“It was so much cooler when you made Kool-Aid come out your nose.” Matty winked.
“Can’t say I’ve done that in a while.” Shelby wanted to rest her head on his shoulder. Matty was everything she remembered and more. So sweet and funny and adorable and wonderful and now handsome and sexy, too. God, what she wouldn’t give to be with him.
“You ready?” he took her hand.
“Would you mind very much if I tried to put myself together before I go in? I promise I’ll just be a minute.”
“Sure. Of course,” he pushed the bangs from her eyes. “But honest, Shelby. You look great.”
“Thanks.” She actually blushed.
No doubt seeing him again was not at all how Shelby imagined it would be. Her daydreams about running into Matty Lieberman, and there had been hundreds, had been more in the vein of bumping into him at a restaurant when she was dressed in a little black number by Armani that cost more than her zip code. Or, crossing paths at a busy airport like O’Hare, just as they were passing a billboard on which her face appeared. But in all the scenarios, never once did she envision an encounter that also included a New York State trooper, Matty’s mother, and his wife.
Interestingly, even in a worst-case scenario, she never imagined running into him when her hair was windblown, her face was dirty, and her makeup was worn off. Talk about needing emergency roadside assistance. She would have paid a king’s ransom for someone to pull up with a hairblower and a washcloth. Instead, she was left to ransack her bag looking for anything resembling beauty items. Then when she concluded she’d done her best to revive herself given her limited resources, she approached the McCreighs’ massive front door.
But even before she could tap the solid brass knocker, Matty was anxiously waiting. “Come on in. Can I get you a cold drink, would you like to use the bathroom, do you need to use the phone, how are you feeling….”
“Wow, slow down.” Shelby laughed, touched that he was trying so hard to make her feel welcome. “I’m fine. A cold drink would be great, the bathroom would be even better.”
And then after turning out the bathroom light, but before getting a chance to snoop around, he was calling his mother to come downstairs.
“I can’t wait to meet your wife,” Shelby lied, as they waited for the former Mrs. Lieberman to descend the longest spiral staircase she had ever seen. “Is she here?”
“Actually, I don’t know where she is.” His brow furrowed. “Which is very unlike her. She’s always so punctual. But I’m sure she’ll be back soon. She must have gone out on an errand.”
“No problem,” Shelby replied, wondering what possible errand a lieutenant governor’s daughter needed to run? A quick stop at a Christian Lacroix trunk show?
“Mother, come down here,” Matty yelled again.
“What is it, darling?” she called from upstairs. “I hope it’s not time to leave yet. I still haven’t finished packing.”
“No, we have time. But there’s someone I want you to meet. Someone really special.”
“Can it wait?”
“I think she’s waited long enough. Please just come down…Do you know where Gwen is?”
“I give up. Where?” She carefully took one step at a time.
“That’s what I’m asking you? Have you seen her? Do you know where she went?”
“All I know is she took off like a bat out of hell right after you left. Who knows? Maybe she was running low on headbands.”
“Mother! Stop it!”
But Shelby was loving every minute of this familiar exchange. The teasing, loose-lipped Mrs. Lieberman saying whatever came to mind, to the chagrin of her helpless son. And how wonderful she looked. Tall and slender as she remembered, with the same store-dyed red hair. But then as she looked closely, there were laugh lines around the mouth and wrinkles around the eyes.
“You’re impossible!” Matty took a deep breath and reached for Shelby’s hand. “Mother, I asked you to come down here because look who I found.”
Carol McCreigh studied Shelby up and down with approval. “I have no idea. Miss July?”
“No.” He laughed nervously. “Although I agree with you, she certainly could be. But look again. Really close. What former person in our life does she remind you of?”
Once again Mrs. McCreigh examined Shelby, checking out the eyes, the hair, the coloring. And then a strange sense of déjà vu came over her and she threw open her arms. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she cried. “Shelby?”
“Yes.” Shelby embraced her, taken aback that they were approximately the same height.
“I can’t believe my eyes. You’re an absolute vision.”
