Doggone

by Herkert, Gabriella

  ‘‘Oh, absolutely.’’ I patted his leg. ‘‘How may I be of assistance?’’

  ‘‘We’re on silent running. The team is going to be doing a little fact gathering for me. Then we’ll see what we’ve got. For now, let’s just let things lie quiet.’’

  I stared at Jack. He was too far away to notice me, and anyway, he was practically kissing the ground at Gretchen’s feet. ‘‘I’m not that good at that part.’’

  He leaned down and kissed me. ‘‘I don’t want to mess with you,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Just you remember that.’’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Dinner seemed to last forever, although the chicken wasn’t that bad. Then again, it might have been fish. Gretchen finally finished her I-am-the-world speech, and the audience clapped politely. She smiled and waved. Very Queen of England. I watched as Charles Smiths shook her hand and kissed her cheek. The guy looked miserable. He had either a serious head cold or the mother of all allergies. I’d started counting every time he sneezed. Thirty-eight during the entrée. Seventeen during dessert alone.

  ‘‘Okay, Ryan, put on your thinking cap. We need to separate Gretchen from the guy who introduced her.’’

  ‘‘She’s a social climber. He’s a bazillionaire. You’ll need the Jaws of Life.’’

  ‘‘Try to do it without making her mad,’’ I said, sneaking a glance at Siobhan. She raised her empty wineglass and winked at me. ‘‘We’re low-key on this one.’’

  ‘‘You’re taking all the fun out of it.’’

  Ryan stared past me. People were moving around. The networking had begun. The clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation built a cocoon around our table. We needed to move fast, before Smiths or Dreznik left.

  Ryan leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. ‘‘We need a distraction. What does Gretchen need more than money?’’

  ‘‘A fashion intervention?’’ I guessed.

  ‘‘Exposure.’’

  ‘‘That’s too visual for me, Ry,’’ Connor said.

  ‘‘Check it. At Gretchen’s four o’clock. See the guy? Sixties, hair plugs, bow tie?’’ Ryan pointed.

  I put a hand on Connor’s shoulder and lifted myself half out of my chair. ‘‘Got him.’’

  ‘‘His name is Arthur Kleinschmidt. A power broker of the first order. His museum sponsored one of Mom’s exhibits a couple of years ago. He made his money in television.’’

  ‘‘So?’’

  ‘‘Think syndication.’’

  ‘‘I still don’t get it.’’

  ‘‘Gretchen loves an audience. She’s been shopping a talk show for a year. Who could make that happen with a phone call? Arthur Kleinschmidt.’’

  ‘‘Why hasn’t she hit him up already?’’

  ‘‘He won’t take her call,’’ Ryan offered. He leaned across me.

  ‘‘Duchess?’’

  She turned away from her conversation with Dougal and Siobhan. ‘‘Yes, darling.’’

  ‘‘I need a solid.’’

  ‘‘Of course. What’s a solid?’’

  ‘‘Can you get Uncle Artie to go talk to Gretchen? Maybe outside?’’

  Alyssa’s eyes moved from Ryan’s face to Connor’s to mine and back again.

  ‘‘Do I want to know why?’’

  I looked down. Beautiful. Now Connor’s mom would know we were up to something.

  ‘‘Not so much,’’ Ryan replied.

  ‘‘Okay, then.’’ Alyssa rose. ‘‘But it will have to wait a few minutes. Your sister has had too much wine and I’d like to put her in a cab first.’’

  All I needed was for Siobhan to flash some society-set camera guy while getting into a taxi drunk.

  ‘‘Let me.’’ I stood up and moved over to Siobhan’s side.

  ‘‘I need to go to the ladies’ room first,’’ she said, swaying a little.

  I took her arm. ‘‘Okay, but then you need to go home.’’

  ‘‘I’m not drunk.’’

  ‘‘Of course not.’’

  She straightened and looked straight at me. ‘‘I’m not. I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine, but I’m not drunk.’’

  ‘‘I believe you, but the combination of alcohol and commando is really the advanced course. I wouldn’t want you to try too much too soon.’’

  She laughed, then snorted. I was turning his sister into a lush. Of course, if I were married to Jack, I’d pickle myself, too.

  ‘‘It’s hard.’’ Tears filled her eyes. She shook her head roughly and they went away. ‘‘But I’m handling it. Hundreds of thousands. I can’t believe I was so stupid.’’

  ‘‘You’re not stupid.’’

