The news hit Vaughn with such force he could almost feel his sixteen-year-old self tearing up inside. Mother had flat-out been told what she was doing, and the effect she was having on him, and still she had persisted. “I never knew Mary Alice said that.”
“Well, she did.” His mother still sounded indignant. “Can you believe it?”
“God bless her,” Vaughn said.
“What?” Clearly, his words weren’t what his mother had been expecting. “You mean to tell me, Vaughn Clifford Mortimer Humphries, that you think I’ve spent all these years blaming you for your father’s death?”
“You have,” he said. “And used the guilt I felt over it to try and force me into a marriage with a woman I can barely stand.”
“But a marriage between the two of you is what your father wanted.” Her voice rose when she spoke. “I owed it to him to try and keep everything in the family as he wanted it.”
“Please don’t try and make excuses, Mom.”
“I’m not making excuses.”
“Aren’t you? Because, I don’t know what you and Dad talked about in private, but he never said anything to me about marrying Ellie. That was always you and Jeanne Dodson. Dad was a very nice, very unpretentious man, and I don’t think he’d even like the woman Eleanor grew up to be.”
“Vaughn, I don’t know where this is coming from.”
“And there’s one more thing, Mom. I am not to blame for dad’s death.”
Silence greeted him on the other end of the phone – a full two seconds of it. Then, his mother said, “Well, of course you’re not. I never said that you were.’
“Actually, Mother, you did. At Dad’s funeral. Right in front of everyone.”
She sucked in a breath. “Vaughn, I don’t know what to say.”
“How about, I’m sorry?”
“Well, I am sorry. But I was just hurt. And scared. And angry. And I had no idea how I was going to carry on without your father.”
He supposed he should feel sorry for her, and truthfully, he did. But as much as anything, he felt angry right now. For eighteen years he’d carried the burden of guilt and shame and failure…carried it until it felt like it was slowly drowning him. And now it was like the dam had finally burst. “I felt all those same things, Mom. And I was only sixteen. And you never tried to help me with those feelings. Instead, you made them worse. And you know what, I deserved better from you.”
She said nothing, and he let a moment of silence pass before saying, “There’s something else you should know.”
“What is that?” she asked, sniffling as she spoke.
“Mary Alice is pregnant.”
“What?” Surprise sounded heavy in her voice. “When did she find out? Why hasn’t she told me?”
“Probably because you disowned her and didn’t bother showing up at her wedding.”
“But, I—”
“But nothing, Mom. You owe Mary Alice an apology. A huge one. And Daniel, and his entire family too. And you might give some thought to the fact that if you don’t, if you allow both of your children to be cut out of your life, it isn’t only them you’re losing. You’ll be losing all of your grandchildren too. You’ll never get to see little William Clifford or Judith Clarice.”
“Oh, Vaughn. I had no idea.”
He heard his mother cry over the phone, and he felt badly about it, but not badly enough to take back anything he’d said. “Look,” he said, softening his tone. “I love you, Mom, and I’d just as soon stay here in Grosse Pointe. I’d just as soon not leave you here alone, but you need to accept that I love Bexley, and I want to marry her.”
She sniffled a few times more before sucking in a breath. “All I really want is for you to be happy. I just thought things had to be done a certain way.”
“Bexley Hart makes me very happy, Mom. I love her, and I think once you meet her, you’ll love her, too.”
“Fine. Jeanne will just have to understand about it not working out with you and Eleanor. And if she doesn’t, well I guess we’re just not the kind of friends I thought we were.”
“Thank you, Mom.” He hung up the phone, feeling the closest thing to euphoria he’d ever felt. One hurdle down, one more to go. All he had to do now was convince Bexley he wasn’t the jerk she thought he was.
Before today, he would never have believed his mother would back away from her expectations, and he’d been prepared to walk away from her, and from his life here, if it took that to be with the woman he loved. What an idiot he’d been not to see that his mother only controlled him because he let her. It didn’t matter, though. Not anymore. He could waste time and energy blaming his mother, or Eleanor, or the ways people like Eleanor and Valerie Jameson could skewer a person’s reputation by the gossip mill they kept spinning, but it really didn’t matter. In the end, only he was to blame, and it was up to him to fix it.
