A Black Tie Affair

by Sherrill Bodine

  “Don’t worry.” Connor had on his lawyer face. “I can delay the media frenzy. My contact at the police department will take care of the robbery report. It will be recorded for insurance purposes and then kept securely under wraps for three weeks. If we can convince the Smith sisters to keep quiet, we’ve got twenty-one days to find those dresses before all hell breaks loose.”

  “Under those circumstances, will the police still investigate?” Drew asked.

  “If there’s an investigation, I’ll be the number-one suspect,” Bridget stated flatly.

  “Aunt Bridget, you’re above suspicion. Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything.” Connor’s frown shifted to the sweet, sensitive smile he reserved only for her. Drew had seen plenty of women try to coax the same smile out of Connor and fail.

  If Drew weren’t a master at hiding his own feelings, he would have missed the flash of guilt in Bridget’s eyes.

  Seeing it felt like a blade through his heart. She’d been like a mother to him. “Connor’s right. No one blames you for this, Bridget.”

  He moved to stand beside her, shoulder to shoulder with Connor, like the Clayworths always stood.

  Ed gave a deep, rumbling sigh. “I’m sure the insurance company won’t consider anyone in this room a suspect in the theft. However, they may be concerned about Athena suing all of you for what happened to her there.” He cleared his throat again. “I hesitate to mention this, but is it possible with Athena’s connections in the vintage world that she could be involved in this theft?”

  Drew’s eyes clashed with Connor’s, and the room rang with it.

  “Think about it, Drew. Vintage couture is Athena’s specialty. And the gowns were the only items taken.”

  Odd he felt the need to defend her. “Or someone wants us to believe Athena is involved. So this was a good time to make their move.”

  Fury in her eyes, Bridget pushed herself up. “This is total rubbish, and I forbid all of you to ever mention such a thing again! Those lovely young women aren’t guilty of anythin’ besides loathin’ the lot of us.”

  Connor shrugged. “I agree about Diana and Athena. But I wouldn’t put anything past Venus. Short of committing the robbery herself.”

  Bridget smiled, her eyes widening, like the thought intrigued her. Ed turned an unhealthy scarlet, obviously embarrassed to be found so far off base.

  Drew knew the spirited Smith sisters were capable of a great deal. Larceny? He doubted it. Even if their father’s dealings were questionable.

  “Ed, you’re right about Athena’s connections. She could help us locate possible black-market venues where the dresses might be sold. Lewis said we need to find those missing dresses before anyone else becomes affected. It’s Clayworth’s responsibility.”

  Connor nodded. “If you can convince Athena to keep quiet, we have three weeks to do it until we’ll be in a legal tangle we don’t need right now on the heels of the Alistair mess.”

  A ticking clock, like the Clayworth symbol crowning the corner of their flagship store in Chicago’s Loop, loomed over Drew. He had three weeks to keep the others safe. Three weeks before he left for the Fastnet in England. Three weeks to deal with Athena Smith back in his life.

  He had no other choice but to start now by telling her the truth and ask for her help.

  “Athena, I knew I should have gone to help you no matter what.” Makayla launched herself down to engulf Athena in a breath-defying hug.

  Athena sucked in some air. Happy to be free of the IV bags, she patted Makayla’s shoulder. “Don’t upset yourself,” she soothed as she’d done so often for her sisters. “I’m glad you weren’t there. We certainly don’t need the two of us in hospital beds. What would the museum do without us?”

  “You’re right. Gotta keep the place going.” With a deep, shuddering sigh, Makayla pulled herself up, kohl smeared around her wet eyes. “Everyone at the museum sends their love. Leonard sent these awesome flowers from his garden.”

  Makayla thrust a fragrant bouquet of tiny roses toward Athena.

  Thinking of gruff, rugged Leonard tending roses in the greenhouse window of his kitchen sent a rush of affection curling through her.

  As if on cue, a volunteer strolled into the room, staggering a bit under the weight of an enormous bouquet of pink roses and baby’s breath.

