A Scandal at Eastwick

by L. C. Warman

  Clarissa’s gaze flattened into something suspicious and hostile. “Alyssa is happy,” she spat. “She’s in love.”

  “But she’s your friend, too. And if you weren’t happy—”

  “So what if I wasn’t?” Clarissa said. “She’s not obligated to follow me around and coddle me.”

  “But she invited you to spend the holiday here, didn’t she? And you don’t know anyone else in the area.”

  “I do too!” Clarissa protested, knuckles whitening as she gripped the blanket draped over her. “I only go to college half an hour away, in the city—” Her mouth snapped closed, face paling, and she said quickly, “I can leave anytime I want.”

  Lia assessed her. “But you don’t live in-state.”

  “Not anymore. But I grew up here.” With a touch of pride in her voice.

  “Right. But now you only come back for college. And you’re not an undergrad, right? You must be in graduate school.”

  “What does it matter?” Clarissa said hotly. “What do you care?”

  “Well, you didn’t have to come here to St. Clair at all, for the holidays. But you came with Alyssa—to be a good friend to her.”

  Clarissa hesitated, as if this were a test. “Yes.”

  “Because it was her first time coming here?”

  Clarissa scowled. “Because she was nervous to meet Harry’s family, if you have to know, and yeah, it was a little moral support.”

  Could Clarissa have done it, then? Was she capable of writing a blackmail note to her best friend’s boyfriend’s mother, and coolly delivering it at a party? What did she possibly hope to gain? Money, obviously, but why like this? How?

  “Well,” Lia said, falling back to her first line of questioning. “She could have been a little more supportive of you, couldn’t she?”

  Clarissa laughed without humor. “You know how much of a snake this makes you, don’t you?” she said. “Trying to weasel your way in between your ex’s new girlfriend and her best friend. Are you jealous of Alyssa? Is that why you’re trying to ruin her?”

  It was Lia’s turn to blush. “Not in the least. I just want to know why you were upset that night.”

  “Oh, is that right? Because you’re concerned about me, I suppose?”

  “Frankly? No. I’m not. But I want to know if it had anything to do with the blackmail.”

  Clarissa blinked, surprised. Lia tried to reconcile the emotion with what she knew of Clarissa: did that mean that she indeed was not the blackmailer? That she had something else on her mind that was more serious, more important, at least to her?

  “It had nothing to do with the blackmail,” Clarissa said. “From what I hear, you were the one who wrote that note anyway.”

  “Well, I didn’t. So Alyssa was happy and in love that night, and her best friend, you…you weren’t.” Lia took a guess. “You were…heartbroken.”

  The rage on Clarissa’s face told her plainly that she had hit home, and Lia felt a thrill of victory. “I was not!” Clarissa said hotly, turning two shades redder. She rose, tossing off her blanket. “You’re an embarrassment, you know that? What are you, thirty? And now you come home and try to get back in with everyone you left and stir up drama that isn’t there just so you can pretend you belong. Alyssa told me you’ve been talking to Harry alone, you know. Trying to get him back.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You can save it. You think she’s stupid enough to think that when an ex-girlfriend is insisting on spending time alone with a guy, it’s because she ‘just wants to help his family?’ What a joke.”

  Focus, Lia told herself, but Clarissa’s words hit too close to home to be easily done away with. She took a deep breath, trying to blot out from her mind the fact that it did look suspicious, her talking to Harry, trying to ignore the fact that people would be talking, because that’s what people did, and no amount of protestations from Lia would put an end to that.

  Clarissa saw her advantage and pressed forward. “Alyssa knows exactly what your game is, and she feels sorry for you. Sorry that you didn’t make better decisions when you were younger, or go to college, or do really anything that should have been obvious to someone like you, but you’ve made your bed.”

  “Gee, I’m sorry you’ve never made a mistake in your life,” Lia said, which was all wrong, not at all what she had meant to say. She shook her head, rising as well. “I’m not interested in Harry. I just don’t want everyone to always be thinking the worst about me. But I suppose it’s too late for that.”

