A Secret in Salem

by Sheri Anderson

  “Abby,” Chelsea interrupted, signaling to Abby’s laptop. “Olivia Gaines was brought up Catholic.”

  “It’ll get out faster on Spectator.com, Dad,” Abby reminded him.

  “Go for it, baby!” Jack said excitedly.

  Jack took the phone from Jennifer’s hand as their daughter hung up. “Where’s J. J.?” he asked.

  “At Theatreland with his friend Reggie from Notting Hill Prep,” she reminded him. “Then Reggie’s parents are taking them to dinner.” Noticing the gleam in his eye, she added, “Why?”

  “Press time’s not for three hours,” he said, gallantly scooping Jen up in his arms.

  “Jack Deveraux!” she scolded, knowing exactly where this was headed.

  “Get that, woman,” he added wryly, nodding to the champagne before burying his head in her neck.

  Caught up in the moment, Jennifer grabbed for the icy bottle. “What the heck?” She laughed as Jack whisked her up to their bedroom.

  THE NIGHT WAS SUPERB AND THE VIEW YET AGAIN BEAUTIFUL AS Marlena sat alone having room service on her terrace , which overlooked the Mediterranean. While she truly loved Maison du Noir, with its views of Lake Geneva, there was nothing like the sound of the ocean waves in the distance and the freshness of salt air.

  She understood the unmatched appeal of the city carved out of the rocky hillsides of Italy and France. The host to royalty and the brightest stars of painting, music, film, and dance, Monte Carlo was like a fairy tale. It was Disneyland for fabulously wealthy adults.

  Shawn and Belle had taken Claire back to the boat. Marlena had wanted them to spend the night, but they hadn’t brought extra clothes, so she understood. Besides, she could get a good night’s sleep, which she hadn’t truly experienced for years, when there was always a chance that John would need her in the middle of the night.

  The city was coming alive, and Marlena was antsy.

  She opened the leather-bound folder on the desk and perused the city guide that listed, in several languages, all the festivities Monte Carlo had in August.

  She had missed Elton John’s summer concert performance at the Prince’s Palace, which she would have loved. She was a huge fan of the fabulous work he’d done for over forty years with his writing partner, Bernie Taupin. OMG’s styles were a bit tame for the flamboyant performer, but she wondered if he’d return for the funeral.

  There was a jazz concert at Square Théodore Gastaud, which was less than a ten-minute walk from the hotel. With the security cameras scouring the city, plus the size of the police force, she felt safe walking there alone.

  After slipping on her linen jacket and throwing the cashmere sweater over her shoulders, Marlena headed out of her room.

  In the lobby, there he was again. Blake Masters.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” He smiled.

  It was a good smile, a warm smile, and the lines around his eyes crinkled just a bit. So many plastic surgeons Marlena knew were victims of their own profession, but not Blake.

  “How old are you?”

  “Forty-five,” he said.

  “Did I say that out loud?” She grimaced, embarrassed.

  “No, I read your mind,” he joked.

  “I’m sorry I never called you back,” she apologized.

  “That’s okay, I assumed you made other plans for dinner,” he added casually.

  “I, um, I did,” Marlena stammered. “I had room service.”

  “Well, you missed a terrific dinner,” he said. “Le Grill? Don’t miss it.”

  “You didn’t try Le Louis XV?”

  “Not the place for a meal solo,” he admitted. “You want to share that kind of experience with someone.”

  “Well, nice to see you again,” she said in a tone she hoped he could only interpret as friendly.

  “You too,” he said.

  After an awkward moment, they each headed for the hotel exit. They stopped. Shared a look.

  “The jazz concert?” Blake said.

  Marlena could only nod, chuckling.

  The doorman stepped forward. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping, but there are no more tickets for tonight’s concert.”

  So much for that.

  “You up for a walk?” Blake asked.

  Marlena hesitated a moment, then answered, “Sure.”

  The night air was more invigorating outside than in. The mood was festive and glamorous in Casino Square. Vacationers and summer residents filled the streets, and the yachts were party central.

