Note of Peril

by Hannah Alexander

She turned to her date and placed a hand on his arm. “Blake, I guess you know Grace probably won’t be supplying any alcohol for this party, and I’ve been craving a frozen strawberry daiquiri for weeks. Want to get me one from the bar in the Library Lounge?”

  Blake scowled at her. “It’s illegal to provide alcohol to minors, and if I remember right, you just turned twenty a couple of months ago.”

  She pouted and ostentatiously batted her eyes at him. “Please? Just one?”

  “Promise you’ll stop at one?”

  “Have you ever seen me drunk?” She grinned up at him with a smile of innocence. “I just want to get away with something, okay? That little ol’ thing won’t even give me a buzz.”

  Blake shrugged. Michael shook his head. After all this time, hadn’t Delight discovered that Blake was a teetotaler? Michael felt sorry for him. He obviously adored the young woman, who could have passed for a daughter of Heather Locklear. To Delight’s credit, she probably didn’t realize the depth of Blake’s devotion. Most men responded to her appearance and charm with that overeager, puppy-dog expression.

  When Blake excused himself from the table, Delight scooted her chair closer to Michael’s.

  He glanced longingly toward Grace.

  “I need to talk to you about somethin’,” Delight said, her Southern drawl more evident than usual.

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  She glanced down the length of the table. Grace, as usual, was surrounded by people who all seemed to be seeking her attention at once.

  For a moment she seemed to grow aware of Michael’s and Delight’s interest. She glanced toward them, and he thought he saw a tender wistfulness in her eyes. For that one moment he couldn’t look away.

  Then the headwaiter approached Grace, and the moment vanished.

  The cinnamon scent of Delight’s breath wafted past him as she leaned closer. “How well do you know Mitzi?”

  Michael raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

  “Well, if you’re still trying to figure out who spilled the beans to Jolene about that awful meeting with Henry, Mitzi’s got my vote.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Don’t you think she might’ve resented Grace just a little for getting her in trouble with Henry? I mean, he did threaten to fire her because Grace didn’t wear the outfit Mitzi set out for her.”

  “Everyone knew that was a bluff.”

  Delight shook her head. “That’s not all. Mitzi’s always moving around between the wardrobe and the dressing rooms. She could pick up a lot of confidential information. Kind of makes me wonder if she and Jolene might be friends.”

  Just then Cassidy Ryder entered the room wearing a Western-cut, silver-studded black tuxedo with black cowboy boots and a bolo tie.

  “Oh, brother, would you look at that peacock,” Delight muttered.

  Michael watched Cassidy make his way to the central section of the table. Like Delight, Cassidy had major ambitions, and he was talented. But his was a new name in Branson, and he made it clear to anyone who would listen that he didn’t think he should have to pay his dues the way other musicians did.

  Unfortunately for him, every move he made and every song he sang telegraphed his high opinion of himself. Michael had attempted to warn him gently about his stage presence. Dumb idea. Cassidy was in for a rude awakening.

  Once again Michael glanced toward Grace, to find her watching him.

  The chatter around Grace seemed to blend into one long, pointless monologue as she tried hard not to watch Michael and Delight with their heads together at the far end of the table.

  Why had it taken her so long to realize how much Michael’s friendship meant to her? She didn’t want that friendship to change…and yet it already had.

  She’d half expected to see some stupid article by Jolene about their “lovers’ quarrel,” but the reporter had shifted her attention toward other entertainers the past two weeks, mercifully ignoring the Star Notes cast.

  Sherilyn leaned close to Grace’s left ear. “Did we enter another dimension when we stepped through that door?”

  Grace frowned at her.

  “I mean what’s with you and Michael, and why is he cuddled up to Delight down there?”

  “He’s not cuddled up with—”

  “You want me to scoot so he can sit by you?”

  “No, I don’t want you to scoot.” Grace failed to keep the sharpness from her tone. “Michael can sit where he pleases.”

  Mitzi leaned across the table. “Didn’t you hear, Sherilyn? Grace and Michael are in the middle of a cold war.”

