The Guest List (14 page)

“I hate leaving you here like this,” he said once he was on the other side of the gate.

“I hope you aren’t thinking about moving in. The dogs are one thing, but you—Now that’s a different matter entirely. Go on. I’ll be fine, and so will they.”

The moment Steve left, Abby looked around at her new canine family, who were watching her with a great deal of curiosity. “Okay, you guys … and girls. It seems to me the best thing to do is to get you all some water. I assume you’ve already had breakfast, but from here on out, food will be served on the patio. I’ll ring a bell or whistle or something. I’d appreciate it if you”—she turned her gaze on Olivia, then the pug—“would do your business outside in the bushes or on the grass.” The pug stood up on his hind legs. “Very nice. Shall I take that as an okay?” She walked back to the sliding kitchen door, then turned around. “Beemer, you take charge while I go find water bowls.”

Beemer offered up a sharp bark. It was almost as good as a salute. Olivia, obviously smitten with the big, handsome former police dog, waddled to his side and gazed at him adoringly.

Abby went back inside. Bunny would be proud of her, she thought. If this didn’t qualify as getting on with her life, she didn’t know what did.

She liked Steve. He was fun to be around, and she loved his camaraderie with the dogs. But what she liked best was that he had no expectations of how she should be acting or feeling. She hadn’t told him much about herself, other than that her boyfriend had died. Around him, she could pretend everything was normal.

Abby opened the freezer to see rows and rows of neatly wrapped packages of meat, all clearly labeled. Steaks, chops, chicken, ground beef—just what she was looking for. She set a package of ground beef in the sink to thaw.

The first thing on the day’s agenda was to call the library and tell them that she would have to pass on their job offer. She wasn’t going anywhere until she got the pool fenced in.

Abby went to her office and phoned the library, and after that several fencing companies. She set up three appointments for bids that same afternoon.

She took a long shower, then spent the next two hours getting acquainted with her office and its equipment, all the while keeping her eye on the dogs through the sliding door that opened to the patio. She needed to think about getting a proposal together for a second book. The check Mallory had given her was more than enough to see her comfortably through the next two years if she didn’t earn a dime doing anything else, but it was also the only money she had for emergencies or a nest egg.

Before Connor’s death, she’d toyed with an idea about a murder involving two female corporate icons, but now her thoughts turned to what she and Steve had talked about. She jotted some notes down on a piece of paper and did her usual clustering technique to get her brain working. Three hours later she had a succinct working outline for a new mystery titled,
Canine Capers.
For research, she figured all she had to do was talk to Steve. His years of experience as a vet would provide her with more than enough detailed information.

She spent the rest of the afternoon tidying things up and
familiarizing herself with her new home. By the time she was finished, one thing was clear: The white carpet would have to go … quickly. She couldn’t bear looking at it. With all these dogs, she could think of only two kinds of flooring that would hold up to the kind of accidents that were bound to happen: ceramic tile or vinyl.

She spent an hour outside with the dogs, getting to know their names, petting them, and brushing them. Then it was into the kitchen with Beemer and Olivia, to look for a meat-loaf recipe. When she was finished putting everything together, carrots and potatoes lined the sides of the baking pan just the way the cookbook said to do it. Strips of bacon as well as a fine dusting of sesame seeds covered the top. It was a half hour before Steve was due to arrive, and suddenly she realized she was short on time and that the kitchen was an unholy mess. Pots and pans, potato and carrot peelings seemed to be everywhere. “Who knows. I might turn into a gourmet chef one of these days.”

Olivia snorted, and Beemer cuffed her on the hip with his paw, at which point Olivia nipped his leg. Beemer howled his outrage. Abby grinned. “We need to get along here, kids. Be nice.”

A sudden urge to call Connor and tell him she’d just made her first meat loaf brought tears to Abby’s eyes. She was never going to be able to tell him anything ever again. Not about her first attempts at cooking, about the dogs she’d adopted, or about the idea for her new book. She wiped her tears on the sleeve of her shirt.

Beemer must have sensed her unhappiness and nudged her hand. She turned around, sat down on the floor beside him, and pulled him into her lap. Olivia struggled up from under the table, barking jealously.

Her tears vanished. How could she feel sad when she was surrounded by so much love?

“Treat time,” she said, blowing her nose with gusto. She
grabbed the bag of Snausages and headed outside. She’d no sooner finished passing out the last Snausage when the telephone rang. Abby found an extension on the patio table.

