A Stirring from Salem

by Sheri Anderson

  “I—have,” Charley answered.

  “Now you’ll have me and one of my best friends,” Abby said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Wow. Will this make me Belle’s sister-in-law, too?”

  Charley blanched. While Belle Black Brady had been revealed to be Charley’s biological sister, Charley still found it hard to think of her as family.

  “It’s all a bit confusing,” Charley said as she looked to her brother.

  “Can I tell her myself about this, or do you want to?” Abby asked.

  “What do you think’s best, Jackson?” Charley asked, trying to give him an out if he wanted one.

  “Whatever,” is all he could muster.

  “I guess this is congratulations, then?” Charley said, trying not to make it sound like a question.

  “Thanks, Sis,” he answered, trying not to make that sound like a question.

  “You’re welcome,” she sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to finish packing.”

  “Where are you going?” Abby asked.

  “I guess you and Jackson had other things to discuss, but I’m going to South Africa,” Charley told her.

  “I’m jealous,” Abby responded. “I lived down there for a while.”

  “You did?” Jackson responded.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Abby replied with a smile. “My grandfather has a medical clinic down there in a little town called Hoedspruit. In fact, my dad’s brother, Steve, is there, too. Where are you going? Cape Town?”

  Charley just stared at her blankly.

  Instead, Chance chimed in.

  “She didn’t ask.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Jackson asked, concerned.

  “This is a major photo shoot with the best in the business,” Charley answered. “What could go wrong?”

  Scarlett had an ego worse than supermodel Linda Evangelista, who was once quoted as saying, “We don’t get out of bed for less than ten thousand dollars a day.” And her temper was more volatile than Naomi Campbell’s. But with jobs few and far between lately, one would have expected she’d have learned to be more humble, more considerate. Unfortunately, she hadn’t.

  When she sauntered in nearly two hours late for her massage and facial, her attitude didn’t endear her to anyone.

  “I’m looking for the spa,” she said with a look of disdain. The hotel was known for its location and club, and the spa was smaller than she’d expected.

  “Take a seat while you wait, Miss O’Hara,” the petite blonde behind the counter said.

  Me, wait? Scarlett thought.

  A chunky American of about fifty was waiting for a body wrap and leaned over to Scarlett. “Some supermodel is getting an extra half hour,” the woman sighed. “As if she needed it.”

  Scarlett realized the woman didn’t recognize her, which was good. Sort of.

  “You should try the antiaging facial,” the woman continued. “Really hydrating.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Scarlett said as she sank into the lounge chair.

  Thanks a heap, she thought.

  The door to the facial room opened, and a stunning blonde exited.

  “That was really wonderful,” the blonde said with a lovely lilt in her voice.

  Even from where Scarlett was sitting, she could see that the girl’s lips were plump and her teeth as white as snow.

  Wonderful, Scarlett said to herself, mocking the beauty.

  Wait, Scarlett thought, does she have an accent?

  The girl turned to head to the lockers, and Scarlett could see she was more radiant than ever. “Scarlett O’Hara?” the girl asked, stopping in her tracks. “I’m Brigitta. We’re shooting together in South Africa.”

  Just friggin’ wonderful! Scarlett screamed in her head.

  “Great to meet you,” she lied.

  “You’re Scarlett O’Hara?” the tourist asked as her eyes lit up.

  Great, she knows me, Scarlett thought.

  “I used to be a big fan,” the woman added. “Could I have your autograph?”

  “I’ve never given autographs,” Scarlett sniped and strode into the massage room.

  The room fell totally silent except for the gently splashing Zen waterfall.

  Brigitta grimaced. “Well, this should be fun.”

  Kayla could see the purples, golds, and oranges of the South African sunset, especially dramatic after the summer thunderstorm, through the massive kitchen window in front of her as she cooked. She was preparing an early dinner for her and Steve. It wasn’t even six o’clock, but as parents of a two-and-a-half-year-old, they had schedules that had changed drastically since their early days together.

  Kayla’s parents owned The Brady Pub, one of the most popular gathering spots in Salem, and she’d learned to cook at her mother’s knee. Her family was the salt of the earth, and as with so many others, they had their holiday traditions. Even on the other side of the world, those traditions were sacrosanct. New Year’s Day for the Bradys meant corned beef and cabbage with boiled potatoes.

  “Smells amazing, Sweetness,” Steve said as he entered, returning from his meeting with Bill.

  “I should have had you invite Bill,” she realized. “There’s enough for an army here.”

  “Leftovers for days,” Steve said as he picked a piece of the succulent beef from the plate.

  “And it’ll bring us the good luck it’s meant to bring,” Kayla said, smiling.

  “Let’s hope so,” Steve answered. With what he’d just learned from Bill, he suspected they were going to need it.

  “That sounded ominous,” she said. She retrieved two intricately hand-painted African ceramic dinner plates and a child’s plate for Joe, all of which had been given to them by one of the many grateful villages.

  “As beautiful as everything is in our little cocoon here,” Steve said, indicating their home, “we can’t deny South Africa’s got problems.”

