Gotcha!

by Fern Michaels

  The kitchen had a garden window with pots of herbs and a few old glass bottles someone had found and thought important enough to save. The kitchen itself was small and compact, with gleaming appliances. For some reason, Mace had the feeling that someone had lived here at one time, that it wasn’t always a guesthouse. It was just a gut feeling since there were no personal items or mementos to attest to that supposition. It was a sunny place, a cheerful place, with the yellow teapot on the stove and hand-painted yellow plates hanging on the walls.

  Mace didn’t need to go up to the loft to check it out as there was nothing there except two queen-size beds separated by a screen and, at the foot of each bed, an old-fashioned trunk with ancient black hardware. They were probably antiques handed down through the family. There were colorful quilts on each bed. Probably more heirlooms passed from generation to generation. He knew a thing or two about quilts as his mother had been an active participant in a quilting group. He still, to this day, had his boyhood quilt packed in one of his dresser drawers back at the Dakota. It was almost threadbare, but he’d sooner part with his right arm than the quilt.

  A small, oak bookcase beckoned him. He squatted to look at the books and their colorful jackets. There were books by Robert Ludlum, Dean Koontz, John Irving, Helen MacInnes, Isaac Asimov, and Andrew Greeley. On the kitty-corner, a small shelf held a well-worn white Bible. He struggled to his feet with the realization that he himself had never read any portion of the Bible. Somehow, he just knew that Julie Wyatt read it from cover to cover.

  Julie Wyatt . . . his landlady.

  Across the yard, in what Mace considered the main house, Julie Wyatt changed out of her wet clothes and put away her groceries. Then she put on water for hot tea because hot tea always made her feel better when she was stressed. While she moved about her kitchen, she listened to Fox News. To be on the safe side, she snapped the lock on the kitchen door so that her new tenant couldn’t venture over and take her by surprise. She stopped what she was doing when the news at the top of the hour came on. Good at multitasking, she dipped her tea bag into the boiling water as she focused on the stern-faced commentator. She blinked when she realized that Mace Carlisle was the hour’s headliner. She blinked again as she listened to someone named Shepherd say that Carlisle Pharmaceuticals donated millions of dollars’ worth of drugs every year to Doctors Without Borders.

  The scene changed, and a shaggy-looking doctor with a beard said he was somewhere in the Hindu Kush, and without the drugs the company donated, he and his colleagues wouldn’t be able to help the thousands of people in life-and-death situations. Another doctor appeared, a woman who said that Mace Carlisle and his company were saints. Then a straggly group of people appeared, some with casts, some with bandages, all with smiles on their faces as they pointed to a picture of the man they said was their benefactor.

  Julie knew this was PR as good as it got. Who in their right mind would believe anything Mace Carlisle’s wife said after seeing this segment? Julie continued to watch as the scene changed from the Hindu Kush to a film clip from GMA, where one of the hosts had interviewed Mrs. Mace Carlisle earlier in the day.

  Julie quickly calculated the cost of the woman’s designer attire, the elaborate hairstyle, the winking diamonds in her ears, around her neck, on her wrists and fingers, and the porcelain veneers that had enabled some dentist to retire in style. She grimaced when she heard the woman say, “I did everything I could for that man! Then what does he do? I’ll tell you what he did!” she shrilled. Realizing how her voice sounded, Mrs. Mace Carlisle dabbed at her eyes. “The man evicted me. My belongings were packed up and sent downstairs. The locks were changed, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he had my son—who slaved night and day over that new drug with the FDC so Mace could make billions of dollars—evicted! My son, Eli, was the head attorney at Carlisle Pharmaceuticals, and how did Mace Carlisle show his gratitude for all his hard work and loyalty? He had him fired, and evicted also. His personal sleazy lawyer, Oliver Goldfeld, did all of Mace’s dirty work while my husband cut and ran. No one even knows where he is. We’re staying in a hotel. This isn’t right. It just isn’t right.”

