“SO, BROTHER DEAREST, what’s this about Sonya and Alan moving to the West Coast?” Deborah asked, ambushing Matt before he could shrug off his jacket. Ashley had raced in ahead of him and was nowhere in sight.
Matt inhaled deeply. He loved the smell of his parents’ home at Christmas—it smelled like family. From the sporadic cries of glee coming from the direction of the family room, Matt could tell Ashley had made contact with her cousins. Deborah had four kids—sixteen-year-old Andrew, eight-year-old Delia and the twins, Kevin and David, who were five.
“Surely you aren’t going to let Sonya get away with that,” Deborah insisted.
Matt took off his gloves and crammed them in his pockets. “Merry Christmas, sis,” he said, kissing her warm cheek. Deborah was six years older than Matt and built like their father—stocky and compact.
Never known for her tact, Deb’s blunt, cut-to-the-chase attitude had earned her the vice presidency in her union job.
“It’s nothing definite,” Matt said, taking a wooden hanger from the closet. After he closed the door, he took another step into the foyer and inhaled deeply. “I smell pumpkin pie.” His stomach rumbled. “I’ve been on the run all morning and a bag of stale nuts on the airplane just didn’t cut it. Are there any appetizers?”
Deborah waved toward the kitchen. “A zillion. But I want to know what you’re going to do about this. You can’t let Ashley go without a fight. I just read that schools in California—”
Matt cut her off by looping his arm around her shoulders and squeezing. He loved his sister, but she was famous for producing off-the-wall statistics that could never be proven. “Sis, I appreciate your concern but don’t start worrying about something that might not happen. You know what Grandpa Ross always said, ‘It’s gotta rain before there can be a flood.”’
She made a face. “I can’t help it, Matt. I’m worried about you.” She patted his cheek and sighed. “Mom thinks you’ll turn into a hermit if Ashley moves. We hardly see you as it is.”
Matt shrugged. “She’s our mother. It’s her job to worry. But I’m fine. Truly. In fact, I’m too busy to do my laundry, let alone brood.”
She looked curious. “Really? Whatcha doing? Are you seeing anybody?” Matt knew that look. Her matchmaker look. She’d set him up so many times Matt had lost count.
“I’m on a job for Bo at the moment,” he said, steering her toward the kitchen. “But I’m not at liberty to speak about it.”
“Because it’s someone famous,” Ashley said, suddenly materializing at his side. She threw her arms around his waist and hugged him fiercely. Matt slipped his free arm over her shoulder and squeezed. What will I do if Sonya moves?
“Who?” Deborah asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
“It’s a secret. She’s sick, but not rehab sick. Right, Dad?”
Matt wasn’t comfortable talking about Eve. It was bad enough that she’d stayed in his mind the whole flight home. Even when he watched Ashley complete her final series of maneuvers on her horse, Matt’s mind had been rehashing their goodbye kiss. A mistake for sure.
“She’s a celebrity. She’s been sick and needed a little help. Let’s go find the grub. I’m starved.”
Deborah balked. “No fair. Ashley knows. I wanna know.”
Matt snickered. “You sound like a five-year-old. Speaking of which, where are your kids?”
“I won’t tell anybody,” Deborah wheedled. “Please.”
“Don’t feel bad if he won’t tell you, Aunt Deb. I only know because I was eavesdropping, which—” she smiled impishly “—is a very bad thing to do. Right, Dad?”
Matt cuffed her hair lightly. “Terrible. Good thing Santa was too busy to check his list twice or you’d be out of luck this year.”
She laughed and raised on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
Deborah said, “Speaking of gifts, kiddo. Would you round up the rest of the bunch? We’re going to let each child open one gift before dinner.”
Ashley’s lips formed a perfect O. “Awesome! I know which one I want to open first. The big one from you, Dad.”
She dashed away, her long legs getting caught up in her floor-length black velvet skirt. A white satin blouse with full sleeves would have given her a Victorian look—but for the Doc Martens on her feet.
“Isn’t she something?” he asked softly.
Deborah nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “We’ll all miss her so much if she moves away. It’ll break David’s and Kevin’s hearts,” she said.
