“I’m sorry,” Gloria said, an immediate reaction to hearing such news. She placed a hand on Forrest’s shoulder.
Forrest waved off her concern. “That’s all right. It’s my lot in life, I suppose. Anyhow, that’s how I got my money, Gloria. No secrets to share. No stock tips. Things … weren’t going well for me, but Pop’s fortune gave me new hope. I decided to let my heart dictate how I spent my money—that’s why I’m here.”
“So you can be close to Broadway?”
Forrest gave a little nod. “There’s been a lot of sadness in my life. Theater makes me happy. Besides, artsy folks are always such a hoot. They make me laugh like nobody else. Now that I’ve got some money, I’ve got another shot at happiness.”
“You think producing Broadway shows will make you happy?”
“With the right talent.”
“With Ruby, you mean?”
“I was actually talking about you.”
Gloria withdrew her hand from Forrest’s shoulder so she could place it over her heart, which was beating so rapidly she thought it might burst. A real Broadway producer wanted to work with her?
He smiled. “You blew the roof off my villa Saturday night, you really did.” He moved a little closer on the railing. Gloria could smell the salt in the water, and the movement of the yacht was making her seasick. “You know, doll, with the right role I bet I could make you a star.”
Gloria closed her eyes when she heard the word star.
Broadway. No more singing for drunken men who focused more on her body than her voice, no more frightening mobster bosses. She’d spend each afternoon and evening in a gilded theater full of well-dressed patrons who paid very well for the privilege to watch her perform.
Then she opened her eyes. Her stomach felt like it was being attacked by angry butterflies. People would be paying to watch her perform. And not just the cost of some gin at a nightclub. Tickets were expensive. What if she was bad, and they wanted their money back? What then? “I don’t really have any experience.”
“Well, how else do you think you get it, Glo?” He noticed when she dropped the butt of her cigar into the water. “So, what’d you think of your first cigar?”
“I liked it—very spicy. I should be unladylike more often.”
“Who says it has to end with a cigar? I have an idea!”
Without another word Forrest grabbed her hand and led her to the aft of the yacht. They climbed the short flight of stairs to the bridge deck. From there Gloria could look down and see Ruby, Marty, Glitz, and Glamour lying on their reclining deck chairs. Ruby read, Marty slept, and Glitz and Glamour pelted each other with cocktail olives. Glamour saw Gloria and Forrest and waved, using her other hand to overturn the entire jar of olives on Glitz’s head.
Gloria was sure Ruby noticed her—and Forrest as well—but the actress didn’t do anything more than purse her lips and return to her script.
Looking beyond Forrest’s houseguests, Gloria watched the bow cut into the deep-blue water like a knife. It was wonderful being so high up on the yacht—it made her feel like she was flying.
On the bridge deck, a man in a blue jacket with gold buttons and white trousers stood at the helm with both hands on the wooden steering wheel. He nodded at Forrest. “Afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon, Otto! I’d like you to meet the best singer in Chicago, New York, Long Island, and just about anywhere else she decides to grace with her presence: Gloria Carmody. Gloria, this is our captain, Otto Pendergast.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Carmody,” Otto said with a nod to Gloria. “I hear you were a real hit at Mr. Hamilton’s party Saturday evening.”
“She is one talented girl,” Forrest agreed. “You know what else she can do? She can steer a yacht!”
“What? No, I can’t!” Gloria exclaimed, laughing.
Forrest gave her a look of mock surprise. “You can’t? Well, that simply won’t do. I’m afraid I’ll have to take it from here, Otto.” He tapped the captain on the shoulder. “This is something of an emergency, as you can see. A singer who can’t drive a yacht! I’ve never heard of such madness.” Forrest took the wheel and Otto walked down the steps to the lower deck, leaving them alone. “Now, are you ready for your lesson?”
Gloria tried not to sigh. There Forrest was, off on another lark again. Yes, he was charming, but Forrest couldn’t seem to talk about anything serious for longer than a few seconds. Though, really, he’d told her where his money came from—he’d inherited it. Why did Hank think any different?