  Grace resisted a prickle of irritation. “There’s no war.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I wish they’d patch things up,” Ladonna said. “It’s affecting the whole mood of the show.”

  “I’m not the one affecting the mood of the show,” Grace snapped.

  “Hey,” Mitzi said, “it’s party night. We can argue about work later.”

  Grace took a deep breath and grimaced. “Sorry.” What was wrong with her tonight?

  “What else is up with Star Notes?” Sherilyn asked.

  “Same old thing,” Ladonna said. “Denton’s still pushing for changes. He thinks he knows what’s best, and we’ve pulled out the contract and discovered the wording isn’t specific enough to deal with this situation. Who’d have predicted Henry would drop dead of a heart attack?”

  “So in other words, you’re telling me you don’t have a boss right now?” Sherilyn asked.

  “We haven’t had a partnership meeting yet to vote for a new general partner or a new director,” Ladonna said. “Henry was both. Denton obviously wants more control.”

  “Oh, my goodness, would you look at this,” Mitzi hissed.

  Peter entered the room wearing a three-piece pinstriped suit, hair neatly combed. A stunning woman with perfectly coiffed blond hair held his arm. She wore a shimmery floor-length gown the color of cedar berries.

  Sherilyn gasped. “Where on earth did Peter snag a date like that?”

  “I don’t believe it,” Ladonna said. “I know that woman. That’s his mother!”

  Mitzi giggled. “His girlfriend broke up with him last week.” She glanced at Grace. “Seems to be something in the air.”

  Grace scowled at her as more guests arrived and filled all but two of the remaining seats at the table. Denton Mapes arrived last, with none other than Jolene Tucker on his arm.

  The room fell silent.

  Jolene wore a shimmery silver gown that hugged every inch of her painfully slender body. Her black hair framed her long, narrow face in curls that softened her angular features.

  Denton and his date took the only seats left, across from Cassidy Ryder. The awkwardness intensified until Jolene glanced around the table and greeted everyone.

  “Don’t worry, I left my recorder and notebook home tonight,” she announced, apparently not the least bit intimidated by the cool reception.

  Chatter at the table slowly returned to normal.

  The waiters delivered crusty rolls, shaped by hand, in wire baskets, with swan-shaped butter centerpieces in each basket.

  Sherilyn gave Grace a warning look and handed the nearest basket to Mitzi. “Keep that out of Grace’s reach. She’s lost twelve pounds in two weeks, and I want her to lose twelve more. Doesn’t she look great?”

  “She looks wonderful,” Ladonna said, “but she always does. Don’t get too carried away with this weight-loss stuff, okay, Grace? After a certain age a woman needs a few extra pounds to keep the wrinkles from becoming too obvious.”

  “Thanks,” Grace said dryly. She glanced toward Michael’s end of the table to see Blake handing Delight a glass with a frozen drink, obviously from the Library Lounge, complete with whipped cream and a chocolate-dipped strawberry on top.

  Delight was being treated to an alcohol-free frozen strawberry daiquiri, Grace gathered, from the look of her disappointment when she tasted it.

  Grace took a sip of her Perrier a
nd focused on not staring at Michael like a lovelorn schoolgirl.

  “Hey, Grace!” Peter called down the length of the table, loudly enough to be heard in the main dining room. “What’s this I hear about you getting a major recording contract from Nashville?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The chatter subsided, and Michael turned his full attention to Grace, feeling guilty that he found himself enjoying her discomfiture. In spite of her protestations of trust, she had proven that she didn’t trust him after all, when she’d been unwilling to confide in him about the contract two weeks ago.

  “Does that mean you’re leaving the show?” Delight asked. “Can I have your dressing room?”

  Mitzi and Ladonna glared at her.

  Delight held her hands out to her sides. “It was a joke. You people don’t have any sense of humor. I think it’s about time some of your writing hit the big time, Grace.”

  Grace shot Delight a warm grin. “I haven’t signed any contracts, and no, you can’t have my dressing room.”

