Genuine Lies (55 page)

No, Delrickio thought, he wasn’t clever enough to have made it all up, the clinic in France, the private hospital in Switzerland. He replaced the gun, ignoring the fact that Lyle covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

Eve had a child, he thought. A child she would undoubtedly want to protect.

Smiling to himself, he leaned back in his chair. Lyle was a revolting swine. But swine had their uses.

Julia had never seen so much chintz in one place. Obviously Gloria had told the decorator to make her office cozy and old-fashioned. She’d gotten it. In spades. Frilly pink curtains with layers and more layers of flounce. Chairs so deep and cushy a small child could sink into them and never be seen again. Hooked rugs scattered over hardwood. Copper and brass pots overflowing with cute balls of yarn or dried flowers. Tiny tables crowded with miniature statuary. A dusting nightmare.

Everything was packed in and angled together so that the visitor was forced to pick through a country-motif obstacle course, shifting this way and that to avoid bumping a hip or stubbing a toe.

Then there were the cats. Three of them slept in a slant of sunlight, tangled around and over each other into one obscene ball of glossy white fur.

Gloria was seated at a small, curvy desk more suited to milady’s boudoir than a working office. She wore a pale pink dress with full sleeves and a Quaker collar. In it she looked the picture of purity, good health, and goodwill. But nerves recognized nerves. Julia saw the stress in the bitten-down nails. Her own were a ragged mess after the hour she’d spent this morning agonizing over keeping this appointment or canceling.

“Miss Summers.” With a warm, welcoming smile, Gloria rose. “Since you’re right on time, you must not have had any trouble finding us.”

“No trouble at all.” Julia turned sideways to scoot between a table and a footstool. “I appreciate your agreeing to see me.”

“Eve is one of my oldest and closest friends. How could I refuse?”

Julia accepted Gloria’s invitation to sit. Obviously, the
incident at Eve’s party wasn’t going to be mentioned. But they both knew it gave Julia the advantage.

“I received the message that you wouldn’t be able to have brunch, but perhaps you’d like some coffee, tea?”

“No, nothing, thank you.” She’d ingested enough coffee that morning to wire her for a week.

“So you want to talk about Eve,” Gloria began in the voice of a cheerful nun. “I’ve known Eve for, goodness, it must be thirty years or so now. I confess, when we first met she terrified and fascinated me. Let’s see, it was just before we began to work on—”

“Miss DuBarry.” In a low voice directly opposed to Gloria’s bubbly bright one, Julia interrupted. “There are a lot of things I’d like to talk to you about, a lot of questions I need to ask, but I feel we’re both going to be uncomfortable until we get one point in the open.”

“Really?”

The only thing Julia had been sure of that morning was that she would not play games. “Eve told me everything.”

“Everything?” The smile stayed in place, but beneath the desk Gloria’s fingers twisted together. “About?”

“Michael Torrent.”

Gloria blinked twice before her expression settled into pleasant lines. If the director had ordered mild surprise and polite confusion, the actress would have nailed the first take. “Michael? Well, naturally, as he was her first husband, she would have discussed him with you.”

Julia realized Gloria was a much more skilled actress than she’d ever been given credit for. “I know about the affair,” she said flatly. “About the clinic in France.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

Julia picked up her briefcase to drop it on the dainty desk. “Open it,” she said. “Look through it. No hidden cameras, no concealed mikes. Off the record, Miss DuBarry. Only you and me, and you have my word that anything you want kept in this room stays in this room.”

Though shaken, she clung to the defense of ignorance.
“You’ll forgive my confusion, Miss Summers, but I thought you were here to discuss Eve for her book.”

Anger, barely banked, flared again. Julia got to her feet and snatched the briefcase. “You know exactly why I’m here. If you’re going to sit there and play the baffled hostess, we’re wasting time.” She started for the door.

“Wait.” Indecision was its own agony. If Julia left now, this way, God knew how far the story would spread. And yet … and yet how could she be sure it hadn’t already gone too far. “Why should I trust you?”

Julia searched for calm but couldn’t find it. “I was seventeen when I found myself pregnant, unmarried, and alone. I’d be the last person to condemn any woman for facing that and making a choice.”

Gloria’s lips began to tremble. The freckles that had made her America’s darling stood out in relief against her chalky skin. “She had no right.”

“Maybe not.” Julia came back to the chair, set her briefcase aside. “Her reasons for telling me were personal.”

“Naturally, you’d defend her.”

Julia stiffened. “Why?”

“You want to write the book.”

“Yes,” Julia said slowly. “I want to write the book.” Need to write it. “But I’m not defending her. I’m only telling you what I know. She was greatly affected by what you went through. There was nothing vindictive or condemning in the way she related the story to me.”

“It wasn’t her story to tell,” Gloria lifted her quavering chin. “Nor is it yours.”

“Perhaps not. Eve felt …” Julia fumbled. Why did it matter what Eve felt? “Going through that with you altered her life, subsequent decisions she made.”

The decision was me, she remembered. She was there, feeling all that pain, because of the misery Gloria had experienced thirty years before.

“What happened to you went beyond that clinic in France,” Julia continued. “Because she stood by you through
it, it changed her. Because … because it changed her, the lives of other people were changed as well.”

Me, my parents. Brandon. When emotions threatened to choke her, she took two deep breaths. “It connects us, Miss DuBarry, in ways I can’t begin to explain yet. That’s why she told me. That’s why she needed to tell me.”

But Gloria couldn’t see beyond the insular world she’d built so carefully. The world she saw tumbling around her shoulders. “What are you going to print?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“I won’t talk to you. I won’t let you ruin my life.”