Not as badly as mine. Matt shook his head. He’d told himself he wouldn’t be melancholy. “It’s Christmas Eve, sis. Let’s just enjoy the moment. At least we’re together. We could be alone in a hospital like—” He bit off the word Eve.
Deborah jumped on his oversight. “Like who? Tell me, Matthew. I’ll make you tell. I know how to get it out of you, little brother.”
She needled him all the way to the kitchen, where Matt grabbed a plate of goodies and a glass of wine. Her pestering came close to breaking down his resolve, but the image of Eve, alone in her hospital room, solidified his silence.
Later, when the family gathered around the six-foot tree to watch the children, Eve’s secret was still safe. But how safe was the woman herself? There was still that matter of the mysterious caller she’d refused to tell Matt about.
“Daddy,” Ashley called, drawing him back to the festivities. “I’m going to open this one from you, okay?”
Matt glanced at his mother who’d been watching him with a knowing smile. He’d hear about this later. “Go for it, sweetheart.”
Wrapping paper flew, followed a moment later by a squeal of joy. “My own laptop. Oh, Daddy, thank you so much. This is so awesome.”
Matt let out a sigh of relief.
“We’ll get it plugged in while we eat and maybe you can take Grandpa online after dinner. Scare the pants off him.”
Jacob Ross—a silent, stalwart man of sixty-four—gave his son a dark look. “Hmmph.”
Ashley hugged Matt. “I love you, Daddy.”
“Me, too, hon,” he whispered, his throat tightening. “Now you can keep in touch with me no matter where you are. E-mail.” Matt tried to keep his tone light, but inside he was losing it. E-mail wasn’t even a close second to seeing her, watching her ride her big ugly horse or sharing microwave popcorn while enjoying a video. He felt like a man watching his whole life slide down a hillside. All he could do was pray there’d be a few pieces to pick up once it stopped.
“YOU’RE IN LUCK, Eve,” Joy, the night nurse, told her. They’d already joked about the irony of women with their names being stuck in a hospital on Christmas Eve. “The cook went all out—clam chowder and pecan pie. Not bad, hey?”
Eve was ravenous. She could feel her strength building each hour. After Matt left, she’d even walked to the window. “Great. So far, the food’s been wonderful. Maybe I should do a piece on five-star hospitals.”
“Public relations would love you, but some people come to us because we’re so private.” Joy set the tray on the movable table and waited while Eve positioned herself correctly.
“Like me,” Eve said softly.
Joy shrugged. “You’re not the first celebrity whose been here—won’t be the last. With an NFL team in the neighborhood, you get all kinds of calamities popping up. Don’t even ask.”
Eve smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty much out of the news business at the moment.” She spoke flippantly, but a part of her despaired at where her career was going.
“You’re kidding. I loved watching you in the morning. What are you going to do?”
Eve busied herself with tucking her napkin into the neckline of her nightgown—the nightgown Matt had found for her. She knew she was stalling but Joy waited for an answer. “I’d like to try producing. I once had an idea for a talk show for young girls. Something that would help them work on self-esteem issues.”
Joy’s brown eyes lit up. “Oh, man, could my little sister use some of that. She�
�s really into makeup and shopping, and the fashions out there make her look like either a hooker or a biker. And skinny,” she said with a shudder. “Why do they think they have to be size zero?”
She seemed to catch herself a second and a blush claimed her pudgy cheeks. “I d-didn’t mean,” she stuttered.
Eve made a backhanded gesture. “Forget it. I’m probably a subzero right now. And this is not a good size to be. Trust me. Because of my job I’ve always watched my weight, and when I got sick, I didn’t have much of a reserve to fall back on.”
Joy seemed to relax. “With your face, you could be a size twelve and men would still be interested.”
“Maybe. But that’s not necessarily a good thing.” At Joy’s look of confusion, Eve said, “Why does it always have to be about looks? I’ve traded on mine my whole life and what has it gotten me? I’m alone on Christmas Eve. What does that tell you?”
