The families who worked the fields of Bonner Farm kept the proceeds for themselves, but in return gave daily care—feeding, exercising, grooming, cleaning the stalls—to the three horses in Alexandra's stable. They also maintained the access road and riding trails, plowed the driveway in the winter, in summer allowed Alexandra to pick fresh vegetables and fruits and gave her a year-round pass to the dairy down the road where she could pick up dairy products made from the milk of the cows and goats that grazed on her land.
Still, as a financial investment, the farm was a fiasco. Fortunately for the community, Alexandra was in a financial position that meant she could afford the losses. The area was swarming with developers dying to get their hands on any part of her land, but Alexandra was going to do her best, at least in her lifetime, to preserve the tract. It wasn't a case of not wanting people to have a nice place to live, it was a case of her wanting northern New Jersey to rehab the masses of existing housing they had already abandoned for easier schemes. The state, too, was not particularly thrilled with the prospect of seeing Bonner Farm falling anytime soon; they didn't want to see condos thrown up there, with sewage leakage spilling into the park reserve and bulldozers tearing down the trees and eroding the banks of an already fragile flood zone.
No, the developers were going to have to take Alexandra off Bonner Farm feet first, and until that time, she seemed quite content to spend whatever fortune it would take to preserve this little part of God's green earth in the New York City metropolitan area.
Jessica had been at the farm since day one. In fact, she had seen it before Alexandra had, doing her friend a favor by scouting it out while Alexandra had been covering a presidential visit to Helsinki. And then there had been all the time she'd spent there, helping Alexandra paint and wallpaper in the earliest days (which happened to be, not coincidentally, the days when Jessica had desperately needed something to do on weekends to keep her out of trouble).
Jessica had spent so much time there, in fact, that when Alexandra renovated the house, the anchorwoman had added a one-bedroom suite on the far side expressly for Jessica. It had a full bath, kitchenette and a small sitting room. In return, Jessica had insisted on paying the bill for a gorgeously large and beautifully landscaped pool in the back. If the truth be known, Alexandra was not much of a swimmer, and so it was not a big surprise who used the pool the most.
At any rate, when Alexandra had fallen in love a few years before—in a match engineered by Jessica—and the anchorwoman no longer slept alone at the farm, Jessica had known that Alexandra had meant it when she'd said nothing should change, that there was plenty of privacy in the house and Jessica's rooms were always waiting for her.
The access road to Bonner Farm was three-quarters of a mile long. It bounced past split-rail fences holding in cattle, past bean and strawberry fields already in full offering, past apple and pear and plum orchards, and past the fields that would bear sweet corn and cattle corn, clover, tomatoes, cucumbers, cau1iflower, snow peas, eggplant, acorn and butternut squash, cantaloupes and pumpkins. And then suddenly the drive swung into a wood of tall oaks, and when the car emerged on the other side, the house magically appeared in full view, there on the rise, with the lush green lawn spreading down below it. In the daytime, one could see, down behind the house, the barn, the stable, the potting shed and other outbuildings.
It seemed that just about every light of the big old farmhouse was on tonight. The car drove up and around the circular driveway and stopped at the stairs of the massive front porch. Slim, in the Crown Victoria, pulled up behind them. Alexandra's studio driver popped the trunk and brought their bags up onto the porch. Wendy left them, to show Slim to his quarters in the bam. Alexandra unlocked the front door, thanked the driver and then went inside to turn off the alarm.
They brought their bags in. The house was quiet. But then Alexandra spotted another suitcase at the foot of the stairs and she was up to the second floor in a shot.
Jessica smiled, carrying her bag and taking the stairs at a much slower pace. She went down the opposite end of the hall to her room and tossed the bag on the bed. Wendy, she assumed, would be taking the guest room next door. Jessica went to the window and watched Wendy and Slim go into the bam. She frowned slightly and drew the drapes closed. Somehow it wasn't going to be quite the same relaxing weekend knowing they would be watching her. Or that so many people felt the need for the bodyguards to do so.
