“Have you decided who’s going to take over at Hank’s Place after the wedding?”
The question surprised Robin. “I’ll still run Hank’s. Why wouldn’t I?”
The journalist looked skeptical. “So, you’re like those lottery winners that swear up and down they won’t quit their jobs?”
Robin grinned, “I don’t play the lottery, Mr. Roberts. But I love Hank’s Place. I can’t imagine any good reason to ever quit.”
“Robin, what can you tell our readers about stabbing your foster father in the back?”
Barry sat forward, “Don’t answer that, Robin.”
Robin said, “It’s okay … “
Barry held up a massive hand, “No, it isn’t okay. Mr. Roberts, if you want to discuss this topic, you had better go off the record. Otherwise, you may have to explain to a Superior Court Judge how you apparently committed or were complicitous in felonious access to sealed juvenile records.”
Roberts glanced back at Robin and asked, “Off the record okay?”
Robin nodded, “It’s fine.”
Barry sat back but his eyes never left Roberts. Robin explained, “At the age of 15, there was a set of very specific circumstances that led to that act of self-defense. I really don’t care to elaborate on the details of those circumstances, but I can tell you that if I had it to do over again with the same outcome, I would do it again.”
“Why run from the law? If stabbing a person in the back could possibly be self defense, why not press charges?”
“Because I was a child, Mr. Roberts. A little girl. The only thing anyone had ever taught me about conflict by age 15 was to fight, hide, or run. And one thing I learned about fighting is never to get into a fight I might lose. So I ran and I hid.”
Don retrieved his legal pad and pencil. “Can we go on record about how your former employer pulled strings with city hall to get you custody of your sister Maxine?”
Barry kept his tone droll, “You mean about her then minor child sister Maxine? That one?”
Don looked at Barry, his eyes not giving anything away, “It isn’t like that.”
Robin interjected, “Off the record, Mr. Roberts. I wanted custody of Maxine to get her out of those circumstances.” Robin felt her eyes begin to tear up and she took a slow deep breath. “Off the record, Mr. Roberts. You wouldn’t want anyone to live in those circumstances. The thing is, the vast majority of foster parents and adoptive parents are loving, giving, and caring people. They are skilled and they are, well, parents for lack of a better word. My youngest sister, Sarah, was adopted by a wonderful, caring, loving couple who couldn’t have children of their own.
“But, Mr. Roberts, for all the good people in the system, there is a minority of foster parents who are not all of those things. Not at all. The fact is that my sister Maxine and I just happened to fall into one of those rare bad situations.”
Robin felt Tony’s hand on her shoulder, his fingers gently squeezing, reassuring. “Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the police recovered my sisters and me from a very bad neighborhood. We were in the back of a dark, moldy closet in a condemned shack strewn with cigarettes and drugs and booze – oh, and two dead bodies. Maybe that’s why. Maybe not. Who can say? The fact is, we ended up going from an unbelievably horrible situation to one that was merely intolerable. And Mr. Roberts, I don’t regret doing what I had to do to get myself and my sister out. And I owe Hank so much for his help. For the record, the greatest thing I’ve done in my life so far was getting custody of my sister, Maxine.”
The journalist took his pencil and very obviously lined out through three lines of his notes. He poised his finger above his phone and asked, “For the record, Robin, when did you know your life was going to change?”
Robin sat back and nodded. Don hit the button on his phone to start recording again. Tony subtly removed his hand and Robin somehow knew that he had rested it back atop the chair, just inches away, ready to intervene and reassure her once more if she needed his touch. “Well, Mr. Roberts, the first inkling I had that my life was about to change forever was on Tony’s birthday. My sister, Maxine, had invited him to stay and celebrate and she even baked him a cake.”
Greater Than Rubies: CHAPTER 10
OBIN drove to the church, but it was entirely under protest. Maxine and Sarah had shown up at Hank’s at five and insisted that she eat dinner with them. All she longed to do was go home and hide, to mull over that morning’s interview until she dissected all of the things she probably said the wrong way. But, she couldn’t go home, could she? She didn’t even have a home anymore. She had an air mattress in what would be Maxine’s art studio.
