Chapter Four
Pepper wasn’t quite sure she’d heard the man correctly. She leaned in, over the desk in the Celebrations, Inc., catering office that stood between them, and asked, “Excuse me?”
“I said, exactly how much did your father bilk out of the people who trusted him?”
Pepper blinked and glanced at the Catering to Dallas cameras, which were rolling, then back at the man. Her first thought was, Oh, okay, this must be someone’s idea of a joke. A bad joke, granted, which they would edit out of the final footage. But when she smiled at the man and waited for him to smile back or give some other hint at a punch line, he didn’t.
That’s when her stomach fell and Pepper realized this wasn’t a joke. The man was serious. She’d been set up.
Before Pepper had returned to work on the set of Catering to Dallas, she and the show’s producers had agreed that any and all talk about her father and his case was off-limits on the show. Her father’s attorney insisted that trying Harris Merriweather’s case on a reality TV show could only hurt his chances for a fair trial when he got his day in court.
“Answer me!” the angry man demanded.
Pepper wanted to kick herself. How could she have been so naive to believe that the bigwigs of a reality television show that thrived on sensationalism would pass up the opportunity for the inside scoop about scandal and intrigue? Even Pepper had to acknowledge that it was fodder for good ratings.
But they’d promised.
And she’d believed them.
The producers had put the man on the shooting schedule, had him masquerade as a customer interested in a catering estimate. They’d even told Pepper they were bringing him in for a short “day in the life of Celebrations, Inc.” vignette. This was to be a simple shot of her interacting with a potential customer. It was supposed to be a good way for her to ease back into the show.
But obviously the joke was on her.
Her next thought, as she glanced from the angry man to the rolling television cameras, was, Ooh, this was not how happily-ever-after was supposed to begin.
As the man proceeded to berate her and her father, Pepper’s fight-or-flight response kicked in. She knew she had to get out of there. Without saying a word, she calmly turned around and grabbed her purse from a drawer in the filing cabinet behind her, stood and began walking to her car.
“Follow her!” hissed Bill Hines, the director of Catering to Dallas.
Pepper dared not glance back over her shoulder. Because if she did, she would be staring blankly into a television camera pointed at her face. She’d look like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. Except, as she beelined for her car, she decided it was more apt to say she felt like a deer on the run at the opening of hunting season.
Thank goodness she’d gotten enough of a head start to allow her time to get into her car, lock the doors and drive away, escaping the unanswered questions that hung between Pepper and the camera crew.
Maybe she should’ve stayed in St. Michel. She’d only been home for three days, and already things were going haywire. She’d managed to slip back into the country unnoticed on an uneventful flight that arrived in the wee hours of the morning. Then she’d accepted a ride from a stranger who had kissed her senseless and disappeared into the ether.
Although he had told her to call him if she needed saving again. And she did. What would he do if she called?
Naah. She was perfectly capable of saving herself.
The first day back, when she’d finally opened her eyes, rested and refreshed, back in her own bed, back in Celebration, Texas, it was as if she’d awakened from a bad dream. For a very short window of time—with Robert Macintyre’s kiss still fresh on her lips—everything seemed to indicate that she had, indeed, made the right decision to come home.
Pepper had expected that sense of security and rightness to carry over when she went back to work. She’d also hoped that somehow she’d hear from Rob again, but then she reminded herself that he didn’t have her number—though he had Sydney’s. She’d dialed it with his phone. He knew where she lived. If he’d wanted to see her again, he could’ve made the effort.
She hadn’t told her girlfriends about the kiss. From this vantage point she was glad she hadn’t. If she didn’t tell, she could pretend that it never happened.
Which was probably for the best. Because coming fresh off that disaster, here she was, her first day back on the job, and she’d walked right into a setup.
She was beginning to sense a pattern.
It certainly wasn’t the stuff that happily-ever-after was made of. At least not the happily-ever-after she’d held in her heart a few days ago in Maya’s Chocolate Shop.
Before turning onto her street, she glanced into the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following her. When she was sure the coast was clear, she pressed the garage door opener and pulled, quickly pressed the button to shut the garage door behind her and killed the engine. She sat there for a few moments listening to the engine tick and sigh in the cool, quiet, dim space. The only light was the eerie yellow glow from the fixture attached to the automatic door opener.
For a moment it crossed her mind that this windowless garage might be the only place in the world where she could truly escape the perils and scrutiny of the outside world. Inside the house, there were windows and the television, which seemed to run a constant commentary of judgments and opinions about her father’s presumed guilt, the family’s involvement, her mother’s choice to run away to St. Michel and Pepper’s own choice to come home.
The beginning of a headache throbbed in her temples. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against the lids, but it didn’t help. When she opened her eyes again, the dim garage door opener light had shut off. In the gray darkness, everything looked fuzzy and out of proportion, especially the shadows.