  ‘‘Where did I think it was going? Joint accounts. The lawyers told me. But no, I knew he loved me. My mother never signed one. Connor would never have made Lily sign one. I bet he didn’t even ask you. Jack loved me. I didn’t need a prenup.’’

  I stopped and turned her to face me. ‘‘Oh, my God, Siobhan, are you saying Jack’s cleaned out your accounts? ’’ Probably to keep Lily in sables. The worthless bastard. The first chance I got, I was going to skim him from the gene pool.

  Siobhan put her hand over my mouth, her eyes huge. ‘‘You can’t tell them. Promise.’’

  ‘‘Siobhan, they’ll want—’’

  ‘‘They’ll want to save me. They’ll never say, ‘I told you so,’ but I’ll hear it every time I see them. It’s my problem. I will fix this.’’

  ‘‘You don’t have to do it by yourself. They love you. We’ll help you.’’

  She blinked and her eyes hardened. ‘‘I will take care of Jack. I need to pee.’’

  We pushed our way into the women’s lounge area. The rich were different. They didn’t have lines in the women’s restroom.

  Siobhan and I took stalls.

  ‘‘I am taking a stand,’’ Siobhan called from the end of the hall.

  ‘‘Uh, that’s good.’’

  I flushed and left the stall.

  ‘‘Well, if it isn’t the little wife,’’ Lily said, meeting my eyes in the mirror. I lifted my chin and took the sink next to hers. Her blond hair was pulled back, sleek and stylish. The diamond necklace was undoubtedly real. It matched the ring. Not as well as her dress matched mine. Actually, standing this close, we clashed. Go figure.

  ‘‘Nice dress,’’ I commented.

  She looked down her nose at me. ‘‘You don’t think Connor is going to confuse us, do you?’’ She put a hand on her hip and gave me a toothpaste smile. ‘‘I’m surprised you didn’t go home to change. Not that it would matter, but perhaps you wouldn’t seem so—’’

  ‘‘Happily married?’’ I offered, turning off the sink.

  ‘‘Pathetic.’’ Her smile didn’t dim.

  ‘‘Because we’re wearing the same dress?’’

  Her gray eyes hardened. ‘‘It’s not the same. This is an original.’’

  ‘‘Not that original.’’ I dried my hands. Two women walked into the bathroom. They looked at us and then at each other before heading to the facilities.

  ‘‘An experienced eye knows the difference, and believe me, the women at this event, those who are here by rights and not as the plus-one, know the difference.’’

  ‘‘I’m guessing they know the difference between an engagement ring and a wedding ring, too.’’ I took a step closer to her, forcing her to back up. ‘‘Or between a wife and a can’t-let-go ex-girlfriend.’’

  ‘‘I know you won’t believe this, Sara, but I haven’t resumed my sexual relationship with Connor’’—she raised one perfectly arched eyebrow—‘‘yet.’’

  ‘‘I do believe it. He wouldn’t have you as a gift.’’

  I shouldn’t. I knew I shouldn’t. I was getting drawn in. I could feel it. I wanted to reach out and wring her scrawny neck. I was letting her get to me. I glanced over my shoulder. Siobhan had slipped past me. Probably trying to get away from the claws. Couldn’t blame her.r />
  ‘‘I wouldn’t count on that if I were you, Shelly.’’

  I leaned very close to her. ‘‘And yet I will. Don’t worry about it, Leslie. Miss Manners says you have a year to send the wedding gift.’’

  I left her standing with her mouth open and her eyes on fire. Connor and Ryan were waiting for me in the lobby.

  ‘‘Have you seen Siobhan?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘I thought she was with you,’’ Connor replied.

  ‘‘She was, but then I ran into Lily, and when I turned around she’d bailed.’’

  ‘‘Probably just went home,’’ Ryan offered. ‘‘Sib’s never been big on confrontation.’’

  ‘‘You think?’’ I asked.

  Connor kissed my temple. ‘‘I’m sure she’s fine. She’s a big girl.’’

  Alyssa and Dougal stepped out of the shadows behind them. They were holding hands. Her hair was mussed.

  ‘‘We’re caught, Liss,’’ Dougal said.

  ‘‘We weren’t until you said something,’’ Alyssa responded, smoothing her hair and discreetly checking her lipstick in a compact mirror.

  ‘‘Oh, jeez. Get a room, people.’’ Ryan moaned. He put an arm across his face, staggering in the little hallway. ‘‘You’ll scar me for life.’’

