by Nancy Warren
“Yep,” he said, pulling away, “Definitely good taste.”
21
WHEN THEY DREW UP at the gates of Charlie’s mother’s mansion she realized that Charlie’s family was even richer than she’d realized. The place was one of those huge old mansions built in the boom times of lumber magnates, railway barons and oil tycoons.
He drove her about two hundred miles up a tree-lined driveway to the mansion. “Don’t worry,” he said, when she hesitated to get out of the car. “You’ll be fine.”
She drew in a breath. Nodded. Put her hand on the door handle.
As she was getting out of the car, he said, “By the way, I love you.”
She stuck her head back in and stared at him. “What did you say?”
His eyes laughed up at her, but she saw the earnestness behind them. “I said, I love you.”
“And you tell me now?”
“I figure it will take your mind off being scared of my mother.”
Her hand went to her heart. She searched his face for a “gotcha” sign, but there wasn’t one. If anything he appeared uncertain for the first time since she’d met him.
“You’re serious,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
“But—”
“No buts. My ego can’t take them right now. We’ll talk later. I just wanted you to know. Have a great lunch.”
In a daze she shut the car door and heard him pull away. She tottered to the door and knocked on the shiny lion’s-head knocker. This was the kind of door that could afford one of Carl’s knockers, she realized.
The door was opened promptly by a uniformed maid. “Good afternoon, miss.”
“Good afternoon. I’m Alexandra Drake.”
“Come in, please. Mrs. Pendegraff is expecting you.” The woman had a Polish accent. From a working-class half-Polish family herself, she suspected she’d have a lot more in common with this woman than with the WASP down the hall.
The maid led Lexy past exquisite paintings and antiques and into a salon where Sarah Pendegraff awaited her.
“Lexy dear, how nice of you to come on such short notice,” Sarah Pendegraff said, rising gracefully from a pretty little writing desk where she’d been penning a note. It was a vision out of an era gone by.
She gave Lexy a quick hug scented with Joy, and led the way to a pair of floral chintz sofas. Her dress was also a soft floral print and there were bowls of roses throughout the room.
After pouring out two sherries into tiny crystal glasses, she said, “I’m so glad you could come today. Normally I wouldn’t have lunch at this hour, but after being out until all hours I thought a late meal would be more appropriate.”
“Yes. Thank you again for last night. It was a wonderful evening.”
“Mmm. I was just writing a thank-you note to Florence Grayson. The trouble is finding something fresh to say about an event one attends every year. The flowers, I suppose, they were certainly different.”
“Yes.” Should she have sent a thank-you note to Charlie’s mother? What with thefts and attempted murders she really hadn’t had a moment to keep up her social correspondence.
“I, um, this is a lovely home,” she managed.
“Thank you. I’ve always liked it. Of course, it’s getting too big for me now, but I plan to live here and keep it up until Charlie settles down. Then I’ll move into an apartment I own on 83rd.”
She smiled. “Well, you’re obviously important to Charlie and that makes you important to me. I thought we should get to know each other.”
His words echoed freshly in her head. I love you. Not exactly words she’d imagined she’d hear from him, and definitely not after they’d known each other only a few days. If he’d intended to rock her world, he’d definitely done it.
“May I ask you a somewhat personal question?” Lexy asked.
“Of course you can. Ask me anything.”
“Am I like Charlie’s other girlfriends?”
“Hmm. That’s not a terribly easy question to answer. You’re very beautiful, of course, which I must say all his women have been. You’re also hardworking and ambitious, which probably about half of his women have been.”
It sounded like a cast of thousands had come before her. As though his mother read her thoughts she said, “But I’ll tell you one way in which you’re different. He’s never been in love with any of them.”
“He told you he’s in love with me?” She almost croaked the words.
“Yes. But he didn’t have to. I could see it when he looked at you last night.”
Sarah sipped her sherry. “And pardon me if this is too personal, but I saw it when you looked at him, too.”
“Oh, but, I’m…I mean. You did?”
“Maybe it was a mother’s fond hope, but yes, I did.”
“I, this is all so…We haven’t known each other very long.”
“I’m not sure you need to. Love isn’t something you can plan or schedule. It doesn’t happen when it’s convenient or you’re the right age, or your partner has the correct pedigree. Love happens in entirely inappropriate and glorious ways.” She laughed. “Not that I have a great deal of personal experience, of course. The only man I ever loved was my husband. Charlie’s father. Charlie’s a lot like him.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why? Because he’s a thief?”
Her eyes bugged open and she almost dropped her sherry glass down her brand-new Gucci wrap dress. She’d even run into one of the boutiques that carried some of her costume jewelry so she could wear one of her own pieces to give her confidence. Dropping her drink down her front wouldn’t do much to keep up the image, but she was so shocked she could barely hang on to the thing. “You know about that?”
“Of course. We don’t have a huge number of secrets from each other, Charlie and I. Perhaps it’s because he’s an only child, but we’ve always been close.” She sighed. “Of course, it’s never a mother’s dream, but honestly, dear, I think larceny is in the blood.”
“In the blood?” This conversation was taking the most extraordinary turn.