“Thank you, and you look wonderful, too,” Shelby returned, her heart filled with joy.
“I can’t believe how much you look like Sandy. I should have figured it out right away. Oh for heaven’s sake,” she repeated. “What happened? Did you two just bump into each other?”
“Just about.” Matty chuckled as he ushered her and Shelby into the sitting room, or parlor, or Shelby wasn’t sure what the hell to call it, with its wall of French doors, stone fireplace, and books from floor to ceiling.
“Like the Palace of Versailles, isn’t it?” Mrs. McCreigh asked as she watched marvel cross Shelby’s face.
“Actually, it reminds me of your house on Majestic Court.” She looked around.
“It does?” Matty and his mother replied in unison.
“Sure. With the den being off the kitchen and all.”
Hands down, it was the greatest one-liner of her life, and the key that opened the door to a magical conversation, where Shelby offered up the Reader’s Digest, condensed version of her volatile life since 1969. For someone like herself who coveted privacy, it amazed her how comfortable she felt spilling her guts.
And obviously the phenomenon of sharing was so new and strange, she’d completely monopolized the conversation. She expressed her condolences to Mrs. McCreigh on the loss of her brother and recalled the fun times she had at his home on the Jersey Shore. Then suddenly darkness descended. Gwendolyn Armonk McCreigh walked in with a puss that could have killed Boots.
“Are you the reporter from the Informer?”
“Yes, hello…” Shelby stood up to shake her hand. Was it just her imagination, or had the house gone from sunny and cheerful to black and ominous the minute Gwen entered?
“Good. Because here’s a late-breaking story for you.” She put two Ann Taylor shopping bags down and marched over to the window. “Your car is leaking oil all over our driveway, and I’m afraid the surface is damaged. We’ll have to bill you or the paper for the repaving. Right, honey?”
“I’m sure if there’s a problem, the paper will do the responsible thing.” An embarrassed husband ran over to peck his wife’s cheek.
Don’t hold your breath, Shelby thought. “I’m very sorry,” she said instead. “It must be why this red whatchamacallit light kept blinking on my way over here. Let me know what the damage is, and I’ll…”
“Gwen, please,” Matty interrupted. “I’m sure this isn’t going to be a problem…Honey, there’s something important I have to tell you. This is Shelby Lazarus.”
“Yes, I know.” Gwen removed a cigarette from a gold case in an end table drawer. “We spoke on the phone.”
“The funny thing is, you never mentioned her name. You just said a reporter was coming over, and as it turns out, we go back a long time. We grew up together.”
“Is that right?” Gwen took a long drag as she eyed Shelby’s legs. “Nice to meet you. How long will this take?”
“Fifteen, twenty minutes tops?” Shelby smiled. No doubt the longest fifteen, twenty minutes of her life. What had Matty seen in this woman, aside from her beauty, prominence, and vast wealth?
“Fine, but no more than that. I need to get my roast in the oven.” She addressed her husband. “Mummy and Daddy will be here at six for drinks, then Missy and Bink are joining us at seven.”
And will Chi
p and Dip be here, too? Shelby wanted to howl. Instead, she found herself coughing from smoke inhalation. Did she dare ask the lady of the house to step outside?
Thankfully Matty came to the rescue. “Gwen, honey. Shelby just found out she’s pregnant. I’m sure she doesn’t want to be around smoke.”
“Is that right?” Gwen eyed the other blonde’s flat abs. “No problem.” She extinguished the offending cigarette and narrowed her eyes. “Is she the one you named your dog after?”
“Yes,” the elder Mrs. McCreigh said. “But you’d think if he was naming it after a bitch…”
“MOTHER!” Matty hollered. “Does it ever occur to you not to speak?”
“Sorry, darling.” She patted his cheek. “Sometimes I forget my place. Old age and all. I think I’ll go up and finish packing. Shelby, dear. Please don’t go without saying good-bye.”
“Of course.” Shelby hugged her.
