Piper turned to face Irene as she tried to think what to do. Her means of escape were limited. The garage door was shut, and the button to open it was at the kitchen door. The only way out was past the woman standing in the doorway with a carving knife in her hand.
Irene stepped closer.
Then Piper had an idea. She inched toward the Mercedes that stood between her and Irene. In an instant she had opened the door, hopped inside, and quickly hit the button to lock the car.
She watched in terror as Irene ran toward the car and started pulling on the door handle. Her red face was twisted with rage. “Get out of that car!” Irene commanded. “Get out now.” She was tugging at the door with such strength that the antitheft alarm was triggered.
The earsplitting sound of its angry blaring reverberated throughout the closed garage.
The alarm system sensed that the car was being tampered with and automatically sent a signal to the Mercedes-Benz response center. An automatically generated text message was immediately sent to Vernon Abernathy’s cell phone, notifying him that his car was threatened.
Irene’s eyes widened at the sound of the insistent, blasting alarm. Why hadn’t she demanded to have her own set of keys to Vernon’s car? Then she’d simply be able to unlock the door and get to Piper.
She cast about wildly, looking around the garage for something—anything—that she could use to get inside the car.
There it was! Leaning against the wall.
She ran over to Vernon’s golf bag and pulled out a driver.
Vernon read the text message. He wasn’t really worried about theft. He knew that his car was safe. It was at home in the garage.
Maybe he should call home anyway, though, just to be sure everything was all right. He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers. As he listened to the continuing rings, he felt increasing frustration.
Why wasn’t anyone picking up? He didn’t need this at all. Didn’t they know he already had enough to worry about?
Thwack!
Irene used all her strength, smashing the head of the golf club against the driver’s-side window.
Terrified, Piper held her hands and forearms in front of her face and eyes, crouching low on the seat to shield herself from the glass she was sure was going to fly down on her. She listened to the pounding again as Irene slammed the metal driver against the glass. Eventually she heard a cracking sound.
God, help me!
Piper ventured a look. The glass had fractured, but the golf club hadn’t broken through. That couldn’t last much longer.
Vernon pulled his house keys from his pocket and handed them to the security guard.
“The alarm in my car has activated. Can you please go over to the house and turn it off?”
As Piper looked up, she saw that the garage door’s remote control was clipped to the visor over the steering wheel.
Thwack!
She then noticed a bulbous black key head protruding from the visor’s edge. She reached out to pull down the visor, and the car key fell to the floor.
Jack claimed his bag at the carousel. The mild California air welcomed him as he walked outside the terminal to hail a cab. He was tempted to call Piper and tell her that he was there, but he decided he wanted to see her face when he surprised her.
“The Elysium Spa, please,” he instructed the driver as he got into the taxi.
He had waited this long to see Piper. He could wait a little longer.
Piper pushed the remote button, and the garage door began to open. But what good was it unless she had the wherewithal to turn the car on and back out?
The key had fallen to the floor, but Piper couldn’t see it from the crouched position she was in. She reached down and groped blindly, trying to find it. Finally the tips of her fingers touched it.
Focus. Focus. Don’t look out at Irene. Focus.
She wrapped her fingers around the key, but as she lifted it, it hit the steering wheel and slipped out of her grasp.
Thwack! Thwack!
Piper was frantic. Where is it? Where is it?
She desperately felt along the car floor until she found the key again. The golf club came down hard against the glass as she started the ignition, shifted the car into reverse, and slammed her foot on the gas, tearing out of the garage.
Epilogue
FRIDAY, JANUARY 14
Piper held the cell phone to her ear with one hand while she threw clothes into her duffel bag with the other. She could hear Emmett barking in the background as she talked to her father.
“The director was a little psycho, but the shoot went really well today, Dad,” said Piper. “The commercial will start airing in the spring and let’s hope it gets lots of prime-time play so I make some money. And who knows? Somebody could see me in it and think of me for something else.”
She looked over at Jack. He was lounging on the bed, watching her. She winked at him as she continued her phone conversation.
