by Wendy Wax
“Sorry, champ.” Daniel appeared in their trailer after Dustin was released. “You did great today. That . . . that was all on me.” He scrubbed at his face with one hand as if he might erase his morning’s obstinate indecision. “So, I forgot to ask where you went over the weekend. Joan said you had a visitor?”
“We went to Disney World with Troy!” Dustin said happily. “He tooked us there. And we spent the whole night and almost two days.”
Daniel’s eyes fixed on her. They narrowed.
“Is there some reason why we shouldn’t go to Disney with a friend?” she asked, watching his dark eyes cloud with a combination of anger and jealousy.
“I don’t know. You tell me.” His voice had turned oddly seductive and she knew if Dustin hadn’t been there he would have been reaching for her, wanting, maybe even needing, to know that she was still his. She told herself to step away. But there was something about him wanting her, even if it was because another man did, that kept her rooted to the spot. “He pretended to be someone he’s not.”
“Some people pretend they’re going to leave their wives. And are so good at pretending that they do it for a living,” she’d jabbed back, finally taking that step away, at least temporarily, and wondering as she put space between them whether he’d needed to prove he could have her whenever he wanted her. Or was still that drawn to her.
As it turned out she’d spent a good part of the evening trying to figure it out. And the rest of the evening not watching the phone or wondering why Troy hadn’t called.
Now it was Wednesday and it seemed the Disney effect was completely out of juice. In the food tent, she stopped short at the sight of the Deranian-Kay family eating breakfast. Daniel sat at one end of the table, Tonja at the other, and their four children sat two to a side between them. It would have made a great photo op, just as all those shots of Dustin had, but there was not a photographer or entertainment reporter in sight. The children’s nannies were not in evidence. This show, if it was one, was for her and her son and the crew. What she didn’t know was who had organized it.
“How come we don’t get to eat with them?” Dustin asked, staring at Daniel Junior, who was seated next to his father.
Kyra caught the look of triumph Daniel Junior aimed at them. Heard Tonja’s tinkle of laughter. It was a masterful scene. Affirmation of the family unit, the connection Daniel and Tonja shared in one living tableau.
“I wanna eat with Dandiel, too!” Dustin cried.
The food tent fell silent. All eyes, including the Deranian-Kays’, turned on them.
Dustin tugged hard on her hand and attempted to pull her forward. “Oh, no,” she said to Dustin. “You need to calm down right now and stop this behavior.”
“I wanna go there!” He stomped his foot. Dropping her hand, he folded his small arms across his chest.
It was Tonja who stood and began to walk toward them, moving like a queen.
Kyra would have given anything to disappear, wished desperately that they’d been delivered to set fifteen minutes later, or simply had a bite in the trailer. But this was not the Magic Kingdom. Or at least it wasn’t theirs.
“Good morning,” she said, leaning down to address Dustin. “Won’t you come join us for breakfast?”
“Do you do this every morning?” The words were out before Kyra could stop them. They’d been here for close to three weeks and this was the first time she’d seen the Deranian-Kay children since the barbecue. Somehow she’d managed to put them, or perhaps she’d shoved them, out of her mind.
“Every morning that we can,” Tonja said. “Daniel and I are usually still wrapped up here past dinnertime, but I think it’s important to share a family meal every day. At least whenever it’s possible. We’re usually done earlier than this.”
Kyra met Tonja’s eyes. They were tired, but she saw no animosity in them. No guile. It was like seeing Darth Vader minus the actors who filled the black suit and James Earl Jones’s booming voice. “Thanks, but I don’t think Dustin’s behavior should be rewarded. We’re going to have breakfast in the trailer.”
“No! I wanna eat there!” Dustin pointed again at the table where his father still sat. His arm and hand shook with rage.
“I asked your father to stay where he was so that I could invite you myself,” Tonja said to Dustin when he stopped shrieking to take a breath. “But I think your mother’s right. Next time we’ll make sure to save you a place.”
Dustin shrieked again and threw himself on the ground. Kyra’s heart ached for him. She wanted to pick him up and hold him close and whisper her love. Wanted to tell him that everything would be all right. But the tantrum needed to stop and he needed to learn that this was not the way to get what he wanted. She drew a deep breath and prepared to reach into the mass of wailing, flailing angst to pull him to his feet.
Tonja put a hand on Kyra’s arm, and for the first time Kyra didn’t shrink away. “I’m sorry. I know what this business and all the attention and special treatment that goes with it can do. We deal with it all the time. Sometimes we’re more successful than others.”
Kyra watched Tonja glide regally back to the family table. She would have given a lot for a pair of ruby slippers that could spirit them away. Or a magic wand that could erase what had just taken place from the cast and crew’s collective memory. She glanced once more at the table, but Daniel had turned back to his plate. Then she leaned over, wrangled her son into her arms as gently as she could, and carried him, still sobbing, to the trailer.
Twenty-five
Nikki waited until Joe left for work before eating the quarter of a Kind apple, cinnamon, and pecan bar that she’d set aside for breakfast, taking her time to be sure to enjoy the sixty sweet, but not too sweet, calories that would see her through the morning.
