The Heiress

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  HALF AN HOUR LATER, figuring he’d gotten all the society news he could out of the charity event, Bucky was just about ready to leave the elementary school, when he saw Ginger Zaring getting out of the back of Richard Templeton’s limousine. The voluptuous redhead was dressed in a short, ruffled sundress with a deep V neckline that did very little to cover her ample breasts, very high heels and way more makeup than he had ever seen her wear before.

  Bucky snorted in disgust, aware that it very much looked like one of his original theories—that Ginger Zaring wasn’t just shaking down the Templetons but playing the hooker for them at various events with the Templetons’ society friends, too—just might be true. Not that this was in itself so surprising, Bucky thought as he ducked behind a tree so as not to be seen. Any number of high-expenditure businesses had been supplying high-class call girls to favorite clients as a perk of doing business with them for centuries. And working girls for the truly upper crust often also did something else as their day jobs. Their moonlighting was just for extra cash and/or kicks or entrée into a world they would never otherwise see.

  In Ginger Zaring’s case, Bucky was betting it was for cash. Because the voluptuous redhead hadn’t looked to be particularly enjoying herself the night he had seen her biding her time at Rosewood, and she didn’t look particularly happy to be there tonight, either.

  Oblivious to Bucky’s presence in the deserted schoolyard, Ginger looked around furtively, and a moment later headed for the side of the elementary school, away from the entrance to the gymnasium.

  Bucky waited until the Templeton limousine drove off, then made his way around to that part of the school building, too. The fire door had been wedged open with a small wooden block. The wing of classrooms was dark and empty. At the end of the long corridor was another.

  Bucky wandered down the hall, checking out each room in turn, finding nothing and no one until he reached the school library. His eyes widened in stunned amazement as he caught a glimpse of Ginger Zaring and the male she was there to service, and what they were doing was definitely X-rated.

  BUCKY HUNG AROUND until the private party in the school library had ended and Richard Templeton had dismissed his girlfriend. He then returned to the Charleston Herald newspaper office. He still couldn’t believe what he had seen, but there was no denying the sordid liaison. He was just glad Daisy hadn’t seen it.

  Not that he should care about Daisy at all after the way she had humiliated him years ago, dumping him the way she had, when everyone knew, or at least guessed the two of them had gone off to that hotel room to have sex for the very first time.

  Okay. He’d probably always resent her for that—the fact she hadn’t given him a chance to make it up to her, because he knew her first time had been astoundingly lousy. Over in about sixty seconds, once he had gotten her onto the bed. But she’d looked so sexy in her secretly altered parent-approved prom dress. He couldn’t help himself.

  Bucky didn’t mean to get carried away, or push Daisy into something he knew—deep down—she wasn’t really ready for. But he had done it, anyway, despite Daisy’s last minute reservations. Hoping that once the deed was done, she would loosen up a little, relax, start to enjoy herself. Instead, she had only seemed to feel worse in the aftermath. And then she’d fled, the look on her face telling him she knew she had made a huge mistake, even going up to the hotel room with Bucky.

  She’d never seen him after that night.

  And after a few futile tries to talk to her on the phone he’d let it go. But now that they were both back in Charleston again, Bucky was surprised at how vulnerable Daisy seemed, how pale and drawn and sad beneath the surface bravura. Bucky didn’t know what was going on with her and Jack. He didn’t think it was love—he didn’t think Daisy would ever let herself be emotionally accessible enough for that. But it was probably something—given the way those two looked at each other—that she should hang on to.

  Meanwhile, Bucky thought, there was Daisy’s father.

  Bucky sighed and shook his head, thinking about how many lectures on responsibility and comporting-himself-with-dignity-so-as-not-to-sully-Daisy’s-reputation he’d endured from that blue-blooded butt-wipe. Someone had to get that hypocrite back in line, Bucky thought as he ignored the paper’s no-smoking policy and lit a cigarette. Bucky figured it might as well be him.

