by Nancy Thayer
“Another year,” Bobbie continued, “they went as Beauty and the Beast. Sonny hated that, the costume was so elaborate and he got all sweaty behind the mask.”
“Well,” Beth mused, wondering how to discuss the image thing without entirely humiliating herself in front of the other woman, “I can see Sonny loving the Sonny part, but I don’t know if I could pull off Cher. For one thing, she’s so tall.” Not to mention drop-dead gorgeous, glamorous, fabulous, amazing, stunning . . .
“You could wear high heels,” Bobbie said. She studied Beth a moment. “Go to a costume shop and rent a wig of long black hair and some outrageous costume. Lots of glitter, jewelry, lots of makeup. You could pull it off.”
“I could?” Beth squeaked.
“Sure.” Bobbie waggled her eyebrows at Beth. “Show Sonny your wild side.”
So Beth had gone to a costume shop, and now here she was, in this slinky, little silver lamé dress that didn’t quite fit, with a neckline plunging low enough to expose exactly how small her breasts were. She had a feeling she was going to spend most of the night arranging the waist-length black hair of her wig to fall down her shoulders and over her bust. Sonny told her she looked great, but Sonny always said she looked great.
The cousin’s house was packed with an array of characters who might have delighted Beth if she hadn’t been so overwhelmed. Gandalf whispered to Queen Elizabeth, Elton John had his arms around Bigfoot, Harry Potter danced with Cleopatra. A panoply of ghouls, ghosts, and gremlins swarmed through the room, drinks in hand, or lounged against the walls, which were hung with spiderwebs and bloody heads. From the fireplace flue hung a leg dripping with fake blood and gore. Dance music, punctuated with ear-shattering screams, throbbed. The air smelled of booze and chili.
Sonny plunged into the mêlée, and Beth followed, plastering a smile on her face as she squeezed through the crowd. In the kitchen, Sonny poured Beth a beer, at the same time yelling introductions to his cousin Saradyne, who was emptying nacho chips into a basket. Seconds later, Sonny was in a deep conversation with a vampire about a manifold.
Saradyne was plump, pregnant, and rosy-cheeked, as likable as a puppy. Beth asked, “Can I help you?”
“Sure, honey!” Saradyne shouted. “Take these out to the living room and put them on the table with the salsa, okay?”
“Okay,” Beth agreed with a great big smile, but walking away from Sonny, the one face she knew in this mob, felt like setting off on a paper raft into a sea of sharks. It didn’t help that she was about as steady on her heels as a cat on an ice rink. Her metaphors were getting mixed, she knew, but nothing to compare with the jumble of backs, fronts, arms, tusks, horns, and tails she had to dodge as she carried the enormous basket of nachos through the crowd.
Everyone she passed was laughing, dancing, talking, flirting. The table, draped in orange plastic, centered with a huge jack-o’-lantern, was laden with plates, napkins, spoons, a hot pot of chili, platters of fresh veggies, and bowls of salsa. Beth squeezed between a Martian and Liza Minnelli, set the nachos down, then turned to study the crowd. People were crushed together. Even in her four-inch heels, she was shorter than everyone else. A man in a Freddie Krueger mask glanced at Beth and walked away. Even Freddie Krueger dissed her! Beth flushed. She felt like such a wallflower.
Then she saw a clown coming toward her. Clowns are nice, Beth thought desperately, and forced herself to look inviting. The clown leaned toward her—she thought he was going to say something and leaned toward him. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Hi!”
“Hi,” the clown said. He reached past her, grabbed a handful of nachos, and walked away, spraying crumbs as he shoved the nachos into his mouth.
So much for nice clowns. Beth began to shove her way through the crowd back to the kitchen to find Sonny. She’d just stick by Sonny’s side all evening, pretending she was part of his group. Maybe he’d even introduce her to someone who didn’t belong to his enormous family. She would be brave and she would persevere, and—
And then she saw Sonny, leaning against the dining room wall, grinning, and talking to—to—Cher? A knockout, drop-dead, amazing-looking woman tossed her long black hair and laughed. Her long, sleek legs were accentuated by high heels and black fishnet stockings fastened to a garter belt. A long black corset pushed her stunning breasts up. The costume made her seem more naked than if she’d worn nothing at all.
