No Accident (6 page)

Tom stepped up onto a pedestal and held his arms out at his sides. He did not smile at his reflection in the full-length mirrors surrounding him. There were so many mirrors in the room that the place could have been a fun house—except Tom was not having any fun.

A woman who looked like she had been poured into her cream-colored suit ran a measuring tape down each of Tom's arms and around his chest, taking down numbers for his wedding tuxedo. “Is this your son?” she asked Deirdre.

Deirdre giggled and beamed at Tom. “Almost,” she squeaked.

Tom clenched his teeth.
In your dreams
, he thought. His dad might need a new wife, but he did
not
need a new mother. And even if he did, Deirdre could never play that role—she was just another Debbie. He forced a smile as he stepped back down. It was taking all of the self-control he had not to make waves, to play nice and keep his dad from getting angry. Was it worth it? Tom wasn't sure.

And how did he get roped into coming with Deirdre to the bridal boutique in the first place? Zoey had gotten out of it, as usual. Sometimes Tom wished he could operate as slyly as his sister.

With Tom's measurements out of the way, Deirdre stepped onto the little platform to try on veils. “You like this one, Tommy?” She whirled around, her face draped in pink tulle.

“Yeah, sure.” Tom nodded. Something heavier—like a plastic garbage bag—might be better, but at least her face was covered. Tom picked his jacket up off the white velvet couch and put it on. He dug his hands into the pockets, thinking maybe he should wait outside. His thumb jabbed into something sharp, a point
of paper. He pulled out a note. It was folded tightly, with the edges tucked in. Just like the last one.

This was not the second note he'd gotten, or even the third. Somebody had been slipping him notes almost every day since the first one. Always tightly folded. Always written in purple block letters. Always cryptic. And definitely for him. He had an admirer. And whoever she was, she knew how to keep a secret.

Unfolding the note slowly, Tom read: t—
YOU'RE SO MUCH BETTER THAN THE REST. THAT'S WHY WE BELONG TOGETHER. XO
, ?

Tom stared at the question mark. Not knowing who was sending him these messages was driving him nuts. And how was she getting them into his pocket without him seeing her? He only took his jacket off in class, or at lunch, and then it was usually hanging over the chair he was sitting in or locked in his locker.

Tom never knew when he was going to find a note. Sometimes, like now, he didn't even notice until after school. The notes had to be from someone he knew—someone he saw all the time.

For a brief moment Tom let himself believe the notes could be from Kelly—that she was wishing she was with him and not Chad. That she was crushing on him like he had been crushing on her for years. Crumpling the note in his fist, he tossed the thought away along with the paper.
Keep dreaming, Ramirez
, he told himself. The whole thing was probably a prank. Maybe it was Chad. Or Zoey. He hadn't been particularly nice to his sister lately. Maybe she was trying to make a fool out of him.

“Actually, Tommy lost his mommy.” Debbie #5's squeaky voice interrupted Tom's thoughts and he jerked his head in her direction. Was she actually talking about his mother? “Lost,” was not exactly the word he would have used to describe the way his mom was stolen from his life. And the assistant at the bridal boutique was not exactly someone he wanted to discuss the details of his mother's death with.

“He was just eleven, weren't you, Tommy?” When Tom did not respond, Deirdre went on telling the story without him while the fitter nodded sympathetically and shoved more veils onto Deirdre's head. “She died in a horrible
car accident. Went right off the road and into a lake. And the DA, my fiancé, was away. It must have been so hard with your daddy out of town and everything. You and Zoey were all alone.” Deirdre turned back to Tom and stuck her bottom lip out in a sympathetic “poor baby” pout.

Tom stared at her, horrified. Couldn't she see he did not want to talk about this? Couldn't she
shut up
? Not to mention she had it all wrong. His father was not away the night of his mom's accident. He was just working late. Like he always did.

The sound of Tom's cell phone provided him with an easy exit from the conversation he was
not
having. “S'cuse me,” he mumbled as he headed for the door. The tiny glowing screen read “chad.” If he weren't so grateful for a way out of Weddings ‘R' Us he might not have taken the call. Like everything else in Tom's life, Chad was really bugging him lately.

“Look, man,
I
haven't even finished tomorrow's homework yet,” he said, flipping the phone open. He hoped he sounded like he was joking. Or maybe he didn't care.

“No. Dude. That's not why I'm calling. It's Dustin.” Chad's voice was tight. He sounded worked over.

“What about him?” Chad's older brother was always in trouble. Tom wasn't sure why the problem of the week warranted a call.

