Stars (The Butterfly Trilogy) (72 page)

     She smiled.

     And then they flew into each other's arms, nearly knocking themselves off their feet.

     "Oh God," he said, reaching down between her legs so that Ingrid cried out. "God, how I've missed you."

     She bit his neck, his ear, his lips. When she tore his shirt open, buttons went flying. They stumbled across the room, kissing, gasping, devouring.
He pushed her back across the desk, sending blotter, pens, and Hannah's picture flying.

     "Do it!" she cried.
"Do it!"

     Hannah fought her way through the congested holiday traffic, careful of her Corvette's delicate body and expensive paint job, trying not to scrape it again—she would be needing to sell it soon. She had stopped at the bank, and now the million dollars' worth of stock certificates lay in a thick, scary packet on the seat next to her. She looked at her watch. She had forty-five minutes to get to the meeting place, which was only two streets away. There was time to stop by Starlite and leave Alan's sculpture in his office.

     She hoped that it would soften the blow of what she had to tell him: that she knew he had embezzled nearly a million dollars from the company and that she had sold her shares to raise the cash to repay it. She wasn't going to be judgmental or make accusations or demand to know what he had done with the money. She planned only to tell him how she had found out, that she had suspected something for a while, and that, adding up certain things she had overheard during phone conversations and doing a quiet inspection of the company's accounts, she had put it all together. As far as she was concerned, the subject was closed; she and Alan would go away, sever their connections with Starlite, and try to establish a new life for themselves. She loved him, that was all that mattered.

     But at no small sacrifice. Hannah knew that this would spell the end of her friendship with Philippa, and possibly imperil Starlite—would these shares give Miranda controlling interest?—but Hannah couldn't let that interfere with her determination to save Alan. Once the funds were replaced, she hoped that Philippa would drop the matter and not follow through with prosecution. Hannah was counting on their years together, and the fact that Philippa would want Hannah's children spared from finding out the truth about their father.

     No matter what lies ahead, Hannah thought as she nosed the Corvette into her reserved parking space, Alan and I will meet it and we will survive just as long as we have each other. The big house, the cars, corporate offices on the top floor—none of these matter if we don't have each other. It will be just like it was in the old days, when our love was all we needed.

     "Well!" Alan said as he pulled a new shirt out of his suitcase and put it on. He laughed. "Look at these teeth marks! I look like I was attacked by piranhas! What will Hannah think?"

     Ingrid retrieved her panties and held them up. Torn beyond repair. "Tell her you went swimming in the Amazon."

     "She might get suspicious when she sees these bruises."

     "She won't get suspicious, the silly cow. She hasn't been smart enough to catch on to what we've been up to all these years—she won't start now."

     "Poor Hannah," Alan said as she picked up his jacket and removed something from the inside pocket. "Poor dumb Hannah. So blindly trusting. And now she's madly rushing around trying to raise cash so she can pay back the money we took. She thinks I don't know."

     "How will she get it?"

     He shrugged. "I imagine she's going to sell her Starlite stock. She's been spending an awful lot of time at the safe in our bedroom. If I know her, she'll be stupid enough to sell it to Miranda—just hand controlling interest over to them on a silver platter. Not that it's going to make any difference to us," he said with a grin as he came up behind Ingrid and put his arms around her. "By the time the shit hits the fan, you and I will be long gone and living the good life in Singapore. Is everything arranged with Mr. Chang and your banker friend?"

     She reached down for him, playfully, and Alan was immediately aroused again. "I've taken care of everything. I even have the tickets," she said, biting his ear. "We leave tonight on Singapore Airlines, first class, one way. What's this?" she asked when she saw the package he was holding.

     "It's a present. For you."

     "For me? You generous bastard." When she opened it and the gemstones encrusting the gold crucifix glittered beneath the overhead lights, the pupils in her blue eyes flared darkly, like a cat's. "Oh, Alan," she breathed. "It's beautiful!"

     She lifted up her hair, and Alan tried to fasten the necklace for her, explaining its history. "Princess Somebody-or-Another wore it when she freed Brazil's slaves. Oh shit." The clasp wouldn't work; it was too old. "I hadn't noticed this before," he said. "I'll take it to a jeweler and get a new clasp put on it."

     She turned around and gave him a long, lingering kiss on the mouth, rubbing her body against his. "Didn't you get anything for your wife?"

     He went back to his jacket and fished out the little voodoo doll, hand carved from jacaranda wood, that had cost him less than a dollar. "She'll be thrilled with this. Hannah's always happy with cheap, crappy junk."

     As Ingrid laughed and tossed the sea goddess into the air, and as Alan held the crucifix up to the morning sunlight, admiring his purchase, Hannah was, at that moment, standing on the other side of the door, holding her purse and the
Phoenix
sculpture. She had arrived in time to hear the sounds of lovemaking; she had heard every word of their conversation.

     When her heart did something wild inside her chest, she was momentarily dizzy, and she had to reach out to steady herself. It was too soon to take another pill, so she closed her eyes and held her breath, trying mentally to will her heart back into a steady rhythm. And when, in the next instant, it did exactly that, she slowly exhaled, squared her shoulders, and opened the door.

     They turned, startled. Hannah made a quick survey of the scene—the desk items scattered all over the floor, Ingrid's disheveled hair, Alan's zipper still down.

     She gave him a long, hard look, then she turned and walked out.

     Alan ran after her, catching her by the arm. "Let me explain."

     "You know, Alan," she said in a tight voice, "the strangest thought came into my head when I saw you two. I was suddenly thinking of the night our first child was born—the plans you and I made, the promises we made, to our children and to each other. I was going to cover for you because—" She struggled for control. "Because I thought I wanted to protect you. I don't care what happens to you now."

