Close to You (15 page)

Eliza looked radiant when Doris was through with her paint and brushes. She followed Eliza down the hallway to the studio and watched as the anchor took her seat. Doris positioned herself in her customary spot on the side of the set, ready to jump in at commercial breaks to lightly powder Eliza's nose or forehead if they became shiny in the bright lights.

The broadcast went smoothly, leading with the breaking developments in the Middle East, moving to stories on the Republican and Democratic Presidential candidates, and closing with Eliza's
FRESHER LOOK.
AS she watched the child-care story on the monitor, Doris was glad, for once, that she didn't have kids. She would be a nervous wreck with so many sickos out there.

When the show was over, Doris waited outside the Fish-bowl while Eliza went in to conduct the postmortem with Range and the other producers. She could tell by the cheerful expressions behind the glass wall that everyone was pleased and she wished more than anything that she didn't have to be the one to throw ice water on Eliza's great day. But it would be better for Eliza to hear about Mack from her friend than from someone else who would feign concern and sympathy while inwardly enjoying Eliza's reaction.

Ten minutes later, in the privacy of the anchorwoman's office, Doris broke the sordid news while she gently removed the heavy television makeup from Eliza's stunned face.

On her way home from work, Abigail stopped at Victoria's Secret, heading directly to the back of the store. She knew exactly what she wanted. She picked up five of the plain black cotton underpants she always bought there.

Then it was fantasy time.

She strolled around the store, stopping to caress a violet lace teddy with a low décolletage. Appreciatively she rubbed her fingers across zebra-print satin boxer pajamas. Abigail held up a sexy slip with slim straps that crossed in the back and imagined. Imagined what Eliza would look like wearing the lingerie.

A girl could dream, couldn't she?

But making the dream a reality, that was the tricky part.

On impulse Abigail took the silk slip up to the cash register and placed it carefully on the counter along with the underpants. The saleswoman wrapped the pants in pink tissue paper and began to do the same with the slip.

“Could you put that in a box, please?” asked Abigail. “It's a gift.”

Back home in her apartment, Abigail carefully took the mauve silk slip from the box. It was the sort of thing Eliza would wear, Abigail was certain of it. She thought back to
her shopping expeditions with Linda Anderson. Linda had loved this sort of feminine lingerie, while Abigail had always gone for basic undergarments and flannel pajamas.

Eliza reminded Abigail so much of Linda Anderson.

Paige almost wept as she read the letter from Samuel Morton that had arrived in the morning mail and she hesitated before giving it to Eliza. Her boss's eyes had been red-rimmed when she came in and she had—unusual for her—closed the door behind her when she went into her office an hour ago.

Something had happened and Paige knew it wasn't good.

Tentatively she knocked on Eliza's door.

“Come in, Paige.”

Eliza sat with her back to the door, staring down at the busy newsroom.

“I thought you'd want to see this letter from Sarah's father.” Paige offered the note to Eliza.

“Sarah?” There was a look of puzzlement on Eliza's face.

“Sarah Morton.”

“Oh, of course. I'm sorry, Paige. I'm just not with it today.”

She took the paper from her assistant and began to read it as Paige left the room. Slowly she digested Samuel Morton's anguished words—words written from the deepest
grief imaginable. Here was a man who felt even worse than she did today.

Because after it was all said and done, no matter what happened in her career, no matter how disappointing her love life was, no matter how deeply she was betrayed, Eliza had Janie.

Samuel Morton had lost his child.

How would he go on?

As long as she had Janie, Eliza knew she could. She had to.

“Gee, Ms. Blake, I'd really like to accommodate you, I really would. But the soonest we can get out there to install the system will be the week after next.”

Eliza was trying in vain to get the security-alarm company to get to her house sooner, but there was a backlog of orders that waited in front of hers. Eliza would just have to get in line.

She had known the house didn't have a security system when she bought it and it hadn't much concerned her. It was one of those things she would get around to doing, without particular urgency. That, and getting the locks on the doors changed.

