Charming Lily (10 page)
Authors: Fern Michaels
When she was finally able to move and open her eyes, she had no sense of time. How long had she been standing by the sink? The coffee was done perking. How long did that take? Two minutes? Three? Maybe five? Longer? She simply didn't know.
Lily walked on wobbly legs over to the kitchen table. She needed to get a grip on things, get grounded as Matt always said. Matt said so many things. How could you do this to me? Where are you? She felt tearful, anxious now. Something beyond her control was happening to her. What? Matt always used to say, throw it out to the universe and see what comes back.
Throw what out? My thoughts? My worries? Maybe I need to go to the doctor's to see if I have a brain tumor.
“What's happening?” she wailed.
Throw what out? My thoughts? My worries? Maybe I need to go to the doctor's to see if I have a brain tumor.
“What's happening?” she wailed.
“We brought all kinds of good stuff,” Sadie bellowed from the doorway. Sadie always bellowed now. She said it had something to do with shouting and yelling at the newbies at Ozzie's camp. Lily didn't believe it then, and she didn't believe it now. She stared at her friend. “It happened again.”
“What happened? You mean you saw something else. That makes three times in one day. Maybe we should talk to a shrink or something.”
“What brings it on?” Dennis asked.
Lily shrugged. “Nothing. I was just standing by the sink waiting for the coffee to finish. I was thinking about Matt. I'm always thinking about Matt, so if that's a trigger, then that's my answer.”
Lily watched as Sadie pulled plates and silverware from the cabinets. The food smelled wonderful. She realized she was starving. She shrugged as she reached for one of the white cartons. “This is what I saw this time, but there was something different. I heard noise. Humming actually. I saw Matt's sneaker, the one with the big hole in the toe. He would no more part with that sneaker than he would part with Gracie. He's had those same sneakers since he was in high school. They smell so bad. He wears Odor Eaters inside, but they don't help. I saw the words
Lulu's Bait Shack.
That's the lettering on his baseball cap that he always wears. He'd never, ever part with that cap either. I thought I heard the words Charming Lily. Then the humming. Matt always called me Charming Lily. That's it. Can either one of you make sense out of this? Dennis, you're closest to the coffeepot, so pour us a cup.”
Lulu's Bait Shack.
That's the lettering on his baseball cap that he always wears. He'd never, ever part with that cap either. I thought I heard the words Charming Lily. Then the humming. Matt always called me Charming Lily. That's it. Can either one of you make sense out of this? Dennis, you're closest to the coffeepot, so pour us a cup.”
“I'm sorry to say I'm not up on this
otherworld
stuff,” Dennis said.
otherworld
stuff,” Dennis said.
“Me either,” Sadie said, biting into a fat tamale.
“You both know how Matt always said, let's throw it out to the universe and see what comes back. That's what I did and then I had that . . . that . . . whatever it was.”
“Yeah, yeah, Matt always said that and it pissed Marcus off big-time. When Matt would do it, he'd sit down and contemplate his big toe and wait for things to happen. Something always happened. Usually it was related to work. Matt would laugh and give Marcus the evil eye. I don't think Matt liked Marcus very much. He never
said
he didn't like him, it's just my own impression. Marcus's contract is up in April. The same time he has to relocate. I think that's pretty meaningful considering all the things that are going on. Don't you?”
said
he didn't like him, it's just my own impression. Marcus's contract is up in April. The same time he has to relocate. I think that's pretty meaningful considering all the things that are going on. Don't you?”
“Marcus has a contract. I didn't know that,” Lily said, her eyes round with surprise.
