The Right Man

by Anne Stuart

That startled Susan into turning around. “New bruises?”

  “Check your arm. The old ones are probably faded by now, but there may be new ones.”

  Susan slid off the chenille bathrobe and surveyed her right arm. It was smooth and soft, without the firm muscle tone she was used to.

  “The other arm,” Mary said patiently.

  They were fading now, a yellowish-purple memory on her upper arm. She stared down at the bruises in surprise. It would have taken a fair amount of force to leave that kind of mark on her.

  “How did it happen?” she asked.

  “You told me you walked into a door.”

  “But how could a door do that?”

  “Exactly,” Mary said. “So why don’t you remember? I don’t think you even know who I am.”

  “Of course I do. You’re Mary Abbott, you’re nine years old, born April 25, 1940, and you’re my... sister.” She barely hesitated.

  Mary, with her precocious face, looked far from convinced. “He hit you, didn’t he? Is he the reason you don’t remember anything?”

  “He didn’t touch me!” Susan protested hotly. “He was just sitting by the window, smoking, when I woke up and—”

  “I’m not talking about Jack. Jack would never hit a woman, though he might be tempted. I’m talking about Neddie. He’s the one who left those bruises on your arm, and it’s not the first time he’s done it. I can understand your lying to Daddy, but you don’t need to keep it from me.”

  “Why would I lie to Daddy?”

  “Because this marriage is too important for the family, and you know it. Daddy made a lot of money during the war, but it was all with Neddie’s help. And things haven’t been so good lately—I’ve heard Mummy and Daddy fighting about it. If you marry Neddie the business partnership goes through, and they’ll build all those little boxy houses in all the poorer towns of Connecticut, New York and New Jersey. And the Abbotts will be very rich once more, and everyone will live happily ever after. Except poor Lou, who should have run when she had the chance.”

  Susan pulled the maroon dress over her head, searching and finally finding the zipper on the side of the dress, under her arm. She zipped it, then sat back down at the cluttered dressing table and stared in the mirror. Mary Abbott was reflected behind her, young and old at the same time, mother and sister, child and parent.

  She turned to face her. “Do you trust me, Mary?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then will you help me?”

  “Help you get away from Neddie? Absolutely.”

  Susan shook her head. “I don’t know if that’s what I’m supposed to do. If that’s the lesson I need to learn. I’m here for a reason, and I haven’t the faintest idea what that reason is.”

  “You’re here because you were born here,” Mary said flatly.

  Susan shook her head. “No, I wasn’t. I was born twenty years from now. I’m not Tallulah Abbott. I’m her niece, Susan, and somehow I’ve gotten trapped inside her body.”

  Mary didn’t say a word. She just looked at her for a long, solemn moment, then shook her head. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “No.”

  Mary came up to her and put her small hands on Susan’s face, cupping it as she looked deeply into her eyes. It was the strangest sensation—Susan had felt that loving touch, that gentle gaze many times in her life, but this time the hands were a child’s hands, the eyes that looked into hers were innocent.

  They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, and then Mary spoke. “If you’re Lou’s niece that would make you my daughter.”

  Knowing how absurd it would sound, Susan shut her eyes for a moment. “Yes.”

  Mary released her face, taking a brisk step backward. “I almost believe you.”

  “I know it’s impossible to imagine, but...what?”

  “I almost believe you,” Mary said again. “Your eyes are different. They’re the same shape, the same color, but there’s someone else looking out of them. I’m guessing this is probably a dream, but I’ll go along with it for now. What do you need from me?”

  “Thank God,” Susan breathed. “I need you to help cover for me. I only know the barest details of Tallulah’s life and family. My mother...er, you... never talked much about her, or the family.”

  “You never met Tallulah? Why?”

  Susan didn’t want to tell her the truth. That Tallulah Abbott died on her wedding day, fifty years ago, three days from now. “She died young,” she said evasively.

  “How young?”

