by Adam Zorzi
Worse, she sicced the feds on him for cyber-stalking. Wanting to know his daughter wasn't a crime, yet LouLou flung him back into the filthy hole of justice from which he'd barely climbed above. He was back in Petersburg serving a sentence.
The ridiculous woman had thrown away millions of dollars that could have changed her life. In Bella's experience as a living person, no one except the über-rich tossed more than $10 million aside. For all LouLou knew, that money could cure schizophrenia. Bella didn't appreciate her gift being considered tainted and untouchable.
Twice Bella had wished LouLou love. Maybe the first time, LouLou rejected it without thinking. Bella gave her a second chance. She'd written a duplicate note, placed it in LouLou's loft, and again, the foolish woman shredded her note. Bella wasn't going to wish love for LouLou a third time. LouLou wasn't going to have love.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-SEVEN
They reached the barn. Liz and Collin had four horses, but they boarded horses for friends in DC who came out on weekends. The facilities were top notch. Collin greeted the grooms and exercise riders by name as he and LouLou made their way to the filly's stall.
“Here she is. Ridiculous long name. We call her Buttercup. She's so jaunty and fresh. Her conformation is a bit off for a Thoroughbred, and her owner didn't want to keep her. Liz fell in love with her and brought her home from Lexington. Rented and drove the horse trailer herself. She's a determined one, my Liz.”
Buttercup nuzzled Collin's shoulder. He pulled out a carrot, placed it flat in his hand, and offered it to her. She took it immediately. “Feel how soft her muzzle is.”
LouLou reached up and touched the young horse. Her nose was softer than a feather. “She's sweet. I like her.”
“Liz has got your mother taking her for walks on a lead. I think they'll become fast friends.” Someone caught Collin's eye. “Excuse me. I'll be right back.” He handed LouLou another carrot for Buttercup.
Stroking the horse's face and ears was soothing. Just touching Buttercup, who felt like a combination of silk and fur, made LouLou feel calmer.
Tux had just settled down for a nap by the time Collin returned. “Ready to head back?” He reached down to scratch Tux's ears. “He's a sad fellow. I'm a poor substitute for your dad. He's getting old too. We'll walk slower back to the house.”
LouLou took a last look at Buttercup and the barn.
“You have an extra stall. Another horse coming soon?”
“No, that's the ghost stall.”
LouLou stopped. “The what?”
“Liz believes ghosts can be horses. She always keeps an extra stall. I think she's mentioned that it's been used at least twice.”
Interesting. Entirely credible now that she knew Gregg.
“Thank you, Uncle Collin. Thank you for not minding that I'm adopted. Truly, I could have lived my life without knowing or caring. I felt awful for Mom and Dad. They were wonderful parents. They gave me so many opportunities growing up and never smothered or stifled my interests. They did everything to get me the best treatment when I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. They could easily have put me in an institution, but they went through what I can imagine were unbearable times. Still, they encouraged me to live normally. I'd do anything for them.”
Collin hugged LouLou. “We all love you. I've never been one for pedigrees. Liz doesn't even care about horse pedigrees. Your cousins, I'm sure, will take the news in stride.”
LouLou smiled. “If they can accept the fact that cousin LouLou has schizophrenia and could be off on a psychotic episode if she doesn't take her meds, I don't think knowing I'm adopted will register.”
Collin looked off in the distance towards the house. “I must admit, we did become more vigilant about looking for signs of illness in them after you were diagnosed. Genetics was said to be a component of the disease.”
“It's supposed to be, but Deirdre told me that her aunt had schizophrenia and her dad, my paternal grandfather, had what now seems to her to be clinical depression or even bi-polar episodes. She seemed depressed to me when she was here after Dad died. I know I'm not genetically related to her, but I thought it was interesting that mental illness wasn't a stranger to the family.”
Collin looked thoughtful. “I can't think of anyone in our family who had a diagnosis. Your mother and I come from a long line of eccentrics and alcoholics, but that could just be code for mental illness.” He seemed to think about that for a bit and then snapped back with rapid-fire questions.