“We all have contracts. Mine is the only one that is different. The others are your standard three-year contracts all the companies use. Mine reads
lifetime
. That means I'm part of Digitech until the day I die. Marcus found out a while back and from that point on, he put out a hate on me. Subtly but insidiously if you know what I mean. Matt knows because we talked about it. From the time we were little kids, we confided in one another. No secrets to our friendship. That's how I know he loved you, Lily. With all his heart. He told me he dreamed about you every night. He wouldn't leave you standing at the altar. That simply is not who he is today. He was beside himself that he couldn't spend Christmas with you, but he accepted that because he had the rest of his life to be with you.”
lifetime
. That means I'm part of Digitech until the day I die. Marcus found out a while back and from that point on, he put out a hate on me. Subtly but insidiously if you know what I mean. Matt knows because we talked about it. From the time we were little kids, we confided in one another. No secrets to our friendship. That's how I know he loved you, Lily. With all his heart. He told me he dreamed about you every night. He wouldn't leave you standing at the altar. That simply is not who he is today. He was beside himself that he couldn't spend Christmas with you, but he accepted that because he had the rest of his life to be with you.”
Lily struggled with her emotions. “I learned something about myself today. All I care about is that Matt is safe and well. Yes, I was hurt, yes, I was humiliated, but that no longer matters. Love is wanting the other person to be well, happy, and, above all, safe. If he did stand me up, I'll live with it. Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely,” Sadie and Dennis said in unison.
Chapter Five
It was a bedroom worthy of a centerfold in
Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,
designed by Kathy Molizon, an interior decorator Betsy had met while vacationing in Hilton Head, South Carolina. She'd thrown tantrum after tantrum until her husband agreed to fly in the designer to decorate their apartment. The bedroom suite was the room Betsy bragged about to her friends, making sure to include the fact that the Charleston designer had come all the way from South Carolina just for her. “Just give me European flavor,” Betsy had said. “I want to be the envy of all my friends.” The designer had done just that. The walls were painted in a warm stonelike finish to give off a castlelike feeling, right down to the large medallion that was delicately stained in the middle of the floor. The bed tucks inside the recessed wall were detailed with triple cast-stone arches that echoed the arched shape of the windows and doors. The windows were hung with elegant silk that bunched at the floor, where inlaid detail abounded and surrounded the room. Luxurious button-tufted dupioni silk bedcoverings were accented with silk pillows that rested against a quilted chenille headboard. Deep pile carpeting, a shade darker than the stone-colored walls, hugged the ankles and rose up to meet the even darker brocade draperies in the dressing room. The swags themselves were works of art, as were the coverings on the chaise longues. At first glance it looked like a woman's bedroom. On second glance it looked like it didn't belong to anyone and was just waiting for the right occupant to enter. Nothing was out of place, not a hair, not a speck of powder, not a hairpin. The furniture was pecan and polished to a high sheen, with mirrors on the sides of both extra long his-and-her dressers. Betsy Collins wanted to see the
all of her
from every angle. Kathy had argued that it was too much, but Betsy held firm since, she said, she was the one signing the checks. Kathy had also expressed serious doubt about the sculpture in the lefthand corner of the master suiteâa mermaid rising from the sea. Betsy's response was, the antique dealer had said the mermaid bore a striking resemblance to Betsy herself, and she was keeping it, again reminding Kathy who was writing out the checks. The same checks Kathy was still waiting for, thirteen months later. The bottom line: Betsy Collins didn't pay her bills.
Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,
designed by Kathy Molizon, an interior decorator Betsy had met while vacationing in Hilton Head, South Carolina. She'd thrown tantrum after tantrum until her husband agreed to fly in the designer to decorate their apartment. The bedroom suite was the room Betsy bragged about to her friends, making sure to include the fact that the Charleston designer had come all the way from South Carolina just for her. “Just give me European flavor,” Betsy had said. “I want to be the envy of all my friends.” The designer had done just that. The walls were painted in a warm stonelike finish to give off a castlelike feeling, right down to the large medallion that was delicately stained in the middle of the floor. The bed tucks inside the recessed wall were detailed with triple cast-stone arches that echoed the arched shape of the windows and doors. The windows were hung with elegant silk that bunched at the floor, where inlaid detail abounded and surrounded the room. Luxurious button-tufted dupioni silk bedcoverings were accented with silk pillows that rested against a quilted chenille headboard. Deep pile carpeting, a shade darker than the stone-colored walls, hugged the ankles and rose up to meet the even darker brocade draperies in the dressing room. The swags themselves were works of art, as were the coverings on the chaise longues. At first glance it looked like a woman's bedroom. On second glance it looked like it didn't belong to anyone and was just waiting for the right occupant to enter. Nothing was out of place, not a hair, not a speck of powder, not a hairpin. The furniture was pecan and polished to a high sheen, with mirrors on the sides of both extra long his-and-her dressers. Betsy Collins wanted to see the
all of her
from every angle. Kathy had argued that it was too much, but Betsy held firm since, she said, she was the one signing the checks. Kathy had also expressed serious doubt about the sculpture in the lefthand corner of the master suiteâa mermaid rising from the sea. Betsy's response was, the antique dealer had said the mermaid bore a striking resemblance to Betsy herself, and she was keeping it, again reminding Kathy who was writing out the checks. The same checks Kathy was still waiting for, thirteen months later. The bottom line: Betsy Collins didn't pay her bills.
