by Folsom, Tina
When the taxi dropped him off in front of his parents’ home, Daniel knew immediately that Sabrina wasn’t here: his car wasn’t parked in the driveway. Had she gone for a drive somewhere to cool off? Or worse, had she already been here, packed her things and left?
He tossed the taxi driver way too much money and jumped out of the cab, then ran to the entrance door, jammed his key in the lock and unlocked it.
Inside the foyer, he called, “Sabrina!” But in his gut, he knew she was gone. She’d taken off. He charged upstairs, but found the bedroom they’d shared empty. However, Sabrina’s things were still strewn about.
He pulled out his cell and dialed her number, pacing in the room while it rang. After the fourth ring it went to her voicemail. He’d expected that she wouldn’t pick up.
“Please, Sabrina, come back. We need to talk,” he said, before disconnecting the call.
Daniel made his way downstairs again, this time heading for the kitchen, from where he heard voices. When he entered, he was relieved to see that only Holly and his mother were in the room. He wouldn’t have been able to face Sabrina’s mother right now.
“Have you seen Sabrina?” he asked without a greeting.
His mother turned halfway while she continued to mix dough in a large bowl. “I thought you took her out for brunch.”
He raked a shaky hand through his hair. “I did. But she left.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be back soon then,” his mother said lightly and walked to the larder to pull out a bag of flour. “I think I got my measurements all mixed up today,” she added with a sideways glance to Holly.
“That’s just it: I don’t think she’ll come back.”
Holly turned to him first, her eyes widening. Then his mother turned too and gave him her full attention.
“What do you mean, she’s not coming back?” Holly asked, drawing out the words.
Daniel closed his eyes for a moment. “She gave me back her engagement ring.” He drew in a ragged breath. “She called off the wedding.”
The moment he said it, he knew it was true. Sabrina wasn’t a woman to make empty threats in order to get attention.
Both Holly and his mother gasped.
“Oh my god! No!” His mother shook her head as if she could make the news go away like that. “That can’t be. What happened? What did you do?”
“But she loves you,” Holly professed.
“That’s just it. She left me because she loves me. She doesn’t want to ruin my life because of this scandal.”
“Is this because of her father running out like that?” His mother motioned to the breakfast table as if he were still sitting there.
“Partially. I think it’s everything: the way people in the village have been treating her, her father calling her terrible things, and then when we were at the country club . . . ” He hesitated.
“What happened?” Holly pressed.
“One of my business associates stopped by to tell me that he’s pulling out of a business deal because of what the New York Times printed. I think it was the last straw for her.”
“You can’t let her just leave!” his mother said, wiping her hands on her apron. “You have to get her back. Didn’t you tell her that none of this matters? You can’t possibly put your business before her.”
“Of course not!” he ground out, for the first time glaring at his mother. “I told her I don’t care about the business deal. But she wouldn’t listen. She’s convinced that she’ll ruin my life if she marries me.”
“Then you have to convince her otherwise!” his mother demanded.
He nodded grimly. Then he looked at Holly. “There’s one thing I have to know. And you’re the only one who can tell me, Holly.”
Holly lifted her eyebrows.
“Is Sabrina pregnant?”
For a second not a sound could be heard in the kitchen. His mother was holding her breath, and Holly seemed to contemplate her answer.
“Holly!” he urged her. “Jay saw you and Sabrina at the OBGYN’s office the other day.”
Holly blinked. “The doctor confirmed it. She’s seven weeks pregnant.”
His heart started to hammer and seemed to overshadow even his mother’s loud gasp. “Does she want my baby?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course she wants your baby!”
“Why didn’t she tell me then?”
“She wanted to tell you on your wedding night.”
Though the way things stood now, there wouldn’t be a wedding night. “I have to find her. Now.”
“Wait!” Holly stopped him.
Daniel stared at her, wondering what else there was to say.
“You won’t be able to change her mind. Nothing has changed. The situation is still the same: the scandal is causing your business to suffer. Sabrina won’t simply take your word for it that you don’t care about that. You’ve already tried that. You have to get the story retracted before Sabrina will talk to you.”
“Damn it, Holly, we already tried that. Neither talking to the newspaper reporter nor threatening Audrey has helped. I called my attorney and he’s already preparing everything to sue the newspaper, but a lawsuit is a drawn-out process. They won’t retract the story in the next few days. I’ve tried everything.”
“Not everything,” Holly said. “I wanted to tell you before you left for brunch. I have news.”
“What news?”
“I’ll show you on my computer.” She motioned him to follow her out of the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” his mother called after them.
Holly turned briefly. “Trust us, we’ll get Sabrina back, but the fewer people know about this the better.”
Daniel followed her up to her room, his pulse racing all the while. He could only hope that whatever Holly had wasn’t just news, but good news.
Holly walked to her computer and booted it up. “Remember that we talked about trying to convince the paper that it was all a case of mistaken identity?”
“Yes, but we already ruled it out because it would expose you.”
“Oh, I’m not talking about myself.” She navigated to a website, then clicked on a link and scrolled farther down until a picture appeared on the screen.