She was more concerned than they knew. She didn't like living this way.
She also absolutely hated the thought that some wacko stranger could penetrate her life and alter not only her routine, but her very peace of mind.
Well, she would try to relax. The security at Bonner Farm was elaborate. "Jessica," came a sleepy voice from the doorway. "I wanted to say hello."
Jessica turned around. And smiled. There, standing in the doorway, with one arm draped around Alexandra and the other reaching out to her, was Jessica's old friend and the love of Alexandra Waring's life.
The actress Georgiana Hamilton-Ayres.
7
Lured by the smell of bacon cooking and coffee percolating on Saturday morning, Jessica went downstairs, confident that Alexandra had made the successful transition from health-conscious overworked city slicker to farm girl who served great breakfasts. Her hostess was dressed in a short-sleeved polo shirt, skintight denim jodhpurs and socks. There were telltale smudges of mud on her thighs, confirming that she'd been up and out riding already.
Happily, upon further investigation, Jessica could see that Alexandra was not only making eggs and bacon this morning, but homemade biscuits and white gravy—a meal that contained about ten zillion grams of fat and cholesterol.
"Oh my," Jessica told her friend, yawning. "You've gone completely mad I see."
Alexandra glanced over to smile and Jessica spotted that wondrous glow in her friend's cheeks that came only from one thing. Making love.
"Better enjoy it," Alexandra told her, ''because tomorrow it's back to cereal and skim milk." She glanced at Jessica's robe and looked vaguely distressed. "You're not getting dressed? It's almost eleven."
"You mean in my 'dress nicely' clothes?" Jessica asked, snatching a piece of bacon from the bed of paper towels it was on.
"I told you, I have a surprise for you." She looked at her watch. "Which is arriving very soon."
"I'm up for any surprise," Jessica said, coyly turning her back on Alexandra so her friend could not see her face, “as long as it has nothing to do with Will Rafferty." She moved toward the large oak table. "I know he's your friend and everything, but 1 had a horrendous argument with him yesterday and I think he's a complete jerk." Keeping a straight face, she sat down at the table and reached for the newspaper.
Finally Alexandra spoke. "You had an argument?"
"I told him to go to hell," Jessica said, scanning the front page of the Times. She hazarded a peek. Alexandra was stirring the gravy in an iron skillet, frowning, looking very disturbed indeed.
"As I say, I know you're tight friends and everything," Jessica continued, "and I respect that. Just don't make me ever have to see him again if you can avoid it."
Oh, this was mean. She could see the panic rising in her friend.
"Jessica," Alexandra said, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself. "I really thought you and Will were hitting it off."
"Yeah, well, about the only thing I want to hit off is his conceited head." The expression on Alexandra's face at this comment told Jessica she could not go on with the charade. "Oh, Alexandra Eyes," she cried, jumping up. "I'm pulling your leg! Will called me the other night about the cabin and I just wanted to make you sweat a little."
"You didn't have a fight with him?"
"Fight with him?" Jessica said, approaching her. "The only fighting I'm doing is fighting to maintain control of myself." She drew up next to her friend and lowered her voice in genuine awe. "He's wonderful. Absolutely wonderful."
Alexandra smiled, visib
ly relieved. And then she frowned again, elbowing Jessica in the side. "Rotten kid. I believed you."
There was a sprightly knock on the door.
"Speak of the devil," Alexandra said. "Let him in, will you, please?"
Will was smiling and waving through the door window. Jessica let him in and there was a lot of laughter in the kitchen as Jessica brought him up to speed on what had just transpired.
"And see how I dressed up for you'?" she asked, modeling her unbrushed hair and massive terry-cloth robe.
"You look great." He pulled a chair out at the table for Jessica, and he sat down in the one next to her.
"So," she began, reaching for the pitcher of orange juice and pouring him a glass, "you guys are prepared to work together all week and then see each other every weekend?"
