The Heiress (28 page)

Richard looked up over the top of the business section. He preferred she not speak during breakfast. When she did, he looked irritated. “What?” he demanded, clearly piqued.

“Bucky Jerome’s column this morning!”

Furious, upset, Charlotte stared at the story Bucky had written under the tag line Dangerous Love. Unable to help herself, unable to wonder who Bucky was talking about—assuming, of course, it was true, and she didn’t for one second believe it was—Charlotte read it again.

“I mean,” Charlotte continued heatedly, “Bucky can’t go around making assertions like that. People will think it’s true!”

“People will think what is true?” Richard grumbled, reaching for the society section in his wife’s hand. He frowned disinterestedly as he read, then scoffed, shook his head. He handed the paper back to Charlotte. “I don’t see why you’re so upset. So someone in Charleston has a mistress. So what?” he asked in a low, bored tone.

Charlotte’s appetite vanished. She pushed her plate of fruit away. “So maybe his wife would care!”

Richard forked up another bite of eggs Benedict. “I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Charlotte stared at her husband furiously. “It’s not right for a husband to humiliate his wife and family that way. And furthermore, I would think you, of all people, Richard, would understand the need for decorum!”

“What I understand,” Richard said, abruptly getting up from the table, “is the need for a little peace.”

“Where are you going?” Charlotte watched him march away from the table.

Richard didn’t answer. Didn’t turn around. Simply walked out.

Charlotte sighed and went back to her newspaper. She still couldn’t believe Bucky Jerome had written that article. Couldn’t believe a truly prominent, cultured member of the Charleston elite and a “family man” would ever do such unwise, uncivilized things as what Bucky was suggesting.

For heaven’s sake, what would happen if the philanderer’s wife
did
find out? How could she possibly bear it? Especially if the worst happened and the affair became public knowledge.

“W
E’VE HAD COMPLAINTS
,” Adlai told Bucky when he sauntered into the newspaper at noon.

“So what’s new?” Bucky said with a disinterested shrug. He’d known he was going to get it for this, but he’d done it anyway, for Daisy’s sake. It was past time Richard Templeton got a little payback for the way he had treated Daisy all these years.

Ignoring the very expensive cuckoo clock Bucky had given him for his birthday, Adlai continued his dressing-down with more than usual vigor. “I’m referring to
the blind item entitled Dangerous Love.” Adlai picked up the messages and began reading through the stack, top to bottom. “‘How many marriages do you think you’ve ruined—I’m here to tell you, quite a few.’ And there’s the other viewpoint. ‘Come on, quit tantalizing us. Tell us who, when, where, how and why. Otherwise, we’re going to think Bucky Jerome is making this stuff up.’”

Bucky gritted his teeth. Leave it to his father to seize on that. “I’m not making this stuff up,” he said defiantly as he slung his backpack off his shoulder and slouched in a chair.

Adlai regarded Bucky with frank disbelief. “So you said.”

“Hey—” Bucky unzipped the backpack, more than ready for this confrontation “—I’ve got proof.”

Adlai swore, distressed. “Tell me you didn’t take pictures,” he said.

Bucky smiled and began getting out his proof. “I took pictures. The problem was, it was dark and you couldn’t really make out their faces while they were in the act. So I went in after ’em and cleaned up—literally and figuratively.”

Adlai froze. “What the hell are you talking about?” he grumbled.

Bucky pulled out a Ziploc bag, similar to the kind the police detectives used to transport evidence. “Lipstick-stained tissues. And tissues stained with, well, you can guess what that is.” He waved the telltale tissues in front of his father’s nose.

“Geez, Bucky.” Adlai recoiled as if he’d actually touched the remainders of the illicit lovemaking. “What in blue blazes are you trying to do?” he demanded, even more upset.

Bucky handed over a stack of pictures only a porno magazine would print, then sat back in his chair and laid the plastic bag across his lap. “Report the hot and juicy society news, just like you told me to do.”

Adlai frowned as he thumbed through the photo diary of the previous evening’s occurrence. “You can’t run these photos.”

No surprise there, Bucky thought. He regarded his father, enjoying the stunned look on Adlai’s face. “I didn’t think I could. At least not in this newspaper.”

Adlai handed back the stack of photos Bucky had printed out on his home computer. “Not in any, unless you want to get sued for defamation.”