  “THIS IS HORRIBLE,” Charlotte Templeton said the next morning over breakfast. Furthermore, she couldn’t believe Adlai Jerome was letting his son publish such rubbish!

  Richard looked up over the top of the business section. He preferred she not speak during breakfast. When she did, he looked irritated. “What?” he demanded, clearly piqued.

  “Bucky Jerome’s column this morning!”

  Furious, upset, Charlotte stared at the story Bucky had written under the tag line Dangerous Love. Unable to help herself, unable to wonder who Bucky was talking about—assuming, of course, it was true, and she didn’t for one second believe it was—Charlotte read it again.

  Dangerous Love

  What prominent collector of very fine things is stealing off to be with his flame-haired lady love? Reportedly, there’s a time and place for everything, for even this well-known and highly regarded “family” man. But the butler’s pantry in the middle of a very fancy party? A very public library? Despite the rising temperatures, cooler heads should prevail. Or a prominent member of blue-blooded Charleston society could find himself and his gorgeous mistress in the middle of a Category 5 hurricane that has absolutely nothing to do with the South Carolina weather.

  “I mean,” Charlotte continued heatedly, “Bucky can’t go around making assertions like that. People will think it’s true!”

  “People will think what is true?” Richard grumbled, reaching for the society section in his wife’s hand. He frowned disinterestedly as he read, then scoffed, shook his head. He handed the paper back to Charlotte. “I don’t see why you’re so upset. So someone in Charleston has a mistress. So what?” he asked in a low, bored tone.

  Charlotte’s appetite vanished. She pushed her plate of fruit away. “So maybe his wife would care!”

  Richard forked up another bite of eggs Benedict. “I really don’t see what the problem is.”

  Charlotte stared at her husband furiously. “It’s not right for a husband to humiliate his wife and family that way. And furthermore, I would think you, of all people, Richard, would understand the need for decorum!”

  “What I understand,” Richard said, abruptly getting up from the table, “is the need for a little peace.”

  “Where are you going?” Charlotte watched him march away from the table.

  Richard didn’t answer. Didn’t turn around. Simply walked out.

  Charlotte sighed and went back to her newspaper. She still couldn’t believe Bucky Jerome had written that article. Couldn’t believe a truly prominent, cultured member of the Charleston elite and a “family man” would ever do such unwise, uncivilized things as what Bucky was suggesting.

  For heaven’s sake, what would happen if the philanderer’s wife did find out? How could she possibly bear it? Especially if the worst happened and the affair became public knowledge.

  “WE’VE HAD COMPLAINTS,” Adlai told Bucky when he sauntered into the newspaper at noon.

  “So what’s new?” Bucky said with a disinterested shrug. He’d known he was going to get it for this, but he’d done it anyway, for Daisy’s sake. It was past time Richard Templeton got a little payback for the way he had treated Daisy all these years.

  Ignoring the very expensive cuckoo clock Bucky had given him for his birthday, Adlai continued his dressing-down with more than usual vigor. “I’m referring to the blind item entitled Dangerous Love.” Adlai picked up the messages and began reading through the stack, top to bottom. “‘How many marriages do you think you’ve ruined—I’m here to tell you, quite a few.’ And there’s the other viewpoint. ‘Come on, quit tantalizing us. Tell us who, when, where, how and why. Otherwise,
we’re going to think Bucky Jerome is making this stuff up.’”

  Bucky gritted his teeth. Leave it to his father to seize on that. “I’m not making this stuff up,” he said defiantly as he slung his backpack off his shoulder and slouched in a chair.

  Adlai regarded Bucky with frank disbelief. “So you said.”

  “Hey—” Bucky unzipped the backpack, more than ready for this confrontation “—I’ve got proof.”

  Adlai swore, distressed. “Tell me you didn’t take pictures,” he said.

  Bucky smiled and began getting out his proof. “I took pictures. The problem was, it was dark and you couldn’t really make out their faces while they were in the act. So I went in after ’em and cleaned up—literally and figuratively.”

  Adlai froze. “What the hell are you talking about?” he grumbled.

