Winkle felt as though he’d been electrocuted. “Eben Bean and Bessie Armbuckle!” he shouted. “You’re the reason I’m here tonight!” He turned to Geraldine, who was being protected from the cold by Angus. “Mama,” he shouted. “May I introduce you to your missing twins?”
Geraldine looked at him dumbfounded. Then she looked down at Eben, who resembled Pop-Pop with his white beard. Bessie’s loose hair hung around her face the way hers did when she didn’t wear it up. She bent over and started to cry. For the first time in her life she was allowed to wrap her arms around her babies.
Fifty-six years after the birth, huddled in the swirling snow on a cold mountaintop in Aspen, Geraldine couldn’t feel anything but the warmth of their bodies. She didn’t think she would ever let go.
62
BACK AT THE restaurant, the aftermath of the tear-gas attack and the theft of the Beasley had turned into a celebration. The place was still a shambles, and Louis’s attack of nerves had almost killed him, but when Geraldine came walking through the door with Eben on one side, Bessie on the other, and Angus close at her heels, Louis wanted to cry. So he did. To think that Eben was Geraldine’s son!
Most of the guests had left amid the hysteria. But the media hadn’t. News crews and reporters were still swarming about. When the caravan from Observation Point got back, Louis had called upon his staff, minus Tripp, to prepare plates of scrambled eggs, muffins, pots of coffee, and, of course, to bring out the champagne. I’m not ruined after all, he thought. I might need to buy a lot of new dishes but I don’t have to close the doors and go hide.
Geraldine sat at the head of a large banquet table, holding hands with her twins. Her eyes were constantly welling with tears, at which point she’d briefly let go of their hands, reach in her pocket for her soggy handkerchief, give a quick dab, and then grab their hands again, this time even tighter.
“Don’t cry, Mama,” Eben said.
“I can’t help it, baby,” Geraldine said with a sniffle. “I never dreamed that I would live to see this happen. To think that I didn’t know until I read Pop-Pop’s diary that there were not one, but two of you out there. In those days they used to knock you out when you had a baby. PopPop never wanted me to know that I had twins. He thought I’d feel twice as bad. He was such a good man. He was the one I turned to when I found out I was pregnant. My parents agreed to let him take me away so I could have my baby… babies…”—Geraldine dabbed her eyes again—“without being disgraced.”
“Who was our daddy?” Eben asked softly.
Geraldine’s spine straightened. “The biggest varmint and snake to pass through these parts, that’s who your daddy was. His grandpa is in that painting with Pop-Pop. They’d been partners and then broke up. Pop-Pop became successful and his partner didn’t, so the family left town. Years later the grandson came back and wooed me. My judgment wasn’t too good and I ended up pregnant after the big barn dance. The minute he heard, he hit the dusty trails. Pop-Pop thought it was revenge. But at least I now have you…” Geraldine turned to Bessie. “I’m so happy you had a good family who took you in.”
Bessie looked at her. “I did. But this is special. Even though I had a wonderful woman who I think of as my mother, may she rest in peace, I would still like to call you Mama.”
Geraldine reached for her handkerchief once again. She wiped her eyes and yelled to Louis, “Bring me a cup of that herbal tea of yours. I think I need it.”
Louis smiled. “Coming right up!”
“Nora! Luke!” Kendra and Sam came running over as the whole group filtered back into the restaurant. “We didn’t know what happened!”
“A little joyriding,” Luke said, his arm around Nora.
“I’m telling you, Kendra, this happens every time we go somewhere.” Nora smiled and shook her head.
“We knew you wanted to get your caretaker back, so we thought we’d help.” The lines around Luke’s eyes creased as he smiled.
Sam pointed over to the table where Geraldine, Eben, Bessie and Angus were all together, engrossed in conversation. “I don’t know about that. Something tells me he might have better things to do now….”
“Mama,” Eben said, “do you think we could build a Jacuzzi up at the house?”
