Truth and Consequences, page 20
He nodded. “Two guys were waiting for me when I got home. Video camera, mike, the whole reporter thing. If they show up here, don’t talk to them. Bart called you?”
She sat at the table, put her elbow on its surface and leaned her forehead on her palm. “Yes. I’d hoped this thing would be a blip on the far horizon and nobody would notice. No such luck.”
“And the pictures? Were they from one of your shoots in New York?”
“Yes,” she said miserably and told him of Selma’s call. “I mean I thought it was a corny idea—the maiden and the unicorn. I wasn’t nude. He took so many pictures I lost count. He develops them himself. He must have thrown some away and that…that little witch took them. I’m lucky she didn’t doctor them so they’d look even worse.”
“They aren’t the kind of thing you usually do.” He tried not to sound judgmental, but he’d hated those photos. He still felt possessive about her, body and soul.
She shrugged. “You don’t sound happy about it. Well, I wasn’t happy, either. But I told Selma I needed an assignment fast. I couldn’t afford to be picky. Still, whatever happened to the right to privacy?”
She looked sad and worn out. “I feel like the media monster’s eating my family alive. It’s gnawing the flesh off our bones. What kind of society have we become? Do people think our troubles are entertainment?”
“There’s probably jealousy involved. You were the family that had everything. Money. Physical appeal. A certain celebrity.”
Penny nodded sadly. “Gerty says there’s a German word for it. Schadenfreud. It means taking pleasure in the misfortune of others.”
“There’s a lot of it going around these days,” he said ruefully.
“Bart told me that he and Will thought Mom and I should leave Dallas for a while—and that you thought so, too.”
He wanted to cup her perfect little chin in his hand, to kiss her and tell her everything would be fine. But that would be a lie.
“Yes. I think so, too.”
“Where would we go?” she asked. “We shouldn’t spend a lot of money.”
“Where do you want to go? Where would you feel comfortable?”
She thought a moment. “Chicago,” she said. “We could make it there in one hop. It’s got wonderful museums and zoos. Mom’s never been and nobody there knows us.”
“Chicago it is,” he said. “Go before The National Star comes out. Stay until the first of the furor is over. And be back in time.”
“Time for what?” she asked.
“For me to take you to Martinsville,” he said. “You promised.”
“Yes,” she said, looking as if she was about to take some very bitter medicine. “I promised. But after that, I need you to stay farther away, Craig. You’ve been a great help to me and my family. But what we had is gone. It’s gone for good. Let’s not draw it out any longer. It’s too painful.”
She drew her hand away. “I’ll need to make arrangements for Chicago and pack. Thanks, Craig. But let’s say goodbye for now.”
She stood. He had no choice but to stand, as well.
“I’m going upstairs. You can tell Mom goodbye. And I’ll break the news about Chicago. I can’t depend on you for everything.”
She smiled weakly. “And good luck with the new job. I wish you every success. You deserve it.”
She turned and left him alone on the sunporch.
MAEVE HAD FUSSED THAT A TRIP would be too expensive. But Penny quickly learned how pathetically little Maeve knew about expenses.
Hilton had purposely kept her ignorant. He’d convinced her she couldn’t balance a checkbook or keep track of bills or insurance or anything else. He’d done an excellent job of keeping her in the dark.
Penny knew she was going to have to change that. But not yet. It was better that Maeve thought the trip would hardly cost more than a long weekend in Austin. Penny kept prices vague, and she said she’d traveled so much that she knew all the tricks about saving money.
She’d put a temporary brown rinse on her own hair and picked clothes that wouldn’t stand out. She had three credit cards with the name Penelope Lockhart. Nobody needed to know who she and Maeve were and what secrets they were hiding.
And Maeve, after her initial hesitation, quickly took to being a stranger in a strange city. Their hotel was near Millennium Park, which Maeve came to love so dearly that Penny thought she might take up camping in it so she could be there every hour of the day. She especially loved the Crowne Fountain with its towers showing changing images and the magnificent Cloud Gate.