“Yes, I’m totally fine, Dad. I’m about to check out. Jack and I are going to take a ride up the coast to San Luis Obispo for the weekend. We have reservations to take the red-eye back home on Sunday night.”
Though Piper was a bit apprehensive, she was excited about the trip. Being away from Jack and not talking to him had made her realize how much she missed him, how much he meant to her. When he showed up at Elysium, within an hour of her confrontation in the garage with Irene, Piper threw herself into his arms. He held her as she cried and comforted her while she poured out her story. Jack had guided and accompanied her through all the police questioning. Piper didn’t know what she would have done without him.
“Please, Dad. You and Mom need to stop worrying,” she said as she zipped the top of her bag. “It’s all good. But I gotta go, Dad. I have one more thing to do for Jillian Abernathy.”
Sister Mary Noelle set out dozens of extra candles around the chapel. As she held a flame to each wick, she offered another prayer. She prayed for the souls of Esperanza Flores and Lillie Ulster, and she prayed for the living victims of Kyle Quigley.
Then Sister Mary Noelle said prayers of thanks. Jillian was safe and unharmed. So was their father. Irene was in police custody and would not be able to hurt anyone else. In addition to the incriminating evidence in the hope chest, the skin embedded beneath Esperanza’s fingernails was being tested to see if it belonged to Irene.
The police had also taken Irene’s computer and had discovered the Web sites she’d visited three years earlier with all the articles she’d accessed describing air embolisms as a cause of death and how to administer them without being detected. Sister Mary Noelle hoped that finally her father would stop blaming himself. He had nothing to do with her mother’s death.
Irene would face legal justice. More important, God would judge her and hold her accountable for her sins.
The nun smiled as she walked to the back of the chapel to get an overview of how the place would look to Jillian when she walked down the candlelit aisle. On very short notice, the chancery office had granted permission for the wedding to take place here at the monastery. In front of God, family, and just a few close friends, Jillian and Ben were going to be married in this consecrated chapel by a priest, rather than in a gazebo with a justice of the peace.
God had answered Sister Mary Noelle’s prayer.
The two round pumpkin layers were baked, cooled, and waiting for Piper when she arrived at the Monastery of the Angels kitchen. She got to work immediately, spreading the cream-cheese icing before stacking them. When the entire cake was covered, white and smooth, Piper got out her piping tips and the containers of fondant and gum paste.
First she worked on making the wings, rolling out thin circles of gum paste, tracing her handmade pattern, and carefully cutting them out. Then she brushed the wings with silver luster dust and set them aside to dry.
&n
bsp; The heads and bodies both were made with fondant. Piper rolled out small round balls and larger-size cones, fashioning the bottoms of the cones into the folds of flowing gowns. After making tiny indentations for eyes and mouths, she gently connected heads to bodies with toothpicks. She used edible glue to attach gum-paste arms to the sides of the angels’ gowns, and then she attached the silvery wings to the angels’ backs.
Taking an icing-filled decorating bag, she squeezed a zigzag edging around the base and another one on the top edge. Changing to tip #10, she placed hearts at precise intervals on the sides of the cake and the perimeter of the top layer, leaving a space in the middle. She gingerly set her angels in the center.
Standing back, Piper admired her work. She snapped a picture and posted it on Facebook along with her comment:
NOT TO PAT MYSELF ON THE BACK, BUT . . . LOOK AT THIS!
Piper walked out of the convent and into the garden, where Jack was sitting on a concrete bench waiting for her.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said.
He nodded toward the chapel. “You’re sure you don’t want to go to the wedding?” he asked.
“No,” Piper answered. “I’m ready to leave the City of Angels.”
“You’ll probably have to come back, you know,” said Jack, “to testify in the trials.”
She shrugged as she looked up at the Hollywood sign perched high up in the hills above the convent. “I hope I have lots of reasons to come back here,” she said.
Hand in hand, they strolled to the parking lot.
Piper looked up into Jack’s dark brown eyes. “Are you always going to play my knight in shining armor and come sweeping in to rescue me?” she asked.
