Silver Lining

by Diana Simmonds

  Table of Contents

  Other Bella Books by Diana Simmonds

  Chapter One In the Beginning…

  Chapter Two Rewind to 2008

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Copyright © 2013 by Diana Simmonds

  Bella Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 10543

  Tallahassee, FL 32302

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  First Bella Books Edition 2013

  eBook released 2013

  Editor: Katherine V. Forrest

  Cover Designer: Linda Callaghan

  ISBN: 978-1-59493-206-9

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Other Bella Books by Diana Simmonds

  Forty Love

  Heart on Fire

  Acknowledgments

  Heartfelt thanks to Katherine V. Forrest for your kindness and insights. Also to Linda Hill for your patience and encouragement. And a huge and loving “thank you” to Suzi Whitehead for your unflagging support and generously given opinions over fifteen hilarious years.

  And for

  Clare Ashton

  Without whom this would still be a forlorn Word document on a USB stick. Although none of it is your fault, Tig, you’re not to blame.

  Chapter One

  In the Beginning…

  Sydney, Australia

  “Letting you go now is probably for the best.”

  Clancy Darling sat back in the chair as anger and astonishment collided deep in her gut and exploded. The sensation washed through her body in waves and gradually subsided, but the residue was unpleasant. She watched her boss across the desk as the man peered at his templed fingertips and avoided looking directly at her.

  “You think so?” In her own ears her voice was surprisingly calm. She crossed her legs and smoothed the crease of her pants before adding, “Well that’s good.”

  The silence hung between them, growing until it was almost unbearable. Almost. Clancy had instantly resolved that she would make her editor do it the hard way. She waited and listened to nothing in particular and gazed out to the cityscape beyond the windows. The steel and glass architectural statements that housed the corporations of the city of Sydney twinkled in the morning sun. Behind her was the newsroom—the source of more silence. Twenty-first century newspaper offices were so unearthly quiet; that told you why newspapers were dying, surely? Where was the hum of things happening, the excitement of discovery and the gasps of discovering unearthed secrets? And the breathless laughter of the Shock!-Horror!-Amazing scenes! moments? Somehow that tasteful tip-tip-tap of keyboards and the unlikely warbling from cell phones just didn’t do it.

  She continued to watch her editor as he clearly tried to will his newly redundant senior journalist to get up and leave before the beads of sweat on his forehead united in a trickle down his face. Maybe that’s why old-time editors wore green eyeshades, Clancy thought, and almost cracked a smile. But still she said nothing; she was adept at waiting out the other person and forcing them to speak first; it was why she was good at her job. Finally her now ex-editor looked across the clear expanse of his giant desk and smiled; it was more a twitch of the pale lips.

  “I reiterate that I do want you to continue to write for us Clancy,” he said, and he too sat back in his seat. “We need your input. But the fact is, the bottom line can’t afford you.”

  Clancy nodded. “I get that,” she said. “I’m way too expensive. Been here too long, too much leave accumulated and today’s my fortieth birthday; so I tick that box too—over the hill!” She grinned at the shocked expression on the boss’s face.

  He groaned and put his pudgy hands over the owlish spectacles. Clancy shrugged. “It’s okay; don’t worry about it. Just tell me I’m not over the hill—you have to reassure me on that point at least.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why do you think I want you to stay on as a freelance columnist and consulting editor? We can’t afford not to have you Clancy; you know that. It’s just that you can’t appear on the salary side of the books.”

  Clancy held up her hand and nodded. “Like I said, I do understand. It’s just not what I expected—today anyway.” The thought hung between them for a moment like a dust mote, then she stood up and stretched. “Well I better get back to it, I have a deadline.”

  The small man struggled to his feet and began to put out his hand, but changed his mind and came around the desk making as if to grab Clancy in a hug. Without a moment’s thought Clancy took a step back and they ended up in an awkward two-handed handshake and clasp of forearms. It was the most Clancy could bring herself to give as absolution. The new silence between them was not particularly companionable, but on a scale of one to ten in dealings with the man, it wasn’t too bad.

  “It’s all shit Clancy,” said her ex-editor, almost absentmindedly. “It’s all shit.” He stood back and looked up into Clancy’s eyes and blinked several times. “What will you do now?”

  Clancy grinned. “Finish my story for Saturday’s paper then get on a plane to New York.”

  The editor’s eyes were wistful and he sighed once more. “Fabulous, Clancy. I envy you.”

  Clancy held up her hand and shook her head, “Nuh-uh,” she retorted and her tone was minimally sharp. “We could swap places. You can be the suddenly unemployed finance writer and I could sit in your chair and attempt to keep this sinking ship afloat—on a regular salary. What do you say?”

  The editor’s smile was just slightly embarrassed, but there was a twinge of alarm in his eyes. “You’re not the editor type,” he said brusquely. “You never have been.”

  Clancy laughed. “Whatever you mean by that, I’m taking it as a compliment.”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “It is. It is. But you’ve always been a maverick and you know the suits don’t like that. I mean, think of the damn book.” He lifted his shoulders in a see-what-I-mean shrug.

