Los Angeles, California
AFTER ELENA STORMED away from the restaurant, Jake spent a restless night thinking about her. In retrospect, he realized he had been inconsiderate. Although he hadn’t planned on it, he had asked her out for dinner, and she had taken the time to get ready.
Besides that, she’d really looked amazing. So good, in fact, it had scared him. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for a relationship again. If Penelope filed a claim—and he couldn’t imagine that she wouldn’t unless the thieves were apprehended—then Elena would be part of an investigation.
That could be a problem.
He was shaving when the phone rang.
“Good morning, darling,” his mother said, her dulcet-toned voice sweeping across the phone lines. “I’m calling to confirm our lunch date for today and make sure you’re not out catching bad guys.”
“Today’s a good day,” he said, juggling his phone and razor. “I’ll see you at noon.”
“I’ll have to go to the bank, and after lunch I’d also like to stop at a store.”
“Mom, I don’t have much time for shopping today.”
“It will only take ten minutes, I promise.”
“Where do you need to go?” He frowned at the mirror. Her ten minutes could easily stretch into an hour. Even though he owned the company, he still had appointments to keep.
“Just a little shop,” she said vaguely. “See you soon.”
A little before noon, Jake made his way to his mother’s home. He’d been born when his mother was forty, and now at seventy-five, he was acutely aware that her time was limited. She’d beat breast cancer once—and gave generously to support cancer research—but many of her older actor friends had passed on.
Now he made a point of having a weekly lunch with her when he was in town. It was a couple of hours out of his day, but it meant so much to her. And to him.
Barbara Charles was well known around town, and although she didn’t have the rabid fan base that younger stars who lived on social media had, she was still recognized and admired.
She’d been living in Beverly Hills north of Sunset Boulevard for fifty years. She knew most of the shopkeepers and their children, and she loved to stop in to say hello. He was a hometown kid, too, having graduated from Beverly Hills High School.
“Mom, I’m here,” he called out as he stepped inside the white marble foyer of her home, which looked more like an upscale hotel lobby or a movie set rather than a private home. That was the Barbara Charles image, and she lived it fully.
Twin staircases curved to the second story. White sofa and chair groupings anchored collector-quality Persian rugs in the cavernous living room, and palm trees potted in antique Chinese fish pots stood on mahogany legs. An eclectic collection of paintings by friends throughout her life lined the walls. A Palm Springs watercolor by Tony Bennett, a sad clown by Red Skelton, a cubist by Picasso, and a pastoral landscape by Winston Churchill. Beyond walls of glass, the sparkling infinity pool stretched out in the ample rolling emerald grounds of the estate.
He’d grown up here, but it had looked different then, more chintz and plaid. Then came the Asian phase, then modernist decor, and now she was in what she called her white phase. She redecorated every decade or so just for the fun of it.
As Jake was studying a Hawaiian-themed painting, Barbara descended the stairs wearing a cream dress and pearls, and holding her jewelry case in her hands. “Like it? That’s one of my new acquisitions,” she said. “Anthony Hopkins. I just love his brilliant use of color.”
“I didn’t know you knew him.”
“Darling, I know almost everyone, or they know me,” Barbara replied, laughing. “With their art on the walls, it’s like having all my friends around me.” She whirled around, her hands raised to her shoulders, her twin pearl bracelets luminous in the filtered light.
Jake smiled and kissed her on the cheek. Her positive energy had kept her at the forefront of Hollywood for years. Alfred Hitchcock once said that her personality leapt from the screen. She’d been friends with everyone from Shirley Temple to Marilyn Monroe, and Oprah Winfrey to Jennifer Lawrence. Nearly every night of the week found her at a different party, art opening, or private screening.
“Let’s drop off the mega-watt jewelry at the vault first,” she said. She liked to keep her most expensive jewelry in the bank vault. He’d made sure her home had sophisticated security, but she had her habits. Although she had a safe in her home, a visit to the vault was a social outing for her.
After arriving at the bank, Barbara glided through the lobby, the creamy chiffon scarf wrapped around her neck fluttering behind her. Pearl-and-diamond earrings and an opera-length pearl strand complemented her outfit.
“Darling, it’s wonderful to see you,” she said to an immaculately dressed older gentleman who sat across the desk from a private banker. She kissed him on the cheek.
“Babs, lovely as always.”
Jake caught him looking admiringly at her legs under her flowing silk dress. He suppressed a chuckle. His Mom still had her admirers.