Marcus looked at his beautiful wife and felt faint stirrings of desire. He did his best to squelch them since the bed was already made and his wife was wearing makeup. Those two things plus the calculating look in his wife's eyes told him he would need to look elsewhere if he wanted his desires fed. Betsy Collins liked her sex standing up so she wouldn't mess up her hair, her clothing, or her makeup. The words
trophy wife
ricocheted inside his head. Weird as it was, he did love Betsy. He jerked at the tie he was trying to knot around his neck. “When will the girls be back?” he barked.
trophy wife
ricocheted inside his head. Weird as it was, he did love Betsy. He jerked at the tie he was trying to knot around his neck. “When will the girls be back?” he barked.
“Not till the tenth. You know that, Marcus, so why are you asking again? Is this a prelude to another fight?”
Was it? Probably. He stared across the room at his wife and sixteen other images of her in all the mirrors. Where in the hell was she going at seven o'clock in the morning? he asked.
“To the Golden Door, sweetheart. There's nothing to keep me here. The girls are on the school ski trip, you work till midnight. Why should I sit around this apartment twiddling my thumbs? I've put on two pounds during the holiday, so I need to take them off. Do you have a problem with this, Marcus?”
Her tone clearly said he better not have a problem with it.
“Actually, I do, Betsy. You aren't going to the Golden Door. Where you're going is Oregon to pick out a house for us. This is not negotiable, so get that through your head. We need to be moved in and settled before April 1. Like it or not, we're going to Oregon.”
Betsy stamped her feathered mule on the floor. Two feathers shook loose and flew upward. Marcus watched them with clinical interest. He knew his wife would bend down and pick them up the minute they landed. She wouldn't want her perfect carpeting to have feathers on it. “I told you, Marcus, we aren't moving. You can go if you want to, but I'm staying here.”
“No, that won't work.” He adjusted his tie, then stretched his neck. “Digitech stresses family. If we want to remain a part of the company, then this family, of which I am the breadwinner, must relocate. You knew this was coming. Now it's official. I'm selling this apartment. The Hampton house is mortgaged to the hilt. We have to sell it, too. The boat will have to go also. It takes megabucks to operate, bucks we don't have. If Matt doesn't renew my contract, we are out in the cold, sweetie. Since it looks like he's taken a powder, that leaves Dennis in charge. And since Dennis hates my guts, I'd say it's safe to assume things could go either way. Moving to Oregon will show I'm a team player as well as a family man. What's left of my stock options won't last forever. You won't be able to live this lifestyle. That means the kids come out of private school. We buy down on our cars. I can see you in a Honda Civic, Betsy. No more fifty-thousand-dollar vacations. You'll be shopping at Walmart pretty soon.” Her horrified look pleased him. “It won't be so easy to find another job. New employers want to know why you left your previous job. Are you getting the picture, Betsy?”
“Don't threaten me, Marcus. You know what will happen if you do that. I'll walk right out of here and half of all those stock options and half of your pension will be mine.”