She didn’t want to spoil Forrest’s good mood by asking about his father. Best to play along and hope he let something else about his past slip. As long as things didn’t progress beyond flirtation, Jerome would understand.
Or at least, she hoped he would understand.
Gloria pasted on a smile. “Okay, what do I do?”
“Get in front of me, quick. We can’t have an unmanned ship for even a moment. I don’t think Glamour would forgive us if we swerved and made her trip over those mile-high heels of hers.”
Gloria chuckled and stepped in front of Forrest, awkwardly placing her hands on the steering wheel. The wood was smooth under her hands. She took a sharp breath when Forrest put his arms on either side of hers, latching his hands onto the wheel as well. The warmth of his breath on her neck mixed with the cool early-evening air, giving her chills.
“Now we just want to make a slight left here, nice and easy,” he said softly.
She tried to keep calm as Forrest continued to give her instructions and critique her steering. But it wasn’t a real lesson—Forrest was clearly just inventing an excuse to be close to her. Gloria had no idea where his sudden amorousness had come from. Had he finally given up on Ruby as a lost cause? Even if he had, Forrest knew about Jerome. Did he think things were over between Jerome and Gloria, simply because she hadn’t heard from him in a while?
And what about Jerome—what would he think if he could see her now?
Gloria looked down at the others on the foredeck. Glitz and Glamour lay on their stomachs in the bathing suits they’d worn beneath their dresses, attempting to further deepen their already perfect tans. Ruby was still reading and Marty was still asleep beside her. If any of Forrest’s guests looked up, they’d be able to see Gloria and Forrest perfectly.
They would even be able to see how Forrest’s arms were looped around Gloria’s.
It was hardly fair: Forrest could touch Gloria in public and no one cared. But every time Gloria had been out with Jerome, they had to remember not to hold hands or even let their gazes linger on each other for a beat too long. Every second they spoke to each other in public was a second they had to censor themselves for fear of inviting unwanted attention—simply because of the colors of their skin.
Gloria sighed and leaned back a little against Forrest. He wasn’t even pretending to teach her anything now—he was content to steer on his own with his arms around her. Was there any way it could ever be like this between her and Jerome? Free and easy, without dozens of angry, narrowed eyes glued to them wherever they went? Maybe if they lived somewhere in Europe. But how would they ever get there?
“I’m not going to learn much if you just steer the boat for me.” Gloria needed to get out of the circle of Forrest’s arms. She felt too guilty.
“Fair enough.” Forrest beckoned for Otto to return to his post. When he did, Gloria slipped away, and Forrest followed her. “Good job,” he said as they climbed back down the stairs to the main deck. “Now if you want to steal the yacht for a late-night ride on your own, you’ll be prepared.”
Gloria led the way back to the foredeck. “Steal your yacht? You really think I’m capable of that?”
Forrest grabbed Gloria’s hand, pulling her to him. “I think you, Gloria Carmody, are capable of anything.” He gave a quick glance behind Gloria toward the foredeck. Then he moved still closer to her and tilted his face toward hers.
Gloria stiffened. She hadn’t meant to lead
Forrest on, certainly not to the extent that he thought he could kiss her. She’d just been trying to get more information. How could she get away without insulting him? He finally seemed to trust her—Gloria didn’t want to lose that.
How ironic. A year and a half ago, it would’ve been a dream come true to have a handsome man take her out on his yacht and lean in for that big Hollywood kiss. Forrest was the sort of man Gloria had always wished Bastian could be.
But now she had Jerome. And as kind, handsome, funny, and clever as Forrest was, he would never win Gloria’s heart. It already belonged to Jerome. Now and forever.
Gloria took her hand back. Forrest could go ahead and be insulted. He could kick her out of his villa, even, and send her back to Hank with nothing. A lifetime in prison would be better than betraying Jerome like that. “We should probably get back to the others.”