“Tell me how you are. Other than this scare. Really.”
“Good. I'm strict about taking my meds, seeing my new psychiatrist, and recording new music. It's nice not to have to prepare for a tour. I have more time to create. I'm preparing for a November recital at the Terrace Theatre. I miss Dad, but I cherish my memories. He's not far.”
“Why do you have a new psychiatrist?” Collin slowed his stride to match hers.
“Dr. Youzny classified my reaction to the news I was adopted as aberrant because I didn't care. I wasn't angry or hurt or betrayed. I thought he had less interest in treating me than using me as a case study for a journal article or presentation.”
“Your instincts are good, LouLou. You spot BS quickly.”
“Uncle Collin, I've spent half my life with psychiatrists and people with mental illnesses. I had to develop a BS radar to survive.”
“A shame. Truly.” LouLou could almost see him switching gears. “How's your business? Accounting, in particular. Still using that firm started by two young women?”
“Yes. Everything is in order.”
“Must say you did a ballsy thing in refusing the trust money. That sum would turn many heads.”
“I'm not impressed by the amount. It could have been one-hundred million or ten dollars. My answer would have been the same. I felt like Bella was trying to control me from the grave.”
“Again, good instincts.” He stopped to pick up a branch that had fallen on the dirt path. “LouLou, in my opinion, it's time for you to change lawyers. Brooks is out of his league with music contracts, royalties, and blurred producer/artist/songwriter credits these days.
“There's a boutique firm in New York that's just right for you. Sharp woman in her thirties. Worked in different aspects of the business. Well-respected. You should transfer your business there. By next Wednesday.” He handed her a small piece of paper from a notepad. “Her name and number. No reason to dirty the waters with Brooks. You're free to change attorneys any time. He was fine when you were younger and working as a local DJ. The offers you're getting now need a more experienced hand, someone who knows the players. “
LouLou deciphered Uncle Collin's words. Hire the new attorney as the next step in expanding her business. Do it fast before telling Brooks. Make sure she was no longer on his client roster by Wednesday. Something unpleasant was going to happen to Brooks because he or his colleague had failed to spot the obvious possibility of Dan Ramsay as a suspect in his liaison with the murder investigators. The DNA connection was plain.
“I suspect Dr. Youzny won't be practicing much longer. Medical malpractice insurance premiums have increased to the point that doctors choose retirement over continued practice of medicine. Dr. Youzny's insurer is one of the most cautious.”
No tears for him. He'd helped LouLou through dark periods, but he turned on her when he had the opportunity for self-aggrandizement. She needed to check herself. She was becoming as vengeful as Collin.
“Any news on that horrid woman who blackmailed Mom and Dad about my adoption?”
“Nothing,” Collin said. “No one other than you and the man who usually walked with you saw her. Your descriptions match. It's as though she vanished.”
CHAPTER
FIFTY-EIGHT
June
“Vegetarian lasagna, arugula salad, and sautéed spinach.” Roy presented the boxed meal to LouLou in her loft. “Where's your luggage?”
LouLou held up her tote. “I went without notice. I
borrowed clothes. It's not like I needed anything more than pants and tee shirts. I missed you and Sara. How are you? Have the kids worn you down yet about a cruise?”
“Sara did. She convinced me our lives would be easier without the battle. The kids can do something called age appropriate activities, Sara can spend time reading on deck, and I can dine in ports. We're going to the western Mediterranean in late August. I'll make sure you're supplied with plenty of meals.”
“Roy, don't worry about me. I can cook, you know. It just isn't very tasty. You're the spice king.”
“I read where that guy in the sketch you gave me was arrested for stalking you,” he said with trepidation. He was always sensitive to her feelings.
LouLou nodded. She didn't want to think, much less talk, about it.
“Ah, LouLou. What a siege you've had.”
“It's over. Thanks for keeping a lookout for him. Now I plan to do nothing for the rest of the summer.”
