“He’ll be over later.”
Beatrice was surprised and pleased that Gabrielle was requesting her company. Gabrielle spent most of her very limited free time with Jack. Even though she lived only one floor away, Beatrice was reluctant to drop in or call, afraid she might be interrupting the two.
“I’d love to. Where and what time should I meet you?”
“Here at six o’clock.”
“Sounds good. What should I wear?”
“Anything that makes you feel pretty. I’ll see you at six. Don’t be late,” Gabrielle said and hung up the phone before Beatrice could ask any more questions. Checking Beatrice’s name off of her mental “to do” list, Gabrielle moved on to the next item—a wedding dress. What would she wear for a last-minute wedding? She took a trip into her bedroom to find out.
Gabrielle opened the door and walked into her closet in search of something appropriate. Suit after suit, dress after dress ended up in the discard pile on her bed. Gabrielle was just about to give up in despair when she pulled out the perfect outfit. It was a stunning cocktail dress designed by none other than Maynard Scarborough. It was white and had a tank-style bodice in transparent mesh with sparkling beaded accents. Gabrielle went deeper into her closet and dug out a pair of matte-silver Manolo Blahnik pumps. From her jewelry box she selected a pair of dangling pearl earrings that had once belonged to Helene.
That task completed, Gabrielle called downstairs to the spa and made an appointment at two-fifteen to have her nails done. Next she pulled on a pair of jeans and a crisp white T-shirt, grabbed her jacket and purse, and headed out the door. She had some serious shopping to do.
“Mr. Hollis is downstairs,” the doorman announced at 5:35.
“Thanks, John. Please send him up.” Gabrielle opened the door to find Jack holding a large bouquet of calla lilies and white roses, their stems tied with a white satin ribbon.
“Wow!”
“Wow, yourself,” Gabrielle replied. Jack was dressed in a navy-blue double-breasted Armani suit. Under his jacket he wore a light-blue mandarin-collar shirt with very subtle burgundy stripes.
Jack whistled in admiration as he stepped inside and handed Gabrielle the flowers. The living room had been transformed into a floral wonderland, and soft candlelight flickered everywhere. Even the Christmas tree had been dressed in white poinsettias, with twinkling lights peeking from within the branches. A small wedding cake sprinkled with fresh flowers sat proudly on the dining-room table, surrounded by crystal champagne flutes and a bottle of Dom Perignon, chilling in a silver ice bucket.
“Merry Christmas,” Jack said, handing Gabrielle a small package. She might not have been able to read the name, Tiffany & Co., on the lid, but she surely recognized the trademark blue box tied with white satin ribbon.
“I want to tell you something before we go through with this,” he said. “I know that you’re not in love with me right now, but that’s okay. I promise to do whatever it takes so you’ll never regret your decision.”
Gabrielle was visibly moved by Jack’s words. She knew he was taking a big chance by making her his wife now. She opened the box slowly, her breath escaping in admiration when she saw the exquisite ring inside. Jack had chosen a magnificent six-carat, pear-shaped diamond sitting in the center of two large sparkling trilliants, all set in platinum. It was a showstopper—a ring that told the world that she was loved and treasured by a successful and generous man.
“It’s like a perfect teardrop of happiness,” she whispered.
“Even though ours is probably one of the shortest engagements in history, I couldn’t let you go without a proper ring. Here, let me put it on,” Jack said, removing it from the box. “Gabrielle Donovan, will you marry me?” he asked, slipping it on the appropriate finger. It fit perfectly.
“Yes,” she said, reaching up to meet his lips with hers. “I do adore you, Jack. And I respect, admire, and trust you. I can’t believe that you still love me in spite of my ‘problem.’ Love like that can’t go unreturned forever.”
“Did Doug know about your dyslexia?”
“Yes.”
“I knew he was an asshole, but I didn’t realize what a big one. I do owe him a huge favor, however. Because of his stupidity, you’re about to become my wife.”
“I don’t want to talk about Doug. He’s the past. Today’s all about the future,” Gabrielle told him.
