Some Like Them Rich

by Shirley Hailstock

  His face gave nothing away.

  “You don’t,” I said. “I am not accountable to you or anyone else for my actions. But …” I stopped. “But I will answer your question. And I will speak the truth.”

  This time there was a reaction. Again it was so imperceptible that had I not been looking for it, I might not have seen it. Don’s jaw tightened and I could tell he was holding his breath.

  “I love Casey.”

  Don sighed, crossed his arms, and cocked his head. He looked at me until I felt uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than I already was, that is.

  “Why don’t we test that?”

  “I’m in no mood for any tests.” I pushed past him and took a step when his hand grabbed my arm and stopped me. He slapped a key in my hand.

  I looked at it. “Oh no.” I made a sound like a grunt and tried to hand it back.

  “Midnight,” he said.

  “I won’t be there.”

  “Liar,” he whispered and disappeared down the street.

  Chapter 23

  This was not happening. I put a hand to my head and clenched my teeth. My jaws hurt from holding in the scream. Part of it burst out and I made a noise so rude people passing stared at me. I started moving. Momentarily disoriented, I couldn’t think of where I had parked the car. I started and stopped twice, walking first one way, then back in the direction I’d come before I remembered.

  Getting inside the heated vehicle, I threw the hotel key on the seat. If he thought I would even consider such a bald offer, he was mistaken. Not again. I was engaged now. And while I wasn’t head over heels in love with Casey, I respected him.

  Midnight!

  The word rebounded in my head as I cursed Don. I wouldn’t wait for midnight. I would return his damned key right now. He could find it when he got back to his bungalow. I wouldn’t even leave a note. He could make what he wanted of it. I did not care.

  Pulling out of the parking space, I headed for the hotel. It was the first time I’d freely gone there since waking up in Don’s bed the morning of our date. As usual the place was a mecca of activity. Finding a parking space took a while, giving me more time to raise my anger quotient.

  A car pulled out of a space and I whipped mine into it with the speed of a NASCAR driver. Leaning over, I grasped the hotel key from where it had fallen on the seat. Slamming the door, I headed for Don’s bungalow. I jammed the key in the lock and waited for the click that released the mechanism. It didn’t work. I tried it again, pulling it out and reinserting it. Finally I pulled it out and looked at it in disbelief. He’d given me the wrong key.

  As I stood there, baffled, the door opened and she stood there, the woman from the ferry and the restaurant. The woman Don had taken into his arms and kissed. This was all I needed, a confrontation with his new lover.

  “Excuse me, I have the wrong room.”

  “Who are you looking for?” Her voice was soft and sexy. She wore shorts and a ruffled blouse that showed more skin than it covered. Not Don’s type, I thought.

  “Don Randall.”

  “He’s not here.” She smiled.

  “But this is his bungalow?” I asked the question slowly.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And you are …” I left the question dangling. “I’m his sister.” She offered her hand. “Tasha St. Romaine.”

  I took her hand in a tight grip, but my hand went slack as her name registered. “St. Romaine?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Who are you?” she asked instead of answering my question.

  “Just a guest,” I lied. Then I remembered the my purpose for being there. “I came by to return this. Don dropped it and didn’t notice.”

  I placed the electronic key in her hand and turned to leave.

  “Who can I tell him returned it?”

  I looked over my shoulder. “No one he’d know,” I said.

  I was angry before, but now I was burning mad. Don Randall! What a sham. He wasn’t Don Randall. He was the owner’s son. A hotel magnate, masquerading as a manager. Why? What game was he playing? And why did he lead me to believe he was a mere manager?

  “Jack,” I shouted, entering the house ten minutes later. I walked to the great room, which was full of wedding paraphernalia. Both Jack and Lila looked up, startled. “I need your help.”

  “What’s happened?” Jack shouted back, following me as I went to the dining room table.

  “I need you to look someone up for me. I need to know everything you can possibly find out about him.”

