Amber Affairs

by Patricia Rice

  “If you really think we need to, I could remove the ghost-catchers at the lodge,” Mariah said. “Once the poltergeists gather force, they’ll terrify the princess bride and her staff. Have you met her? Fiona says she’s a holy terror, and Dinah is considering closing the restaurant for maintenance to avoid her demands.”

  “Does Fee say any of them smell fishy?” Amber asked, worrying at her beads, trying to decide what to do.

  “No, they just reek of wealth and privilege or some such. She’s feeding them beans, I think out of meanness.” Mariah twisted her crystal-knobbed walking stick in her hands as she did when she didn’t have a keyboard handy. “We should call a meeting.”

  Fiona ran the lunch counter and café next to Dinah’s upscale restaurant. She’d only been living in Hillvale for a few months, but she’d made her reputation by snaring the town’s mayor and saving a kidnapped child. Fee had a gift for sensing character by smell and feeding everyone what they needed. Amber could swear she’d lost a few pounds these last months just eating what Fee prepared for her. But admittedly, the little cook had a dangerous tendency toward vengeance.

  “Find out more,” Cass commanded. “This wedding business is good for the town in more ways than profit. Love, hope, and excitement counter the evil energies from the mountain. I don’t want to see Amber’s friend hurt, but he’s not from here. As Amber says, he’ll go home at the end of the day, and whatever darkness is surrounding him may go with him.”

  Amber didn’t want Josh to suffer anywhere, and she didn’t want his Hollywood friends laughing at her. That made her a less than objective party to this conversation, so she stayed silent on any decision. Admittedly, her business would thrive with more tourists, but at this point, she doubted it would be enough to raise a teenager and hire a lawyer to sue the crap out of her mother.

  “I’m supposed to see Josh this evening,” she told them. “But I need the cards to read him, and he’s not likely to ask for them again. Could you look into the bride some more? She’s part of the picture, but I don’t know in what way.”

  “Don’t let him talk you into leaving Hillvale,” Mariah warned, her expression showing she understood what Josh was to her. “You belong here as much as I do.”

  “I know that,” Amber said softly, but the other two women were already making plans and heading out the door.

  If life had taught her nothing else, it had taught her that every battle had its price. The last battle had cost everything she held dear. Could she afford another?

  Three

  “It’s Josh,” Amber told her enemy, the mirror. “I can’t abandon him if he needs me.”

  She waited for the image to angrily toss her hair and walk away—as she’d done all those years ago. Walked, anyway. She hadn’t had long hair to toss back then.

  Unfortunately, the unhelpful glass revealed the fifty-pound-heavier version of her real self, not the sturdy teenager who’d been too hefty already. Once upon a time, she’d starved and worked herself to death in an attempt to keep off the pounds. She’d quit torturing herself after she’d left Hollywood.

  She’d had enough counseling over the years to know that wasn’t the whole truth.

  “Josh doesn’t need you,” the teenager behind the mirror said with scorn. “He has money, a filthy rich bride, tons of friends, probably lawyers out the wazoo. He never needed you.”

  That had been the argument that had allowed her to run away without telling her best friend where she’d gone. She’d been a bit misleading when she’d told Josh that her mother knew where she was. All those years ago, Amber hadn’t told Crystal or anyone her location until she was settled and comfortable. That had taken years. By then, everyone had forgotten her, which was exactly what she’d wanted.

  The rebellious, careless teenager had died fourteen years ago and did not need to be resurrected.

  So, the adult needed to take responsibility for her actions. She’d obviously hurt Josh more than she’d realized. His cards indicated danger and a tragic life decision. She had to let him know she was there for him. And he’d offered a way to do it privately, so the public didn’t know who she was—who she had been.

  But a swimming pool? She sighed and turned to her limited wardrobe. She liked lace and frills. The Gypsy look suited her. Spandex did not. But like every woman who occasionally wanted to wear something sexy, she owned garments that held her in and up. They were probably as substantial as any flimsy bathing suit. She’d look like one of those old-time ladies in their thigh-length bathing outfits, maybe, but she’d had Josh’s admiration long ago and had thrown it away. This was for her, because she needed his friendship. And he just might need hers, although that was probably reaching into daydream country.