A voice of reason—a voice of fight—made her stare down the shadows, because that was the only way she could prove this dread that threatened to consume her was not bigger than she was. She alone had the power to expel all the shadow monsters, but that light had to come from inside her. Still, first she had to get out of the car.
As her eyes focused, she could see her running shoes sitting on the stoop leading up to the kitchen door. A set of golf clubs that she’d used only once leaned against the wall next to it. Her bike was suspended by chains from the ceiling above the clubs.
Wow, she’d taken so many things for granted before the rug had been yanked out from under her family.
A chill wound its way through her body. Despite the cool December weather, the air felt clammy and clung to her like a warning.
If she stayed here, it would essentially be her own version of house arrest. The thought made her heart feel so heavy it hurt.
She took a deep breath to calm herself and gripped the steering wheel. It felt good touching something tangible, something tactile, to ground her in reality.
Who would’ve thought that the garage and the safety it provided had the potential to become her favorite room in the house?
And that thought was just pathetic.
She had to get herself out of this funk. Who better to call than Lindsay and Carlos, the show’s executive producers? They hadn’t been there today. Surely, they didn’t know what had happened. There was no way they would’ve allowed it.
She took out her cell phone and dialed Carlos’s number from her contacts. After four rings, the call went to voice mail.
“Dammit,” she muttered under her breath, as she listened to the mailbox greeting. At the beep, she said, “Hi, Carlos, it’s Pepper. We had a bit of confusion during filming today, and I need to talk to you and Lindsay about it. Please call me as soon as possible. Thanks.”
Just as she was hanging up, another call was beeping in. The name AJ Sherwood-Antonelli flashed on the scre
en. AJ was Pepper’s lifelong friend, business partner and costar on Catering to Dallas. Even seeing her name on the phone’s screen made Pepper feel better.
“AJ, hi. I’m so glad you called.”
“Hi, Pepper, what’s going on? I heard there was some trouble during the shoot today.”
Pepper shifted in her seat and the leather squeaked under the movement. “Well, that’s putting it mildly.” She told AJ about the bait and switch and the ensuing panic attack that had her bolting from the set.
Since her father’s arrest, she had been prone to heart palpations and sudden gripping moments of utter panic. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was almost like an out-of-body experience.
They always passed in due time, but as they were happening, the attacks were terrifying. She always had the most insane urge to run.
Fight-or-flight syndrome was what the doctor had called it. Obviously, she was a flier, not a fighter.
“I’m so sorry, hon. What a horrible thing to happen. Have you talked to Carlos and Lindsay about it? I just can’t see them being okay with something like that.”
“I called but didn’t get an answer.”
“Yeah, they mentioned that they’d be tied up with something. Probably sponsor-related. That’s just about the only thing that would keep them incommunicado.”
At least they were incommunicado for a valid reason. Not pathetically hiding out in a car parked in a garage. Besides, it was a little cold out here. When she’d run out she’d forgotten to grab her coat. As she let herself out of the car, she made a mental note to get it the next time she was at the Celebrations, Inc., office.
The thought gave her a sinking feeling.
“Hey, I left my red coat in the office,” she said to AJ. “Could you bring it home with you when you leave today? Maybe I can get it later.”
She let herself into the house. It seemed eerily quiet, but the way the sun shone in through the windows lifted her spirits.
“Sure thing,” AJ said. “We don’t have any jobs on the schedule tonight. So, I should be home around seven. Want to come over for dinner?”
“That sounds heavenly. This weary soul could use some good food and a good friend—”
The doorbell rang. Since Pepper was standing in the hallway that led to the foyer, she saw Bill Hines, director of Catering to Dallas, staring back at her through the beveled glass door. Her heart pounded, and for a split second she wished she’d stayed in the garage despite the cold.
“Ugh, Bill is at the door,” she said to AJ. “I really don’t want to talk to him right now.”
“Don’t answer the door.”
“I have to. We’re staring at each other through the glass.”
“Well, if you didn’t let him in, it would serve him right.”
“Or at least it would send him a message,” Pepper said. “I’ve got to deal with him sometime. It might as well be now. But I swear to you, if he’s come with a team of cameras. I will not be responsible for my actions.”
“If he ambushes you for a second time, you’d be within your right to deck him on grounds of self-defense. Or you can at least take comfort in knowing I will bail you out of jail.”
There was a beat of silence on the line. “Umm, sorry about that,” AJ said. “That was a poor word choice. What I was trying to say is that I’m here for you, but I’d better let you go before I put my other foot in my mouth.”
Poor AJ. “No offense taken. You don’t have to walk on eggshells with me. Besides I might very well need you to come and bail me out if Bill gets too fresh.”
Pepper forced a laugh even though she was feeling anything but humorous. Especially when Bill rang the doorbell again.
Persistent little bugger. Did he think she couldn’t see him? Could he not see that she was talking on the phone?
“Wish me luck,” she lamented.
“Somehow I get the feeling Bill’s the one who will need the luck,” said AJ. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of what I suspect he’s about to get.”
