The Champagne Sisterhood

by Chris Keniston

  Mark watched Anna turn her attention to Sid, then blink a few times. He knew too well the images she was probably trying to wash away.

  “But you do agree they are a threat?” Anna asked.

  “I’m not who you have to worry about.”

  “What about the doctor and nurse who heard Babs say she didn’t want them to have Marcia?”

  “Them could have been anyone,” Sid said.

  “She wasn’t strong enough to speak, but when we asked her if them was Social Services she managed to curl her finger under - her signal for no. I think based on this new information, her choice of the word safe should be of particular interest.”

  “What you or I think, and what we can convince a court of, are two different things. I’m not going to kid you. Getting the courts to deny custody to a blood relative is a hard sell, but we may be able to put enough doubt in the judge’s mind to buy us some time. If we’re lucky, the court appointed psychologist will figure out they’re crazy as loons and save us a lot of time and trouble.”

  Anna scooted to the edge of her seat. “And if they don’t?”

  “We could have one hell of a fight on our hands.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  He’d done the right thing. He had no choice. I’m sorry, guys, he glanced heavenward, I can’t risk the courts giving Marcia to those animals.

  “That was quick.” Kat hiked her purse onto her shoulder.

  “I only needed another minute with Sid. Sorry to have you wait.”

  Kat nodded. “No problem. Even in the fog there’s something special about San Francisco.”

  Though she could no longer see the bay from the ground level, Anna’s gaze was still riveted somewhere off in the distance. “This is going to be a bitch isn’t it?”

  Sid had the entire history and Mark was counting on him to make these horrid people just go away. “Sid’s a good lawyer. It’ll all be okay.”

  “How could she have been so careless knowing monsters like that were lurking out there under a rock? All it would have taken was a simple decree naming anyone else guardian and we’d be free of these people.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Mark glanced over Anna’s shoulder at the gray water. “Now that they know about Marcia, there’s a lot more at stake than just custody.”

  “Is this why you want Marcia with me in New York? To stop them from having any influence on her?”

  “Partly.”

  A breeze blew in from the cool bay and Kat brushed away the chill.

  “It’s getting cold. Let’s get out of here.” Mark nudged Kat toward the parking lot. “Maybe things won’t look so ominous in a warm office.”

  Anna looked up at him. “Right. Maybe.”

  “Look at her. Not a care in the world. Buried in a mountain of toys and loving it.” From where Anna stood in the doorway of Mark’s office she could see Marcia in the playpen.

  Anna reminded Mark of a small child standing off by the edge of the playground waiting for the little girl in the sandbox to invite her to come play, saddened at the thought the invitation might never come.

  She drew in a deep breath. The sadness in her eyes eased into determination. “We have to do something. We can’t let those people have her.”

  “Now you understand why I didn’t want them to learn of their granddaughter. I thought the fewer people who knew they even existed, the better.” Mark resisted the temptation to get up and walk over by Anna’s side. The hurt hiding behind her strong veneer made him want to wrap himself around her and protect her from every painful emotion. It was only normal for him to want to take care of her. Since the dawn of time, an inherent part of male genetics has been to protect the clan. Her sagging shoulders and crestfallen expression would summon those protective instincts in any man. This wasn’t personal. He would do the same for any woman in her position. And maybe if he repeated that often enough, he might even begin to believe it.

  Sitting across from Mark, Kat shifted her attention from Anna to the baby and back. “Well, at least it explains why you kept cussing every time the news flashed a photo of Tom and Babs while mentioning the funeral.”

  “If only I had thought of closing ranks sooner.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for what’s broadcast on TV.” Anna turned her attention back to Mark, plopping herself heavily in the oversized wingback near the window. “So, what do we do now?”

  “Sid has it covered. I gave him all the information he needs.”

  “Yeah, but no matter how many names and dates he has, for every witness we produce who says they’re fanatical menaces, perverting Christianity, they’ll produce witnesses to contradict, insisting they’re good, church-going people. We need more.”