“Hello, Abby, this is Mallory. I accepted that promotion I was telling you about, and I’ve moved back to South Carolina. I was hoping we could get together soon. That is, if the invitation is still open and you want me to teach you how to cook.”

“I—” She hesitated, not sure what to say. So much had happened these last ten days. Nothing was the same. Now she even had to wonder if Mallory had been sincere in her intentions to be sisters again, or if there was some other reason—some dark, sinister reason why Mallory wanted to be back in her life.

“Abby, are you okay? Do you want me to call back later?”

“No,” she said, thinking quickly. “I’m fine, and yes, the invitation is still open. How about tomorrow, say … early
afternoonish?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll bring you my favorite recipe book.”

“Okay, see you then.” As she lowered the handset, she heard Mallory’s voice calling her name.

“What? What is it?”

“I need directions to your house.”

“Oh, of course you do. You take highway …”

Abby sat alone, savoring the warm November sunshine. Today was going to be a wonderful day. She could feel it in her bones and wasn’t sure why. Was it because Mallory was coming for lunch as well as bringing the lunch with her? In spite of Mallory’s valiant efforts, Abby couldn’t cook any better now than she could five months earlier. “I’m a writer,” she told the dogs sitting around her. “Not a cook!”

She laughed out loud as she thought back to the day Mallory first called and invited herself over. She really had let her imagination run away with her, thinking Mallory was planning to do her harm. Abby’s suspicions were put to rest when Mallory explained why she’d been in the restaurant the day Connor died. Her flight had been canceled, and she couldn’t get another one until the next afternoon. She’d found a hotel room near the airport and was just finishing breakfast in the hotel café when the whole Mitchell family came in and sat down. As for the other two times Abby thought she’d seen Mallory—Mallory indicated she was as perplexed as Abby.

Abby shuddered to think what her life would be like today without her sister. In just five short months, she’d become the kind of older sister Abby had always dreamed of. A sister to share the good times and the bad. A sister whose shoulder she could cry on. A sister with whom she could share her most intimate secrets. A sister she could love.

She realized now there was truth in what Bunny had said—that one day everything would be all right again. Time was indeed healing her pain.

Her life was full, and she had a lot to look forward to. The holidays were coming soon, and her agent had called just that morning to tell her that her first book had been picked up by a book club and was being optioned for a movie of the week. And then there was Steve. They’d started out as friends but after last night—That kiss! She didn’t think she would ever look at him quite the same way again. Who would have thought a veterinarian could kiss like that?

Was Connor fading from her memory—something she promised herself would never happen? No, she told herself. He would always be there. Always.

Beemer barked, as Olivia scurried to his side. Abby laughed. The unlikely duo were inseparable. Abby laughed again when she looked across what had once been a well-manicured backyard. It looked straggly with winter approaching. What little grass was left had turned brown, and as far as the eye could see there were holes—dug by the dogs to bury their precious bones and chews. There were just seven dogs left, including Beemer and Olivia. Steve had found good homes for the others. The animals pretty much had the run of the place now that they were housebroken. A doggie door had helped speed things along. For the most part, they liked hanging out in the kitchen or her office, and that was all right with her. She considered them her family. Even Mallory was taken with Olivia and brought toys and chews when she came to visit.

Beemer tensed suddenly before running to the gate, Olivia
on his trail. He barked again when Mallory reached over the fence to unhook the latch. “Yoohoo! You out here, Abby?”

“On the patio. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous.”

“What’s for lunch?”

“I was going to make something last night, but I had to work late so it’s pastrami on rye for me, liverwurst and onion on rye for you. Deli pickles, chips, and two Cokes. Do you want to eat out here or in the house? I brought the dogs some pig ears so they won’t pester us while we eat.”

“You finally got the hang of it, huh?”

“So tell me, how did the big date go?”

“Steve kissed me and it was … nice. Really nice. I like him but—”

“Yeah, I know, he isn’t Connor. That’s why his name is Steve. Give him and yourself a chance. A kiss isn’t a commitment, you know. Just be open and enjoy his company.”

“I turned in
Canine Capers
last week. My editor read it over the weekend and said this book moves me out of the bush leagues. There’s only one problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Mallory said, biting into a crunchy pickle.

“They want a picture for the back of the book jacket.”

“Oh. Wait a minute. What’s wrong with a profile or a silhouette?”

