Safe and Sound

by Fern Michaels

  “Do that and you’ll appear too eager. Patience is a virtue, but I guess you don’t have a clue as to what that means.”

  “Stuff it, Connor. The day has yet to arrive to signal you had a good idea. If I left it up to you, we’d be living in a tent and peeing in a ditch. You need to be preemptive and aggressive in this world or you get left behind. Now, which one of us is going to forge Ben’s name on the contract?”

  Connor threw his hands in the air. “You don’t even know if your offer was accepted yet. You don’t even know if the women have checked their voice mail. And it is possible someone else came in with a lower offer. I can’t talk to you anymore; you’re simply too stupid.”

  “Oh, and you’re so smart, is that what you’re saying?” Natalie sniped.

  “Damn straight that’s what I’m saying. I’m going out to the workshop. Do whatever the hell you want to do. Take a suggestion and clean this house for your interview tomorrow, so you can convince that reporter what a loving wife and stepmother you are. For whatever it’s worth, if she’s any kind of reporter, she’s going to see right through to what you really are.”

  Natalie picked up the jar of honey on the counter and heaved it at Connor, who expertly dodged it. The jar shattered against the wall, and honey dribbled everywhere. Connor laughed, an evil sound, as he barged through the door and out into the rain to head for the shed, where he hoped he could find some peace and quiet.

  Left to her own devices, Natalie started to pace again, paying careful attention to the widening pool of sticky honey on the floor. Why hadn’t the real-estate people called her back? What Connor said made sense even though she wanted instant gratification. She’d give them a few more hours. The big question looming now was whether she should tell them about the house being in Ben’s name before they found out or wait for them to mention it. Somewhere, she had to find something with Ben’s signature on it so she could practice copying it. Surely there would be something in his room, a workbook, a test paper, something where he’d signed his name. How hard could it be to copy a kid’s signature? First, she’d practice tracing it, then try it freehand. She told herself that in a few hours, she’d be able to write the kid’s name as well as she wrote her own. She stopped in midstride. What if the signature had to be notarized? How could she get around that? Don’t panic, she told herself over and over as she continued to pace. There was a solution to everything. You just had to find it.

  Where was that damn kid? What was his endgame? What did he think was going to happen by his hiding out? Natalie’s face turned into a mask of hate as she envisioned choking the life out of her eight-year-old meal ticket. Frustrated, she cursed long and loud, making up words she didn’t even know she knew.

  Tired with all the pacing and worrying, Natalie headed for the second floor to shower and dress for the day. She needed to calm down, and a shower usually did wonders. Then and only then would she venture into Ben’s room and get down to business.

  An hour later, feeling a little less stressed, Natalie opened the door to Ben’s room. She saw the unmade bed, his slippers at the side. His desk was neat, books piled up on both sides, his computer in the middle. She looked around. There were no pictures on the walls, no toys to be seen. No shelves on the wall to hold things. There was nothing in the closet except copy paper, a box of pens, and another box with paper clips. The dresser drawers had a few neatly folded tee shirts, some underwear, and some socks. A jacket hung on the clothes tree by the door. His book bag was gone. It was hard to believe this was a kid’s room. It never occurred to her to blame herself for not fixing the room for a little boy. She started to paw through the books on the desk until she found a workbook with Ben’s name on the inside of the cover. For a little kid, his penmanship was pretty decent, she decided, and wouldn’t be too hard to copy. She sat down and reached for a clean yellow legal pad. Then she turned on the computer and was surprised to see that an hour and a half had gone by, with still no response from the real-estate women.

  Connor’s words ringing in her ears, Natalie fell to work. Two hours passed before she was confident she had Ben’s signature down pat. She gathered up all her practice papers and left the room. Again, Connor’s words echoed in her ears. Maybe she should freshen up the living room. At least dust it, and maybe run the vacuum cleaner. And then there was that mess in the kitchen with the honey she had to clean up. With no other options at her disposal, she fell to the task and finished up at three o’clock, with still no return call from the real-estate people.

