“Well, selfishly, it’s awesome for me, ’cause you can come over all the time now. Much better than just texting to keep in touch. And I hope the move will be what you want for you too,” I add, still trying to figure out her impulsive decision, wondering what Andrew will say about it. “And at some point, I want to hear all about this mystery man.”
Tessa comes over. “I hate to break up this chat, but we’ve got the first game to play.”
“Fabulous.” I take Mari’s hand. “I’m afraid of the Play-Doh. Don’t let them do terrible things to me.”
She laughs, a big, open-mouthed laugh. “Only if I’m helping!”
The party moves along at a nice tempo, with Tessa running the guests through several ridiculous games (the Play-Doh was to make a model of the baby, which resulted in ludicrous sculptures). Tessa got a doughnut pyramid, made from blue-and-pink-frosted Voodoo Doughnuts she had FedExed in from Portland. She knows we always try to stop there when we’re headed to the coast from Boise.
We open presents, and of course there’s plenty of oohing and aahing over adorable little outfits.
The boys—all of them—are scarce. Andrew piled everybody into the car and took them miniature golfing. Even Jeremy went with, though thankfully he’s not living with us anymore.
Mom comes over with a big box. “This last one is from me and your dad. We never thought we’d be welcoming another grandbaby into the world—not from you, at least.” Mom’s always hopeful that my brother will give her more grandchildren, but he and his girlfriend are currently traveling in Southeast Asia, and the chances look slimmer with every grand trip they take.
I pull the blue and pink wrapping paper off the box and lift the lid.
It’s a sage green quilt. “Mom, it’s beautiful.” She made quilts for both of the boys too.
“I wish it didn’t have to be green, but oh well.” She hasn’t been keen on not knowing the sex of the baby.
I give her a big kiss. “Thank you, Mom.” Other guests applaud. It’s the last big gift. People begin to drift away from the circle of chairs and loungers Tessa has set up. Some wander into the house, or over to the snack and drink table.
Mom lingers, takes my hand. “Oh, Bug. It’s been so wonderful having you in town. I know the boys will want to go back to school in Boise, but maybe with Andrew’s career, you could make LA your second home.” She sounds hopeful. She’s always wished we could live in the same town.
“We’ll see, Mom. I’ve stopped trying to predict the future. It never seems to want to go the way that I plan it.” I give her a smooch on the cheek.
Tessa appears. “Just a couple more cards, and you can be done with this ordeal.” She hands me two thick envelopes.
“It’s been much less painful than I thought. Thank you, Tessa. Honestly. You’re great to do this.”
She waves me off. “Anything for the baby mama.”
I open the first envelope. It’s a gift certificate for a massage from my auntie in Tennessee.
Mom sighs in relief. “Thank goodness. She was sure it wouldn’t make it in the mail in time. I’m going to go in the house and call and tell her.” She gets up and goes in.
I’m left with one more envelope. Tessa and I sit together in the loungers, our feet up. This envelope has no return address, but it came to the house yesterday. On the back someone’s stuck an “Open on Shower Day” label, complete with blue and pink balloons. I tear it open.
It’s a greeting card. It looks as though it had a picture of a teddy bear on a horse on the front of it. But it’s been carefully blacked out. The whole image is black.
And inside is a folded-up piece of stationery. I unfold it. It’s a letter. In a hand I don’t know. I read:
To Whom It May Concern:
Or, to the Lady in His Bed:
You probably want to go on your merry way, live your merry life. Don’t assume that the bells aren’t tolling for you, or for him, for that matter.
My hands go cold. I can feel my expression fall.
“What is it?” Tessa looks at me.
“I don’t know yet. A letter. Let me finish it.”
Insinuation isn’t pretty. A vine, even a pretty flowering one, even a morning glory, is still a parasite, and when evening comes, closes its eye to the dark.
When the host is sucked dry, when you take his vitality and plant it elsewhere, who is left at the harvest?