  They chatted about nothing terribly important—the yachts, the weather, and the extravagance surrounding them, which was mind-boggling.

  On their way back to the hotel, they strolled past the designer boutiques, including Chanel, Cartier, and OMG. The OMG shop, unlike the others, was closed, and there were flowers and candles, mostly in yellow, in front of the door.

  “I’m here for her, you know,” Blake said simply.

  “Olivia Gaines?” Marlena was surprised.

  “She was a client for years, having the most minuscule tweaks you could imagine.”

  “You are good.”

  “So they tell me,” he said. “The family knew how important it would be for her to look perfect in her casket. Not like Princess Grace’s fiasco.”

  Princess Grace, the actress turned royalty, had been buried in a bad blonde wig to cover the scars from her fatal accident. Olivia had often joked that she would never let that happen to her. Now it didn’t seem quite so funny.

  “Her face, yes,” Marlena remembered.

  “They’re also performing an autopsy,” he added.

  “They are?” Marlena asked, puzzled.

  “That’s all highly confidential, of course,” he said, adding, “I really shouldn’t have even told you.”

  “Of course,” Marlena assured him.

  “She was really a piece of work, that one,” Blake said.

  “Tragic really,” she said gently. “Makes you realize you have to live every day as if it’s your last.”

  Pheromones were flying. He wanted to kiss her. She knew it. She also knew she couldn’t let him.

  “Time to par-tay!” they heard, breaking the moment as two young women came flying past them.

  “Par-tay on,” Marlena called to them, relieved for the interruption.

  They stopped in their tracks.

  “Marlena?” Abby said.

  “Hi,” Chelsea added, thrown to see Marlena.

  “What are you doing here?” Abby said. She was intrigued that Marlena was with a very handsome younger man. “I thought Belle and Shawn were going up to see you.”

  “Plans changed, so here I am.” Marlena smiled, not wanting to betray any patient-doctor confidentiality. She felt guilty and hated herself for it.

  “Dr. Masters, these are friends of my daughter Belle,” she said. “Chelsea and Abby.” Going into all the connections would be too much. “Girls, Dr. Masters is a colleague.”

  Why she was explaining to them, she had no idea. Overexplaining anything was always a bad sign.

  “Nice to meet you both.” He nodded. “Going to the casino?”

  “It’s been a long couple of days,” Abby said. “Girls gotta have some fun.”

  “Why don’t you join them, Blake?” Marlena asked, her voice cracking. She realized she suddenly sounded too familiar.

  “Not my thing, and I have an early day tomorrow,” he answered. “I’ll just walk you back to the elevator,” he said, more as a question than a statement, “and we’ll catch up tomorrow.”

  Now he’s overexplaining, Marlena thought. This isn’t good.

  They headed to the hotel entrance as Abby and Chelsea exchanged glances.

  “You don’t think…” Chelsea said, leaving the question in the air.

  “Nah…” Abby said, adding, “but he sure is hot.”

  Chelsea hit her on the shoulder.

  “Let’s go have some fun,” Abby said brightly, heading toward the gleaming Lamborghinis, Masera
tis, and Bentleys lined up outside the most famous casino in the world.

  Blake’s room looked over the courtyard and was much smaller than Marlena’s. In deep red tones, with fabric wall coverings and white-leaded furniture, it was more masculine, but still beautiful and featured a luxurious king-size bed.

  The bathroom had exquisite faience tiles, rich enamels, and the same plush towels and robes as in Marlena’s junior suite.

  Ten minutes after Blake left Marlena at the elevators, he was in a much-needed cold, cold shower.

  Marlena slipped into her bed. Settling against the down pillows, she felt good about herself.

  She opened a novel she’d been reading off and on for several months. It was Dominick Dunne’s Justice. Crime novels were a guilty pleasure of hers, and she loved his writing.

  After a few moments, something dawned on her.

  Autopsy? Why would Olivia Gaines be having an autopsy?

  She pondered that for a long moment.

  Blake said it was strictly confidential. Why?

