Blindsided

by Fern Michaels

  “It’s me, Mummy. Maggie needs you all. Shower her with love the way you used to shower me with love. She needs it, Mom.”

  “I will. Of course I will,” Myra gasped. “I wish I could see you. I wish I could take you in my arms, darling girl.”

  “I have to go, Mom. I want to watch over Maggie. I love you, Mom. The dogs need you right now.”

  “And I love you, darling girl.” Myra wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks. She barely noticed the dogs sitting at her feet, their heads cocked upward as though they were listening to her spirit daughter. One of the dogs nudged Myra’s leg. She looked down and rubbed the dog’s sweet spot between her eyes before she turned to walk back to the house. The normally rambunctious dogs trotted along behind her protectively.

  “It’s all right, girls. That was my daughter. Shhhh. We’re good now.”

  Chapter 4

  Five miles down the road from Myra’s farmhouse, Annie swooped into her own driveway and screeched to a stop. Maggie gasped. “I think that short ride was just like flying in a plane, Annie. You do have a heavy foot. You know that, right?”

  Annie sighed. “Everyone is a critic. I have things on my mind. What do you think I should prepare for dinner, dear?”

  Her eyes still wild at the crazy trip, Maggie said, “Spaghetti and meatballs.”

  Annie’s heart fluttered in her chest. “Spaghetti and meatballs! I think I can do that. But I’ll have to scoot into town to the market for the ingredients. You know where my office is. Go on in and do what you have to do. The key is under the mat.”

  “Lots of garlic, Annie,” Maggie called over her shoulder as she skipped her way up the short flight of steps to the deck leading into Annie’s kitchen. She eyed the pumpkins, which were decoratively arranged along with a scarecrow and some bales of hay. She correctly assumed that Annie decorated for Harry Wong’s little daughter, Lotus Lily. She winced at the sound of Annie’s burning rubber in her haste to get to the market.

  Like she was really going to the market. Spaghetti! Meatballs! In a million years, she could never make spaghetti, much less meatballs, that would be edible. Even with a cookbook.

  Twelve minutes later, Annie pulled into a parking spot at the Roma Italian Eatery. She bounced into the deserted restaurant and bellowed for Pasquale, who came on the run.

  Seeing Annie, he put his hands on his hips, and said, “Company, eh? How much?”

  “Enough for seven people. Lots of garlic. And two dozen of your garlic twists.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, Miss Annie? Just fry some garlic in olive oil and it will permeate the whole house and make it seem like you cooked for hours.”

  “Yes, yes, okay. I got it. Just get it ready, Pasquale, and I will be forever in your debt.”

  Pasquale, a short, chubby, happy little man, shouted a string of Italian. The only thing Annie understood was her name and the word loco. At least that’s what it sounded like to her.

  “You will, of course, return my containers at some point?”

  Annie paced the confines of the small foyer. “Don’t I always? You better throw in some garlic while you’re at it. I don’t think I have any at home.”

  “Of course. Many times I have offered to show you how to cook the sauce. I ask again.”

  “One of these days, Pasquale. This is just easier. Onions along with the garlic, right?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt, Countess,” Pasquale said, tongue-in-cheek.

  Ten minutes later, Annie settled two large shopping bags in the trunk of Myra’s car. She cringed at the pungent aromatic garlic wafting from the bags. Oh, crap! Now she was going to stink up Myra’s car, and the jig would be up.

  Pasquale came up behind her as she was about to close the trunk. He was holding out a large box of baking soda. He shrugged. Annie started to laugh and couldn’t stop. She hugged the little Italian and handed over a wad of bills, not knowing if it was too much or too little. If she was short, she’d settle up when she returned Pasquale’s containers.

  Annie waved as she roared out of the driveway and headed home. She let out a sigh so loud, she swore the birds overhead started to squawk. She ran into the house and called out Maggie’s name. When there was no response, she walked up to the second floor to see what was going on. Maggie waved, her cell phone to her ear as she tapped on her laptop. Annie mouthed the words, “I’ll bring up coffee later.” Maggie nodded.

