Private Indiscretions

by Susan Crosby

  “I knew something was up. I knew it. I even asked Dana if—” She clamped her mouth shut.

  Her hurt that Dana hadn’t confided in her was palpable.

  “Lilith.”

  She looked at him, her expression wiped clean of emotion.

  “Dana told me you don’t like me much. I accept that.” He leaned closer to the car. “But you can trust me. I’m only interested in getting to the truth and protecting Dana. I’ll do what it takes.”

  “I can’t tell you anything, Sam. I’m sorry.”

  Can’t or won’t? She wasn’t guilt free, but guilty of what?

  “You need to leave now,” she said.

  He straightened. “I’ll see you tonight at the banquet.”

  Her surprise lasted only a second, then she nodded.

  He retraced his steps to his car, noting that she didn’t leave hers until he was pulling away. He added one more name to his list: Lilith. How could he tell Dana that?

  Fourteen

  Dana loved formal banquets. Loved the sound of silverware clinking against china, the smell of floral perfumes mingling with musk, the sight of beautiful garments and glittering jewelry and tuxedos, the feel of a handshake, whether limp or bone crushing, clueing her in to someone’s personality. Laughter always punctuated a low buzz of nonstop conversation until a gavel sounded or a bell rang. She loved it all. But then, she also liked potluck dinners and county fairs. You can take the girl out of the country…

  Randall had called her his secret weapon at his fund-raising events because she so obviously enjoyed attending. As a team they could work an entire room, even during a short event. She’d always been proud of what she’d brought to him, not only as his wife but his partner.

  The fact this evening’s banquet was a Business and Professional Women’s League event meant there were many more women than men, so the pitch level of the conversation buzz was higher and the fare lighter. Tonight’s offering featured puff pastry–wrapped salmon with capers and herbs, rice pilaf and steamed vegetables. Over dinner Dana chatted with the president of the BPWL to her right and the recipient of the Small Businesswoman of the Year Award to her left. On the far side of the president sat Claire Cavanagh, an Emmy Award–winning actress who played the CEO of a Wall Street brokerage firm on a popular nighttime soap opera. Dana had no illusions about who was the bigger draw to this event. Most women admired Claire’s portrayal of a high-powered woman succeeding in a man’s world.

  Dana cherished the company of women, particularly bright, smart, forward-thinking women like these. She almost relaxed for a while.

  Sam had been quiet on the drive to the hotel venue. She’d asked him if he’d discovered anything, but his reply was a noncommittal “Still working on it.”

  Since he hadn’t kept her out of the speculation loop before, she was baffled by his silence. While she mingled during the cocktail hour, he huddled with Nate and Arianna, examining the three notes once more, then Sam said something emphatic, stabbing at the notes, and Arianna nodded and Nate looked unconvinced. All three surveyed the room constantly. Soon they separated. Dana knew they were connected by a high-tech communications system.

  She thought it was overkill. The threats hadn’t indicated a potential for physical harm. Although not obvious, the place was crawling with security provided by the hotel, standard for events like these, and it seemed like enough, but Sam didn’t want to involve them unless it became necessary, which was fine with Dana. Usually an aide accompanied her, referred to as her “body guy,” but even he had been left out of the picture this time.

  Her presentation of Lilith’s award would be last. Dana had condensed her speech to a one-page outline, and before dinner she tucked the folder containing the outline in the shelf under the podium so she wouldn’t have to carry it from her seat, always an awkward moment. It had been fun reminiscing about growing up with Lilith.

  The speeches began. A local comedienne warmed up the crowd then gave the Image Award to the actress Claire Cavanagh for her skill in presenting a successful businesswoman in a favorable light—if you disregarded her character’s four marriages and most recent affair with her stepson. The show was a soap opera, after all, the comedienne reminded everyone, and Claire’s role as a television CEO was still one to emulate.

  After Dana was introduced, she made her way to the podium, smiling at Lilith as she retrieved her folder and opened it. The top sheet wasn’t her outline but a note on the same heavyweight cream-colored stationery as the three previous letters.