“And speaking of which, there are a few things we need to work out before our guests arrive,” Jack said.
“Such as?”
“Where are we going to live?”
“Good question. Well, we have three choices—your place, my place, or we buy a new place.”
“Since yours is bigger, why don’t we move into it for the time being? Once we catch our breath, we can decide where we might like to live.”
“That sounds fine. I can put some things in storage to make room for your belongings,” Gabrielle offered.
“That was easy enough.”
“There’s one other thing. I’d like to keep my name professionally.”
“Changing your name is not an issue, but I’d like our kids to take my name.”
Kids? She and Jack had never discussed children. He had no idea how she felt about becoming a mother. Should she tell Jack about Tommy now, before they got married? Would he be able to handle another confession, particularly one so devastating? “How many kids do you want?” she asked tentatively, opting not to disclose her secret.
Before Jack could answer, the doorman buzzed again, informing Gabrielle that Fritz Henderson was in the lobby. When Jack opened the door minutes later, both Fritz and Beatrice stood outside. Once they were over the threshold, it became quite clear to both of them that this was to be more than just a simple holiday celebration. While they waited for the judge to arrive, Gabrielle took Beatrice to the side for a quick chat. “I guess you figured out what’s going on,” she said.
“Are you sure about this? Last time we spoke about Jack you said you weren’t interested in another serious relationship—and now you’re getting married.”
“I know it’s sudden, but it’s what I want.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“No, but I love him enough. Jack knows how I feel, and it doesn’t matter.”
“What kind of a man marries a woman knowing she doesn’t love him? Why is he rushing you into this? Doesn’t that make you wonder about his motives?”
“Actually, it was my idea to get married today.”
“And what about Doug?”
“Bea, don’t do this. Don’t ruin my wedding day.”
“The reason you aren’t in love with Jack is that you still love Doug. I know you do.”
“I’m marrying Jack,” Gabrielle said, lowering her voice even more. “At least he’s willing to accept me just as I am.”
“You told him?” Beatrice asked. “He knows you’re—”
“Sort of. He thinks I’m dyslexic.”
“Where did he get that idea?”
“I don’t know. When I told him I couldn’t read or write, he assumed it was because I was dyslexic. Who cares, as long as he knows and I don’t have to pretend with him?”
“Ladies, Judge Murphy is here,” Jack announced.
“Bea, please be happy for me,” Gabrielle pleaded.
“That’s all I ever wanted, honey, for you to be happy,” Beatrice said, sounding more accepting than she felt. She kissed Gabrielle and followed her into the living room. Flanked by Fritz and Beatrice, Jack and Gabrielle stood in front of the judge and the ceremony began. In less than five minutes Gabrielle Donovan and Jack Hollis were husband and wife.
After photographing and toasting the bride and groom, Beatrice found a seat and sat down. She felt physically ill. Everything had backfired in her face. How could Gabrielle do this to her? How could she not discuss her plans or feelings about this man who was now her husband? It pained her to think that Gabrielle would never find true happiness with this man s
he didn’t love.
If she’s not happy, it’s all because of me, Beatrice chastised herself. If I hadn’t come between Gabrielle and Doug, at least she would have married a man she really loved and who really loved her.
42
“You’ve seen her on the cover of Sports Illustrated not once, but twice. Her first calendar sold out in three days, making it the bestselling calendar ever. And she’s got a special on the Lifetime network tomorrow night. Put your hands together for my next guest, the very fine Miss Gabrielle Donovan!”
The crowd was in a frenzy, circling their arms wildly as late-night-talk-show host Craig Arthur led the audience in his trademark chant. Gabrielle, resplendent in black, walked slowly onto the stage. She really hated doing these talk shows. She was always afraid that some research assistant would dig up her past and serve it up to her in front of millions of curious viewers. Craig gave her a brief kiss and hug and led her to the interview sofa. Gabrielle sat deep into the gray couch and waited for the admiring crowd to settle down.