  Makayla yanked her small bouquet behind her back.

  The older woman smiled. “Hello, dear. We have this beautiful bouquet for you.”

  Athena quickly read the small white enclosure card and stopped smiling back. No rush of affection here. More like unease. It didn’t feel right to take it. “Thank you, but I’m sure there are other patients on the floor who would love to have these flowers. I already have a beautiful bouquet.”

  Disbelief plainly written across her face, the older woman gasped. “You don’t want these lovely flowers?”

  Athena knew Drew had sent flowers from Clayworth’s out of expediency.

  “I’d like to share the flowers. I’m sure I’ll be going home today,” Athena said softly. She didn’t want to be rude, but she hoped the woman would retreat, taking the arrangement with her.

  Mercifully, she seemed to understand and backed from the room. Through the open door Athena saw her put the flowers back on the cart and clatter down the hall.

  Ponytail swinging, Makayla marched forward to place Leonard’s bouquet on the bedside table. “You want this one, right?”

  “Love it.” Athena smiled up and caught Makayla staring at Drew lounging in the open doorway.

  Of course she’s staring. His air of supreme confidence always made him irresistible. Even now, when I know better.

  “Is he, like, a movie star or something?” Makayla whispered, giving Drew the once-over.

  “Drew Clayworth.”

  “For real? He’s hot,” she breathed, her eyes straying back to him.

  Hot. Another scene drifted through her head. Her dressed in this same hideous puke green gown, throwing herself at Drew, clinging to him and smothering him in kisses. Truth, or hallucination like Bertha and Jackie?

  Please, please don’t let it be true.

  Her stomach felt hollow, like it did when she had to do something she dreaded. She sucked up her courage to find out the truth. “I need to talk privately for a few minutes with Mr. Clayworth.”

  Makayla appeared not to hear her as she peered at him through half-closed lids, her cheeks rosy, her pale lips parted.

  “Makayla,” Athena breathed, trying to be discreet.

  Looking down at her with owl eyes, Makayla blinked. “Awesome. Got ya. I’ll be back later.”

  At the door, Drew stepped aside for her to pass. “Have a good day,” he said before strolling in.

  He appeared totally unconscious of the nearly swooning young woman he’d left in his wake.

  Some things never change.

  But she’d changed. She no longer felt guilt, regret, and confusion about what she’d done so long ago. Now he had no effect on her whatsoever. Again the prickly heat crawled along her skin. Had she confessed something else when she’d thrown herself at him?

  Safe behind her concealing glasses, Athena braced herself to find out.

  “Why do you wear those glasses? You had Lasik surgery when you were seventeen,” he said lightly.

  Thrown off by his new tack, she fiddled with the frames. What’s he up to now? “I’m having eye strain from work.”

  “I can give you the name of an excellent ophthalmologist.”

  “No, thank you. I have my own.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He is a she.” Athena thrust up her chin, wanting to get this unpleasantness over with. “I need to tell Dr. Stemmer that I’ve remembered one of my colleagues was hospitalized with symptoms similar to mine after examining a Dior dress. The netting was degrading and giving off toxic substances, so… so I believe something similar has happened with the boning in Bertha’s gown. We must conserve the Bertha Palmer dress by placing it in cold st
orage. The degradation process is slowed down significantly, and then the boning can be replaced.”

  He nodded, and she saw him square his shoulders, like he’d always done when he needed to do something he dreaded. “We will as soon as we find the dress.”

  “Find the dress?” Shock brought her straight up in bed. “What are you talking about? You told me it was being delivered to the hospital hours ago.”

  “The closet was broken into after you left. All four Bertha Palmer dresses were taken.”

  His words froze her in disbelief and fear. “No! Those priceless dresses need to be safe in my museum where I can take care of them. Are there any suspects?”

  Deep in his eyes, guilt flickered. She saw it and jumped to her own conclusion.

