A Perfect Stranger (22 page)
Read A Perfect Stranger Online
Authors: Danielle Steel
No. But he hated himself instantly for answering. What business was it of hers, dammit? It wasn't, and she had no right to ask.
I suppose you think that's terribly feminine, not working, I mean.
I don't think about it one way or the other. It's her business. Not mine. Or yours. And with that, he rose with his cup of coffee and looked pointedly at the three women in the room. I assume, Kay, that you came to visit your daughter, so I'll leave you two together, much as I hate to leave the child alone with you. Mother, do you want to come upstairs with your cup of tea? Charlotte Brandon nodded quietly, looked searchingly at her daughter and then her grandchild, and followed her son out of the room. It wasn't until they got upstairs that she saw him relax again. Christ, Mother, what the hell does she think she's doing with that inquisition of hers?
Don't let it bother you. She's just checking you out.
Christ, she's unbearable. Charlotte Brandon said nothing in answer, but she was clearly upset.
I hope she isn't too hard on Mandy. I thought she looked terribly upset when Kay came into the room.
Didn't we all. He stared into the fire with a distant look in his eyes. He was thinking of Raphaella, and wished she hadn't left when she did. But after her having been faced with Kay's interrogation he was just as glad she was gone.
It was fully an hour later when Amanda knocked on the door of her uncle's den. Her eyes were damp and she looked exhausted as she sat down heavily in a chair.
How'd it go, sweetheart? He patted her hand and her eyes filled with tears.
The way it always goes with her. Shitty. And then with another desperate sigh, She just left. She said she'd call us tomorrow.
I can hardly wait. Alex looked rueful and reached out to rumple his niece's hair. Don't let her get to you, love. You know how she is, and there isn't a damn thing she can do to you here.
Oh, no? Amanda looked suddenly irate. She told me that if I didn't come home by the beginning of March she was going to have me put away in some kind of institution and claim that I was out of my mind and had run away.
What's happening in March? Alex looked troubled, but not as much as his niece thought he should.
She's going to start campaigning around the colleges after that. She wants me to come along. She thinks that if they think she can relate to a sixteen-year-old then she can relate to them. They should only know! Christ, I'd rather be locked up in an institution. But when she turned to him, her eyes looked ten years old. Do you really think she'd do that, Alex?
Of course not. He smiled at his niece. How do you think that would look in the papers? Hell, it looks a lot better to have you out here.
I didn't think about that.
That's what she counted on. She's just trying to scare you.
Well, she did. She thought then about telling Alex that she had told her mother on the phone about Raphaella, but for some reason she just couldn't bring herself to broach the subject, and maybe the fact that she'd thrown Raphaella in her mother's teeth wouldn't matter that much after all.
As it happened, it didn't. Until five o'clock that morning when Kay woke up slowly in her bed at the Fairmont Hotel. It was eight o'clock in the morning, by eastern time, and she awoke as she always did, out of habit, only to realize that in San Francisco it was only five A.M. She lay there quietly, thinking about Amanda and her brother, and then thinking about Raphaella' the dark eyes' the black hair' that face. And suddenly, as though someone had put the photograph before her, she remembered the face she had seen the night before. My God, she said it aloud and sat up brusquely, staring at the far wall, and then lying down again, her eyes narrow. Could it' it couldn't ' but it could' . Her husband had come to address some special congressional committee. It had been years before, and he had already been a very old man, but one of the most respected financiers in the country, and she remembered distinctly now that he had made San Francisco his home. She had spoken to him only briefly and had been introduced, for only a moment, to his remarkably beautiful young wife. She had been scarcely more than a child bride then, and Kay had been fairly young herself. She hadn't been particularly impressed with the dark-eyed young beauty, but she had been overwhelmed by the power and intensity of the man. John Henry Phillips' Phillips' Raphaella Phillips, Alex had told her' her ex-husband, he had said. And if that was the case, the girl was probably worth a bundle. If she had divorced John Henry Phillips, she could be worth millions. Or could she? Had she divorced him? Kay found herself suddenly wondering. She hadn't heard about a divorce. She waited an hour then and called her secretary in Washington.