“I don’t know about you, but for me 1997 looks like a very good year,” Craig said in jest as he flipped through the calendar, setting off a frenzy of testosterone-related woofing. “Is it fair that one woman should look so good twelve months of the year?”
Gabrielle smiled modestly at his compliment. “The truth is, people don’t see me before the stylists and makeup people work their magic.”
“ ’Fess up now, what’s it like to be considered one of the ten most beautiful women in the world?” Craig asked, referring to the most current issue of People magazine.
“It’s flattering, but not really accurate,” Gabrielle explained. “I’m somebody’s creation. An image. I’m not the photo on the page. You probably wouldn’t even recognize me on the street without all the glamour getup.”
“Maybe not the street, but what about the boardroom? People are calling you Gabrielle, Inc. You’ve got your own swimwear line, cosmetic deals, this calendar, and now a television special.”
“I can’t model forever. I have to have something to fall back on when all this is over.”
“What about acting? Word is you’ve turned down parts in some very big films. Just not interested?”
Gabrielle sat back and crossed her arms in front of her. To those fluent in body language her subtle change in position signaled that she was uncomfortable with the subject matter. “I can’t honestly say that I’m not interested. I’m just not ready to act yet.”
“But aren’t you about to go one-on-one with Erica Kane of ‘All My Children’?”
“It’s a cameo. I’m just playing myself in a couple of scenes with Susan Lucci. Hardly a stretch. Now, why are you trying so hard to talk me out of modeling? Don’t you think I have at least a few good years left?” Gabrielle countered coyly.
“I’d say so. What’s the hardest thing about your job?”
“The traveling. I’ve been to Europe three times this past month. I’ve been back and forth across the U.S. at least four times in between.”
A collective “ahh” came up from the audience.
“Now, wait,” Gabrielle protested good-naturedly. “I know getting paid to travel to exotic places all the time sounds glamorous, but believe me, it’s no fun when you can’t remember what country you’re in, the airline has once again lost your luggage, and your body clock is still set for a time zone you haven’t been in for days,” she explained. “Plus, it gets lonely on the road.”
“How can any woman as superfine as you have trouble finding a willing male in any country?”
“I’m no different from most women out there. I wasn’t looking for just any man,” Gabrielle said demurely. “I was looking for the right man.” Once again applause and barks of approval filled the studio.
“My sources tell me that you’ve found Mr. Right. Rumor has it you recently got married.”
“For once the gossips got it right,” Gabrielle said, smiling. “In fact, my husband is here with me.”
“Let’s bring him out. I know I want to meet the man who is bad enough to claim you as his own,” Craig said, motioning Jack out of the wings and onto the stage. Jack stood close to Gabrielle, grasping his wife’s hand in his.
“I’d like you all to meet my husband, Jack Hollis,” Gabrielle announced.
“Sit down, man, you got some ’splainin’ to do,” Craig told Jack in his best Ricky Ricardo accent. “How did you manage to pull this off? We didn’t even know you two were engaged.”
“It was a brief engagement,” Gabrielle revealed. “We got engaged early Christmas Eve morning and married that night at home. It was really private and very special.”
“Come on, Jack, tell us how you managed to capture the heart of this lovely,” Craig said, flipping through Gabrielle’s calendar for emphasis.
“Fate and luck,” Jack said, male pride bursting out all over his face.
“No, I’m the lucky one,” Gabrielle interjected. “Jack has to deal with a lot being married to me,” she said, sharing a knowing smile with her husband.
“What? You snore or something?” Craig asked, setting the audience’s laughter off again.
“No. I’m talking about the travel, the gossip, the demands on my schedule—everything. He’s the sweetest guy in the world,” Gabrielle told the audience.
“We’ll find out more about the secret marriage of supermodel Gabrielle Donovan—or should I say Mrs. Jack Hollis—when we come back,” Craig told his television viewers over the thundering applause. “Gabrielle, why don’t you take us into the break? Just read what’s on those cards John is holding up there.”
