by Peg Cochran
She hesitated for another moment and then rather timidly smacked the door knocker against its post. It didn’t seem to have made much noise, but the door was thrown open almost immediately by a young man who would have been very handsome if it hadn’t been for his rather weak and petulant-looking chin.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a voice that matched the plummy tones of Felicity and other actors Gigi had known. She recognized him as Felicity’s leading man in For Better or For Worse.
Right behind him was a large, eager golden retriever.
“I’m Gigi.” She stuck out her hand. Reg stood stiffly at her side, gazing at the other dog as if taking its measure.
The fellow enveloped Gigi’s hand in both of his own. “I’m Alex Goulet.” He gestured toward the football-field-size foyer. “Welcome to the madhouse.”
Gigi hesitantly stepped over the threshold and looked around. Each time, she couldn’t help being struck by the grandeur of Felicity’s home. A huge staircase spiraled up toward a second-floor landing, and a living room and dining room yawned open on either side of the foyer, framed by carved, white columns.
“I think Felicity’s in the kitchen.”
Gigi followed Alex as he led the way toward the back of the house. Reg trotted at her side with the golden close behind, its nose perilously close to Reg’s hindquarters.
The foyer ended in a small round room whose ceiling and walls were draped in fabric. An elegant, antique-looking desk stood dead center. They rounded a corner and went down a long hall that opened into an enormous kitchen, at the far end of which was a large bay window. An island dominated the center of the room, and all the countertops were granite. Gigi glanced around in awe—the appliances were state-of-the-art, commercial grade. Cooking in this space was going to be a real luxury.
The room was empty.
“I can’t imagine where Felicity has gotten to,” Alex said. He looked around as if he were expecting Felicity to pop out of a cabinet at any minute. “I’ll go see if I can find out where she’s gone.”
Before Gigi could say a word, he was gone, too, leaving behind only a wisp of fragrance from his aftershave.
Gigi heaved the two laden grocery bags she was carrying onto the counter and sorted through the contents. She opened the refrigerator and began organizing her supplies on the sparkling glass shelves.
Reggie found a quiet spot under the wood refectory table and lay panting, his pink tongue bobbing up and down. The golden crawled underneath and took up residence right next to him, its bright red tongue lolling from the side of its mouth.
“He’s done it again. After I told him absolutely not to.” Felicity burst into the room, her long red hair flying around her shoulders. She was wearing a hot pink velour tracksuit with a very chichi brand name scrawled across her rear in fancy black script. She gripped a purse by one handle, the bag yawning open and threatening to eject its contents all over the kitchen floor.
She stopped short when she saw Gigi. “Oh, so sorry. I didn’t realize you were here.” She made a dramatic gesture that Gigi recognized from episodes of For Better or For Worse. “Derek’s been in my purse again.”
For a moment Gigi had a vision of someone named Derek scrounging in Felicity’s purse for her lipstick or powder compact.
Felicity dumped her handbag on the table and yanked her wallet from its depths. She fanned open the billfold and waved it toward Gigi. “Empty! Completely empty! And I went to the ATM yesterday. That boy is going to be the death of me.” She blew back a piece of hair that had fallen onto her forehead.
Gigi must have looked as confused as she felt because Felicity went on to explain.
“Derek is my stepson. He’s in the habit of going through my purse and helping himself to money whenever he runs short. His father gives him more than enough for his allowance. I can’t imagine what he spends it on. We provide virtually everything he needs, and he has charge accounts in every store on High Street.”
Must be nice, Gigi thought. She wondered how old the thieving Derek was.
A young man strode into the room, stopping short at the sight of Felicity and her open purse. He was tall and thin, with dark hair that fell across his forehead and flopped over the collar of his shirt. Gigi judged him to be in his midtwenties.
“Derek,” Felicity declared with a broad sweep of her arm. “You’ve been in my purse again.”
The young man gave a snort of disgust, grabbed an apple out of the basket on the counter and bit into it decisively. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it. It must be that new maid you’ve hired.”