  “I know.” He’d already given Sid all the info he needed to keep these people away forever. He had no choice. Barb and Tom would understand. If all went the way Sid expected, in a few weeks this would be behind them and it wouldn’t matter a flip how many witnesses they all produced.

  Anna sat wringing her fingers in her lap, her expression tired. It looked to him as though she’d lost weight. Pounds she didn’t need to lose. Sid’s advice had been to remain quiet, go through the motions, wait for him to do his job. Soon he’d never have to worry about the Prescotts again and all would remain the way Barb and Tom wanted it to be. But he hated putting the women through this, putting Anna through this. Having her worry about the Prescotts was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid. The familiar twinge of doubt invaded his thoughts, but he’d come this far. He would give Sid the time he asked for.

  Anna leaned forward, ready to speak just as Marcia began to fuss- loudly. “Damn, I wish she’d let me near her.”

  “I’ll go.”

  “Let me try...one more time.” Anna pushed to her feet and turned toward the door.

  Briskly, she walked with a confidence Mark knew she didn’t feel. She waved off his secretary who was almost at Marcia’s side. “Hi, Sweetie.” Her voice dropped to the level of a soft lullaby. “Have you had enough? Ready to go home?”

  In what seemed like slow motion to Mark, Anna lightly brushed her fingers through Marcia’s fine locks. For a split moment, he thought everything was going to be fine. Marcia seemed to accept her godmother’s gentle gesture of affection. Then, as soon as Anna bent over to pick her up, Marcia’s lower lip trembled seconds before her desperate cry pierced the tension-filled room. Mark pushed away from his desk, rose to his feet and was out the door in a flash.

  “I’m sorry,” he mouthed to Anna, lifting the baby into his arms. The longing in Anna’s eyes nearly broke his heart.

  “I’ll wait for you in your office.” Anna bit her lip and turned away. Inside Mark’s office she silently slipped into the chair across from Kat.

  “She’ll come around.” Kat offered a reassuring smile.

  “Mm.” She tried to smile back.

  “We should call Erin. She’ll want to know what’s going on.”

  “Yeah, but I’d rather wait till the end of classes. No sense in ruining her day too.” Anna sprang up from the seat she’d barely sunk into and walked back to the doorway. Drawn like a magnet to metal shavings, she watched Mark soothe his upset goddaughter. She’s so beautiful. Anna hated seeing those bright blue eyes filled with tears.

  “I guess you’re right. It won’t make much difference if we wait a few more hours to call Erin.” Kat agreed. “But what about Harrison? He might have some connections.”

  The last person Anna wanted to talk to now was Harrison, but Kat was right. He’d be wasting whatever resources he had chasing down people she already knew were legitimately Marcia’s grandparents. What she needed was to prove they were dangerous to the health of a child, and heaven help her, that even she would be a better guardian.

  Stepping back, she dropped into the chair beside Kat and hit seven on the speed dial.

  “I’m on my way to a meeting. Is it important?” Harrison’s voice carried across the room with the same booming resonance as always. />
  “It’s true. Howard and Amanda really are Tom’s parents but they’re dangerous as hell.” As quickly as she could, with him rushing her at every word, she filled him in on the key points.

  “Basically what you’re telling me is as long as the baby doesn’t grow up to sleep around or kiss boys, she’ll probably be fine?”

  “No!” Anna heard a car door slam shut in the background. “I’m saying we have to prove we’re the better guardians.”

  “No way. Too much trouble. This has scandal written all over it. I don’t want any part of it. Turn the kid over and get home. Desmond will figure out some way to smooth it all over.”

  “Just like that? Turn her over like a bag of groceries?” Before she could say another word, a sharp tone beeped in her ear. Pulling the phone away she read the caller ID. “Hold on. Liz is calling. I need to take this a minute.”

  “No. I’m at Desmond’s office now. You’ve done your best. Listen to me and come home now. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.” The bustling background sounds of city traffic stopped short as he hung up the phone.

  Another beep.

  “Yes!” she answered more sharply than she’d meant to.

  “I found it,” Liz whispered.

  “What?” Anna lowered her voice.