  Sherilyn held up a hand. “Yet. She hasn’t signed yet, but there’s a good one waiting for her if she’ll make up her mind.”

  Grace gave her agent a pointed glare.

  Sherilyn shrugged. “Best to get it all out in the open. And there’s no way you’d have to quit the show. Not unless your concert tour interfered with the schedule at the theater.”

  “Concert tour,” Cassidy muttered quietly so that his voice didn’t carry to the far end of the table. “Why the big secret in the first place?”

  “Because it’s nobody’s business,” Delight said. “I sure wouldn’t tell you bozos about any offers I had. You might blab it to the wrong person, just the way—” She broke off and glanced at Jolene, then looked down at her plate.

  Michael could almost feel the mob mentality take over at the table as Jolene became the focus of attention. Why had Denton brought that troublemaking reporter here?

  Jolene’s laughter lilted down the table. “Any Branson musician would love that kind of ‘blabbing.’ Admit it, Ladonna, you’ve sold more tickets in the past few weeks than you sold in the past two years, and this isn’t even high season.”

  “I don’t think we’re willing to pay that high a price to sell more tickets,” Ladonna snapped. “I’d just like to know your source.”

  “Sorry.” Jolene retained her expression of casual amusement. “That’s classified. All the publicity’s just kicking up the numbers in Grace’s fan club, like I’ve been trying to tell you people all along, but you won’t listen to me.”

  “Our fan club,” Grace corrected. “They come to see and hear all of us, not just me.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Peter said. “Quit the show and see how many encores we’ll be doing. Are you sure you aren’t leaking that stuff to Jolene yourself, just to boost the ratings?”

  His mother gently nudged his arm.

  Michael couldn’t help admiring Grace’s composure as the razzing continued. He caught her gaze, and she smiled and shook her head.

  “I’d like a few of Grace’s breaks,” Rachel murmured.

  “She manufactures her own breaks,” Cassidy said.

  “If she made this break, why hasn’t she already taken it?” Blake asked.

  “If Grace isn’t interested in a contract, I wish she’d steer it my way,” Delight told Phoebe softly across the table.

  Phoebe rolled her eyes. “They’re talking about a recording contract, silly, not a contract to see how many body parts you can expose without getting arrested.”

  Rachel giggled, Delight blushed and Michael tried not to smile. The rest of the guests turned their attention to the meal as the first of the appetizers arrived.

  In spite of all the explanations, Michael continued to feel a frisson of disappointment at Grace’s unwillingness to confide in him.

  A cell phone chirped, and Grace watched as Jolene pulled a titanium phone from her clutch purse and excused herself from the table.

  Mitzi leaned toward Grace. “What do you want to bet she rang herself so she could escape the table and call in an exclusive report?”

  “Calm down.” Ladonna leaned forward and lowered her voice, glancing at Denton. “I’d never admit this to Jolene, of course, but ticket sales don’t lie. She’s right about the increased publicity. And you know how much I hate to admit she’s right about anything.”

  Another cell phone shot its signal through the room, and Grace thought of her dad. She should call him.

  Even more important, she needed to forgive him.

  She knew what it meant to be in need of forgiveness. She needed Michael to forgive her. How could she expect something from him that she herself couldn’t give?

  How would she feel if Michael never forgave her?

  She watched Michael as he carried on polite conversation with Delight and Blake, then laughed at something Rachel said.

  Grace thought about her father again. The more she thought abut it, the more she was becoming convinced that her relationship phobias had nothing to do with publicity, and everything to do with her father.

  As the waiters took dessert orders, Grace tried to give herself over to the sheer beauty of the sky as it turned deepest purple against the silhouette of tree-lined hills in the distance. But her mind continued to return to her father.

  All the emotions she’d kept stuffed inside for fourteen years threatened to overwhelm her. In her heart, she’d been afraid that might happen if she opened herself to romantic love. After all, the only close relationship she’d had with a man had ended in destruction.