“Anja has impeccable references,” Felicity called after his retreating back.
“As I said, welcome to the madhouse.” Gigi turned around to find that Alex was standing behind her.
“I gather you two have met.” Felicity indicated Alex with a wave. She opened the refrigerator, gazed at the contents for a moment and then shut the door resolutely.
“I’ve already lost ten pounds,” she announced to Gigi triumphantly.
Gigi felt the glow of satisfaction she always did when one of her clients succeeded. Sometimes she thought she was even more excited than they were.
“Let me know if there’s anything you need.” Felicity tapped Gigi on the shoulder before whirling around and disappearing out the door, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume in her wake.
• • •
Gigi set to work cutting radishes into decorative flower shapes to garnish the hors d’oeuvre serving platters. They would keep in a bowl of water in the refrigerator overnight, and she wouldn’t have to fuss with them the day of the party. They were easy to prepare and always made a spectacular presentation. Gigi firmly believed that everything tasted better when arranged attractively. It was one of the tips she regularly gave her clients—put your food on a pretty plate, use a linen napkin and sit down and savor each bite. She dropped the radishes into a bowl of ice water as she finished carving.
She was carrying the bowl to the refrigerator when Sienna popped her head around the corner to say hello.
“Welcome to the madhouse,” Sienna said, echoing Alex’s earlier statement. She had just come in from outside, and her cheeks were blushed with color from the crisp air. Her long, strawberry blond hair was twisted into a precarious knot on top of her head, and she had a newspaper tucked under her arm. Gigi noticed that her stomach now protruded through the opening of her jacket.
Sienna must have seen her glance. She patted her belly happily. “The little bugger has been unbelievably active today. Oliver thinks he’s going to be a soccer player.”
Gigi smiled. “What if it turns out to be a she?”
Sienna laughed. “Please, don’t tell Oliver that! He’s convinced it’s going to be a boy.” She was quiet for a moment. “Either way, we’re going to love it. We’re both so happy.”
Gigi smiled at her friend. It was good to see Sienna so happy. She and Oliver had weathered some major storms, but it looked as if they’d finally sailed into calm waters.
Sienna tilted her head toward the ceiling. “I’m going to go upstairs and get some work done. You’ve done wonders with Felicity,” she said, rubbing her belly again. “She said she’s already lost ten pounds, although frankly, I think it’s closer to five.”
“At least she’s going in the right direction.”
“We’ve planned a complete makeover,” Sienna confided, “new hairdo, new wardrobe, the works. Then we’re going to unveil the new Felicity Davenport at the Crystal Awards in Las Vegas. I’m confident that she’s going to make a smashing comeback.”
“I’ve got complete faith in you,” Gigi said.
A furrow creased Sienna’s brow.
“Don’t worry,” Gigi interjected. “I’ll be sure to keep her on track as far as her diet’s concerned.”
Sienna’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Thanks. That’s been a huge worry, but if anyone can do it, you can.”
Sienna disappeared around the corner to begin the long
climb to the third floor.
Gigi scraped the bits and pieces of radish carvings into the sink and turned on the disposal. Her thoughts turned somber. She’d hoped that she and Ted would have been in the same position as Sienna and Oliver by now. But Ted had left her for another woman—an older woman; Gigi cringed every time she thought of it. Right now the only child in her future was Sienna’s baby, for whom she was going to be the godmother.
She caught sight of Reg under the table, his bright pink tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. She smiled. Right now, Reg was her baby, and she was more than happy to have him.
Gigi dumped a bunch of veggies from her bag into a colander and ran cold water over them. She realized, as she ran her fingers through the icy stream, that she’d spent her life taking water for granted. She gave the strainer a vigorous shake and set it on the counter. She was reaching for some paper towels when she heard a noise that sent her swiveling toward the door.
Raised voices echoed from one of the rooms overhead. Gigi paused momentarily trying to identify the two feminine voices. She was shocked when she realized that one of them sounded like it belonged to Sienna. And the other? She cocked her head to one side, straining as hard as possible to hear. She realized, with a start, that the other voice belonged to Felicity.
