Mobbed

by Carol Higgins Clark

“Miss Long?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Gordy from the front desk. The boss doesn’t think I properly welcomed the people who checked in this morning. So I’m trying to go out of my way for everybody. I’m going down to the market. I was wondering if you needed anything. You’ve been in there by yourself for several days now …”

  Cleo rolled her eyes. She’d told them she was writing a book on meditation but was sure that Dirk Tapper didn’t buy it, even though she didn’t think he recognized her. He had appeared at the door the other night asking if she wanted to roast marshmallows at the campfire with the rest of the gang. She’d declined the offer. Now she’d decline Gordy’s.

  “Thank you, Gordy, but I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’d open the door but I’m still in my bathrobe.”

  “You sound like my mom. She doesn’t like to be seen with curlers in her hair.”

  Cleo grimaced. What’s happening to my life? she wondered. She pretended to laugh. “Thanks anyway.”

  “Okay. If you need anything at all, just call the front desk.”

  “I will.” Cleo waited, then peered out the curtain. The tall, gangly boy was heading down the wooded trail, his arms swinging. He means well, Cleo thought. But isn’t this place supposed to offer privacy?

  Cleo went back to her computer to see if there was anything else online about the garage sale. In the comments section below the story, someone had just written, “I hear you’re off doing another movie, Cleo. No dead flowers in this one, I hope!”

  5

  Cliff and Yaya Paradise were heading back to their campsite in Ukraine, often incorrectly referred to as “the” Ukraine. They were staying in a campground in the mountains, close to the Black Sea, and the ruins of enough ancient castles to keep the most die-hard tourist busy. They’d been at an all-day dance class down in the valley. Naturally they had dressed for the part, wearing the traditional garb of the Ukrainian folk dancers. Cliff was an attractive man with gray hair and a robust build. His petite wife had white-blond hair and delicate features.

  “Yaya, I’m tired,” Cliff said. “I never thought I’d say it, but I am.”

  “That dancing was strenuous,” Yaya answered. “That instructor really swung you around the room. I think she had a crush on you.”

  “You’re making me blush, my sweet.”

  “You’ve never blushed in your life.”

  “True enough! Yaya, think of how impressed everyone will be when we perform the dances of so many different cultures at our joint seventieth birthday party.”

  “Darling, who are we going to invite? We don’t have many friends left. We’re off everyone’s holiday card list.”

  Cliff waved his hand. “That’s because no one knows where we are. But if we have a party, everyone will be there, I can assure you of that. Let’s have it in New York over the holidays. We should start planning.”

  Yaya reached for Cliff’s hand as they trudged up the mountain. “We should also think about spending more time in California. I miss Cleo terribly.”

  “She could have come with us on this trip,” Cliff said. “But she said no.”

  “The poor dear wanted to relax. She’s had so much this year. Ups and downs and ups and downs. I do wish she’d get a role she could sink her teeth into after she gets rid of that ghastly agent. And I wish she’d let us take her to a spiritual retreat in Tibet. We’d have a wonderful time.”

  “She’s finding her way in the world, my dear,” Cliff said. “She’s independent and headstrong. But you’re right. I miss her, too.” He turned to his wife of forty-nine years. “A strange feeling just came over me.”

  “What kind of feeling?”

  “We should head to New Jersey.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve never been there.”

  “No, we haven’t.”

  “We’ve been all over the world but never to New Jersey. Cleo is still there, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. The woman whose house she’s renting said she could extend her stay if she’d like. I think that’s what Cleo was planning to do. She was waiting for Daisy to finish her movie in the Everglades.”

  “We’ve never been there, either.”

  “No, we haven’t. Cleo said the Jersey Shore is beautiful.”

  “Jersey Shore? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s the term for the beach towns along the coastline in New Jersey. It extends for more than one hundred miles. I’ll have you know that people in New Jersey refer to it simply as ‘the Shore.’”

  “It sounds lovely. Let’s head back to the States, visit our daughter at ‘the Shore,’ plan our birthday party, and start scouting locations for our museum. Perhaps New Jersey would be a good setting. By now our trunk of treasures should have arrived at the house where Cleo is staying, shouldn’t it?”

  “Oh yes. I received a delivery confirmation when I checked our e-mail last week.”

  “Marvelous. Tomorrow we’ll head down into the valley where we can log onto the Internet and e-mail Cleo. We’ll tell her we’re on our way. I can’t wait to go through that big trunk and show Cleo each and every artifact we’ve lovingly collected on this trip. Treasures we want to share with the world.”

  “Cliff,” Yaya said breathlessly. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

  He patted her arm and raised an eyebrow. “I know.”

  They burst into laughter and together continued up the mountain.

  “Cleo will be so excited,” Yaya said. “I just know she will.”

  “Absolutely. She didn’t expect to see us again for months.”

  6

  I am not going to let Cleo Paradise get away with it.

  She can run, but she can’t hide. I can’t wait to make her regret what she’s done.

  Never again will she worry about bad scripts.

  Or dead flowers.

