What You Wish For

by Fern Michaels

  “Christ, no! We didn’t talk about it because we were just little kids, and maybe we thought we were wrong. I don’t think Izz realized . . .”

  “The hell she didn’t. She knew. She’s the one who brought it up first. She mentioned it the last time we were out here together. It’s over now. Life is going to go on. How do you think this will is going to go over when it’s made public?”

  “Like a lead balloon. Do you care, Gerry?”

  “All I care about is carrying out Izzie’s wishes. After that, I don’t care what happens. Do you?”

  “Not really. We’re just two old codgers coming down the home stretch. Seems like we should do something, you know, memorable. For some damn reason I thought Izz would be here forever and outlive both of us. I wasn’t prepared. There’s this . . . this. . . tremendous void in my life now. I wake up automatically at four in the morning and wait for the phone to ring. We’re soaking wet, Gerry. I know you have a key to Izz’s house. Let’s go up and dry out. We can make some coffee and sit in the kitchen like we used to. I need to show you the detective’s report on Daniel Ward. The truth is, there isn’t any report. He lost the son of a bitch weeks ago.

  “I was thinking, Gerry, why don’t you and I go East and see Helen Ward. We can tell her the news firsthand. If you don’t like that idea, let’s call her.”

  “Izzie wouldn’t like that, Artie. Izzie liked to go by the book. With the exception of those times when she added a new page,” Gerry said, struggling to get up from his cramped position on the wet ground.

  “It’s hell getting old, isn’t it?” Artie said.

  “It beats the alternative,” Gerry said, swinging the bottle around in a circle. “We’ve both had enough of this.” He upended the bottle, watching the amber liquid puddle at his feet. “She’s here, you know. All around us. And there’s that little bit of her we buried with Boots. This is our place, Artie.” Gerry shook his head to clear it. “What did we decide? Are we going to let the lawyers handle it, or are we going to go against Izzie’s wishes?”

  “I say we let the lawyers handle it. We might screw it up.”

  “Okay,” Gerry said agreeably as he lurched his way back to the Tyger house.

  “I feel like bawling,” Artie said.

  “Then bawl.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  “Me too, Artie, me too. It’s never going to be the same again. I thought the golden years were supposed to be wonderful. I wonder who started that lie. I’d like to pop him right in the nose.”

  “Izz said it first, as near as I can remember,” Artie said, blowing his nose lustily.

  “Oh.”

  17

  “Honey, it’s time to sit down and talk. It’s been three weeks since you received those legal letters, and you haven’t said a word about what you’re going to do. Everything in our life feels like it’s been put on hold. Even me. I’ve respected your feelings, but I think it’s time we move on here. You’re jumpier than a cat in a rainstorm. I’m starting to get jumpy myself, so I have an idea of how you must feel. Even the dogs are picking up on your feelings. Now, let’s talk.”

  Helen reached for her coffee cup. She had to give serious thought to curtailing her caffeine these days. “If you mean what am I going to do about those two legal letters, the answer is I’m going to do nothing. I don’t know anything about that law firm. The only way they can know anything about me is from Daniel. Therefore, I am not going to call them. Are you saying if you were in my place you would call?”

  “Hell, yes, I would.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, Sam. There is no Daniel Ward in your life.”

  “Then let’s get him the hell out of your life once and for all. You’ve been waffling these past weeks, and you canceled your appointment with the attorney in town. We need some kind of game plan, Helen.”

  Helen stared out the kitchen window. “I understand how you might think that, Sam. The truth is, my airline ticket arrived today.”

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  “That I was leaving or that the ticket arrived?” Helen asked, stalling for time.

  “Both,” Sam snapped.

  “I was going to tell you this evening. I knew you would ask a lot of questions, Sam, and I don’t have any answers. I’m leaving next Tuesday. If you travel in the middle of the week, the fare is cheaper.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t give you a specific time or date, but I will be back. When I return, I really will be Helen Stanley.”

  - “You’re Helen Stanley now,” Sam said adamantly. He finger combed his curly hair, causing it to stand on end.

