Genteel Spirits (Daisy Gumm Majesty Books) (43 page)

We went home full, happy, and would have something to talk about for months, if not years. My siblings were going to be green with envy, which was always a pleasant prospect.

* * * * *

“It’s only for today, Billy,” I said as I dressed to go to the Winkworth mansion. “One last day, for the publicity shots, and then I’ll never have to deal with these people again.”

“Is that a good thing, or will you miss them?”

I gaped at Billy in the mirror
, into which I’d been
squinting
in order to place my hat properly on my head
. H
e was in his wheelchair
petting Spike on his lap, and gazing at me with a gentle expression on his face. I frowned. Why did he have a gentle expression on his face? Generally when I went out to work, he picked on me for being sinful and wicked and fooling people for a living. Then there was the
fact that for this job
I was working with a bunch of picture
folks
, for whom Billy harbored no respect at all, although he’d gone a bit easier on Monty since Saturday night.

“Miss them?” I asked, astonished. “Are you kidding me?”

He shrugged. “Well, it must be sort of exciting to be working with the people who make the pictures we all flock to see in droves.”

I shook my head. “Picture-making is boring as heck, Billy, and most of the people are idiots.” I felt guilty after that barb, so I backtracked some. “Well, that’s not really true. John Bohnert and Lillian Marshall are nice people, and so are Monty and Harold. I could happily do without ever seeing Lola de la Monica again.”

He grinned, and I turned to gaze sharply at him. What was going on here?

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Why?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Nothing, I guess. You just seem . . . I don’t know. Different lately
,
or something.”

“I don’t know why you think that. I’m the same as always.”

Turning back to the mirror, hat pin in hand, I said, “If you say so.”

He only chuckled.
“Have I told you lately that I love you very much, Daisy?”

This time I not only whirled around, but I dropped both the hat and the hat pin and dove for Billy. Spike yipped, startled, so I put my arms around the both of them. “Oh, Billy! I love you, too. I love you so much, I’ll die if anything happens to you!”

Spike licked my cheek. Billy returned my hug. “The worst thing that could happen to me has already happened, Daisy. If anything else happens, you won’t die. You’ll probably be a little sad, but—”

“A
little
!” I shrieked. “Don’t talk like that, Billy!”

I felt his lips on my hair, and I turned my face to his. We kissed for a long, long time that morning, but eventually I had to pull away and get ready for work. I didn’t want to go, and
I was very uneasy as I drove to the Winkworth estate. I told myself I was being ridiculous, but
I
couldn’t be convinced.

Now that the filming was over and Dr. Fellowes’s special invention
wasn’t
needed, a uniformed policeman no longer guarded the gate. I might have been mistaken, but I got the impression Mrs. Winkworth’s gatekeeper was glad for his absence. He let me in, and I drove to
the
regular parking spot
on the so-called “north forty
.
”
Far f
ewer automobiles resided there
, and I didn’t meet anyone
at all
on my way to the set.

I was a little surprised to see that the dressing-room house had been given a change of clothes
sin
c
e I’d last seen it
. Honest to Pete, the set directors had covered it with a fake southern plantation front
and it looked as if it had stepped straight out of South Carolina. Kind of like Mrs. Winkworth, only with more brains probably
. Those
set
guys were
awfully
clever.

The mob was gone. No longer did a throng of people mill about, doing this and that. I only saw John Bohnert and Harold Kincaid, Lola and Monty and a cameraman, who was having trouble getting Lola to hold a pose long enough for him to get a decent shot.
I guess some things never changed.

As soon as he saw me, Harold came over to chat.

“Did Billy enjoy himself Saturday night?” was his first question.

“Actually, he did. At least I think he did.
He liked Monty.”

“
Monty’s a nice guy,” said Harold. “Just don’t tell Billy about his little
aberration, and Billy will probably go on liking him.”

“Probably.” I sighed, thinking how unfair life was.
The idea was far from revolutionary; I’d known about life’s unfairness for years by that time
.

Believe it or not, the publicity shooting was even more boring than the
motion-
picture shooting. Eventually, Harold and I got sick of watching Lola misbehave and Monty blot sweat from his brow—the day was hotter than heck by mid-morning—and we wandered off to sit in the pergola.

We were still there, Harold telling me about the party he was planning for his mother’s return from her latest adventure, when Sam showed up.

“Sam!” I said, startled. He’d said he was through with the Winkworth place and never wanted to see it again when I’d last
spoken to
him
on Saturday night
. Then I
noticed
the grim expression on his face, and I knew
why he had come
.
With a hand at my throat, I rose
unsteadily
from the bench
. “No.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Sam. He held out a hand, and I took it.

“What happened?”

Sam glanced at Harold, decided he posed no threat and that he’d learn soon enough anyway,
and
he said, “Morphine syrup.”

My heart crashed to my feet. “Is he . . .
?
” But I couldn’t say the word.

“No. The doctor is with him now.”

“Dr. Benjamin?”

“I guess.
Your father
said he’s your regular doctor
.
They’re at the
Castleton
Hospital.
Your dad
sent me to get you.
Your mother and aunt are there, too, and I think your mother called the Buckinghams.
”

I stood there, confused, thinking all sorts of tangled thoughts,
one of
which ultimately got stuck on our Chevrolet. “Our motor . . .”

Harold materialized at my side. “Don’t worry about your car, Daisy. Give me the keys, and I’ll
have someone drive
it to your house.” He looked at Sam, and I guess Sam read the question in his eyes.

“We don’t know. The doctor is doing everything he can.”

I said, my incoherent thoughts snagging on my job, “Lola . . .”

“To hell with Lola,” said Sam.

“Right,” said Harold. “Don’t worry about Lola. Don’t worry about anything
except
Billy now
. I’ll take care of everything here.”

“Thanks, Harold.”

And, with my insides leaden and my eyes burning, I went with Sam Rotondo to the
Castleton
Hospital, where Dr. Benjamin, our faithful family physician and friend was gallantly trying to save the life of my husband, Billy Majesty, who didn’t want
to have
his life saved.

It was the worst day of my life.

About the Author

Award-winning author Alice Duncan lives with a herd of wild dachshunds (enriched from time to time with fosterees from New Mexico Dachshund Rescue) in Roswell, New Mexico. She’s not a UFO enthusiast; she’s in Roswell because her mother’s family settled there fifty years before the aliens crashed. Since her two daughters live in California, where Alice was born, she’d like to return there, but can’t afford to. Alice would love to hear from you at [email protected]. And be sure to visit her Web site:
http://www.aliceduncan.net
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