Bucky shoved the evidence and photos back in his bag then lifted his hands in self-defense. “Hey. Last night was a public event with newspaper coverage. Richard and his honey should’ve known better.”

Adlai sank down in his chair. Now that Adlai knew about the sordid affair, he couldn’t seem to let it go, either. “Richard Templeton? That stuffed shirt?” Adlai asked curiously. “Who’s the woman?”

“Ginger Zaring, an airline reservations agent.”

Adlai scowled as the talk turned to the
Herald
once again. “You’re walking a fine line here, Bucky, you know that.”

Bucky refused to let his father cow him out of doing his job. “I didn’t say the names of the parties involved,” Bucky defended himself. “And I’m serious about the potential for one hell of a stormy divorce. If Richard Templeton’s wife finds out what he has been up to, there’s no telling what could happen.”

Adlai took a second to think about that. “You don’t really think Charlotte would divorce Richard?”

Bucky shrugged, knowing if Charlotte Templeton
had seen what he had, she would. Then, Bucky thought, he would have the scoop on one of the biggest, most expensive, ignoble divorces Charleston had seen in years.

“Is that all?” Bucky started to get up. He wanted to get his DNA proof to a safe-deposit box, just in case Richard Templeton decided to come after him. One look at his proof of the night’s activities, and Richard’s lawyers were likely to tell Richard to leave Bucky the hell alone.

“No. Sit down,” Adlai ordered grimly. He waited until Bucky complied before continuing. “No more blind items like that, Bucky. Got it? It’s not what the people of Charleston are looking for. You want to write sordid, put it in a sexy screenplay. And while you’re at it, lay off Daisy Templeton, too.”

“Granger,” Bucky corrected, glad for the change of subject to someone he would much rather think about. “Daisy’s married now, you know.”

Adlai huffed as the cuckoo bird slid out of the clock and let out an irritating screech. “Her family is complaining.”

Of course, Bucky thought. It kept ’em from thinking about the real problem—Richard’s disgraceful behavior. He regarded his father curiously. “What about Daisy?” Bucky asked, wondering if the two of them would ever be able to be friends again. “Has she called in?”

“No,” Adlai replied sternly as he gave Bucky another chastising look, “but her parents have. And so has Tom Deveraux.”

Bucky frowned. Jack he had expected. Not Tom. “That’s unusual, isn’t it?” he asked.

Adlai shrugged. “Well, Granger is counsel for Dev
eraux-Heyward Shipping. And Daisy is married to him. Bottom line, they are all upset about the way you have been hounding Daisy. Tom also mentioned he might not be running quite so many ads in the business section if we don’t lay off.”

Bucky refused to let pressure scare him. “He’s bluffing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Adlai reiterated curtly. “You’re upsetting important people, Bucky.”

“So?” Bucky countered as he returned his father’s narrow look. “The news does that. People don’t always like the truth.”

Adlai came around his desk to stand in front of Bucky, jaw clenched, face red with fury. “Obviously, I am not making myself clear, son. You want to keep writing that gossip column of yours? Then do it in a way that you don’t offend so many people, especially those prone to take some sort of direct or indirect action against us. Otherwise, you’re going to find yourself right back in classified ads.”

Bucky left his father’s office totally bummed. There was no pleasing that man. And no way in hell he was going to get famous writing about what tea cakes were eaten at which soiree. Not that he had wanted to be on this assignment anyway. What he wanted was the police beat. The EMS run.

Of course, there could be a crime involved in the goings-on between Richard Templeton and his mistress if he was paying her to have sex with him. Or if the sex were given in exchange for ludicrously expensive antiques. Which were, in Bucky’s view, nothing more than old pieces of polished-up junk. But how to prove that? And who would care, even if he did? Except for the wife and maybe his daughters. Richard and his mis
tress were both consenting adults. Bucky had seen the woman—she had arrived voluntarily. She was certainly of age. If Ginger Zaring wanted to permanently mess up her life engaging in such reckless behavior with a prominent married man, that was her decision.

G
INGER DREW A BREATH
and put the newspaper aside.

Alyssa came in, her clothes for her movie-theater job on. She paused in the act of pinning her badge on her shirt. “Mom?” Alyssa looked at Ginger closely. “Are you okay?”

For someone who had permanently screwed up her life by trying to find the easy way out, Ginger thought. “Sure, honey.” She smiled at her daughter, doing her best to act as if nothing was wrong.