  Annie galloped back down the stairs and out to the car. She raced back into the kitchen and, within minutes, had everything in the containers transferred to a huge spaghetti pot Fergus had insisted she buy last year. Within seconds, she had garlic and onions smelling up the whole house. She dumped it all into the larger pot and then washed out the fry pan and put it back on the rack.

  Her eyes on the clock, Annie bundled everything up into the shopping bags and ran out to the barn with them. Hot dogs would have been so much simpler. She was breathless when she returned to the kitchen to make the coffee she had promised Maggie.

  While she waited for the coffee to drip into the pot, Annie took long, deep breaths and exhaled. “I’m too old for these shenanigans,” she mumbled to herself. “Next time it’s hot dogs, for sure, and Myra will eat them or I’ll stuff them down her throat.”

  “Wow! Annie, you sure do work fast! It smells so good in here. I could smell the garlic all the way upstairs. Oooh, oooh, I can’t wait for dinner. I guess you really did pay attention to those cooking lessons Fergus gave you,” Maggie said from the doorway.

  Annie waved her hands airily. “Half the battle is being organized. I’m organized.”

  Liar liar, pants on fire. “Coffee, dear?”

  “I’d love some coffee. I don’t know how you do it, Annie. Ted is on his way with your car. I explained everything, and he’s over the moon. He doesn’t think it’s his place to talk to John Cassidy, so that’s something you’ll have to do. Do you think you want Ted to stay on to show John the ropes for a few days or just let him plunge in? If you want my opinion, I think John can sit in that chair and not miss a beat. Ted’s raring to go. I don’t know who’s more excited—me or Ted. Oh, Annie, I feel like the weight of the entire world is off my shoulders. Thank you so much for taking me back. And thank you for understanding.” Maggie babbled nonstop.

  Annie smiled. It was so good to see Maggie smiling and happy. She knew she would have setbacks from time to time, but she knew that in short order, the young woman would move forward and leave the past behind her.

  “I called my tenant, and he agreed to move out next week. I agreed to pay his first month’s rent on his new place. Nice guy, and he said he understood, so I will be out of your hair by this time next week. Is that okay, Annie?”

  “Of course, child. I told you that you could stay as long as you like. I just rattle around here by myself since Fergus left. My housekeeper will be back next week. I gave her the time off because her granddaughter just had a new baby, and I was going to Vegas.”

  Maggie leaned across the table. “Do you miss him, Annie? Was he the one for you?”

  “I do miss him. Was he the one? There were times I thought so and other times I thought, No, he’s not the one. It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone, and he won’t be back. At the end of the day, dear, family is what’s important, and I’m happy that Fergus is back with his children. It doesn’t matter what the reasons are. Life is too short for unhappiness and to yearn for something you can’t have. That’s how I have to look at it, and I’m okay with it. I don’t want you worrying about me, Maggie.”

  Maggie smiled. “I love you, Annie. You always make it right for me. I hope someday I can do something for you to really thank you.”

  “Dear girl, you don’t have to wait for someday. Today, I’m happy if you’re happy. Now, how much did you tell Ted about your case?”

  Maggie laughed, a joyous sound. “Just enough to get him all riled up and raring to go. I have a good feeling about all of this, Annie.”

  Annie got up to p
our the coffee. “I do, too, child. I do, too.”

  It was a comfortable silence as the spaghetti sauce bubbled on the stove, the heavenly smell of garlic, onions, and cheese permeating the air, to Maggie’s drooling delight.

  From time to time, they spoke of everything and nothing as they watched the muted small-screen TV perched on Annie’s kitchen counter.

  “Maggie, did you call Mr. Tookus?” Annie asked, breaking their comfortable silence.

  “I did, Annie, but my call went to voice mail, which I thought was strange. In all the years that I’ve known Abner, he has always answered his phone. Actually, I think his phone is glued to his ear. I have never had to leave a message. I did leave one, but he hasn’t called me back. I’m sure he will at some point.”

  Annie shrugged. “Mr. Tookus is married now. Perhaps he went on location with Isabelle, who is designing a new shopping mall in upstate New York.”

  Maggie laughed. “Are you saying his phone won’t ring in upstate New York?”