“Isn’t it time to take her to the airport?” Gwen gritted.
“Soon.” Matty shook his head in disbelief.
“Not soon enough,” Gwen muttered as she settled into the floral chintz couch. “Could we please get started?”
“Of course.” Shelby fetched her notebook and chose a burnished, red leather chair close enough to hear, but too far to be bitten. “So,” she smiled, “how did you and Matty meet?”
“Matty?” Gwen raised an eyebrow. “That’s rather adorable…”
Shelby blushed. Nothing like calling a grown man by his baby name.
“How we met is a great story, isn’t it, honey?” He laughed nervously as he plopped himself down on the couch next to his wife.
“One of your favorites.” Gwen sniffed.
“We were at Lincoln Center.” He ignored his wife’s indifference. “Gwenny had brought her mother to the ballet, and I had just moved to New York and was dragged there by an old college buddy whose girlfriend was performing. Anyway, it’s intermission, and as usual, the line to the ladies’ room is a mile long. But not the men’s room. All of a sudden, Gwen decides to take matters into her own hands.”
“Don’t tell me?” Shelby impersonated a fascinated journalist.
“That’s right.” Matty grinned. “She was determined not to stand on ceremony or on line.” He laughed at his own joke. “So in she walks, while I’m relieving myself. Now as you can imagine, I was caught off guard. I mean here’s this beautiful young maiden and me, not exactly ready for company.” He squeezed Gwen’s arm as if this private moment was something special.
“And the rest, as they say, is history.” Gwen looked out the window.
Matty nodded, still smiling from the recanting of the story. And how wonderful he looked, with his impish grin that begged you to love him, like an overgrown dog who still thought he was a puppy. Trouble was, Shelby stared too long at him, causing Gwen to move in closer. The signal he had permission to touch her.
Shelby kept a steady smile going when Matty placed his arm around his wife’s narrow shoulder. “That really was a great story.” She looked down at her notes. Get me out of here.
With her remaining time, Shelby lobbed softball questions, with the same predictable outcome. Matty’s answers were animated and sincere. Gwen’s repertoire included two different type of smirks and a groan. She spoke up only once.
“Do you know that man at your newspaper who does the horoscopes?”
“You mean Warner Lamm? Yes, I do.”
“I like him.” She nodded. “Does he do private readings?”
“Uh-huh. Although I understand it takes forever to get an appointment…”
“But you could get me in if you wanted. Isn’t that right?” She sniffed.
“Why, Gwenny,” Matty teased, “you’d actually go to someone like that?”
“Why not? You once did.”
“Not that I can recall.” His face reddened.
“Well, maybe he wasn’t an astrologer exactly, but he was something.”
“Do you mean that healer I went to in the city?”
“Yes, him.”
“They’re not the same thing,” he gritted. “That man put an end to my back pain.”
“Which was all in your head.”
“I hardly think a flare-up of the sciatic nerve is something one imagines, darling.”
Oh God. We even have back problems in common, Shelby thought. Maybe it’s a sign. “Okay, how about I talk to Warner first thing Monday?” she said. “I’m sure he’d be delighted to read for you, Mrs. McCreigh…. Is there time for one last question?”
“Ask away,” Matty appeared none too anxious to be alone with his wife.
Gwen looked at her watch.
“Forgive me, but I haven’t even asked about your children?” Shelby prayed the marriage had never been consummated, let alone produced offspring.
“We have a daughter, Emily.” Matty looked down. “She’s turning six.”
“I really must be getting my roast in the oven,” Gwen said, storming off to the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” Shelby stood up. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, of course not,” Matty stood, too. “It’s just…we’re having a difficult time at the moment. Emily is…not well…she’s in a home now…”
“Matty, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…”
“Will you excuse me for a minute?” He didn’t wait for a reply and ran after his wife. “Mother, come back down, please. Keep Shelby company.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” Shelby shooed him out. Poor man was so conflicted. Besides, she wanted time to scope out the room looking for pictures of Emily. But on her way to check out what looked like family photos on the mantel, she bumped into Gwen’s shopping bags and discovered they were empty.