  “No, Sam. The law says I am Helen Stanley Ward, deceased. I’m going to change all that. I have my wits about me now. Those letters . . . Lucie . . . I got thrown off stride for a bit. I know what I have to do, and I’m going to do it. You have to let me do this my way.”

  “Okay, honey. I bought something today for us.”

  “A present?”

  “Not really. I got us beepers. I’ll feel better if you have one. I got one for Les, too, in case I can’t get to a phone right away. You just hang it on your belt. They’re real easy to use. We can practice later till we both get the hang of it. Let’s build a fire tonight and pop some corn.”

  “Sounds good. A night off from packing merchandise is okay with me. It was sweet of you to get the beepers.”

  “That’s because I’m a sweet guy. Now, let’s go rake some leaves. The dogs can run in the yard. Don’t look at me like that, Helen. We are not going to hide out. We’re going on with our lives.”

  “Do we get to jump in them when they’re piled up? I saw some of the neighborhood kids doing that when I drove home.”

  “Absolutely. It’s kind of nippy out so layer your clothing. The truth is, it feels like snow.”

  The rest of the day and evening passed in a blur for Helen. She slept fitfully and was up an hour before Sam staggered into the kitchen. “What did I miss?” he mumbled.

  “Nothing, Sam. Lucie had to go out so I figured I might as well stay up. I can get in an hour or so of packaging so UPS can pick up early. I can make some pancakes if you like.”

  “Not for me. Just coffee. I have a seven-thirty meeting. You okay, honey?” Helen nodded. “Don’t forget to take your beeper with you.”

  “I won’t forget, Sam.”

  In her pajamas and fuzzy slippers, Helen worked steadily packaging and labeling her orders. The moment Sam left the house, she headed for the shower.

  At nine-thirty she was ready to start her new day. Her heart took on an extra beat as she carefully loaded her packages in the back of the Explorer and helped the dogs into the backseat. She sat quietly for several minutes, craning her neck to look out the rearview and side-view mirrors for any vehicle on the street that looked like it didn’t belong. Satisfied, she backed out of the driveway and headed toward her shop.

  Fifteen minutes later, Helen settled the dogs in the back storage room, put on a fresh pot of coffee, and turned on her computer.

  This was the part of her business day that she liked the best. Knowing she was in her own shop, doing business, selling her own creativity and actually earning a living. Something Daniel Ward said would never happen. She liked sitting in the small cubbyhole she designated as her office, drinking coffee, smoking her first cigarette of the day, and watching the hands on the clock. She had forty-five minutes until it was time to open the blinds and unlock the front door. Forty-five minutes of Helen time as Sam called it. She looked at the clock now. Sam would be calling soon, something he always did before she opened the doors. She continued to watch the hands on the clock and started her countdown. Rarely was she more than a minute off either way. The phone rang almost immediately.

  “Sassie Lassie,” Helen said briskly.

  “Hi, honey.”

  Helen’s voice dropped to a throaty murmur. “Hi, yourself. I was just thinking of you, Sam. I love you so much
. I just wanted you to know that.”

  “I do know, honey. I love you just as much. You wearing your beeper?”

  “Yes, Sam, I am. Are you wearing yours?”

  “You bet. Makes me feel important. Gotta run, honey. I have another meeting in ten minutes. I hope you sell everything in your store today.”

  “Me too. Love you, Sam.”

  The hands on the clock read 10:50 when Helen rinsed her coffee cup and crushed out her cigarette. She was about to open the door leading to the interior of the little shop when she heard a knock on the front door of the shop. A customer? Daniel? Who? Lucie struggled to sit up as did Max, waiting expectantly to see what she would do. By cracking the door a half inch she could peer into the dimness of the shop. She took a deep breath when she saw the handle of the door turn. The specialty locks Sam had installed were in place. She let her breath out slowly as she continued to stare at the door. The parchment shade on the door showed her the outline of two men. She thanked God for the bright October sunshine. Two? Why would two men be coming to her shop? In all the time she’d been open for business she’d only had three male customers, and one of them had been accompanied by his wife.

