At seven o’clock Celia debated about going to the Queen’s cocktail lounge, but then decided that she would. Even though she wanted a lot of time to herself, she also realized that the downside would be having too much time to think. Of course there would be some people from the New York area on board, but certainly the majority of passengers would neither know nor care about Steven’s hedge fund fraud.
The restaurant Steven had chosen for their first date was lovely. The maître d’ had greeted him by name. Steven had arranged for them to have a quiet table in an alcove near the back.
He had complimented the earrings I was wearing. When I told him they had been my mother’s, before I even realized it, I was sharing with him the story of losing both my parents.
Steven was so sympathetic. He said he rarely spoke about the tragedy in his life. He was also an only child. After his parents were killed in an automobile accident when he was ten, his loving grandparents had raised him in a small town twenty miles outside of Dallas. With a tear in his eye, he told me how his grandmother had died a few years earlier. She had been caring for his grandfather, who at the time was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. His grandfather, who no longer remembered him, was in a nursing home.
Steven shared with me a quote he had never forgotten. “I’m fiercely independent, but I’m afraid of being alone.” I had found a kindred spirit. I felt myself falling in love with Steven, falling in love with a lie.
She did not change from the light blue jacket and slacks she had worn aboard. A narrow gold necklace and diamond stud earrings and the ring that had been her mother’s were the only jewelry she was wearing. She remembered what her father had said when he gave the ring to her on her sixteenth birthday.
“I know you can’t remember her, but this is the first birthday gift I ever gave your mother, the year we were married.”
She took the elevator up to the Queen’s Lounge, and as she had expected, it was almost full. But there was a table for two that the waiter was clearing and she walked over to it. By the time she got there, it was ready, and in a moment a waiter was waiting to take her order.
She decided on a glass of Chardonnay, then began looking around the room, recognizing some celebrity faces. A voice asked courteously, “Are you expecting someone? And if not, may I share your table? The salon is busy and this seems to be the only seat available.”
Celia looked up. A thin, balding man of medium height was standing there. His polite request had been delivered in a well-modulated tone of voice, with an unmistakable British accent.
“Of course you may,” she said, forcing a smile. As he pulled out the chair, he said, “I know you are Celia Kilbride and will be lecturing on famous gemstones. And I am your fellow lecturer Henry Longworth. My subject is the Bard, Shakespeare, and the psychology of the characters in his plays.”
This time Celia’s smile was genuine. “Oh, I’m so glad to meet you. I loved studying Shakespeare in school and even memorized some of his sonnets.” As the waiter returned with her Chardonnay, Longworth waited, ordered a Johnny Walker Blue scotch on the rocks, then turned his full attention to Celia.
“And which was your favorite sonnet?”
“ ‘Thou art thy mother’s glass . . . , ’ ” she began.
“ ‘And she in thee recalls the lovely April of her prime,’ ” Longworth finished.
“Of course, you know it,” Celia said.
“May I ask, why is it your favorite?”
“My mother died when I was two years old. When I was about sixteen, my father recited it to me. And looking at her picture and mine, they’re almost interchangeable.”
“Then your mother must have been a very beautiful woman,” Longworth observed matter-of-factly. “Did your father remarry?”
Celia felt the glistening of tears begin to form in her eyes. How did I ever get into this conversation? she asked herself.
“No, he never did.” To forestall any more personal questions, she said, “He died two years ago.”
The words still sounded unreal to her.
Daddy was only fifty-six, she thought. He never was sick a day in his life, but then he had a massive heart attack and was gone.
And if he were alive, he’d have seen right through Steven, she thought.
“I’m very sorry,” Longworth said. “I know how painful that loss must be for you. Let me say that I am so glad that we are not speaking at the same time. I am very much looking forward to hearing your lecture tomorrow. Since I am a student of the wonderful Elizabethan era, tell me, do you cover any jewelry from that period?”
“Yes, I do.”
“At your young age, how did you become such an expert?”
They were now on safe ground.
“I learned about gems from my father,” she said. “From the time I was three, what I wanted most for Christmas and birthdays was necklaces and bracelets for my dolls and me. My father was at first amused, and then realized I was fascinated by jewelry and began teaching me how to evaluate gems. Then after taking some geology and mineralogy courses in college, I went for my diploma in gemology and became an FGA, Fellow of the Gemological Association of Great Britain.”
As the waiter arrived with Longworth’s drink, Lady Em stopped at the table. She was wearing a triple pearl necklace and pearl earrings. Celia knew how valuable they were. Lady Em had brought them to Carruthers last month to be cleaned and restrung.
She began to get up, but Lady Em put a hand on her shoulder. “Please don’t, Celia. I just wanted to say that I have requested that both of you be placed at my table in the dining room.”
She glanced at Longworth. “I know this lovely young lady,” she told him, “and I know your reputation as a Shakespearean scholar. It will be good to share your company.” Without waiting for an answer, she swept past them with a man and two women in tow behind her.
“And who is that?” Longworth asked.
“That’s Lady Emily Haywood,” Celia explained. “She is a bit imperious, but I can assure you she’s delightful company.” She watched as Lady Em was escorted to a vacant table by the window. “She must have reserved that one,” she said.
“Who are the people with her?” Longworth asked.
“I don’t know the other two, but the larger woman is Brenda Martin, Lady Em’s personal assistant.”
“Lady Em, as you call her, seems to be rather authoritative,” Longworth observed dryly, “but I don’t regret being at her table. It should be quite interesting.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will be,” Celia agreed.
“Miss Kilbride.” A waiter came up behind her. He was holding a phone in his hand. “A call for you,” he said as he handed it to her.
“A call for me,” Celia said, surprised. Don’t let it be Steven again, she prayed.
It was Randolph Knowles, the lawyer she had hired when she was contacted by the FBI to give a deposition. Why would he be calling? she asked herself.
“Hello, Randolph, is there a problem?”
“Celia, I have to give you a heads-up. Steven has given a long interview to People magazine. It will come out the day after tomorrow. He claims you knew he was defrauding your friends. They called me asking for a comment. I declined. The article states that you and Steven laughed together about it!”
Celia felt her body go cold. “Dear God, how could he?” she breathed.
“Try not to be too upset. Everyone knows he’s a congenital liar. My source in the U.S. Attorney’s Office told me you are not currently a person of interest, but it is possible they will ask the FBI to interview you again about some of the information in the article. No matter what happens I’m afraid there is going to be some nasty publicity. A strong argument in our favor is that you invested a quarter of a million dollars in his hedge fund.”
A quarter of a million dollars, the money her father had left her in his will. Every nickel she had.
“I’ll keep you posted.” He sounds worried, she thought. He’s only a few years out of law school. I wonder if it was a mistake to hire him. He may be in over his head.
“Thanks, Randolph.” She handed the phone to the waiter.
“Celia, you look troubled,” Longworth said. “Is there anything wrong?”
“Try everything,” Celia told him as the chimes indicated that dinner was being served.