“They don’t do that. They always want full face,” she said with a sigh. “How would you like to be Bailey James?” Abby blurted.

“What?”

Abby put her sandwich down and sat forward. The offhanded thought suddenly seemed like a damn good idea. “You could, you know, Mallory,” she said with all sincerity. “Neither my agent nor my editor has ever seen me. So far all my business dealings have been done by phone, e-mail or fax. They have no clue what I look like.” An indulgent smile told Abby that
Mallory wasn’t taking her seriously. “They want me to go to a photographer in New York, but first they want to send me to one of the expensive salons where they do your hair and—you know, a makeover.” She saw Mallory’s eyebrows arch. “I won’t do it. I just can’t open myself up to that. They’ll have to forget the picture unless … unless I can talk you into pretending to be me.”

“Abby, I thought you said you had a handle on all that. The makeup covers the mark.”

“I do have a handle on it. It’s not the picture so much that bothers me. It’s—I’m a private person, Mallory. Sort of an introvert, where you, you’re an extrovert. You would like all that glamour stuff. Come on, admit it, you would, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure, but—”

“My agent thinks that if the first book does as well as they expect, the publisher will want to send me on tour with
Canine Capers.
TV appearances and stuff. I would absolutely hate it, every minute of it, flying from city to city, dinners with people I don’t know … It would be worth it to me to pay you to do it. That way I could stay here and write more books.”

Mallory stared at her sister as if trying to read her mind. “But—But this is what you’ve been waiting for,” she stammered. “You’re a successful writer now, and you deserve all that’s going to come your way. If I pretended to be you, I’d be stealing your thunder.”

Abby made a rude noise with her mouth. “I don’t give a damn about thunder. All I want is the money and the satisfaction of knowing that people are enjoying my books. Look, Mallory, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Think about it, it’s really no different from me hiring an assistant to help me with fan mail, the research, and all the other stuff—As a matter of fact that’s exactly what you could do. Between book promotions you could work as my assistant.”

“I have a job, remember?”

“But I bet it isn’t as much fun and doesn’t pay as well as the one I’m offering.”

“Even if I agreed, it wouldn’t work,” Mallory said, upending her Coke can as if to say that was the end of the subject.

Abby wasn’t about to let Mallory dismiss her idea so easily. “I think it would. I think it would work wonderfully. Once you read the books and discuss them with me, you’ll be able to answer any question they throw at you. As to discussing money and contracts, all you have to do is listen and tell them you need time to think about whatever it is they want. We can make this work, Mallory.”

“Oh, Abby, I don’t know….”

“You could move in here with me. God knows the house is big enough. You’d have to cook, though, and help out with the dogs. Will you at least think about it?”

Mallory’s expression stilled and grew serious. “I guess I just don’t understand why you want me of all people to do this. What about your friend Bunny?”

“Bunny isn’t right for the job. You are.”

“If I did it, does that mean you’d hide from the world forever?”

“It’s not hiding. It’s protecting my privacy. I’d like your answer as soon as possible. I need to get to work on the next book, and I’ve got a lot of research to do. They want the completed manuscript in six months.”

“Hold on here. If I’m pretending to be you and doing all this promotional stuff, when am I supposed to find the time to write? It doesn’t pencil out, Abby.”

“They’ll believe whatever we want them to believe. You just take a laptop with you and let them think you’re writing between interviews.”

“What about Donovan and Carol? You know they’d resent my living here with you. I don’t want to start a family feud. You’ve always been so close. Think what my living here would do to your relationship.”

“You’re my sister, my only living flesh-and-blood relative. If they can’t understand that I love you and want you in my life, then … that’s their problem.”

“If only they’d give me a chance to prove to them I’ve changed, that I’m not the hateful little girl I used to be. People
can
and
do
change. Surely they realize that.”

“I know. If you want to know the truth, I think Donovan would love to make nice. It’s Carol who refuses even to discuss the possibility. It’s weird.”

Mallory stared blankly at one of the dogs. “Look, Abby, Donovan and Carol aside, I don’t know anything about the book-publishing business, but I do work with people on a daily basis. What happens if somehow it gets out that I impersonated you? Don’t you think your readers will feel you betrayed them, cheated them? If you’re moving into the big time, as you say, maybe you need to give this some more thought. What’s wrong with a profile shot? Insist on it.”

Abby’s face turned glum. “I guess that means you don’t want to do it, huh?”

