Tracie Peterson (41 page)

“I take it as seriously as it needs to be taken,” Brook said, tired of being browbeaten by her manager.

“Well, that’s not how I see it. You’re thirty years old and your days of playing the youthful fun-girl are over. You can’t get the same modeling jobs you used to because your age is starting to show. No one wants to peddle to a young market by using an old has-been.”

Brook stood up and smoothed the lines of her black skirt. She’d taken all she was going to take. She’d tried to talk reasonably to Miriam—not only the day before, but also this morning before their production meeting—and nothing phased the woman. She wouldn’t have cared if all of Brook’s family had just dropped dead, and she wasn’t about to allow Brook to take off again and risk spoiling yet another good job.

“Well, this old has-been is going to make it official,” Brook announced, looking at her colleagues. “I quit. I’ve taken your cutthroat way of doing business long enough.” She took up a cardigan that matched the shell she was wearing and grabbed her purse off the back of her chair.

Miriam stood speechless at the end of the table. Her eyes were
wide in stunned surprise, but no more so than the other eight girls who sat around the table. Brook had tried to find a way to make friends with them all, but realized now how little she knew about any of them. Short of sharing their gripes and complaints about Miriam and their jobs, they rarely ever shared anything personal.

Brook had thought to simply stalk out of the room riding high on her own determination, but instead she stopped and shook her head. “I’m sick to death of the pretenses and falsehoods this city seems to perpetuate. I’m tired of being held up as valuable only for my looks and my ability to wear clothes. I’m bored and frustrated by a world where no one ever talks to each other except to lie about who they were last seen partying with or what prince or king they plan to vacation with. I’m tired of parties where I’m endlessly paraded around to clients as though I were nothing more than this week’s produce.”

She looked hard at Miriam. “But perhaps most of all, I’ve had more than I’m going to take of listening to you suggest that I’m selfish and foolish for putting my family ahead of my career. After all, you’ve been telling me for months, even years, that my career is the same as over. Why should it bother either one of us if I walk away?”

“You have . . . you have a contract!” Miriam declared.

“Yes, I suppose I do. You can discuss that issue with my lawyers,” Brook said calmly. “But I fail to see why you would want an ‘old has-been’ under contract.”

“You tell her, Brook,” Kristy chimed in. “We’re all sick and tired of your attitude, Miriam. We’re people, not cattle. You can push us around and send us from one location to another, but we have very real needs in our lives and I, for one, salute Brook for having the guts to tell you.”

Miriam took this salvo without so much as flinching. “In a few short months, you aren’t going to find anyone who’s so much as willing to look at your portfolio, much less hire you for modeling.”

Kristy shrugged. “It won’t be your concern, Miriam. My contract is up next week, as you well know. I think I’ve just ended our negotiations with regard to renewing.”

Several of the girls gasped in surprise, but Brook fixed her gaze on Miriam and realized what a sad example of womanhood she’d become. Brook remembered her manager years earlier when she’d seemed vibrant and full of life and concern for mankind. But after a rather ugly divorce from a man she’d been married to for fifteen years, Miriam had never recovered. It made Brook sad to realize that she was only causing the woman more grief, but she also realized there was a tremendous liberty in being the one to say “enough.”

“I wish I could have known you all a little better,” Brook said, taking her gaze from Miriam’s still-stunned expression to the table of her co-workers. “We might have made life a little better for one another. I feel like I don’t know much about any of you, and I’m sure you know very little about me. But this morning I woke up and realized that I needed to make some tough choices, because frankly, we all know Miriam is right. Our looks will fade. Our popularity is determined by the sales of products and magazines, but ultimately it’s settled by public opinion. And quite honestly, I don’t like having to keep up with what someone else thinks of me. I figure God has a purpose for me, and it isn’t focusing on myself.”

She moved to the door of the conference room and paused as she opened the door. “If you’re ever in Council Grove, Kansas, come look me up. I don’t know that I’ll still be there, but I do know that wherever I am, I’ll be a whole lot happier than I was here.”

