The Look of Love

by Mary Jane Clark

  Besides the standard ipecac, calamine lotion, Bactine, and Pedialyte, the medicine cabinet was stocked with first-aid manuals, burn pads, antiseptic wipes, every manner of adhesive bandage, microshields, cold packs, hot packs, latex gloves, and, even though neither child had any allergies, EpiPens, which he also insisted be available in the glove compartment of both family cars. Piper could still remember that every year, along with getting new shoes and school supplies, she would also get a new emergency kit that her father would make up for her to carry in her book bag. He would go over the contents of the kit with her, explaining the use of each item. Sometimes Piper had been frightened at the things her father told her, but he always reassured her.

  “Almost everything can be made all right, lovey. The main thing is to be prepared.”

  Relatives and friends shook their heads and laughed at Vin’s obsession with emergency preparedness. Vin Donovan couldn’t have cared less about what they thought. The most important thing to him was the safety of his family.

  Piper knew that her father was going to be less than thrilled when she told him she was definitely going out to Los Angeles to make a wedding cake for a bride whom somebody had tried to kill.

  After the proud parents-to-be left, Piper and her father cleaned up while Terri began making telephone calls to share the exciting news that she was going to be a grandmother. When the last dish was put away, Piper went up to her room. She looked at the clock, calculated that it was noon on the West Coast, and decided it wasn’t too early to call Jillian Abernathy.

  The phone was answered after the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. Is this Jillian?”

  “Yes?” The voice sounded wary.

  “This is Piper Donovan. You sent me a message about making your wedding cake.”

  “Oh, Piper.” The voice sounded relieved. “It’s great to hear from you. Happy New Year!”

  “Thanks. Same to you,” said Piper. “It looks like you’re really starting it off in a big way.”

  Jillian laughed. “Ah, yes, the wedding. I hope you’re calling to tell me you’ll make our cake.”

  “Actually, I have a few questions,” said Piper.

  “Sure. What are they?”

  “How many people are you having?” Piper asked.

  “I’m not exactly sure yet, but definitely less than a hundred. Ben and I don’t want a huge wedding. We want it to be a relatively quiet affair. “

  “Oh, that’s good,” said Piper, “because I know I can make a cake that will be big enough to serve a hundred. I want to be up front with you. This would be only the second wedding cake I’ve ever made.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t know it from the looks of the one you did for Glenna Brooks,” said Jillian. “Hers was amazing. My stepmother wants us to use one of the well-known bakeries out here, but I’d so much rather have you.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you,” said Piper. “Did you have anything particular in mind for yours?”

  “I’m pretty open-minded about how it would be decorated,” said Jillian. “But there is a flavor we’d like. We want a pumpkin cake.”

  “Wow, that’s original!” said Piper as her mind raced. Her mother had a fantastic recipe for pumpkin cake.

  “Actually, Piper, I was wondering if you would be willing to let someone else make the cake itself and you put it together and decorate it.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Piper.

  “Well, my sister is a nun, and her convent supports itself by selling pumpkin bread made in their kitchen. It would mean a great deal to us to include the convent in our wedding in some way, though none of the nuns will be able to attend, since they’re cloistered. They are willing to make the cake for us. We think the publicity they could get from this might bring more attention to their pumpkin-bread business.”

  “Sorry, I’m a little confused,” said Piper. “I thought you wanted a quiet wedding—that you didn’t want attention.”

  “That’s right,” said Jillian. “I don’t. But I’m sure we’re going to get it anyway.”

  Chapter 11

  New Year’s Day or not, Irene Wallace Abernathy was with her personal trainer, stretching, twisting, and lifting weights. She was willing to pay extra for the holiday session. She thrived on Jake’s unflagging attention and the way he flirted with her. Jake made her feel desirable.

  At forty-six, Irene was keenly aware that men didn’t look at her the way they once had. There was a time when she dreaded passing a construction site, bracing herself for the whistles and catcalls that always ensued. Now the workmen didn’t even look up from what they were doing.

  It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive. She knew she was. She still had a trim figure, and her face, thanks to the wonders of Elysium, was almost unlined. Irene had taken very good care of herself over the years, making use of the steep employee discount for all her treatments and classes. Now, as Mrs. Vernon Abernathy, she paid nothing.

  Still, time and gravity had changed things. It was a constant battle against crepey skin and sagging sinew.

  As she panted through her stomach crunches on the floor of the expansive great room, Irene heard the phone ring.

  “Do you want to answer that?” asked Jake, his arms rippling with muscles as he held her feet to the floor.

  “No, Vernon will get it,” she said, pushing a strand of ash-blond hair from her brow.

  It was nice having Vernon home today. There were no surgeries scheduled, and he’d promised they would have the day together, just the two of them. They were going to play some golf this afternoon. Irene hoped that the phone call didn’t mean he was needed at Elysium. There was always something. Vernon had finally sold his house in Beverly Hills, where he’d lived with his first wife, Caryn, and built the place they lived in now. The new place was on the periphery of the Elysium property, so he would be right there when needed.

