What You Wish For

by Fern Michaels

  In the pretty blue-and-white bathroom, Helen stared at her reflection and winced. Who was this hollow-eyed, gaunt-looking person whose hair was standing on end? She peered closer to stare at her pale face and cracked dry lips. She wondered if she dared to take a shower. Maybe she would feel better if she did.

  Helen was doing her best to fit her legs into her favorite flannel pajamas when Julia entered the room behind the dogs.

  “I don’t think that was a wise idea, Helen. However, I understand. I always feel better after a shower and some body powder. I wish you had waited for me, though. You’re weak and wobbly, but that will go away as soon as you get some food in you. Just give me a minute to straighten the sheets and covers. I want you back in bed for at least another day.”

  “How did this happen to me?” Helen whispered wearily.

  “I think you were run-down when you got here. Stress. Germs. You name it. Several of our other guests have the same thing, but not as bad as you have it. It’s not the flu, just a virus. I had the doctor look at them, too. It’s one of those things that has to run its course. Another few days, and you’ll be up and about. I want you to eat everything on that tray and drink all the tea. The doctor wants you to take these high-potency vitamins and to drink all the fluids you can handle. The dogs are fine, so I’m going to leave you and get on with my work. If you need anything, ring the bell on your nightstand.”

  “Does that mean you’ve got a handle on the computer virus? Thanks, Julia. Have the dogs been eating?”

  “I set their food inside the doorway and eventually they ate it when they got hungry. The answer is yes as far as the virus goes. We’ve installed all new software and so far things are working again. For a while, we had to do everything by telephone. The telephone is such a marvelous invention. Archaic in some respects but marvelous just the same. I enjoy actually talking to people.”

  Helen nodded. She really didn’t care one way or the other. She’d tried to tell them Daniel would do something. His mission in life seemed to be to destroy everything she had any kind of contact with. It wasn’t her fault they hadn’t listened. “How did you get the doctor in here?”

  “I put a tranquilizer in the dogs’ food at lunchtime the day the doctor made his house call. I just made little cheese balls and tossed them on the bed. They were really drowsy when he got here. I had to do it, Helen. It was the doctor’s suggestion. It’s worn off now, and they’re fine.”

  “I have to get out of here, Julia. Daniel knows I’m here. He’s responsible for all those viruses that ate everyone’s files. He’ll keep at it. God only knows what the next one will be like. He’s probably got your telephone line tapped, too. He probably even knows I’m sick. He’s just waiting.”

  “Get that idea out of your head right now. You are in no condition to walk down the steps much less leave. A few more days and it will be a different story. Don’t you want to be here for our big Thanksgiving dinner? Four of our guests left yesterday so there are only five of us for dinner plus the dogs. When it’s time, I’ll help you but not one minute before.”

  “He’s going to come here, Julia. He’s probably sitting outside right now.” Helen groaned.

  “Good! Let him freeze his ass off. It’s twenty-nine degrees outside. About two years ago a man came here with an ax and tried to open the front door with it. He didn’t succeed. He found this place because his wife went back to him, and he beat it out of her. He was going to torch the house, but the police got here in time. He had six gallons of gasoline in his truck. He’s still in jail.”

  “What happened to his wife?”

  “She’s a vegetable in a state-run mental hospital. If your husband is as smart as you say he is, you’re not a match for him, Helen. I don’t mean for that to sound like you’re stupid. Men like your husband and the one in jail are a different breed. I think that you believe you can outsmart and outmaneuver your husband. He’s been planning this since the night you ran out on him. He’s obsessed. You cannot bargain, cajole, or outsmart someone like that. If the FBI can link any of these viruses to your husband, they’ll put him away for a very long time. If you try to do something, you’re going to end up screwing up your life and Sam’s life as well. Think about that.”

  Helen snuggled deeper into the comforter, the dogs next to her. “It’s a lot to think about,” she whispered. Within minutes she was sound asleep.