  ‘‘One can only hope,’’ Alyssa drawled. ‘‘Art told me to tell you ten minutes. He has some radio network to buy first. The music has started. Your father has promised me a waltz.’’ She looked from Ryan to Connor to me. ‘‘What are you three up to?’’

  ‘‘Us?’’ Ryan placed a hand on his heart. Overplaying it.

  ‘‘Me?’’ Connor placed a hand on his heart.

  ‘‘Them?’’ I pointed at her sons. I was just an in-law, after all.

  Their parents laughed.

  ‘‘Terrible influence,’’ Dougal suggested. ‘‘They take after their mother. Never boring, but you should always keep bail money at the ready. Just in case.’’

  ‘‘Oh, hush, you.’’ Alyssa swatted at him. ‘‘He exaggerates. Come on. Join us in the ballroom. If you’re very good boys, I’ll embarrass each of you with only a single dance.’’

  ‘‘Maybe later, Mom,’’ Ryan demurred.

  ‘‘I knew you were up to no good.’’

  ‘‘We’re on the side of the angels. I swear. Besides, if we were misbehaving, I’m the youngest. I’ve been corrupted. ’’

  Alyssa took a long time assessing us. She exchanged a glance with her husband. With a half smile and a helpless shrug, he chose not to participate in her interrogation.

  ‘‘Ready for that spin around the floor, honey?’’ Dougal asked. ‘‘I’m feeling particularly light on my feet tonight.’’

  ‘‘As long as you’re light on mine,’’ she muttered, letting him lead her away.

  We followed them toward the vestibule. Kleinschmidt was in a cluster inside the ballroom, Gretchen, Jack, and Smiths a few feet beyond. The band was playing something waltzy. Couples swirled around the floor.

  ‘‘We need to get rid of Jack,’’ Connor said loudly above the din.

  ‘‘Oh, please, please, can I?’’ Ryan asked. He grinned. Not a happy grin. ‘‘I promise to leave a mark.’’

  ‘‘I’ve got it.’’ Connor took his BlackBerry out of his pocket and turned his back.

  ‘‘I like my idea better,’’ Ryan said.

  ‘‘Me, too.’’

  Connor turned back to us. ‘‘Five, four, three, two . . .’’

  Jack abandoned his position and stormed past us, toward the front doors.

  ‘‘What did you do?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Called Blue. He called Jack to ask if there was a reason the Lojack on his Benz was disabled.’’

  ‘‘Nice.’’ I was impressed. ‘‘Why didn’t you just call him?’’

  Ryan bonked me on the head. ‘‘Caller ID. Don’t you watch CSI?’’

  ‘‘What was I thinking?’’

  ‘‘I’m going to go and isolate Smiths. I know the couple he’s talking to right now. I’ll move them out of the way to give you some privacy. It’s better if he doesn’t immediately connect us, just in case he runs to Jack. Give me a sixty-second head start.’’

  Ryan and I checked our watches. I looked at his. He looked at mine. Then we gave thumbs-up signs. I laughed.

  ‘‘Nothing like getting on somebody’s wavelength from the start,’’ he muttered, heading off.

  ‘‘One, one thousand. Two, one thousand,’’ Ryan sing-songed in my ear.

  I rolled my eyes. Connor moved to Smiths’s side, then said something to a middle-aged woman who’d been holding court. He let himself get led away toward the far end of the room.

  ‘‘Here’s our chance.’’ Ryan put his hand on my back just as raised voices came through the open front doors from the parking lot. Raised familiar voices.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  ‘‘You worthless bastard,’’ Siobhan shouted, a weird smile on her face.

  People headed for their cars stopped to watch the show. I pushed my way forward beside Ryan. Siobhan was standing tall, her hands on her hips, facing her husband.

  ‘‘Get him, sis,’’ Ryan muttered.

  Lily popped up on the right of the circle that had formed around the couple. Shit. So much for under the radar. She was smiling. A smug smile. Having a good time. Bully for her. Connor emerged from the pack and moved forward, putting a hand on Siobhan’s shoulder. I edged closer.

  Jack was flushed but kept his voice low. ‘‘Connor,’’ Jack said quietly. ‘‘Siobhan is very upset. I honestly believe you should consider calling in a professional to help. Given my relationship with her, it would be inappropriate for me to prescribe.’’

  The jerk thought he could co-opt her own brother. Ryan took a step toward Jack, his hands clenched. I held him back.