"We're just seeing each other today because you're here," Will explained.
It really was a disgrace, what Jessica felt between her legs in that moment. If she ever fully remembered what had happened between her and Will that night in the studio so long ago, perhaps the answer would be clear as to why and how he could have such a dramatic physical effect on her now.
What she did remember was seeing him at a party at West End that night and flirting with him, and feeling increasingly excited by his attention. When she had crossed that line—that drinking line where suddenly she cared about nothing but feeling alive, and then acting out in order to do so—she had casually sauntered over to him and said, "Why don't you come and see my studio sometime?"
At that point, the DBS news operation had been built in Studio A, but Studio B was barely beyond the planning stages. When Will accepted her invitation by saying, "Why not now?" they had slipped out of the party and into what could best be described as a massive indoor construction site.
They had barely closed the studio doors behind them when they had fallen into each other's arms and started making out.
It had been great. She remembered that much. How fantastic a kisser he was, how attractive and strong and sure of himself as a lover. There had been warnings flashing across her mind at the time—"Not with someone from DBS!"—but Will was not just anyone, this guy was it. He was not married, he was immensely attractive, and she wanted so badly to—
She remembered moving to a dark comer, working their way toward a storage room. She remembered his hands on her breasts, his mouth on her neck; she remembered lying down, feeling his excitement pressing into her thigh, the sound of his belt buckle being undone.
And then she remembered suddenly arguing with Will, and how upset he was, saying something about it not being right, she was too drunk.
The last part of this memory she had tried not to think about. The first part she had thought about many, many times over the years in the form of a most pleasant sexual fantasy, and it was that, she finally decided, that her body was responding to.
"And where might be the lovely Lady Hamilton-Ayres?" Will asked Alexandra.
"Still in bed," Alexandra reported. She came over to place a platter of bacon and scrambled eggs on the table and a basket of biscuits wrapped in a linen napkin. "They've been shooting at night all week, so her internal clock's all messed up."
Georgiana was finishing a movie in Canada. She and Jessica had first met several years ago out West, when the actress had appeared on "The Jessica Wright Show" to promote a film. At the time, Georgiana had been married and her life was just about as messy as Jessica's had been and so the two had hit it off and become friends. As the years had bumped along, Jessica had heard rumors about Georgiana and a lesbian affair, and then a few years later, after Georgiana had divorced her husband, she had come right out and told Jessica she wasn't really sure what she was anymore, straight or gay or bisexual.
"As I understand it," Jessica had told the actress at the time, "the term bisexual simply means you're unable to have a committed relationship with anyone."
"You've been watching your own show too much," Georgiana had scoffed, clearly irritated. "You don't understand."
"Okay, I don't understand." And in that moment Jessica had been reminded very much of someone else in her life who happened to be her very best friend. Good old Alexandra Eyes, who seemed to have made a lifetime habit of getting engaged and then breaking it off to have an affair with a woman. Not that it had happened that many times, really only twice. But that was enough, wasn't it, for even Alexandra to know that she was not, perhaps, the best candidate for marriage?
And the last engagement Alexandra had broken off had not only been wise but kind; the man had gone on to marry someone else who loved him totally. As for Alexandra, she had rather listlessly dated men after that, and Jessica had often wondered if she did it only for the sake of her career.
And so Jessica had then engineered a party at which she had very nearly thrown Georgiana Hamilton-Ayres into Alexandra's lap. Although Georgiana divided her time between L.A. and New York, the women had essentially been together ever since.
"So is your security entourage out here?" Will asked Jessica.
"I haven't seen either one of them this morning."
"You're not supposed to see me," Wendy's voice said from behind the swinging door leading into the dining room.
Silence.
And then Jessica, Will and Alexandra broke up into laughter. "She's in there?" Jessica finally said.
"Come and get it, Wendy," Alexandra called, placing a bowl of steaming white gravy on the table. "Breakfast is served."