Beth felt, in her ill-fitting silver lamé, like Peter Pan in drag. Still, she forced herself forward, until she was at Sonny’s side, or as close as she could get to him.
“Oh, hi, Beth!” said Robin with a dazzling smile.
Of course it would be Robin, Beth thought. Of course Sonny’s old love would be dressed as Cher.
“Hi, Robin!” Beth answered with pretended warmth.
“Let me guess who you are,” Robin suggested, cocking her beautiful head. “Um, let’s see. Morticia Addams? Anjelica Huston?”
Beth smiled through gritted teeth. “Cher!”
“Cher?” Robin blinked. “But I’m Cher, honey. I guess Bobbie didn’t tell you. I always come as Cher. Every year. Ever since Sonny and I won Best Costume Couple, back in high school. Not that it matters. I mean, Cher has so many different looks. Next year I want to have a long blond wig like she wore in her last video.”
Beth looked at Sonny. “You didn’t tell me . . .”
Sonny shrugged. “Sorry. Never even thought about it.”
Robin continued to babble while Beth processed that Sonny’s mother had purposefully embarrassed her. Bobbie was a one-woman Robin Fan Club, so she had to know, of course she knew, that Robin always came as Cher. Bobbie probably had photos in one of her zillion albums of Robin as Cher in every variation. The question was, why would Bobbie sabotage Beth? Did she really want to run Beth off? Did she really believe that would clear the path and make Sonny fall back in love with Robin?
Hot tears of anger burned in her eyes. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t let anyone see her cry. Confused, humiliated, and angry, Beth made an abrupt turn and strode away from Robin and Sonny.
Or tried to. The hem of her silver dress caught in one of her heels. In a hellishly drawn-out moment, she fell, reaching out with both hands to catch herself, wrenching her back painfully. Sonny grabbed at her arm, but that twisted her spine even more. His hand slipped away as she crumpled to the rug, where she lay in agony among a crowd of feet. Well, now she had everyone’s attention.
“Are you all right?” Robin asked.
Beth tried to push herself up, but her back, like a fiery rope, restrained her. “My back,” she managed to gasp.
Sonny swooped down like a hero, lifting her up in his arms. “What happened?”
“I caught my dress in my heel and twisted my back.”
“Do you want to go to the emergency room?”
“No, no,” Beth protested. “Let me just go lie down on a bed for a moment.”
Sonny shoved through the crowd and down the hall to a bedroom, where he settled her gently on the bed. “I’ll get some aspirin.” He went away.
She closed her eyes, trying to relax, to release the pain.
Saradyne appeared in the doorway. “Someone said you fell? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Beth assured her. “I just twisted my back.”
“I’ll get you a heating pad. It will do wonders.”
“You poor little thing.” Suddenly Robin was there next to the bed. In her sleek Sex Queen black, she oozed health, sensuality, and superior genes. “What can I do for you?” she asked sweetly.
Beth closed her eyes again and groaned.
13
In the late afternoon, Carolyn sat at her paper-strewn desk in her office at Sperry’s, scanning documents and signing them, although her body begged for a nap. As much as she would have liked to turn all directorial tasks over to her father, it was out of the question. Aubrey was absentminded these days, too busy with his new wife to focus properly on his work.
And t
his was good, Carolyn reminded herself. Her father was obviously invigorated by his marriage. He looked younger and happier. Certainly the food Heather prepared him was healthier than the heavier, more traditional meat-and-potato meals Mrs. B. had been serving for years. Once a week, when Carolyn and Hank and Aubrey and his wife ate together, Heather insisted on preparing the dinner, and Carolyn was impressed by the delicious, low-fat, high-fiber food Heather served. Aubrey had begun taking daily walks, too, with Heather at his side, the pair of them in matching navy blue jogging outfits. They looked pretty cute together, actually, so Carolyn was doing her best to suppress her anxieties.
After all, she had done what she could to satisfy herself that Heather was not a gold digger. Recently, when Carolyn had finally found her father in the company office alone, she’d summoned enough courage to ask him whether Heather had signed a prenuptial agreement. Yes, Aubrey had assured her, Heather had. In the case of divorce or death, Heather was to get a lump sum of $100,000. She’d also signed a statement waiving any rights to stock in the Sperry Paper Company. Aubrey made it clear that he found Carolyn’s concerns about his sweet new wife insulting.