  Clancy nodded. “I am thinking about it.” She smiled. “That’s why I’ll go to New York. I’m going to talk to the agent I told you about and sell the damn book in the States.”

  His eyebrows shot up above his spectacle frames. “Well there you are—that’s what I mean. You wipe the floor with every banker and billionaire you’ve ever written about and wonder why you’ll never sit in my chair?”

  Clancy’s expression was unreadable; she almost smiled and then shook her head, “No, I don’t wonder that Martin, but I do wonder why your chair doesn’t give you the balls to tell the suits you want to keep me. Without me and the others like me your paper isn’t worth using as kitty tray liner.”

  The editor gaped at her for a moment then laughed heartily. It was an odd sound. Clancy turned for the door but a hand on her arm stopped her.

  “Give me a list of ideas before you go—features, columns, whatever—okay?” His black button eyes flicked back and forth as if trying to see inside Clancy’s brain.

  Clancy nodded. “Sure, I’ll put my mind to it as soon as.”

&n
bsp; “We’ll have a party for you, of course!”

  “I’d rather not—just drinks in the pub with whoever’s around on Friday.” Clancy smiled tightly and removed his hand from her arm. She left the corner office and headed straight for the finance editor’s cubicle.

  * * *

  As Clancy headed her way the tall, skinny redhead got up from her desk. “Sweetie, I’ll call you back in five,” Clancy heard her mutter into her phone. “She’s heading this way. I’ve got to deal with this now.” The receiver was dropped back on its cradle and she watched Clancy bearing down upon her. Like a Valkyrie, her mane of burnished golden curls swirling around her shoulders, Clancy skewered her nemesis from twenty paces across the floor with a look.

  “You miserable, cowardly little shite.” Clancy knew her normally velvety voice was cutting through the discreet newsroom hum and instantly it was as if its inhabitants had hit a collective “mute” button. One by one, heads and shoulders appeared above the partitions as Clancy reached Jennifer Costa’s den. She held up her hands and took a step forward, perhaps to stop Clancy before she began.

  “Now Clancy hang on…let’s go and get a coffee…” But Jennifer stopped her move forward and instead took a step back toward the safety of her workstation.

  “Coffee!” Clancy slapped the flat top of the partition with the palm of her hand. It rattled hard and two tiny Disney figures fell off and plopped to the carpet, closely followed by sheets of paper that fluttered loose from their pins. “Coffee! Jennifer tell me one thing: when did you know about this?”

  The finance editor looked about them, conscious of the gaping eyes and mouths. “Just sit down Clancy,” she said and Clancy heard the quaver in her voice.

  “I don’t want to sit down with you, Jen. I want you to tell me when you decided to do the dirty. When. Did. You. Know. About. This?”

  Clancy watched the finance editor let out a gusty sigh and her shoulders droop. “It was…they mentioned it in conference a couple of weeks ago,” she muttered.

  “Two weeks ago? And you didn’t think about talking to me?”

  Jennifer shrugged. “Nothing was decided, there was nothing to talk about. I didn’t—”

  “Rubbish Jennifer, rubbish. Either you’re lying or you’re stupid and I know you’re not stupid.”

  The finance editor seemed suddenly to remember the scene was being played out in front of an appreciative audience. She pulled herself to her full height and stared Clancy right in the eyes. “Don’t you call me a liar Clancy Darling, how dare you!”

  Clancy snorted a laugh. “Oh please, Jennifer. I’ve just been fired. As if you didn’t know.” She turned as gasps and a flurry of murmurs rippled about the newsroom. “Yes, you heard right,” she said in a clear and carrying voice. “Fired. Anyone who was thinking of coming over the road for birthday drinks can save a few bucks and say goodbye at the same time. A really good deal.”

  The mix of outraged voices and cheering and clapping was uproarious; as it died down Clancy leaned toward Jennifer and said, in tones designed to carry to every corner of the floor, “Thank God I never gave in to your begging and slept with you. It’s the best thing I didn’t do in the last fifteen years.”

  And she turned from the furious eyes and strode across the floor to her own cubicle. A second round of cheering, whistling and clapping accompanied her march and she waved cheerily as she sat down. Picking up the phone before her hands could begin to shake in earnest, she scrolled through her contacts file until she came to T for travel agent.

  “Hi,” she said when the welcome spiel finished in her ear. “I want to book a flight from Sydney to JFK on Monday.”

  In the Beginning…

  New York City

  “My big sis is going to be in New York for a few days. I want you to meet her so she knows I have women friends,” Malcolm Darling had explained after the dinner invitation zipped into her inbox and was followed up by a phone call.

  “You don’t have women friends,” Amanda McIntyre had pointed out reasonably. “I’m it.”

  “Don’t be difficult. There’s my personal trainer, and I’m really close to Gina at the deli.”

  “So invite one of them to have dinner with your sister. Look Mal, I don’t do siblings, it’s not my scene.”

  “Just because your brother is a creep doesn’t mean all siblings are shitheads. Clancy is…” Malcolm had stopped at that point then giggled down the phone. “Clancy is scary. She is such an older sister.”