Gigi couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but anger clearly crackled from Sienna’s tone. Felicity? She sounded more amused.
Finally, silence descended, and Gigi breathed a sigh of relief. She put the freshly washed vegetables in a ziplock bag and tucked them into the produce drawer in the refrigerator. They were ready for the crudités platter she would put together tomorrow right before the party.
The silence was suddenly broken by a sound that Gigi identified as that of someone stamping their foot. That was followed by an outburst that clearly came from Sienna.
“I swear, someday I’m going to kill that woman!”
Chapter 2
Gigi had her hands full prepping for the upcoming party as well as preparing a light dinner for the guests already assembled at Felicity’s house. By the time she got upstairs to check on Sienna, her office was dark and empty.
The guest room Felicity had prepared for Gigi was on the third floor, down the hall from the room she’d turned into a working space for Sienna. Twin four-poster beds covered in fluffy comforters were nestled beneath two dormer windows, and there was a small bathroom en suite. While Gigi hated to be away from her own tidy little cottage, the room was certainly charming.
“Which bed do you want?” she asked Reggie as she hauled her suitcase onto the luggage rack and flung it open. Felicity had insisted Gigi join them for dinner, and she desperately needed to change from her flour-dusted jeans and T-shirt.
Reggie cocked his head and gave her a curious expression.
“I know, boy.” She bent down and scratched behind his ear. “We always share a bed, don’t we?” Gigi often awoke during the night to find herself curled into a tight ball while Reggie sprawled on his back, limbs spread wide.
Gigi scrounged through her suitcase, although she already knew exactly what was in it. She settled on a pair of black trousers and an emerald green silk blouse that set off the color of her auburn hair.
She gave her face a quick splash and scooted, with Reggie close on her heels, back down the stairs to the kitchen. Lights were on in the paneled library, and as Gigi got closer, she could hear the rise and fall of voices and the clink of ice against glasses. She glanced into the room as she passed and noticed the golden, whose name she’d been told was Tabitha, stretched out in the center of the Oriental carpet, surrounded by a small group of people.
Gigi didn’t linger but scurried into the kitchen, wrapped a clean chef’s apron around her waist and grabbed a silver tray from the cupboard. She’d created some light appetizers for Felicity and her dinner guests—stalks of endive tipped with a scant spoonful of goat cheese and bejeweled with several grains of caviar, a yogurt-based dip for ice cold crudités and shrimp salad on cucumber slices. She arranged everything on the tray, garnished it with a few of the radish flowers and headed toward the library.
Felicity met her at the door with outstretched arms. “Do put the tray down, dear Gigi, and join us.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the room.
Gigi felt herself shrinking inside. She wasn’t particularly shy, but she liked keeping a barrier between herself and her clients. Especially when her client was someone as famous as Felicity Davenport.
But Felicity insisted. Gigi perched on the edge of a leather-covered club chair and quickly untied her apron. She balled it up and stuffed it behind her.
“Name your poison.” Alex swept a hand over a drinks tray laden with top-shelf liquors and cut crystal decanters.
Gigi spied an open bottle of Merlot. “A glass of red wine, please.”
“Red wine it shall be.”
While Alex poured the ruby red liquid into a delicate stemmed wineglass, Gigi looked around the room.
Felicity must have noticed her glance. “So sorry. You don’t exactly know everyone, do you?” She smiled apologetically. “You’ve met Alex, of course. And Derek.” She scowled at the young man in jeans and a stretched-out sweater who was lounging in a velvet-covered wing chair with his legs slung over the arm. “Derek, please do not sit like that.”
Derek glanced toward a tall man with a head of thick gray hair who was nursing a cut crystal tumbler of amber liquid. He shrugged, and Derek reluctantly swung his legs off the chair’s arm and stuck them straight out, sliding down to sit on his tailbone.