“Gloria …,” Forrest said. “Listen. I know what it’s like.” His intense eyes were fixed on the blue sea that stretched out in front of them.
“What what’s like?”
“To follow your heart and damn the consequences! We understand each other, you and I, far better than you know.”
“Forrest, I don’t—”
“What are you two up to over there?” Glitz called out.
If Gloria spent another moment alone with Forrest, it wouldn’t be long before Glitz and Glamour started flapping their gums about the two of them to all of Long Island.
Gloria quickly walked the last few steps to the foredeck, and Forrest followed. “Forrest was teaching me how to steer the ship,” she said, and sank into a deck chair.
“And I had to get Gloria alone to talk about her career,” Forrest added. “I still can’t get over how much everyone adored her Saturday night.”
“I’m absolutely green with envy, Glo,” Glitz called. “I wish I were that good at something.”
“Don’t be silly, Glitz!” Glamour said. “You and I are both terrifically good at doing nothing. I challenge anyone to do nothing as well as we do!”
“You were wonderful, Gloria,” Ruby said from the other side of the deck. Even though she was giving Gloria a compliment, there was something acidic in Ruby’s tone. “I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t able to perform, wasn’t it?”
Forrest stared at Ruby for a moment; the two seemed to have a silent conversation with their matching eyes. They did this a lot—it made Gloria wonder how long they’d known each other.
Then Forrest turned to Gloria. “Yes, well, I plan to make Gloria an enormous star.” He winked. “If she’ll let me.”
“Are we really talking about work?” Glamour turned over on her chair. She pulled off her black swimming cap and ran her hand through her short gold curls. “Glitz and I are bored.”
Forrest sat on the empty chair beside her. “Well, we can’t have that. What would you ladies rather be doing?”
“I want to drink!” Glitz said. “And dance. Possibly at the same time.”
“Hear, hear!” Glamour said. She winked at Gloria. “Enough of you lovebirds puttering around the bay.”
Damn, Gloria thought. That wink meant that gossip about Gloria and Forrest was sure to be churning through the high-society rumor mill by morning.
Forrest looked out at the sun, which was beginning to dip in the pale blue sky. “I guess it is getting a little late. I’ll go tell Otto to bring us in.” He stopped by Gloria’s chair and pointed at her. “You better save me a dance, doll.”
Gloria reddened and looked across the foredeck to where Ruby was sitting with her husband. Marty was still asleep; his graying hair flopped over his lobster-red forehead and his white suit was rumpled.
Ruby was his polar opposite in a black halter dress and a wide-brimmed white hat with a black scarf tied around it. The starlet was watching Forrest. Once he was out of sight, she shifted her gaze to Gloria. Her eyes were narrowed and she was frowning.
Gloria rose from her chair and walked over to Ruby’s. “So, how’s it been going down here?”
Ruby shrugged. “Just work, work, and more work.” She smiled, but again, something that was supposed to be friendly came off as bitter instead. “I certainly haven’t been having as much fun as you and Forrest.” Ruby’s gaze turned wistful and Gloria followed it up to the foredeck, where Forrest was talking to Otto. From her vantage point, Ruby could see the steering wheel perfectly. And she’d probably had a better view of Gloria and Forrest at the railing than any of the others.
Now it was clear: Forrest hadn’t developed sudden, inexplicable feelings for her. He’d simply been trying to make Ruby jealous! Gloria felt a rush of relief at this realization—and just tried to ignore the tiny pang of disappointment that accompanied it.
Gloria didn’t love being used, but at the same time she understood. Ruby obviously had feelings for Forrest. But that didn’t mean she was going to just up and leave her husband without a fuss. So by making her jealous, Forrest was really just trying to get Ruby to own up to her feelings and take the next step.
Still, after tonight, Forrest would have to find some other pawn to use in his games with Ruby. Gloria knew where his money came from now, and there was nothing shady about it. After they got home, Gloria would search the villa properly at last. She knew “inheritance” wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the bureau—but Forrest had to have some kind of documentation of his fortune, didn’t he? Maybe a copy of his father’s will or some bank statements?