  Natalie peered out the back door. She could see her husband clear as anything as he worked the potter’s wheel. Connor had the emotions of a rock. Maybe she needed to think about making a clean sweep when she took care of Ben. There was no doubt in her mind that she could do both and not break a sweat. If she did that, the whole five million dollars would be hers. The minute the check was in her hands, she’d book a flight to somewhere in Europe and leave this life behind her.

  With nothing else to do, Natalie brewed a pot of tea and turned on the small television that sat on the counter. Time to see what was going on in the world. All it took was fifteen minutes of watching doom and gloom to make her change the channel to The Golden Girls. She gave that another ten minutes, then switched to the Shoppers Channel, where they were selling makeup. She watched, enthralled, as the makeup artist transformed homely looking women into showstoppers. She would have ordered it, but Connor, bastard that he was, had taken all her credit cards because they were maxed out. That alone was enough to reinforce her idea to take him out along with Ben.

  The clock on the stove said it was four-thirty. Still no call from the real-estate people.

  Call or not to call? She walked over to the door. Connor was still in his workroom, but now the lights were on. It was still raining. She should be thinking about dinner. Her days of ordering in or going out to dinner were long gone, so dinner was either ramen noodles or canned pasta, neither of which appealed to her.

  Natalie could feel the rage building in her as she contemplated the nearly empty pantry shelves. This was not what Connor Ryan had promised her.

  Not in a million years.

  Chapter 13

  The clock on the Range Rover’s dashboard said that it was nine-fifteen when Eleanor Lymen parked the car outside her house. She was so tired, she could barely keep her eyes open. She was almost sorry she had agreed to drive straight through in their rush to get home from Mississippi. She looked around at all the service trucks, then at the Nissan Sentra that belonged to her housekeeper, Martha. Cleanup was under way. She turned and raised her voice. “We’re home, girls! Wake up!”

  Irene and Rita struggled to sit upright, their hair mussed, their eyes glassy with fatigue. “What’s going on?” Rita asked as she looked around at all the service trucks.

  “My house is being put back in order. I called Martha, and she called all these people to come and do the repair work. I’ve been on the phone with her ever since I took over the wheel. She told me this wasn’t just a break-in. She said that whoever it was who invaded my house was full of rage and hate. She said they even pulled the chandeliers out of the ceiling. They weren’t just looking for something; they were bent on destroying whatever they could. She assured me that everything would be taken care of by noon. Then they’ll go to work on your house, Irene, and yours, Rita. So in the meantime, until all that is done, you’re staying with me.”

  Eleanor Lymen slid out of the driver’s seat on wobbly legs. The cool autumn air was like a soothing balm to her, and she was wide awake instantly. “Come along, we might as well face it and get it over with. I know it was Connor and that skank wife of his who did all this. I just know it,” she said vehemently. Irene and Rita agreed.

  All it took was one look at the kitchen to send Eleanor flying back outside, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Dear God, I didn’t know there could be such hate in a person! Why smash my great grandmother’s dishes? Why throw pans at the refrigerator to dent it? Why sm
ash the oven door? Who does things like that?” she cried.

  “A very sick person, Ellie, that’s who. I think you should call your friend Isabelle right now and tell her we’re back. But before you do that, let’s check in to the Holiday Inn, so we can take a shower, a nap, and put on some clean clothes. Ask her if we can drive out to wherever they are, so we can see Ben. I want you, and us, too, to be clicking on all our cylinders when we see our boy. It makes sense, Ellie,” Irene said.

  “Irene’s right. All of this,” Rita said, waving her hand behind her, “can be fixed. Right now, you feel like you’ve been violated, and you have, but that’s all going to change and those . . . those two evil people will be made to pay. Get in the car. I’m driving,” she said, taking charge. “Do. Not. Look. Back. Just get in the car.”

  Eleanor nodded and climbed into the backseat. “Whatever would I do without you two,” she cried.

  “It’s a two-way street, Ellie. We wouldn’t know what to do without you, either,” Irene said.