“That’s not it, Abby. I don’t want you to have regrets later on. We’re just starting to be comfortable with one another. We were separated for a lot of years. We can’t get those years back, and I don’t want to ruin what we have now. It took me a long time to get to this point. But if it’s what you really want … I’ll do it. I also want to go on record as saying it’s not a good idea. When do you want me to start?”

“As soon as they call me and tell me they want me to come to New York.”

“Okay, it’s a deal.”

“That’s great, Mallory. You won’t be sorry. We need to discuss money.”

“Later. Right now, I have to get back on the road.” She gathered up hers and Abby’s trash and tossed it into the trash can. “I enjoyed lunch as always. By the way, Abby, I’m awfully
glad that you, at least, were willing to let me prove … to show you … you know what I’m trying to say.”

“That’s because I have an open mind. Like you said, people can and do change. You’re nothing like the big sister I used to know.”

“So, what’s your new book going to be about? Murder and mayhem, body bags and grisly accidents? One of these days I’ll have to tell you about this plot I have for a surefire bestseller, or is it blockbuster?”

“Both. What kind of story?” Abby asked, her interest piqued.

“A real-life story. A case I discovered when I was researching insurance files. I suppose, in a way, you could say I found it by accident and then again, maybe I was meant to find it just so I could share it with you. It’s a case that has never been resolved and is still on the books. Big payouts always stay on the books. When you’re dry and can’t come up with a plot, we’ll talk about it.” She looked down at her watch. “Whoa, I’m going to be late. See you next week. Call me if you need me to do anything. I won’t give my notice till we’re certain this is a sure thing, okay?”

“Mallory! That’s a dirty trick, leaving me in suspense like that. Drive carefully.”

At the gate, Mallory turned, and shouted, “You didn’t tell me what kind of kisser Steve is.”

Abby laughed. “It’s none of your business.”

“Wow! That great, huh?” Mallory laughed.

Abby smiled as she finished cleaning up. She was on her way inside when the phone rang. Friend or foe, she wondered as she raced to get it before the answering machine picked up. She was breathless when she said hello.

“Hi, honey, it’s Carol. How are you? I’ve been thinking of you for days now. Donovan wants to know if we can plan on you for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Oh, Aunt Carol, hi!” Abby paused a moment to gather her. thoughts and decide what to say. “I can’t. I’m trying to put
together a new book proposal,” she said, knowing Carol had no idea what the statement entailed. “And after that, I have to go to New York,” she added, hoping to forestall Carol from volunteering to bring Thanksgiving to her. She’d already promised Mallory that the two of them would have Thanksgiving together.

“How wonderful for you. I’m so disappointed, though. It won’t be the same without you. We can plan on you for Christmas, surely?”

“Umm. I don’t know yet. I promised Bunny I’d spend Christmas with her this year since she spent the last four Christmases with us.” The truth of it was that she and Bunny had only discussed the idea, but Abby needed the excuse. “I thought you’d be going to the mountains this year.”

It wasn’t Abby’s imagination—the chill she heard in Carol’s voice when she said, “We were hoping you’d come with us. Donovan is going to be so disappointed.”

On one hand Abby felt bad for making up excuses to avoid seeing Carol and Donovan, but on the other hand she couldn’t forgive them for not giving Mallory a chance to show them that she’d changed. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, Carol. I really am. I hope you understand.” All of a sudden the dogs started barking. Abby looked out the window and saw them streaking toward the back fence. It was probably the neighbor’s cat.

“My God, Abby, how do you stand it?”

“Stand what? The dogs? I love them, Aunt Carol. I can’t tell you how much company they are.”

“You don’t let them in the house, do you?”

She’d never gotten up the courage to tell her aunt she allowed the dogs in the house. It would only upset her, and things were bad enough as they were. They had become more estranged since Carol found out Mallory was back in Abby’s life.

“Actually, I do, but they’re very well trained, and I had a doggie door installed so they can go in and out whenever they
want.” She heard Carol gasp and knew it was time to hang up. “Listen, Aunt Carol, I’ve got a lot of work to do yet today so I’ve got to get off the phone. But I’ll get back to you in a few days with an answer on the Christmas thing, okay? Thanks for calling.”

Long after she’d hung up, Abby sat by the phone and questioned her feelings toward Carol. It wasn’t the first time she’d made up excuses to get off the phone or to avoid seeing her. When she thought back, she realized she’d been doing it since before Connor’s death. Resentment concerning Mallory was part of it, but there was more to it than that.