prosthetic nose Shay had applied using spirit gum adhesive. She had been surprised when he’d gone to work, although she shouldn’t have been.

  Apparently there was no limit to the expertise imparted under Takeda’s tutelage.

  “Looks good,” Ava said.

  Reena shifted nervously on her feet, all traces gone of the cool, collected woman Ava first met on Rebun Island.

  Ava leaned in to give her a hug. “You’re going to do great.”

  Reena nodded, taking a deep breath. “How will we find Reinhardt’s hired girl?”

  Ava brushed some dust off her hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll make an entrance and pick her out.”

  “An entrance?” Reena asked. “You’re not playing it low-key?”

  “This is Napa. A grand entrance is the only kind that counts.” Ava’s face was grim. “Besides, if all eyes are on me, no one will be staring at you.”

  Motioning for Ava to turn around, Reena smoothed out the wrinkles in Ava’s dress.

  Ava checked her watch. “It’s a quarter past eight. They’re meeting at ten. Let’s do this.”

  They exchanged a look. Sisters by fire.

  They were crossing the cellar, moving to the staircase that would lead them up to the upper levels of the house, when something caught Ava’s eye. She moved toward it, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her. But as she got closer, she knew she was right.

  Cobwebs crisscrossed the gilded frame. Ava reached down, brushing them away, and came face-to-face with her mother and grandmother. And not just them. She was there, too. All three of them staring back from the painting that had hung on the wall by the staircase for as long as Ava remembered.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She had assumed the painting was destroyed or sold. She had grieved its loss. But even greater than her surprise at its survival was her shock at its location.