  So, for Josh, she tugged on black fat-crushers, then dug out her prettiest gauzy caftan, one that floated like a turquoise cloud when she walked. She’d spent her youth in front of mirrors, and counseling had taught her not to be afraid of them now. Since she didn’t have a chance to wear her pretty clothes often, she admired the result in the mirror, sticking her tongue out at the unhappy teenager. And because her cleavage looked damned good in the low-cut gown, she pinned her naturally orange hair up, leaving only a few dangling curls.

  She turned to her wall of beaded jewelry, but this was a casual pool date, not an evening out. If she had to actually get in the water—and if Josh hadn’t changed much, that was a certainty—she didn’t want to be taking jewelry on and off.

  “This is how an adult behaves,” she told her image.

  “You’ll never see him again once he sees you looking like that,” the teenager griped.

  “You sound just like my mother. Go away, little girl.” Shoulders back Amber floated from her tiny bedroom into her only slightly larger main room. She could still do heels, if she didn’t have to walk far. But just in case, she grabbed the crystal-headed walking stick that declared her as one of Hillvale’s Lucys.

  The teenager inside her wept and wailed with fear and shame, but Amber ruthlessly crushed the little brat. She’d never been weepy Snow White or Cinderella. In the stories she and Josh had acted out, she’d been the powerful witch who saved the knight who slayed the dragon and saved the day.

  Josh ate his dinner alone, not for the first time. Willa had called saying she had an emergency and was heading back to the city, taking her crew with her. As a busy producer, she had a lot of demands on her time. Until filming started, he didn’t, so he kicked back and made notes on his script while he waited for Amber.

  Damn, he couldn’t believe he’d found her after all these years.

  He remembered the first time he’d seen Ginger, looking like a golden-haired princess in a fluffy pink gown at the audition he’d been dragged to. He’d been ten and just becoming aware that his father was a drunken loser, and that his little sister cried all the time because she was hungry and couldn’t keep down beans and rice. He’d seen the desperation on his mother’s lined face when he’d balked at going on a stage.

  And then the eight-year-old princess had grinned, pulled up the froufrou dress, and offered him a chocolate bar from a pouch she’d tied around her bare waist. It had been the start of a not-always glorious friendship.

  The Jack and Ginger Show had been a financial success that had pulled both their families out of poverty, but it had stolen their childhoods, robbed them of self-respect, and shattered dreams. He’d have thrown a champagne party for thousands when Ginger had walked—if he’d been there when she’d done it.

  Returning from that miserable experience on the snowy, isolated set in Romania to find she’d vanished had nearly broken him. Josh slashed at the script he was working on and rewrote rather than contemplate what had driven a sixteen-year-old girl to the extreme of divorcing her mother and running. At the time, he’d had plenty of reason to think her mother or Dell or the two in cahoots had killed her—probably with diet pills and ruinous exercise.

  He was kind of proud that she had escaped—and royally pissed
that she hadn’t told him where or why.

  So he waited to see if she’d rise to the challenge and show up tonight. If she didn’t, he’d have to hunt her down again. He wasn’t particularly superstitious, but it seemed like Fate had a plan when it had thrown his childhood fantasy on his doorstep at this juncture in his life.

  A few minutes before ten, he wandered out to the private entrance where the valet was supposed to drop Amber.

  The Prius rolled up, and Josh breathed a sigh of relief. He had lots of acquaintances—everyone wanted to know an up-and-coming director. But true friends. . .didn’t happen often.

  Amber had ripped a huge hole in his life. He didn’t trust easily these days.