Carolyn had been sorry to give him reason to be angry with her, but glad she’d asked. Her suspicions were allayed.
Although . . . she could not forget the moment when she’d found Heather prying into the household accounts, how Heather’s mask of sweetness had fallen away, how threatening, almost feral, Heather had looked. Carolyn had discussed this with Hank, but he thought that Carolyn had overreacted. Wasn’t her pregnancy making her more emotionally volatile?
Perhaps. Carolyn asked her private secretary, in strictest confidence, to check out Heather Grinnell online. The secretary reported that Heather was exactly whom she appeared to be: a thirty-two-year-old woman who’d grown up in Arlington, Massachusetts, the daughter of a plumber and a housewife. Heather had, as she’d said, one brother, Harry, thirty-four years old, who had taken over his father’s plumbing business. Both parents were deceased. According to the online white page directory, the address of both adult children was their parents’ house.
Next, Carolyn decided to get to know Heather. She offered to take Heather shopping for a dress for the company’s upcoming annual Christmas party. Before their shopping expedition, Carolyn treated Heather to lunch, and afterward, to tea. During their girls-together day, Carolyn made several subtle attempts to probe beneath Heather’s girlish surface, but Heather had remained all sweetness and light.
On Carolyn’s desk, the clock’s hands clicked to five o’clock. Everyone else was going home; she should, too. She wasn’t accomplishing anything here.
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The towering old house was silent as she let herself in. Hank was out of town overnight on an environmental fact-finding visit. She hurried down the hall to her suite of rooms and collapsed on the sofa, not bothering to take her coat off, instead pulling it over her as a cover as she curled on the sofa and slipped gratefully into sleep.
——————————
A knock at her door awakened her. Yawning, she opened her eyes and checked her watch. She’d slept for over an hour.
“Come in,” she called, sitting up and stretching.
“Carolyn?” Mrs. B., their housekeeper, looked in. “Do you have a moment?”
“Of course. Come in. Sit down.” Too hot now, Carolyn tossed her coat aside and smoothed her hair.
“Thank you, dear.” Mrs. B. entered, taking care to shut the door tightly behind her. She settled in a chair. “My, look how big you’ve gotten! How are you feeling?”
“Slothful,” Carolyn said wryly. “What’s up?”
The frown line between Mrs. B.’s eyes deepened. “Perhaps you already know this. I just feel that it’s my responsibility to mention—you’re aware that there’s a line of guaranteed credit on the household account.”
“Of course.”
“And also on your father’s personal checking account.”
The baby seemed to be pinching her bladder with her toes. Carolyn changed positions. “I didn’t know about my father’s account. I’ve never had occasion to use it. Now that you mention it, I’m not surprised. We all have lines of credit, it’s standard. We set it up for the household account for emergencies—fire, the roof falling in, whatever.”
“The thing is, Carolyn, the bank statements came the other day. I balanced it against the checkbook. Your household account has had fifty thousand dollars drawn on its credit line.”
“Really?” Carolyn frowned. “I can’t imagine why.”
“So I took the liberty, because, you know, I open all your father’s personal mail for him and sort it—he gets so many requests for charitable donations, so many invitations. I opened his bank statement. His personal checking account just had one hundred fifty thousand dollars withdrawn from the personal credit line.”
A cold wave of dread clutched Carolyn.
“I don’t mean to cause trouble. You know I don’t want to overstep any boundaries.” She leaned forward, peering at Carolyn. “Carolyn, are you all right?”
A mysterious force boiled inside her. This must be how a volcano feels just before it blows, Carolyn thought. She put one hand on her belly and the other over her eyes. “Just a bit dizzy.”
“Oh, dear. Oh, I’m so sorry.” Mrs. B. looked stricken. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean—perhaps I should have waited—”
Carolyn shook her head briskly. “Mrs. B., it’s all right. Please, don’t worry. You absolutely did the right thing, coming to me.”
Mrs. B.’s voice broke. “I care so much about you and your father.”