“You look kind of funny.”

Ginger’s hands curled around the society section.
There was no way Alyssa would ever put two and two together.
“I’m fine,” Ginger said even more firmly.

Alyssa got out the peanut butter and jelly and began making herself a low-cost meal to take to work. “How was your date last night?”

A mistake. Just like getting involved with Richard was a mistake.
“It was fine, too,” Ginger lied.

“Do you have to work today?” Alyssa added a small container of applesauce and a bag of chips to her lunch bag.

Ginger nodded as the telephone rang. “I’ve got the 4:00 p.m. to midnight shift.” Relieved to have a reprieve from her only child’s questions, Ginger picked up the phone and found Richard on the other end of the line.

“I have to see you,” he said.

D
R
. R
AMETTI BREEZED INTO
the exam room and greeted Daisy with a warm hello. She pulled up a stool next to the examining table where Daisy sat, wearing a pink paper gown and took a moment to study the notes her nurse had made on Daisy’s chart before looking back up at Daisy. “You’re looking good, like you’ve had some sun,” she remarked as she pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. “How are you doing?”

Daisy shrugged as the nurse helped her lie back and scoot down to put her feet in the stirrups. “Okay.”

Dr. Rametti patted Daisy’s knee. “It’d be all right if you weren’t, you know. It’s only been two weeks since you lost the baby and a fallopian tube.”

“I know.” Daisy had never known time could go as slowly as it had the past couple of weeks. The only way she seemed able to get through each day was by staying as busy as possible, working every minute she could, and falling exhausted into bed at night.

“I read in Bucky Jerome’s column that you got the staff photographer’s job with Grace Deveraux’s new television show.”

Daisy didn’t know how Bucky had known, and she wasn’t about to call him to find out, but he had reported her career coup before Daisy had even shown up for work! Fortunately, for a change, there had been nothing salacious in the item, no lousy or embarrassing picture
of her accompanying the article, just simple statement of fact.

Dr. Rametti adjusted the light so she could see what she was doing. “What’s the show called again?”

Daisy closed her eyes and tried not to think about the pelvic exam she was undergoing.
“At Home with Grace.”

Dr. Rametti indicated Daisy should slide a little farther toward the end of the table. “Is it a talk show?”

“More like a home and garden, family and child type thing,” Daisy said as she struggled to comply. “They do a lot of how-to segments, like Grace used to do on
Rise and Shine, America!
I photograph everything, and when the show is up and running, we’ll put the photographs on the Web. And of course use a lot of the shots for advertising and publicity, too.”

“Sounds challenging. Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes, very much so,” Daisy was pleased to admit. Grace couldn’t have been nicer to her once Daisy started working on the show. There were still moments from time to time when Daisy could tell that Grace was uncomfortable having Daisy around, but those moments were getting fewer and farther apart, and Daisy could imagine a day in the not so distant future when she would simply be Daisy to Grace, not her ex-husband’s illegitimate child. And that was a relief. To both of them.

“It must have been a hard job to get,” Dr. Rametti said conversationally as she stripped off her gloves and tossed them into the medical waste can.

Daisy nodded. She had been beyond stunned when Grace had called her just hours after Grace had flatly eliminated Daisy from the running, and said she wanted to let Daisy give the job a try after all. Daisy didn’t
flatter herself by thinking it was her talent that had gotten her in the door. She knew she was getting hired simply because Grace wanted to prove she could coexist peacefully with Daisy, and saw that as a way to do it. That sort of reverse nepotism had almost been enough to make Daisy refuse the job, but in the end, her need for money of her own, and the freedom it would buy her, prevailed over her stubborn pride. Whether or not the job worked out in the long run, Daisy had reassured herself firmly, didn’t matter nearly as much as the experience she would get from working on a television show.

Dr. Rametti picked up Daisy’s chart. “You’re not too tired?”

Daisy shrugged off the circles under her eyes as she sat up with the assistance of the nurse. “Tired can be a good thing right now.”

Dr. Rametti made a notation, then looked up. “How are you doing emotionally?”

Daisy shrugged again, not really wanting to get into that—with anyone. “I’m fine.”

Dr. Rametti lifted her eyebrow. Her nurse looked equally skeptical.

“There are times when it’s tough, but each day it gets a little better,” Daisy confessed after a moment.