  “Surely no one believes I had anything to do with this?”

  His tiny pause sent such passionate anger roaring through her, she wouldn’t have been surprised if smoke spewed from her ears. “Oh, my God, you do think I did this!”

  He shook his head. “Athena—”

  “You honestly think I made myself sick so someone could steal those dresses!” she out-shouted him.

  “No, I…”

  After all she’d been through with his family and with him, he didn’t look contrite enough to her.

  Or is this the truth serum still at work?

  “I should sue you for defamation of character, even if my dad didn’t!”

  Again something shifted through his eyes, buried so deep in the blazing blue, but she saw it.

  “Oh, my God, you think I’m actually going to sue you, too!” The injustice of being so maligned when she’d taken the high road and not retaliated against them consumed her in red-hot rage. She folded her arms across her heaving bosom and turned away. “Leave my room at once.”

  “No. I’m not leaving until we figure this out. We both want those dresses back, right?”

  His strong authoritian tone instead of his usual light banter made it impossible not to respond. She glanced coolly back at him. “At last, you’ve said something true.”

  “I haven’t said anything. You’re the one putting words in my mouth. All I want is your promise to keep quiet about this and get your family and friends to do the same while you help me get the dresses back.” He gave her his signature charming smile, the one calculated to help him get his own way.

  She certainly wasn’t giving in to him, but the thought of careless, cruel hands destroying Bertha’s legacy to Chicago made her decide to consider his suggestion. “Do the police have any real suspects? Any clues? Those dresses need to be found before they’re harmed.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “They need to be found so no one else becomes infected by them.”

  His rebuke stung her. Embarrassment burned through the flimsy hospital gown. “That goes without saying. If the thieves don’t keep the dresses themselves, they’ll fence them to high-end collectors.”

  She felt sick thinking of others enduring a headache so pounding it could surely be compared to Zeus’s when, according to Greek mythology, her namesake sprang fully grown out of his skull.

  If exposed, would others react like I did? Shout their secret feelings to the world?

  Feelings about Drew she’d thought long dead and buried under time and maturity.

  Now she needed to push all her personal feelings aside for the greater good.

  And the greater good for the museum, for Chicago, came miraculously presented to her on the proverbial Clayworth, rimmed-in-real-gold-and-sterling-silver, platter.

  She pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “Since I’m the expert on the dresses and know most of the serious collectors, I can help find them. And when I do, I want them for the exhibit at the museum.”

  This time he lowered his lids so she couldn’t read his eyes. “Since Clayworth’s was founded, it has been our policy never to loan out certain family treasures. The dresses fall under that category.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  Their eyes met and clashed. “What’s your proposition, Athena?”

  Refusing to be cowed by Clayworth tradition, she lifted her chin. “I propose that we forget our personal feelings. Temporarily,” she amended. “We forget everything that might have transpired between us in this hospital because of conditions beyond our control. And we work together to find the dresses, and then, as a gesture of civic goodwill, you allow them to be displayed at the museum as an important piece of our Founding Families Exhibit.”

  At last a flicker of genuine emotion he didn’t try to hide, amusement of all things, lit his eyes.

  “You’ve got a deal, partner.”

  His words rang in her ears, making her feel dizzy again. Obviously her world still beat to a different drummer than usual, or she wouldn’t have just agreed to work shoulder to shoulder with the enemy.

  CHAPTER

  5

  The phone started ringing on the oak chest beside Athena’s four-poster bed, disturbing her beloved Drusilla Junior curled as usual along her right hip. Weak light filtered around the lace curtains at her bedroom window. Awake, but still groggy from “sleeping it off,” as Dr. Stemmer put it, she slowly fought through her pile of fluffy pillows to reach out and pick up the phone on the fourth ring.

  Drew? Her partner? The thought made her stomach growl.

  No, no, she knew who it would be. Since she’d won the battle with her sisters to stay alone in her own bed, in her little piece of peace, her restored Lincoln Park carriage house, she’d expected them to check up on her at dawn.