It was harder to eat so little with Joe around. In fact, although he’d complimented her on the weight she’d lost, he’d spent a lot of the past week trying to tempt her into eating more and had practically followed her around with water in his attempts to get her to hydrate. On the bright side, his mere presence inspired willpower. And the regular sex had to be burning off quite a few calories. A definite win-win.
When she’d licked both fingers and the inside of the wrapper, she dressed the girls and tidied the cottage, trying to marshal her thoughts. Luvie would be here soon, and Nikki didn’t intend to set a foot outside until she’d cut back on the nanny’s hours.
She was sitting on the couch, which served as a home base of sorts while the twins used every stationary surface and many that were not as they lunged from place to place with their arms out, their chubby legs churning each time they managed to pull themselves up and balance for takeoff.
At precisely nine A.M. there was a crisp knock on the door—now that Joe was back Luvie waited to be invited in—that sent them both windmilling drunkenly toward it.
“Come in!”
The key turned in the lock and Luvie’s head poked inside. The twins squealed their happiness.
“There my lovelies are!” she exclaimed, stepping in. The twins’ last lunge propelled them to her, where they clung as if to a life raft in turbulent seas. “Good morning, Mrs. Giraldi. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? With these two here in my arms I can’t think of a single thing that would make it better.”
Great. Nikki smiled, but it felt as if a warning shot had been fired across her bow.
“In fact, there aren’t enough hours in the day when I’m caring for them.” She looked around. Took in the straightened living area, the girls’ breakfast dishes already sitting in the drainer. “I’ll just go tidy their bedroom, shall I?”
“Oh, I’ve . . .”
Luvie returned, disappointment written on her face. “Someone’s already picked it up.”
“Yes,” Nikki said, determined not to be deterred.
“I’ll run some laundry then. Maybe put
on fresh sheets. Afterward I thought I might take the girls to the beach to play.”
“The cottage is done, Luvie. Everything’s clean.” If you didn’t look too closely. And if drool and spit-up didn’t count. She patted the space next to her on the couch. “Come sit down. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk about.”
Luvie came, but she moved slowly, taking in her surroundings as if she might never see them again. She sat carefully, her pocketbook in her lap, her back not touching the sofa cushion. Sofia and Gemma lurched after her.
“It’s a small place and I don’t have a lot else to do. And this isn’t a particularly booming metropolis. Killing time is difficult.”
The girls pulled themselves up to their feet using their beloved’s knees. Luvie brightened. “Ahhh, but you could volunteer . . . fund-raise for charity. Go to tea.” The girls cooed up at her. “That’s what all my previous employers have done.” Luvie brushed back the girls’ hair from their adoring faces. “I don’t suppose there’s much call for foxhunting here. But you could . . .”
“The girls are, and should be, my number one priority and I want to spend time with them. I mean, I’m not as good at it as you. Or Joe. But I did give birth to them, and I think they have to put up with me no matter how inept I might be, right?”
Luvie nodded, swallowed. She met Nikki’s eyes. Hers shimmered with tears. “So I’m to be sacked then?”
Nikki opened her mouth. All she had to do now was say yes. Then she could offer praise, add an apology, and offer a bonus of some kind. Not quite as neat or thorough as the BCSM, but the deed would be done. She would have taken the beachhead without firing a shot.
Then the first tears fell. Luvie opened her pocketbook and retrieved a beautifully embroidered handkerchief, the sort every grandmother had once carried. Luvie’s hand shook, just as her voice had, as she used it to dab at her eyes. The girls reached up to pat their Luvie’s cheeks then laid their heads on her knees in consolation and support. All three of them were now crying.
“I . . . I just don’t need so much help,” Nikki stammered helplessly, wondering what kind of monster made a sweet old woman and her own babies cry. Frantically, she tried to remember the steps of the BCSM, but the tears and all the eye dabbing made it difficult to focus. The girls’ sobs turned to wails and she could barely think at all.
“I . . . I . . . what if we cut back to three afternoons a week and Saturday nights?”
The crying continued.
“And . . . maybe an extra weeknight when Joe’s home?” She could hear the desperation in her voice and knew she’d lost any bargaining power she might have possessed.
Luvie’s head rose. She sniffed and dabbed at her face with the handkerchief. The tears stopped. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t work,” the nanny said quite calmly. “I am . . . I must work for my living. I would hate to have to give up this position. I love the girls, and I think they’ve become quite attached to me as well.”
They were attached all right. In fact, they were now clinging desperately to Luvie. For a moment Nikki imagined having to pry their fingers off of the nanny. Then she would stand and point to the door and Luvie would trudge out into the snow, weeping wildly and . . .
In fact, Luvie had recovered more quickly than her employer. She dabbed her eyes one last time then sat quietly, her hands stroking the twins’ heads until the sobbing stopped, watching Nikki’s face. Assessing her. Both of them knew she wasn’t going to throw the nanny out of the house and tell her never to darken their door again. Even if she’d truly wanted to, she couldn’t simply fire her. First of all, that would make her the villain in the piece. Second of all, Joe had been understanding about her wanting to cut back Luvie’s hours, but if he knew that she had let her go and had no help at all? No, that was not an option. But neither could Nikki leave things as they were. Somehow she needed to prove, at least to herself, that she had what it took to mother her children. Without professional assistance.