Julia shook her head as she rose. She needed air. She needed to get out of that crowded room into the air, where she could think. “Believe me, that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“I’ll stop you.” Gloria sprang to her feet, shooting her chair back into the tangle of cats so that they shrieked in annoyance. “I’ll find a way to stop you.”

Had she already tried? Julia wondered. “I’m not your problem,” she said softly and escaped.

But Eve was, Gloria thought as she crumpled back into her chair. Eve was.

Drake figured he’d given Eve enough time to cool off. After all, they were blood.

Right, he thought as he carried the dozen roses up to the door. He fixed on a charming smile, apologetic at the edges, and knocked.

Travers opened the door, took one look, and scowled. “She’s busy today.”

Interfering bitch, he thought, but chuckled and slipped inside. “Never too busy for me. Is she upstairs?”

“That’s right.” Travers couldn’t prevent the smug smile. “With her lawyer. You want to wait, you wait in the parlor. And don’t try slipping anything into your pockets. I’m on to you.”

He didn’t have the energy to be insulted. The wind had gone out of him at the word “lawyer.” Travers left him
standing stunned in the hallway, roses dripping out of his arms.

Lawyer. His fingers tightened involuntarily, but he didn’t even feel the pierce of thorns. She was changing her fucking will. The cold-blooded bitch was cutting him out.

She wouldn’t get away with it. Fury and fear sliced through him. He was halfway up the stairs at a dead run before he got himself under control.

This wasn’t the way. Leaning against the banister, he took long, deep breaths. If he broke in there shouting, he’d only seal his fate. He wasn’t going to let those millions slip through his fingers in blind anger. He’d earned them, by Christ, and he intended to enjoy them.

There was blood on his thumb. Absently he stuck in into his mouth to suck it clean. What was needed was charm, apologies, a few sincere promises. He ran a hand over his hair to tidy it as he debated whether to go up or wait downstairs.

Before he’d made up his mind which would be the most effective, Greenburg started down toward him. The lawyer’s face was impassive, though the shadows under his eyes told of a lost night’s sleep.

“Mr. Greenburg,” Drake said.

The lawyer flicked his gaze over the flowers, up to Drake’s face. His brow lifted briefly in speculation before he nodded and continued down.

Stuffy old fart, Drake thought, and tried to pretend his insides weren’t shaking. He checked his hair again, the knot of his tie, then started up with his best penitent expression on his face.

Outside Eve’s office he straightened his shoulders. It wouldn’t do to look too beaten. She’d have no respect for him if he crawled. He knocked quietly. When his knock went unanswered, he tried again.

“Eve.” His voice held a gentle thread of remorse. “Eve, I’d like to—” He turned the knob. Locked. Forcing himself to be patient, he tried again. “Eve, it’s Drake. I’d like to apologize. You know how much you mean to me, and I can’t stand having this rift between us.”

He wanted to kick the fucking door down and strangle her.

“I just want to find a way to make it all up to you. Not only the money—and I’m going to pay back every penny—but everything I said and did. If you’d only …”

He heard a door open, close quietly, down the hall. He turned hopefully, blinking a few tears into his eyes. Then he nearly ground his teeth when he saw Nina.

“Drake.” Embarrassment shimmered off her in waves. “I’m sorry. Eve wanted me to tell you … She’s awfully busy this morning.”

“I’ll only take up a few minutes.”

“I’m afraid—Drake, I’m sorry, really, she just won’t see you. At least not now.”

He struggled to coat charm over anger. “Nina, can’t you talk to her for me? She’ll listen to you.”

“Not this time.” She put a comforting hand on his. “Actually, this isn’t the time to try to mend fences. She had a disturbing night.”

“She had her lawyer here.”

“Yes, well …” Nina looked away, and missed the flash of venom in his eyes. “You know I can’t discuss her private business. But if you’d take my advice, wait a couple of days longer. She isn’t in a reasonable mood. I’ll do what I can, when I can.”

He thrust the roses into her arms. “Tell her I’ll be back. That I’m not giving up.”

He strode away. He’d be back all right, he promised himself. And he wouldn’t give her a choice.

Nina waited until she heard the door slam before she knocked. “He’s gone, Eve.” Moments later she heard the lock click open, and entered.

“I’m sorry to dump the dirty work on you, Nina.” Eve was already hurrying back to her desk. “I don’t have the time or tolerance for him today.”

“He left you these.”

Eve glanced briefly at the roses. “Do whatever you like with them. Is Julia back yet?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“All right, all right.” She waved that away. There was plenty to do before she spoke with her daughter again. “I want you to hold my calls, unless it’s Julia. Or Paul. I don’t want to be disturbed for at least an hour. Make it two.”

“I need to talk to you myself.”

“I’m sorry, darling, this isn’t the time.”

Nina looked at the flowers she held, then laid them on the desk. Near the edge was a stack of audio tapes. “You’re making a mistake.”

“If I am, it’s mine to make.” Impatient, she glanced up. “I’ve made my decision. If you want to hash it through, we will. But not now.”

“The longer this goes on, the harder it will be to put things right again.”

“I’m doing my damnedest to put things right.” She crossed over to check the video camera she’d set on a tripod. “Two hours, Nina.”

“All right.” She left the flowers scattered over the desk like blood.

Paul was so immersed in the scene he was writing, he didn’t hear the phone ring; his machine picked up the call. But he heard Julia’s voice. “Paul, it’s Julia. I just wanted—” “Hi.”