A photo of Sabrina with a slightly different hairstyle greeted him. It had to have been taken before he’d met her, since her hair was longer and wavier in the picture.
He raised an eyebrow. “How is an old photo of Sabrina good news? And what is it doing on a website?”
Holly grinned. “Guess she just passed the test.”
“What test?” Daniel’s forehead furrowed.
“If you can’t tell that this isn’t Sabrina, then nobody else can either.”
He pointed to the picture, looking at it more closely now. “This is not Sabrina?”
“No.”
Daniel blew out a breath. He suddenly knew exactly what Holly was trying to do. “Oh my god!” He hugged her, lifting her off her feet and making a full circle before he set her down again.
“Okay, okay. We’re not out of the woods yet. We’ve got work to do. I’ve found out that she lives in Colorado. There’s a phone number and an email address.”
“How can I help?” he asked eagerly.
“We need to hire her to come to New York, go to the newspaper office and tell them she’s the escort the columnist’s source is referring to. The columnist will look at her, then at Sabrina’s picture and realize she’s practically her twin. We’ll have to pay her of course.”
“I don’t care what it costs.”
“Do you know anybody who’s got a jet to fly her from Colorado to New York? I’m afraid if we book her on a commercial airline, we’ll be losing time.”
Daniel nodded instantly. “I’ll talk to Zach. His company has a couple of jets. Maybe one of them is out west. If not, he’ll know somebody else whom we can borrow a plane from.”
Holly made a note on a small notepad next to her computer. “Good.” She tapp
ed with her pen on the paper, clearly contemplating something. “That leaves us with only one problem.”
“What problem? It looks clear to me.” He pointed to the screen where the picture of the woman who looked like Sabrina still stared at him. “This woman will show the reporter her ID and prove that she’s not Sabrina. The reporter will realize that it was a case of mistaken identity and issue an apology.”
“Yes, but there’s still one loose end: your credit card statement. Audrey gave a copy of your credit card statement to the reporter. It shows the charge to the escort agency. How will you explain that?”
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t thought about that, too ecstatic that Holly had found a woman who looked like the spitting image of Sabrina. “Crap!”
“Yes. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I found this photo. But I can’t figure out how we can discredit the credit card statement. If we don’t, then the reporter will think you hired an escort who looked like Sabrina. And I don’t think she’ll buy the whole story as long as there’s a shred of evidence that you did hire an escort. If only that copy of the credit card statement didn’t exist.”
Yes, if only Frances hadn’t given Audrey access to his confidential financial records! For that indiscretion Frances had deserved being fired. And she’d never get a decent reference out of him.
“That’s it!” He’d just figured it out.
“What?” Holly stared at him with wide eyes.
“The credit card statement. Audrey only got a copy of it. If we can prove that the copy is a fake and that Audrey added in the charge to an escort agency to make it look like I hired Sabrina as an escort, then her whole story falls apart.”
“True. But how are you gonna do that? If I may remind you: the charge is real. My agency did charge your credit card. Besides, if you suddenly produce a different copy, they’ll think your copy is doctored, not hers.”
For the first time since Sabrina had broken off their engagement, Daniel grinned. “I’m not gonna be the one who comes forward with a new copy. Frances is going to do that.”
“Your assistant? I thought you fired her.”
“And that’s exactly why she’ll do it: she needs a reference from me more than she needs anything else.”
Holly chuckled. “You’re positively evil.” She winked at him. “I like it.” Then she paused. “And how are you gonna make this copy look more real than the one Audrey gave to the reporter?”
“I’m gonna have Frances hand over the original.”
“But the original contains the credit card charge.”
Daniel put a hand on Holly’s shoulder. “Did I ever tell you the story of how, when back in college, Wade would have nearly flunked out of statistics?”
Holly looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Huh?”
“Well, let’s just say his skills in graphic arts and Photoshop more than make up for it. In fact, it’s a little hobby of his.”
Holly’s jaw dropped. “Are you telling me Wade is going to forge your credit card statement?”
Daniel smiled. “Let’s get to work. You contact the girl. I’ll talk to Zach, Wade, and Frances.” He looked at his watch. “We’re not gonna make the deadline for tomorrow’s edition of the New York Times, but if we can fly this woman out to New York by tonight and Wade can get the credit card statement to Frances by courier first thing in the morning, the article will be retracted the day after.”
And then he’d get Sabrina back.
24
Everything had happened like clockwork: Holly had convinced Sabrina’s Doppelganger to come to New York and tell Claire Heart that she was the real escort, not Sabrina. The money Daniel had promised her had sealed the deal. Zach had been able to organize a private jet from a friend in Las Vegas who’d picked up Sabrina’s Doppelganger in Denver and flown her to New York LaGuardia airport. Then a limousine hired by Zach’s company had chauffeured her to the newspaper’s offices.
Wade had worked all afternoon and night on reproducing the credit card statement which Daniel had been able to access online. In the early hours of the morning, Wade had presented Daniel with two sheets of paper that looked so real Daniel couldn’t tell that they were forged. Instead of hiring a courier, Wade had taken it upon himself to drive the document to Frances’ apartment in Brooklyn and delivered it into her hands.