  “No, not at all. He might be busy. I think in his other life, he could have been an architect himself. You saw where he lived. We all did. He did that all himself, and it was so good they featured his loft in Architectural Digest.”

  “I know all that. It doesn’t matter what is going on in his life; he answers the phone. It’s who he is. Maybe it’s me he doesn’t want to talk to. Things got rather contentious between us way back when. You should try calling him, Annie, to see if he picks up when you call.”

  Annie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, scrolled down for Abner’s number, and clicked. She listened to Abner’s ominous voice telling the caller to leave a name and number, which she did. She rolled her eyes and shrugged as she slid the phone back into the pocket of her slacks. “I guess we just wait to see if he calls one of us back. I’m sure there’s a reason why he isn’t answering. It could be as simple as being out of the area of a cell tower. It could be anything, dear, so don’t take it personally.”

  Maggie chewed at her nails, a disgusting, hateful habit she owned up to and wasn’t able to break. “I can’t wait to get started on this. It’s been a long time, Annie. I just hope I haven’t lost my edge.” Her tone was so worried, so fretful sounding, Annie hastened to assure her that the moment she put on her investigative reporter cap, things would fall into place. “It’s like riding a bike—you never forget how to do it.”

  “Two judges, Annie. Twins. You really can’t tell them apart, at least in the pictures I’ve seen. I bet anything that they’ve stood in for each other on the bench and no one knew the difference. That’s a scary thought in my opinion. Not to mention illegal. Think about it, Annie. The plaintiffs, the defendants, the lawyers couldn’t tell the difference. If it’s true. By the way, I also placed a call to the young reporter on the Baywater Weekly, the guy who brought all this to my attention. I called the paper first, and they said he was on a leave of absence, and, oddly enough, they gave me his cell phone number. I left my number and my e-mail address. He hasn’t returned my call either. My gut tells me he’s hiding out.”

  “And you think that means what?”

  “Why do people take a leave of absence? Why would he hide out? Think about it. Intimidation would be my guess. He’s a young guy, so I doubt he’s sick. It’s obvious to me that he took this leave after his paper printed that watered-down article. I heard something about a retraction, but I don’t think that happened. Someone put a clamp on things. He must have talked to the wrong people, asked the wrong questions. I’m just talking out loud. It might be something as simple as taking a late-in-the-year vacation. One way or another, we’ll track him down. The Post can always use another good reporter, right, Annie? You know, in case we have to dangle a carrot for him when we do find him.”

  “Absolutely. You do whatever you need to do, Maggie. You think, then, that this young man was or is onto something?”

  “I do, Annie. Reporter’s instinct. Maybe no one else saw what I saw between the lines. And it is a local weekly paper. People don’t devour weeklies like they do the dailies, and the dailies not so much anymore now that people can read their favorite newspapers online.”

  Annie turned her attention to the back door of her state-of-the-art kitchen. “I hear a car. Must be Ted bringing my car back.” She got up and looked out the diamond-shaped panes in the door. “It’s Ted and Joseph. Ah, I’m pleased to say that there are no visible signs of dents or bumpers falling off, at least that I can see.”

  Maggie laughed out loud. “Ted isn’t the cowboy driver you think he is. If anything, he drives below the speed limit. Espinosa is worse. He creeps along on the highway, and other drivers blow their horns at him. In my opinion, they are both hazards on the road. You have to keep up with the speed limit. Both of them used to make me crazy because it would take us twice as long to get somewhere as opposed to when I was driving.”

  Annie smiled. “I guess that’s good to know.” She opened the door and hugged her two employees. Coffee was offered and accepted. Both men sniffed, and Ted lifted the lid off the spaghetti pot.

  “Ah, my favorite food on earth. I could smell it all the way outside.” Espinosa seconded Ted’s endorsement.

  Annie felt out of place as Ted and Espinosa sat down at the table and proceeded to share thoughts and ideas on Maggie’s news. Ideas were bounced around at the speed of light as plans and suggestions flew just as fast. The trio were in their element as they relived old times and mapped out an itinerary. At one point, Ted turned to Annie, and said, “I moved all my stuff out of the office, with Espinosa’s help. I even watered your plants, Maggie.”