  7

  Regan had been staring out the window when the conductor’s voice came over the announcement system. “Next stop, Spring Lake. Please look around your seat and make sure you have all your belongings …”

  Regan put her laptop computer back in its case. As the train slowly rolled into the station, she got up and walked toward the exit. When she stepped outside, the air felt even hotter than before.

  “Regan! I’m over here!” Nora called.

  Regan turned her head. Nora, wearing oversized sunglasses, chic summer pants, blouse, and sandals, was standing by her Mercedes, waving her arms.

  Smiling, Regan hurried over.

  “Hi, darling, how was your trip?” Nora asked as she and Regan hugged.

  “Fine.” Regan opened the back door, placed her bag on the floor, then got into the driver’s seat as Nora went around to the passenger side. Ever since Regan got her driver’s license, she’d always been the driver when she was with Nora. Nora was happy to relinquish the wheel. Regan and Luke always joked that driving with Nora made them seasick. She didn’t keep her foot steady on the gas, preferring to apply pressure only when she felt the car slowing down. Which was every three seconds.

  “I programmed the address into the navigation system,” Nora said as the two of them fastened their seat belts. “It should take us no time to get there.”

  “Does this woman have any idea you’re coming?” Regan asked.

  “No.”

  “What time does the sale start?”

  “Noon. Regan, I didn’t ask you on the phone. Anything happen last night with the guy Hayley is dating?”

  Regan put the car into drive and steered out of the parking lot. “Was dating.”

  “Was dating? What happened?”

  “He got engaged …”

  Nora shook her head as Regan recounted the tale of Scott’s fortune cookie proposal. “What is it with these guys?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What did this bird do for a living?”

  “Something in finance,” Regan said. “Poor Hayley. I hadn
’t talked to her in so long. I was sorry it had to be under those circumstances.” She paused for a moment. “When is the last time you saw this Edna Frawley?”

  “High school.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Way back when.”

  Regan smiled. “I’m never going to live that down.”

  They drove toward Bay Head. It was a gorgeous day.

  Twenty minutes later they reached the treelined street that the navigation device called their “final destination.”

  “This is nice,” Regan said.

  “It’s always been a lovely area,” Nora agreed. “I remember once when I stayed with Karen, Edna offered to take us to the movies. When Karen was in line for popcorn, Edna asked me for the money for my ticket.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Nora laughed. “I’m not.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” Regan said.

  “It sounds like she hasn’t changed much,” Nora commented. “Look at that line of people!”

  As the house came into view, so did the throngs of people waiting outside the gate.

  “There’s no place to park,” Regan said. “Do you want me to drop you off and I’ll find a space?”

  “No. Look, Regan, there’s someone pulling out down the block. Let’s grab that spot.”

  It took Regan three attempts to parallel park the car.

  Nora smiled. “I can’t keep my foot on the gas, you can’t parallel park.”

  They got out and hurried back to the gate, where a ponytailed young woman was handing out tickets. Regan almost stopped dead in her tracks.

  It was Scott’s fiancé.

  8

  All morning Hayley sat in her office overlooking the Hudson River, fielding congratulatory calls about the wonderful party she’d organized last night. Framed movie posters hung on the brick walls, movies whose premiere parties Hayley had also planned.

  “It was too fabulous, darling. And you looked gorgeous. So stylish.”

  “Hayley, you outdid yourself. Everything ran smooth as silk!”

  “Those pigs in a blanket were divine! I love that you had the nerve to serve them!”

  Reeling from the news about Scott’s engagement, Hayley did her best to pretend she was on cloud nine. She was too embarrassed to say a word about Regan’s shocking find to her twenty-three-year-old assistant. Angie had a terrific boyfriend she’d been dating since college. I hope they get married soon, Hayley thought. Dating is torture.

  Hayley had just hung up the phone when Angie knocked on the door.

  “Hayley?”

  Hayley looked up. “Yes, come in.”

  Angie appeared in the doorway. Small and blond, she had a pretty face and a sweet smile. But she could be tough when Hayley needed her to be. Like keeping gate-crashers out of parties who tried to pretend they were on the guest list.

  “I wanted to remind you about your lunch date. It’s getting a little late.”

  “Thanks, Angie. Of course. I’m a little tired and with everyone calling …”

  Angie nodded. “You did a great job last night. I have so many e-mails from potential clients to go over with you when you get back. Everyone wants you to plan their events. You’re hot!”

  Not that hot, Hayley thought. But she smiled. “The trick is to keep it going. In this business, there’s always someone new coming down the pike who wants to copy your style, grab your connections …”

  “There’s no one like you, Hayley,” Angie said, perhaps a little too brightly.

  Hayley got up, went into the little bathroom off her office, and looked in the mirror. I look so drained, she thought. I definitely need more makeup. She brushed her long, highlighted hair and applied blush and lipstick. One thing about being an event planner, she thought, is that you always have to be upbeat and look alive. People don’t want sad sacks to plan their parties. Hayley had a lunch date with a producer whose Broadway play would be opening in October. Word was the script wasn’t great, but this woman was determined to have a blowout when the curtain went down.

  Hayley put her makeup back in her cosmetics bag, zipped her purse, and headed to the outer office.

