It was a relief to see that the minivan wasn't there. Grace must have taken the kids on errands. She checked the schedule board as soon as she let herself in the side door. Justin was at a friend's house and Julie was listed at an ecology day planning group at the school. Before she lost her nerve she hurried to the study, carefully pulled out the folder with the fabricated cash receipts and took pictures with her phone. She also took a picture of the monthly landscaping and housecleaning bills-she didn't put it past Grace to be pulling the same thing on the Latino women who cleaned as she was on the landscapers. Twenty percent of that and twenty percent of the housekeeper's bill was the equivalent of some people's car payments. Plus Grace was getting a salary and living probably for free in the quarters attached to the rear of the garage.
She thought of her mother and was seared with anger. She couldn't change it, she couldn't make it better, she reminded herself. To the empty room she said, "And the last thing you're going to do is head for a bar because you're angry and scared and your mother died for a stupid reason, and after she gave up everything she could have been for you, and endured things you never understood because she loved you in spite of it all."
She repeated that truth to herself as she looked in the folders for any other evidence. Her predecessor, Mary, had turned in perfect receipts, it seemed, but she wondered if Mary had been easier to strike a deal with. What about her made Grace think she couldn't strong-arm her for a cut of her pay? Her friendship with the kids? That Helen insisted on meeting with her? Maybe Grace thought if she crossed a black girl she'd get knifed or something. Kitchens were full of knives, after all.
She laughed out loud at herself. It didn't really matter why Grace hadn't tried to blackmail her for her job. She wouldn't have succeeded. But there was nothing more to find. She only had the conversation she'd overheard, the word of the landscaper and the fake receipts for cash she'd never spent.
Retreating to the kitchen, she put away the groceries and went about breaking down a whole chicken to oven-fry for Sunday supper. If her mother were alive she'd ask for advice, but she knew what it would have been. "Bend your back for what you love. Bend it for what you hate and you'll break."
She wished she knew the name of Helen's accountant-stupid woman, she told herself. It's got to be in the files somewhere. But even as she decided to go back and look the minivan pulled in. Grace and Julie were home.
"Mrs. Baynor-your class was stupendous yesterday morning and we can't wait to get back to the ship to clean up and go to your four o'clock."
"Thank you." Helen peered through the dockside glare as she and the small group of women waited for the next tender back to the ship from the busy cruise port at George Town on Grand Cayman. She recognized the woman from Beverly Hills. "I'm looking forward to it."
"A group of friends and I were wondering if you'd have dinner with us this evening? We've got an early reservation in the Italian restaurant. Then-of course-we're all going to the Evening with Trevor Huntley."
She'd been trying to figure out how to ask Karolina to have dinner with her again, just as they had after sunbathing most of yesterday afternoon away. It appeared that while she had the self-control not to openly drool on the woman, she didn't have the self-control to keep some kind of distance. Maybe the invitation for dinner with others was a sign. "I'd love to. I can't wait for Mr. Huntley's talk either. It seems a shame to make you all leave Grand Cayman early to hear me, though." She glanced at Karolina, who looked crisp and fresh in a white muslin wrap dress and a large sun hat. "Who do I complain to about the schedule?"
"Haven't the slightest," she answered. "Someone in the production company screwed that up." She fluttered her eyelashes innocently before moving away just enough to leave Helen to her conversation.
"We thought we'd meet at the Solar Lounge for a cocktail before dinner. Around five thirty or quarter to six?"
"I'll be there," Helen agreed.
"I'm glad," Karolina said, after the woman had taken her leave to share the news with her friends. "I have to dine with my client rep tonight to go over our financial outlook and I was afraid I'd be abandoning you potentially to you-know-who."
"I think that's over and done with." She hadn't seen Eugene since lunch yesterday, but she hadn't expected to. "The tender is nearly here."