  Marlena was drawn back to thoughts of him. She knew what he wanted and still wants, and the Hôtel de Paris could surely lure even the most loyal spouse into an indiscretion.

  But she wouldn’t.

  She couldn’t.

  John Black was the only man she wanted.

  And if she knew he was at a hotel in London at that moment, with another woman, it would have broken her heart.

  “THANK GOD THEY’RE NOT HERE,” CHARLEY SAID AS SHE walked out of Princess Grace Hospital on Chance’s arm.

  There were no paparazzi outside when Chance picked up his sister. The city was buzzing with even more celebrities than ever, after Dalita Kasagian’s embarrassing, overblown bash and Olivia’s upcoming funeral. “Your accident is already old news,” he said.

  “To everyone but us,” she said sadly.

  Chance opened the door of his silver ice Maserati and helped her in. Charley had always been the bright light of the family. She was the one who cheered everyone up when they were down and who had an inner strength they admired. For him to see her so emotionless was especially painful.

  “Right now that’s probably best,” he said. “The last thing we need is someone following our every move.”

  “Is the autopsy—” she said, faltering.

  “It’s done,” Chance said. “Now we just have to wait.” Chance punched the Start button, the engine hummed, and they headed to the villa.

  When Chance turned left instead of right, Charley gave him a look.

  “Thought we’d go the back way,” Chance offered.

  “No,” Charley said. “It’ll take forever. I’m okay, really.”

  Hoping she was telling him the truth, Chance flipped a U-turn and headed back up the road Charley and Olivia had been on when the accident happened.

  Chance turned up the volume on the sound system. Listening to Katy Perry always cheered her up, and “California Gurls” was Charley’s favorite song. Well, before the accident, that is. He hoped it would distract her.

  It didn’t.

  The turn where they had had the accident was coming up, and Chance didn’t know if he should ignore it. There was still caution tape across the broken rail, and yellow candles and flowers similar to the ones in front of the boutique.

  “If that guy on the bicycle hadn’t been there, maybe I could have done something,” she said and softly began to cry.

  Chance took her hand and opted not to question her.

  There were indeed paparazzi in front of the gates to the villa. A few stragglers were fascinated with the investment scandal.

  Chance activated the remote, and the gates opened.

  “We’re going to lose the villa, aren’t we?” Charley asked.

  “My guess is yes,” Chance offered. “Dad screwed over the investors to the tune of 1 billion euros.”

  Charley flinched. She knew it was bad, but not that bad.

  “We always liked camping,” he said, trying to lighten the moment.

  The front door opened as they drove in. Richie was in the doorway, and the paps got a shot or two of the man reviled for his actions.

  Charley was a mess. Not only had she lost her mother, but her father was a felon. Truth was, she loved him anyway. She just no longer trusted him.

  Chance got Charley’s belongings out of the car as Richie took her in his arms. It was a long and awkward hug.

  “You look good,” Richie said, brushing back her hair. The bandage on her neck was more evident.

  They moved into the house.

  “I have to check with the doctors tomorrow,” she said.

  “The funeral’s at five,” Richie said. “And if you’re not up to going…”

  “I have to be there—”

  Charley stopped again. She wanted to call him Dad but couldn’t. “I need to go up to my room,” she added.

  Charley made her way through the home she loved, up the stairs to her bedroom, which had a panoramic view of the sea in the distance.

  “We have a court date next Tuesday,” Chance told his father.

  The proceedings were all going as planned.

  “You really should plead innocent,” Chance advised.

  “I’m guilty as sin, Chance,” Richie replied. “Why drag this out?”

  “To buy us some time,” Chance said.

  “After Madoff, it’s all pretty cut-and-dried,” Richie said as he poured himself a scotch from the bar. “Anything?” he added, motioning to the bar.

  “Still recovering,” Chance said.

  “I heard you come in at five a.m.,” Richie said, raising his glass.

  “We’re still in Monte Carlo,” Chance answered. It helped that he was in his midtwenties.

  “You should take three aspirin when you hit the sack,” Richie said. “Never a hangover.”