  Irene winced as she heard her husband’s booming voice.

  “Jillian, darling. Happy New Year!” Irene couldn’t help but notice the enthusiasm and joy in his tone.

  There was no getting around it. More than his cosmetic-surgery practice, more than Elysium, more than their marriage, Vernon’s relationship with his daughters was most precious to him. It was exceedingly fortunate that his older daughter, Nina, was in a cloister and wasn’t able to pop in or call all the time. But Jillian was always in their lives, taking Vernon’s attention away.

  While she understood that it was natural that Vernon doted on Jillian, Irene thought their lives were too intertwined. Jillian was a grown woman, after all. Vernon didn’t have to rush to make things better every time she stubbed her toe.

  If this wedding ever happened, perhaps Ben would be able to weaken the excessive father-daughter bond. But Irene wasn’t counting on that.

  It was frustrating not being number one in Vernon’s life, but she was doing all she could to earn that spot. Vernon would see how affectionate and supportive she was as she helped Jillian prepare for the wedding. He would always remember that Irene loved Jillian as if she were her own daughter. That would strengthen Irene’s own bond with him.

  Chapter 12

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 5 . . . TEN DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING

  The treatment room was sparkling clean and outfitted with sterilized equipment and instruments. Shelves of glass-fronted cabinets on the walls held bottles and jars of various serums, lotions, and tonics designed to correct a wide range of skin conditions, improve appearance, and turn back the hands of time. Chemical peels to reduce fine lines and age spots, depilatory wax to remove unwanted facial hair, serums to cleanse pores and improve skin tone.

  Wearing his immaculate lab coat, Kyle Quigley was organizing the gauze, cream, and utensils needed for his next appointment when Esperanza arrived.

  “You’re early today.” He smiled as he glanced at the clock on the
wall.

  “Is it all right?” asked Esperanza.

  “Actually, it works out well,” said Kyle. “We’ll have a little extra time together.”

  He could read the pleasure in Esperanza’s eyes. Kyle knew she had a thing for him, and he didn’t see any harm in playing along. It wasn’t uncommon for the women and men who came to him for treatment to grow emotionally attached. As they lay on the treatment table, they were so vulnerable. He took care of them and paid attention to them in very personal ways as he spoke to them soothingly and his fingers caressed their skin. They felt he was on their side, helping them and committed to their health and well-being. They responded to that, often confiding in him. More than one had wanted to have a relationship outside the treatment room and off Elysium’s grounds.

  Of course, Esperanza had been disfigured, but even if she hadn’t been, she wasn’t the kind of woman he found attractive. Kyle watched as she climbed onto the table, lay back, and comfortably settled herself. He took off her mask gently. He was careful not to show any emotion as he looked at her face. If Esperanza were to detect any distaste in his expression, she would be traumatized. Poor thing. When she returned to the real world, she was going to suffer horribly at the revulsion in people’s eyes when they saw her.

  He adjusted the magnifying glass and inspected the dreadfully damaged skin.

  “You continue to heal nicely, Esperanza.”

  “Really?” There was hope in her voice. “I don’t look in the mirror.”

  That’s probably just as well, thought Kyle. But sooner or later you’re going to have to see yourself. And when you look in that mirror, you’re going to be crushed.

  As Kyle put on the peach-colored latex gloves, he didn’t notice Esperanza’s expression change.

  He painstakingly applied the cream designed to prevent and reduce scars as Esperanza’s eyes searched his face. Kyle was careful to make sure that his own expression remained benign, betraying no reaction to what remained of Esperanza’s skin. That was the professional thing to do.

  He had trained long and hard to become a paramedical aesthetician. Not only could he do cosmetic treatments at Elysium, he could work with dermatologists and plastic surgeons. His ministrations prepared the skin for surgery and a more comfortable healing process. He could offer services that would normally be available only through a medical doctor. Dr. Abernathy trusted him and relied on him. Kyle was exceedingly proud of that.

  “Okay,” he said, stepping away from the table and pulling off his gloves. “All done.”

  Esperanza sat up. “Dr. Abernathy tells me I can leave here in a few days,” she said, staring down at her lap. “I don’t want to go. I like it here. Everyone takes such good care of me.” She looked up at Kyle. “You take such good care of me.”

  Here we go, thought Kyle. Say something reassuring, but don’t lead her on, don’t hurt her.

  “It’s wonderful that Dr. Abernathy thinks you’ve healed enough to go home, Esperanza. And don’t worry. We’ll still be seeing each other. You’ll be coming back for outpatient visits, won’t you?”

  She nodded. “But it’s not only leaving here that worries me. I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “That the devil with the acid will come and find me.” Her voice trembled.

  Kyle reached out and covered her hand with his. “Have you heard anything more about the police investigation?” he asked.

  “No, not in weeks and weeks. The detective told me that they are still looking but need more to go on.”

  “They’ll find him,” said Kyle, with more conviction in his voice than he actually felt.