It would be easy to get the information, she figured . And she was right. Her secretary called her back half an hour later. As far as anyone knew and she had spoken to several people who should have had the information John Henry Phillips was still alive and had never been divorced. He had been a widower for several years and was married to a Frenchwoman now, by the name of Raphaella, the daughter of an important French banker named Antoine de Mornay-Malle. She was thought to be in her early thirties. The couple lived in seclusion on the West Coast. Mr. Phillips had been very ill for several years. So he had, echoed Kay as she hung up the phone in her darkened hotel room in San Francisco.
Are you totally out of your goddamn mind, you incredible ass? Kay had raged into his office only moments after he'd arrived himself.
My, my, aren't we charming this morning. He was in no mood for his sister, and particularly not for the performance she was delivering on the other side of his desk. May I ask what you're referring to?
The married woman you're involved with, Alex. That's what I'm referring to.
I would say you've made two fairly presumptuous assumptions. Wouldn't you? He looked cool but angry as he sat there and watched her storm around the room until she finally stopped and stood facing him across his desk.
Is that right? Can you tell me that that was not Mrs. John Henry Phillips I met last night? And that you are not involved with her?
I don't have to tell you a damn thing. But he was stunned by the accuracy of his sister's information.
Don't you? And you don't have to tell her husband either?
Her husband, and she, and I, are none of your goddamn business, Kay. The only thing out here that is your business is your daughter and that's it! He stood up to face her now. But he knew that she had a score to even. She had lost her daughter to him, probably for good, and he had threatened to expose her short-comings publicly. That was not going to win him her friendship now. But he didn't give a damn. He didn't want her friendship. But he did want to know what she knew about Raphaella and how she had found out. Just what exactly are you referring to in all this?
I'm referring to the fact that my daughter tells me there's a woman in your life, who is worth ten of me,' as she puts it, and I find out she's another man's wife. I have a right to know who is around my daughter, Alex. I'm her mother, no matter what you think of me. And George isn't going to put up with your keeping her forever either, especially with your little affair going on. She's his daughter too.
I'd be surprised to hear that he remembered that.
Oh, shut up for chris-sake. You and your smartass pious comment. It's easy for you to come in and pick up the pieces. You haven't had to take care of her for seventeen years.
Neither have you.
Bull. The point is, Alex, just exactly who do you have around her now? That was something I wanted to know when I got here.
And you found Mrs. Phillips unsuitable? He almost laughed in his sister's face.
That's not the point either. The point, my dear, is that you seem to be shacking up with the wife of one of the most influential men in this country, and if anyone finds that out, I am going to be politically dead. Not because of anything I've done, but by association, because of you and your lousy scandal, and I have no intention of letting you ruin me politically for a lousy piece of ass.
But what she had just said was too much for Alex. Without thinking, he leaned across the desk and grabbed her arm. Now listen here, you lousy political slut. That woman is worth not ten of you, but ten thousand. She is a lady from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, and my involvement with her is none of your goddamn business. In what affects your child, she is nothing but wonderful to her, and as for me, I'll do what I goddamn well want to do. It is none of your goddamn business. I don't give a shit about your political career and I never have. You would like it one hell of a lot better if I had stayed married to Rachel and done you some good. Well, tough shit, big sister, tough shit. I didn't stay married to her, and I am never going back to her, and she is almost as big a bitch as you are, my dear. But the woman I am currently involved with is an extraordinary human being, and she happens to be married to a bed-ridden old man who is damn close to eighty. Any day now he is going to die and I'm going to marry that woman you met last night, and if you don't like it, old girl, you can bloody well shove it.
How adorable, Alex, and how fluent. She tried to wrench her arm free, but he didn't let her go. He only tightened his grip as his eyes hardened still more. The fact is, my dear, that the old boy is not dead yet, and if anyone finds out what you're up to, it'll be the biggest scandal in the country.