  Helen knew she was being ridiculous when she kicked off her shoes and dropped to a low crouch, but she didn’t care. She slithered out the door and crab-walked behind the counter to the small front window. By squinting she could peek through the tiny openings of adjustable strings on the parchment shade. Two strangers. One old, one young. Both carrying briefcases. They looked like bankers or Wall Street types. She bit down on her lower lip.

  The door handle moved again followed by more solid knocking. Helen crab-walked her way back to the storage room, leaving the door slightly ajar. “Shhhh,” she said to the dogs. “Here, chew on these,” she said, handing out two rawhide bones.

  Helen poured fresh coffee, aware that her hand was steady. She marveled at how calm she felt. When the phone rang she almost dropped the cup of coffee. So much for being calm. When it stopped ringing she deflated like a pricked balloon. With shaking hands she dialed the number that would give her access to her voice mail and then pressed the numbers for her code. She followed the directions to listen to her messages, saving the business messages by pressing the number 2. She held her breath while the operator gave her the date and the time of her last call. She listened to the message, saved it, and then played it back three times.

  Miss Baker, This is Seymour Johnson. I’m an attorney in San Jose, California. There is a matter of the utmost importance that I must discuss with you. I’m making this phone call from the front door of your shop, which appears to be closed. I’m staying at the Clarendon on Highway 27 in Edison. Please call me as soon as possible. In addition, I’ve been leaving messages for you everywhere I could think of, your Internet e-mail, certified mail, and regular first-class mail. We need to talk, Miss Baker, before the newshounds get hold of this story.

  Helen took a long, deep breath before she doubled over. Newshounds? What story? The story of Isabel Tyger’s program or the story of her miserable marriage to Daniel? She looked down at the beeper attached to her brown-leather belt. She found herself shaking her head ever so slightly. She couldn’t involve Sam in this. No matter what he said, she couldn’t jeopardize his job.

  She needed to go home, and she needed to go home immediately. First things first, though.

  She logged on to her computer and clicked on her web page, where she quickly typed a notice to be posted within the hour. It was simple and to the point.

  To All Sassie Lassie customers,

  Due to the heavy demand for our merchandise we are curtailing all Internet orders for the time being. The moment our suppliers can match the demand for Sassie Lassie apparel, a notice will be posted. Thank you all for your patronage. We all look forward to a quick solution to what we hope is a temporary delay.

  Helen spent another fifteen minutes downloading all her files and copying them onto disks. She slipped the small packet into her purse. Helter-skelter, she yanked and pulled at the gossamer apparel in the showcases, leaving empty boxes and tissue paper strewn everywhere. A tight knot on the heavy-duty trash bag meant she was ready to go.

  It was time to move on.

  Without Sam.

  Both dogs whimpered in the backseat. “Everything is going to be all right,” Helen repeated over and over until she started to believe the words herself. How could anything ever be all right again with Daniel stalking her? And he was stalking her. She could almost smell, his presence.

  Helen hit the automatic garage-door opener attached to her visor three doors from her rental house. She sailed up the driveway and into the garage. She hit the button a second time. The door closed within seconds. Safe.

  “Into the house, guys. Quick. Cookies for everyone,” she cajoled when it looked like Max was going to balk at these weird goings-on. The mention of his favorite treat made him pick up his feet to follow Helen into the house.

  Helen wasted no time once she was inside the house. She immediately ran to the bedroom and packed her bag. The sock with the money went into her purse. Lucie’s carry-bag, her mouse, and a ragged washcloth she was attached to went on top of her own things.

  Should she leave a note for Sam? Of course not. The less he knew, the safer he would be. I’m so sorry, Sam. So very, very sorry. I can’t risk Daniel hurting you. I wish it didn’t have to be like this. You don’t know Daniel. If you did, you would run for cover. A lone tear dropped onto the back of Helen’s hand.

  Helen was carrying the nylon travel bag through the kitchen to the garage when the doorbell rang. She almost fainted, the sound shattering any and all feelings of calm she might have previously felt. “Shhhh! Not a sound. Shhhh,” she hissed. “Stay, Max. Watch Lucie.”