Sarah slid out of the back seat of the car and looked at her watch. “What time does your church start?”
Maxine got out of the passenger’s seat. “Seven on Wednesdays.”
“It’s five after.”
Robin laid her head on the steering wheel. “I have a headache. Why don’t you two go on. I’ll come back and get you.”
“No you don’t,” Maxine said, opening the door. “There’s headache pills in the glove box. Let’s go in. You’ll be glad you did.”
Robin covered her eyes with the palms of her hands. “I don’t think so.”
“For days now you’ve been completely down,” Maxine said. “Let’s go inside. You’ll feel a lot better when you do.”
Sarah wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. “Come on, Robin, it’s cold out here.”
Robin glared at Maxine. “No. I’m going home and going to bed. I’ll be back to get you.”
Maxine leaned forward and put her forehead on Robin’s. “You have a church full of girlfriends throwing you a surprise bridal shower. You need to swallow some aspirin, slap on a smile, and come in like you’ve never been so surprised in your life.”
Tears burned in Robin’s throat. “I don’t want to have a wedding shower,” she said in a near whisper. “Why would you do this to me?”
“Because, sister, this is what brides let their Maids of Honor do. They get showers thrown in their honor, and they enjoy them.” Maxine knelt at Robin’s open door. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you want to marry Tony?”
“Of course I do,” Robin whispered. A tear slid down her cheek. “I just don’t know if I can be Mrs. Tony Viscolli. Does that make sense?”
Maxine took her gloved hand. “I doubt Tony would have thought he could be Mr. Tony Viscolli, Captain of Industry, as few as just ten years ago. But, he is. Look at how well he handles it. You can do this. You’re so smart, and so charming. And those people in there,” she said, pointing to the church, “love you. Let them shower you with gifts that show you that love.”
Robin scrubbed at her cheek and pushed herself out of the car. “Okay. I’m sorry I’m not as excited about all this as you think I should be. It’s so much, and so daunting.”
“But you’re not alone,” Sarah said, slipping an arm around her waist.
“No, you’re not alone.” Maxine put her arm around her waist on the other side of her, and the two of them hugged Robin close. She felt safe and secure in that moment.
They walked toward the building, arms entwined just like that, until they reached the door. Maxine opened it and let Robin precede her into the room. After a brief pause, forty women yelled, “Surprise!”
Robin laughed and acted properly surprised. She greeted and hugged her friends and acquaintances, working her way around the room. She finally sat next to her friend Sofia Rabinovich. “How are you doing, Robin?” Sofia asked.
“I’m exhausted and on the border of intimidated by the concept of my future,” she said with a smile. “But this party has set everything to right again.”
Sofia had brown hair lightly streaked with gray, a beautiful long face, and bright green eyes. Her husband, Abram, on staff at the church had mentored Tony in Old Testament studies and would be presiding over the marriage ceremony for them. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m here,” Sofia sai
d. “You know that Abram and I have been married for many years. I can talk or listen, whatever you need.”
Robin took her hand and laid her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know what I would do without you guys in my life.”
Sofia patted her hand. “Likewise, my beautiful young friend.”
The time came when the last hors d’ouvrés had been served and everyone was in a joyful mood. Jacqueline Anderson had arrived perhaps 20 minutes late hauling three pink shirt boxes wrapped with cheetah print ribbons and bows. Jacqueline had once more introduced herself to Maxine, apparently not having remembered they had met at the potluck in this very same gymnasium a little over a month before. Jacqueline then attempted to sequester Robin and monopolize her time.
“Why roses?” Jacqueline asked. “It’s not like you’re on some strict budget or something. Who is your wedding planner? Seriously?”
At Maxine’s less than subtle urgings, Sarah interrupted and engaged Jacqueline in one of the games. As soon as the game ended, Jacqueline marched straight back up to Robin to continue the interrogation.
“I know you’ll honeymoon in Italy, but where do you think you’ll vacation? Aspen? Rio? The South of France?”