Roy hugged her and left. LouLou counted ten beats before Gregg threw his arms around her and kissed her. “Hate to be an eavesdropper, but it saves you from rehashing the trip.”
“Being invisible has its perks,” she said as she buried her face in his chest.
He held her and kissed her hair. When he stepped back, he appraised her and asked, “Are you well?”
“Yes. With Dan Ramsay at Petersburg, I'm safe.”
Gregg kissed her again and held her close. She put her head on his chest so she could feel his heart beat. “I thought of what you said to me before I left Dr. Baldwin's office, that you didn't want Dan or Bella to take me away from you. It gave me courage every day. I don't want to let anything come between us.”
“You're brave, LouLou. You've survived a lot,” he said.
She kissed him. “By the way, do you know anything about horse ghosts?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“My aunt and uncle keep a stall vacant in case a ghost horse needs it. My aunt says it's been used at least twice.”
“That's good. Your family is hospitable to ghosts. Nice to feel welcome.”
***
LouLou dutifully ate the meal Roy had provided. “This is really good. I had breakfast and a quick lunch. I didn't realize how hungry I was.”
She finished, washed her plate, and grabbed an apple for dessert. She stretched and sat on the striped sofa.
“Are you really going to take the rest of the summer off?” Gregg asked.
“Absolutely. I'll practice to be ready for the recital. Beyond that, I'm not taking any gigs. We have from now until the end of October to relax. What do you want to do?”
“Anything. Everything.”
“We'll go to the park, outdoor concerts, the symphony's July fourth concert with fireworks. There's baseball. The Richmond Flying Squirrels. They're the minor league team for the San Francisco Giants.”
“The Flying Squirrels? They don't sound like a team to be feared.” Gregg laughed. “I like baseball, so I'd love to do that no matter how bad they are.”
“Movies. There are always movies,” LouLou said. “We could do double features. What else would you like to do? What have you missed?”
“An amusement park, if we skip the roller coasters. I'm afraid that might do me in. There are other rides, aren't there?”
“I don't know. I've never been to an amusement park. I think there's one a little north of here and one south, near Williamsburg.” She thought more. “Oh, and swimming. There are some private swim clubs with outdoor pools that don't require your genealogy to become a member.”
“I like swimming, but I'll cause ripples in the water.”
“Not if you're any good.” LouLou winked.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-NINE
October
Bella was thrilled with her plan to deny LouLou love. She'd stage a scene so wondrous it would become a shrine. People from all over the world would make pilgrimages to see where an angel held the baby Jesus in her arms on the day after Christmas. The stunt required nothing of her except to acquire costumes.
The weeks before Halloween were the best time for that. Even so, the color assortment of adult-size angel or fairy wings wasn't the best. Lots of pinks, blues, and whites. Gold or red feathered wings were hard to find. At the fourth costume shop she perused, there was a perfect pair of metallic gold wings made from rows and rows of feathers that created a cascading effect. They weren't as wide as she needed, but a ten-foot wingspan could work, especially once they were raised to imitate flying. A golden halo fit for a queen was also a solid choice.
A red XXL satin choir robe was just a Baptist church away. The other denominations were less colorful. Most church choristers wore a combination of black and white, even during the holiday season.
A long trumpet prop wasn't too hard to find at one of those Christmas-is-365-days-a-year shops, but they all were flimsy and obviously fake. A wooden recurve bow would be better—traditional, ornate, and Flemish. She'd have to make a trip to a specialty archery store because most sporting goods stores carried pricey junk in flashy colors. Only a serious archer would have a recurve bow.
One brown wig with long curly ringlets later, Bella had completed ninety-nine percent of her shopping. She'd rented a keyless entry storage unit because she had no place to hide anything. The few remaining items could wait until the last minute. Her to-buy list included a brown-haired baby doll that cried and a blue blanket.