She pulled on her cardigan and stepped out of the room. Freedom! That was the only word for it. She had obtained her freedom. Oh, she knew it would cost her something in breaching her contract and ending it ahead of time, but she didn’t care. She had enough money invested. She could afford the loss. Especially given that she would soon sell her apartment and move from New York altogether.

The cab ride back to her apartment gave her time to reflect on her years in New York. Ashley was right. She had spent her time running from love and commitment, all because her mother had failed to live up to their expectations. She had denied herself the chance at real happiness in order to settle the score with a woman who never
even realized how much she’d hurt Brook.

The cabby pulled up in front of her apartment, and Brook quickly paid him and hurried inside just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Even a summer downpour wasn’t going to dampen her spirits.

Two hours later, Brook cinched herself into a first-class seat on a plane bound for Kansas City. In spite of the fact that the rain had refused to move on out into the Atlantic, Brook maintained her spirit of enthusiasm. She almost felt guilty for her lighthearted manner. After all, she was headed home for a funeral. But even Dave’s death couldn’t bind her in the chains that had held her captive for years and years. God had given her the strength to move forward.

I trust you, Lord
, she prayed,
and I know you’ll show me the next step
.

Deirdre listened patiently to her in-laws as they questioned her for every detail of Dave’s last days. She knew they longed for a connection—something that would help them to put closure on the situation. They asked her about a suicide note, and Deirdre said that while there was a note, the police had kept it. She didn’t tell them that she had a copy. She didn’t see the need in sharing it with them. It said nothing about them, and she feared it would have reflected poorly on Dave. He believed himself to have done something bad enough to die for. His parents would only be wounded by that.

“I don’t understand them keeping the note,” Mike Woodward said, his hand still clinging tightly to his wife’s.

“It’s evidence. They kept it along with the gun,” Deirdre said calmly.

About that time, Morgan emerged from the suite’s bedroom. She carried her favorite doll close to her body. Her protective manner made Deirdre think of how she longed to shield Morgan from the pain they were all experiencing.

“Poor baby,” Julie said softly. “Has she been like this since . . . since . . .”

Deirdre knew it was impossible for her to finish the sentence, so she answered very simply, “Yes.”

Morgan didn’t even seem to notice that they were talking about her. She climbed over the arm of the wing-backed chair where Deirdre sat and snuggled herself tightly against her mother.

“Morgan, Grandma and Grandpa Woodward are going to take care of you while Grammy and Mommy run to town and take care of some things. I’ll bring you back something to eat, but I want you to be good for your grandparents. Okay?”

Morgan said nothing. She started sucking on her thumb and drew the doll up under her chin. Deirdre gently stroked her head and turned back to Julie and Mike. “I appreciate your help. I want to take care of things so that after the funeral, Morgan and I can immediately go to Council Grove.”

“You know, you could come back to St. Louis with us,” Julie said, glancing at her husband. “We’d love to have you there.”

Deirdre nodded. “I know you would and I appreciate that. But I have to have time to think, and the farm has always been healing for me.”

They seemed to understand, but Deirdre knew they were grasping at straws. Anything was better than nothing, and anything connected to their son meant just one more way in which to reach him.

Mattie came from the back room, gathering up her things. “Are you ready, Deirdre? Erica and Connie will probably be here any minute.”

Deirdre eased her way off the chair and out of Morgan’s reach. “I won’t be gone long, sweetie,” she told her daughter. It would be the first time since the police station nightmare that they had been separated.

Morgan scarcely even glanced up at her. It was almost as if the child had simply resolved that life and its disappointments could only hurt you if you paid attention to them. She seemed to drift in and out of her own world, making no declarations or requests, seeming not to notice anything or anyone.

Deirdre knew she was going to have to do something for the child, but it seemed senseless to start that in Kansas City. They were, after all, going to Mattie’s for an extended stay. She’d find someone in Council Grove who could help. Maybe by that time Morgan would have snapped out of her silence and returned to being the sweet, chatty little girl Deirdre had always loved.