  “I don’t think you really want to know the future, do you? Besides, this is a dream. Personally I think it’s my dream, not yours, but that doesn’t matter. Sooner or later we’ll both wake up and be back where we belong, and you don’t need unhappy memories—”

  “You die,” Mary said flatly.

  “No.”

  “All right, Tallulah dies,” she corrected herself impatiently. “When?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “If you want my help you’ll have to tell me, or I’ll go back downstairs and leave you to fend for yourself,” Mary said in her mature little voice.

  Susan took a deep breath. Mary had always been a stubborn soul, and she had no doubt she meant what she said. “Three days from now,” she said finally. “On her wedding day.”

  Mary took a deep, shuddering breath. “No,” she protested.

  Susan reached out a hand to touch her. “Well, I think it would be clear why I’m here. I’m supposed to stop it. Stop Tallulah from dying.”

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t be marrying Neddie, anyway, and we both know it. You’ll have to call it off. If Lou doesn’t get married, then the future will have to change.”

  “Maybe. It’s the best I can come up with on short notice.”

  “You’d better come down to dinner,” Mary said. “The sooner you face them all the easier it will be. You can say you’ve got a headache. You haven’t been very talkative in the past few weeks, anyway, so no one will probably notice if you just sit there.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then maybe we’ll both wake up. And Lou will be back and everything will be all right.”

  “You’re only nine, but I bet you know that doesn’t happen,” Susan said.

  “Lou isn’t going to die,” Mary said fiercely.

  “That’s a promise,” Susan said.

  THE SHOES WERE HORRIBLE. High-stacked heels, when Susan hadn’t worn anything but flats and running shoes for the past ten years. Her ankles almost collapsed as she made her way down the wide, winding staircase of the old Abbott mansion, but Mary was beside her, providing physical and moral support.

  She’d seen photographs of the old house, and her mother had occasionally told her stories of it, but it still was far from what she imagined. She’d pictured something out of an old Cary Grant movie, but this place was in color, slightly shabby, as if there hadn’t been enough money for new slipcovers or carpets in the past few years. The war hadn’t been over for that long, Susan reminded herself. Maybe there was still a shortage of goods, even for wealthy people like the Abbotts of Connecticut.

  The elderly man standing at the makeshift bar glared at her as she entered the room. “It’s about time,” he said. “You’re too late for cocktails, but then, your mother’s made up for it. The others are out on the patio—we’ll go in for dinner now.”

  She stared at the querulous old man. He had to be her grandfather, Mary and Tallulah’s father, the esteemed Ridley Abbott. He looked like an old man, and yet he couldn’t be much older than fifty.

  “Why don’t I see if I can help serve?” she suggested.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We have servants to take care of such things. Go find your mother and your fiancé and tell them you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.” He whirled on Mary. “What are you staring at?”

  “Nothing,” Mary said in her admirably calm voice. “Lou and I will go call the others.”

&nb
sp; The old man’s eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. “Lou can get them by herself. I want to have a little talk with you.”

  Susan squashed down her sudden feeling of panic. She had absolutely no idea where the patio was, and if there was anyone out there besides Elda and Neddie she was going to be up a creek without a paddle.

  “Not now, Daddy,” Mary said. “You can yell at me after dinner. I’m too hungry right now.”

  “And whose fault is that? Your sister’s, that’s who. And now we’ve got that nosey parker here as well, which doesn’t improve my disposition, let me tell you.”

  “Which nosey parker?”

  “You know who I mean,” Ridley said, pouring himself another glass of whisky. Straight. “I can’t wait till this damned wedding is over.”

  “Neither can I,” Susan murmured. But the old man had already dismissed her, concentrating on the dark amber of his drink.

  She had no memory of her grandmother Elda—she’d left her husband sometime in the fifties and died a decade later, but Susan had always pictured a frail, white-haired old lady. The woman laughing with Neddie Marsden was a far cry from that image, with thick dark hair and a cocktail dress that was surprisingly daring for a mature woman. She threw a glance toward her elder daughter, and Susan was shocked to see the veiled dislike in her blue eyes.