  Tears welled up in Esperanza’s eyes. “I think I could help the police,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I remember something from that day. Something I didn’t remember before.”

  “What?” asked Kyle. “What do you remember?”

  But Esperanza shook her head and kept silent.

  Chapter 13

  After dinner Piper finished packing. She was excited to be getting away from the biting cold in the Northeast. A visit to the Internet had informed her that January was the coldest month of the year in Los Angeles, with temperatures in the sixties during the day and the forties and fifties at night. What a perfect climate!

  Along with black pants, jeans, leggings, tops, yoga clothes, two dresses, a cotton sweater, a bathing suit, and a crushable straw hat, Piper placed a securely wrapped package in the suitcase. The parcel contained tracing paper and the piping tips, pastry bags, flower nails, and other tools she would need to fashion blossoms, stars, leaves, hearts, or whatever else ended up decorating the wedding cake.

  As she was selecting the toiletries she wanted to take with her, there was a knock at her bedroom door.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Terri walked into the room with her arm outstretched. “Here,” she said, holding out two index cards. “This is my recipe for cream-cheese icing. In my opinion that’s the best frosting for pumpkin cake. And the other is the recipe for the pumpkin cake we make at the bakery, just in case you need it.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that.”

  Piper looked at the cards. She was well aware of the years and effort her mother had put into perfecting every recipe. Terri Donovan’s hard work had made The Icing on the Cupcake a resounding success. Piper was the beneficiary, her mother eagerly and generously passing on her priceless expertise.

  “You know, Mom, we should really put together all your recipes and make a cookbook or something.”

  “Maybe one of these days,” said Terri as she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I know what that means,” said Piper. “That means you have no intention of doing it.”

  Terri smiled. “Probably not.” She cocked her head and squinted as she perused the open suitcase. “Got everything you need?”

  “I think so,” answered Piper. “If I’ve forgotten anything, I can buy it out there.”

  “Just be careful, will you?” Terri took hold of her daughter’s arm.

  “I will,” said Piper, picking up Terri’s hand and kissing it. “I know you and Dad aren’t crazy about the idea of my doing this. But I’m sure it’s going to be fine. You guys just worry about me way too much. Especially Dad.”

  “We love you, Piper, and we don’t want anything to happen to you. As for your father, he’s seen a lot, and he knows that real evil exists in the world. He wants you to be prepared. In fact, he’s in the basement right now, putting together a special kit for you to take with you.”

  “Figures,” said Piper, shaking her head.

  Mother and daughter looked at each other and smiled.

  Before going to bed, Piper went down to see her father. Vin was sitting at his workbench with his back to her. She came up behind him, leaned around, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “The car service is coming really early to take me to the airport, Dad. I want to say good-bye now.”

  Vin looked into her eyes. “You’re sure you really want to do this, Piper?”

  She nodded firmly. “Mm-hmm. For all the reasons we’ve already gone over.”

  Vin let out a deep sigh. “All right, then,” he said. “I want to go through a few things with you.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “Acid is reactive, lovey. When it comes into contact with another material, something is going to happen. If it comes in contact with any part of your body, it will rapidly break down the tissue, causing severe burns. To say it hurts like hell would be an understatement. Shock could set in. And burns can lead to secondary problems, like infection. And infection can lead to—”

  “Okay, Dad,” said Piper, cutting her father off. “I get it.”

  “I just want you to understand that burns are never trivial. Not to mention, for an actress, facia
l burns would very likely end any chance for a career.”

  “Are you trying to scare me?” asked Piper. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly chilly.

  “If that’s what it takes to get you to be careful, then yes.” Vin unzipped the compact black nylon bag on his workbench. “Let me show you what’s in here.”

  Piper knew there was no point in protesting that she didn’t want to take the bag with her to California. She resigned herself to paying attention as her father emptied its contents.

  “Here are safety goggles and a face shield,” Vin said, handing the items to her. “Sulfuric acid can erode concrete and etch metal. Imagine what it could do your eyes and face.”

  “Dad, I’m going to be making a cake. I’m not working with chemicals.”

  Vin ignored her and continued, taking plastic bottles from the bag. “If, God forbid, acid does get in your eyes, here is sterile water. Flood your eyes with it, over and over. If you run out of the sterile stuff, use lukewarm water from the tap. And here are tissues, a mirror, and eye patches.”

  “Really, Dad?” Piper said incredulously. “I’m making a wedding cake.”

  “And what if you’re busy making your cake and somebody comes into the kitchen with his sulfuric acid and a plan to splash it all over you?” Vin didn’t wait for an answer to his question. “Here’s an acid-resistant apron and gloves. Wear them.”

  Piper took the apparel from her father.

  “Now, if you do come in contact with acid, rapid treatment is essential,” said Vin. “You have to get the acid off your body right away. Find a shower or a hose. Start washing while removing your clothes as quickly as you can. To hell with modesty. Strip off everything, even your shoes, and keep the water flowing for at least fifteen minutes. Do not apply any burn ointment or spray.”