Think about worth and worthiness. You cheapen something, you wash that value away. Temptation is then followed, and you destroy who you seek, who you want so very badly. So think on it: you reap what you sow. What you are, you turn him to. Gold turns to brass. All things float away, washed away in your cheap, ceaseless current.
Note it.
I sit still for a minute, and then I crumple up the letter.
“What the hell was it? Why do you look that way, Kelly?”
“It was a letter written by some crazy freak. And it’s not worth upsetting anyone over.” I toss it into the pile of shredded wrapping paper.
I’m surprised, because I would’ve predicted that I’d get a letter like this and be terrified.
No, I’m just pissed.
We’ve had a calm, enjoyable life out here. Three months of almost-normal existence. Sure, the boys aren’t in school, but Devon, the tutor, he’s been great. And I feel better, swimming every day. And Andrew’s shoulder is mostly healed. There hasn’t been the frenzy we felt in New York.
He’s busy, but life has been good.
Now this.
I stand up. “Let’s go in and say goodbye to the guests. I know some people are getting ready to leave.”
“Aren’t you going to do anything with that?” Tessa stoops over to pick up the card with the blacked out front, the folded letter.
“Leave it. It’s meaningless. I refuse to give it any power over me or my family.”
“What?” Andrew walks up from behind us. Shit. He’s going to freak out.
“A dumb anonymous letter. From someone who thinks they’re all literary and deep.”
Tessa does pick it up now, hands it to Andrew.
He scans it and looks up into my eyes.
I don’t waver. I refuse to panic. I won’t let someone do that to me again.
He nods. I think he can read me pretty loud and clear. “Okay. I’ll let Tucker see it.”
I speak up. My voice sounds loud, confident. Hearing it makes me feel stronger. “Tomorrow. Don’t give it any more weight than that. Fear is only fear when you allow it to be.”
He pulls me to him, kisses the top of my head. “I agree. For now, I have the rest of a doughnut pyramid to eat.”
Tessa shakes a finger at him. “Shirtless, tomorrow at eight am.”
“You two are such nags, I swear.”
She punches him on the arm.
And life returns to normal, at least for now.
31: Poison Ivy
WE SURVIVED THE BABY SHOWER, and now, a week later, I have to survive The Ivy.
Jeremy and The Ivy. You’d think Mr. Hip Agent Guy would have nothing to do with such a Hollywood cliché. The Ivy was the place to be seen probably twenty years ago. And the inside looks like Laura Ashley threw up. Stars who want to be sure US or People get a good shot of their toned asses in their yoga pants sit out on the terrace, in full view of the street and God and everybody.
I don’t want to sit outside, and when J texts, I tell him as much. He says okay, probably because of Tucker’s high alert. I suspect Tucker will pass along the letter Kelly got at the shower to law enforcement, and his vigilance has notched back up. Jeremy respects that. He can tell when Tucker is worried.
And The Ivy, besides being so frilly, is so high visibility, he couldn’t have thought it was a good idea. It had to have been someone else’s.
I see the someone else as Janus and I pull up to the front of the restaurant. Amanda. Jeremy is so very close to snagging her as a client. After seeing her on the run in the hills, I haven’t seen or heard anyt
hing more from her. I wish she’d hurry up and sign with him. He asked about the trouble with her, asked what my “comfort level” was if he took her on as a client. I told him it was fine. There’s no reason for my troubles with an ex to keep him from a major deal. Once he had my okay, he’s been relentless. He’s like a nervous little dog, all yippy and trembling. He might even pee a little on the carpet when he sees her next.
As Janus lets me off out front, I chuckle to myself at that thought.
“What’s so funny?” Amanda stands on the picket fence-lined patio.
“I’m hysterical. You missed it.”
She puts a cheek out to me, to be air-kissed. A photographer on the sidewalk snaps away behind us. I ignore both of them. She probably called him and told him we’d be here. “Was the joke at my expense?”
“Surprisingly, no. All Jeremy this time. Where is he?”