“Florida,” Robin answered.
Jacqueline let her look of disgust turn to one of just appalled. “Florida? What, exactly, is good about Florida? It’s all New York snow birds and tourists.”
“Tony proposed to me in Florida.”
Jacqueline shook her head. “Thank goodness you have such a big heart to accept that kind of treatment. I would have insisted on proposing to me somewhere nice, at least. Listen, darling, when Better Homes does the photo shoot of the apartment next June, have you given any thought to the appointments and accessories? I only ask because you really want the space to reflect your more feminine tastes instead of Tony’s more masculine decor. Trust me, they have enough of that from all the shoots of his office. Who’s your decorator? Don’t tell me you don’t already have a decorator.”
“We’re using Tony’s decorator.” Robin answered sounding a bit puzzled.
“Betty?” Jacqueline quizzed. “You’re using Betty Lamordio? She’s a dinosaur. I can recommend someone if you like.”
“What photo shoot in June?” Robin asked.
“Oh, Barry told me all about it. He had to handle all the releases. Something about a human interest piece on the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Anyway – “
Maxine interrupted and asked Jacqueline if she couldn’t be a dear and help her set up for the next party game. Jacqueline smiled a smile that never touched her eyes and oh-so-graciously agreed. The game was hosted by Caroline O’Farrell who asked Robin a series of questions about her betrothed. Whenever she got a question wrong, Robin had to stuff a grape into her cheek but not eat it. Whenever she got one right, she could make anyone else in the room hold a grape in her mouth. The winner was determined when either all the questions had been asked or someone couldn’t fit another grape inside her mouth.
The softballs came out early. “On what day month and year was Tony born? What kind of car does Tony drive? What is his favorite sport? What is his favorite meal?”
By the end of the softballs, Jacqueline was holding six grapes in her mouth and her eyes smoldered. Then the questions got harder. “Okay, Robin, what was the name of Tony’s very first company?”
Robin didn’t know the answer. She stuffed a grape into her mouth.
“What part of Italy did Tony’s mother originally come from?”
Grape.
“How many companies does Tony presently own and operate?”
Robin spoke around cheeks stuffed with grapes. “Fifty-six.”
“Oh, no, honey. He owns 71 firms.”
“What?”
“Yes, yes. Unless he bought something new or sold something since yesterday. Okay, got the grape in there? Okay, next is what is the symbol for Viscolli Enterprises on the New York Stock Exchange?”
After fourteen questions, Robin realized two things. She could fit no more than 11 grapes inside her mouth and she knew far less about the man she was going to marry in a few short weeks than she previously assumed. As soon as the game ended, and Robin and Jacqueline spit out their grapes, Jacqueline picked up exactly where they had left off with a kind of obsessiveness that infuriated Maxine.
“You simply must tell me some way I can be in your wedding party. What with my husband acting as the Best Man, it’s only proper that I at least be a bride’s maid. Although you really should consider how nice it would look to have you and Tony center stage reciting your vows flanked by my husband as his Best Man and me as your Matron of Honor. The brand new couple flanked by the old married couple. Can you imagine how nice that would look in the press releases?”
“Maxine is my maid of honor.” Robin said.
“Who is Maxine?” Jacqueline asked in a distracted way.
At that point, Maxine handed Sarah a pad and pen with probably a little more force than she meant to use and walked between the two women. “I’m so sorry. I have to borrow my sister.”
She escorted Robin back to the middle of the group which formed a rough circle and spoke over the dozens of conversations in the room. “All right everyone, it’s time to open presents.”
Robin tried to put Jacqueline Anderson out of her mind and focus on the fun of opening presents. Sarah sat next to her and wrote down who gave her what, and she unwrapped and unbagged item after item of fun presents: a heart-shaped photo frame, a wedding memories book, an awful clock that she just didn’t know what to do with.
Maxine handed her a large flat pink box with a cheetah print ribbon, and she laughed at something Caroline O’Farrell said as she opened it. She brushed aside the tissue paper, and her face immediately fused with heat when she saw the white silk and lace. She quickly closed the top.