  “I’ll be back in a few hours,” she said to Angie. “Hold down the fort.”

  “I will. Have fun!”

  Hayley walked into the hallway and pressed the button for the elevator. The building had been a warehouse before it was converted to offices. It was a hip place to work, brimming with the energy of numerous twentysomethings, excited about their careers, anxious to grab every opportunity New York City had to offer. The elevator door finally opened. Hayley stepped inside. As the door closed her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. It was Scott! If Hayley didn’t feel alive before, she did now. So alive she felt as if she’d just stuck her finger in a socket.

  A couple other people were on the elevator, no one Hayley recognized. For a moment she debated whether to answer. Finally she couldn’t help herself.

  “Hello,” she said quickly. “I’m on an elevator …”

  “Hey,” Scott said, his voice dripping with affection. “How did it go last night?”

  “Great,” Hayley answered curtly. “How was your night?”

  “I took my son to the movies.”

  “How nice.”

  “It is. It’s especially nice because I saw him last night instead of Saturday. One of his friends is having a party. Which means I’m free to go out with you. What do you say, Hayley? I want to make it a perfect evening.”

  The elevator door opened at the ground floor. Hayley stepped into the lobby. The expression on her face would have stopped a clock.

  “Hayley?” Scott asked. “Are you there?”

  “I’m here,” Hayley said. “I’d love to see you Saturday night, Scott. It will be nothing less than perfect.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  You say that now, Hayley thought, grinning wickedly. But our date will be one of my most carefully planned events ever. And one of my biggest. One that you’ll wish you never attended.

  9

  Inside her home, Edna had just started chatting with Mark Peabody, a young reporter from a paper she had never heard of. They were standing in the spacious vestibule. Peabody had a camera and was streaming their interview live on the Internet.

  “As you can see,” Edna said, pointing to the wall where the letter Cleo had written her was hanging in a frame, “Cleo left me to do as I saw fit with her things.”

  “Fascinating,” the earnest young man said as he trained the camera on the letter. “Just fascinating. She says she was offered a role in an exciting new movie. I hope it’s better than her last one. Did you see You Don’t Bring Me Flowers, Alive or Dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you think that was a terrible career choice?”

  “How am I supposed to know? I’m not her agent. And she’s off doing another movie so it hasn’t stopped her.”

  “Good point. It’s just that the role in My Super Super was so perfectly suited to the talent and charisma of Cleo Paradise. So perfect she received an Academy Award nomination. I watch that movie over and over. Cleo was hilarious as the nutty superintendent.”

  And she wouldn’t let me take her to lunch, Edna thought. I could have used a few laughs. “It sounds like you have a crush on her.”

  “Oh …,” Mark said. “What guy wouldn’t?” Nervously he cleared his throat. “Can we get a look at what you’re selling of Cleo’s? I’m sure that folks all over the world who can’t make it to the sale would love a peek …”

  “Folks all over the world?” Edna asked.

  “Of course. The Internet is the World Wide Web.”

  “That doesn’t mean everyone’s watching.”

  “You never know, Mrs. Frawley.”

  “I should have had operators standing by,” Edna muttered. “Follow me.” She led him into the dining room and pointed at the table.

  “Wow!” Peabody cried. “Maybe Cleo does prefer the dark
side of life. I’m sure a lot of people will want to get a look at this!”

  The dining room table was covered with skulls.

  10

  Edna’s offspring was a nervous wreck. It’s a good thing I woke up so early this morning, Karen thought as she raced to the gate at San Diego International Airport, where her flight to Newark was already boarding. If I hadn’t had such trouble sleeping last night, I still might not have looked at that e-mail. I’d have slept until eight, pulled on my gym clothes, and gone to a Pilates class. Then I’d have come home and relaxed and read the paper. Then maybe I would have checked my e-mail.

  Karen had dragged herself out of bed at 4:30. She’d heard that if you couldn’t sleep, you should get up and do something to get your mind off the fact you had insomnia. For hours she’d tossed and turned, trying to decide whether to follow that advice.

  Finally she decided to listen to the experts. She dragged herself out of bed, went into the kitchen, turned on her computer, and read the e-mail from her childhood friend who had seen the ad for the garage sale.

  “Your house is sold!” Donna Crumby had written. She had a bakery near where they grew up and was the world’s leading gossip. “I’m so sorry! We had so much fun at your pool parties. Remember those three-legged races?”

  Karen was blown away. “No wonder I couldn’t sleep!” she’d growled, slamming her computer mouse down on the counter. “I knew something was brewing. I swear I’m psychic when it comes to my mother!”

  A seventh-grade teacher, Karen also taught summer school. The session had ended last week. Since then she’d been relishing her free time. Not anymore.

  After calling her mother, then the airlines, then Nora Regan Reilly, Karen had gone back into the bedroom. Hank woke up when she pulled her suitcase off the shelf in the closet and it came crashing to the floor.

  “My mother sold the house without telling me!” Karen shrieked. “The woman talks my ear off about every little thing. What she had for breakfast, lunch, dinner, every boring detail of her life. She didn’t think something like this was worthy of a discussion?”