  Last chance, the note read.

  He was here. In this room. Now. He’d seen her put her folder in the podium. Watched her. Was stalking her.

  Dana sought Sam in the darkened wings. “I’m a little embarrassed to say this,” she said into the mike, her eyes on him, “but I gave my reading glasses to a friend for safekeeping and forgot to get them back.” It was their agreed-upon I-need-you-right-now alert.

  Sam came across the stage, his strides long and quick. Forcing a smile, she discreetly passed him the note. He read it then indicated with a nod that she should continue with her speech, at the same time taking out her glasses from his inside pocket and handing them to her. He walked away a little more slowly. Dana made a point of watching him.

  “Actually, I didn’t forget them,” she added with a wink to the audience, even though she felt far from flirtatious. “I just wanted to watch him walk away.” Sam played the game by looking over his shoulder at her and grinning, shifting the audience’s response from laughter to applause with hoots and hollers. If anyone wondered whether the news photo had captured a romantic relationship between them or just old friends from the same hometown comforting each other at a funeral, they wouldn’t be wondering now.

  Dana put on her glasses, unnecessary with the large font she’d used to type the notes. “Good evening. I’m so pleased to have been invited to present this award tonight, especially since I didn’t have to research the recipient before writing her introduction. You see, I met Lilith Perry the summer before seventh grade, just after she moved with her family to my hometown of Miner’s Camp. Because the start of the new school year was three months away, she needed to figure out a plan to meet new friends right then. She decided to take a page out of the comic strips and set up a booth in her front yard that she hoped would draw people to her. Her sign read, Advice: twenty-five cents.”

  Laughter rippled through the room.

  Dana took off her glasses and held them, making her next words seem unplanned. “Your fee’s gone up a little since then.”

  Again, there was laughter as Lilith toasted her.

  “As I recall,” Dana continued, “your logo was a rendering of the classic theater masks, except you used those yellow-and-black smiley faces, one smiling, one frowning.”

  She faced the audience again and waited for them to quiet. Where are you, coward?

  “The result was glaring but admittedly eye-catching. I saw the sign from my mom’s car as we drove to the grocery store. On the way back, I made Mom drop me off at Lilith’s house.

  “I was her first client.”

  What are you waiting for? A better time to embarrass me? You have everyone’s attention right now.

  “You see, I was desperate to know how to get John Carruthers away from Jenny Packard. I couldn’t ask my mom because she was, like, old. I couldn’t ask my only cousin because he was a guy, and therefore, like, ignorant.”

  The teenage lament brought smiles. Dana had to consciously form hers.

  “So I took my this-is-surely-the-end-of-the-world problem to Lilith, laid it on the card table for her, desperation in my voice, my need for him like potato chips and soda to my survival. I wanted John Carruthers. I wanted him bad.”

  She paused for laughter, her stomach churning. The anticipation was killing her.

  “Lilith listened. Pondered. Then spoke like the Dalai Lama on the tip top of a mountain, intoning his wisdom—‘Grow breasts,’ she said.”

 
As the audience roared she saw Nate stick his head through a door and gesture to Arianna, who hurried to join him in the outer reception area. Sam didn’t budge from his post. He stood like a Secret Service agent, constantly scanning. She knew he’d planted himself at the best vantage for a lone person to view the crowd, if necessary.

  Dana needed a sip of water but decided her hand would shake too much. She went on. “Anyone who’s listened to Lilith’s radio program knows she’s still giving that same unflinching advice.

  “What many people don’t know is how much she gives to the community.” She slipped on her glasses again, using the prop she’d made a point of needing, then listed Lilith’s many accomplishments, ending with, “She hosts her own talk show five days a week and many times has been known to stay on the line with a desperate caller after the show ends.”

  “And now she must have discovered she has too much free time on her hands, so she decided to have a baby to pick up the slack.”

  Dana came to the end of her speech. What would that end bring?