  “Junior’s paper trail. It’s all here.”

  “Liz,” Anna whispered more quietly. “Where are you?”

  “At Junior’s. It’s all right here in his home computer. It wasn’t even password protected.”

  “You broke into his house?” Her voice shot up several octaves.

  Kat jerked her attention back to Anna.

  “Shh,” Liz whispered again.

  Though Anna had no idea why she needed to be quiet too, she lowered her voice. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

  “There’s no worries. There’s a major pow-wow in Daddy’s office. I’ll never be missed.”

  “What’s the meeting about?” Her spine stiffened, as she momentarily forgot her secretary was breaking and entering.

  “Not sure, but Barry’s sitting in on it.”

  “Big brother?” Anna had only met the man twice in the years she’d worked for Nobel’s. Daddy’s eldest son with the first Mrs. Peterson was senior partner at Peterson, Shaw and Cohen, the largest CPA firm in the city. “This can’t be good.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I remembered from the company barbecue Junior hosted last year that his only security system was his two Dobermans.”

  “Oh, no. You didn’t?” Anna sank further into the chair.

  “Of course not. Chopped liver.”

  “What?”

  “Last year, the dogs and I made friends over chopped liver. So today I brought a couple pounds for each of them. They remembered me.”

  “For now.” Visions of the next five o’clock news headline flashed before her eyes. Executive secretary mauled to death at fashion mogul’s Westchester County home.

  “No, really, they’re fine. Trixie is sitting at my feet and Dixie is guarding the door.” Liz giggled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s acting as my lookout.”

  “Oh, God,” Anna moaned.

  “What’s the matter?” Mark strode into the room with Marcia on his arm and a deep furrow between his brows.

  “Liz,” Kat mouthed silently.

  “Oh,” he mouthed back.

  “If I’m understanding correctly,” Kat whispered to him. “I think she broke into Junior’s house, but I’m not sure why?”

  “I wonder if insanity is contagious?” Shaking his head, he took a seat behind his desk and handed Marcia an empty leather pencil holder to gnaw on.

  “Liz, whatever you think you’ve found it’s not worth risking prison.” Anna stole a glance in Mark’s direction. Marcia always looked so content in his arms. “Listen to me, Liz, and listen carefully. I want you to stop whatever you’re doing and get the hell out of there. Now!... Liz?... Liz?” Anna glared at the phone. “Damn!”

  “Now what’s wrong?” The furrow in Mark’s brow grew impossibly deeper.

  “Dead battery. I’ve been so distracted I forgot to charge it last night.” She dragged her fingers through her shoulder length hair and scratched the back of her head in rough broad strokes, sending her hair flying in every direction. “Damn it, Liz.”

  “What exactly did she say?” Mark shifted Marcia to his other knee.

  “Trixie and Dixie, Junior’s Dobermans, still like chopped liver.” Anna continued to stare at the dead phone as though she could will the battery back to life.

  “What?” Kat asked.

  “She broke into Junior’s house by giving his Dobermans chopped liver. Now she’s hacking away at his computer. Thinks she’s found the answers to what Junior is up to.”

  Lifting one side of her upper lip, Kat managed a halfhearted smile that resembled a snarl more than a grin. “Well, that’s a little good news. Isn’t it?”

  “Looks like we’re on our own, girls.” Liz watched the little yellow folders rotate over and over on the screen. “Last file and I’m going to have to go. It’s been nice visiting again.”

  Scratching the dog’s ear she glanced around the room one last time. If he didn’t hire a designer, then his taste in furnishings was a world apart from his taste in fashion. The feel of the room was most definitely masculine. Floor to ceiling books. Dark ornate woodwork. The caramel colored leather furniture looked well worn and comfortable, not stiff and staged. Even the hunting scene tapestry with its dark royal tones seemed to soften the room. Though the eight-foot stuffed Kodiak bear standing in the corner looking ready to devour any intruder might have been a touch too much masculinity. As a matter of fact, she looked from the windows to the doorway. “How the hell did they get you in here?” No matter. Such a waste. Nice house, nice dogs, and the owner is an A-class jerk. Not even the good sense to password protect his shenanigans.