Joy made a face. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
Eve didn’t want the kind woman’s sympathy. She wanted to change things. She sat forward and drummed her fingers on her knee. “You know what I really want to do? Create a show that reaches young women. The teen years are so important, yet they’ve been reduced to a marketing target. In retail, if you’re a hit with young girls, you’ve got it made.”
“Wow,” Joy exclaimed. “You just light up when you start talking about that. I wish my sister could hear you.”
They chatted a few minutes longer then Joy returned to her rounds. Feeling restless and a tad melancholy, Eve toyed with her pie. Although she hadn’t mentioned it to Joy, Eve could pinpoint the exact minute she’d made up her mind to do a show for young girls. It started with Deeanna West’s obituary. Sixteen years old. A chubby, pimple-faced girl who’d stepped in front of an express train.
Deeanna’s story had been Eve’s first assignment after her return from Panama. Still suffering from the effects of the virus, Eve had visited Deeanna’s home. The instant she’d walked into the young girl’s bedroom, Eve had been overwhelmed by a sense of futility. From the posters on her walls to the glossy glamour magazines by her bed, it was obvious Deeanna had dreamed of an image far beyond reach.
But for the grace of God, so go I, Eve thought. Her junior-high years had been hell. Her dark, exotic features had made her stand out when all she’d wanted to do was fit in. If her mother hadn’t encouraged her to participate in her first pageant—Eve had come in third, ahead of four blond girls—who knows what might have happened?
But that had been then, and although success in the pageants had improved Eve’s self-esteem, she longed to be able to teach young women like Deeanna that beauty is way overrated. People need to be judged from the inside out, not the other way around.
The jingle of the phone startled her. Maybe it’s Matt, she thought, unable to prevent the rush of emotions that came with his name. Dumb, Eve. Give it a rest. He’s not looking for a relationship and you sure as heck shouldn’t be.
“Hello. Merry Christmas.”
“Eve!” her mother exclaimed. “We finally got through. It’s been a nightmare trying to find you. God bless Sara Bishop.”
“Hi, Mom,” Eve said, reclining her bed a few degrees. “Is Dad there with you?”
There was a slight delay in the transmission before Kathleen Masterson’s answer came across the line. “He’s right here beside me. Sara said you’re doing great, honey. Do you need us to come back?”
“No, Mom. I’m fine. Really I am.”
Her father’s booming laugh caught her in the middle of the chest with the impact of a Ford truck. “That’s my girl. Your mother was going bonkers, but I told her you were made of sturdy stuff like your old man. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
Like your old man… Eve didn’t usually dwell on the past, her fate, her adoption. But this near-death experience had changed her somehow.
“I feel good, but I’ve had a lot of time on my hands and I got to thinking…if you had it to do over again, would you still adopt me?”
In the two-second transmission delay, Eve’s heart constricted to the size of a pea. Her lungs couldn’t fill with air and she felt woozy.
“Oh, Eve, we’re coming back right this minute. I knew we should have come as soon we found out you were sick. If you have to ask me something like that then you’re in worse shape then you let on and you need your parents.”
The answer had come in one long breath and Eve smiled, her own breath releasing with a sigh. “No, Mom. It’s okay. Really. Don’t come. You and Dad have waited your whole lives for this trip. I was just having weird dreams and then there were a few calls on my machine from…you know who.”
Her mother let out an impatient snort. “I wish that woman would give up and disappear. Just ignore her, Eve. You’re our beautiful little girl and we love you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Even if I’m not beautiful anymore?
Her parents broke into an off-key Christmas carol that made Eve smile, then they both told her goodbye. Blinking back tears, she replaced the receiver.
Joy came in a few minutes later to collect Eve’s tray. “Have a piece of candy? Your fiancé left a big box of See’s candy at the nurses’ station.”
She and Eve shared a smile. Eve had told them Matt wasn’t truly her fiancé. “By the way, where is he tonight?” Joy asked.
“In New York with his family. He has a twelve-year-old daughter.”
“Really? Is he divorced?”
Eve nodded.
Joy made a thoughtful sound. “Do you like kids?”
“Are you none-too-subtly playing matchmaker?”