  Helen woke three hours later, ravenously hungry. It seemed easier to swallow, and the dull ache behind her eyes was gone. Maybe she would survive the virus after all. She lay quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping dogs. She’d lost three whole days of her life. She’d heard people use that same phrase many times and had always wondered how it was possible _to lose time. Now she knew. Three whole days. Seventy-two hours. Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes. An awful lot of seconds. Too many for her foggy brain to handle.

  She closed her eyes, trying to remember the dream she’d had just before waking. It was something about Sassie Lassie. A new product? Something to add to her line? When the dream refused to surface, Helen closed her eyes again. She wished she felt better and was able to make rational decisions. Julia was right. She was in no condition to do anything, much less think.

  Isabel Tyger’s fortune. Her fortune now. Could that fortune hold Daniel Ward at bay? Not likely.

  A belly chain! That was what her dream had been about. A thin gold chain with a paper-thin medallion that would hang directly below the belly-button. Sassie Lassie engraved on one side, the owner’s name on the other side. Fifty bucks a pop. She could buy chain by the yard, do the clasps herself, hire someone to do the engraving. Maybe $59.95. The $9.95 could eat up the engraving, the shipping, and the clasps. If she sold them for $69.95 the other $9.95 would pay for the chain and she could walk away with fifty bucks for each chain she sold. Sam would be so proud of her ingenuity. When he got done laughing that is.

  Sam would absolutely flip when he saw it. She smiled when she remembered his reactions to the feathers. Oh, Sam, I miss you so much.

  “Helen, is there anything I can get for you? More juice or tea?” Julia asked from the doorway.

  “My laptop. I need to check something. I need the pouch with the disks, too.”

  “Later, Helen. You need to rest. Look,” Julia said as she opened the blinds. “It’s snowing. It will probably just be a light dusting, but it looks so pretty coming down.”

  “It is pretty,” Helen said absently. “I would like some juice. Julia, there’s nothing wrong with my fingers. I feel less woozy now. I want to go to my web page and add something to my product line.”

  “Is your computer safe?”

  “Yes, we’ve had no problems so far.”

  “How about an hour on the computer? No more than that. I’ll take the dogs out. They might like the snow. I’m making some vegetable soup for lunch. One of the girls is baking bread.”

  “Sounds good.” Helen found her mouth watering for homemade bread and thick soup chock-full of meat and vegetables. “Go with Julia, and she’ll give you a cookie. I need my sketch pad, too, Julia.”

  “Your word, young lady. One hour!”

  “Okay, Julia. One hour.”

  Helen spent fifteen minutes sketching a slim model wearing a fine gold belly chain, a lacy bra, and bikini undies. For effect she added a white ermine hat to the model. She finished off the picture with cascading white feathers.

  If the shelter’s scanner still worked, Julia could scan it for her and she could have it on her web page in an hour’s time. If Sam checked the web page, he would know she was okay. Maybe she needed to add something to the picture. Of course, Max and Lucie trying to get the feathers as they fell. Sam would understand. She sketched furiously, so furiously that she was exhausted when Julia returned with the dogs.

  “They loved it. The snow is sticking to the ground. If it keeps up, we might get a few inches. I think there’s a warming trend starting tomorrow. I brought you some juice and a slice of toast. We
ll, well, what have we here?”

  “It’s a belly chain with a medallion that hangs below the belly button.”

  “I’ll take two,” Julia quipped. “Pretty sexy.”

  “Can you scan this onto a disk for me so I can add it to my web page?”

  “I can try, but I think it might be better if I call someone to take it to Kinko’s. I could have it back here in an hour or so. There’s no point in looking for trouble. Do you agree?”

  “Yes. Are you sure it isn’t too much trouble?”

  “Not at all. We have a list of volunteers who help us with things like this. Just out of curiosity, what are you going to charge for this?”

  “I think $69.95.”

  “In that case, I’ll only take one.” Julia laughed.

  “Yours is free. You can have as many as you want.”

  Julia giggled. It was a nice sound.

  “Drink the juice and take a nap. When you wake up, I should have the disk for you and lunch will be ready.”

  Helen didn’t protest when Julia closed the laptop and moved it to the little desk on the other side of the room. She was asleep before the door closed.