“Dad just kicked him out.”

“Good for him!” Tom laughed and stepped in a puddle on the sidewalk. A worm was squirming in the water, drowning.

Tom thought Chad should be rejoicing. With Dustin gone, maybe the fighting wouldn't be so bad, and maybe Chad could get his schoolwork done…

“Dustin wants me to go with him.”

“What?” Tom heard him, he just couldn't think all of a sudden. The rain was starting again. And across the street he had just spotted a familiar car. The silver Audi TT with the tinted windows and clown-head antenna was sending up steam on the other side of the street. “What?” Tom asked again, staring.

A chill ran down his spine. The TT was turning up in too many places. It was giving him the creeps. School. The mall. His neighborhood.
Here. He was at a bridal boutique! This was no mere coincidence. Wherever he went, there it was. Either his dad was having him followed or his admirer was not just an admirer. She was a stalker.

Twelve new text messages. Kelly started to work the keypad on her phone, then threw it down on the bed in frustration. Every one of the messages was from truthteller. And this time they contained more than one word each. This time they had lots of words—her words. Somehow “tt,” as Kelly had begun thinking of the anonymous texter, had gotten hold of the first draft of her “will” and was threatening to take it public.

Fuming, Kelly opened more messages. She really didn't care how many insulting things she'd said in her will or who she'd said them about. Nor did she care if people found out.
That was not the point. The point was, they were supposed to read it after she was gone, when she'd already begun perfecting her Malibu tan. It was supposed to be something to remember her by. If it got around early, it would ruin the whole thing.

Hitting the reply button she hastily typed:
QUIT TRYING TO BLACKMAIL ME AND YOU MIGHT HAVE A FUTURE
.

The people in Silver Spring really did not have a clue. Glaring at herself in her enormous gilded mirror, Kelly turned sideways and her frown deepened. She was sick of this town and everyone in it.

Her mom, Phoebe, had been a bigger wet tissue than usual since Kelly dropped the real-mom bomb—making Kelly's favorite foods from when she was eight and following her around the house sniffling. Barf. Chad was turning out to be a big yawn. Alison was making her sick. She couldn't believe she was related to anyone that spineless. And that new girl, X, was just making her mad—who did she think she was? She acted like her stupid school uniforms gave her some sort of authority. It had
been weeks and she was still wearing them, a different one every day. People only liked her because she didn't talk. It allowed them to imagine what she would say if she could form a complete sentence. Pathetic.

Stepping into her walk-in closet, Kelly felt impatient. This town did not deserve her. It was time to go. Now.

She pulled down her biggest suitcase set and began tossing in her favorite warm-weather clothes. Tube tops. Minis. Flip-flops.

Pausing, she grabbed the phone from the stand on her dresser and dialed Aunt Christine. Better let her new mommy in on her plan—and its new time frame.

“Hello?” Aunt Christine sounded tense.

“Hey, it's me,” Kelly said casually, slipping a pair of sunglasses up on her nose. She was thinking about where she'd go in L.A. to buy a new pair (or three) when she realized that there was silence on the other end of the line. “Kelly,” she added, rolling her eyes. Didn't Aunt Christine check her caller ID?

“Oh. Is this important? I was just about to—”

Annoyed by her aunt's tone, Kelly interrupted.
“Yes, it's important. I wouldn't call if it wasn't. I just wanted to tell you that I'm ready to go.”

“Go where?” Aunt Christine sighed. “Look, I don't have time for games right now, Kelly. I'm on my way out the door.”

“I'm ready to move in with you. To come to California,” Kelly added. Why was Christine being so lame?

“Move in with me?” Aunt Christine laughed. “Look, whatever little mess you've gotten yourself into, Kel, I'm sure you can clean it up. Without moving to California.”

“But, I'm not—” Kelly started to protest.

Aunt Christine stopped laughing. When she spoke again her voice was low and serious. “You're not getting this, are you? You are not going to live with me. Not now. Not ever. I would never have given you away if I wanted to keep you.”

Now there was silence on both ends of the line. Then a click. Christine had hung up on her. Kelly stood there in her closet with her suitcase half packed, holding the cordless phone. She just stood there motionless until the phone started to make that irritating noise and the
operator's voice came on. “If you'd like to make a call…”

With a bloodcurdling scream, Kelly hurled the phone at the wall. The voice stopped. The screaming didn't.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Kelly breathed in. It was time to pull herself together. Time for a plan B. Later, Kelly would call Aunt Christine back. She would leave a voice mail message, giggle, and say it was all a joke. And suddenly, Kelly realized it
was
a joke. Of course she wouldn't leave Chad and her friends. She was the queen of Silver Spring —capital A on the A-list of a fantastic, wealthy prep school. Why would she give that up to live with a B-list actress in Tinseltown?