“Only if you’ll let me,” he answered.
Terri Donovan’s Icing on the Cupcake Cream-Cheese Frosting
½ cup butter (1 stick), at room temperature
1½ cups cream cheese, also at room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 cups confectioners’ sugar
Using an electric mixer at medium speed, beat the butter, cream cheese, and vanilla until smooth. Turn the mixer down to lowest speed and add the confectioners’ sugar, a little at a time, until it’s completely combined and smooth.
This recipe makes enough frosting for a triple-layer cake.
Author’s Note
There is a real Monastery of the Angels. It is a cloistered convent that sits beneath the Hollywood sign in Los Angeles. To support themselves, the nuns do make the most delicious pumpkin bread, available to the public for purchase.
For more information, go to: www.themonasteryoftheangelslosangeles.com.
Sister Mary Noelle, Mother Mary Dominic, Sister Aloysius, and the things they say and do in this book are entirely the product of the author’s imagination.
Acknowledgments
Angels.
I’m a firm believer because I’ve experienced so many of them. Not the gauzy-gowned, golden-winged variety. I’m talking about the human ones that come, some utterly unexpected, and assist you through your life. Allow me to tell you about the angels that helped with The Look of Love.
A halo goes to Father Paul Holmes. Father Holmes has been on the job as I’ve written fourteen books now, supporting me and contributing his keen mind and rich imagination, along with a host of editorial skills. This is not the first time I’ve said it: Thank God for you, Paul.
Elizabeth Higgins Clark served as a fabulous guide in the City of Angels. Elizabeth, my actress daughter, is the inspiration for Piper Donovan. Elizabeth provides theatrical insights and makes sure Piper’s voice is authentic.
Many thanks to Anastasia Fernands for supporting Cape Rep Theatre by purchasing a winning ticket and thus becoming a character in this book. My appreciation also goes to Michael Ghant for lending his name and, more important, for creating wonderful and inspirational programs for people with special needs. You are both angels.
Beth Tindall did a heavenly job as she redesigned www.maryjaneclark.com.
Two special angels continue to whisper in my ear. Jennifer Rudolph Walsh allows me to have my head in the clouds as she keeps her feet on the ground and expertly steers the business end of my writing career. Joni Evans, what can I say? Again and again, as busy as you are, you come through for me.
I’d like to take this opportunity to acknowledge the people at William Morrow/HarperCollins for their support and dedication. My insightful, creative editor Carrie Feron along with Lynn Grady, Jean Marie Kelly, Stephanie Kim, Michael Morrison, Shawn Nichols, Sharyn Rosenblum, Virginia Stanley, Liate Stehlick, and Tessa Woodward are a hardworking, professional team. Maureen Sugden is a dream of a copy editor. I realize there are so many others, unnamed here, who also contributed their publishing talents to bring this book to fruition.
Many, many thanks, my angels. This writer is blessed to have all of you.
About the Author
Like Piper Donovan, New York Times bestselling author MARY JANE CLARK has a mother who made customized cakes for the neighborhood kids when Mary Jane was growing up. After a career at CBS News and writing twelve media thrillers, the author envisioned the Piper Donovan/Wedding Cake mystery series. The daughter of an FBI agent, Mary Jane is the mother of two grown children and splits her time between New Jersey and Florida. Currently, she is concocting her next novel.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Also by Mary Jane Clark
To Have and to Kill
Dying for Mercy
It Only Takes a Moment
When Day Breaks
Lights Out Tonight
Dancing in the Dark
Hide Yourself Away
Nowhere to Run
Nobody Knows
Close to You
Let Me Whisper in Your Ear
Do You Promise Not to Tell?
Do You Want to Know a Secret?
Credits
Cover design by Mumtaz Mustafa
Cover photographic collage © by Superstock
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE LOOK OF LOVE. Copyright © 2012 by Mary Jane Clark. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-0-06-199556-9
EPub Edition © JANUARY 2012 ISBN: 9780062099143
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