She points a long shiny nail inside.
“You’re not having lunch with us, are you?”
“Oh, God no. My two favorite men, it’s tempting, but I just had Jeremy drop some papers to my lawyer. My lawyer and I were here for brunch. Jeremy wasn’t invited.”
“I’m not one of your ‘men.’”
“Whatever.” She tosses her head like she doesn’t care. The photographer snaps her picture. Another paparazzo parks his scooter at the curb, pulls out his long lens, ready to join in. “And tell Jeremy to stop texting me—it makes him smell desperate. I don’t do desperate.”
I nod and get inside, done with the photographers and Amanda. Poor Jeremy. I hope she doesn’t get her claws into him in any way other than business. He hasn’t earned hearts and flowers, but he deserves at least a couple steps up from female praying mantis biting his head off.
I weave through the floral arrangements and wicker chairs and people trying to wave me down and find Jeremy sitting at a table covered in a pineapple tablecloth, pineapple plates, and pitchers full of petunias and geraniums. He sneezes.
“Sit down, for Christ’s sake, before I go into anaphylactic shock. I need a Benadryl.”
“Amanda’s playing cat and mouse with you. You don’t need her as a client this bad. Since when do you meet her lawyer here to drop off paperwork? You’re not her errand boy.”
“I know.” He yanks a red and white checked pillow from behind his back and tosses it on the ground.
“But what?”
“I had a very big carrot to dangle, and I’m not talking about my own generous anatomy.”
“You need to quit with the overcompensating talk. We’ve talked about this before. You’ve clearly got an inferiority complex.”
“I’m blowing off that burn. I have a four-page spread and cover for her in a certain fashion mag if she signs with me.”
“Which one?” He’s good. She might take that bait.
He looks for a napkin to write on. The only one he comes up with has big roses on it. He gives up and leans forward. “Editor likes sunglasses. A lot. Might have a movie about her, one with devils and fashion brands.”
“Anna Wintour. Vogue. I get it.”
He looks around. “Hey, let’s not let the bob-haired cat out of the bag.”
“You’re too paranoid.” I look desperately for a waiter. I need an iced tea and something to eat.
“Speaking of paranoid, what’s new at Casa Pettigrew?”
“Kelly got a letter.”
“What?”
“Someone sent her a letter, sent it to the house, which means someone knows we’re staying there.”
“That’s definitely stalky. What’d it say?”
“It was pretty bizarre. I think the message was to keep a close watch on me. It mentioned temptation. And the letter was clear that the author doesn’t think Kelly is worthy of me.”
“Was it threatening?”
“Kind of. Tucker hasn’t decided if he’s going to pass it along to the FBI or not.”
“Whatever he decides, keep me posted.”
“I will. So, why did I have to be here?”
“I didn’t care where we ate, and I was already meeting her here. No offense, but you’re a done deal. I don’t go back for seconds on meals I’ve already had, so impressing you with some hip restaurant wasn’t a priority.”
“I’m your client. Not a conquest. And we’ve been together for nine years, so you’re more old married man than one-night-stand material. You like to think you’re all sex and danger and trampolines, but you’re one step away from twin beds.”
“This metaphor is all sorts of used up.” Jeremy looks in danger of sneezing again for a moment. “I don’t get why Amanda was still out front when you got here, though. We were all finished. She could have left.”
“That’s weird.” I nod. “Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“Kind of. She does get an odd look when she mentions you.”
“Odd?”
“I don’t know. I think she’s waiting for you to get tired of Miss Idaho Home. Thinks you’ll end up back in her bed.”
“But you know I’m never doing that.”
“I know that, but she doesn’t. I don’t know. Amanda’s always been a little crazy. She drove that one producer’s car into the swimming pool when he dumped her, remember that?”
“I guess. I don’t like this conversation. You’re telling me she’s nuts and that she hung around waiting for me to show up today. I don’t think that feels right. And you know what I think?”
“What?”
“I still think she’s capable of all this shit someone’s been doing to my family. Maybe I should go.”