Unfortunately, it had taken saying those awful words to Bexley to realize how ridiculous they really were. And maybe he’d waited too long to finally get past what had been expected of him his whole life. Maybe he’d lost Bexley already, but he wasn’t going to let her go with a fight.
His mind went over a thousand things as he drove around town looking for her. All the time he’d spent with her, the nights of passion they’d experienced in his bed, the way she smiled, the way her hair sparkled in the sun, the taste of her skin, and the way she shuddered when he took her over the brink of ecstasy, every conversation, and the way he’d hurt her last night. Shame ate at him as he searched a dozen different places, not finding her anywhere. Finally, he ended up at her place.
Getting out of his car, he checked his watch. Seven-thirty. Bexley was supposed to meet Valerie at the Hill over an hour ago, but her Terrain was still parked in the driveway. No lights were on inside the house. Strange.
After ringing her doorbell three times, standing at her front door for three minutes that felt more like twenty, he let out a long sigh. Maybe Valerie had picked her up.
He’d checked the Hill already, and they were not there. Getting back inside his car, he drove to Val’s place on Lakeshore. They may have opted to have drinks there first.
It took him fifteen minutes to drive from Bexley’s apartment to Valerie’s place, and he spent the entire drive rehashing what he was going to say to Bexley, how he was going to apologize. When he got to Valerie’s though, the house was dark. He was about to back out of the driveway when he noticed Valerie’s Mercedes parked on the side drive. Shutting off his engine, he got out of the car. Something didn’t feel right.
Behind him, he heard another car pull up and its engine shut off. Turning, he saw a black Lincoln SUV. He waited as Max LeBec opened the door and climbed out of the car.
“Mr. Humphries,” the detective said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Good evening, Max. I’m surprised to see you here as well.” Then, feeling like he should explain himself, not wanting Max to get the wrong idea, he said, “I was hoping to catch Bexley before she and Valerie head out for the night. What brings you here?”
“You said Bexley Hart is here?”
“I think so. Valerie invited her to a girls’ night out.”
Vaughn didn’t like the look on Max’s face as he spoke, the way his teeth clenched and his eyes widened. “Is something wrong, Max?”
“Damn it.” Max took porch steps two at a time. He pounded on the door, ringing the doorbell and hollering, “Valerie Jameson. It’s the Grosse Pointe Police. Open up.”
“What’s wrong?” Vaughn felt it now, the alarm, the fear that Max felt, like some contagious disease the man had passed on just by the sound of his voice. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Max shook his head, the bad news he carried spilling out of him. “I think Valerie Jameson’s the Country Club Ripper.”
“Oh God.” Vaughn didn’t want to believe it, but it all made sense. Valerie had spent their entire two dates talking about how Annie and Hannah had ruined her marriage…and whined about how Katherine
made sure she and Lin would never get back together. Aside from that, she’d questioned him about the women he’d dated previously. When he’d bumped into her at Kroger last summer, after his final blow-up with Eleanor, Valerie had asked again. Was he dating anyone yet? Did he think maybe he’d be interested in dating one of the women he’d dated before? At the time, he’d thought she was hinting about the two of them going out again. The only woman he’d said he’d definitely never date again had been Eleanor. Sophie and Emma, he’d had good things to say about them. Even though he hadn’t seen a future with either of them, he’d wanted to be a gentleman…didn’t want to say anything negative behind their backs, or seem like he was bad-mouthing them.
Max pounded at the door now, calling for back-up on his phone.
The helpless feeling didn’t sit well with Vaughn. “Stand back,” he said. “I’ve got this.” Drawing in a breath, he exhaled as he kicked the door. It flew open, nearly pulling him off his feet, and he stumbled forward.
“The door wasn’t locked,” Max said behind him.