“Anything you want,” Geraldine assured him.
“I’ll help,” Angus cried. “I’m a great fixer-upper.”
Bessie hit him on the shoulder. “You can be our new daddy.”
Angus smiled at Geraldine. “Never say never.”
Stewart greeted Regan at the door. “Are you okay?” he asked with real concern.
“Yes,” she said, looking up at him. He’d loosened the tie of his tuxedo and for the first time since she’d met him he looked rumpled. And worried.
“Your dress is wet from the snow,” he said and took off his jacket, putting it around her shoulders.
“What happened to Kit? And Derwood?” she asked.
“They’re around here somewhere.”
“Stewart, let’s walk to the back. I’d like to take a look at that ballroom.”
“Sure.”
They headed through the restaurant and paused at the french doors that led into what was now a disaster area. Tables were overturned, dishes were smashed, the podium was on its side on the stage. Only the portrait of Pop-Pop, still upright on its easel, was in place as he stared out at the wreckage before him. The camera crews had asked Louis not to clean up before they got some good shots of the room. He’d been more than happy to oblige.
“You’d never know from looking at this place that everything turned out all right,” Regan said, holding Stew-art’s jacket closed around her. “Willeen and Judd and Tripp are all behind bars right now. I just can’t believe I never suspected a thing about Tripp. He seemed like such a nice kid. Obviously my instincts weren’t so sharp about him.”
“What are your instincts about me?” Stewart asked as he put his hand on her arm.
Regan paused. “Aah. Aah,” she started to mumble.
“I can tell you’ve been holding back. It seems like you don’t trust me,” Stewart said with a soulful look. “That’s why I want to come out in the open with you.”
Regan looked puzzled. “Come out in the open about what?”
“I don’t own a children’s company.”
“You don’t?” Wait till my mother hears that one, she thought. She’ll go into a depression.
“No. But my uncle does, and I worked there a couple of summers in college.”
Regan was silent for a moment. “Why did you lie to me?”
Stewart stared into her eyes. “I didn’t want to. But I had to. You see, Regan”—he pushed his hair back from his forehead—”I’m Derwood’s bodyguard and he doesn’t want people to know it.”
Regan’s mouth fell open. “His bodyguard? Why does he need a bodyguard?”
“He needs protection because he just sold his computer business for two hundred million dollars. He’s just a little nervous about kidnappers because the sale got a lot of publicity.”
Regan gulped. Wait until Kit hears this one! She’ll be a basket case. “I’m glad you told me, Stewart,” Regan managed to say weakly as from the corner of her eyes she could see Kit and Derwood approaching.
“Regan!” Kit said. “Thank God you’re back!” She peered into the abandoned ballroom. “It looks like a game of musical chairs really got out of hand, doesn’t it?”
“Um-hmmm,” Regan said.
Derwood smiled at Regan. “We were worried about you.”
“Thanks, Derwood. Hey, we should join everyone at the table, but first I’m going to pop into the ladies’ room.”
“We’ll meet you inside,” Stewart said.
“Kit, would you come with me?” Regan asked.
“Why not? It looks like you could use some help with that dress.”
When the door shut behind them, Regan turned to Kit, who was now smiling at herself in the mirror, fixing a few wisps of her hair that were sp
ringing from her chignon.
“Regan,” Kit said as she smoothed the sides of her head, “I can’t believe everything that’s happened tonight. When the lights went out and the tear gas went off, Kendra, Sam, Derwood, Stewart and I were all on the side of the table that made it hard to get out. People started running and panicking and I fell. But Derwood was so sweet. He scraped me off the floor. I’m telling you, maybe he isn’t such a bad guy after all. I should really give him a chance. It was a stampede but he stopped to help me when I needed help and that counts for a lot.” She shrugged. “And his arms felt so surprisingly strong around me as he led me outside.” Kit looked at Regan. “So Stewart gave you his jacket. That’s so romantic. I love it when a guy does that.”