“My husband, Jack Winchel.” Felicity blew a kiss toward the gray-haired man.
“My manager, Don Bartholomew.” She indicated a slightly plump, dark-haired man who was chewing on the end of an unlit cigar. He nodded briefly at Gigi.
“I’m Vanessa Huff.” A tall, curvy blonde leaned toward Gigi and tapped her on the knee. She had the face of an angel with large blue eyes and long, dark lashes, but Gigi suspected she was anything but.
Gigi took a few polite sips of her wine and glanced at her watch. According to Felicity, her Finnish housekeeper, Anja, would be back from her day off in time to serve the dinner, but Gigi wanted to be there to supervise. Besides, she still had to grill the salmon with teriyaki glaze that was the centerpiece of the main course.
When Felicity and Don became engaged in a heated argument over Felicity’s newest contract renewal with the television network, the others looked on with bored expressions.
Gigi sat quietly as the conversation flowed around her. Everyone seemed to have forgotten her, but she didn’t mind. It felt good to be off her feet. She sipped her wine and relaxed, leaning back with her head against the chair. A quick glance at her watch, however, told her that it was now time to return to the kitchen.
Gigi excused herself and hurried down the hall. A woman with white blond hair was in the kitchen putting dishes into the warming oven. Gigi supposed this was the housekeeper Felicity had mentioned. She was wearing black pants and a white shirt and had a clean apron wrapped around her waist.
She turned when she heard Gigi’s footsteps.
She was apple-cheeked with deep blue eyes. She smiled shyly at Gigi.
“Hi,” Gigi said, putting out a hand. “I’m Gigi.”
“Anja,” the woman replied, ducking her head. “I am sorry. My English is sometimes not so good. I hope you will forgive me.”
“Of course.” Gigi smiled reassuringly.
“I will be serving the dinner so you can go sit if you would like.”
“I still need to cook the salmon,” Gigi said, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the beautiful piece of coho salmon she’d scored at the fishmonger’s. Gigi always had a basic menu plan in mind when she went shopping, but she was flexible and willing to change it according to what was best and freshest in the market. When she saw the salmon, she knew it would be perfect for Felicity and her guests.
Anja pointed at the salmon. “Lovely. In
my country we prepare it with fresh dill and a little cream.”
“I’ll have to try that someday,” Gigi said, and Anja looked pleased.
Gigi got to work spreading teriyaki glaze on the fish. She reheated the vegetables she’d prepared previously and arranged them in serving dishes. The timer on the oven pinged, and she removed the fish, placing it on a long, white platter with scalloped edges.
There wasn’t any more to be done at the moment. With a sense of relief she untied her apron, threw it across a chair and retreated to the dining room. There was an empty seat next to Alex, and Gigi slid into it. Vanessa and Don were across the table from her. Their chairs were pulled closer together than any of the others.
Anja placed the vegetable serving dishes on the table and went around to each guest with the platter of salmon. Gigi helped herself to a small piece, pleased to note that it was cooked to perfection. She glanced around the table and was relieved to see that everyone seemed to be enjoying their food.
The dozen white votives scattered around the dining table and on the sideboard flickered softly, sending shadows dancing on the walls. A low buzz of conversation floated about the room, punctuated by the gentle clink of silverware against china as the guests savored their meal.
Anja was serving the apple galette Gigi had prepared for dessert when Alex leaned toward her. “I noticed you glancing at our fellow guests earlier.” He nodded his head toward Vanessa and Don.
Gigi felt her face flame. Had it been that obvious?
“I’m sure you’re wondering, like the rest of us, what gives.” Alex stirred a spoonful of sugar into his coffee cup.
Gigi opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say.
“I’m not one for gossip, but I think the beautiful Vanessa is trying to get a leg up, so to speak, in the television business. I think she’s tired of playing second fiddle to Felicity and wants to advance her career.” The way he said it put quote marks around the word advance.
Gigi still didn’t know what to say. Especially since she’d been thinking the exact same thing herself.