The small white craft with a bright blue awning over the passenger area was gliding to a halt at the dock. There was easily enough room for all of them for the short ferry to where the Solstice Eclipse was anchored. Burly ship's personnel tied the craft and set out steps with smooth efficiency and they helped the passengers from the dock and safely to a seat.
"I like this part," Karolina said. She pulled off her hat and tossed back her hair as they departed the dock as quickly as the tender had arrived.
Helen had to close her eyes. Their excursion ashore had included shopping and a two-hour stay poolside at a very posh resort. Julie would have loved the black string bikini Karolina wore under her white muslin wrap, but as far as Helen was concerned, it was an invitation to delicious sin and she was definitely a wannabe sinner. As they picked up speed the wind was lifting her hair. She looked like some Greek water goddess.
"So do I, though I don't think my stomach is as strong a sailor as yours."
"You're okay, right?"
She peeked out of one eye to smile at Karolina. "Fine. I'm just glad I'm not sitting on the outside rail like you."
Karolina sighed. "Isn't this the life? I'm usually terribly busy but while most of the people on the cruise have demanding standards, they're not demanding-at least not of me." Karolina sounded half drowsy even though the little craft was bouncing across the waves. "I feel positively wicked for stealing this time. Thank you for spending it with me."
She wanted to keep her eyes closed but it was impossible. The thin white fabric was billowing in the wind, outlining the sleek lines of Karolina's shoulders and breasts like a second skin. Just looking Helen was turning to liquid in parts of her body that had been frozen and apparently resentful for decades and were now intent on making up for the lost time. Those parts were trying to do all the thinking and filling her head with images of Karolina's head thrown back just as it was now in the wind, but in response to Helen's touch. The roar of the boat's engines were in sync with the throb in her belly that never seemed to stop. She imagined sounds of whispered encouragement. Twinges of nerves sent unsettling tingles down her thighs, then up to her nipples and back again. It was unnerving and embarrassing. She wasn't sure she could stop it if she tried.
Moxie drawled, "Why on earth would you want to try, dollface?"
The tender was expertly brought alongside the small floating dock that was tied to the lower deck passenger entry. Karolina pushed herself upright. "What a wonderful day."
The gods were having a good laugh at Helen Baynor, she decided. Oh you queen of no time for sex, no time for love, who acted the part of a woman and didn't spend any time being one unless the parts of actress or mom required it, think again. You do have a body that's capable of more than commanding a stage.
Even if she... Even if they... She didn't have the first clue what to do. Not a clue, not a one. Distracted and trying hard not to watch Karolina retie her wrap, she didn't notice the raised doorway from the arrival deck to the ship's corridor. For an instant she was sure she was about to plant face-first on the carpet, but her fall was stopped by a stocky, dark-skinned woman passing the doorway, who caught Helen's arm in a firm grasp.
"Whoa there. Are you okay?" She let Helen go.
"Yes, thank you." Without thinking better of it she said, "You're very strong."
The woman, who was almost as broad-shouldered as she was tall and sported hair so short that it was impossible to tell if it was black or gray, said, "And you're Helen Baynor, aren't you? I couldn't believe it when I saw your picture on one of the marquees."
Helen nodded. "Thank you for saving me."
She got a firm, endearing smile in response. "I can ca
ll it my fifteen minutes of fame. I saved Helen Baynor's life."
If this woman isn't a lesbian, then no one is, Helen thought. "I'll back you up on that claim." She nodded and got a wink back and only then did she take note of the Human Rights Campaign logo on the woman's ball cap. Well, apparently she had working gaydar.
As she rejoined her, Karolina asked, "Does that happen to you often?"
Did she mean being rescued by a cute lesbian? See, you're not just after lesbians. That woman was adorable and you're still thinking about Karolina, so it's not just women. It's still safe to be around women. You're not going to go back to New York and want to jump Cass. That was eww on so many levels.
"Being recognized," Karolina clarified. She led the way down the carpeted corridor to the elevator. "Does that happen often?"