  “Who?” she asked. “Who’s him?”

  “Don Randall.” I spoke his name as if it were laced with venom.

  “Don? I thought you weren’t interested in him.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then why—”

  I cut her off with a look that could freeze mud. “I want to know why he’s been lying to me.”

  “Lying?” Lila said. “What’s going on?”

  “Jack, look him up.”

  I stood over her as she typed on the computer. We hadn’t thought to research Don. He didn’t fit the profile. There was no need to find anything about him. He was the hotel manager. Not on our radar. Not worth enough to be part of our plan.

  I was burning mad.

  A search screen came up with all versions of his name. Jack perused the listings. There were genealogy lists, marriage and death notices. Jack’s fingers flew over the keys. She continued for several silent minutes, typing, looking at the data that filled the screen, discarding it, and typing again.

  “There’s nothing I can find on him.”

  “Is that strange?”

  “Extremely,” she said. “Everyone is out here somewhere. A Facebook account, a mention by a friend, a blog, something. Don is simply not here.” She looked at me, perplexed.

  “What about Tasha St. Romaine?”

  Jack typed. The screen filled with notices of her. At the bottom additional pages were available.

  “Click Images,” I said. At the top of the search screen was a link that would bring up photos. The woman who’d answered Don’s door came on the screen in a collage of one-inch photos. “That one.” I pointed to a man and woman in the lower left corner. Jack clicked on it.

  “That’s Don,” Lila said. “Who’s the woman?”

  “Tasha St. Romaine,” I answered flatly. “She’s his sister or cousin or some relative.”

  Jack and Lila looked dumbstruck. Both of them turned to stare at me.

  “She’s staying in his bungalow. I just met her.”

  Jack turned and started typing again. The screen filled with links, mainly about the St. Romaine hotel chain. Jack quickly read through the data on the screen. She read much faster than I did and I didn’t know what she was looking for.

  “The owner of the chain is a man named Raleigh St. Romaine. He’s got a daughter named Tasha. She’s the CEO of the business. Raleigh is chairman of the board. He has a playboy son named Sheldon.”

  Jack typed in Sheldon St. Romaine and clicked on Images. Lila and I gasped as the screen was covered with photos of Don Randall.

  I needed to escape. I needed to be alone. I needed to scream. Jack and Lila bombarded me with questions about where I was going and what I planned to do. I answered none of them. I needed some space. Grabbing my beach bag, I headed for the ocean.

  “Can’t we go with you?” Jack pleaded.

  “I don’t think you should be alone right now,” Lila said.

  I stopped at the door, realizing I was scaring them. “Don’t worry,” I said, trying to smile. “I’m not going to do anything crazy. I just need some time alone.”

  Unsure if that was a true statement, I didn’t intend to go near Don or Tasha. I smiled reassuringly at Jack and Lila, hugged each of them, and walked across the street. I don’t know why I turned toward the spot where I’d spent the night with Don, but I found myself there. I sank d
own in the sand, unable to go any farther, and I stared out at the water. I don’t know how long I sat there. The sun set and night fell. The birds overhead stopped their cawing. The tide came in and water reached my feet. I kept asking myself the same questions. Was any of it real? Why had he goaded me? He hated the idea of me marrying for money. Yet all the while he was laughing at me. When I think that he even tried to find me a rich husband, I could scream. Did he tell them? Did they all have a good laugh at my expense?

  I thought of Casey. Was he in on it, too? When I returned to Brooklyn would there be a phone call one day, an e-mail or a letter? Dear Amber … It was all a joke. I thought of Emile and his lies. Don had been no different.

  Standing up, I wiped the sand from my legs and clothes. I’d mourned enough. Time to move on. The summer had not turned out the way I wanted it to. Casey would undoubtedly hear about me and he’d bow out of our arrangement. Jack and Lila would be off on their honeymoons and beginning their happy lives.

  And me. I was a survivor, I told myself. I survived Emile. I would survive Don. If Casey backed out of our arrangement, I would survive him, too.