  “Together, we make a good team. So far, we’re doing pretty good, so let’s keep it that way,” Rita admonished, tearing out of the driveway and heading for the ring road that would take them to the highway and the Holiday Inn three miles down the road. If any of them had been paying attention to the opposite side of the road, they would have seen Natalie Ryan at the stop sign, her face contorted in rage.

  “No one is expecting us till sometime tomorrow, so we’re ahead of the game. We can shower, take a nap, and dream about our reunion with Ben. Then we put on clean clothes and find someplace that will serve us a superior lunch. Finally, if Isabelle gives us the okay, we drive out to McLean for our reunion with Ben. Win-win!” Rita grinned.

  In spite of herself, Eleanor laughed out loud. “I wish I had bought a present for Ben. We should have gotten him something. Little boys like presents. Why didn’t we think about that, girls?” Her voice was fretful at this lack of foresight.

  “Well, we didn’t, so no sense dwelling on it. We have the rest of our lives to buy him presents. Ben isn’t like other little boys, Ellie. Think about it. What could we have bought him? Action figures? I don’t think so. Games? Nope. Trucks, cars? He’s too big for those. Knowing what I know about kids today, we would have had to buy some high-tech gadget, and Neanderthals that we are, we probably would have bought the wrong thing,” Irene said.

  “There is that,” Eleanor agreed as she thought about her friend’s words.

  “Okay, we’re here. I hope this is the last time we have to live out of a suitcase and spend half our days at a Laundromat. When things get back to normal, whatever normal turns out to be, I am going to hang out in my nightgown for a solid week and eat nothing but junk food, take naps, and watch those soap operas we haven’t had time to watch in the last six months. I’m not going to answer the door, the phone, or look at mail, either. So there!” Irene announced.

  “Hear, hear. Well said. I think we’re too old for continuing adventures. What about you, Ellie?” Rita asked.

  “I’m working on a plan,” Eleanor said. And no amount of cajoling from her two friends could make her share what her plan was.

  * * *

  While the three old friends were showering and snoozing, the sisters were waking up at Pinewood and doing their thing, which meant making breakfast and going through their plans for the day.

  Yoko had griddle duty and was making pancakes while Kathryn layered bacon on a special rack just for microwave ovens. Alexis squeezed orange juice while Myra and Annie pored over a blank real-estate contract that Nikki had provided. Maggie had coffee duty, while Isabelle responded to e-mails and texts on her smart phone.

  Ben and the dogs had yet to make an appearance.

  “So when are you going to call the Ryans and put them out of their misery?” Nikki asked, her question directed at Myra, who looked up and smiled.

  “Right now. Stop what you’re all doing so you can hear; I am going to put the call on speakerphone. Let’s see how Mrs. Ryan responds to my little bombshell. Now what name was it that you called me by, Annie? Do you remember?”

  “Yes. Do you think I would forget something like that? I was Martha, and you were Alice. Now go ahead and call, Alice.”

  “Okay,” Myra said. All eyes were on Myra as she pressed the numbers for Natalie’s cell phone. It wasn’t picked up until the fourth ring. “She’s playing hard to get,” Myra said, mouthing the words for the others. “You know she just has to be standing there waiting for this call.”

  “Hello.” Myra grinned.

  “Hello yourself, Mrs. Ryan. This is Alice. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you, but you know how it is when you’re dealing with someone on the other side of the world. Sheik Abdullah has accepted your offer for five million dollars. All furnishings conveyed. As you agreed. There is one problem, however.”

  Myra strained and thought she heard Natalie Ryan suck in a deep breath as she waited for whatever the problem was. “What kind of problem is that?” Natalie asked coolly.

  “The house is not in your name or your husband’s name. That’s the problem.”

  “Really? Oh, pooh, that’s not a problem. Why ever would you think that would be an obstacle? Ben is more than agreeable to selling this huge house. We talked to him at great length yesterday about the possibility of selling it and putting the money in a trust for him. He understands things like that.