“Hey, the guy’s crazy about you. He brought you a tree. I’ve never had a man even offer to help me decorate a tree. Do you know how special that is?”
Eve knew. But the truth was he was in New York and she was here. Alone.
That word annoyed her. It kept popping up trying to spoil the mood she was trying to maintain. She picked up the remote control and turned on the television. Maybe with any luck, she could find a cheerful holiday movie—preferably something that didn’t include hearth, home and family.
She flicked through the stations—right past It’s A Wonderful Life and the ubiquitous Miracle on 34th Street. She settled on a Hollywood gossip show because she thought there was a chance someone she knew might be having a worse holiday than she was.
Absently staring at the muted screen, she nearly choked on her chocolate treat when a familiar face caught her eye. Matt? The grainy black and white image obviously was taken with a telescopic lens. Eve’s apartment building was in the background. In Matt’s arms was a bundled form with a pair of life-less-looking feet dangling over one arm.
“Oh, no,” she groaned, flopping back on her pillow.
She hit the volume button. The commentator—a woman Eve once met at a fashion dinner came back on the screen. “Who this mystery man is is anybody’s guess. Where he took Eve Masterson also remains a mystery. A spokesperson for Communitex, the Internet giant that reportedly hired Eve Masterson away from this station two months ago, told Spotlight on Celebs that Ms. Masterson’s whereabouts was a mystery to him. As far as he knew, Eve was on sick leave. A mysterious illness, perhaps? Until we find Mr. Mystery Man, it will remain just that—a mystery.”
“Quality journalism,” Eve snarled. “Five frigging lines and you used the word mystery six times.”
Her head began to throb as adrenaline flooded her system. Her pulse raced. Was this Barry’s handiwork? Maybe he figured that by starting a firestorm of bad publicity around her he could deflect from himself any blame for her nonappearance as Communitex’s star.
She grabbed the phone. Maybe she couldn’t save herself, but she sure as heck could warn Matt. She hated to interrupt his Christmas with his family, but she’d never forgive herself if some reporter showed up on his doorstep and she hadn’t given him some kind of heads-up.
She punched in the number he’d scribbled on the back of his business c
ard.
“Ross residence. Deborah speaking.”
Matt’s sister. Eve took a breath and asked for Matt. The woman called him to the phone. “Hello?”
“Matt, it’s Eve.” She hated the breathless quality in her voice. Her heart wouldn’t stay steady. “Something’s come up. Barry’s dirty work, I imagine.”
He listened attentively while she explained about the show and the possible fallout that might come from it. “I’m going home in the morning,” she said. “I won’t feel—”
He interrupted. “Did your doctor give you the okay?”
“Not yet, but he will. I know my body, Matt. I’m on the mend. I can feel it.”
“Aren’t you the same person who refused to see a doctor because you knew your body and thought you could fix it yourself?”
Eve’s face grew warm. “Hey, this is still Christmas Eve, Mr. Ross. Watch the attitude or Santa will put a lump of coal in your stocking.”
Matt cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t called for. But this sounds like a rash move, Eve. The hospital deals with security issues all the time. They’ll keep you safe until I get back.”
Eve liked the sound of that, but she wasn’t some needy child, and for some reason it was important to make Matt believe that. “Don’t worry, Matt. I’ll hire a private nurse, if the doctor insists. I’d just feel safer at my apartment. Barry told me it was a veritable fortress. Nobody can get in without permission, so once I get home, I’ll be safe.”
“And we all believe everything Barry has to say,” Matt said snidely.
Eve rolled her eyes. “I read the brochure. The security system at my building is state-of-the-art. Now, get back to your family and have a wonderful holiday. If you still want to come back and check up on me, you know where to find me. Tell your mom I said hi.” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “Bye.”
She put the phone back on the nightstand and let out a long, slow sigh. She’d made up her mind and knew what she had to do.
Half a dozen calls later, the plan was in motion. Exhausted, Eve turned off the lights and snuggled beneath the covers. She rolled to her side to gaze at her little Christmas tree. The miniature white lights sparkled like fireflies.
Something About Eve Page 11