“What about Jack?” Dr. Rametti gave her a brief, assessing glance, then continued empathetically, “This kind of thing can be tough on husbands, too, you know.”

Another road Daisy didn’t want to travel, she thought as she adjusted the paper gown across her waist. “Jack’s been busy, too.”

“I thought he might show up here with you.”

Daisy was still trying to figure out what to say that
wouldn’t disclose what she’d done—or more accurately failed to do—when a knock sounded on the exam-room door. Another nurse stuck her head in. “Mrs. Granger’s husband is here. If it’s okay, he’d like to come in.”

Daisy swore inwardly. She had been hoping to avoid just this.

“Sure.” Oblivious to the nature of Daisy’s thoughts, Dr. Rametti turned back to her. “Well, I guess that answers my question,” she said with a smile.

Looking capable and handsome in an olive-green business suit, Jack strode in and shook hands with Dr. Rametti. Briefly, Dr. Rametti brought him up to date. “Daisy’s doing just fine. Recovering nicely. So you’ll be happy to know you two have the green light to resume intercourse.”

Easy for you to say,
Daisy thought uncomfortably, doing her best to avoid Jack’s eyes and not feel so exposed in her current position.
You’re not trying to keep your heart intact.
It was dangerous for her to be feeling so dependent on him, given why and how they had entered into their marriage. Risky for him, too. She knew he was determined to be gallant about all this and do the right, the honorable thing. She also knew that he wasn’t looking to get hurt any more than she was. Pretending they could make their marriage real via wishful thinking was a shaky supposition to make. People, Daisy knew from bitter experience, just didn’t work that way. If they did, Charlotte would have been able to convince Richard to forget Daisy’s origins and love her unreservedly. But that wasn’t the case. And as far as Daisy’s father was concerned, she was still just “Iris’s mistake.”

Dr. Rametti continued cheerfully counseling them
both, “I know you’re probably both anxious to try again, but I’m going to advise you to be cautious and wait another few months, give Daisy’s body a chance to recover fully from the trauma it suffered, before trying to have another baby. So, if you’d like to go on the Pill in the interim, Daisy…?”

“Sounds good.” Daisy blushed despite herself and couldn’t look at Jack as Dr. Rametti wrote out a prescription. No harm in being safe.

Dr. Rametti handed the prescription to Daisy. “It’ll take a month before it’s effective, so in the meantime, please use condoms and/or contraceptive foam. Okay?”

Daisy and Jack nodded their understanding. Jack thanked Dr. Rametti for all she had done. “Don’t hesitate to call if anything comes up,” the doctor cautioned. Then she and the nurse left so Daisy could get dressed.

“You could have told me about the appointment,” Jack said the moment they were alone. “I would have been here with you for the entire time.”

Daisy knew that, which was precisely why she hadn’t told Jack about her medical appointment. “How’d you know I was here?” she asked as she scooted rather ungracefully toward the edge of the table and put her feet onto the step down.

Jack steadied her with a hand under her elbow, another at midspine. “I called you at the studio. They told me you’d left early because you had a doctor’s appointment.”

Daisy allowed him to help her down, then padded in her socks toward the tiny cubicle where her clothes were hanging. “Why did you call me?”

“Because Tom Deveraux asked me to,” Jack said,
reminding Daisy once again just to whom Jack’s first loyalty really lay.

Jack looked Daisy in the eye. “He needs to see you.”

“D
ID YOU GET
the papers from your sister?” Richard demanded as soon as Iris sat down in the country-club dining room.

Wishing she had made her excuses instead of showing up, Iris pretended to consult the lunch menu she already knew by heart. “Not yet.”

Richard gave Iris a glare only she could see. “I told you I wanted them.”

Heat crept into Iris’s cheeks. “It’s not that easy,” she said, returning her eyes to that day’s seafood specials. “After all the trouble Daisy went to get them, she’s not just going to hand them over.”

Richard closed his own menu and shifted it to the side of his plate. “So just take them and bring them to me.”

Iris closed her menu, too. “I have to find them first.”

“You were over there the week before last,” Richard said with a smile as he sipped his sparkling water. “You had the perfect opportunity.”

“I looked,” Iris retorted irritably. At least she had tried to look while Daisy had been in the kitchen talking with Charlotte.

The waiter appeared, to bring Iris her usual unsweetened iced tea and take their orders.

“And?” Richard demanded impatiently as soon as the waiter had left again.