"Away from New York? No, not really." She could still feel the woman's touch on her arm, but it wasn't sexual. It was just human contact. That was a good sign, wasn't it? That she wasn't fetishizing every lesbian she met? She didn't want to get home again and find she was panting after Laura either, that was hardly appropriate, even if Laura was really nice, and interesting, and rather attractive and easy to talk to.
"You're very modest. I find that unusual in a performer." The elevator arrived and Karolina pushed the number for her own deck and then Helen's as the door closed.
Focused entirely on Karolina, she said, "I'm actually not modest at all. I'm very aware that few women on the stage right now have my credentials and abilities. That probably sounds arrogant." She forestalled a protestation with a gesture. "There are two parts to the equation. There's the gift I was born with and I can't take credit for that any more than I can for the color of my skin. It's as if someone handed me a winning lottery ticket that I didn't even buy. But I cashed that ticket in, and used everything it gave me with as much tenacity and courage as I could find, and backed up every advantage it gave me with hard work. Now that I take credit for. That was all a choice and I'm proud of it."
"A woman after my own heart," said someone behind her.
With a start, Helen turned in the small space and found herself face-to-face with Trevor Huntley. He was at least ten years older than she was, and his craggy New Yorker face was familiar worldwide, though not as readily when obscured by a Mets cap and sunglasses. She smiled and held out her hand. "Mr. Huntley, it's a pleasure."
"Likewise. I was asking myself how it is that you and I have never been in a project together." If he noticed that other people in the elevator had suddenly given him more space, it didn't show.
He had a wonderful voice, lighter in person than on recordings, but with round, open tones that spoke of hard training for diction that had become natural to him. Helen thought she would happily listen to him read the phone book. "Let's blame our agents."
"Done."
"You've of course met our host, Karolina Tavitian."
"We met this morning," Karolina confirmed.
He nodded and said to Helen, "This is nice work if we can get it, isn't it?"
"That's what my son said." The elevator stopped at her deck. "Until later."
She also received a nod plus a hint of a wink. Good heavens, the man had charm for miles.
As she showered for her own lecture she wondered just how bad it was that while she had nonchalantly chatted with a megastar part of her had been fantasizing about following Karolina to her cabin and helping her out of her swimsuit. She was starting to be concerned for her focus during a performance.
It would be funny, except it wasn't.
After a restless Sunday night without much sleep, Laura had finally decided on the only reasonable thing she could do. The more she thought about it, the more she believed that what she had found might only be the tip of an iceberg. Grace could have access to emergency accounts or credit cards. Anyone who would steal for so little might actually be stealing more-or with the hope of more.
She waited until it was after nine in New York, turning her phone over in her hands, getting up her nerve. One of the phone numbers on the schedule board was for Helen's agent, and Helen herself had referred to Cassidy as her closest friend. She was a regular visitor over the holidays, apparently, plus when she'd had surgery for cervical cancer, Cassidy had stayed with the Baynors during part of her convalescence. The kids knew her and she knew them, and she was a trusted friend of the family-and, importantly, someone Helen trusted in a business context as well.
She told a baby-voiced receptionist her name and asked for Ms. Winters. They went back and forth over it being a private matter, but as soon as she said she worked for Helen Baynor she was put on hold. A few moments later, a brisk voice picked up the line.
"Helen? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry," Laura said. "It's not Helen. I'm her private chef, Laura Izmani."
"Oh-sorry. The message was muddled. Are Justin and Julie okay?"
She took a deep breath. "They're fine. I've come across a situation here that I don't know how to resolve. If Mrs. Baynor were due home this week as usual I'd talk to her directly, but I don't think I can let it go until Sunday when she gets back. And it's possible I wouldn't be able to see her until our regular meeting next Tuesday, when she would expect to meet with me."
"Doesn't her house manager handle emergencies?"
"It involves her. I don't have the authority to confront her."
The razor's edge in Cassidy's tone sharpened. "Grace? What are we talking about here? Drunk on the job? Cruel to the kids? What?"