“And you know we couldn’t keep this house going without you.” The housekeeper was getting old, Carolyn realized with a shock. She assured her, “You were right to come to me. I’ll talk with Father and let you know what’s going on. In the meantime, don’t fret.”
“Thank you, dear.” Mrs. B. rose and went away.
Carolyn’s heart surged, agitated and alarmed.
——————————
That evening, Carolyn made herself a grilled-cheese sandwich to eat with the enormous salad and ratatouille Mrs. B. had left for her. She ate in bed. It felt so good to put her legs up! She wondered whether she ought to have a bed, or at least a recliner, moved into the office for the remainder of her pregnancy.
Yet as tired as she was, Carolyn knew she’d never sleep tonight. Anxiety pulsed through her like a breaking news broadcast on a television screen.
Aubrey had probably bought a fabulous car for his new wife, Carolyn decided. Except there was no new car in the garage. All right then, a fur coat, and tickets for a cruise around the world—it was easy to spend $200,000.
It was almost eleven o’clock when she saw headlights flash in the driveway. Ready for battle, Carolyn headed down the hall.
“Oh!” Heather peeped as she and Aubrey entered. “Hello, Carolyn! I didn’t expect to see you up so late!”
“Did you have a good evening?” Carolyn asked conversationally.
“Wonderful,” Heather cooed. “I’ve never had such delicious food before in all my life.”
Aubrey helped his wife slip out of her coat—it was fur. “What’s up?” he asked Carolyn.
“There’s something I need to discuss with you. Won’t take a moment.” Forcing a smile at Heather, she added, “It’s just business, Heather.”
But Aubrey squinted his eyes suspiciously at Carolyn and wrapped a protective arm around Heather. “I want Heather to learn about our business, Carolyn. She’s welcome to sit in on any discussion.”
“Fine.” Carolyn led them into the living room, flicking on a few of the lamps. Carolyn claimed the best armchair. Heather settled on the sofa, with Aubrey close by. Aubrey looked dashing in his expensive suit, his cheeks ruddy from the cold air, his eyes sparkling. He looked like a happy man.
“Father, I’m sorry to do this now, but I won’t sleep if I don’t get it settled.�
�� Carolyn clenched her hands and straightened her back defensively. “Mrs. B. came to me today, terribly concerned about the money you’ve withdrawn on your credit line from the household account and your own private one.”
Her father’s face reddened dangerously. “I hardly think this qualifies as an emergency.”
Carolyn leaned forward. “Please, Father. I don’t want a detailed accounting. Just a brief explanation.”
“I won’t have you accusing me of mishandling my own funds!” Aubrey snapped.
“I’m not accusing you, Father,” Carolyn replied, stunned at his sudden anger.
Aubrey’s voice shook. “You have no right—”
“I have every right—”
“Oh, dear!” Heather burst out. “I never meant to cause trouble between the two of you!”
Aubrey stared at Heather, amazed. “You aren’t causing us any trouble, darling.”
“I only wanted to make you happy, Aubrey.” Heather wrung her hands together. “I tried using the housekeeping funds, but there wasn’t enough money, and besides, Carolyn was so angry when I looked in the housekeeping computer! I wanted it to be a wonderful surprise for Christmas! I had such plans! My brother was going to come help me set everything up. Now it’s all spoiled!”
“Darling girl, nothing’s spoiled,” Aubrey promised soothingly.
“What’s spoiled?” Carolyn demanded.
“New f-f-f-furniture,” Heather stammered. “Your place is so masculine, Aubrey, so cold. I wanted to surprise you with a more r-r-r-romantic bedroom. I bought a b-b-b-beautiful new bed. I know you like nice things, Aubrey, so I scoured all the antique shops in the area. I was going to have the new things set up Christmas Eve day.”
“What a wonderful thing to do,” Aubrey said.
“But wait,” Carolyn said. “That still doesn’t explain how the money—”
“I gave Heather my passwords and protocols for transferring funds from those accounts.” Aubrey was still red-faced, and his voice was stern as he spoke to his daughter. “I gave her free access to my funds. After all, she is my wife. It’s only natural she’d want to change our part of the house for our own comfort. How much is Mrs. B. worried about?”