There it was, the thing he most feared. He could feel his insides start to shrivel. He backed down, his voice contrite. “I'm not saying it will happen. I said it could happen. I'll look for properties on the Net today. They have videos available. Maybe we can buy it that way.” He wondered what he was going to use for money for the down payment. They were so far in hock he felt light-headed each time he thought about it. At one time their bank accounts had been robust. Now their nine credit cards were maxed out. All Betsy did was buy, buy, buy, spend, spend, spend. He looked at his gray hair in all the different mirrors.
Desire flooded through him again when Betsy let the satin robe drop to the floor. She had a beautiful body. High, rounded breasts, narrow waistline, flat stomach and gorgeous legs. Chiseled. Sculpted. Cold and frosty. Where did all that hot blood that ran in her veins in the beginning go? “How much did that underwear cost?” he blurted. “It's very sexy.”
“Two hundred dollars.”
Marcus gasped. There was so little material in either the bra or the panties he could stuff them in his ears and still have room. It also occurred to him to wonder if someone other than himself ever saw her underwear. He didn't mean to voice the question but somehow the words tumbled out of his mouth. He apologized immediately. Then he said, “We're broke, Betsy. That's the reason you can't go to the Golden Door.”
“Well, if we're broke, then you better find a way to get some money because I'm going. Cash in those options of yours. I'm not changing my lifestyle. This is what you promised me, and this is what I expect. Don't switch up now, Marcus. I will ignore your previous comment and pretend you never said it. If I have to acknowledge it, then you won't like the results. Why don't you do some consulting work? I understand the rewards are handsome. You do see where I'm coming from, don't you, dear?”
He bit down on his tongue so he wouldn't have to tell her how many of his stock options he'd already turned in just to keep her happy. Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach as he watched her image in all the mirrors. She would be the death of him yet.
Would the end justify the means? He started to feel sicker, so sick, he rushed to the bathroom and lost his breakfast. He brushed his teeth, aware of his wife's eyes on him.
“Don't forget to leave the housekeeper and nanny their checks, Marcus. I hate it when you forget.”
Shit. Now he was going to have to stop at the safe-deposit box and cash in some of the kids' savings bonds meant for college, deposit the money, and come back home to pay the help and write out a check for Betsy and the Golden Door. How had he been reduced to this? Stealing his kids' college money made him a thief. The end
would
have to justify the means. He couldn't keep on living like this.
would
have to justify the means. He couldn't keep on living like this.
It was ten-thirty when Marcus climbed into a taxi for the second time in as many hours. He started to shake when the cell phone rang. He broke out in a sweat but managed to pick it up on the sixth ring. He deliberately made his voice brisk and professional sounding. “Marcus Collins,” he said by way of greeting.
“And how are you on this fine, wintry morning?” the voice on the other end of the phone asked politely.
“As good as can be expected. And you?” Marcus queried, stalling for time.
“Just fine. I heard on the news this morning that Digitech has postponed their announcement. Do you mind telling me why, since I have a vested interest in this information?”
“As you know, Dennis Wagner is acting CEO when Matt is unavailable. I guess he decided to wait. That's all I can tell you. I might know more when I get to the office.”
“And the other . . . we still don't have the last part of the ... transaction. We were very generous in our upfront gift.”
Marcus felt his stomach start to roil. He thought he could taste his own bile. “Dennis has the last . . . what you need. I can't force his hand. The timing is all wrong right now. I told you this just the other day.”
“Then perhaps we should cancel our business. You refund the advance, and we'll call it a day.”
Like he had half a million dollars. He'd just stolen his kids' college money to pay for their nanny, and this asshole expected him to cough up half a million dollars. He almost lost it then. He forced a laugh even though he felt like crying. What the hell, he had nothing to lose now. “If that's what you want, it's fine with me. I realize now my price was far too low. Savarone offered me three times as much. I was going to call you later today to tell you that. What's it going to be? I'm almost to the office. Match Savarone, give me some extra time, be patient, and it's yours. I'm too old to dick around like this.”
“How much time?”
“At least a few days. Matt's out of touch right now. Three days, maybe four. Maybe I'll only need one. I just ' don't know. It's the best I can do. You willing to match Savarone?”