  She lifted the cut-crystal award shaped like a fire’s flame.

  “It is my honor and privilege to present this year’s Cass Schroeder Award for exceptional service to the community to my best friend and all-around good person, Dr. Lilith Perry Paul.”

  The audience came to its feet. Dana almost dropped the award as she passed it. Lilith struggled with it as well. As the people on the stage gasped, Claire Cavanagh raced forward to steady Lilith, then took the award and set it on the table beside the podium, making a joke that sounded as if it came from an echo chamber, as did the laughter.

  Dana caught Lilith watching her with an expression more serious than Dana had ever seen in all their years as friends.

  Lilith touched her hand. “Dana—”

  “Shh.” She wanted to scream, the pressure was unbearable. The blackmailer had so little time left to make his accusations in a public forum—Lilith’s acceptance speech, closing remarks from the BPWL president, then it would be over.

  Screaming not being an option, Dana hugged her friend a little harder then returned to her seat. She didn’t hear Lilith’s talk, only the words she emphasized about giving back, serving, self-satisfaction. About education, fulfilling work, a supportive husband and good friends.

  Dana watched Sam. Her heart thundered in her ears. She was aware of Lilith taking her seat again and the president returning to the podium, but heard nothing except an incessant pounding. Then Sam was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. He bent low. It must have seemed like a loving gesture to anyone watching.

  Was it over? Had it been a cruel joke someone had played? A hoax?

  “Nothing happened,” she whispered, confused.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said quietly.

  Dazed, she stood. He put his arm around her waist, for which she was grateful. Then as they were about to walk by Lilith, he cupped her elbow and said, “Come with us, please.”

  “What’s going on?” Lilith asked. She scanned the area. “Where’s Jonathan?”

  “He’ll be along shortly.”

  Were they both in danger? Dana wondered. Was it Harley, after all? It was the only common denominator Dana could think of between her and Lilith.

  Sam took them into what appeared to be an empty storage room and closed the door.

  “Lilith needs a chair, Sam,” Dana said.

  He tipped his head back and swore, making her jump. “Even now she thinks of you first,” he all but shouted to Lilith.

  “What—” Dana looked from Sam to Lilith. “What’s going on?”

  “Are you going to own up? Or shall I tell her?” When Lilith said nothing, Sam pulled out the four blackmail notes and handed them to her. “They’re typed in the same font you used for the invitations to the party you threw for Dana’s election—on the same damn paper—that Dana has framed in her sitting room.”

  Disbelief and horror spread through Dana like bad whiskey, burning, nauseating. “No,” she said. “No.”

  Lilith stared at the notes for a lot longer than it took to read them. She put her shoulders back and turned to Dana, looking belligerent and devastated at the same time. “I’m so sorry—”

  “No! It’s impossible.” She grabbed Sam. “You’re wrong. You’re so wrong. Lilith would never do this to me. If she had a problem she would come to me… You would come to me, right?” Dana whispered, facing her friend.

  Tears brightened Lilith’s eyes. “Harley threatened to expose my drug use, not just the marijuana but the other things, too. He wanted two things to keep quiet—money and for me to convince you not to run for office again. He’s got all his hopes tied up in another candidate, one who promises to help him. He knew if you ran you would win. He’s about bankrupt, you know.” The words poured out of her without a breath, so that she was panting at the end.

  “That’s a lie,” Sam said. “I had him checked out.”

  “Well, he told me he was. How was I to know any differently? The money meant little in comparison to what having my past exposed would mean for my career.”

  Dana’s world had righted itself at last and she could think. “I do know what it would mean. I also know your heart. You would never do this to me,” she said, positive of her words. She stepped closer to Lilith. “Jonathan, maybe. But not you.”

  They stared at each other. Lilith trembled. Dana gripped her arms to steady them both.

  “Did you know what he was doing?” Please say no. Please—

  “In his own way he was trying to protect me,” she whispered, not making eye contact, her voice shaking as much as her body.