  Bucky pulled out a Ziploc bag, similar to the kind the police detectives used to transport evidence. “Lipstick-stained tissues. And tissues stained with, well, you can guess what that is.” He waved the telltale tissues in front of his father’s nose.

  “Geez, Bucky.” Adlai recoiled as if he’d actually touched the remainders of the illicit lovemaking. “What in blue blazes are you trying to do?” he demanded, even more upset.

  Bucky handed over a stack of pictures only a porno magazine would print, then sat back in his chair and laid the plastic bag across his lap. “Report the hot and juicy society news, just like you told me to do.”

  Adlai frowned as he thumbed through the photo diary of the previous evening’s occurrence. “You can’t run these photos.”

  No surprise there, Bucky thought. He regarded his father, enjoying the stunned look on Adlai’s face. “I didn’t think I could. At least not in this newspaper.”

  Adlai handed back the stack of photos Bucky had printed out on his home computer. “Not in any, unless you want to get sued for defamation.”

  Bucky shoved the evidence and photos back in his bag then lifted his hands in self-defense. “Hey. Last night was a public event with newspaper coverage. Richard and his honey should’ve known better.”

  Adlai sank down in his chair. Now that Adlai knew about the sordid affair, he couldn’t seem to let it go, either. “Richard Templeton? That stuffed shirt?” Adlai asked curiously. “Who’s the woman?”

  “Ginger Zaring, an airline reservations agent.”

  Adlai scowled as the talk turned to the Herald once again. “You’re walking a fine line here, Bucky, you know that.”

  Bucky refused to let his father cow him out of doing his job. “I didn’t say the names of the parties involved,” Bucky defended himself. “And I’m serious about the potential for one hell of a stormy divorce. If Richard Templeton’s wife finds out what he has been up to, there’s no telling what could happen.”

  Adlai took a second to think about that. “You don’t really think Charlotte would divorce Richard?”

  Bucky shrugged, knowing if Charlotte Templeton had seen what he had, she would. Then, Bucky thought, he would have the scoop on one of the biggest, most expensive, ignoble divorces Charleston had seen in years.

  “Is that all?” Bucky started to get up. He wanted to get his DNA proof to a safe-deposit box, just in case Richard Templeton decided to come after him. One look at his proof of the night’s activities, and Richard’s lawyers were likely to tell Richard to leave Bucky the hell alone.

  “No. Sit down,” Adlai ordered grimly. He waited until Bucky complied before continuing. “No more blind items like that, Bucky. Got it? It’s not what the people of Charleston are looking for. You want to write sordid, put it in a sexy screenplay. And while you’re at it, lay off Daisy Templeton, too.”

  “Granger,” Bucky corrected, glad for the change of subject to someone he would much rather think about. “Daisy’s married now, you know.”

  Adlai huffed as the cuckoo bird slid out of the clock and let out an irritating screech. “Her family is complaining.”

  Of course, Bucky thought. It kept ’em from thinking about the real problem—Richard’s disgraceful behavior. He regarded his father curiously. “What about Daisy?” Bucky asked, wondering if the two of them would ever be able to be friends again. “Has she called in?”

  “No,” Adlai replied sternly as he gave Bucky another chastising look, “but her parents have. And so has Tom Deveraux.”

  Bucky frowned. Jack he had expected. Not Tom. “That’s unusual, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Adlai shrugged. “Well, Granger is counsel for Deveraux-Heyward Shipping. And Daisy is married to him. Bottom line, they are all upset about the way you have been hounding Daisy. Tom also mentioned he might not be running quite so many ads in the business section if we don’t lay off.”

  Bucky refused to let pressure scare him. “He’s bluffing.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Adlai reiterated curtly. “You’re upsetting important people, Bucky.”

  “So?” Bucky countered as he returned his father’s narrow look. “The news does that. People don’t always like the truth.”