  She was half-bluffing when she started, but Lia realized, as she said the words, that they were entirely true. What was she working so hard to save, anyway? Her reputation in St. Clair was all but shot. Her friends were barely friends with each other anymore. Her ex had moved on, and so had she. Even Lucas, the one person who had been kind to her, had withdrawn, as if he had realized that Lia’s energy could only bring him down, as if he had finally understood just how toxic Lia was to St. Clair.

  Lia would leave and not come back. She would go east, find a new town, build a new life. She’d be tight with her money, take college classes if she needed to, find work that was fulfilling, and settle into a new rhythm. She’d make friends: she’d work hard at it if she had to, though the friendships might never be of the kind of her youth, forged during that raw period where people hadn’t yet learned to hide their true selves. She would be okay. But she was tired of beating her head against the wall, tired of demanding to belong, to be worthy. Los Angeles had not given that to her; St. Clair, it seemed, could not either.

  “Wait,” Clarissa said, hesitating, just as Lia turned to leave. “Look—I’m sorry. I’m being hard on you. I don’t—I mean, it’s not my business, what’s going on over there. I don’t know who is blackmailing Harry’s mom and I don’t really care.” Her voice took on a bitter note. “She’s a terrible person.”

  Clarissa sank back onto the couch, and after some hesitation, Lia did too.

  Clarissa sighed. “I can’t think of one person I met here who had anything nice to say about her,” Clarissa muttered. “Well—maybe one. But I was talking to some of Harry’s friends, the girl with dark hair? And the short one?”

  “Julia and Bella.” It hurt to hear them called Harry’s friends.

  “Yeah. And she’s said awful things about both of them. The other girl—”

  “Katie.”

  “Yeah. She didn’t seem to like her either. And it’s not even like Alyssa is a huge fan. So it could have been anyone.”

  “You don’t like her either, I take it.”

  Clarissa’s face puckered as though she had just eaten something sour. “No. No, I don’t. She’s self-absorbed, selfish, and snobbish. She’s like the worst combination of rich people traits I’ve ever seen. And she’s just so…clingy.”

  “Clingy?”

  “She never lets Harry do anything on his own,” Clarissa said, after a short pause. “She bought him his condo, you know. And it’s in her name. And she reminds him of that every time they have an argument, or he wants to remodel something, or he suggests getting a dog. Who would want to live with that kind of a woman?”

  Clarissa seemed surprisingly angry at such a thought, for someone who wasn’t dating Harry. Unless… “Harry’s a nice guy,” Lia ventured carefully. “That’s probably tough for him to deal with.”

  “It’s tough for anyone to deal with!” Clarissa burst.

  “It doesn’t bother Alyssa, though?”

  Clarissa blinked, as if she had forgotten Alyssa’s connection to the discussion entirely. “Well, no. Not right now. She’s just super concerned with making a positive impression. Too concerned,” added Clarissa bitterly. “She doesn’t want me to say anything negative about anybody, even if—”

  “Even if?”

  Clarissa shrugged. “She wants to pretend that the McKenzies are this perfect little family, even if some of them aren’t.” Clarissa crossed her arms. “She treats James just the same way, you know. Al
ways holding his mistakes over his head. No wonder he’s always so stressed out.”

  “You know James, then?”

  Caution flooded Clarissa’s face. “Just a little. From what I hear from Harry, and Alyssa.”

  “So when you were upset that night…it was over how Paulette, Mrs. McKenzie, was treating Harry? And James?”

  Again that wall slammed shut over Clarissa’s face. Lia felt a thrill of understanding. It couldn’t be…but then, it just made sense…. “I suppose,” Clarissa answered stiffly. “Alyssa doesn’t notice it. But she’s just awful. She told me that I was silly to be getting a graduate degree in a ‘soft’ field, can you believe that? As if her brother-in-law isn’t a humanities professor.” Clarissa blushed.

  “That would have upset me for sure,” Lia said sympathetically.