  “What about those pills Mom got into?” Chance asked.

  Richie’s stare softened. “None left.”

  Richie didn’t even look for them.

  Suddenly, a buzzer went off.

  “If it’s another of those damn reporters…” Richie scowled.

  “Yes?” Chance said, looking at the security monitor.

  “This is Shawn Brady.” Shawn was at the gate with Marlena in the passenger seat.

  “Charley’s expecting me,” he said. “I just spoke with her.”

  “Give me a minute,” Chance said.

  He checked with his sister, and yes, she had spoken with Shawn and wanted to see him and Marlena.

  Richie wasn’t sure this was a good idea. He loved his daughter and knew she’d been hit hard by the accident and the incredible shame he’d brought to the family, but he had no idea who this woman was who would be talking to his daughter.

  “She trusts this guy for whatever reason, Dad,” Chance said. “Maybe because she has his blood flowing through her veins.”

  When Chance opened the door, and Richie saw Marlena standing there, he changed his mind. Not only was she beautiful, but he sensed a warmth and kindness he’d never seen in Olivia. While Olivia had always pictured herself as the epitome of class, he realized Marlena had it in spades.

  “Richard Gaines,” he said, extending his hand as Marlena entered with Shawn. “And I have no excuses for the chaos I’ve wrought.”

  “I’m here to neither judge nor treat you, Mr. Gaines,” she said, not taking his hand. “Just here to see if I can help a friend of my son-in-law’s.”

  “No harm, no foul.” Richie smiled.

  My God, she’s beautiful, he thought. If only I weren’t such a scumbag and felon.

  “Char said she’d meet you in the sunroom,” Chance interrupted. “Right this way.”

  Charley was in one of the overstuffed chairs in the room that opened to the rose gardens and tennis court, and she was staring at a framed photo when Chance entered with Shawn and Marlena.

  “Sugar?” Chance said.

  “Oh, hi, Shawn,” she said softly. “And Dr. Evans?”

/>   “Why don’t you call me Marlena?” Marlena said warmly. For some reason, she felt formality would have been totally inappropriate.

  “I’m headed to meet Jackson about Mum’s funeral,” Chance explained. “Don’t you worry about a thing,” he added to his little sister.

  “I trust you, Big Brother,” Charley said with a hint of sadness. “I always have.”

  “Mind if I take a look around?” Shawn asked, wanting to give Charley some time alone with Marlena.

  “There’s an incredible view just beyond the courts,” Charley told him. “You can see them readying for tomorrow’s race.”

  The Palermo–Monte Carlo yacht races were all the next week. She knew that would fascinate Shawn, and it did.

  “Thanks,” he said warmly.

  Shawn headed out, and Marlena observed how Charley watched him. The two had a connection that was immediately comfortable and caring.

  “He’s a great guy,” Charley said warmly.

  “And a great son-in-law,” Marlena added.

  Charley managed to smile. She was well aware he was married, and actually appreciated Marlena being protective of her daughter.

  “I like you,” Charley said.

  “Same back,” Marlena responded. “And I’m so sorry for what you must be feeling.”

  “You have no idea,” Charley said, her shoulders sagging as she looked at the photo in her hand.

  “Disneyland Paris,” she said, showing Marlena the image.

  “I was five. The guys were just teenagers and wanted nothing to do with me.”

  The photo was Charley with Olivia and Richie on either side of her. She was wearing a pink princess dress, and they were in front of Le Château de la Belle au Bois Dormant—Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. They were flanked by all the costumed princesses, Mickey, Minnie, Goofy, and Pluto. She had been one spoiled little girl.

  Charley chuckled sadly. “I never noticed before. Look how my…dad…was staring at Princess Aurora.”

  Indeed, Richie’s eyes were glued to Aurora’s chest.

  “Look at your mother, though. She obviously adored you,” Marlena said reassuringly.

  Charley sighed. Silently, she rose from the chair and placed the framed photo amid a dozen or so elegantly framed family photos from their trips around the world.