  The screen split, and Shep was back, along with Doctors Without Borders. The ragtag group were smiling as Eileen Carlisle’s diamonds winked under the studio lights.

  “Bitch!” Julie mumbled under her breath. “My money’s on you, Mace.” Julie was more sure than ever that she’d made the right decision not to let Mace know she knew his real identity. She told herself things would sort themselves out at some point. And she again reminded herself that Mace Carlisle’s personal life was none of her business.

  Chapter 6

  Julie stood on the veranda and stared out across the yard. The dog days of summer had finally arrived. For the first time since moving to Alabama, she couldn’t wait for autumn. She was thankful that so far the hurricane season had been mild, and she hoped it stayed that way. She looked toward the cottage and wondered, as she did every day, what her tenant did all day long. His tenancy was fast approaching the two-month mark, and it didn’t look like he was in any hurry to leave. Yet. She had to admit that she enjoyed his company over breakfast and dinner, followed by the hour they spent after dinner with coffee on the veranda, making small talk, talking about everything and nothing.

  Every day he left the cottage with Lola and was gone for three hours. She had no idea where he went or what he did, and she had not asked. He never returned carrying anything that she saw, but, then again, she didn’t exactly spy on him, either. Every day she asked if he needed or wanted anything, and if he did, he would give her a list and make sure he paid her to the penny and even tipped her for her time and gas.

  Julie jammed her hands into her pockets. She was still carrying around the slip of paper, and it had become so wrinkled and creased that it was hard to read. But that was okay since what she had in her pocket was only a copy. The original was in her lockbox.

  It was Monday, and she always had lunch with her twin daughters, Connie and Carrie, on Mondays. They always went to the same place to eat because the twins were true vegans, and a friend owned the eatery. She hoped she could choke down the veggie burger she always ordered. Maybe the girls wouldn’t notice if she left half the burger on her plate when she told them the news that had almost blown her out of the house yesterday—when her lawyer, Arnie, called to tell her the good news. She’d been in such a tizzy, she had packed up dinner for Oliver, aka Mace, and taken it over to the cottage, saying she had to go out unexpectedly. And she had gone out to the park, where she sat on a bench until it got dark, as she tried to come to terms with what Arnie had told her.

  She hadn’t slept a wink the night before, to the dogs’ dismay, as she sat up drinking cup after cup of tea. Then, in the morning, she’d had coffee out the wazoo and was wired, a term the young people used today.

  As Julie settled herself in her truck, she mentally chastised herself for not cooling it down. Only then did she remember that the A/C still wasn’t working. “Damn,” she muttered to herself, “why can’t I ever remember to take the truck in and get it fixed?”

  Eight minutes later, making every green light in town, Julie pulled into the parking lot of Davino’s Eatery. Her daughters were sitting on a bench by the front door, surrounded by tubs of colorful flowers. Julie was tempted to take a picture of them, but she refrained.

  They hugged because they always did that, then everyone started talking at once. Julie smiled. They were as pretty as pictures, but then, every mother thought that of her children. Tall, blond, blue-eyed, with beautiful smiles. They took after her husband’s side of the family. Her twin sons, Peter and Philip, took after her side, with their dark hair and dark eyes. And then there was Larry. Don’t go there, Julie.

  Connie held the door for her mother, who headed for the booth they always sat in. She waved airily to the friend of the girls, who didn’t even bother to take their order since they always ordered the same thing every Monday.


  Carrie beamed from ear to ear. “I got an e-mail from Peter this morning, Mom. He said he and Philip might get home for Christmas. He sounded as happy as a pig in a mudslide.”

  Connie laughed. “I got an e-mail from Philly last night. He loves India as much as Pete does. Who knew your sons would love living in a third-world country? Well, they always said they wanted to build bridges when they grew up. And that’s what they’re doing, and working for peanuts for the privilege. My brothers, the architects,” she said, as if that explained Philip and Peter Wyatt and no more needed to be said.