CHAPTER SIXTY
LouLou and Gregg solved their PDA problem by walking arm in arm when they walked together. She kept her arm close to her body so she wouldn't look like she was holding her arm away from her body at an abnormal distance, no matter how slight. The feel of Gregg sent signals of love and courage throughout her body.
“Got the shipment,” Skylar said when LouLou and Gregg arrived at Vinyl. “Two perfect CDs of LouLou Fleming playing the lost compositions of Gregg Waites, Parts One and Two. Gregg, you're a musical genius and LouLou, your playing is awesome. Not bad for a DJ who says she never practices serious music.”
LouLou bowed and motioned to Gregg to do the same.
“They look great, too, don't they? Straightforward covers without any old-fashioned watercolors of nineteenth century English castles.” LouLou had been fierce with the producer about the cover.
“You're a knock-out. The photographer got a full headshot and the lid of the piano. Looks great.”
“I hope you can keep up with the orders. They're available by download, but I think CDs will sell too. They'll be on sale at the recital.”
“You're selling CDs at the recital?” Gregg's eyes registered his surprise. “Isn't that kind of crass?”
“Of course it is, but it's standard procedure now for any kind of concert. Classical. Rock. Rap. My DJ stuff is going to be all downloaded from now on. No CDs. My audience has lost patience with actually having to pick up a CD, hand it to a cashier, and wait for the sale to be authorized.”
“Blasphemy. Don't talk like that in front of my vinyl children.”
“Sorry, Skylar. I love hard copy, too, but I have to make a living.”
“How are ticket sales?” he asked.
“Sold out.”
“You're a star,” Gregg said. She hadn't told him about the sales.
“No, the theatre only has a five hundred-seat capacity. It's not too hard to fill. I'm sure most of the sales are to Kennedy Center patrons. The concert hall at Georgetown University is only two hundred and fifty seats. That will be filled with musicologists, if no one else. Anytime a new composer is discovered, they all want to pretend they heard him first.”
“Watch it, LouLou. Your inner snob is showing.”
“Can't help it, Skylar. I just don't think music and academia are a good match. I think conservatories are the only place to study performance. Everything else is music history. Makes the ones who are accepted at Juilliard true artists.” She winked at Gregg, who looked down at his feet.
“Do we know anyone who
went there?” Skylar asked. He was absent-mindedly rubbing Robert's head.
“Didn't you read the liner notes? Mr. Waites, a student at The Juilliard School of Music, blah blah blah.”
“No, I didn't. I didn't have my glasses. Gregg, you went to Juilliard? Aren't you a modest one.”
“Well, I actually….”
LouLou interrupted. “The point is, the man knows his stuff. When are you driving up, Skylar?”
“I don't know yet. It's weeks away. I assume I'll be chauffeuring the composer?” He looked at Gregg.
“If you don't mind.”
“It's an honor. We'll work it out. What about you, LouLou?”
“I'm going that Wednesday and staying in a hotel. Mom might join me. I'll do the recital at one o'clock on Friday afternoon at Georgetown and then the recital on Sunday afternoon at four.”
“I meant to ask you. Four o'clock on a Sunday afternoon seems an odd time for a recital,” Gregg said.
“The absolute only time for one according to the great pianist Vladimir Horowitz. He said his mind was at its best then and audiences were more content, alert, and relaxed. He thought concerts that started at eight o'clock on a weeknight were futile. Having worked all day, the last thing people wanted to do was listen closely. He thought most were asleep.”
“Don't listen to Horowitz or her, Gregg. No one will sleep through this music no matter what time it's played. It's fantastic,” Skylar declared. “By the way, I've sent some promo copies out to people who'll spread the word.”
“Thanks, Skylar. That's really nice.” Gregg seemed uncomfortable with adulation and the willingness of people to promote him.
“Oh, complete self-interest, young man. I want to sell lots of CDs.”
LouLou leaned over the counter and kissed Skylar on the cheek, gave Robert a few extra kisses, and took Gregg's hand. “We're off to the movies. Later.”