“I think you should tell Tucker again what you think about her. And not give her one inkling that you might suspect her, so stay put. She could still be out there.”
He may have a point. I don’t get up.
“While she preens and poses for whatever slimeball with a camera is out on the curb, let’s talk about your little indie Leave No Trace movie. How’s the shoot going?”
I’m formulating an answer when the fire alarm goes off. “Saved by the bell.” I hop up, happy to be done.
“We’re not through with this discussion. I want you to work this movie into two more after we’re done with Flat Rock. At least three of the exec producers you could get a commit out of. You gotta make hay while the sun shines, my friend.”
“Weird. Someone else said that to me not too long ago. I get it, J. I do.”
We move to the fire exit, and we’re about to walk out when Jeremy grabs me.
“Don’t.” He pulls me away from the door and shows me his phone. There’s a text from Tucker.
Come to the house. There’s been a break-in.
“What the hell?” I check my phone. Tucker’s text pops on my screen too.
“We’ll take my car. Let’s go out the back way.” Jeremy leads us out through the kitchen to the back alley.
“I don’t like any of this, Jeremy. Someone’s put a target on my back.”
“Tucker’ll get to the bottom of it. He needs to send that letter to the FBI.”
We make it to his car. Janus runs up behind us. “You two need to get in and clear the area.”
“Now what?”
“Fire alarm was pulled from a pull station at the front of the building. I left the car to check on the situation. It was a false pull, so I went back to the car.”
“And what?” Jeremy has the driver’s door open.
Janus puts a hand on his shoulder. His lips are set in a firm line. “And the tires were slashed.”
“Jesus. Jeremy, let Janus drive.”
Jeremy hands him the keys. He doesn’t say a word. He’s never at a loss for words. He is now.
I break out in a cold sweat.
32: The Fear
FIVE MINUTES AGO, everything was normal.
The boys and I piled out of the car, Tucker handing the boys bags of groceries to carry to the front door. I was thinking about texting Mari to ask her to go on a walk with me. We’ve been trying to get toge
ther since she moved out here.
“Listen, I still say you shouldn’t drink your calories,” Tucker counseled Hunter. They’ve been lifting together, and Hunter listens to his advice. He chooses lean chicken and has been known to actually touch a green bean because of Tucker’s influence.
“I’ve decided I can’t let go of pop. I just can’t do it, Tucker. Let me have this one thing.” Hunter used his melodrama voice.
I put my key out, but the door swung open.
“Tucker.” I tried to keep my voice flat. The boys were right there with us.
He looked at me and looked at the lock. “There’s a key broken off in the lock.”
“What?” Beau looked at Tucker.
“Andrew must’ve accidentally broken his key off in the lock,” Tucker continued without missing a beat. “I’ll call the locksmith in a second. Or I know, why don’t you and the boys call from the car?”
“Sure. We’ll leave the groceries with you.” I handed him my bag.
“I can just go put them in the kitchen.” Beau made a move to the door, but Tucker grabbed him by the arm. “It’s okay, kiddo. I’ll do it.”
In the most innocuous five minutes, the world turns upside down.
Tucker texts three people right in a row. One of them is sure to be a cop. Tucker looks over him at me. I know. He’s going to sweep the house.
There might be someone in the house.
“Let’s go wait in the car, guys. Tucker might even be able to fix it without calling a locksmith.”
The boys aren’t dumb. Hunter takes one of the bags. “What’s going on?”
I swallow, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. “It’s probably nothing. Let Tucker do his job, Hunter.”
I put a hand on Beau’s shoulder and steer them both back to the car. We get in, and I wait at the wheel, looking at Tucker.
After a moment, he turns around and jogs to the car. “I’ve got someone coming. Why don’t you all go get a snack?”
I’m not leaving him here, not until there’s someone to help. “We’ll wait until someone comes to give you a hand with the lock.”
Tucker grits his teeth. “You don’t need to do that.”
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