  She climbed out wearing some kind of flowing caftan thing and carrying one of the crystal-knobbed walking sticks he’d seen around town. She hadn’t lost that imposing princess impression she’d possessed even at age eight. Tonight, in the light from the security lamp, she looked like a regal goddess with her scepter, striding toward her worshippers. Amber was short even in heels, but her graceful carriage had always given the illusion of height. With all that gorgeous hair piled high, she reached past his chin.

  He belatedly discovered that she still had a slight hitch in her stride, but he was too focused on tracing the changes in her face to notice more. He’d always wanted to lick her as if she were vanilla ice cream, her complexion was that delicious—and still devoid of cosmetics. She’d despised the crap the studio had painted her with.

  “I have guards at ze doors,” he said in his best sinister voice. “No one vill disturb us.”

  “I might,” she said serenely, taking the arm he offered. “What does your fiancée think of your secret hideaway?”

  “Willa?” Relieved that she was still a voice of reason, he returned to his normal tone. “She’s at her own secret hideaway this evening, apparently. I got stood up for dinner. You could have joined me, and I could have trounced you at Monster Pavilion.”

  He understood the glance she sent his way. He had always been the more idealistic of the two. She wouldn’t understand why he’d settled for this relationship with Willa. Pragmatist that she was, she didn’t question.

  “I haven’t played video games in over a decade,” she said as they traversed the hedge-lined path. “You would have to give me a handicap. You don’t really want me to swim, do you? I haven’t been in a pool since I left La-La Land. I can’t believe I used to worry about my weight when I was young and toned.”

  They’d had late night discussions like this when they were teenagers, griping about their flaws. He’d wanted to stretch his height on a rack. She’d wanted to lose five pounds. Then ten. But the sessions had always ended in parody and laughter.

  “You didn’t worry,” he reminded her. “Your mother and Dell-the-Damned Producer did. You grew up and filled out, and they didn’t like it. The show needed Shirley Temple, and you were turning into Marilyn Monroe.” Josh opened the door to the pool room and locked it behind him. “But since it meant that they allowed you in the pool with me, I didn’t complain.”

  “I’m lazy. I hated exercising, but you made it fun.” Dismissing his flattery, she glanced around at the pool enclosure. “Can we turn down the lights?”

  “Ah, secret moonlight rhapsody. Got it.” He switched off the mains and dimmed the rest. “Shall I turn on romantic music to set the mood?”

  “You wish,” she said.

  He almost smiled at the memories her defiance stirred. By the time he turned from the switches, she’d left her caftan gracing a poolside chair and was already in the water. Without thinking, he grabbed the small camera that was practically a part of him and took a few snaps.

  “I’ll give you a fifty-yard handicap on this first lap.” He stripped down to his bathing suit. Recreating his youth was probably a stupid move, but he needed this break after the pressure of the past week.

  “I’ll be lucky to stay afloat,” she grumbled, striking out.

  He’d been a ninety-pound weakling, but Amber had always been a strong swimmer, despite her grumbling. Tonight, she wasn’t up to her youthful form, he noted, but this was all about the company, and Josh didn’t care. He jumped in when she was halfway across the pool.

  They stroked in silence, as they always had, not really competing but encouraging each other to keep going. Of course, back then, Josh realized, a certain level of sexuality crept in as they aged and developed hormones. Amber had developed a voluptuous figure, and the cool pool water was the only way to hide his horniness.

  Some things hadn’t changed a hell of a lot.

  Obviously gasping for air, she quit after only two laps and let him continue until he had his full workout. She sat on the pool steps, with the water concealing much of her entertaining underwear.

  Once he was done, he climbed out and rummaged for towels, throwing her several and draping himself before collapsing in a lounge chair. “Pity we don’t have anyone serving mai tais. Think I can persuade room service to deliver out here?”

  “You’d be drinking as many calories as you just worked off.” Tucking a large towel around her waist and draping another around her neck, she took the chair beside him and pulled a bottle of water from her bag. “I’ll share.”

  “Sensible,” he grumbled, taking a swallow and handing it back. “I hope you aren’t still doing that diet thing. It made you grumpy.”

  She gave him a loud raspberry, just as she used to do, and he had to drop a towel over his lap.