Mattie and Deirdre walked in silence to the hotel lobby. Deirdre appreciated that Mattie could understand what she was going through. She wouldn’t have wished the experience on anyone, but it helped to know that someone else knew what it was like to lose her husband.

“There’s Erica,” Mattie commented as they came through the hotel’s entry doors.

Erica waited with Connie in the parking lot just off the office entrance. Deirdre slipped into the backseat and Mattie did likewise.

“If you’d rather sit up here,” Connie said softly, “I can move.”

Deirdre knew that everyone was treating her with kid gloves. It was like they watched her for clues, then calculated what their actions should be.

“Look, everybody, I’m better now. I’m not happy, nor do I understand why this has happened, but you don’t have to worry that I’m going to go off the deep end. Just treat me normally. Ask your questions and talk to me like you used to.”

“Well, I don’t have a question,” Erica said, maneuvering the car into traffic, “but I would like to say something.”

“Go right ahead,” Deirdre encouraged.

“Connie and I have been talking and we both agree that Dave’s death has caused us to realize how limited our time on earth can be. We don’t want our final words to each other to be words of anger.”

“That’s right,” Connie joined in from the front passenger seat. “I know I’ve been a miserable sister to you both, but I’m hoping to do better.”

Deirdre nodded and noted the tears that seemed to instantly form in Mattie’s eyes. Her grandmother said nothing but looked out the window as if preoccupied by the passing scenery.

“We all need to do better,” Deirdre said simply.

At the bank, Deirdre took up the death certificates she’d been given by the funeral home and went in to close out Dave’s private accounts and to consolidate everything into one new account. An account that would bear only one name—hers.

She tried to be calm about the whole thing, but she felt unsure of what she had to do. This was the beginning of putting Dave out of her life, she thought. Then she shook her head and knew that she’d never be able to put Dave out of her life, no matter how hard she tried.

“I need to close out two accounts,” she told the teller, then added, “and start up a completely new one.”

The woman directed her to take a seat at a desk in the middle of the lobby. Within a few minutes a suit-clad businessman joined her.

“I’m Ralph Warner,” he stated and extended his hand for her to shake.

Deirdre did so and nodded. “I’m Deirdre Woodward. I have, or I should say, my husband and I have two accounts with your bank. I’d like to close those out and start another account.”

“May I ask why?” he questioned, taking his seat in the richly upholstered leather chair.

“My husband passed away last weekend. I’m the executor of his estate and have the papers and death certificates with me today. I need to put my business in order prior to leaving town.” She put the death certificate on the desk, then added the checkbook for their joint account. “I don’t have Dave’s checkbook with me, but here’s the number for the account. You’ll find I’m the beneficiary on the account.” She pushed a piece of paper across the desk to join the other articles.

“I’m sorry to hear about your husband, Mrs. Woodward. I can’t say that I knew him personally, but I would still like to extend my condolences.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He took up the certificate and Deirdre watched as he glanced
over the details. She saw him raise his gaze to her for the tiniest moment. No doubt he had come to the place that listed the cause of death as a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

The man nodded and turned to his computer. “Just let me pull up all of the pertinent information.”

Deirdre sat back in the chair and watched as he worked. He wouldn’t find all that much of interest. Dave had a private account for tax purposes, and this was where he put all of his money. Afterward, he would cut her a check for their shared account and it was with this that she would run the household and pay all of the other bills.

“And you say you want to put everything into one account?” he questioned.

“Yes, a new account with just my name,” Deirdre replied. “I’ve talked with the life insurance company and there may or may not be insurance money coming our way. If a large sum is issued, however, I might want to open up a savings account as well. It’ll just depend.”

“So you want the entire thirty-five thousand in checking?” he asked seriously. “You could earn better interest if you put most of it into a certificate of deposit. Unless, of course, you need the money right away.”