  She knew? Hurt sped through Dana in liquid fire, incinerating what remained of her innocence, her belief in basic human goodness. She watched the person she’d shared so much of her life with become a stranger. A pregnant stranger, she reminded herself.

  “She needs a chair,” Dana repeated over her shoulder to Sam, who with obvious reluctance left the room. “Tell me, Lilith.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Harley came to me after the reunion threatening to tell the tabloids what happened that night in your car and what else he knew.”

  “How did he know about it?”

  “I bought the stuff from a friend of his. He made it his business to know. He probably didn’t imagine I would go to Jonathan with his threat, but there’s nothing I don’t share with my husband. I’m where I am now because of him, professionally and personally.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose.

  “I told Jonathan I would tell my listeners myself before I’d let Harley leak it to the world. And I certainly didn’t want to involve you.”

  But you did involve me. Dana was so confused. “Were you really sick?”

  “Yes! Worried sick. That was no game. Dana, I kept asking you if something was going on. You were acting so strangely, but you kept denying there was anything happening, so I finally decided it was just me projecting onto you or this fling with Sam, or whatever that relationship is. Then Sam came to my house today and asked if Harley was blackmailing me. I couldn’t figure out how he knew until he said that you were being blackmailed. He thought it was Harley, but I knew it had to be Jonathan. I’m not apologizing for him, Dana, but I understand the way his mind works. He would do anything to protect me. Anything. Haven’t you ever been desperate?”

  “Yes. Ever since I got the first letter.” She ignored Lilith’s flinch. “I thought someone had some horrible secret that would tarnish Randall’s name forever. But whatever that secret was, I wouldn’t have covered it up if it meant hurting someone innocent.”

  “I didn’t know,” Lilith insisted. “I didn’t put it together until Sam planted the idea in my head. I immediately accused Jonathan. He didn’t deny it. He said he figured it was worth a shot. He didn’t have anything on Randall, you know. Did anyone? But he thought it might provoke you into announcing your decision, one way or the other, so that we would know where we stood. That’s all he wanted,
for you to make your decision public.”

  “So, because he didn’t have any intention of following through on the threat he sent to me, that makes it okay?”

  “No. Of course not. I’m not trying to justify what he did, only telling you why he did it.”

  Where was Sam with that chair?

  “Did you ever consider coming to me, Lilith? Telling me what was going on? Did you think I wouldn’t have helped?”

  She looked at Dana as if she’d lost her mind. “After what you did before—taking the blame for me? Being taken to the police station? Standing before the chief? Lying to your parents? Going to the rehab classes? I was already in your debt. How could I ask anything of you?”

  “Because we were friends.” As far as Dana was concerned, that said it all.

  “Were?” Lilith repeated, panic in her eyes.

  “I understand you didn’t know what Jonathan was doing until today. But there was today, Lilith. You could have told me today.”

  “I thought it was over, that Jonathan had given up.” Fresh tears glistened. “I decided that confessing to you would cause more harm than good, that once the deadline came and went you would chalk it up to someone’s awful idea of a joke and forget about it. Yes, it was the coward’s way out, but you’ve never cared for Jonathan….” Her voice trailed off, as if she saw the absurdity of what she was saying.

  When she spoke again, her voice was calm. “I had no idea he was going to plant that note tonight. He must have hoped it would be your final straw, that you would announce your decision out of fear tonight.” Lilith squeezed Dana’s arms. “If he’d asked me I would’ve told him you were too strong to give in to threats.”

  Dana pulled back. “Just as Sam didn’t talk to me about his suspicions about you. I would’ve convinced him he was wrong, too.”

  Lilith ventured a smile. “How is it that two such independent women are attracted to such protective men? We don’t need taking care of, do we?”

  Dana found no returning smile to give her. “You’re the psychologist. You tell me.”

  “I’m afraid of the answer.” She took a step away. Her hands settled protectively over her belly. “I’m going to tell my radio audience about my past. I hope they understand why I’ve never said anything before. But if they don’t, I’ll live with it. My life will still be full.”