“Yeah. I’m getting that.”
Inside, the house was dim, with heavy drapes drawn across the windows, blocking out the early evening sun. Illumination came only from the kitchen at the back of the house, filtering through the dining room and fading by the time it reached the foyer.
“Bexley!” Vaughn ran from the foyer, past a heavily carved wooden staircase, and into the living room. “Where are you?”
Max ran in behind him. “Mrs. Jameson! Are you in here?”
Valerie’s scream went off beside Bexley’s ear. The weight of her body collapsed down, head angled up, looking at Bexley with angry eyes. “You bitch!” She shouted. “You’ve stabbed me!”
Warm sticky blood oozed out of Valerie, flowing across the upper part of Bexley’s arm. Heart hammering so hard, she could hardly breathe, Bexley thought for sure Valerie would spring up, take the knife out of her gut, and drive it inside her. But she just lay there, air pushing from her lungs, the enraged look on her face slackening. Her eyes closed, and Bexley couldn’t tell if she was still alive. “Valerie,” she whispered.
Valerie said nothing, but Bexley could hear her now, still breathing, a funny wheezing noise coming from her chest. Not dead. But probably dying.
She was going to die here too, Bexley thought. Trapped inside Valerie’s hidden tunnel, with her lifeless body on top of her. If no one besides Valerie knew about the tunnel – and that much seemed likely – it could take months, years even, before someone found them.
The whole injustice of it made Bexley so mad she started to cry. Stupid Valerie. Her wicked plan might actually succeed after all. Bexley struggled harder against the zip ties, and the weight of Valerie’s body, desperate to be free. She was sobbing so hard she nearly missed the sound of voices coming from the ceiling above. When she did hear them, she started to scream, hollering until her throat felt raw and her lungs burned. “I’m in here! In the tunnel! I’m in the tunnel!”
Her screams brought Valerie back to a state of consciousness, her eyes snapping open. Just enough life poured back into Valerie, that she mustered the strength to wrap her hands around Bexley’s throat, and she started to squeeze.
“Do you hear that?” Vaughn thought he might be hearing things. But the screams came again, coming from under the floorboards.
“The basement,” Max said, already running down them.
Vaughn followed, nearly tripping down the stairs.
Valerie’s basement spanned the entire length of the house. Paneled and finished off with porcelain tile, it consisted of a laundry room where the boiler and hot water heater were, a combination playroom/family room, and at the far end, a wine cellar. As they entered, the yelling got louder, and Vaughn could make out Bexley’s voice, but she was nowhere to be seen. Her voice seemed to come from behind the walls. “Bexley!” He yelled. “Where are you?”
“I’m in the tunnel.”
Her words sounded strangled, choked out with a gurgling noise.
“This house was built during prohibition,” Max said. “There must be a smuggler’s tunnel behind one of these walls.”
Max was already tapping on the walls, and Vaughn followed his lead. It didn’t feel like they would ever find the entrance soon enough.
Whatever life was left in Valerie’s body, she was using every bit of it to try and finish the job she had started. Pain burned Bexley’s throat and lungs as she struggled to suck in air, turning her head from side-to-side, desperate to shake the hold Valerie had around her neck. Her body clawed to remain conscious now, to not give in. Darkness crowded the edges of her vision. “Get off me,” she said, the words barely getting out.
Valerie’s hands clamped harder around her throat. “Why won’t you die, you bitch?”
“Why won’t you?” Bexley asked. With all the blood pouring out of the woman, she couldn’t believe Valerie was still conscious.
“Vaughn!” She tried yelling for him again. “Please hurry!”
“Bexley! Where are you?”
His voice sounded muffled, and she knew if he didn’t find the tunnel soon, it would all be over for her.
Valerie choked harder. “Shut up, you little whore. He’s not going to rescue you. Do you hear me? He’s not. You’re going to die, and you are never going to see Vaughn again!”
“Wine cellar.” Bexley managed to gasp out the two words, not sure if she’d said them loud enough for anyone to hear.