  “Clancy! Her name is Clancy? How can anyone called Clancy be scary?”

  “She’s really Claire Nancy but nobody’s called her that since she was nine years old, and you better not either. Now come on, be a pal. You’ll like her. I know you will. She’s a dyke; she’s gorgeous. She’s just turned forty-one and she’s way grown-up. So you can dump Natalie and try a good Aussie sheila for a change.”

  “Malcolm! You are outrageous! And there are two things you need to remember. One, I don’t do older women. Two, Natalie and I have an open relationship. We are not a married couple, but I don’t sleep around.”

  “Unless my math is seriously up the creek, Clancy is no more than nine years older than you, my sweet. If that makes her an older woman then I’d say you have one foot in the grave and another on a banana skin. And…” He whistled a piercing blast down the phone as Amanda screeched her protest. “And, if you and the fragrant Natalie aren’t a couple, why do you keep her and why do you do the husband things?”

  Amanda had given up the argument and relented. Malcolm had, in turn, given in to the idea that Natalie should come too, despite his misgivings that she would balk at having to be civil to yet more members of the upper middle class. So, on the designated evening she and Amanda frocked up, in their respective styles, to meet the legendary Clancy and hold her baby brother’s hand.

  Malcolm met them in the hotel bar and called Clancy to tell her they were all present and correct. His upper lip was beaded with sweat; Amanda had never seen him so nervous, and told him so.

  “I’m not nervous,” he snapped and threw back his drink in one gulp.

  “We eating here?” Natalie was taking in the smooth piano music from the baby grand in the corner of the bar and the gleaming uptown customers and low lighting. At Amanda’s insistence she had made an effort to dress up but her Village-chic scrubby crushed velvet-and-patches miniskirt and artfully holed black fishnet stockings were a unique outfit in the svelte milieu.

  “There’s a cute-looking Italian a block west,” said Malcolm, twitchily surveying the room and keeping an eye on the door. “I thought we’d go there.”

  At that moment Clancy Darling entered the bar and Natalie actually whistled. Not a loud whistle, but one that carried well enough to catch the attention of Malcolm’s sister and cause her to stop her survey of the room and stare straight at them.

  “Holy cow, Malcolm, you never said she was a fuckin’ goddess,” Natalie said in mock wonderment as Clancy strode toward them.

  Amanda stared at her. Clancy was not quite as tall as Malcolm, but somehow she appeared to tower over the room. Or perhaps it was the clear blue-gray eyes and strong, straight nose down which she seemed to peer at the world. Like Malcolm, her dark blond hair was luxuriantly abundant but unlike him, it grew in a mane of burnished curls and waves that cascaded to her shoulders. She was lightly tanned and freckles decorated the high cheekbones that mirrored her brother’s and which gave her a striking, hawklike appearance. Her mouth was wide, naturally dusky pink and not smiling. She was dressed in an oversize, cream-colored, crumpled linen jacket and pants that Amanda instantly divined weren’t Armani or any other designer of note, but looked sensational nevertheless. Beneath the jacket was a low-cut black chemise that just revealed the swell of her breasts. In her cleavage lay a pea-sized teardrop pearl hanging from a thin gold chain. Luscious—edible—Amanda thought, and told herself that she meant the pearl, of course. Clancy’s eventual smile of greeting was contained and cool, yet there was a
n aura of heat and light about her that made heads turn.

  Amanda kicked Natalie’s ankle in an effort to get her girlfriend to close her mouth and stop staring, to no avail. As Malcolm stepped forward to embrace his sister Natalie cut in before him and put out her hand.

  “Malcolm never said he had such a hot sister,” Natalie said as she clasped Clancy’s hand in both her own, and Amanda winced. Clancy’s eyes were not quite part of her smile as she looked Natalie over, then said briskly, “You must be Natalie,” and, turning to Amanda, her smile still not fully occupying her face, said, “And you’re Amanda, Malcolm’s told me a lot about you.”

  Natalie was still hanging on to Clancy’s hand so Amanda was spared having to decide whether or not to extend her own in a formal greeting. Instead she raised her glass and said, “Cheers, I can’t imagine what he’s said, but I guess it couldn’t have been all that bad because you’re here and…” She stopped abruptly, before she really started babbling, and her cheeks flushed hot. “What are you drinking?” she asked, lamely.

  Clancy’s eyes crinkled into genuine amusement and Amanda understood that she knew exactly why she was blushing. Amanda’s hackles rose and she said frostily, “I suppose you’d like a beer, isn’t that what you Aussies drink?”

  A tiny flash of irritation accentuated fine lines at the corners of Clancy’s narrowed eyes; the tightening of her lips also signaled displeasure. “I don’t know about ‘us Ossies.’” She mimicked Amanda’s pronunciation. “But as an Ozzie,” she pointedly emphasized the “zee” sound, “I’d prefer a dry white wine.” She gently drew her hand away from Natalie’s and offered her cheek to her brother for a kiss. “Nice to see you Malcolm, I’m so glad you brought some backup. This should be a fun evening.”