  “I love you for caring so much, but I’m just fine,” she said briskly into the phone.

  “Certainly I’m pleased to hear it. When you failed to attend our meeting on Friday afternoon after you insisted on scheduling it, all I could get out of Makayla was that you had gone to the ER with a headache.”

  The exasperated tone of Edna Keene, deputy director of the museum, sounded all too familiar. Athena sent a silent thanks to Makayla for keeping her secret as they had all sworn to do until further notice, even with Edna breathing down her neck.

  Consumed with worry over Bertha’s missing dresses, Athena had let her meeting with Edna simply vanish from memory. Now it came rushing back with all its importance.

  “Athena, are you still there?” Edna asked, a new irritation in her voice.

  A little edge of panic made Athena fling back the covers, drop down on the cool wood floor, and begin to pace. “Yes, I’m here, just a little groggy.” She needed to go eyeball to eyeball with Edna. Needed to convince her and the board to continue her dad’s efforts to establish a scholarship fund. They needed to give her the green light on the exhibit.

  She chose her words carefully. “I’m really sorry about the meeting. It was unavoidable. Could we please reschedule for Monday?”

  “I’m in the Red Carpet Room at O’Hare. My flight to Paris leaves in ninety minutes. It will have to wait until I return from the conference in two weeks.”

  Athena stood rooted to a spot in front of the small brick fireplace. “Another two weeks? You stopped my work on the exhibit weeks ago. There’s barely time now to complete the exhibit and plan the black tie opening.”

  Edna’s heavy sigh sent an icy chill from Athena’s curling toes to her scorching cheeks.

  “Athena, I told you, since your father resigned as a trustee, enthusiasm for expanding the Chicago Founding Families Exhibit and establishing a scholarship fund has waned on the board.”

  “And I told you I’d find the funding myself,” she snapped back, fighting off the beginnings of another dull headache. Oh, my God, did I sleep off all the truth serum?

  “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Edna said in a tight little voice. “You know these things take time.”

  Sick at the idea of letting Makayla down, Athena turned on her heels and paced the other way. “Edna, you know Makayla doesn’t have time. When she turns eighteen next month, she’ll be emancipated from the f
oster system. She needs our help now.”

  The dreaded sigh again. Deeper, louder this time. She knew if she could see Edna, she’d be puffing out her thin chest and blowing through tense lips.

  “Athena, your family is employing Makayla at your new emporium, which is generous of you. Do I need to remind you again that the museum is not a charity to help orphaned young ladies, no matter how gifted?”

  Makayla was talented. She’d beat out the competition on her own merit. Athena had tried to be impartial, but inwardly she’d been rooting for her. She didn’t know exactly why Makayla grabbed her around the heart, but she did, and Athena refused to fail her now.

  Anger burned away her need to be diplomatic. Or maybe truthfulness had residual effects.

  “Edna, my mother helped build the Costume Collection from nothing to the second best in this country,” she said through clenched teeth because she shivered from the cold and frustration. “The collection has enhanced the museum’s reputation enormously, which is probably why you’ve been asked to the conference in Paris. And let us not forget that my father, through his financial expertise, helped solidify the museum’s endowment. I believe my family has earned a few minutes of your time and consideration of my request.”

  Edna’s silence stabbed at Athena’s already bruised heart. No one had actually accused her father of embezzlement within her hearing, but she’d heard the gossip many times. Had felt it. Like she herself felt the dull ache of anger toward her dad. Why hadn’t he fought the Clayworths for his good name, or tried to explain, or even come up with an excuse? Anything would be better than his black hole of silence.

  At last Edna gave another of her classic exasperated sighs. “We will discuss this upon my return.”

  “Yes, we will. By then I’ll have the funding myself. Have a good flight.” She clicked off the phone and threw it on the bed.

  She would finish what her father had started. Nothing else mattered.

  Except for the not-so-small matter of her guilt.