  “There’s the little sleepyhead,” she cooed in a deceptively cheery voice. “We were afraid you were going to sleep straight through dinner. Look who’s decided to join us.”

  Neddie Marsden had changed very little in almost fifty years. She would have known him anywhere—the heavy-lidded eyes, the wide, thick-lipped mouth, the faint air of menacing charm. He was a hearty man, bluff and friendly, and he’d always been more than kind to Mary Abbott and her daughter. But looking at the younger version of Ned Marsden, she couldn’t help but notice his solid, be-ringed fingers, and remember the fading bruises on Tallulah’s upper arm.

  “Hi, Ned,” she said in her husky voice, making no effort to move closer.

  “Is that any way to greet your fiancé?” Neddie chided her. He reached out and put that heavy hand on her arm, and Susan flinched, instinctively. Enough of Tallulah remained inside her to be wary.

  She averted her face in time for Ned’s wet mouth to land on her cheek, and if the fingers on her arm tightened slightly she couldn’t be certain. “How nice to see you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Tallulah,” her mother snapped. “You know Neddie comes for supper every night. But you haven’t noticed who else is here. Say hello to your old friend Jack.” There was no missing the trace of malice in Elda’s arch voice.

  Susan controlled the sinking feeling that hit her as she realized there was a third person on the flagstone patio. “Hello, Jack,” she murmured.

  “Long time, no see,” Jack replied. “I came by to drop off a wedding present, and Elda was kind enough to invite me for dinner.”

  “How...lovely,” Susan said in a faint voice. In the fading sunlight of an early-June evening Jack McGowan looked even more overwhelming. Compared to Jake Wyczynski’s mode of dress McGowan looked positively formal, with his suit and white shirt and loosened tie. But compared to Ned and Ridley’s pristine neatness it was clear that Jack McGowan was a vagabond.

  “Do you want me to go tell Hattie we’re ready to eat?” Mary piped up.

  “Not quite, dear,” Elda replied. “Why don’t we go inside and let Tallulah and Jack have some time together to renew their acquaintance.”

  “I don’t think so,” Neddie rumbled, but Elda sidled up to him, frankly flirtatious, and put her hand on his arm.

  “Now, Neddie, you’re going to have to learn to listen to your mother-in-law’s wishes. You don’t have to be so possessive—Tallulah knows what’s best for her. And you’ve seen how docile she’s become in the past year. Why, you’d hardly recognize the flighty, passionate creature she used to be. Thank heavens.”

  “Thank heavens,” Neddie echoed, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t see why—”

  “I need you to make me another drink, Neddie darling,” Elda cooed. “Ridley always makes mine too weak, and I’m afraid I have a naughty little habit of making mine too strong. Come along.”

  Susan waited, holding her breath. Young Ned Marsden didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d do anybody’s bidding, much less that of his slightly inebriated future mother-in-law, but she’d underestimated Elda’s charm. After a moment Neddie shrugged his massive shoulders and managed a tight smile.

  “Behave yourself, Lou,” he said in what was obviously supposed to be a playful tone of voice, chucking her under the chin. For some reason it sounded vaguely threatening.

  Elda waited until Neddie preceded her into the house, then turned back. “Come along, Mary.”

  “I thought I’d keep them company—”

  “I said come along. I’m sure Tallulah doesn’t need you around helping her out.”

  That’s exactly what I need, Susan thought desperately. “I don’t mind, Mummy,” she said.

  Elda’s smile was frosty. “I do.”

  Susan waited until the French doors closed behind them, wishing desperately for a drink or a cigarette. It didn’t matter that she’d never smoked in her life—her hands and her mouth needed one. And she hated hard liquor, blaming alcohol for her fatherless existence, but for some reason the cocktail m Jack’s big, strong hand looked completely alluring.

  “What was that all about?” she asked, resisting the impulse to ask him for a cigarette. She moved past him on her slightly wobbly high heels and sank down on one of those cast-iron lawn chairs.

  “I think Elda’s not quite sure whether she wants you to marry good old Neddie,” Jack said in a level voice.

  “Why not?”

