The Cinderella Hour (17 page)

Mira wasn’t going to spend Sunday jotting down an X-rated
word by X-rated word recap of the obscene phone calls she had received. She
would never, she decided, prepare such a transcript for Blaine. Or, for the
time being, for the police.

If the caller phoned again, which he hadn’t last night while
Bea was holding down the fort, she would find a way of ascertaining that it
wasn’t Vivian before notifying the cops. And if she couldn’t be certain her
sister wasn’t making the calls?

The police need never know she received them. She would tell
Blaine—and, yes, even Bea—that Vivian’s speculation that the perpetrator was a
teenage prankster was undoubtedly correct. . . and that, thank goodness, he had
gotten bored with bothering her and was up to no good elsewhere.

Mira made an alternate plan for the day, to be acted upon
after reuniting the calico Agatha with her humans.

It was a classic feline reunion, proof positive that Agatha
was feeling well. Her chartreuse eyes gazed with supreme nonchalance at her
fawning owners. Who cared that they had missed her? And spent the morning
making a divinely soft nest for her on their bed?

Once Agatha was gone, Mira picked up the phone and called the
only real mother she had ever known. Bea had spotted Mira’s turmoil the moment Blaine dropped her off from the ball.

“What’s wrong?” she had asked.

Mira’s response had been a weak denial, a combination of a heavy
sigh, an unconvincing head shake, and an exasperated blend of
grrrrrr
and
hrrrrumph
.

Bea’s cheerful goodnight had included a “Let me know when you
want to talk.”

So all Mira said when Bea answered her phone was, “Now.”

“Your place or mine?”

“I’ll wander over, if that’s okay.”

“I’m putting the teakettle on.”

The kettle was whistling when Mira arrived.

She began talking before the mugs were filled.

“The real reason I decided to attend the ball was because of
my supposed friend Luke.”

“Not supposed.”

“Stay tuned, Bea.”

“Luke
is
your friend, Mira. And you are his. Continue.”

“Someone Luke once cared about very deeply has returned to Chicago.”

Bea nodded. “Snow.”

Mira threw her hands in the air. “I rest my case! So much for
Luke ever having confided anything the least bit private to me.”

“My knowing about Snow and Luke has nothing to do with
confidences Luke shared with me or anyone else. It’s based on what I personally
observed years ago.”

“Tell me. Please.”

“On the night of the fire, I was in the pool with the
paramedics. No one else wanted to be anywhere near Luke. Then Snow appeared. I
hadn’t known she and Luke were friends. They both attended Pinewood Elementary,
but I’d never seen them together until that night. Snow was a nine-year-old
girl, Mira. But the love I saw—her love for Luke—was as mature as love can be.
If she could have traded places with him, she would have. Anything to ease his
pain. I got the impression Luke felt the same way about her. That’s why he
rejected her that night. And kept rejecting her.”

“The letters he returned, unopened, from the reformatory,”
Mira said. Her quiet voice mirrored the quietness of Luke’s when he told her
about the letters. He would keep them sometimes, for a day or two or three, not
opening them, never permitting himself to, no matter how much he wanted to.

“There’s something I’ll bet Luke has never told anyone else.”

“But you know.”

“Only because the return address Snow used was mine. Snow was
a persistent little thing. And frantic about Luke. Would he survive? Would he
walk again? Was he lonely? Again, her concern was for his welfare, not her own.
Luke rebuffed her at every turn. I wanted to help. But I couldn’t get any
closer to her than Luke would let her get to him. I saw her a few times when
she was in junior high. I’m sure she never knew. I’d heard she joined the
debate team, and I attended a number of the meets. She moved on with her life
as best she could. I had no idea she and Luke reconnected when he returned to
Quail Ridge for his senior year at Larken High. From what you’ve said, I’m
guessing that’s what happened.”

“Yes. Luke
did
love her, Bea. What you witnessed was
real. He believed Snow loved him, too. He was shattered when she left town
without explaining why.”

“Oh, dear.”

“What?”

“I’m getting an uneasy feeling about what happened last
night. Please don’t tell me you confronted Snow.”

“I didn’t.”

“Thank goodness.”

“I just laid the groundwork.”

Mira explained her plans for a fifteen-thousand-dollar lunch,
during which she would make certain Snow knew just how deeply she had hurt Luke.

“Your heart’s in the right place,” Bea said. “But we’ve
always known
that
.”

“I have a brain problem, though, don’t I? What on earth was I
thinking?”

“You weren’t. The good news is, it’s fixable.”

“And will be fixed the minute the hospital fundraising office
opens tomorrow. I’ll tell them I’m putting the donation in the mail and they
don’t have to bother getting in touch with Snow regarding lunch.”

“That’s one approach.”

“You think I should go through with it?”

“Lunch with Snow, yes. Confrontation, no. I would like to be
invited, by the way. I’d love to see her again. In fact, you can honestly tell
her the idea for our lunch together was mine.”

“And what do I tell Luke if he sees Snow and she happens to
mention it?”

“You tell him the truth. And not only if he happens to learn
about it. You have to tell him soon, no matter what.”

“He’ll be furious.”

“He’ll be annoyed. For a little while. But it won’t be long
before he realizes your motives were pure. You saw his picture in today’s
paper, didn’t you?”

“Yes. But this isn’t about Luke being a hero, Bea. We know he’s
more than happy to risk his life for strangers.”

“What do you suppose Luke Kilcannon would do if some man—who
had hurt
you
deeply—wandered back into town? Can’t you see him deciding
to have a little man-to-man talk with the culprit?”