I doubt that. And I don't really give a shit, Kay, except for Raphaella.
Then you better start thinking. Her eyes glinted evilly at him. Because I may take care of the matter for you myself.
And commit political suicide? He laughed bitterly at her and let go of her arm to walk around the desk to where she stood. I'm not worried about that.
Maybe you should be, Alex. Maybe all I'd have to do to take care of it for you is to tell the old man myself.
You couldn't get near him.
Don't be so sure. If I want to, I'll get to him. Or to her. She stood there, measuring her brother, and he had to fight himself not to slap her face.
Get out of my office.
With pleasure. She started toward the door. But if I were you, I'd think twice about what I was doing. You're playing a big game, for high stakes, and you won't win this one, Alex, not if it could cost me my ass. I've got too much riding on this next election to let you play with dynamite over some little French whore.
Get out of my office! This time he roared at her, and she flinched as he grabbed her arm again, almost dragged her to the door, and threw it open. And stay out. Stay away from all of us, damn you! You're nothing better than filth!
Good-bye Alex. She looked him squarely in the eye as she stood in the doorway. Remember what I said. I'll get to him if I have to. Remember that.
Get out. This time he lowered his voice, and she turned on her heel and left. And he found that he was shaking violently when he sat down at his desk. For the first time in his life he had actually wanted to kill someone. He had wanted to throttle her for every lousy word she had said. It made him sick to remember that she was his sister. And as he sat there he began to worry about Amanda, thinking that perhaps Kay might try to force her to go back to New York with her. After half an hour of intense deliberation he told his secretary that he was leaving for the day. And just as he left his office, in her house Raphaella was picking up the phone. It was Alex's sister, and Raphaella frowned as she took the call.
No, nothing's wrong. I thought maybe we could meet for coffee. Could I perhaps come over on my way to see Mandy later Raphaella blanched.
I'm afraid not, my She had been about to tell her that her husband was ill. My mother isn't well. She's staying with me just now. And how had she gotten the number? From Alex? From Mandy? From Charlotte? The frown on Raphaella's face deepened still more.
I see. Then could we meet somewhere?
Raphaella suggested the bar at the Fairmont and met Kay there shortly before lunchtime, where they both ordered drinks. But Kay didn't wait until the drinks arrived before explaining her purpose in seeing Raphaella. She made no bones at all about why she had come.
I want you to stop seeing my brother, Mrs. Phillips.
Raphaella looked stunned as she sat there, awed by the sheer nerve of the woman. May I ask why?
Do you really have to? You're married, for God's sake, and to a very important man. If your involvement with Alex became known, it would be a scandal for all of us, wouldn't it? It was Raphaella's first taste of the true evil in the woman's eyes. She was hateful to her very core.
I imagine it would be quite a scandal for you. That's it, isn't it? She spoke politely and with a delicate smile.
But when Kay answered, she smiled too. I would think the greatest scandal would be for you. I can't imagine that your husband, or your family in Europe, would be terribly pleased with the news.
Raphaella paused for a moment, trying to catch her breath, as their drinks arrived and the waiter disappeared once again. No, I wouldn't enjoy that, Mrs. Willard. Her eyes sought Kay's now, as one woman reaching out to another. I didn't enter into this lightly. I didn't want to get involved with Alex, as much for his sake, as for my own. There is very little I can give him. My life belongs entirely to my husband, and he is a very sick man. Her voice was weighted down with sorrow as she spoke, and her eyes were full. But I'm in love with your brother. I love him very much. I love my husband, too, but She sighed and looked immensely European and lovelier than ever, strong and at the same time very frail. Kay hated everything about her. Because she was everything that Kay would never be. I can't explain what happened with Alex, or why. It just did. And we're trying to work it out as best we can. I can assure you, Mrs. Willard, we are above all discreet. No one will ever know.
That's nonsense. My mother knows. Mandy knows. Other people do and will find out. You can't control that. And you're not playing with fire. You're playing with the atom bomb. At least as far as I'm concerned.