  “Wait till Daddy gets this email. Won’t Junior have a hard time denying the truth when they trace the email to his own computer?”

  It felt good to laugh. She wondered briefly what Daddy would do. Would he finally catch on and boot the incompetent, mooching jerk out on his greedy ass, or would he go so far as to hang him out to dry and let the courts take over?

  No. Money always kept money to themselves. Cutting Junior off without a dime with no clue where he’d get the money for his next filet mignon would be far worse than prison with three square meals a day. Especially the kind of prison Junior would wind up in. More like a three star country club. No, Daddy would definitely cut him loose.

  The little window on the screen closed. “Okay. Ladies, that’s it. Done.”

  When she’d first sneaked in through the skimpy patio door she could hear the tattoo of her pulse pounding in her head. She’d almost choked at the feel of her heart stuck in her throat. By the time Trixie and Dixie came scrambling around the corner, teeth bared, growling like junkyard guard dogs, she came within inches of peeing in her pants.

  What the hell had she been thinking? She really needed to stop watching those middle of the night Thin Man classic movies. At least she’d dressed appropriately in a lovely pair of Versace black silk slacks and a Madam Nobel black long sleeve blouse. She’d even sprung for a pair of black running shoes- just in case. Like she could really outrun the dogs. Adding a pair of sleek fitting driving gloves, the outfit had been complete.

  If the chopped liver hadn’t done the trick, she’d have had a heck of a time explaining to her dry cleaner why an otherwise normally stable adult female had soiled her clothes. Who was she kidding? If the chopped liver hadn’t won over the dogs, the coroner wouldn’t give a hoot about the state of her wardrobe.

  Making a mental list, she made sure all her bases were covered. She’d emailed all the pertinent data to Daddy. It still boggled her mind what a moron Junior really was. The man not only reserved his flight to San Francisco and back in his own name, but he paid the Fed Ex bill for the counter-orders with his
corporate credit card. How stupid could one crook be? Slipping the USB drive into her glove, she winked at the dogs and started for the door.

  She hadn’t made it halfway down the first hall when she realized Trixie and Dixie were both at her heels. “Chaperones?” She giggled. “You guys are too much. I bet you don’t like him much either, do ya?” She patted the two dogs on the head and wished she’d thought to bring more treats.

  Tiptoeing the rest of the way, careful not to touch anything, she almost tumbled down the back stairs when Trixie, or was it Dixie, trotted past her, back arched and fur bristled, the dog stopped short on the step in front of her. The sound of the low rumbling growl siphoned all the oxygen from Liz’s lungs.

  “Wha-at is it, girl?” she stammered, unsure if the dog was still protecting her or if the euphoria of the chopped liver had finally warn off. The next thing she knew, Dixie... Definitely Dixie- she had an amoeba-shaped blotch of brown on her rump - galloped off to the kitchen door, growling and barking.

  Taking a chance, she leaned forward and peered around the staircase wall. Shit! A car rolled into the porte-cochere. “Now what?”

  Trixie turned awkwardly on the narrow step and raced back upstairs. Ignoring the dog now at the top of the staircase, Liz watched Dixie barking up a storm at the kitchen door. Within seconds, a short rotund woman with salt and pepper hair pushed the door open.

  “Oh my,” she said as Dixie began to skip and jump, running circles around the woman’s ankles. “Whatever has gotten into you?”

  In that moment Liz heard Trixie woof softly from the top of the stairs, and she’d swear, as though saying C’mon. This way, tip her head toward the other end of the hall. “I shouldn’t have watched all those Lassie reruns. This is probably crazy. Following the dog.” She shook her head, padding softly up the steps. What other choice did she have?

  At the other end of the hall, Trixie nudged a large french door open and scampered into the room. Liz had never been this far into the house before. Hell, she didn’t even know the house had a billiard room. Lush wood-paneled walls, honey oak parquet floors, the place looked like the set of a Hollywood high society movie.