  Julie smiled. For years now, this was how they started off their Monday luncheons. Now it was time to ask about her daughters’ business. “So, girls, how is business?”

  “We’re keeping our heads above water. You know business is always off in the summer. Art schools for gifted young artists, even ones as good as ours, just do not flourish when the sun is out and the beach beckons. We pick up by the end of September, and that’s just around the corner. Hey, Mom, we’re in the black, and what more could we ask for? We love working with the kids. So, what’s up with you? How’s that new tenant of yours doing? You got a thing going on there you aren’t telling us about?” Carrie needled.

  Julie rolled her eyes. “It’s going well, and, no, there is no thing going on there. I do have news, though, and it’s going to blow your socks off. So start guessing what it is. Actually, there are two things. One is even more awesome than the other.”

  Julie mashed at her veggie burger and listened to her twin daughters as they shot out one wild scenario after another. It was still a mystery to her why neither twin was interested in marriage. Each had a significant other in her life, but they still maintained separate residences. She consoled herself with the fact that marriage and motherhood were not for everyone, and Connie and Carrie dealt with children all day long, five days a week. Phil and Pete weren’t interested in the marriage game, either, preferring to travel and do good in the world. Phil and Pete both, like their twin counterparts, had someone special in their lives, but those relationships never lasted longer than a year, because the boys were off traveling to better the world. She sighed.

  “You’re moving back to New York because your new tenant is leaving, and you want to be in the same state?” Connie said tightly, her expression showing her misery at the idea.

  “Wrong,” Julie drawled.

  “You had another vision, and you’re going to act on it?” Carrie said sadly.

  “Wrong again,” Julie drawled a second time.

  “Okay, then, we give up already,” the twins said in unison.

  “Okay, listen up. Arnie called late yesterday and told me that Oprah’s production company is interested in having me do a cooking show for Oprah Radio. Something like what I do for the Food Network, but for a lot more money. They will pay one point five million dollars up front and two million a season for every season after the first for as long as the show lasts. Arnie faxed me the contract this morning, and all I have to do is sign it, and the money will be in my account within ten days.” Julie looked at her stunned daughters, then she looked down at the remains of her veggie burger. She winced inwardly. “I really think you should say something, girls.”

  “Well, damn,” both girls said in the same breath. For some reason, probably because they were twins, they thought alike, spoke alike, and said the same thing at exactly the same time, especially at times like this.

  “There’s more,” Julie said, a devilish twinkle in her eye. “No one knows this but me. I haven’t even told Arnie because I don’t want him to have a heart attack. I’ve known about this for . . . a long time. I just didn’t act on it. You want to try guessing what the second thing is?”

  “No!” The single word shot out from the twins at the same moment.

  Julie reached into her pocket and pulled out the creased and tattered piece of paper. She made a production out of unfolding it, then spreading it out upside down so her daughters could read it. It took a moment before the twins realized what they were looking at. “My God, Mom, you won the lottery! The BIG lottery. How could you keep something like this a secret? That’s three hundred and forty million dollars! Split in half, you keep one hundred and seventy million, pay taxes on it, but you end up with one hundred million or so. That means right now, sitting here smashing up that veggie burger, you are worth one hundred million. Oh, my God! Did you tell Philly and Petey?” Connie asked.

  “No, I haven’t told anyone but you.”

  “Mom, why haven’t you claimed it? Why have you waited three months?”

  “I have a year to claim it. It will change my life, and I’m just not ready for that right now. I’m not sure I want to go down that road even in the future. I don’t do well with change, you should know that.”

  Stunned expressions on their faces, the twins stared across the table at their mother.

  “Mom, think about what you can do with all that money! You can follow your dreams, whatever they may be. You can buy anything you want, go anywhere you want. You could buy a yacht, take sailing lessons, because you’d never trust anyone else at the helm. Hell, you could buy your own Gulfstream. You could get the A/C in your truck fixed or junk it and buy a new one. Buy new furniture. What am I saying? Mom, you could buy a whole new house!” Connie said.