  Okay, he said to himself, that certainly isn’t a lie.

  “Which is why we’re here,” Kayla answered, interrupting his thought. She knew every inflection of Steve’s voice, and her antennae went up. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

  Steve’s gaze met hers. He had promised Bill he wouldn’t worry Kayla. And if the years had proven anything, it was that Steve was a man of his word.

  Besides, this wouldn’t be forever.

  Fortunately for both of them, the moment was interrupted as Joe came bounding out of his room.

  “Dinner!”

  “And hello to you, Bud,” Steve said with a bit of relief as the towhead ran to the table.

  “Hi, Pop.” Joe beamed as he climbed into the booster seat on one of the chairs.

  “Man hugs?” Steve asked his son, who was the latest joy in his life.

  Joe extended his chubby arms to his father for a big hug. “I love you.”

  “Me, too…and?”

  Joe gave his dad a high five with his left hand, a high five with his right, and then clapped three times and saluted. Steve responded in kind.

  Kayla couldn’t help but smile. This was family. Her family. Her men. They were away from the day-to-day world their friends knew and were bonding in a way most would not understand.

  “Corned beef and cabbage?” Kayla asked Joe, knowing he was not fond of most vegetables.

  “Potatoes!” Joe beamed.

  “Okay, for today, just potatoes,” Kayla agreed.

  Steve popped open two bottles of beer and poured them into glasses as Kayla filled their plates.

  “And everything’s good with Bill?” she asked nonchalantly.

  “He apologized,” Steve said honestly.

  “And butter!” Joe chimed in as he looked as his plate.

  Kayla studied her husband. She knew him
well after all these years, and if he had something he felt he needed to tell her, she knew he would do so eventually.

  “Butter!” was Kayla’s answer.

  She loaded up Joe’s potatoes with the DairyBelle butter Joe loved and watched him dig in.

  “To the New Year,” Kayla said as she raised her tall glass to her husband.

  “To the New Year,” Steve answered.

  As they clinked glasses, both knew something was not being said. But both also knew this was not the time to discuss it.

  “You sure you have everything?” Abby asked.

  Charley was now dressed in a pair of white cotton OMG drawstring pants, a soft-as-velvet cream-colored tee, and white leather slip-ons with an ivory cashmere pashmina draped over her shoulders.

  “If I don’t, I’m screwed,” Charley laughed. “The game farms are not the place to fill in your wardrobe.”

  The upbeat atmosphere in Jackson’s flat was palpable. It had been a while since the Gaines siblings had had such a diversion. Both Jackson and Chance had been stunned when the world branded them as pariahs. There had been a time when the Donald Trumps of the world could go bankrupt twice and still reign supreme. The celebrity cache meant something. But the times they were a-changin’. There were now so many unemployed financial gurus and attorneys who had tanked in the global recession that the job market was flooded with more than capable and less than astronomically expensive talent.

  The Gaines brothers were hanging on by the proverbial thread.

  “Are you bringing your Hasselblad?” Chance asked.

  “I am a very lowly assistant on this shoot, and all I’m looking for is a credit,” Charley reminded her savvy brother. “I’m bringing lightweight summer clothes, mosquito repellent, malaria tablets, and a positive attitude.”

  “It’s why we love you,” Jackson added.

  The buzzer rang from downstairs, and Jackson answered.

  “The car is here for Ms. Gaines,” the disembodied voice told him.

  “Oh, Lord, wish me luck,” Charley gasped.

  She slipped out of her loafers, tipped her toes into white OMG sheepskin-lined boots, and then shrugged into a camel, triple-ply, cashmere, hooded floor-length coat. It would be nearly one hundred degrees in South Africa, but it was still nearly freezing in London.

  ***

  Charley was accustomed to being around international celebrities from Brad Pitt to Prince William and was never rattled. But sitting this close to Vince Castle? They were barely into the Knightsbridge traffic when her hands started to shake.

  “You okay?” He smiled.

  “Just—cold,” she lied.

  “Tomorrow afternoon you may be wishing you were.” He smiled again.

  “I hear it’s spectacular down there. It’s the one place my mother was dying to go…before she died.” Charley looked away as the reality washed over her. “Sorry, this happens to me from time to time.”

  “My mother died when I was ten,” Vince told her. “I get it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Charley said.

  “Time’s a pretty good healer,” Vince said warmly as he put his hand on hers in a gentle, comforting manner. “Keeping busy helps, too.”

  “I guess that’s one reason I jumped at this job,” she admitted.

  “And I thought it was my charming smile that seduced you.”

  You do have a charming smile, she thought.

  “But don’t let it fool you,” he added. “Once we’re on the clock, I’ll make the most savage lions around us look like kittens.”

  “I get that,” she nodded.

  “Your job, should you wish to accept it, and you already did, is to anticipate my every move.”

  Is that his hand on mine? she realized. But before she could react, he pulled it away.

  “I really do get it,” she said with a smile. “From making sure your alarm is set to your phone being charged to the position of your bounce light, should you need it.”

  “Nice,” he said, smiling. “I knew you were the right girl for the job.”