  “I’m not you,” she said. “You burn calories like a steam engine. I don’t. And we don’t have fancy gyms up here, so exercise doesn’t come easily. I just eat in moderation these days.”

  “Want me to ask management to let you use the pool?” he asked, because that was easier than all the other questions he wanted answered. Influence, he could do.

  “No. I am nobody here, and I want it that way. I’m not asking the Kennedys to treat me special. This isn’t a community pool. It’s for paying guests. Tell me what you’ve been doing since I saw you last. How did you meet your fiancée?”

  Josh wished the water was a beer, but he had never been anything less than honest with Amber. “You don’t keep up with the weeklies anymore? It’s all there.”

  She blew another raspberry. “No, I don’t read that sensational trash. I know you’re a romantic at heart, so tell me you love her more than life itself.”

  Josh laughed at the notion that he could still be that naïve. Amber had pretty much ground those fantasies to dust. “That’s not how the world works, Blue Eyes, and you know it. Willa and I are like the couples in those romances you used to read, the ones where the noble aristocrats marry because of power and wealth. I’m good with that.”

  “A marriage of convenience?” she asked, incredulity coloring her voice. “I’m not believing you’ve changed that much. Tell me she’s your rebound after a disastrous love affair, and I’ll accept that you’re currently feeling jaded and mean.”

  He snorted. “Okay, then you were my disastrous love affair, because I am jaded and mean. I couldn’t get where I am any other way.”

  “That’s sad.” She took the bottle and sipped it while staring over the shadowy waters of the pool. “We were babies then. We never would have lasted. You should have had a glorious love affair in college and married and had your own babies by now.”

  “That’s your fantasy, not mine. I grew up watching my mother work her fingers to the bone to keep a roof over our heads. I wanted enough money to keep my family safe, but I didn’t want to be in the power of pricks like Dell for the rest of my life. So I worked my tail off while taking classes when I could—no fancy college experience there. And by the time I got that degree, I was easing into production. I’m too short and too bad an actor for anything but the side-kick role, and that got old fast.”

  “Bull hockey,” she said with a snort. “Tom Cruise is no giant, and you have more to offer than he will ever have. Go back to telling me you didn’t want more
Dell-the-Damned Producers running the show. That, I’ll believe.”

  Since he was marrying a damned producer, he had to bite his tongue. “Enough about me. Tell me why you ran away. I thought you told me once that your family never had the sense to flee.”

  He’d counted on her being there when he got back. He’d spun fantasies of how he’d rescue her once he had the film money. Instead of buying an engagement ring as he’d planned, he’d spent those earnings trying to find her, caught up in that rescue fantasy. He’d obviously hired the wrong people because, dammit, it looked as if she’d saved herself.

  “I told you, once your career took off, I didn’t want to hold you back,” she said without a hint of regret. “It was time for me to look after myself. I was pretty mature for a sixteen-year-old, just handicapped by too many laws. Did you know I couldn’t even open a bank account on my own? So I found ways of earning cash my mother didn’t know about, hired a lawyer, slapped her with a big, fat lawsuit, threatened criminal action, and escaped.”

  “What the hell did you do to earn cash?” he asked in suspicion.

  She snapped him with one of her towels. Josh grabbed it and whipped it away, leaving more of her cleavage for his perusal. The straight-as-a-stick teenager had developed a glorious prow. If Dell hadn’t been into little boys, he’d have seen he had a budding sex goddess he could have exploited far easier than tomboy Ginger.

  “Voice-overs, mostly,” she said in what almost sounded like anger. “And I had a pretty good side gig making others pay me to read lines with them. I persuaded the scriptwriters to slip me cash every time I caught a loophole or anachronism. I’d been on the show longer than any of them, so I knew what Ginger and Jack would do and had done. I even got my mother to give me an allowance by telling her I was bribing the costumers.”

  “Damn,” he muttered. “But that would barely earn enough to pay for a single hour of a decent lawyer’s time.”