  The doorbell pealed a second time just as Helen ran down the hallway to the bedroom, where she peeked through the skinny miniblinds. The same two men with their identical battered briefcases stood on the stoop ringing her bell. Then she looked across the street at the silvery car parked at the curb. Daniel!

  She almost lost it then. She would have if the two dogs hadn’t run to her, toppling her onto the floor. She clung to both of them as she fought the dizziness that threatened to engulf her. “Shhh, we have to stay here so they won’t see us. We need to be quiet. Very, very quiet.” Lucie crawled into her lap, whimpering and whining. Max prowled around the room, his growls deep and hoarse, but he obeyed Helen’s orders not to bark.

  Were the two men with Daniel? Or was it the other way around, and Daniel was with them? Did the three of them follow her from the shop? Maybe it was a parade and everyone was following everyone else. Did they know she was here, hiding from them? Or were they just staking out the place? She clenched her teeth as the red-hot anger she’d felt so often of late took over.

  What are my options? Helen wondered. Few to none, she answered herself.

  Helen hugged her knees, Lucie cuddled in her lap. She could call Sam or Les and they would come on the run. She knew instinctively if she did that, something terrible would happen to Sam and the young computer whiz. She couldn’t risk calling either one of them. Three against one woman and two dogs. Not good odds. Try and make a run for it. Go somewhere public. And then what? You have a plane ticket. Maybe you can go on standby to California. All you’ll have to do is pay a fee for changing the ticket. What was Newark Airport like? She’d never been there. She would have to park the car and walk. Alone. If she left the car at the door, it would get towed. She was right the first time. As far as options went, they were few to none.

  Unless . . .

  Helen’s arm snaked out to reach for the phone on the nightstand. She dialed a number she knew she would never forget as long as she lived. She waited, hardly daring to breathe, for someone to pick up the phone. The voice was bright and cheerful. “This is Mona, how can I help you today?”

  “Mona, this is . . . this is Nancy Baker. My husband found me. Right now he is sitting outside my house i
n a silver car. I think it’s a Nissan. There are two strange men ringing my doorbell. They came to my shop earlier today. I didn’t open the door. I just left and came home. I know there is a shelter here somewhere. Can someone come and get me? Please, I need your help.”

  “Give me your number, Nancy. I’ll call you back in fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay.” She spoke slowly, enunciating each number carefully. She sat back to wait. After two minutes, the men at the front door left. Five minutes later, she heard a car drive away. But when she looked outside, Daniel was still there. Precisely fifteen minutes after Mona had hung up, the phone rang.

  “Listen to me carefully, Nancy. This is what I want you to do....”

  An hour passed and then another hour. It was two-thirty when Helen heard the sound of a police siren on the street. She peeked through the blind to see a police officer walk up to the silvery car. Ten minutes later the police cruiser escorted Daniel down the road, his lights still flashing, the siren silent.

  “Come on, Max. I have to put you in Sam’s room. God, I don’t want to leave you, but I can’t take you with me. If I could, I would. I’ll find my way back here someday. I promise. I’ll bring Lucie back. I don’t know when that will be. Damn it, I can’t leave you. You’re part of my life, too. Sam will just have to understand. Come on, you can come with us. Hurry. Get your blanket, Max. Good boy,” she said, stuffing it in the nylon bag. “Into the garage. Quick now. Someone is picking us up. You need to be quiet and you need to be good.” Forgive me, Sam. I don’t know what else to do. You know I’ll take good care of Max.

  Lucie whimpered and clung to her mistress.

  Helen paced, the two dogs curled next to each other at the side of the bed. They watched her. From time to time she stooped down to pat them on the head. She muttered to herself, or was it to the dogs? She didn’t know and didn’t care. She was safe. The dogs were safe. Where was Daniel? Did the police arrest him? What a stupid thought. All he was doing was sitting in his car. Daniel could charm the wings off a butterfly if he wanted to. And the two men, where were they? More to the point, were they the attorneys they pretended to be? Did the people from the shelter take care of them, too?