  Sam rolled over, his arm reaching out. When there was no warm body to be felt, he rolled back over. There would be no more sleep for him that night. He got up, turned up the heat in the hotel room, and then pulled on his sweatpants.

  In a few hours, when it was light, he was going to pack up his meager belongings and return to the house he’d shared so briefly with Helen. There were memories there, good and bad. If he had a mind to, he could stop at the supermarket and pick up a turkey. How hard could it be to roast a turkey? After he ate his dinner, he could make up some meals and take them to the pound for the animals. Yeah, yeah, that’s what he would do. A twenty-five-pound bird would provide a lot of meals for the animals if he could add dry dog food to the mix.

  His shoulders started to shake. If he didn’t watch it, he’d be blubbering like a baby. He wished he had some coffee. He had to remember to buy some when he got to the grocery store. Maybe there was an all-night store open, and he could go now. He vaguely remembered Helen saying the Pathmark in Middlesex Mall was a twenty-four-hour supermarket. It was a thought that required action. He sat down and sipped luke warm Coca-Cola that was left over from his cany-in dinner the previous night. Caffeine was caffeine.

  With little else to do, Sam turned on his laptop, connected it to the phone jack, waited for it to boot up, then typed in the address for Sassie Lassie. Ten seconds later, his fist shot in the air when he saw Helen’s latest creation. He stared hungrily at the resemblance to Max and Lucie.

  It was a message, he was sure of it. A message that said Helen and the dogs were alive and well. And then he laughed when he stared at the belly chain. Who in her right mind would order, much less wear, such a thing? Then again, what did he know about women’s fashions? Just for fun, he scrolled down to the order blank page and then burst into near-hysterical laughter. Obviously a lot of people were going to wear one of Sassie Lassie’s belly chains. The orders seemed to go on and on. Endless. There had to be close to a thousand orders. A new one popped onto the screen just as he scrolled to the end. Someone named Hillary Nolan was ordering two chains at 4:20 A.M. Amazing. At seventy bucks a chain, give or take a few pennies, Helen was going to make a fortune. Clearly he was in the wrong profession. What the hell was he doing crunching numbers when he could be out there marketing feathers and belly chains?

  Damn, he’d missed it the first time. He peered more closely at the screen, drinking in the sight of the two dogs. The dim lamplight must have cast a shadow on the computer screen when he first turned it on. Both dogs were wearing chains, medallions hanging loosely around their necks. He squinted and was able to make out the fine script that said Sam on Max’s medallion and Helen on Lucie’s.

  It was definitely a message from Helen to take heart. It was also confirmation of what Arthur King had told him: Helen didn’t want Isabel Tyger’s fortune. She was more than capable of making her own way. Be it belly chains, feathers, or sassy underwear, she would do it on her own.

  Sam unplugged the computer and dumped his belongings into a duffel. He was on his way home in less than ten minutes. He was halfway home before he remembered his intention to stop at the supermarket for a turkey. He made a wide U-turn and headed back the way he’d come. Yessirreee, he was going to have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

  22

  Daniel Ward huddled inside the silver Nissan. From time to time he turned on the ignition and the heater to warm his cold body. For days he had literally been living out of his rental car because he couldn’t desert his stakeout. Fast-food bags, boxes, and Styrofoam cups littered the floor on the passenger side as well as the backseat. He detested fast food, but it was cheap. On the passenger seat next to him was his state-of-the-art laptop. Underneath the seat, half-buried by grungy bags smelling of stale greasy food, was a gun he’d bought illegally.

  He hated the goddamn snow that was falling because he didn’t know how to drive in snow and wasn’t sure if the rental car had front-wheel drive. He stared at the ordinary-looking house, the house his wife had run to. One of Isabel Tyger’s famous shelters. Arthur King had bragged about the shelters, saying they were impenetrable. Nothing was impenetrable, as Arthur King had found out. Daniel had cracked Arthur’s codes, crashed his computers at least four times. And good old Arthur thought Ted Wexler was the one with the brains. “Asshole,” Daniel hissed between his chattering teeth. He blew on his hands to try and warm them, his gaze glued to the Tudor-style house across the street.

