Lucky Charm (18 page)

She shook her head. “You had so much on your plate between work and the campaign. I thought, I hoped, I could make it go away.”

“How?”

“The note had instructions. A drop point for the money. So I withdrew the cash from the bank and Gabrielle and I went to the Wave.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “You two went to meet with your blackmailing ex-con boyfriend alone?”

She winced at the fury in his voice. “Not exactly.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Then what, exactly, Sharon? Spell it out and be clear.”

She knew what she'd say next would only make her keeping him in the dark even worse, but she had no choice. “Gabrielle was thinking more clearly. She knew better than to go there alone, so she told Derek. He showed up before the set meeting time.”

He stared at her in silence. She could almost hear his thoughts.
Gabrielle trusted Derek but you couldn't trust me?

“I trust you,” she assured him. “I just didn't want to burden you with my problems when you have so many of your own.” God, her words sounded lame.

Why hadn't she shared this with him earlier? She knew why. She hadn't wanted to see the disgust in his eyes. Every time she thought about those photographs, about that time, she felt it. She was sure he did, too.

“Burden. Right.” He muttered something else under his breath. “Go on. What else don't I know?”

“At some point during the night, someone slipped a note in my bag telling me where to leave the money, but I didn't find it until the next morning. I panicked. I thought for sure they would expose the photo and it would kill your campaign. Gabrielle said Derek called his cousin, who is a police detective in Boston. He told Derek where Tony was living since his release and they spoke to him. He claimed to know nothing about the sudden resurrection of the pictures, but they weren't sure if they should believe him. I needed to know.”

“What. Did. You. Do?” he asked.

She ran her hands over her eyes, trying to hold it together and not cry. “I stalked him. Sort of. I mean, I stood behind trees and buildings and I watched. He has a wife now. Can a man who has a wife and a child be a blackmailer? I was going to confront him in front of his family, but my car died. I had to call Gabrielle to come get me. We stopped by her place and someone had broken in there, too—” Sharon knew she was rambling, but the stony look on Richard's face had her in a panic.

She didn't know what else to do except to keep talking. If she explained, maybe he wouldn't be angry. Maybe he'd understand and forgive.

She forced herself to look into his eyes and that's when she realized. “You already know something. That's why you've been acting so strange. What is it you know?”

He gestured to his briefcase in the hall. “I also received a photo and a note.”

The blood in her veins ran cold. Her legs grew weak and she stepped back to the nearest chair, collapsing into it. “Go on.”

“The note said you didn't pay up the first time so now the burden was on me. But the blackmailer didn't want money. No, the terms were that I had to drop out of the race or the photo would be made public. Guess what
my
first reaction was?”

“What?” she whispered.

“To find you. To confide in you. To see if you were okay and to fix this together. That's when
I
realized. If you didn't pay the money the first time,
you already knew
about the photo. You were being blackmailed. But you hadn't confided in me.” He turned away from her. “How in the hell do you think that made me feel?”

Sharon pushed herself to her feet. “Don't you think if I thought I could confide in you, I would have?”

He stared at her in disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She straightened her shoulders and forced herself to face him head-on. “Just that every time I brought up my past with Tony, you brushed it aside. You said you didn't want to hear about it.”

“I didn't want to put you through reliving it,” he said, correcting her. His eyes flashed angry sparks.

She blinked away tears. “That isn't what you said. You said you didn't need to hear it. As if it disgusted you. As if I disgusted you.” Her voice broke on the last word.

“Disgusted me?” Suddenly he was in front of her. He tipped her chin up, making her meet his gaze. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You did! Every time you kissed me softly and started to get excited, every time I thought you'd become more aggressive, treat me like you
wanted
me, you'd back off. Get gentle. And it didn't feel like you
wanted
me anymore. Not as much as you should,” she said, her voice rising.

She didn't recognize the words coming out of her mouth. She didn't believe she was saying them, yet she was. She was talking from the depths of her soul, admitting things to him she'd never even admitted to herself. Because she was afraid.

Afraid if she said them aloud, she'd lose him.

But, she realized now, she just might have lost him, anyway. So really, maybe she had nothing left to lose.

Nothing and everything, Sharon thought.

 

D
EREK HAD LIVED ALONE
for the past couple of years so he wasn't used to worrying about others. He'd always known Marlene was taking good care of Holly and heaven knows his father took care of himself. But now that he had two women in his life, he thought about them constantly. At least Holly was safe with his father and uncle.

Where the hell was Gabrielle?

He glanced at his wristwatch. “Almost dinnertime,” he muttered. He tried her cell phone, but it went straight to voice mail and he left a message.

She said she would drop Sharon off at home and come right over. Thirty minutes from Boston with no traffic, an hour with traffic max. Half an hour tops to drop Sharon off, to walk her inside and chat with her parents. Five minutes to get here.

All told, an hour and forty-five minutes, two hours at the most. Instead three hours had passed since he'd gotten her call and rearranged his and his daughter's lives in order to keep Gabrielle safe.

So he asked himself again. Where the hell could she be?

 

I
T HAD BEEN OVER AN HOUR
since Gabrielle had pulled up to Mary Perkins's mayoral office, located in an old Victorian mansion on the border of the two neighboring towns. The house was painted a grayish blue with white trim, common in the New England landscape.