  Now it was time for action. I’d return to the house and help my friends with their weddings and then I would go home.

  It was time. Reality hit me squarely in the face.

  The summer was over.

  “You told her what?” I shouted at my sister. “I told you to be careful what you called me.”

  Tasha spread her hands. “I apologize, Sheldon. That’s all I can do. I didn’t tell her your name. I told her mine.”

  Tasha looked genuinely sorry, but I didn’t care.

  “And that I was your brother. How long do you think it will take for her to figure out who I am?”

  She glanced at the floor, then back at me. “Why should that make a difference?” she pleaded. “You were going to tell the hotel staff on Monday. She’s a guest. She’s not likely to care who you are. Or is there something I don’t know?”

  She started to smile but stifled it when she saw that I was in no mood for games. This was serious. I was angrier at my sister than I had been since we were teenagers. I said nothing to Tasha. All I could do was turn and walk away, leaving her without an explanation.

  Slamming the door to the bungalow, I headed for my car. I got behind the wheel and pushed the key into the ignition. The car roared to life with only a slight turn. With my hand on the gearshift, I stopped. I didn’t owe Amber an explanation. I didn’t owe anyone the truth. Yet I felt as if I did.

  What was I going to say? This was exactly what my father had warned me about not twenty-four hours ago. What would Amber think of me now? I know we didn’t have the best relationship, but I wanted to explain why I had to hide my identity. Now it must look like I deceived her. She’d been up front with me from the beginning. I had hidden my own secret.

  And now, because of my sister, I needed to do some damage control. I only hoped Amber would listen to me.

  Driving the short distance to the house she rented, everything looked normal. It was fully dark. The day had been busier than usual and I hadn’t been back to the bungalow for hours. I didn’t have to entertain my father or sister. I was sure Tasha had been on the phone or her computer all day, directing and managing the business even while wearing a bathing suit. My father liked the outdoors. At fifty-eight he still maintained the body of a thirty-year-old. It wouldn’t be unusual to find him swimming or at one of the tennis courts, if not jogging along the beach. In that respect, I was sure I took after him.

  I parked in front of the house, the same place I had been the day Amber stepped from the limousine. Lights blazed in the downstairs windows. Through the curtains I could see Jack and Lila along with the men they were now planning to marry.

  Ringing the doorbell, I waited, looking over the porch to the water across the street. I turned when the door opened. Jack stood there.

  “I don’t think she wants to see you,” Jack said before I could explain my reason for being there.

  “Who is it?” Lila called and joined Jack at the door.

  Her mouth formed an O, but no sound came out. Then the two men gathered behind the women. I felt like a display animal in a zoo as they all stared at me.

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  “She’s wondering why you lied to her,” Lila said, giving me a look that should have fried me on the spot.

  “I want to talk to her.”

  Before Jack could refuse me, Amber’s voice came from behind them. “It’s all right, Jack.” All eyes turned to look at her. Amber stood on the staircase halfway up. She walked down the remaining stairs to the landing. I could see by the stiffness in her body that she was holding her anger inside.

  “I think you all should excuse us,” she told Jack and Lila.

  All eyes looked warily at me. “Are you sure?” Shane asked. He was tall and built like a surfer, all muscle and bone. And I could tell he was ready to protect her if the need rose.

  “I’m sure,” she told him.

  “We’ll be right in here,” Lila said, ushering Clay away. Jack and Shane followed them, leaving Amber standing alone on the polished wood floor and me on the threshold.

  “How about going for a walk,” I suggested.

  I stepped onto the porch and moved to the edge.

  “This is as far as I go,” she said, folding her arms in an unapproachable stance.

  Walking back behind her, I reached in and closed the front door. The night was dark, devoid of a moon. The air was cool, an indication that the summer would soon be over.

  “You met my sister,” I began.

  “You told me you had one. You forgot to tell me her name was St. Romaine or that you are not Don Randall.”