Shelby immediately put on her reporter’s hat and began considering the different reasons a woman would want to give the appearance she’d just been to the mall. Unfortunately, even a cub reporter could put two and two together. The only reason to show up with nothing in the bags was so a husband, for instance, never suspected where his wife had really been. Or with whom.
“So, darling, tell me,” the elder Mrs. McCreigh asked, startling her. “What do you think of all this?”
“Oh, it’s incredible all right,” Shelby laughed. And getting better every minute.
“Doesn’t Matthew look marvelous?” the proud mother asked.
“Yes, he does.”
“I mean not bad. Considering everything. I don’t know how much he’s told you.”
“Nothing really,” Shelby thought it best to let the remark pass. “Tell me. How is Wendy doing?”
“Fantastic!” Mrs. McCreigh clapped. “She married such a great guy. A surgeon! They have four beautiful children, a gorgeous home, she writes children’s books in her spare time…”
“Wow! She must be really busy.”
“It’s crazy how she runs with them, to soccer, gymnastics, dance classes, music lessons. All I can say is, thank God I didn’t have to wait around for that little pisher to open her legs.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “Otherwise, I’d still be waiting for grandchildren.”
Shelby nodded, but wasn’t sure what to make of the comment. Matty had just said he and Gwen had a daughter, Emily. But better let that one pass, too. The mere mention of a child had caused Gwen to flee. She didn’t want the elder Mrs. McCreigh to run away as well.
“You have no idea how long I tried to find your family.” Shelby smiled wistfully. “I’ve looked everywhere. What happened to you guys? And what’s with the alias?”
Mrs. McCreigh planted a juicy kiss on Shelby’s cheek. “It’s a very long story, dear, and not one I can discuss now. But I’ll tell you this much. I haven’t seen Matthew this happy since he was ten.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Say what you would about the rich. Their walls were as thin as everyone else’s. Either that, or Gwen had especially strong lungs. For even from inside the guest bathroom, Shelby could hear her carrying on in the kitchen. “I don�
��t give a damn what kind of car trouble she’s having! Let her call Triple A!”
“But that’s not necessary, dear,” Matthew argued. “I know the owner of the Lexus dealer in White Plains.”
“No you don’t! We’ve never owned a Lexus.”
“I just know him, okay? And I know he’ll be happy to help Shelby out.”
“Oh, go to hell!” Gwen slammed a cabinet door. “I don’t care what you do for your little girlfriend. Just make sure you’re back in time to help me this evening.”
His little girlfriend? Shelby giggled as she snuck out the front door and ran to her car to retrieve her cell phone and sunglasses. Hopefully, Matty wouldn’t realize she’d overheard their arguing. But she would definitely tell him how much she appreciated his help in arranging for her car to be towed and serviced.
Even better was his generous offer to drive her back to Long Island after they dropped off his mother. Finally, she would get the chance to probe what surely would be the most important investigative story of her life. Where Matty Lieberman had been hiding all these years, and how he ended up married to Wifey Dearest.
Unfortunately, the ride to the airport was not the gabfest Shelby expected, as once the shock of being reunited wore off, reality set in. Who among them was not thinking about the staggering implications of Matty and Shelby seeing each other again? No wonder conversation was limited to awkward small talk, lodged in between long silences.
But when Shelby realized they were driving over the Whitestone Bridge, the very place where only a few hours earlier she’d had her meltdown, she had to say something. “Would anyone like to hear about my day?”
“Love to,” Matty replied immediately.
“Okay then. Let’s see.” She cleared her throat. “I started out the morning at the hospital where the head orthopedic surgeon told me the pins he put in my dad’s hip aren’t doing the trick, and now he’s probably going to need a whole hip replacement. Then my aunt Roz’s plastic surgeon told me her face isn’t healing as well as he had hoped, and he may have no choice other than to do a procedure that’s even more painful than skin grafts.
A Little Help from Above Page 27