Mira smiled. “I can.”

“So there you have it. He’ll be touched that you’re as
protective of his feelings as he would be of yours.”

Mira stopped smiling. “Before last night, I would have agreed
with you. But I obviously don’t know Luke as well as I thought I did. He hasn’t
wanted me to know him, Bea. He’s chosen not to tell me things he really should
have.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for starters, the identity of his
other
girlfriend at Larken High . . .”

The
Larken Estate

Quail
Ridge

Sunday,
October
30

2
:
00
p.m.

“Good afternoon.” Blaine rose from the desk in his study to greet his wife. It was Vivian’s first appearance
of the day. “You slept well.”

“I took a pill. Okay, two. With a glass of wine.”

Vivian rarely drank. She had discovered years ago that she
liked the escape too much, and liked herself less for succumbing to it. She did
on occasion take the sleeping pills Blaine prescribed. One pill taken on a
night when she would otherwise lie awake worrying about a custody hearing for
the following day worked wonders.

But two pills washed down with a glass of wine . . .

“That explains why you didn’t awaken when I got home.”

“I’m sorry. I intended to wait up for you, but having decided
I would be terrible company—”

“Never.”

“Well, sleep felt like a reasonable choice. How was the ball?”

“Very successful. And yes,” he said, “Snow Ashley Gable was
there.”

“You met her?”

Blaine
nodded. “We talked for a while about the show. I also told her I was married to
you.”

“And?”

“She said to say hello. It seemed genuine. No daggers in her
eyes. She seemed genuine, Vivian.”

Vivian sighed. “You liked her.”

“From what I saw of her, yes.”

“Did Mira like her?”

“They never met. But they should. I thought it might be
fun—and therapeutic—to have a dinner party this weekend.”

“Therapeutic?”

“You seem calm about Snow in the light of day, so maybe
whatever it was is already resolved. In which case, it will just be a gracious
way to welcome her home.”

“You want to invite
Snow
to dinner?”

“I do,” Blaine said. “Especially now that you’re not so calm
about her, after all. She
is
calm about you, Vivian. Whatever negative
feelings you harbor about her, they’re not reciprocal. The best way to
recognize that she’s not the villain your memory’s made her out to be is to
spend a pleasant evening with her.”

“I really don’t want to.”

“And I really do.”

Apprehension whispered through her. She and Blaine didn’t
fight. Or even argue. Because, Vivian realized, she always acceded to his
wishes. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’d also like to invite Luke Kilcannon.”

“What?”
No!
“Why?”

“I’ve heard so much about him. I’d like to meet him. It might
also be good for Snow to see him again. You said she’d been obsessed with him
years ago. And, of course, Luke and Mira are friends.”

“Luke and Mira are friends?”

“So she says. I didn’t get the impression that they’re lovers.
Not at the moment, at any rate. But that could be wrong. I guess we’ll see. We’ll
tell Mira that Luke is coming, but that she’s also welcome to bring a date.”

“Why do you want to do this?”

“I told you. Fun. Hopefully therapeutic. Gracious. Maybe even
diagnostic.”

“Meaning you believe Snow might be making the obscene phone
calls to Mira?” Vivian asked. “And that if you can see her and Luke and Mira in
the same room, you might be able to tell?”

“I’m not sure there are any obscene phone calls, Vivian. I
think Mira might have been making that up.”

“Mira doesn’t make up stories.”
I’m the Larken sister who
lies
.

“And you know that how?”

“She’s my sister.”

“A sister who, you’ve told me countless times, you scarcely
know.”

“Yes. But I know her well enough to know
that
.
Besides, what possible reason could she have for making up such a thing?”

“Because she’s insecure. Desperate for attention.”

Insecure? Desperate?
Mira?
“None of this is making any
sense, Blaine. I keep waiting for you to say April Fools—or, more
appropriately, trick or treat. Today’s Halloween eve, isn’t it?
Please
tell me this is all a joke . . . beginning with the dinner party you want to
throw.”

“It’s not a joke, Vivi. And some of it is quite serious.”

“Your concerns about Mira.”

“That’s right.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“She’s very jealous of you.”

“No, she’s not!”
How could she be? She’s so content with
who she is that when she doesn’t get what her heart desires she lets go
gracefully—not cruelly.
“Mira is
not
jealous of me.”

“She wants what you have.”

To feel driven to achieve in everything I do? To never give
myself a break no matter how tired I am?
“Such as what?”

“Think.”

Vivian didn’t have to think. She merely had to meet his gaze.
“You?”

“Nothing has happened, Vivian. That goes without saying. And
this time I believe I’ve made it clear to Mira that nothing ever will.”

“This time?”

“I told you she was desperate. I’ve been blunt with her before,
to no avail. But last night . . . I think, I hope, she gets it now. She’s a
major reason behind my suggesting the party, and why I wanted her to accompany
us to the ball. The more she sees the two of us together, the better.”

Is this why you’re the most affectionate with me, the most
loving and adoring, when Mira is around?
“She can see us together,
does
see us
together, all the time. We don’t need a party for that.”

“It doesn’t work when it’s just the three of us, when we’re together
and she’s alone. That’s why I thought entertaining her and Luke, or whatever
lover she chooses to bring, in our home might be a good idea.”

“I need to go back to bed,” Vivian murmured, “and try waking
up again.”

“May I join you, Vivi?”

“Yes. Of course.” But she frowned.

And Blaine smiled. “Maybe I’ll let you persuade me to
postpone our little dinner party for a week or two.”