But the threatening letters and phone calls at work had left her usual confidence shaken. Mack's betrayal had left her hurt and vulnerable. And Samuel Morton's loss highlighted in the extreme the imperative of ensuring that her own child was safe and secure.

“Fine. A week from Monday, then,” she agreed grudgingly, marking the date in her daybook.

Eliza was relieved when the weekend finally came. Saturday morning she slept later than usual, waking to the soft kiss that Janie planted on her cheek.

“Hi, my sweetheart,” she smiled, holding open the covers to invite the child inside.

Janie climbed into the bed and mother and daughter snuggled together.

“What are we going to do today, Mommy?”

“Well, I thought we should go and pick out a new car. KayKay and Poppie will be going back to their apartment and we need to have our own car. Plus Mrs. Garcia is coming and she'll be needing the car, too.”

Janie played with a strand of Eliza's hair, twisting it in her small fingers. “I don't want Mrs. Garcia. I want KayKay and Poppie.”

“You'll still have KayKay and Poppie, honey. We'll see them all the time. They just won't be here every single day. Mrs. Garcia will take care of you. She's very nice and I know you are going to like her.”

“I liked Mrs. Twomey.”

Eliza made a concerted effort not to change the expression on her face as the child peered into it.

“I liked Mrs. Twomey, too, Janie. But Mrs. Twomey is sick and she can't take care of you anymore.”

“But I thought Mrs. Twomey loved me.”

“She did, honey.”

“But she never calls me and she didn't send me a birthday card.” There was puzzlement and hurt on Janie's face.

Eliza pushed the soft hair back from the child's brow and stroked the top of her head. “She can't, Janie. Mrs. Twomey has problems that she has to work out and she has to concentrate all her efforts on those.”

“Will I ever see her again?”

“I don't know, Janie.”

Please, God, I certainly hope not.
That would be all they needed.

“Come on. Let's get up and get dressed,” she said, trying to divert her daughter. “Want to go out for breakfast?”

“Pancakes?” Janie's eyes widened.

“Great idea. Go see if KayKay and Poppie want to come with us.”

Janie hopped from the bed and scurried down the hallway while Eliza rose and went to the bathroom to shower. Twenty minutes later, wearing no makeup and dressed in jeans, a red T-shirt and soft moccasins, Eliza was putting her wallet and checkbook into a casual shoulder bag when the doorbell rang.

Larson Richards was standing at the front door, a tiny, golden puppy cradled in his arms. The moment Eliza saw him, she instantly resented him for what she anticipated he was about to do.
How dare he?

And how could she say no to the little girl who jumped up and down in excitement as she took the soft little yellow Lab into her arms?

Early Sunday morning, a shiny white Volvo station wagon stood parked in Eliza's driveway and Janie giggled with delight as she romped with her new puppy on the front lawn's dewy grass. Eliza had been up three times during the night to comfort the whimpering puppy, the last time at five
A.M.
Janie was up at six, ready to play. For the next several hours Eliza had to repeatedly rein in the child from running over to the Feeneys' to show James the cuddly pet she had christened Daisy.

At ten o'clock James appeared outside with his mother.

“Thank goodness,” called Eliza as she beckoned to them to cross the street. “We've been waiting for you. I don't know how much longer I could have held Janie back.”

“My, you're ambitious, aren't you?” Susan whispered as they stood watching the kids encouraging the dog.

Eliza sighed tiredly. “I could kill that Larson Richards. He just showed up with the dog for Janie.”

“You're kidding.”

“No. This was the last thing I was planning on. Our new housekeeper is starting tomorrow. Won't she be absolutely thrilled! Now Mrs. Garcia can add paper-training a puppy to her duties.”

Susan shook her head. “Larson had some nerve, bringing a dog over without checking with you first.”

Not knowing how Susan felt about Larson, Eliza hesitated before revealing her feelings about the man.