Pepper laughed again, but the humor was still absent from her voice. “Thanks, I’ll see you tonight.”
Cell phone still in hand, she walked to the door and opened it. Standing face-to-face with Bill, she did her best to resist the urge to throttle him.
He must have read the anger in her face because he held up both hands. “I come in peace, Pepper. Please don’t shoot.”
She cocked a hand on her hip. “Is that how you’ve scripted this scene, Bill?”
He sighed and looked a little pale and defeated. “May I come in so we can talk?”
“Are you alone?”
“Of course I am.”
Her gaze scanned the area behind him to make sure another television camera ambush wasn’t waiting to rush in behind him if she let him in. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she stepped aside and motioned him into the foyer, then led the way to the living room without looking back. He took a seat on the white sofa. She perched on the edge of the love seat across from him, a cue that he shouldn’t get too cozy because he wasn’t staying long. A boxy wood, glass and mirrored coffee table was an ocean between them.
They sat in silence for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. Despite the discomfort, Pepper bided her time. She’d be dammed if she was going to speak first. To convey her displeasure, her gaze trailed up the paintings that graced the living room’s white walls, to the dark wooden beams on the ceiling, over to the crystal chandelier that was reflecting the late morning sunlight. Slowly, her gaze meandered around the room, lingering on the vase of pale pink peonies she’d purchased yesterday to liven up the place. Then she eyed the ornate, limestone Baroque-style fireplace, skimmed over the stack of art books on the coffee table and finally landed on the ebony-stained wooden floorboards.
Bill must have gotten the message. “You know I was just doing my job, right, Pepper?” he finally said.
Just doing his job?
She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. Her brain was at war with her heart, and she didn’t know which one to listen to. Her heart was calling him all kinds of words that usually weren’t part of her vocabulary—but he deserved to be called each and every ugly thing for expecting her to betray her father, for embarrassing her and forcing her to flee like a dog on the run.
But her head was telling her he was right. He was only doing his job. She should’ve known better than to plop herself down right in front of the rolling cameras of a reality television show.
Bill hadn’t set her up. Sure, he may have lied by omission of the truth. But really she’d done a fine job setting herself up all by herself.
“They pay me to make Catering to Dallas successful.” His voice sounded almost apologetic, a sharp contrast to the stern tone he’d used when he’d barked orders at the cameramen earlier that day. “The bottom line is, the story surrounding your dad is a gold mine. I have a responsibility to our sponsors to tap it for everything it’s worth.”
Pepper blinked at him. “Or?”
Bill shrugged. That was when Pepper noticed he was clenching his hands together so tightly that his knuckles were white. This wasn’t any easier on him than it was on her.
“I was hoping you could help me figure that out,” he said. “That’s why I came over here. That, and to say I’m sorry for upsetting you today.”
Pepper scooted onto the edge of the love seat. “Wait, I’m confused,” she said. “If you’ve come over here to help me figure out what we’re going to do, it sounds like you’re giving me a choice.”
Bill’s brow furrowed, and at that instant Pepper knew.
“The only choice I have, Bill, is to cooperate with including my father’s case as part of the story line, or leave the show. Right?”
Her heart started racing. What the heck was she goi
ng to do for money if she left the show? This was her job. Her livelihood.
“Basically.” Bill’s voice was soft and rueful.
For some reason, Pepper felt sorry for the man. He was in as tight a spot as she was. But there was no way she would sell out her father or herself.
She nodded and cleared her throat, hoping to steady her voice. She wasn’t mad at Bill. He was simply part of the absurd reality TV machine. He was simply doing his job.
“Then I will make this very easy on both of us,” she said. Her voice was gentle and she tried her best to turn up the corners of her mouth into a smile. “If you will let me out of my contract, I will resign from the show.”
He unclasped his hands. Leaning forward, he opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but ultimately clamped his lips shut and remained silent.
Pepper could read between the lines: there was no other alternative. Not unless she caved. And she certainly wasn’t going to do that.
She stood. “Please let me know if we need to formalize anything. But I suppose my resignation is effective immediately.”
Bill stood. “I wish you would reconsider.”
Pepper took extra care to keep her tone soft. “Reconsider selling out my own father for the proverbial fifteen minutes of fame? That’s not how I operate, Bill, but it’s what you need for this show, and I can’t help you there. I won’t be the reason my father is tried and convicted before he goes to jail. Because to get the sensational television material you’re looking for, it would turn out that way.”
Pepper turned and began walking toward the front door. She heard Bill’s footsteps behind her on the hardwood.
“If your father goes to jail it will be because he was convicted by a jury of his peers. Your bowing out of Catering to Dallas isn’t going to change that.”
She opened the door. “But my bowing out will stop at least one source of the gossip.” She opened the door. “Goodbye, Bill.”
Chapter Five
When Agnes Sherwood called earlier that morning and said she wanted to meet Rob for lunch to talk about making a sizable donation to the Macintyre Family Foundation, Rob cleared his schedule.
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