“What was that?” Sarah asked, pen ready.
“I don’t – “
Maxine took it from her and opened the lid. A murmur of excitement and appreciation went through the ladies who saw her hold up a spaghetti strap on a pinafore before quickly putting it back in the box.
“I guessed on sizes,” Jacqueline said from her vantage point behind Maxine. She did not sit in the circle with the other ladies. “I’m confident I guessed properly.”
Maxine nodded. “I’m sure you did. You seem to be able to size people up rather well.” She stacked the opened box on top of the two unopened and set them over with the already opened gifts table.
Robin cleared her throat. “What’s next?” she asked, forcing a smile. Maxine met her eyes, conveying understanding and knowing, as she handed her a bag containing personalized stationary with the letter “V” and asked for another present, trying to put out of her mind the negligee sets and everything that they implied.
N the nightmare, Robin fingered the satin spaghetti strap of the white silk gown she wore. Her finger ran over the frilly lace that barely covered the rise of her breasts. The stale smell of cigarette smoke and spilled cheap alcohol burned her nose. Confused, she looked around. Gin bottles, discarded needle, rubber hosing, an overflowing ashtray, a blackened spoon, and a yellow disposable lighter lay on top of the burned and scarred coffee table. A big rip on the brown plaid couch allowed stuffing to come out of the cushion.
Panicked, she started toward the kitchen, needing to get a garbage bag to clean up the mess before one of the little kids got to it. What if Maxine or Sarah pricked their skin on the needle? No telling how sick it could make them.
“Where you going, little girl?”
At the sound of that voice, she froze. Her heart stopped beating and her hands went ice cold. She wanted to run, she wanted to hide, but before she could force her feet to move, a strong calloused hand seized her upper arm with nicotine stained fingers in a mean, bruising grip. “I said where ya goin’ little girl?”
He spun her around and red-rimmed yellow eyes looked her up and down, from her ba
re shoulders, down the skimpy white silk that brushed the top of her knees, to her bare feet. “Not so little though, are ya?”
His broken teeth were brown and yellow. A blistered tongue, burned from too many tries on an empty glass pipe, shot out to lick cracked lips. His foul breath reeked of cheap cigarettes and cheaper beer. Bitter bile rose up in the back of her throat and she tried to turn her head to get away from the smell.
“No, you’re a woman. Or you will be, soon as I’m done with you.” A hand gripped her breast, squeezed and twisted it until the pain made her vision gray. She realized that her nightgown had vanished. She screamed, but the sound was muffled by his hand.
Vomit clawed at her throat. She couldn’t find her knife, the knife she had palmed in the garage that time. No matter how she resisted, she wasn’t strong enough. She was never strong enough. A single tear rolled out of the corner of her eye while his gloating laughter echoed in her ears.
Suddenly, the ramshackle apartment vanished, replaced by the banks of the Charles River in the summertime. The warm sun shone down from a bright blue sky, and the softly blowing breeze caught the hem of her dress, slowly moving it around her bare legs.
Then his eyes changed. They turned from light blue, glassy, red-rimmed to chocolate dark. The putrid odor of his breath changed to faint peppermint. In the kind of transition that only makes sense in a dream, he wore white trousers and a white top, making his skin seem darker, his teeth whiter. Abruptly, his laughter no longer fell on her ears sounding sinister and selfish, but rather joyous and selfless. They laughed and danced on the grass while butterflies fluttered around them.
The river became the warm Atlantic Ocean and sea water surrounded her feet, making her toes sink into the warm sand. Tony’s eyes grew serious and his lips touched hers. The weight of the engagement ring felt like a kettle bell on her finger.
Lost in each other, they fell onto the blanket that suddenly appeared on the sand at their feet. His mouth felt gentle, loving, glorious. Her hands moved in lazy patterns across his back, feeling the hard muscles, loving his strength. He raised his head and smiled down at her, and she saw the need inside her reflected in his eyes.
Greater Than Rubies, a Novella inspired by the Jewel Trilogy Page 11