“Kit,” Regan said, “I have something to tell you and I think you’d better sit down.”
“Why?”
“The news might make you sway a little.”
“Where should I sit?”
“Put the seat down on one of the toilets.”
Kit looked alarmed as she hurried into a stall, let the toilet cover drop with a bang, sat down and crossed her legs. “Regan, what’s wrong?”
“Kit, Stewart is Derwood’s bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard! That liar! Why didn’t he tell you?” Kit paused for the briefest of seconds, a look of recognition and then fear crossing her face. “Why does Derwood need a bodyguard?”
Regan swallowed. “Derwood doesn’t want people to treat him differently just because… just because… just because…”
“Just because what?”
“Just because he sold his computer company for… for… for…”
“HOW MUCH?” Kit screamed.
“Two… two…” Regan was having trouble forming the words.
“Two million dollars?” Kit asked with a pained expression.
Regan shook her head slowly. “No no no. Two HUNDRED million dollars.”
The words sent a jolt of electricity through Kit’s body that made her shoot up from the commode like a rocket. She pushed Regan out of the way, her high heels scraping across the bathroom floor so fast that Regan was sure she saw sparks, and raced out the door. “Derwood!” she called anxiously. “Honey, where are you?”
Louis was running around the restaurant making sure that the media were happy. He wanted to get everyone together for a toast, and People magazine wanted a group shot of everyone involved. But first he had to wait until certain interviews were finished.
Ida was in a corner being questioned by Jill Brooke of CNN.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” Ida beamed. Suddenly she scrunched up her face at Jill, who was holding out the microphone for her. “Shouldn’t I look directly in the camera?”
“No,” Jill said. “Pretend you’re just talking to me.”
“Oh, okay. As I was saying, I noticed the green nublets on that criminal’s pants when I was working at the dry cleaner’s here in Aspen. I just happened to mention it when I was at the home of Kendra Wood, the famous actress. To think if I had never said anything, Regan Reilly wouldn’t have been on the lookout for the villains and they might have gotten away with it…”
Marvin Winkle straightened his tie as Cindy Adams of the New York Post sat down next to him for an interview.
“Now, Mr. Winkle,” Cindy said, “this whole incident is filled with individual stories that could give every talk show on the air an exclusive. Tell me about your part in this drama.”
Marvin smiled. “You know, Cindy,” he said with a self-satisfied expression, “I get great pleasure from my job. I’d been hired by Geraldine just recently to find the baby she’d given up fifty-six years ago. She’d given birth in a private home near Pittsburgh. An agency handled the adoption, but Geraldine had no idea which one. Some of them aren’t even in business anymore. It wasn’t until she let me know the other day that twins had been born that I was able to do some sleuthing that tracked them both down. Well, let me tell you something, when I found out that her twins had both tried to find her, and they both spent time in Aspen, I ran out and bought an airplane ticket to come right out here and tell her in person. Without advance notice, those tickets are very expensive. Anyway, I thought I could track them down when I was here.” He laughed. “It was my car that transported Geraldine to the reunion with her youngsters…”
Eben leaned over to Bessie. “You know something, Sis, when we were trapped in that bed, it somehow felt strangely familiar. I knew we’d been naked together at some time in our lives.”
Geraldine swatted him on the side of the head, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t be so fresh!”
Bessie laughed. “I’ve got to call my cousin and have her come visit. She must be wondering what happened to me.”
“The more the merrier,” Geraldine said.
Ted Weems came hurrying into the restaurant. “Oh my God!” he was mumbling. “My God! My God!”
Louis hurried over to him. “What’s wrong?”
Ted pointed to the Louis painting that was hanging over the fireplace. “That!” he said. “That!”
“What?” Louis asked. “Do you like it?”
Ted paused to catch his breath. “I was here for the party and spotted the painting across the room just as people were going in to dinner. Someone told me you had just gotten it from Geraldine Spoonfellow’s barn. I ran home to check my art history books and call my sources in France. Have I got some exciting news for you! Wait until you hear this!” He dragged Louis over to the painting and pointed excitedly as he talked.