As the four settled in to eat, and Jessica tasted her eggs, she looked at Will and smiled. "Are these the good old days or what?"
It was an incredibly gorgeous day. The air was unseasonably cool but the sun shone bright and the sky was so clear that Jessica knew her freckles would be coming out this day. She and Will walked by themselves to see his cabin, and halfway there they rather naturally joined hands and fell into step.
Years ago the cabin had been a hunting lodge. It was a rough saw-board dwelling, now with a nice cedar shingle roof. The cabin's best feature was a covered porch that wrapped around three sides. There were a couple of rocking chairs outside and a pond nearby, which Alexandra claimed had largemouth bass in it. Inside, the cabin had one open room, paneled in cedar, with a big stone fireplace at one end and a kitchenette and closet of a bathroom at the other. There was a couch, chairs and coffee table, a comfy double bed in the corner, and a table and four chairs by the kitchenette.
"There's a little loft up there," he said, pointing up into the eaves. "I was thinking about bringing my sister's kids out. They'd love to sleep up there."
"How old are they?"
"Seven and nine."
"Nice ages," Jessica murmured, admiring the large braided rug in front of the fireplace.
"Are you cold, Jessica? I can light a fire."
"No, I'm fine. Thank you." She looked around. "No TV?"
"Well..." He walked over to the bed, reached under, groped around a bit and came back up holding a mini-TV.
"We never quite get away from it, do we?" she mused, walking to stand in front of the largest window, looking out at the new growth on the trees.
"I think it might get pretty buggy around here later in the season," Will said, coming over to stand next to her, "but Alexandra had all the screens replaced."
"Is there even electricity out here?" Jessica asked, peering around. "Oh, right. You have the TV. When did the electricity get hooked up?"
"A month ago." She looked at him. "'Alexandra knew you were coming a month ago?"
He laughed. "Who ever knows what she knows or doesn't know?"
Jessica smiled, moving across the room. "Mind if I peek at your bathroom?"
"Sure."
She poked her head in. A small, square bathroom, wood-paneled, with a proper john and sink and shower. Nice for an outdoorsy kind of guy. She herself thought any place without a bathtub utterly intolerable, but guys usually preferred showers anyway.
"My dad and his brothers had a place like this when I
was a kid," Will said when she came back out.
Her ears perked up. Will had never spoken of his father before. And instinctively she had known not to ask about him.
"They built it themselves on some land their grandfather gave them in upstate Connecticut," he said, walking over to run his hand over the mantelpiece. "They were young and single. They used it as a fishing lodge. Later, when they had families, they'd sneak off to—" He turned around, resting his arm on the mantel. "I don't know, be a man or something, I guess."
"Did you go there with your father?"
"Once." The way he said this did not inspire Jessica to ask for details. Will absently touched his chin and then dropped his hand. "I think I told you about my father being a pretty mean alcoholic."
“Actually, no," she said softly.
He hitched up one side of his mouth and squinted, as if glaring into the sun. "Oh."
"You did tell me once," Jessica offered, "that some drunk guy broke your elbow."
"Oh, right. I knew I had said something," Will said, nodding, pushing off the mantel. "That was Dad. I guess I just didn't mention which drunk guy it was." He laughed nervously. "We've had quite a few in our family line."
"That's pretty rough."
He shrugged. "It was worse for my younger brother. But then Mom finally threw my father out, so he got back on track." He toed the rug with the end of his Bean Brother boot. "For whatever reasons, he left my sisters alone—well, you know what I mean. So that was good."
She felt awkward standing there, but it didn't seem appropriate to sit. "Is he still around? Your father?"
"Uh, he's still alive. Somewhere. He was sober for a while, but then he started drinking again, who knows why." He looked at her. "Do you think I should go to Al Anon or something? I mean, isn't that what people are supposed to do if they're interested in someone who's—you know—"
Talk (The Alexandra Chronicles Book 4) Page 7