  “Really! I thought for sure you’d let them die.” At Ted’s stunned look, she added lamely, “You aren’t exactly the watering-plant type, if you know what I mean. Are they lush and healthy?”

  Miffed at Maggie’s words, Ted nodded and moved on to what he was saying. Like he was really going to tell her he lived in mortal fear of the plants dying and Maggie somehow finding out. He’d nurtured them daily, sometimes hourly, with plant food, new soil, and spraying the leaves so they’d be shiny and healthy-looking.

  “You really should call John now, Annie, and tell him about his promotion. I set everything up for him. All he has to do is turn on the computer, plant his rear end in the chair, and he’s good to go.”

  “Since you all don’t need me right now, then yes, I’ll call John. Stir the sauce once in a while so it doesn’t burn, and do not eat it! That’s an order.”

  “Like we would really do something like that,” Ted said in mock horror.

  Within seconds, three of Annie’s favorite people on earth were back to forming and shoring up their plans to take on the Ciprani twins in Baywater, Maryland. Oh, to be that young again and have the drive and stamina that those three have, Annie thought.

  There was excitement in Maggie’s voice that was contagious when she looked at Ted and Espinosa, and said, “We’re onto something, aren’t we?”

  “Oh, yeah. Keep talking, sweet cheeks,” Ted drawled, using his favorite nickname for his old love. Maggie laughed out loud. Espinosa’s thumb shot upward as he leaned in closer to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

  “Okay, guys, listen up. This is what I’m thinking . . .”

  It was totally dark outside when Myra’s guests arrived, the headlights of the various vehicles bouncing off the kitchen windows. It was hard to contain the excitement she was feeling. She looked around to make sure everything was satisfactory. It was. They were eating in the kitchen this evening because it was less formal than the dining room, with the long, polished table where one had to shout to be heard at the end. Kitchens, in her opinion, were for eating and cooking. She wasn’t sure, but she rather thought her guests felt the same way.

  The large, round, oak table that could seat eight was set with colorful place mats along with decorative colored dishes that seemed to glow in the kitchen light. A bright orange pot of brilliant fall leaves, with a small pumpkin that matched the ceramic
pot, graced the center of the table but would be removed and replaced with grated cheese, hot pepper flakes, salt, and pepper, and, of course, the bread tray when Annie served her dinner.

  The security monitor above the door came alive as car after car, along with short bursts of their respective horns, announced Pinewood’s guests for the evening.

  There were laughter, hugs, and comments about how good the food that Annie and Maggie were carrying to the kitchen table smelled. Questions were asked about Nellie’s not-so-new titanium hips and Pearl’s gout, then followed up with inquiries about Martine’s trip to the place, wherever it was, that no one could pronounce.

  Things moved with a precision drill as the food was transferred to bowls that matched the colorful dishes, wine was poured, and more hugs welcomed Maggie home, followed by casual conversation along with a hundred excited questions about what was going on.

  It was all casual, friendly, and when Myra said, “Charles is knee-deep in his research down below in his lair, so his rule that we can’t talk business while eating is not in effect.” Hoots of delight ensued as the guests all helped themselves from the bowl of spaghetti.

  Most of the questions were aimed at Maggie, who willingly relayed all she knew, ending with, “After our meeting this evening with Charles to hear what he came up with, Ted, Espinosa, and I are going to travel to Baywater and see what we can come up with firsthand and get the lay of the land, so to speak. My gut is telling me we all need to tread very carefully. I think the twin judges are a force to be reckoned with.”

  “And you think we aren’t?” Annie asked testily.

  “That’s not what I meant, Annie. If I were a betting woman, my money would be on all of you. I’m just saying those two judges are not amateurs, and we all need to keep that in mind. That’s another reason why I want to go there and walk the walk and talk to that young reporter from the Baywater Weekly.”

  The ladies kicked it around some more, their eyes on the clock as they waited for the appointed hour, when they were to meet Charles in the catacombs, better known as the War Room. As women always did when a meal was over, they got up and worked as a team to clear the table, load the dishwasher, and pack away the leftovers into other bowls with lock lids. Myra leaned over to whisper in Annie’s ear, “You need to give Pasquale my compliments. It was a delicious dinner.”