  Adlai came around his desk to stand in front of Bucky, jaw clenched, face red with fury. “Obviously, I am not making myself clear, son. You want to keep writing that gossip column of yours? Then do it in a way that you don’t offend so many people, especially those prone to take some sort of direct or indirect action against us. Otherwise, you’re going to find yourself right back in classified ads.”

  Bucky left his father’s office totally bummed. There was no pleasing that man. And no way in hell he was going to get famous writing about what tea cakes were eaten at which soiree. Not that he had wanted to be on this assignment anyway. What he wanted was the police beat. The EMS run.

  Of course, there could be a crime involved in the goings-on between Richard Templeton and his mistress if he was paying her to have sex with him. Or if the sex were given in exchange for ludicrously expensive antiques. Which were, in Bucky’s view, nothing more than old pieces of polished-up junk. But how to prove that? And who would care, even if he did? Except for the wife and maybe his daughters. Richard and his mistress were both consenting adults. Bucky had seen the woman—she had arrived voluntarily. She was certainly of age. If Ginger Zaring wanted to permanently mess up her life engaging in such reckless behavior with a prominent married man, that was her decision.

  GINGER DREW A BREATH and put the newspaper aside.

  Alyssa came in, her clothes for her movie-theater job on. She paused in the act of pinning her badge on her shirt. “Mom?” Alyssa looked at Ginger closely. “Are you okay?”

  For someone who had permanently screwed up her life by trying to find the easy way out, Ginger thought. “Sure, honey.” She smiled at her daughter, doing her best to act as if nothing was wrong.

  “You look kind of funny.”

  Ginger’s hands curled around the society section. There was no way Alyssa would ever put two and two together. “I’m fine,” Ginger said even more firmly.

  Alyssa got out the peanut butter and jelly and began making herself a low-cost meal to take to work. “How was your date last night?”

  A mistake. Just like getting involved with Richard was a mistake. “It was fine, too,” Ginger lied.

  “Do you have to work today?” Alyssa added a small container of applesauce and a bag of chips to her lunch bag.

  Ginger nodded as the telephone rang. “I’ve got the 4:00 p.m. to midnight shift.” Relieved to have a reprieve from her only child’s questions, Ginger picked up the phone and found Richard on the other end of the line.

  “I have to see you,” he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  DR. RAMETTI BREEZED INTO the exam room and greeted Daisy with a warm hello. She pulled up a stool next to the examining table where Daisy sat, wearing a pink paper gown and took a moment to study the notes her nurse had made on Daisy’s chart before looking back up at Daisy. “You’re looking good, like you’ve had some sun,” she remarked as she pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. “How are you doing?”r />
  Daisy shrugged as the nurse helped her lie back and scoot down to put her feet in the stirrups. “Okay.”

  Dr. Rametti patted Daisy’s knee. “It’d be all right if you weren’t, you know. It’s only been two weeks since you lost the baby and a fallopian tube.”

  “I know.” Daisy had never known time could go as slowly as it had the past couple of weeks. The only way she seemed able to get through each day was by staying as busy as possible, working every minute she could, and falling exhausted into bed at night.

  “I read in Bucky Jerome’s column that you got the staff photographer’s job with Grace Deveraux’s new television show.”

  Daisy didn’t know how Bucky had known, and she wasn’t about to call him to find out, but he had reported her career coup before Daisy had even shown up for work! Fortunately, for a change, there had been nothing salacious in the item, no lousy or embarrassing picture of her accompanying the article, just simple statement of fact.

  Dr. Rametti adjusted the light so she could see what she was doing. “What’s the show called again?”

  Daisy closed her eyes and tried not to think about the pelvic exam she was undergoing. “At Home with Grace.”

  Dr. Rametti indicated Daisy should slide a little farther toward the end of the table. “Is it a talk show?”

  “More like a home and garden, family and child type thing,” Daisy said as she struggled to comply. “They do a lot of how-to segments, like Grace used to do on Rise and Shine, America! I photograph everything, and when the show is up and running, we’ll put the photographs on the Web. And of course use a lot of the shots for advertising and publicity, too.”