  ‘‘Now would be a good time to leave, Reed.’’

  ‘‘Not now, Connor,’’ Siobhan challenged. She didn’t seem drunk. Her tone was conversational, maybe a little too loud. Just enough to hold the audience. ‘‘Not when Jack and I have finally discovered honesty. Jack honestly believes I need a shrink. I honestly believe that I have had enough shrinks to last me a lifetime. There’s you.’’ Siobhan pointed at Jack. ‘‘There’s your penis.’’ Her finger pointed lower.

  A woman behind me gasped. I looked at Ryan. Past the point of no return. I stepped back and let Siobhan have him. Too late to fix this now.

  ‘‘I’m sure you already know this, Lily, but that impotence thing is a real drag. Nothing worse than a small dog who’s a legend strictly in his own mind.’’

  Well, that was one cat out of the bag. I wondered how long she’d known that Lily was one of Jack’s little distractions. Lily’s picture-perfect image had started to smear around the edges. Smug had become frozen as she looked around the crowd. Not enjoying it so much now.

  ‘‘Technically, I suppose that’s a delusion,’’ Siobhan said. ‘‘You should get some help with that, Jack. Based on our relationship, it would be inappropriate for me to suggest you get help from someone other than your oedipal partner, Gretchen, but, frankly, I think you need someone to prescribe. Well, look who’s decided to join us.’’

  Gretchen stormed into the crowd. People jumped to get out of her path.

  ‘‘Jackson, bring the car around,’’ Gretchen ordered.

  ‘‘Oedipal. That’s the right term, isn’t it, Gretch?’’ Siobhan asked. ‘‘All those years married to your little’’—Siobhan winked at a man near her elbow—‘‘and I mean little—protégé, I was bound to learn something.’’

  ‘‘Dignity clearly wasn’t it,’’ Gretchen said frostily.

  ‘‘Hey,’’ I began, but stopped when Siobhan held up a hand. Ryan moved to stand behind her but stayed silent. I caught Connor’s eye behind Gretchen.

  ‘‘There’s no dignity in letting people walk all over you. Jack abused my trust. He lied. He cheated. He stole. I’m not letting him do it anymore.’’ Siobhan moved to stand
inches from Gretchen. Siobhan’s face was flushed and her voice was even. ‘‘I’m not letting you do it anymore, either. I’m not afraid for my friends to know. I haven’t done anything wrong and I’m not going to hide in corners like I have. Not for him, and not for you.’’

  ‘‘You go, girl,’’ a woman’s voice called from near the doors.

  ‘‘Amen,’’ Ryan shouted.

  ‘‘I’m sure your parents won’t be pleased that you’ve made such a scene.’’ Gretchen signaled to the bookends and made to leave.

  ‘‘I can’t speak for my parents, but I’m damned proud of her,’’ Connor said, putting an arm around Siobhan’s shoulders and hugging her close.

  ‘‘Me, too,’’ Ryan said, putting his arm around Siobhan’s waist.

  ‘‘I haven’t known her long enough to be entitled to pride,’’ I said, stepping forward. Gretchen spun to face me. ‘‘But I wouldn’t mess with her if I were you. She’s tough. And she’s got friends.’’

  Gretchen was nearly purple. She snapped her fingers at the grad students and left. I glimpsed movement in the gloom of the parking lot. Yep. Applause, more enthusiastic than the polite bit Gretchen’s speech had generated, followed her into the night. Siobhan wavered for an instant.

  Lily stormed forward. ‘‘I can’t believe you just let her humiliate herself in that way, Connor.’’

  It took a second for the dresses side by side to capture the crowd’s attention. Once they did, the hum grew loud.

  ‘‘That color doesn’t do a thing for you,’’ Ryan said a little loudly. ‘‘And it’s downright pathetic the way you keep trying to upstage Sara. Connor married her. Pretend all you want, you can’t be her.’’

  Lily gaped at me, her face drained of color.

  ‘‘Maybe you could take it back,’’ I suggested.

  Lily’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. She glared at all of us, turned on her heel, and stormed off.

  ‘‘Gretchen might do good work, but that woman is a real harridan,’’ an old woman said next to me. She held out a hand. ‘‘Gerta. Gerta Hoffner. I’m an old friend of their grandmother’s.’’

  ‘‘Sara.’’

  ‘‘Siobhan will bring you to tea.’’ She walked to Siobhan and patted her cheek. ‘‘And you can do better than the small dog.’’