Grabbing both her handbag and her laptop for safekeeping, she walked to the front porch. The screen was closed, the main door open.

Taped to the screen was a typed note, not sleek perfect computer ink but old-fashioned typesetting, complete with dropped letters:
Back soon. Let yourself inside. M.

Although Mary wasn't expecting her, Gabrielle did as the note suggested and stepped into the front hall. There was no receptionist waiting behind the messy, paper-strewn desk.

“Hello?” Gabrielle called out in case someone was inside.

Nobody replied.

She walked around, peeking into various meeting rooms, only to find those empty, as well.

At the far end of the only long hall, a set of heavy-looking double doors were shut tight. She didn't have to read the sign to know what it said—Mayor's Office.

She bit the inside of her cheek and knocked.

Silence.

She jiggled the handle.

Locked.

Mary Perkins didn't have a problem leaving the outer office open, but the doors to the inner sanctum were practically vaulted shut. She wouldn't be surprised if the room was soundproof, she thought wryly.

She couldn't decide what to do. She could leave and head to Derek's, but based on the note on the door, someone was due to arrive soon.

Gabrielle exhaled hard and eased herself into a chair in the sitting area in the front of the house. She crossed her legs, leaned back against the old velour couch and picked up a fan, which had been left on a table. She shut her eyes and fanned herself, hoping to ease the heat and humidity that seeped into the old house and into Gabrielle's pores. Logically she knew waving hot air into her face wasn't going to help, but it couldn't possibly hurt.

She didn't know how much time had passed when she finally heard the creaking of the hinges on the screen door. She rose from her seat without letting go of the fan. At some point she'd become convinced the hot air was somehow cooling her off.

“Grandma?” A female voice called.

“Nobody's here but me,” Gabrielle said, feeling like an intruder.

“Who's me?” A pretty brunette stepped into the main area where Gabrielle stood.

Gabrielle lifted her free hand in a half wave. “My name is Gabrielle Donovan. I came by to see Mayor Perkins. Nobody is here, but the door was open and the sign said someone would be back soon so I thought I'd wait.”

“I'm Lauren Perkins,” the woman said, extending her hand.

Gabrielle shook it. “Mayor Perkins is your grandmother?”

She nodded.

“Doesn't she have another granddaughter? Her assistant?” Gabrielle asked, thinking of the Mary Perkins clone.

Lauren smiled. “That's my sister.”

Gabrielle narrowed her gaze. She just didn't see the resemblance between the two women.

“Don't tell me. We look nothing alike,” Lauren said, laughing. “I hear it all the time.”

Gabrielle grinned. “You read my mind.”

“Yes, well, my grandmother is expecting me as you can tell by the note on the door. I'd recognize Grandma's old Smith Corona type anywhere.”

“A typewriter?” Gabrielle asked. “Wow.”

Lauren laughed. “Not many people know what those are anymore.”

“I'm a writer. I'm into research and old things.”

Lauren wrinkled her nose in thought, then snapped her fingers. “Gabrielle Donovan! The author. You're
that
Gabrielle Donovan! I'm a huge fan of your work,” she said.

“Well, thank you.” She thought about the notion of someone still using an old typewriter today. “I take it your grandmother isn't into the computer age?”

Lauren shook her head. “Although it would be easier for her if she was. Arthritis makes it difficult for her to write. I can't say that typing is much easier, but she says at least it's more legible. I hope my sister is planning to bring her into the technological age soon. But Gran is very set in her ways, I guess you'd say. It makes her hard to please sometimes,” Lauren confided.

“Who says I'm hard to please? Shame on you for talking about your grandmother that way!”

Both Gabrielle and Lauren turned at the sound of Mary Perkins's voice.

“Grandma!” Lauren exclaimed, obviously happy to see the older woman and not at all concerned at being caught talking behind her back.

And Mary had obviously not been upset with her, since contrary to her normally restrained demeanor, she held out her arms and pulled her granddaughter into a warm hug.

“How's your arthritis?” Lauren asked.

“Nothing can keep your grandmother down, you know that,” Mary said.

“Where's my sister?”

“Running errands for me in town. She left the note for you, but she said to tell you she'll be back soon.” Mary stepped back from her granddaughter and turned to Gabrielle. “Ms. Donovan, how nice to see you. What brings you by?”

“I've been wanting to make an appointment, but Elizabeth said she didn't know your schedule, so I thought I'd take a chance and stop by.” Gabrielle decided not to mention her upcoming book unless asked. She didn't want to discourage the other woman from setting up a time to talk. Obviously, since her granddaughter was here to see her, she was too busy now.

“Well, Elizabeth can be overprotective of my time.” She smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. “What did you want to discuss?” Mary asked.

Gabrielle drew herself up straighter. “Actually, I'd like to talk to you about the curse, how it's affected your family from the original generation on. Whatever you can tell me, I'd love to hear it.”

“For your book?” the mayor asked.

“You're writing a new book? About what?” Lauren asked.

Gabrielle glanced at the mayor.

“The Corwin Curse,” Mary said.

Lauren shook her head, a skeptical look crossed her face. “Have fun,” she said lightly.

“I take it you don't believe in it?” Gabrielle asked.

“Oh, no.” Lauren waved away the notion.

Mary frowned.

“Yet Elizabeth does?”

Lauren inclined her head. “My sister and grandmother are cut from the same cloth.”