  “Yes, well, it’s fine. I’m over it. She’s just a nasty woman, that’s all.” Clarissa shrugged. “Anyway. I don’t know who blackmailed her, but to be honest, I hope they get all of their money and more.”

  Lia rose and said her good-byes. She felt flushed, and wanted to get out of the small rental before Clarissa caught on to her mood. As Lia broke into the cold winter air, it was all she could do to keep from punching the sky and leaping up in excitement. Clarissa had a secret, and Lia was pretty sure she had guessed it.

  Clarissa had been having an affair with James.

  And James was blackmailing his mother to pay her off.

  Chapter 34

  Lia went back to the Eastwick mansion first, trying to gather her wits about her for what must inevitably come next. She wasn’t ready to confront anyone, not yet, and a good part of her still wished to shove all of it away and move on, away from St. Clair, away from the blackmail, away from the town full of beautiful and terrible secrets and lies coated in varnish.

  The Eastwick mansion looked peaceful in the late winter afternoon: its gates were dusted with a fine layer of snow, and the branches of its maple trees glistened with ice. It looked as though it were part of a fairy tale, slumbering until its prince should come home. And he would—John Eastwick Jr. would return with his mother to lay claim to their house, and Lia would gladly relieve herself of its burden and all of the pain it had brought with it.

  It seemed to Lia that all of the most beautiful things brought heartache. Leaving for Los Angeles, returning home, falling in love, breaking up…beauty could not exist without it. St. Clair, certainly, was beautiful inasmuch as it could be awful as well, full of wealth and enchantments, but full of secrets and yearnings too. Was that how Clarissa felt, Lia wondered? She was in love with James, but the love was corrupted—the beauty of romance mixed with the betrayal of infidelity, the promise of a future rent by the presence of the past. And James…. What fear and deception could have driven him to lie to his wife and blackmail his mother? What was his end game, if indeed Lia was right in her assumptions?

  Lucas had finally texted Lia back: he had been at work, he said, and suggested they meet in town for coffee. It’s fine, Lia thought to herself. You don’t have to try to let me down gently. There’s nothing for me here—I don’t need it spelled out for me. She ignored him.

  Lia showered, her mind spinning over the possibilities. She could confront James. Tell him what she knew. See if he would admit his transgressions to her, and put a stop to the blackmail once and for all. She could go to Harry. Tell him what she suspected and let him deal with it from there.

  But the problem was, if it was James who was blackmailing Paulette—well, then James had to know, didn’t he? Maybe he, too, had wandered up into that old closet and stumbled across the secret. Except, she didn’t think so. Paulette was too careful, too unassuming.

  She was still mulling over her options when the doorbell rang.

  “Lucas!” Lia said when she opened it.

  Lucas grinned. “I was worried you’d run off again.”

  “Nope. Here for another day, at least. I was thinking of renting a car and driving out. Or taking the train.” Whichever was cheaper, honestly—to let her windfall from house-sitting the Eastwick mansion take her as far as possible.

  “Can I come in?”

  Lia moved aside, shivering as a blast of cold air hit her. Lucas was dressed in a button-down and slacks, probably fresh from work, and had a paper clutched in one hand. She tried to hide her giddiness that he had shown up after all, that she had not been ghosted by this one St. Clairite. Then Lia’s mind flashed to the dramatic: perhaps Lucas was the blackmailer, the villain come to corner her just as she was about to make her dramatic move and final escape. But Lucas followed her into the kitchen and sat demurely on one of the kitchen stools, still smiling.

  “I’m still not sure we can convince you to give St. Clair another chance,” he said, “but I wanted to give you these.” He pushed the papers over and Lia picked them up, flipping through. “It’s a list of all the businesses in St. Clair. The highlighted ones are looking for employees. The circled ones are the ones I know personally, in case you need a reference.”

  Lia blushed. “Oh, that’s too nice of you. But I’m not even sure if—”

  “If you’re staying, I know. You can take it out east with you. Peruse it at your leisure. Just wanted you to know that there are options, if you ever want to come back.”

  Lia glanced up at Lucas. He seemed more serious, suddenly, a little nervous. “Why are you being so nice to me?” Lia blurted.