“Yes. We can trace our family back quite far. On my side, we were pirates,” she said with relish.
“Pirates? Like Johnny Depp pirates?”
“A little more bloodthirsty than that, I believe. My many times great-grandmother was a well-born young lady expected to make a great marriage. When returning from her convent school to her parents’ home in France, the ship she was on was attacked by pirates. Her kidnapper was the son of a deposed duke, there were so many in those days, who’d been stripped of everything. So, the son turned to piracy and did quite well for himself, if you disregard the price on his head and the fact that he couldn’t turn up in decent society without immediately being taken out and hanged.”
“My goodness.”
“Well, my many times great-grandmother, whose name was Veronique, by the way, and the pirate fell in love. It’s an extraordinary story because he actually escorted her to her home, in spite of the price on his head. She was completely unharmed and quite determined to marry him. When they got to her home, he formally asked for her hand in marriage. Of course, her family was so relieved to have her returned to them that they almost agreed on the spot. But he was a pirate and a rascal and she was their only daughter so they said that if he could reestablish his reputation, he could have her.”
“Lunch is served, Mrs. Pendegraff.”
“Ah, thank you, Sophia.”
The women moved into the dining room, which had been laid for two.
“I thought something simple. It’s just salads and quiche. Is that all right?”
“Oh, it’s perfect.”
When they were seated, Lexy said, “So, what happened to your many times great-grandmother and the pirate?”
“It’s like a fairy tale, really. He had so much money that he could afford to buy a pardon from the Pope and then he bought himself a nice estate in France and renewed his addresses. Veronique had, by this time,
made it clear that she wasn’t interested in any other man, so they were allowed to marry. It was a very successful marriage, by all accounts, and they had twelve children.”
“Twelve children?”
“Veronique wrote about her adventures in a diary, which was passed down through the family. That’s how I know so much about her. Anyway, on my side at least, there’s historical evidence of thievery. So, when Charlie went into the business, I had to wonder if it was hereditary.” She passed a bread basket to Lexy. “Of course, all that’s behind him now.”
“Are you sure?”
“As much as I can be. I think he was bored more than anything. His father was a truly wonderful man and a brilliant lawyer. I think Charlie felt that he couldn’t compete and, as boys are wont to do, decided to do whatever was the opposite of what his father wanted for him.”
“He couldn’t have become a used car dealer or a stockbroker or something?”
The older woman smiled. “Charlie tends to go all out when he puts his mind to something.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
Lunch was surprisingly pleasant after that. There was something about a woman admitting her family tree contained thieves and pirates that encouraged intimacy. They discussed jewelry, food and fashion. They were enjoying coffee when Sophia entered the room.
“Excuse me for interrupting, but Florence Grayson is on the phone. She says it is urgent.”
“Florence Grayson? Good heavens. Whatever can she want? Do you mind if I take it, Lexy?”
“No. Of course not.” But internal alarms were going off. Why was Florence Grayson phoning Charlie’s mother? And where was the murderous Mr. G.?
The phone conversation made its meandering way through the evening before, compliments were exchanged, while Lexy wished Charlie were here. How could she tell his mother that one of her oldest friends was married to a psychopath?
She tried not to eavesdrop, but it was impossible not to when she heard her own name. “Lexy?” Sarah Pendegraff’s voice trailed upward in surprise.
Lexy waved her hands, “No,” but Charlie’s mother was busy fixing one of the blooms in the rose bowl in the middle of the table and didn’t see her. “As a matter of fact she’s here now. We were enjoying a late lunch.”
Only then did she glance up at Lexy and must have read horror in her face. “But unfortunately she’s about to leave. Yes, of course, I’ll tell her. All right. Thank you again for a lovely party last night. Goodbye.”
She hung up and turned to Lexy. “Florence Grayson would like you to call her at your earliest convenience.”
“Did she say why?”
“No. Florence sounded odd. She seemed very anxious to talk to you. In fact, now I think about it, she was rather strange last night when she first met you. I—” She slapped a perfectly manicured hand over her mouth. “Whatever is wrong with me? Forgive me, dear. I feel I’ve been horribly gauche. Never mind. I’ve put her off, now. Told her you’re about to leave.”
But Lexy was still puzzling over the woman’s odd comments. “Gauche? Why would you think you were being gauche? Mrs. Grayson did act strangely when she met me, but—” Then the obvious conclusion came to her. If Charlie knew about Grayson’s mistress, she supposed a woman as plugged into the social network as his mother obviously was would be bound to know that the man had a wandering eye.
“Oh.” Lexy felt herself becoming flustered. She had Charlie telling her he was in love with her, his mother thinking she’d had an affair with Grayson, the man’s wife wanting to talk to her. This really was the craziest day. “If you’re thinking that Mr. Grayson and I…um, knew each other, well, no. I never met him before last night.”
She fidgeted in her chair. Glanced at the French ormolu clock atop the marble mantel. Where was Charlie? “I’m hoping when your son gets here he can explain everything.”
She didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability that possessed her. Here she was in a house she didn’t know with an older woman who seemed more adept at flower arranging than self-defense and the wife of a murderous criminal knew where she was. If Florence happened to mention to her husband that Lexy was here, what was to stop the man from sending his thugs to try to get at her?
Charlie said he’d arranged security, but she still felt a little nervous. A scratching sound at the window had her jumping out of her seat and assuming a defensive posture. She wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Lexy. What’s wrong? It’s only Buttons, my cat.”
Before her bemused gaze, a sleek Siamese slinked its way from the window into the room. “You’re not allergic, are you?”
“No.” She took a slow, deliberate breath and sat back down feeling incredibly foolish. “I’m a little jumpy, that’s all.”
Charlie’s mother regarded her steadily. “Perhaps you’d better tell me what’s going on?”
“You won’t like it.”
Sarah smiled slowly. “Then we’d better take coffee back in the sitting room.”
They’d barely got their coffees when Sophia’s voice was heard in the hall, coming toward them, a man answered her and Lexy wilted with relief. Charlie was here. Somehow he made her feel that everything would be all right. On her own, she felt overwhelmed by all that was going on, but with the two of them working as a team, she felt like they could do anything.
The door opened. “Mr. Grayson, ma’am.”
22
“OH, NO,” Lexy said, and without conscious thought, rose and went to stand by Charlie’s mother’s side determined to protect the woman to the best of her ability.
Grayson entered and if his reddened cheeks and frantic eyes gave away his agitation, she could see that he was trying to hold on to his facade of composure. “I’m so sorry to trouble you, Sarah, but Florence left word that she was on her way here and I must speak to her about something important.”
“You two can’t afford cell phones?” Lexy snapped.
He blinked at her, then made a helpless gesture with hands that shook slightly. “I know it’s silly, but neither of us can bear them. At a time like this, it would be useful, though. It’s really very important that I find her.” He glanced around the room as though his wife might be hiding behind a piece of furniture. “You’re sure you haven’t seen her?”
“No,” Sarah said. “She telephoned earlier, but obviously, it’s not convenient for me to have a visitor. I’m having lunch with Alexandra.”
“Yes. Of course. I’m so sorry to bother you.” He scratched at his face and she could see the bulge of a hive. “If she shows up, will you let me know?”
“Yes. Certainly.”
As he turned, the door behind him was thrust open and Charlie appeared. “Oh, thank God,” Lexy murmured, feeling somehow that everything would be all right now Charlie was here. His gaze took in the scene at a glance and settled on hers. The smile in his eyes was relieved, intimate.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded of Grayson, maneuvering his body so that he was between the man and the two women.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I am looking for my wife.”
The man looked as though he wanted to say more, but ended up turning slowly toward the door. Which opened again before he reached it.
Mrs. Grayson flew in the room. Her eyes were wild, her hair askew.
“Florence, thank heaven.”
“Don’t you Florence me.” The woman opened her purse, one of those with designer logos printed all over it that Lexy always found tacky. She pulled out a mass of gold and green and just as Lexy realized it was the necklace, she squeezed her fist around the gems and threw the jewelry at Lexy.
Transfixed, they all watched the flash of diamond, emerald and the duller shine of gold as the necklace sailed through the air. Reflexively Lexy grabbed it before it could fall to the floor.
“You bitch!” the woman screamed. “You’ve ruined everything.”
“Florence, dear, please,” her husband said in a soothing tone. More hives ha
d broken out on his face in bright red raised patches.
“Don’t you talk to me, you sniveling fool. It’s not the right necklace. She switched it.” And the woman broke down into tears.
Edward Grayson patted his sobbing wife awkwardly on the shoulder but she shook him off.
“My wife’s very upset. You see, she believes you’ve got her necklace. It’s very important to her. Sentimental value and all that.”
Charlie and Lexy exchanged another glance.
Charlie moved closer to Edward. “You must be pretty surprised to see Lexy and me alive.”
“Of course I’m not. I saw you last night. You both appeared perfectly healthy.”
“Yeah. That was before your thugs came in and stole the necklace and tried to kill us. If you’re here to finish the job, you’re wasting your time.”
“I don’t believe it’s stealing to retrieve your own property. If there’s a thief in this room, Pendegraff, it’s you.”
“Retired thief,” Charlie corrected him.
Mrs. Grayson was sobbing quietly into her hands. “The necklace was mine. Why did he take it?”
Sarah moved to her old friend. “Can I get you something, Florence? Coffee? A glass of water perhaps?”
The distraught woman nodded and allowed herself to be led to the sofa and gently seated. Charlie’s mother poured water from a pitcher on a side table. Lexy imagined the Polish servant keeping the water refreshed all day so it was always fresh. Like the rose bowls.
Sarah pressed the glass into Florence Grayson’s hand.
“Thank you,” the woman whispered and sipped her drink.
“I didn’t take your necklace, Mrs. Grayson. I was hired to steal it back. Your husband hired me. But he also hired thugs to kill me, kill Lexy and take the necklace back by force. Why would you do that, Grayson? Why?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I want to kill you? I wanted the gems back quietly.”
“And you wanted a certain young woman who stole them disposed of quietly, didn’t you?”