Alison had a blister on her heel. The new ballet flats her grandmother had bought her weren't built for this kind of hike. It had been a long walk from Stafford—a walk she had not planned on taking.

Where was he?
Alison fumed. Her father had not shown up like he'd said he would. And Alison was not sure who she was angrier with —him for breaking a promise, or herself for trusting him. She should have realized that the only person in her family she could trust was herself.

Reaching the house at last, Alison hesitated on the stone walk. The driveway was filled with
construction vehicles. Behind the house, construction workers were already busily rebuilding the pool house. A larger one this time, with a mosaic tile bottom and a more elaborate hot tub. Alison wondered if her grandmother was expanding it for her benefit —she knew how much Alison liked to spend time there. But since Alison was through being manipulated, she did not linger on the thought. Instead she opened the enormous front door noiselessly, slipped off her ballet flats, and stood in the grand foyer, listening.

She heard her grandmother's voice coming from the library. Grandmother Diamond was on the phone. Most of the help was done for the day, and Francesca was in the kitchen. Perfect. Her bad luck was about to turn into the opportunity Alison had been waiting for. With her shoes in her hand, she tiptoed up the central staircase and down the hall to her grandmother's bedroom.

The master suite was enormous. Though Tamara's husband was long deceased—he died before Kelly and Alison were born—Tamara still stayed in the tremendous bedroom with its
two adjoining sitting rooms, two adjoining bathrooms, and dual walk-in closets. Alison wondered if the empty other half ever reminded Grandmother Diamond how alone she was in the huge house, or if she even cared.

With her heart hammering in her chest, Alison breathed slowly through her mouth. She needed to stay focused. Sleuthing in the Diamond estate was not easy. Grandmother Diamond was home more often than not, and Alison knew that the housekeepers, groundskeepers, cook, and driver were all eyes and ears for her. If she didn't know how much her grandmother disliked technology, she might have suspected hidden cameras and microphones. Luckily for her, that was not the Diamond style.

Alison drifted toward the sitting room with its chaise lounge and antique vanity and the walk-in closet beyond it. That's where
she
would hide anything that was important—deep in the closet. Alison stopped. She was not her grandmother. She surveyed the room again. Opposite the king-sized bed was an enormous Monet painting, a blurry oil of water lilies at Giverny. Alison knew her grandmother
was proud of it. She'd had her entire room redone with frescoed plaster and French silks in matching shades of pastel pink, blue, and green after she had acquired it. Which is why it struck Alison as odd that the painting was not lying flat against the wall.

Silently Alison reached out and touched the frame. The painting swung easily away from the wall on hidden hinges. And behind it was the open door of a walk-in vault! Sucking in her breath, Alison felt her pulse race faster. She could not believe her luck! Her grandmother must have left the safe open to take her call in the library (she refused to keep a phone in her bedroom), not realizing Alison would come home so soon.

If Alison's hunch was correct and Grandmother Diamond had not burned all of her important documents in the fire, this was where they would be. Even though she had heard her grandmother tell Aunt Christine that whatever document Christine was worked up about had been torched in the pool house blaze, Alison suspected Her Highness was too
calculating—and too smart—to have destroyed everything. She liked to hold tight to her aces.

Alison's eyes drifted past the two tall, cherry jewelry cases and several smaller leather cases. She glanced at the stacks of coin boxes and framed pieces of art leaning against the vault wall. At the back of the giant safe she saw a leather accordion file filled with papers. Without looking closely—there would be time for that later—Alison grabbed a handful of the papers and hurried out of the small airless room. Careful to leave everything as she found it, she tucked the papers inside one of the textbooks in her bag and tiptoed down the back stairs and out the service exit near the garage.

Outside, Alison leaned against the house and waited for her racing heart to slow. Now that she was out of the house and safe, she was keenly aware of the danger she had just put herself in. But nobody was coming after her. Nobody had heard a thing.

Careful to avoid Fernando, the chauffeur, Alison walked back up the same stone path at
the front of the house she had walked up just a few minutes before. Then, as noisily as she could, she opened the door and stepped into the foyer.

“Hello, Grandmother! I'm home!”

Alison walked across the marble entry and poked her head into the library. Her grandmother narrowed her eyes, indicating she was on the phone and did not appreciate the interruption. Turning away, Alison dashed up the stairs to her own room, grinning.