  “What’s wrong with my house and my furniture?” Julie sniffed. “All those things you mentioned do not interest me at all. See! That’s what I meant. This is all going to change my life. I like my life. I love my life. I did make one decision, though. I’m never going to write that cookbook I keep talking about but never get around to doing.

  “I know exactly what you’re going to say, so don’t bother. No, I have no interest in hiring a cook or a housekeeper. Besides, no one with half a brain would work for me, what with Cooper and Gracie underfoot all the time.”

  “I’m getting all that, Mom. I’m just trying to say you can do whatever you want with all that money. Petey and Philly are going to go over the moon when you tell them,” Connie said.

  “You must have given some thought to what you would do with it, haven’t you?” Carrie asked.

  “Sometimes I thought about it in the middle of the night, when I couldn’t sleep. One time, I actually made a list of how I’d spend the money.”

  “And . . . ?” the twins asked in unison.

  “Well, I was going to pay off all your mortgages—on the art school, your houses—buy you all new cars, put money in a trust for the four of you. Take you all on a shopping spree. Have Arnie set up some kind of foundation where I could give money to the town to improve it. You know, the fire department, the police department, the sheriff’s office—new equipment, state-of-the-art stuff for our hospital, things like that. Maybe build some new schools to help with the overcrowding; set up some scholarships. Make sure no more animals are put to sleep at our shelters. For sure I’d want to help all the women’s and children’s causes.”

  The twins stared at their mother, their jaws dropping.

  “That’s it?” the twins said at the same moment.

  “No, there’s one more thing.”

  “Say it, Mom. Out loud,” both girls said.

  “I’m going to go after that effing bitch, and I’m going to get justice for Larry. I’ll hire the best damned legal team in this country. I’m going to make that monster wish she’d never been born. I’m going to drive a stake so far up her ass, I’ll be able to pitch a tent up there. If I have to, I’m going to find those vigilantes we read about in the papers and have them as my backup. What do you think of that?”

  “Yo, Sadie!” Carrie bellowed. “Fetch us the best bottle of wine you have in the house. Three chilled glasses.” The twins all but leaped over the table to hug their mother. “Way to go, Mom!” they both said.

  Julie laughed. “Do you think the boys will approve?”

  “Mom, the minute you put the wheels in motion, your sons will be here so fast you’ll think they were shot out of a c
annon. Hey, you could charter a plane to bring them home. Boy, would they get off on that,” Carrie said.

  Connie poured the wine into the chilled glasses when the waitress set it down on the table. “We need to get serious here, Mom. Turn it all over to Arnie and let him handle everything. When the smoke clears, we’ll all meet and . . . and do what needs to be done for Larry. Let’s agree and drink to that!”

  Julie smiled, her eyes glistening with tears as she held her glass up. The twins did the same. There was no turning back. She could see her life starting to change right in front of her eyes. She finished the wine in one long gulp. The twins did the same. Like mother, like daughters.

  While Julie paid the bill, Carrie carried the remainder of the wine over to a couple she knew sitting at another table. She joined her mother and twin outside. She loved the wicked grins she was seeing on Connie’s and her mother’s faces.

  They hugged and kissed the way they always did when they parted company, with Julie saying, “Drive carefully, girls,” to which they both replied, “You, too, Mom.”

  Julie drove home, her thoughts all over the map. The sky opened up just as she climbed out of the car. She was soaked to the skin before she could climb the steps to the veranda. She hated these afternoon pop-up showers that were like monsoons. Thank God there was no thunder or lightning to upset Cooper, who was already barking his head off just knowing she was outside the door, and he was inside the house. The moment she stepped inside, he threw himself at her and didn’t calm down until she squatted on the floor and rolled around with him. Gracie let her disapproval show as she pranced ahead to the bedroom, where she knew Julie would head to shed her clothes. Then she’d get her hugs and smooches and not get wet. Her tail swung importantly as she made her way. Inside Julie’s bedroom, Gracie hopped up on the bed and waited like the lady she was.