Iris shrugged. “Daisy’s red file wasn’t in the kitchen, family room, living room or the study at the front of the house.”

Richard’s forehead knit together. “You checked everywhere?”

“That I could.” Iris studied the vase of fresh flowers
in the center of the table. “Jack’s desk and the file cabinets in the study were all locked. And of course I couldn’t rifle through every drawer with Daisy right there.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“What do you want me to do?” Iris blotted her fingers on the starched linen napkin spread across her lap. “Break in?”

Richard’s stony silence was Iris’s answer to that. “What about the bedroom?” he asked after a moment.

Iris took a sip of her tea to soothe her parched throat. “I didn’t have a chance to go back to that wing of the house because Jack came home and it was obviously time for us to go.”

“We can’t leave that paper trail in Daisy’s hands. You know how impetuous she is when she’s angry.”

Iris broke open a paper packet of artificial sweetener and added a little to her glass. “I also know she’s had plenty of opportunity to use it against us, and she hasn’t.” Iris paused to stir her tea. “If Daisy were going to tell anyone what she found out, she would already have done so.”

Richard’s eyes darkened. “I’m not just worried about her at the moment. I’m worried about Bucky Jerome and the way he keeps popping up wherever any of us are.”

Resentment boiled up inside Iris. “If he’s interested in the activities of our family, Father, it’s only because—”

“What?” Richard leaned forward slightly, daring Iris to confront him.

For once, Iris refused to back down in the face of her father’s considerable wrath. “You’ve gotten Bucky
interested with your flagrant extramarital activities,” she hissed right back.

Richard slashed her a warning look. “You need to be careful how you talk to me, dear.”

“And you need to be careful where you are when you indulge in such foolish and reckless activities,” Iris returned just as angrily. “I saw Ginger Zaring at the elementary school last week. I read Bucky’s column.”

Once again, her father was all ice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Richard said.

Yes, Iris thought, her father did. “If you don’t care about the business or the rest of us, you might at least think about Mother,” Iris said angrily.

The guilt Iris had hoped to see was simply not there. “What does Charlotte have to do with this?” Richard asked.

“Everything,” Iris’s low voice quavered emotionally. “She would be so hurt.”

Richard regarded Iris evenly. “She does not ever have to know.”

“You can’t keep—” Iris stopped, drew a deep breath, tried again. “You can’t do things like this right under her nose and keep expecting to get away with it! Sooner or later your luck is going to run out.” And then what would they all do? How would they survive that? Talk about scandal!

But once again, her father seemed not to care about his own sins, only those of his offspring.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Richard said tightly. “Now, back to what we were discussing. I want you to take care of that file as soon as possible.”

Iris gritted her teeth. “I won’t do it.”

“You’re defying me?”

Looks like, Iris thought, but aloud she said nothing, simply stared at him.

Richard stared back at her while he pushed away from the table and stood. “I trust you will take care of the check.” He walked off, leaving Iris alone with her black thoughts.

The knowledge of her father’s fooling around was not news to her. She’d had her blinders taken off when she was ten and had accidentally walked in on him and the pretty blond landscape architect in the potting shed out at Rosewood. Iris hadn’t understood a lot about lovemaking at the time, but she’d known not to tell her mother what she’d seen Richard and that woman doing, even before her father’s sternly voiced warning.

After that, Richard had become a lot more careful. Iris had had no doubt he was still having affairs—her parents’ separate bedrooms had told her that—but at least her father had had the good grace to keep it away from his family.

That had changed.

Now he no longer seemed to care, and in fact, appeared almost to want to get caught. And Iris had no idea what to do about that.

S
EVERAL HOURS LATER
, as Iris turned the Closed sign to the window of the shop and switched off the lights, she caught sight of Bucky Jerome once again. He was seated at a table against the window in the Starbucks across the street. He appeared to be working on something while enjoying a cup of coffee, but she knew he was really watching her. Watching all the Templetons. Too late, Iris realized she should have asked Tom Deveraux to meet her somewhere else, but when Tom had phoned her twenty minutes ago, needing to see her, she
had suggested he simply come to the store. Tom had agreed. And since that moment, she had been able to think of nothing else.

How was it possible, Iris wondered, that she could still have feelings for a man who blamed her for the eventual breakup of his marriage?

Especially when Iris knew that Tom Deveraux had never loved any woman other than Grace. And probably never would.