  He was going to give it one more day before he resorted to more drastic measures. Helen would leave soon. He was sure of it. If she didn’t, then he would have to do something about it. Helen, you are going to pay big-time for all the misery you’ve caused me. When I finally get my hands around your neck I won’t stop until you’re dead. I wish you knew how much I hate you for what you’ve done to me. I’m going to tell you when I finally get hold of you. I’ll kill that stupid dog of yours. And the other one, too. I already took care of that jerk you were living with. He said you dumped him, ran out on him. You stole his dog and left him swinging in the breeze. You didn’t care about him either. Why couldn’t you just do what I wanted you to do? Oh, no, you had to pretend you had a brain. You told everyone our business. I didn’t like it then, and I like it less now. I’m living like a bum. I haven’t had a shower in a week. I’m living out of my car like some derelict, and all because of you. Christ, I hate your guts, you slut.

  Daniel turned on the engine. He sighed the moment the heat blasted across his chest. He eyed the gas tank; half full. At some point he was going to have to find an all-night gas station. He’d search one out in the middle of the night once he was sure the occupants of the shelter were settled. It would never do to run out of gas just when he was coming into the home stretch.

  Warm and cozy, he relaxed. Maybe he should call his mother. Then again, maybe he shouldn’t call his mother. He hated her as much as he hated his wife. He hated his sister Amy, too. Before he could change his mind, he rummaged in his jacket pocket for his cell phone. He’d charged it earlier. He was still surprised that it was operational since he hadn’t paid the bill in two months.

  He had to psych himself for the call. He wondered why he even bothered to call her. In her eyes he was a failure. Once she’d called him a reject. As a child he’d longed to hear her call him Danny, or honey, or even son. She never had. More than once she’d called him a sissy or wimpy. God, how he hated her. She called Amy sweetie, or dear, or sometimes sweet cakes. Her tone of voice was always different when she spoke to Amy. Maybe that’s why he hated his successful stockbroker sister. He wondered if their attitudes would change when he flaunted Isabel Tyger’s money under their noses. Of course their attitudes would change. Still, they’d say the wealthy philanthropist didn’t leave it to him, she’d left it to his wife. They’d snicker behind his back and s
ay mean, cutting things about him. Things that seared his heart, things he could never forget.

  Once, when he was a youngster, his father had tried to explain his mother to him. “She’s driven to succeed. She wants to be rich and famous, and she works tirelessly to that end. Your mother know how to wheel and deal, how to press buttons, whose rear end to kiss and how to get along in the business world. I’m not like that. I don’t know why she ever married me. Probably because she would stand out more against her no-account husband.”

  Daniel flinched. His father was a good, kind man. Perfectly content with the small nursery he ran. Adam Ward knew everything there was to know about shrubs, trees, flowers, and grass. He loved what he did. He made a decent living, and he was an honest, hardworking man. Daniel regretted now that he hadn’t been more kind, more civil to his father. He’d been so busy all his life trying to please his mother, trying to succeed so she would be proud of him, that he’d ignored his father.

  He’d withdrawn during those years and concentrated on his computer, his only friend. It had all come easy to him and he’d excelled, and still she wasn’t proud of him. She still made cutting, scathing remarks. Once he’d raised his hand to her in retaliation for some remark. In the blink of an eye he sailed across the room, ending up sprawled on his back with his mother standing over him, taunting him with her verbal as well as physical prowess. His sister Amy had come into the room with his father and started to laugh. His father had offered his hand to help him to his feet. He’d shrugged it off. At the age of seventeen, he’d cried like a baby behind his locked door.

  God, how he hated her.

  The hatred drove him to dial his mother’s private line. He hated the fact that he needed to hear her voice. He hated himself for weakening and dialing the number. He hoped she wouldn’t answer the phone. She did.

  “Mother, it’s Daniel. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Daniel. And you? You haven’t called in a while. Does that mean you didn’t get the promotion?”