The two of them roamed the city, exploring. The museums fascinated Maeve, and the zoos delighted her. Penny tried to steer her clear of newsstands, but secretly bought a copy of The National Star and read it after Maeve was safely asleep.
The article about Alyssa Ritchie was mercifully buried in the middle of the tabloid. There was a photo of Ritchie herself, who’d clearly been nipped, tucked, Botoxed and possibly sandblasted. She had bleached hair and false eyelashes, and her plump lips gave Penny catty thoughts about collagen.
Nice work, Hilton, she thought. Your mistress looks like a bimbo from hell.
Looking at her was unpleasant, but reading about her was torture. Ritchie was quoted as saying, “Hilton told me that his wife was a prude about sex. He said I knew what pleased a man, and I wanted to please him. He was the center of my life, my world, my universe. He said I made him feel like a king. And I adored doing it.”
Now, of course, Alyssa portrayed herself as abandoned, neglected and unsure of her financial future—worried that she couldn’t even keep the condo and car and jewels he’d bought her. Never had a woman been so ill-used.
Penny took the tabloid down the where the ice and soda machines stood, tore it in half and stuffed it into the trashcan.
During the Chicago sojourn she talked daily to Bart, Will and Sawyer. Craig called, but when she’d see his number displayed, she refused to answer. It was painfully hard. She wanted the comforting sound of his low, sure voice. She wondered if he had news to tell her and if she should talk to him. But she didn’t. And she didn’t phone him.
On the last day, she and Maeve went to the Museum of Science and Industry. Maeve wanted to see what she called “the part about babies.” Perhaps she had expected cute little models of prenatal babies, but these unborn children were real. They had not survived because of natural causes or accidents, but that didn’t lessen Penny’s feeling of being surrounded by tiny ghosts, floating suspended in clinical-looking jars.
Penny immediately felt ill, and Maeve, too, began to look queasy. “I read that there’s a wonderful dollhouse here,” Maeve said. “Let’s go see that instead.”
Penny instantly agreed. But the baby exhibit haunted her, and she knew it would give her nightmares.
At last they were at the airport, waiting at their gate. Maeve confessed she was tired, unused to so much stimulation, so many new sights. “And I think,” she said softly, “I’m actually homesick. I miss our house. I always loved that house. I know I won’t be able to keep it. It’ll have to be sold as soon as they find Hilton and get him to sign the papers. If they ever find him….”
Penny put her arm around her. “We’ll find you a better place,” she promised. “The house is wonderful, but it’s too big. We’ll find you one just as lovely, only smaller.”
“Maybe Craig can help,” Maeve said. “He’s so good at practical things.”
“No,” Penny said, too abruptly. “We can’t lean on him forever.”
Maeve’s expression changed and she pushed down her sunglasses and gave Penny a stern look. “Did you talk to him during this trip?”
“No.” She didn’t want to try to explain why.
“Did he call you?”
“Yes.”
“But you wouldn’t answer?”
“No.”
“Penny,” Maeve said sadly, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. If your father had been half the man Craig is—a tenth of the man—none of this would have happened. Craig is extraordinary. Some smart woman is going to come along and snatch him up. Because he’ll be sick and tired of waiting for you to change your mind. Or at least have the courtesy to explain your mind. I swear, you’re as much a mystery to me as your father is.”
That hurt. It hurt a lot. Penny clenched her teeth. “That’s not fair,” she said, her muscles tensing nervously.
“You’re going to Martinsville with him,” Maeve pointed out. “You said so.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Isn’t that leading him on?” There was more than a hint of accusation in the question.
“No. It’ll be over after Martinsville. He and I can go our separate ways. And I don’t want to talk about it any longer. I have something to ask you.”
Maeve suddenly looked defensive. “What?”
“You said that you didn’t want me to start modeling professionally when I was so young. But Hilton did. And now you regret it. Why? And why did you let me go?”