  “That child is like a mini financial wizard. My husband says if he wanted to, Ben could give those boys on Wall Street a run for their money. But I digress. We, Connor and I, are Ben’s legal guardians because Connor adopted him. Everything was done legally and aboveboard. We have all the paperwork.

  “I don’t know if you know this or not, but Ben will graduate from college in December. He wants to take a year off and do nothing before he registers at the Institute for his master’s the following year. He was the one who suggested we should downsize. When he registers for his master’s, he plans to live in the dorms with the other students at the Institute. At that point, he seems to think turning ten years old means something special. Who are we to argue with a genius like Ben? What that means is that we won’t really need this big house. We’ll get a smaller one in a nice neighborhood where Ben can make friends this next year. So what is the problem?” The edge in Natalie’s voice did not go unnoticed by the sisters.

  “I’m not exactly sure, Mrs. Ryan, but our attorneys said they will need to speak to your attorney before we can go any further. We’re dealing with a very wealthy man who isn’t familiar with how Americans do things, so we have to be careful. My bosses don’t want to get sued for doing something wrong or possibly illegal.”

  “Wrong? Illegal?” Natalie had to fight to control the rage that was slowly beginning to creep into her tone.

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. We just have to make sure all our i’s are dotted and all our t’s are crossed. The only way that can happen is if lawyers are involved and are on the same page. After all, five million dollars is an awful lot of money. I’m sure all it will take is for you to take Ben to the lawyer’s or have the lawyer talk to Ben. For what your attorney charges an hour, I’m sure he’ll make a house call. You did say Ben was sick. How is he feeling, by the way? Better, I hope.”

  Natalie’s mind raced. Part of her knew she was screwed. The other part of her refused to believe it. She looked at Connor, who was staring at her with hate-filled eyes, knowing she was going to go down for the count. Like hell. “Thank you for asking. At first we thought Ben might have appendicitis, but that was ruled out.” It wasn’t exactly a lie since she’d made it up to begin with, so she could rule it out just as easily. “I’m thinking he has chicken pox, because he has these red blotches all over his stomach and chest. Also, he’s got a fever, so no, we are not taking him out. He’s sleeping right now, and I’m not about to wake him up.”

  Myra looked around at the sisters, and quietly mouthed the words, “She’s quick on the uptake.”


  Natalie clenched her teeth and decided to take a gamble. “I’m sensing something here that’s bothering me. It’s almost like . . . like you don’t trust me and my husband. Maybe we should just forget this. We’re not in a hurry to sell. You did come to us, if you remember. Until yesterday, we were just in the thinking stage of selling. It’s all up to Ben. Connor and I can live anywhere. It is what it is. If it’s meant to be, we’ll find the right buyer when the time is right. Ben is my top priority right now. I’m going to have to cut this conversation short because Connor and I promised to do an interview with a reporter from the Post, and I have to get ready. Thank you for calling me back, Alice. Bye.”

  Myra’s face registered shock, amazement, then anger. “She called my bluff! Do you believe that! Now what, ladies?”

  * * *

  While the sisters debated Myra’s conversation and what should be their next move, Connor Ryan’s jaw dropped to the floor with the same shock, amazement, and anger the sisters were feeling. “What the hell was that all about? What are you up to now, Natalie? Do you have any idea how asinine you sounded? If that woman didn’t think you were crazy before, she’s certain of it now.”

  “You are so stupid sometimes, Connor. I can smell a rat a hundred miles away. And this reeks of eau de rodent. I think those two women were trying to set us up. It’s all about Ben. It’s not about us or the sale of this house. Let’s see if they call us back and accept our signatures on the contract. You think about all that while I get dressed for the interview. By the way, when I went to the Krispy Kreme for our bagels and coffee, guess who I saw!”

  “Stop with the games. Who did you see?”

  “Those three old biddies. They were on the opposite side of the road going away from the Circle. I saw them, but they didn’t see me. You need to call the lawyer and tell him Eleanor Lymen is back in town and have her arrested. There’s a bench warrant out for her arrest, which was never enforced because she and her friends had left town in the middle of the night. She needs to pony up that money the court ordered her to pay us.”