She would call Hank in the morning. Tell him he’d been wrong about Forrest. Hank had told her to get information, and Gloria had gotten it.
She just had to hope it was enough for him.
It was nearly two in the morning by the time Gloria arrived at her bedroom. Her feet hurt from hours of dancing at a nearby beachfront club. She wanted nothing more than to sink into her cloud-soft bed. But Gloria knew that everyone else in the house was just as exhausted as she was. And that made it the perfect time to do some snooping.
Gloria hung up her dress and took out her pearl earrings. As she pulled a lacy white nightgown over her head, she heard a knock at the door. She groaned. Didn’t Glitz and Glamour ever get tired?
She grabbed a silky blue robe and flung it over her shoulders, then yanked open the door, ready to dismiss those silly girls. She gasped at who was on the other side.
Not Glitz or Glamour.
It was Jerome.
“Oh my God!” she said, nearly fainting at the sight of him. He was wearing the white shirt, black tie, and white jacket all the servants wore. He had a bruise on one cheek and another near his jaw. And he looked so thin.
But he was here. Even handsomer than she remembered, which Gloria hadn’t thought was possible. His brown eyes were nearly copper with the way they lit up at the sight of her. His full lips peeled back into a smile that warmed Gloria all over.
“Oh, Gloria,” he said, his voice breaking.
“Jerome! How did you get in here? What happened to you?”
Gloria couldn’t look at him for a moment longer—she was too busy wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his shoulder. His strong arms rose to hug her tightly in return, and his hand combed through her hair over and over.
“God, I missed you,” Jerome murmured into her ear, dotting kisses along her earlobe and down her neck.
Gloria pulled back to give him a fierce, hungry kiss before she burrowed back into his arms. The two of them fit as perfectly together as they always had, as if no time had passed. His heart pounded against her ear, and she wanted to get even closer.
She walked backward toward the bed without moving out of his arms, and began to unbutton his shirt. She didn’t know where Jerome had been, or what he’d been doing.
But Gloria knew this: She wasn’t letting him go. Not ever again.
CLARA
Clara wished she could’ve spent her Monday the exact same way she’d spent the past seven Mondays—sleeping off her hangover from the night before.
But thanks to
Lorraine Dyer and her talent for ruining everything, Clara was sitting in a private investigator’s office, not hungover in the least, digging around in her briefcase for her rapidly expanding file on Anastasia Rijn. She found it and withdrew the engagement photograph clipped to the first page of her notes.
Clara reached across Solomon’s desk to hand him the photo. The desk was covered with teetering stacks of folders, old newspapers, and several open notebooks.
Solomon was as sloppy as his dim, cramped office. He was balding, and his black eyebrows were bushy enough to barely qualify as two separate entities. His checkered bow tie was coming loose, and mustard spots covered his collar and tweed jacket. If her colleagues at the Manhattanite hadn’t spent the morning telling her so, Clara never would’ve believed this pudgy mess of a man was the best in the business.
Solomon stared at the photo for only a few seconds before tapping his finger over Anastasia’s pretty face. “She’s cleaned up well,” he remarked. “What name is she going under these days?”
“Anastasia Rijn,” Clara said.
“How’d you find her?”
“She’s engaged to someone I know. A student who goes to school with Anastasia told me she thought there was something fishy about her. So I showed her picture to a few reporters at work, just to see if anyone had any dirt on her.”
“Makes sense,” Solomon replied. “Salacious scandals are the Manhattanite’s bread and butter.”
“My thinking exactly. Our features editor didn’t recognize her, but he gave me the number of his contact in the Barnard admissions office. I found out that Anastasia Rijn is a foreign transfer student at Barnard, speaks with a foreign accent. But she’s only taking a single class, and I wasn’t able to find anyone who knew about her background. She’s telling people she’s from France, and that she arrived in New York in the spring or early summer, but no one at Ellis Island was able to locate a record of her passage.”
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