“Well,” Maeve said, with an air of hedging, “you were certainly excited about the idea.”
“I was twelve years old,” Penny replied. “What did I know? And why’d Hilton want me to do it?”
“I’ve thought a lot about that lately,” Maeve admitted. “He had a big ego. He liked the idea of having a daughter so beautiful she could model.”
“That was all? His ego?”
“No,” Maeve said in a lower voice. “He said it was the opportunity of a lifetime. We’d be foolish to deny you the chance. And his sister had modeled. He was quite proud of that. She was very highly paid in her day.”
“I know,” said Penny. “I think Aunt Fran missed the life. That’s why she agreed to chaperone me. She got a sort of kick out of it. And she did a good job.”
Maybe too good a job. But she tried. Heaven knows, she tried.
Maeve took hold of a piece of her skirt and twisted it nervously. “He also said that you could make a lot of money. You’d be set for life. But, Penny, he was spending so much himself. And it was about the time he took up with that Ritchie woman. He always encouraged you to put your money in his stocks.”
Penny frowned. “You mean he wanted me to work so that he could use the money?”
“It’s a terrible thing to say. And I didn’t suspect it until all this happened.” She looked at Penny pleadingly. “He was insistent you go. You were so young. And then you were gone. My little girl, going off to places I’d only dreamed of seeing. Paris. London. Madrid. Rome. And when you’d come back, you weren’t really a little girl any longer. Now I wonder if we didn’t destroy your childhood. If we denied you a normal life—high school and proms and football games. A stable environment. Hilton gave you things. But he robbed you of things, as well. And I let him. For that, I can’t forgive myself.”
“I…I don’t know what to say,” Penny stammered. “The choices were made, and we can’t take them back. If we focus on the past, we can’t live in the present or plan for the future.”
“That’s a very good philosophy,” Maeve said, searching Penny’s face. “But can you live it? Not just talk it?”
Penny opened her mouth, but could say nothing.
Maeve said, “Honey, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but if our family—especially me—has caused the problems between you and Craig, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Penny, feeling stunned, took her mother’s hand. “You’re not responsible for the trouble between Craig and me. The responsibility is mine. All mine.”
She leaned and kissed Maeve’s velvety cheek. “Rest easy.”
But she knew the time had come. She needed to tell Craig the truth.
CHAPTER TWENTY
GERTY WELCOMED THEM HOME WITH affectionate hugs. Maeve, tired, went to the den to lie on the couch.
Penny looked worriedly at Gerty. “Are there any new magazines or newspapers lying around? I just want too make sure that there’s nothing that can upset her.”
“I checked everything,” Gerty said. “It all seems fine. Come, I’ll help you unpack. And tell you about some ‘visitors.’”
“The media?” Penny asked in distaste.
“When the media comes, I tell them to call the representative, then slam the door in their faces. But some friends of Maeve came, too. They all seemed truly concerned. They want her to come back to the bridge club, garden club and her charity work.”
“That’s kind of them,” Penny said, touched. “I don’t know if she wants to face anyone yet, but she’s got to soon. Maybe I can get her at least to write some thank-you notes.”
“That would be good,” Gerty said. “I suppose some people think she’s weak. But she isn’t. She’s like somebody who’s been in a bad accident. She needs time to heal.”
Like Lilly, thought Penny. She said, “I know. And I think Mom knows, too.”
“Craig came by, too,” said Gerty. “He asked me to give you this.”
Gerty reached into her apron pocket and drew out an envelope, which she handed to Penny. “I’ll let you read in private. I’ll go unpack Maeve’s things.”
“Thanks.” Penny took the envelope. Gerty, pulling Maeve’s suitcase, left her alone. Penny sat on the edge of the bed and drew a sheet of paper from the envelope.
Penny—
I hope the trip to Chicago was successful. If you’re still going to Martinsville with me tonight, give me a call. E.A. says he’ll take us in his amazing flying machine. He and I’ll stay with Will. Bart says you’re welcome to bunk in his motor home.