Louis called everyone over to the table. “I know there’ll be lots more interviews, but I’d really like to make a toast.”
With that the door swung open and Larry walked in.
“Here he is,” Regan said. “Don’t worry, Lar. Everyone is all right.”
“Hey!” Larry protested. “I just got back from the emergency room. Somebody broke all his front teeth trying to escape from that disaster back there!”
“That’ll pay for your trip.” Regan smiled as she handed him a glass of champagne.
“He’s probably the one who stepped on me,” said Kit, who was now sitting with Derwood’s jacket around her.
Louis tapped the table. “I want to make a toast to everyone and an announcement.”
“Let’s have the toast first,” Luke said.
“To the most exciting opening in restaurant history…”
“Hear, hear,” they all said and gladly sipped.
“And to the fact that the Beasley masterpiece was in very good company in Geraldine’s barn. Early this evening, the eagle eye of our art historian and esteemed reporter, Ted Weems…”
Ted bowed and raised his glass.
“… took a close look at the Louis painting. He got on the phone with Paris and through the markings he was able to describe, he has verified that the painting is by Antoine Francois Callet, a famous French artist who was a court portraitist under Louis the Sixteenth. As a matter of fact, Callet’s portrait of Louis the Sixteenth is now hanging in Versailles.”
A hum of excitement rippled through the room.
Louis made a grand gesture to the portrait over the fireplace. All eyes became fixed on the imposing figure of Louis XVIII.
“What we have here is one of Callet’s last works, Louis the Eighteenth, who was painted on his Coronation Day in the early eighteen-hundreds. It’s a lost masterpiece that disappeared from France many years ago. It’s an important part of their culture and they desperately want it back. Geraldine, you are the rightful owner of it. When you gave it to Regan we had no idea of its value.”
Geraldine jumped up. “No sirree. A deal is a deal. It’s yours, Louis…”
I knew there was something I liked about that painting, Regan thought.
“You gave my boy Eben a chance by recommending him to Kendra and Sam. And he was a good caretaker, wasn’t he, Kendra?”
When he wasn’t sleeping in the guest room, Kendra thought, but she nodded yes.
“… and i
t wasn’t easy for you when people like me were screaming at you for giving Eben that chance. So that painting, whatever it’s worth, is yours. You do what you want with it.”
The television cameras were whirring madly. The photographers were snapping pictures. Reporters were frantically taking notes. For one terrible moment, Louis wavered and then did what he had to do.
“The painting goes back to France,” he announced grandly. “I think this whole group should plan a trip to Paris in springtime to deliver it. Nora, your books are popular in France. You’ve got to be with me when I present it.”
Nora looked at Luke. “How about April in Paris?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I hope I’m invited,” Ida threw in.
“Everyone’s invited!” Louis said.
“Can you believe that two such priceless treasures were found from poking around in your barn?” Ted Weems asked Geraldine.
Geraldine put her arms around her twins. “I certainly can’t….”
EPILOGUE
Tuesday, February 14
REGAN’S OFFICE WAS in an old building on Hollywood Boulevard, the kind with wide dingy hallways and black and white tile floors and what felt like the presence of the ghosts of tenants from a different era. Regan had chosen to work there because she felt it had a sense of history in the walls. And most important of all, no fluorescent lighting.
It was a sunny afternoon. Regan walked briskly into the building and took the creaky elevator up to the fourth floor where she had a view of the Hollywood Hills, even if her window was small. When she rounded the corner of the hallway, she could hear her phone ringing. Pulling her keys out of her purse, she unlocked the door, took the two steps to her desk and reached for the phone.
“Regan Reilly.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Hi, Kit.” Regan smiled. She sat down in her swivel chair and leaned back. “How’s it going?”
“Well…” Kit began. “No flowers yet. No candy. No cards.”
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