  She remembered tender moments with her dad, like the days he’d picked her up after school and taken her to ride the ponies at a local park, or when he’d accompanied her and three other giggling seven-year-olds to the beach.

  Unfortunately, other memories eclipsed the good ones, like the one-way screaming matches behind closed doors, the sound of slapping and her mom’s cries of pain.

  As a well-known chef and part owner of one of the most exclusive restaurants in Ventura, California, Tyrel Babcock had given his family a good life once upon a time. They’d lived in a gated community on a hillside overlooking the ocean. But then his partner had embezzled funds and they lost the business. Dad couldn’t find another job that paid enough for him to make house payments, and they’d been forced to move to a much smaller place. That was when Grace’s father had changed.

  From Grace’s twelfth birthday until the day she and her mom left to come back to Missouri, now Brennans instead of Babcocks, she remembered so few good times with either of her parents. Her mom forgot how to smile, and she warned Grace repeatedly about losing herself in a relationship. For a couple of years after moving to Missouri, she didn’t allow Grace to date.

  Things lightened up after Grace graduated from high school. As her mom began to heal emotionally, she’d insisted that Grace get into counseling.

  Grace had refused.

  Now she couldn’t help wondering if, somewhere in her subconscious, her mom’s warnings had combined with personal experience to lock a door inside her that might never open.

  Delight’s smile cracked around the edges as she watched Denton’s profile. The man never smiled anymore. And his constant conflict with Ladonna over songs made everybody crazy. Especially Delight.

  Even after the way she’d treated him, he continued to push for her to have more exposure. Why?

  And worse, because he continued to show her so much partiality, no one in the cast respected her.

  As conversations drifted across the table without her, she saw Grace get up and stroll over to the window, as if suddenly fascinated by the darkening shapes of the tree-covered hills. Michael’s gaze followed her every movement.

  What would it be like to have that kind of man love you that much?

  She glanced sideways at Blake, who was listening to Cassidy describe his morning job as a surgery tech. So that was where Cassidy got the extra money for those fancy clothes he loved to wear, the fl
ashy jewelry, the Escalade he drove.

  She studied Cassidy as he laughed a little more loudly than usual, then glanced at his drink glass. He’d been to the Library Lounge at least a couple of times. Looked as if he was drinking some hard stuff and having a good time.

  “Wish I could land a contract with a recording company from Nashville,” Cassidy muttered. “At least I wouldn’t make them wait for a decision.”

  “Who wouldn’t like a contract?” Blake asked. “But wishing doesn’t make it so. I’m just going to focus on being the best I can be.”

  Cassidy shot a resentful look toward Grace’s back as she stood at the window looking out. “She doesn’t play fair.”

  Delight felt a trickle of guilt. She hadn’t exactly been playing fair lately, and her jealousy of Grace had been much like Cassidy’s.

  The thought suddenly made her sick. She excused herself from the table.

  Elegant desserts graced each place setting and the aroma of after-dinner coffee lingered in the air when the headwaiter approached Grace with the check. She gave him her charge card, glanced past his left shoulder and caught sight of Jolene Tucker sitting down in Delight’s empty chair as Michael’s expression took on the look of a cornered animal.

  “Oh, please, Grace,” Mitzi hissed, “tell me you didn’t invite that woman here tonight.”

  “You know better, but I couldn’t very well tell Denton who to date.”

  “You think he’s been feeding her that information all along?” Ladonna asked.

  “I’ve given up trying to figure it out.”

  Sherilyn chuckled. “Grace should be spilling her guts to Jolene. It’s called exposure.”

  “Why can’t it be good exposure?” Ladonna asked. “Why can’t that woman write about the time Grace donates at the soup kitchen in Springfield or that Michael volunteers at the homeless shelter?”

  “Nobody wants to read about the sweet, sappy stuff,” Sherilyn said. “They want dirt, and plenty of it. That’s what sells, and Jolene knows that.”

  “She’s still a gossip,” Mitzi muttered.

  Sherilyn pushed her chair back, pasted on a smile and went to Michael’s rescue.