Craig
As she read it, her heart contracted in pain. No “Dear Penny,” no “Love, Craig.” He wrote like a man ready to say goodbye. And why shouldn’t he? She’d done everything to push him away. Now, it seemed she’d finally succeeded.
But instead of relief, she felt emptiness and a sense of self-betrayal. Perhaps she should cancel, just avoid seeing him as much as she could. But it wasn’t that easy. She’d vowed to tell him what she’d never wanted to tell anyone.
He deserved it. And then he could get on with his life, and she with hers.
THE MOMENT SHE SAW HIM AT THE airport, she wondered again if she’d made a terrible mistake. It was a cool, windy evening, and he stood by E.A.’s plane, wearing cowboy boots, jeans and a brown leather jacket over a blue-green shirt.
He looked so tall and handsome that her heart did a strange contortion, just like when she’d first seen him. The stiff breezes tousled his gold-streaked hair, and he didn’t look like a banker, but more like a cowboy keeping a weather eye on the horizon.
“Hi,” E.A. said, greeting her cheerfully. “Some turbulence. We may have a rocky start.”
Great, she thought with apprehension. But she forced a smile and said, “You’ll get us through it.”
“Tell that to Mr. Pessimist here.” E.A. darted a mocking glance at Craig.
Craig turned and looked at her, unsmiling. “Hello, Penny.”
“Hello. Weather make you nervous?” It wasn’t a tactful question, but seeing him undid her, and she couldn’t think straight, could only blurt out the first thing that came to mind.
“Thunderstorms predicted from here clear across Arkansas and Tennessee,” Craig growled.
“What about Martinsville?” she asked, realizing a serious rain could throw the whole race into jeopardy.
“Tonight, clear except for a light haze,” E.A. said. “Tomorrow’s supposed to be just about perfect.”
Shortly after they took off heavy rain started pelting the small plane. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.
One sudden swoop downward almost made Penny ill.
Slowly, though, the weather cleared until they were flying smoothly through a calm and starry night. Penny knew she was overreacting about the storm, but she felt as if she’d been given a second chance at life.
Craig turned to her. “Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded, her ears buzzing and her stomach a bit queasy.
“You sure?”
“I—I’ll be fine,” she said. “Just a little shaken up, that’s all.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, and touched her knee again.
Then he turned away, but her flesh tingled where his hand had rested. It still tingled when they saw the airport lights ahead of them, growing larger and brighter as they neared.
As soon as Penny was standing on solid earth again, her knees began to shake, and she had trouble holding steady. Craig wound one strong arm around her shoulders and guided them toward the terminal. She should have resisted, but she couldn’t.
ONE OF BART’S OFFICE STAFF WAS there to meet them, wearing a T-shirt in Bart’s colors—red and orange—and with Bart’s number on the front. This was Kayellen, a petite woman who had taken E.A.’s fancy at Bristol.
E.A. began asking her immediately about the upcoming race and got in the front seat beside her. She seemed delighted that he was so interested, and they talked all the way to the track. E.A. seemed no more nervous than if he’d just stepped off a city bus.
Penny and Craig sat in the backseat, making it a point neither to touch or talk. They sat stiffly.
When they arrived at the speedway, Kayellen flashed her ID and said she had family and friends visiting the Branch twins. The guard at the entrance waved them on.
Kayellen stopped at Bart’s place first. Both Bart and Will were waiting for them. The motor homes formed a small mobile community temporarily camped in their own area. Bart’s motor home was orange and white with discreet red trim. He and Will hugged Penny long and hard, then hugged Craig and shook hands with E.A.
“Come on in, everybody,” Bart said. “You can have a regular beer if you want, but I’m sticking to root beer. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
Once inside, Penny eyed Bart’s motor home with appreciation. It was as luxurious as most drivers’, but while some men went wild and gaudy with their interiors, Bart’s décor was low-key and restful. The primary color was a sandy tan, the trim white, and somebody had chosen wonderful art for the walls.