“Yeah. Same deal.”
“Okay.”
Marcus paid the driver. The minute he got out of the cab, he took great gulping breaths of air to ward off the dizziness he was feeling.
What the hell kind of monster had he turned into?
A thirty-million-dollar one.
And, how long will that last? Provided I get away with it
. He started to feel sick again as he stomped his way through the lobby to the elevator that would take him to the eighteenth floor.
And, how long will that last? Provided I get away with it
. He started to feel sick again as he stomped his way through the lobby to the elevator that would take him to the eighteenth floor.
“This is all your fucking fault, Matt,” he grumbled to himself as he jabbed at the elevator button. “It's all your stinking fault.”
Â
Â
It was dark again. He could tell by the smells around him that he wasn't in the same place. He lay perfectly still, straining to hear the voices from the next room. He wished he didn't feel so
woozy
. He was too tense, too wired, too out of it to know what he was feeling other than scared that his life might suddenly come to an end. He needed to relax and turn his head. Maybe shaking it would clear it. He also needed to breathe normally. All easier said than done. He wished he knew what day it was, how long he'd been out. When were these jerks finally going to make a decision as to what they were going to do? Who the hell were they anyway? They didn't act like professional criminals, even though they had found and confiscated his cell phone, but more like bungling, we-make-the-rules-as-we-go-along amateurs. Just his damn luck. He thought about Lily and Gracie. The two loves of his life. How were they dealing with his absence? He felt himself relax. He was also able to breathe a little easier, or so it seemed, and his ears didn't seem to be so clogged up.
woozy
. He was too tense, too wired, too out of it to know what he was feeling other than scared that his life might suddenly come to an end. He needed to relax and turn his head. Maybe shaking it would clear it. He also needed to breathe normally. All easier said than done. He wished he knew what day it was, how long he'd been out. When were these jerks finally going to make a decision as to what they were going to do? Who the hell were they anyway? They didn't act like professional criminals, even though they had found and confiscated his cell phone, but more like bungling, we-make-the-rules-as-we-go-along amateurs. Just his damn luck. He thought about Lily and Gracie. The two loves of his life. How were they dealing with his absence? He felt himself relax. He was also able to breathe a little easier, or so it seemed, and his ears didn't seem to be so clogged up.
“That was the last of it. Did you think it was going to last forever? Look, the nurse left the drugs in the drawer after Pop died because it was paid for. We can't keep giving the guy that stuff. Who the hell knows what it will do to a normal person. As it is, if we ever get caught, there's a little word called
premeditation
. Now what? We've been riding around for over four days now. Isn't it time we made some concrete decisions? People in town are going to start asking questions as to why the store is closed. Four days for a death in a family is about it. We're going into five days now. This is making me nervous.”
premeditation
. Now what? We've been riding around for over four days now. Isn't it time we made some concrete decisions? People in town are going to start asking questions as to why the store is closed. Four days for a death in a family is about it. We're going into five days now. This is making me nervous.”
“This is it,” Matt heard another man say. “When it gets light out, we'll fetch him in here, feed him, and get down to business. Another day, two at the most, and we're outta here. So far there hasn't been anything on the news or in the papers. I'll pick up today's paper when I'm in town. For someone as rich and famous as he is, it doesn't seem like anyone cares about this guy. I'm going back into town now. I'll spread the word we inherited a sizable amount of money and are going to close the store for the winter months. I'll put a sign on the door, pay the utilities in advance for a few months. Same thing for the house. We walk away and don't look back. We stay away a year, maybe two, and then it will be safe to come back.
If
we want to come back. We leave clean, owing no bills, casting no suspicion on ourselves. Look, we've been robbing people at ATMs for three years. We never got caught. There's no reason to believe we'll get caught now either. If he gets frisky, all we have to do is tell him we know where the chick is.”
If
we want to come back. We leave clean, owing no bills, casting no suspicion on ourselves. Look, we've been robbing people at ATMs for three years. We never got caught. There's no reason to believe we'll get caught now either. If he gets frisky, all we have to do is tell him we know where the chick is.”
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