Gabrielle suddenly felt very warm. She was sure that the boom mike above her was picking up the sound of her pounding heart, alerting the millions of people watching that she was panicked. She stared straight ahead into the footlights, unable to see any of the audience, still applauding madly. John stood less than twenty feet from her, holding the cue cards and pointing to the contents—words that meant nothing to her. She sat staring at those cards, her eyes frantically searching for a word she recognized, anything to give her a clue.
Is this how it’s going to happen? she thought. I’m going to get caught right here in front of millions. Her plan had always been that if she ever got caught in this kind of situation she’d simply faint, drawing attention away from her inability to read. Her plan, however, had not factored in a national television audience. How am I going to get out of this? she asked herself, gripping Jack’s hand.
Jack sat on the couch, unsure what to do. Should he take over and read the cards for his wife? But wouldn’t that draw more attention and make people more suspicious? Jack squeezed Gabrielle’s hand, silently relaying his support, while praying that she would find a way to extricate herself from this sticky situation and avoid embarrassing them both.
“Craig, I have a confession to make,” Gabrielle said softly.
Craig sat staring at his guest, wearing a puzzled expression on his face. Gabrielle sat before him looking totally serious and very uncomfortable. The audience sat spellbound, hushed in anticipation of some juicy news.
“I’m really embarrassed to admit this,” she said softly, “but I can’t read those cards.”
“What the hell?” asked the show’s director from the control room. “Camera two, push in, push in. Give me a close-up.”
“I can’t even see them. I don’t have my contact lenses in,” Gabrielle explained.
Craig Arthur looked directly into camera two. “You heard it here first. America’s number-one glamour girl is blind as a bat. We’ll be right back. Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” he laughed, teasing her as they went to break.
Once they were off camera, Gabrielle snuck a relieved look at Jack, who winked back proudly. He was impressed with her ability to rebound so gracefully. He gave his wife a kiss on the cheek. For a flash she had been tempted to reveal her secret and finally unload the monkey she’d been carrying around on her back all these years, but
when it came down to it, she just didn’t have the nerve.
With precision aim, Stephanie turned off the television from across the room with her sneaker. Using the remote, she turned off the VCR. She routinely taped talk and entertainment-news shows in hopes of uncovering tidbits to use in “The Visa Lee Report.” Stephanie circled the room several times and then sat down on the edge of her bed, trying not to hyperventilate.
Mrs. Jack Hollis? Oh, God, no. Oh, God, no, she repeated in her head. Stephanie stood up and, wringing her hands, once again paced the room. She hadn’t believed the gossip, mainly because Gabrielle’s travel schedule had been so intense lately, there’d been no time for her to get married. He couldn’t have married her. He’s mine. But he did. Damn it, he did. Stephanie couldn’t hold her misery inside any longer. What started as a slow wail from her toes resonated through her body and was released as a loud, woeful sob. She cried in self-pity, in resentment, and in hatred. The one thing she’d ever wanted, Gabrielle Donovan had kept from her. She walked over to the mirror and peered at her mascara-stained face, red and bloated from her tears. Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself together and made a promise to the woman in the looking glass. This final act of betrayal could not be tolerated, and it most definitely would not be ignored.
Doug turned off his television and walked over to the window. He wished he’d followed his first instinct and not watched tonight’s show. Who was he kidding? There was no way he would pass up any opportunity to see Gabrielle again, even if it was only on a twenty-one-inch television screen.
He had so many strong feelings for this woman, the most overwhelming being regret. Doug so regretted his words and actions on Gabrielle’s birthday. He should have been more forceful after the breakup and not ignored Gabrielle’s requests that he stay out of her life. And finally, the fiasco with Jack Hollis. His biggest mistake of all was the night at Nell’s when he’d driven Gabrielle away and straight into Jack’s waiting arms.
“ ‘He’s the sweetest guy in the world,’ ” Doug said aloud, mimicking Gabrielle’s words. “You certainly weren’t, you asshole,” he yelled at his reflection in the window.
Read Between the Lies Page 33