  “What, that’s not allowed?”

  “Well, no, it’s actually quite appreciated. But in case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t really gotten the warmest welcome.”

  Lucas shrugged. “That’s nothing, really. You have to give people time. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with, and sometimes, it’s just easier to hold on to things from the past. Distracts you from the present.”

  “Very philosophical.”

  Lucas grinned. “I do my best.”

  Lia nodded, considering. She certainly was doing her own fair share of holding on to the past—lamenting the loss of high school, when all had been simple and sweet, wishing she could erase the years she had spent pursuing a dream in Hollywood that was never to be. She had wanted a fresh start so badly, which was why coming home to St. Clair had been so utterly painful. The blackmail accusation—that had been embarrassing, yes, but was nothing compared to the torture Lia put herself through when she thought of St. Clair, when she viewed it as some entity that she could never again connect herself to.

  But the past was the past—and Lia could see what holding on to past humiliations could do to a person. Paulette had always been self-absorbed and a little cruel, but this secret that she harbored had made her maniacal. It consumed her. Would that be Lia’s fate, if she obsessed over her past mistakes?

  Lia felt Lucas watching her as these thoughts flashed across her mind. “Your friends want you back,” Lucas said. “They just need some time to get over themselves. Like we all do.”

  Lia laughed. She wasn’t sure—Julia, she had heard, was moving out of town to be with her fiancé. And Atul didn’t talk to Katie or Bella anymore. Could something be salvaged there? Did it matter, now that they were all adults?

  Katie. Something was bothering her about Katie.

  “You okay?” Lucas asked.

  “What? Oh, yes,” Lia said. “I was just thinking about one of my friends. Katie.”

  “What about her?”

  “She told me something today…she said to talk to Clarissa. About the blackmail.”

  “And?”

  Lia shook her head. “Clarissa didn’t do anything. But I think I know who did.”

  “And you’re going to leave me in suspense?”

  Lia grinned. “The point is, I wonder if Katie knew that she was wrong.”

  “Or if she led you astray?”

  “Maybe. Though I don’t see why she would.”

  “Maybe Clarissa was lying to you.”

  “Possible, of course. Anything is. It’s just…” Lia sighed.

&
nbsp; “You won’t tell me your theory?”

  “Not until I know for sure. I have to talk to someone first.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  Lia shook her head. “No. I definitely have to do this part alone. But thanks. And hey, thanks for the print-out, too.”

  “Lia Logan, you’re not getting my hopes up, are you?”

  Lia grinned again at him. “No. Keep your expectations low.”

  “I will, in the hope you’ll exceed them.” Lia laughed, but Lucas looked suddenly serious. “Hey,” he said, “just so you know, my vote is that you stay. There’s a lot of good stuff happening here. And if you haven’t decided on a home—St. Clair is as good as any. Better than most. Though I know I’m biased.”

  “Anyone would be who lived here their whole life.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Lucas said. He held her gaze for a few beats until Lia blushed and looked away. Lucas and Harry were no longer close, it was true, but back in the day he had been one of Harry’s good friends.

  “Thanks,” Lia said. “Really—I’m glad I ran into you here.”

  The silence stretched before them, awkward and pregnant. Lia’s heart fluttered, and she felt silly and stupid and wonderful all at the same time. Of course she couldn’t stay, not now—she wouldn’t be the idiot who let the possibility of a romance keep her somewhere, without a job, without any prospects, without a place to live. What kind of person would she be then? And anyhow, he still might mean…Lucas was a good guy, he probably felt sorry for her, it was all probably just kindness and sympathy…

  “I should go,” Lia said, when she couldn’t take it any longer. “I have one more visit to make.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  Lucas nodded. “Be safe, okay?”

  He hugged her, and Lia squeezed back. She wondered if it would be the last time they saw each other in St. Clair.

  Lucas seemed to think it might be, too, for when he got to the door he turned and said, “I’m glad you came back, Lia Logan. Even if only for a little while.”

  Chapter 35