She had almost lost the battle, almost given in to the darkness fighting to take hold, when the door leading from the wine cellar to the tunnel opened, and Vaughn rushed through, followed by Detective LeBec.
“Get off her!” She heard Vaughn yell.
Valerie let go of her then, but not to surrender. Grabbing the knife that Bexley had planted in her gut, she raised it in the air, poised above Bexley’s heart.
It all happened in a blur…Valerie letting go of her throat, lifting the knife…starting to drive it down…and a shot ringing out, blasting out with a thunderous explosion of gunpowder igniting inside the chamber and propelling the bullet forward…straight into Valerie’s head.
Valerie dropped the knife to the concrete floor, and the full force of her body weight crushed down on Bexley while the last bit of air heaved from her chest. Bexley let go of all her tears in a rush of relief. She was saved.
Epilogue
Vaughn found Bexley on the wicker sofa on the back porch of the country club. It was a warm October night, and it reminded him of a night three months ago, when his feelings for her had sparked from an ember to a slow-burning flame…a flame that ignited to a raging inferno not so very long ago.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, sitting down beside her.
“I was just thinking how lucky I am.” Snuggling close, she laid her head on his shoulder. “Things could have gone so differently. And it amazes me to think of how many ways things have to go exactly right for a person to end up at a certain place in their life. I mean, what if Cameron Pringle hadn’t hit on me that night, would you have gotten jealous enough to realize you wanted to do more than just date me? Or what if your sister hadn’t called you, and you hadn’t realized what an idiot you’d been?” She paused, her breath catching just a little. “Or, Valerie could have killed me. What if you’d never come looking for me that night?”
“Well, I did come looking for you.” He kissed her on top of her head. “And I always will. Every step each of us took led us to this exact place and time. It’s enough to make a man believe in fate.”
She smiled in his arms. “You can be pretty romantic when you have a mind to be. You know that?”
As she spoke, a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky in the distances. “Yes,” Vaughn agreed. “I even special-ordered the lightning.”
She laughed, falling against him in that way that aroused every inch of him. He thought about giving her a better kiss, something more intimate than the one he’d just given her, but his impulse was in
terrupted by Nan bursting out from the ballroom.
“Hey, don’t you two think the guests of honor should be present at their own engagement party?”
“You’re right.” Bexley stood, pulling Vaughn to his feet. “Let’s go get started with the rest of our lives.”
* * *
The End
A Letter to My Readers
* * *
My love affair with romance began early. By age 11 or 12, I was “shipping” couples on television shows, long before there was an official term for such a thing. If I saw two people who worked well together, had chemistry and complemented one another, I found myself hoping they would find their way to happily ever after. It’s hardly surprising then that romance would occupy a main focus of my work.
* * *
That wasn’t my only area of interest, however. At the same time I was busy shipping TV couples, I was equally interested in mystery and suspense. I went from Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books to Agatha Christie, always excited to see how the mystery would unfold and the villain would be brought to justice. These dueling interests…romance and suspense…have always fascinated me. Particularly the way the elements work together to heighten the romance, give our hero and heroine enormous obstacles to overcome, and prove conclusively that true love really does conquer all.
* * *
Still, there was just one more thing missing. Enter a show called Dynasty. I was hooked from the very first episode I saw. All that glamour. All that bling. Not to mention all that soap opera drama. How could I possibly resist? In truth, I couldn’t. So when I started writing, all of these elements found their way into my work: the romance, the suspense, the soap opera storylines tied up in a big, fat, diamond-encrusted bow.
* * *
I hope you’ll enjoy my specially crafted brand of Glamorous, Dangerous Romance. Grosse Pointe is a novella, which is part of a collaborative romance publishing project called Common Elements Romance, in which over 100 romance authors have come together to publish novels or novellas in the span of two months. Each story contains the following five elements: 1) a character named Max; 2) a lightning storm; 3) a haunted house; 4) a lost key; and 5) a thick stack of books.
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