  “It looks like she fancies him herself. Of course, just because he’s marrying you doesn’t mean he’ll stop fooling around. He doesn’t strike me as the faithful-husband type. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and Elda don’t have a little something going on already.”

  “Don’t be disgusting.”

  “Am I? I thought I was simply being frank. You could hardly consider this marriage to be the love match of the century. Especially considering Jimmy.”

  Susan’s stomach knotted instinctively. “What about Jimmy?” she said. Where the hell was Mary when she needed her?

  He took a deep, steadying breath. She’d thought he had short hair, but compared to the others he was practically shaggy. He ran a hand through his thick, rumpled hair, obviously looking for patience.

  “Look, Lou, we might as well talk about it.”

  “Talk about what? Are you going to tell me I shouldn’t marry Neddie?”

  “He’s a war profiteer. He made a fortune sitting on his butt at home while boys were dying overseas.”

  “Not very commendable, but I’m sure a great many people made money from the war. That’s the problem with war—it can be very good for the economy.”

  “I’m not talking about a normal profit, Lou. I’m not talking about a decent profit. I’m talking about raking in a fortune selling shoddy goods and cheap parts to the government. Faulty parts that cost lives, just because of his greed.”

  “Have you got proof?” she demanded.

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Why? Is it something to do with me?”

  “Dream on, princess. You’re not that important in the scheme of things. I’m a reporter, remember. It’s my job to investigate things. I’m like a dog with a dead rat—I’m not letting go until I’m sure it’s dead.”

  “Charming,” Susan said faintly. “What do you intend to do?”

  “Expose Neddie Marsden for the murderous bastard he is. And no, I’m not going to apologize for my language,” he added. “I just thought I’d warn you. Your father was in that mess pretty deep as well, and I don’t know if I can protect you. I certainly can’t if you’re going to go ahead and many Marsden.”

  “Why would you want to protect me? I thought I wasn�
��t that important?”

  “You aren’t. But I’m fond of your little sister. And God knows Jimmy loved you. Maybe it’s for his sake I’m giving you a chance.”

  “Jimmy,” she echoed in a pensive voice.

  He came and sat down next to her, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He was taller than Ned Marsden, leaner, with a hint of coiled strength about him that was totally unlike Neddie’s brute handsomeness. Oddly enough, there was nothing threatening about Jack’s size, or strength. “We need to talk about it, Lou,” he said gently.

  “Talk about what?”

  He shook his head. “It happened, Lou. Whether we like it or not, it happened, and pretending it didn’t won’t fix things.”

  Oh, God, what had Tallulah done? It must have been pretty shocking. Had she slept with Jack McGowan?

  She stalled for time. “If you want to talk about it go right ahead. I have nothing to say.” Which was nothing more than the simple truth.

  Jack sighed. “Look, we kissed. It was no big deal, it meant absolutely nothing and we both know it. We were both upset, talking about Jimmy, and it just happened. We don’t need to feel like we’ve betrayed him. It was nothing.”

  She had the strangest sensation, prickling at the back of her neck. “Where did you kiss me?” she demanded suddenly, not caring how odd it sounded.

  “On the mouth, sweetheart.”

  She shook her head. “I mean, where in the house. Er...did anyone see us?”

  “In the garage. And there was no one around. Your secret is safe.”

  In the garage. She’d known it. Susan turned to look at him, shielding her expression. At least Tallulah hadn’t slept with him. But the truth was almost as bad. Because enough of Lou remained in that foreign body that Susan was now trapped in.

  Kissing Jack McGowan wasn’t “nothing.” It was the most powerful experience in Tallulah Abbott’s life, powerful enough that it crossed time and space and invaded Susan’s soul.

  “You’re right,” she said. “It didn’t mean a thing.”

  “So then why have you been running away from me ever since?”

  “I have nothing to say to you. I’m getting married, ready to start life as a wife and a mother. Jimmy’s in the past. Jimmy’s brother is in the past. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but it’s simply the truth.” The husky voice sounded calm and believable, but Jack didn’t seem convinced.