     "Hannah, listen to me. About Ingrid. It's not what you think."

     "Alan, I heard everything. And now I understand a lot of things that puzzled me in the past—sudden business trips, unreturned phone calls, unexplained charges on our credit cards. You're right, I was stupid. Right from the beginning."

     "What are you going to do?"

     "I don't know." She twisted the handle of her purse. She still had the eagle sculpture under her arm, carefully protected in plastic bubble wrap.
She realized she was about to cry. "I was willing to forgive everything, Alan, even your stealing from Starlite, which is like stealing from your own family. I would have forgiven anything—" Her voice caught. "As long as you still loved me."

     "I do, Hannah. Believe me. Here." He showed her Princess Isabel's necklace, which he had been clutching as if it were a lifeline. "I bought this for you."

     She looked at the necklace, and then at him. Ingrid's wild lovemaking had messed up his hair so that the transplant plugs showed. "Keep it. Sell it. You're going to need money for a good lawyer."

     "You're not going to tell them about the million dollars, are you?"

     "Philippa would have found out soon enough anyway."

     "Hannah, don't do this to me—"

     Ingrid suddenly emerged from his office, all tidied up, her hair perfectly combed, purse slung over her shoulder. She quietly closed the door as if she were leaving after a normal business day and walked in a dignified way down the hall, without looking at Hannah or Alan, until she disappeared around the corner where the elevators were.

     "You'd better go after her," Hannah said. "From what I overheard, if she gets away, you'll be left with nothing. And you'll never find her."

     He hesitated, a torn look on his face, then: "Shit! Ingrid!" He ran down the hall. "Ingrid, wait!"

     The first thing Hannah did was to stop at the bank, where she replaced the stocks in the safe deposit box. As she joined the crosstown traffic on La Cienega, passing the very spot where a man was waiting for her to arrive with stock certificates, Hannah thought about Alan and Ingrid, the sounds she had heard, the conversation on the other side of the closed door, and she felt herself grow curiously empowered by it. Alan had betrayed her, but in an ironic way, she had betrayed herself. Hannah thought back over the years, recalling things for the first time, and she saw how Alan hadn't even looked at her when she was a fat gopher at Halliwell and Katz. But once she was thin, he had taken her on the Tilt-A-Whirl. Thirty years ago, she realized, he had taken her for a carnival ride, and he had been taking her for one ever since.

     And then Hannah thought about the waiting room at the Tarzana Obesity Clinic, where she had first met Philippa so long ago; she thought of the day Philippa adopted Esther, who was Jackie's age, and how the two kids became best friends; and finally Hannah thought of her other children, all of whom were coming home for Christmas, bringing grandchildren with them. And suddenly Alan just didn't seem as important to her as he once had.

     When she got home, a lot of thinking had been done, a lot of decisions made and conclusions reached. The first thing Hannah did was to tear up her letter to Philippa. Then she went downstairs and handed the sixty-five-thousand-dollar eagle sculpture to a startled Miss Ralston, saying, "This is for you. I saw how much you were admiring it."

     Then she looked at all the flowers and decorations and things that had to be done for her big Christmas party, and she said to her secretary, "Well, shall we get to work?"

A
S JUDITH MADE HER WAY ALONG THE PATH FROM ONE OF
the cottages, where she had been called to treat a bad case of frostbite on someone who had thought it would be fun to ski in a bikini, she removed her down parka and draped it over her arm. The sun was high, the sky clear, and the day growing warm. Judith was feeling good—the best, in fact, that she had felt in a long time. The day had dawned clear and bright, almost springlike, and Mr. Smith had telephoned to say he was sorry their dinner had been interrupted the night before and he would be most pleased if she joined him for lunch today. Judith had accepted and was looking forward to it.

     Two electric carts trundled by on the path, taking guests to bungalows, cottages, or cabins— new arrivals, in time for the Christmas ball tonight. Judith recognized one of them as Philippa Roberts, founder of Starlite. When Judith had been pregnant with Kimmie she had gained twenty pounds and had joined Starlite to take them off. There was only one passenger in the second cart, a man in horn-rimmed glasses and a short black beard. She only saw him for an instant, but Judith thought he looked familiar somehow.

     Otherwise, not many guests were out on the grounds today, despite that it was a lovely warm morning; most, she knew, had already begun their elaborate ritual of getting ready for the ball tonight. Although it wasn't a costume ball, it might as well be for the personal preparations that were going into it. But then, she reminded herself, these were people who were used to being seen and being judged, often harshly. Like poor Bunny Kowalski, whom she hadn't seen since the night before last, when she had visited Bunny in her suite. The young acress had requested Valium but in the end hadn't taken it. While she and Judith had been talking, Frieda Goldman, Bunny's agent, had called, announcing some exciting news that had immediately snapped the girl out of her depression. Judith assumed that Bunny was all right, since she hadn't called the clinic again.

     But other people
had
called. Namely Mort. Her ex-husband was getting insistent upon coming up to Star's to see her—"I want to give us another try," he had said. Since his first call two days ago, when it had upset Judith that he had found out where she was, Mort had tried an impressive sixteen times to wear down her resistance and get her to invite him up. But what was there to talk about? After all the shitty things they had said to each other, there was nothing left.

     As she turned down the path that led to the health club, Judith was startled to see a strange figure cavorting in the snow up ahead. She stopped and stared. The person was small, bundled up in a parka and woolens, but gangly, she could see, with long sandy hair streaming out behind. A child, she realized. Up here at Star's? It ran straight toward Judith with arms imitating a windmill, and suddenly Judith heard her own voice, two years ago, saying, "Be careful, spider monkey."