“Maybe he was just trying to be nice.”

Susan's mouth turned down at the corner. “Larson doesn't do anything just to be nice. He always has an ulterior motive. In this case, I'd bet he wanted to get close to you.”

“Well, he failed, miserably.”

Janie had picked up the puppy and was walking with James toward the backyard. “We're going to take Daisy up into the treehouse, Mommy,” she called over her shoulder.

“Okay, but be careful and watch out for Daisy. Don't let her fall out.” Eliza turned back to Susan. “What do you mean, Larson always has an ulterior motive?”

Susan looked a bit uncomfortable. “Maybe I shouldn't be saying this, but when we moved in here and the Richardses were so kind to us, Larson approached my husband with a so-called terrific investment opportunity. He was buying up all the local pizza parlors and uniting them under one umbrella which he planned on selling to a national company. He promised we would at least double our money within a year. Well, it's three years later, and Larson has come back to us a dozen times for more. We were dumb enough to throw in additional money the first few times. After that, even though we loved the Richardses, we weren't going to throw in another dime with their son.”

“I wonder if he'll be hitting me up to invest,” Eliza said.

“You can count on it. But take my advice, no matter how persuasive Larson is,
don't.
At the end, even his parents wouldn't give him any more money for his cockamamie company.”

Eliza was arranging silver-framed family pictures on the round Henredon table in the living room when the telephone rang. A week ago she would have been delighted to hear Mack's voice coming from overseas on a leisurely Sunday afternoon. Today her tone was icy as she answered his call.

“How's it going over there?” she asked perfunctorily.

“It's quiet now. But you always have the feeling that things could blow at any time.”

“Be careful.”

To Mack, her voice sounded detached, uninterested. She was holding back. She knew.

“Anything new on the threats?”

“Security is on top of it,” she answered shortly.

“I don't want anything to happen to you, Eliza. You mean too much to me.”

“Sure, Mack. I mean so much to you. Don't bother with the charade. I heard all about your little tryst.”

What should he say? This was the conversation he had been dreading. Girding himself, he plunged ahead.

“I wanted to tell you, Eliza. I wanted to tell you myself. I didn't want you to hear from someone else.”

“Well, I did. It really felt great, too. I especially like the fact that so many of the people I have to work with every day know about it as well. Thanks so much.”

“I'm sorry, Eliza. I really am. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“That's nice. That makes me feel a lot better.”

There was a pause on the line that had nothing to do with the long-distance transmission delay.

“I guess it would sound pretty lame if I said that it didn't mean anything. I was drunk and down and it just happened.”

“Spare me the pretty details, Mack. Please.”

“Look, honey, this isn't something that we can work out over the telephone. I have to see you. We have to talk in person. We have too much going for us to let my stupid screwup ruin everything.”

“Number one, don't call me ‘honey.' Number two, this is a bit more than a ‘stupid screwup.' And number three, it doesn't look like we're going to get the chance anytime soon to talk face-to-face. And to tell you the truth, Mack, that's just fine with me.”

With that, she hung up on him and forced herself not to cry.

Augie was at the service station by six
A.M.
He had made a clean getaway this morning, rising well before Helene. That wasn't hard to do. His wife would sleep late and then get started with her busy day of going to the health club, lunching with friends, shopping and getting her nails done. When he got home tonight, she would complain about how tired she was, too tired to cook. They would have to go out for dinner or order something in.

Why had he hooked up with Helene? He knew the answer as he thought about her flowing blonde hair, the tight-fitting, cleavage-revealing sweaters she wore, the way her perfect backside filled out her designer jeans. It was sex, pure and simple. That was the reason he had married her.

A double bell rang as a car ran over the black rubber tubing in front of the gas pumps. Augie zipped up his tight overalls against the cool September morning as he went out to fill the customer's tank. He stood with his hand on the gas pump nozzle and admitted to himself that he knew the reason Helene had married him.

Money.