She heard the wariness in Cassidy's voice. If Laura was a troublemaker, waiting until Helen was out of the country was the way to go, and she knew Cassidy had to be leery of everything Laura told her. Who wouldn't be?
"No, far more ordinary. I have proof that she's padding expenses-paying herself for things I never bought and recording them as if I asked to be reimbursed cash. I also overheard her threatening some of the workers with firing if they didn't increase their kickback to her for their jobs. The landscapers. For Mrs. Baynor I think the sum is probably pretty minor, but I don't think she'd like it and anyone who would do that, well, there's no telling what else she might do. I have no idea at all what sums she could take on her way out of town if she realized I knew what she was up to. Or may have already taken but no one has figured it out yet."
"Neither do I. Do you really have proof? I know Helen's accountant. She's here in New York."
"I do-photographs of fake receipts. She says she paid me cash and I'll swear under oath it never happened. And I think the landscaping supervisor would back me up, if he knew Grace wouldn't be able to fire him and his crew. He was very angry when she told him they had to pay more-that's why I was listening. I heard an angry man shouting at a woman-"
"Send me the photos. And don't do anything until you hear from me. I have to say that I'm stunned and I don't quite know what to think."
"I'm not a liar, Miss Winters," Laura said without heat. "I don't have a personal grudge against Grace. Well, I didn't, but now... This was very hard for me to do. I'm used to solving problems like these, but as I said, I don't have the authority. But I understand you have to think about it. I've been stewing over it for two days."
Cassidy gave Laura her email address then added, "I know you had excellent references, but then Grace came from an agency that vets people too." She sighed. "Helen and her goody-two shoes would not like this and she'd kill me for not telling her. But no way am I telling her while she's on that cruise. She'd jump overboard and swim back if she thought anything would disrupt the kids' lives. You may have to wait and keep quiet."
"At least I won't be alone in the waiting. This is rather over my pay grade, so to speak."
"I get that. But please, don't do anything until you hear from me."
Grateful that her pounding heart hadn't been audible in her voice, Laura keyed in Cassidy's email address and forwarded the photos from her phone. There was no going back.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When Laura turned on
her phone early Tuesday morning, she was surprised to have an email from Cassidy Winters asking her to come to an office in Redwood City at eleven a.m. She looked up the address-it was a CPA's office. Someone affiliated with Helen's accountant in New York maybe? She was willing to go but wished she knew what kind of reception she was going to get.
She fussed over her clothes. The Dolce & Gabbana jacket always gave her courage and she paired it with tailored black slacks. She found the office in one of Redwood City's office parks that also housed hundreds of small to large Internet companies. Walking from her car to the building she took a steadying breath of the cool morning air. The fog was in, blanketing the sky in gray. She hoped it wasn't an omen. She had done nothing wrong and ultimately, though it would hurt a lot, she could walk away from the job and this situation. All that may be true, she told herself, but you're still the black employee complaining that the white one is stealing. There was no predicting how people acted sometimes.
She was relieved to see no sign of Grace or the minivan she usually drove. She realized she had half expected it to be a she said/she said confrontation.
Hoping she exuded confidence, she gave her name to the receptionist and was shown to a small conference room. Scarcely a minute later a large man in a gray suit, sporting an amazing handlebar moustache, opened the door. He stepped back to allow a very thin woman with spiky blond hair to precede him into the room.
"Cassidy Winters?" Laura thought she looked familiar from photographs in the Baynor house, but she looked even more thin and tightly wound in person. "You flew here from New York?"
"Yes. A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Izmani."
"Laura, please."
"I'm Cass. And this is Daryl Kech, a colleague of Helen's accountant in New York. He's going to observe some of the business niceties for this situation."
They shook hands all around, then settled around the small table. She declined a cup of coffee, but watched Cass open three packets of sugar substitute and stir it into hers. Daryl opened a folder, but it was Cass who did all of the talking.
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