  “Let me explain.”

  She put up a hand to stop me. “You don’t have to. You don’t owe me an explanation. You owe me nothing.”

  “I know.” I waited for a reaction, surprise, anger or anything. Her face was as closed as a locked door. “I’d like to tell you why I was using another name.”

  “Why?” She moved her arms, allowing them to hang at her sides. She looked relaxed, as if nothing about me mattered to her. I knew that couldn’t be the truth. The nights in my bed told me as much, and the night on the beach was the crowning achievement. “We’re nothing to each other. I’m engaged to someone else. I’ll be leaving the Vineyard soon. When the weddings are over, I’m taking the ferry and going back to Brooklyn. You can drop me from your friendship list. We don’t even need to exchange Christmas cards.”

  She moved then, preparing to return to the inside. I stepped in front of her.

  “Haven’t we done this dance before?”

  “You’re not in love with him,” I said. “Why are you planning to marry someone you don’t love?”

  “I don’t think that is any of your business. And we’re not talking about me. You’ve already had your laugh on me. Now, please step aside.”

  I didn’t move. I glanced through the window at her friends inside. They were looking through books and eating a large pizza. While they weren’t staring through the windows, I knew they were cognizant of our presence.

  “Look at them,” I said. “They’re in love. You can see it as if it were a palpable thing. Will anyone see that with you and Casey? In five years will the two of you hate each other and end up in divorce court? What effect will that have on his son?”

  “That was low.” Her voice was nearly a growl. She moved then. I didn’t try to stop her. As she approached the door, I called her name. She stopped, her hand on the handle, but she didn’t turn around.

  “I never laughed at you.”

  Jack and Lila’s wedding day was perfect. The sun was bright and high in the sky. The temperature was comfortable and the wind was calm. They looked gorgeous as they floated down the aisle to join hands and hearts with their husbands. Initially, they were going to have the ceremony in the house, but the guests who RSVP’d proved too many for even that large sp
ace.

  When they took their vows, tears rolled down my cheeks. I don’t know why. I was happy for them and I never cried; even at sad movies my eyes remained dry. But when Jack and Lila said “I do,” the waterworks began.

  I looked out on the crowd. Jack’s mom was dabbing a handkerchief to her eyes and her father was blinking hard, trying to act as if the ceremony wasn’t moving him to tears.

  The wedding went off without a hitch, and as the brides and grooms were introduced for the first time as Mr. and Mrs., the house and yard were filled with people.

  I stood off to the side, a member of the reception line. It seemed as if the entire village had turned out for the wedding. I shook hands and smiled, making the standard comments when someone was introduced or leaned over to hug me. But what I was thinking was that I was losing my best friends. They would remain my friends, but there would be differences. Their allegiances were to other people, to a commitment they’d vowed to maintain.

  More of our friends than I thought came up for the ceremony. Well-wishers were everywhere. Don—or Sheldon—was not in attendance. Even though the caterers were from the St. Romaine, he was not there to supervise the staff. I had caught a watery glimpse of him on the fringe of the crowd during the nuptials. I guessed he’d left immediately after the ceremony.

  I hadn’t seen him in almost a week. Of course, I made a point to avoid wherever he might be and I’m sure he was doing the same. There was no reason for us to cross paths. We weren’t lovers, and at this point we were no longer friends.

  Casey and Joel came up the day before the wedding. They were leaving tomorrow. I was leaving with them. Jack and Lila were staying over a couple of nights, then going on their honeymoons. I wouldn’t see them for another couple of weeks when they returned to prepare for their lives as man and wife.

  Casey took my arm the moment the reception line completed its duties. Even though I was on his arm, and he kissed me at all the appropriate times, it wasn’t the same. Don had read me correctly. I wasn’t in love with Casey. I liked him, but I didn’t love him. I was in love with Don—or Sheldon. I wasn’t sure if I could get used to calling him Sheldon.