“Okay then.” Nikki stood. “I’m going to go out for a while. We’ll leave things as they stand today and tomorrow. But the girls and I will be going out of town on Monday.” She wasn’t sure where the lie came from, but she was committed now. There would be no backing off.
“I beg your pardon?” Surprise suffused Luvie’s face. “I thought it was Mr. Giraldi who was leaving on Monday.”
“Yes, he’s leaving on assignment. But I’m. We . . . that is, the girls and I are leaving at the same time—or, rather, an hour later.” Lying to Luvie felt kind of like telling tall tales to Bambi. But Nikki wanted time alone with her daughters and the woman had left her no choice.
“But where are you going?” Luvie asked as the girls wriggled up onto the couch on either side of her.
This, of course, was a good question. “I’m . . .” She hesitated, her brain lurching through possibilities with the same kind of stuttering steps the girls employed. “I’m taking Sofia and Gemma to visit Joe’s family.”
The twins looked up expectantly at the sound of their names. Nikki hoped like hell they hadn’t followed the rest of the sentence.
“Of course, you’ll be paid for the time you would have been here while we’re gone.”
“Oh, thank you.” Luvie looked almost as surprised as Nikki felt.
“You’re, um, welcome. But . . .” She cleared her throat as the next hole in her explanation hit her. “But, please don’t mention this to Joe.” She bit back a groan, already anticipating the nanny’s next question.
“Mr. Giraldi doesn’t know you’re taking the girls to visit his parents?” Luvie cocked her head, waiting for an explanation.
“No. I mean I don’t want him to know the details because at the end of the visit, I’m going to leave the girls with their grandparents so that I can . . . surprise Joe for a long weekend of . . . a romantic getaway.”
“Oh.” Luvie sat back on the sofa, her arms encircling both girls. She smiled beatifically. “How lovely.”
Nikki smiled in agreement then kissed the girls good-bye. It would have been quite lovely indeed if only it had been true.
* * *
• • •
Susan White’s home on Sunset Road didn’t look like it belonged to someone who had helped steal thirty-some million dollars. It was a one-story mostly brick ranch pockmarked with old jalousie windows. The front yard was an unhappy mix of crabgrass, sand, and unidentifiable foliage too stubborn to die. The cracked narrow driveway arrowed into a one-car garage. An uneven picket fence that had once been white bordered the property.
Bitsy stared out the passenger window of June’s car. “Are you sure this is the right house?”
“Yes,” June said after double-checking the address against the GPS. “Apparently crime really doesn’t pay. No wonder she was so excited when I told her that one of my clients had asked me to deliver something to her.”
“I know what I’d like to deliver,” Bitsy said as she got out of the car. But the truth was she was sorry she’d come. Righteous indignation had propelled her across the state, but now the last thing she wanted was to meet this woman that Bertie had slept and plotted with.
“Remember, you’re the victim here. She’s the one who’s supposed to feel bad,” June said with a bracing smile. “All we’re looking for is information at this point and help in going after Bertie.”
“Right.” Bitsy tried not to drag her feet as she and June walked to the door, tried to remember to breathe as it opened.
Susan White was an attractive brunette in her early forties with wide blue eyes, a peaches-and-cream complexion, over-plumped lips and an impressively large-yet-perky set of breasts, which Bitsy hoped she hadn’t paid for.
“Oh!” The woman’s eyes went saucer-like when she saw Bitsy. “Oh, shit!”
“I see you recognize my client,” June said smoothly. “May we come in?”
“Oh. I . . .” Sus
an’s inner struggle played out on her face, at least the parts of it that still moved. Let them in? Or close the door in their faces?
Bitsy’s internal debate was slightly different. Keep her hands to herself? Or slap this woman silly?
In the end the woman stepped back so they could enter what turned out to be the living room. She motioned them to the sofa, a camel-backed reproduction that was even less comfortable than it looked. “So, I gather no one left me money.”
“No,” June said. “But Mrs. Baynard is my client. And given your affair with her husband and your role in helping him bankrupt her, which the authorities are now going to investigate, we think it would be in your best interest to help bring him back to face charges. Otherwise you could end up taking the fall for the whole thing.”
Susan closed her eyes and Bitsy noticed she’d had them done. “I lost my job because of him! He lied to me. He told me he loved me and promised to send for me when he had everything set up. But I’m the one who got set up. It’s been a whole year since he left. And you know what he gave me? A couple thousand bucks to tide me over and a burner phone for emergencies. Only he never answered it any of the times I called.” She exhaled angrily then sighed. “Did he . . . did he really take someone else with him?”
“Yes. Being abandoned and lied to sucks doesn’t it?” Bitsy drew a breath of her own and attempted to dial back her anger. She’d been trained from birth to be polite in all situations, but this was way beyond smiling through veiled insults or cattiness at a cocktail party. “That was my money you stole. And my husband. Disappointing though he’s turned out to be, he was mine. Did you even stop for one minute and think about that?”