  “About the job,” she asked cautiously. “I have absolutely no details about it. But you know that, I guess.”

  Vince reached into a Louis Vuitton duffel at his feet and pulled out a two-inch-thick binder labeled “The Look.”

  Charley started to open it, but he stopped her.

  “You’ll have plenty of time on the plane to go over the details,” he reminded her. “Eleven hours to Johannesburg.”

  “If anyone understands budgets and scheduling, I do,” Charley assured him. After all, she had been at her mother’s side at every OMG fashion shoot since she was a toddler.

  She slipped the binder into the oversized OMG lambskin handbag that held all of her essentials, next to a book wrapped with a simple ribbon. Vince noticed the book.

  “Not sure you’ll have time for heavy reading material,” he said, smiling.

  “It was a Christmas gift,” Charley offered and then hesitated. “Long story.”

  The moment was broken as the driver hit the brakes to avoid running into an unruly pair of tourists who had stumbled into the street. The tires screeched as Vince’s arm immediately blocked Charley from being thrown forward into the back of the front seat.

  “Thanks,” Charley gasped.

  “We’ve got precious cargo here, mate,” Vince called to the driver. “Let’s get there in one piece.”

  Lion, kitten, or viper? Charley wondered, as she glanced at the man who could change her career in a heartbeat.

  Then she caught herself. Viper? Where did that image come from? Why would I think that?

  Marlena sat at the desk in the master bedroom and hung up her iPhone. She’d spent three glorious hours speaking to her children, who were scattered around the world. Being in Lausanne, Switzerland, Marlena was anywhere from two hours to seven hours ahead of them, and the time difference could be a bit disconcerting. She wished she could talk to her friends in Salem, too, but it was late, late night in the United States, so she would have to wait until late afternoon to connect with anyone.

  She sat back and looked around the empty room. John had been predictably absent since his offer to surprise her with an adventure. Knowing John, that could mean anything from a romantic dinner in the vineyards to an impromptu visit to the devastatingly beautiful Greek island of Santorini. If being confined to bed for nearly two years had done anything for her husband, it had been to ignite his already white-hot passion for the unpredictable.

  Then, as she cradled her chin in her hands, she noticed something that didn’t please her.

  “Is that for us?” she asked.

  It was a helicopter. And it was headed straight for Maison du Noir.

  “Don’t be pissed at me, Doc,” she heard from the ceiling-high doorway behind her.

  She turned and there was John, dressed and ready to go.

  “A helicopter from door to ski lift?” she asked with an arched look.

  Her voice was drowned out as the A-Star B2 chopper whirred past the enormous window and landed on an open pad next to the vineyard.

  “Would I do that to you?” John grinned.

  It was the same sexy, funny, Cheshire cat grin that he knew melted her the minute he used it.

  “As long as you’re happy,” she answered. And the truth was that she meant it. John had been through such torture in his life that the least she could do was let him enjoy this freedom.

  “Just let me pack,” she said, smiling. “I assume you have the ski gear arranged.”

  “The chopper’s packed with everything we need,” he dodged. “Top to tail.”

  “Let me get my makeup and—”

  He cut her off. “I said everything, and I meant everything. No need to get anything but your beautiful butt out the door.”

  “The new t
oothpaste…?”

  John rolled his eyes.

  “My eye mask…”

  John took her hand and guided her out of the room.

  “Sunscreen! The glare on my skin from the snow is—”

  “Am I going to have to cover you with kisses to get you to ferme that bouche?” he laughed.

  “Would that be so bad…” She giggled coyly.

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that on the plane,” he answered. “Now move it, Sister!”

  “Yes, sir!” Marlena smiled as she finally got into the spirit of things.

  Wait a minute, did he say “plane”? she asked herself as they headed down the winding staircase.

  ***

  The flight in the state-of-the-art helicopter was as smooth as the whipped cream on the Irish Coffees John and Marlena sipped as they flew over Lake Geneva.

  Marlena couldn’t resist dipping her finger into the white froth, dabbing it on the tip of John’s nose, and then kissing it off.

  John returned the gesture in kind.

  Though being passionate was a bit awkward while wearing the headphones required in the helicopter, they were in sync and connected perfectly. This trip was starting off well for both of them.

  “I think this is my favorite time of the day,” Marlena sighed as she looked out the window.

  The sun was just setting, creating streaks of vibrant coral and peach across the deep blue of the winter sky. The vistas in front of them were dazzling. “I love seeing the lights flickering on as families are settling in for the evening,” she continued.

  “We’ll be seeing that all the way to the Geneva airport,” John offered pointedly.

  “You did say ‘plane,’ didn’t you,” she confirmed as she looked him square in the eye.

  “When?” He shrugged as though he had no idea what she meant.

  “Where are we skiing?” Marlena asked.

  “We’ll be landing in five minutes,” the pilot interrupted through their headsets.

  “Does it really matter as long as we’re together?” John answered.

  Marlena was getting more curious by the second.

  The helicopter set down at the private jet terminal of the Geneva airport, next to a Gulfstream V superjet.