In the meantime, Daniel had called Harvey, the doorman of his condo building and found out that Sabrina had indeed returned to New York. He’d asked him to let him know if he thought she was leaving. Under a pretext, Harvey had gone up to the apartment and noticed that Sabrina was packing boxes. But even Daniel knew that she wouldn’t be able to hire movers in a day or two.
Nevertheless, he was antsy by the time the second evening without Sabrina rolled around. He was pacing on the back porch, staring at the tent that was ready for the wedding, when his cell phone rang.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Sinclair, this is Claire Heart.”
He silently pumped his fist in the air, but kept the excitement out of his voice. He couldn’t let the reporter know that he knew what had been happening in her office today.
“Yes, Miss Heart? What other untruths are you planning on publishing about me and my fiancée next?”
“Uhm, Mr. Sinclair. I’m . . . I’m really sorry. I was trying to reach you earlier, but couldn’t get through. There have been some developments. I’m not going to bore you with the details. But we’ve established that there’s been a case of mistaken identity. We are very sorry for the grief we’ve caused you and your fiancée. In tomorrow’s print edition you’ll find a retraction of the article and an apology by the paper and myself, of course. And the online edition will go live with the story just after midnight.”
“Well . . . ”
“It has all been a terrible mistake. But as you can probably appreciate, sometimes the evidence that is presented to us looks very convincing.”
“I understand, Miss Heart. Thank you for calling.”
He disconnected the call and jumped into the air. “Yes!”
It had worked. Claire Heart and her editor and legal department had swallowed the story he and Holly had fabricated hook, line, and sinker.
Tomorrow, all of New York and the Hamptons would find out that Sabrina wasn’t a call girl. Everything would go back to normal. But he couldn’t wait till tomorrow. Hadn’t the reporter said that the online edition would post the story shortly past midnight?
So what was he still doing here in Montauk? He should be on his way to his condo in Manhattan. Daniel glanced at his watch. If he left now, he’d arrive there just after midnight.
Minutes later, he was sitting in his father’s car, speeding into the night, heading for New York.
***
Even though she was tired from packing, Sabrina couldn’t sleep, so she didn’t even try. Instead, she sat in the living room. Only a small lamp burned in one corner. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan sparkled like a thousand raindrops cascading over a mirror. It wasn’t raining though; it was Sabrina’s tears causing the skyline of Manhattan to appear blurred.
“It’s for the best,” she murmured to herself. “It’s for you.” She laid her hand over her stomach. She had to remain strong for her child. She didn’t want it to be born into a community that shunned her parents. She’d rather disappear to somewhere where nobody knew her and raise the child on her own.
A sob tore from her chest. If only she were stronger and wouldn’t miss Daniel so much. Another sob followed. More of them ripped from her chest and just wouldn’t stop. She reached for a tissue and blew her nose.
“Don’t cry.”
Sabrina shrieked and whirled around, jumping up instantly. She hadn’t heard the apartment door over her sobs.
Even in the relative dark of the room, she recognized him immediately. “Daniel,” she managed to say.
Then he reached her and pulled her against his chest. She wanted to protest, but she was too wea
k.
“I’m here now,” he murmured into her hair.
“It won’t change anything.” She pushed against him and eased away. He let it happen, and she was disappointed that he did.
His hands moved and suddenly another light source illuminated his face as he stared down at an iPad. He handed it to her. “Read this.”
“What is this?”
“Just read it,” he demanded. “Please.”
Compelled by the tenderness in his eyes, she looked down at the screen. The first thing she saw was a photo of herself, though on closer inspection she knew it couldn’t be she: the hair style was completely wrong, and the top the woman wore didn’t belong to Sabrina either.
Her eyes dropped to the line below the picture. Ms. Sharon Helmer it said.
Then she read the headline: Correction.
Below it only a few lines were written.
On the 18th of this month, this paper published a story about Mr. Daniel Sinclair and Miss Sabrina Palmer. The information presented to the Times as the basis of this story has proven to be false. In fact, a Miss Sharon Helmer, pictured, has been mistaken for Miss Palmer. Miss Palmer is in no way connected to any escort service and there is no evidence that Mr. Sinclair, her fiancé, has ever used the services of an escort agency. We would like to extend our deepest apologies and sincerest regrets to Mr. Daniel Sinclair and Miss Sabrina Palmer and their families.
Sabrina lifted her head.
“You did it,” she whispered. “You got them to retract the story. How?”
“I had some help,” he said with a smile.
“But . . . this other woman. Who is she?”
“A model and escort. Holly found her and—”
Sabrina threw herself into his arms, cutting off his next words. “Thank you!”
She felt his warm lips on hers, lips she’d missed and craved for the last two days. His arms wrapped around her, holding her so tightly to him that she felt physically how much he’d missed her too.
His mouth devoured hers, his tongue stroking forcefully against hers, delving deep, reacquainting himself with her, while she was doing the same. It had been too long to be away from him. Right at that moment she realized that she would have never been able to leave him for good.