Smiling warmly, she said, “We have to uphold our standards, don’t we?”
Her own private bankers greeted her warmly, and other tellers and patrons said hello. She stopped to talk to several people, and then descended the stairway to the bank vaults on the lower level.
While she was inside a private room depositing her jewelry, Jake kept a sharp eye out. The bank tellers had been robbed many years ago, but no one had ever made it to the safety deposit boxes. Even so, he knew the risk was present. With stylists and stars returning impressive jewelry to the vaults after the Academy Awards, this would be a prime target to hit.
After she emerged, Jake drove her to one of her favorite restaurants, Spago, where they had a table reserved in the courtyard. This too, had been one of her long-time traditions, dating back to when it was the Bistro Gardens.
The chef and owner, Wolfgang Puck, stopped to greet her. She’d known him since before he’d opened his first restaurant above Sunset Boulevard. As he kissed her hand, Barbara beamed. She was in her element.
A small split of champagne was delivered to the table, and the server poured a flute for her. “I do wish you’d join me,” she said as Jake raised a glass of sparkling water to her.
“I’m on duty, Mom, and someone has to be your designated driver.”
“That’s why I need to find another driver,” she said with a sigh.
He ordered their favorite lunch, the Maine lobster salad for her and Puck’s famous cold pizza with salmon, cream cheese, and caviar for himself. They had their traditions, and his mother liked it that way.
After the server left, she sipped her champagne, eyeing him over her glass. “I’m glad you always look nice when we go out. You have no idea how much that means to me. One of my friend’s children met her for dinner in torn jeans and a t-shirt. Imagine! You’d never do that.”
“Not to you.” He knew better around Lady Barbara. She’d actually been knighted, but she’d earned the moniker among the household staff long before that.
She looked alarmed. “Not to any woman, I should hope. Not when you ask them out to dinner.”
The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he thought about last night with Elena. “If how I’m dressed makes that much of a difference to a woman, then she’s not the one for me.”
“Maybe that’s why I don’t have any grandchildren.”
“Now, Mom,” he said.
A hurt expression filled her eyes, and she shrugged. “If only I could have time to play with a grandchild before it’s my time to go.”
“Here comes the guilt. Your mother lived to be a hundred.”
“My mother never had…you know.”
Jake sighed. He did know, all too well. “We’re all on borrowed time, Mom. I could go tomorrow.”
“Even more reason.” She glanced at him through half-lidded eyes. “That young woman I met, Elena, seemed awfully nice. Genuine. Talented. Why not ask her out?”
Jake sighed. She’d probably hear it from one of her friends that he had been at the Waldorf Astoria. Nothing got past her in this town. “Actually, I did.”
“Really?” She clapped her hands. “You’ve just added ten years to my life.”
“Don’t get too excited. It didn’t go that well.”
“Why not?” Barbara looked stunned. “She’s lovely, and you’re…well, mostly well-mannered.”
“I don’t think she would’ve agreed with you last night.”
“What did you do?”
“For starters, it wasn’t exactly a date. We were going to walk to Starbucks.”
“In the morning?”
“No, it was seven at night.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And how was she dressed?”
“I don’t know. A dark dress.”
“Wool, cotton, or silk?”
He placed his hands on the table. “What is this?”
“Answer the question.”
“Silk. Maybe satin. Kind of clingy.” In all the right places.
“High heels?”
“Very.” And gorgeous legs.
“When did you ask her out?”
When his mother frowned at him, he answered. “Earlier that day.”
“And you did you say coffee or dinner?”
“Well, dinner, I guess. But I didn’t specify what kind of dinner.”
“Ah ha,” she said triumphantly. “It was a date. And what did you wear?”
Jake peered around. “I think we need more water.”
Drumming her manicured nails on the tablecloth, she said, “You showed up in jeans and thought you were going to pawn off coffee on her when you’d made a date? I’m mortified. I’m sure she was, too. You got cold feet, didn’t you?”
“Mom, it wasn’t like that.”
“Then how was it?”
Jake drew a hand across his forehead. He’d swear his mother had a crystal ball. All his life she’d been able to extract details from people. She would’ve made a great attorney. Or maybe he should add her to his staff. “Pretty much like that,” he admitted.
“At this rate, I’ll never have…well, you know what I mean.” She nodded to the server, who refilled her champagne from the small split in the ice bucket. “Are you at least going to help her find her jewelry?”
“In this case, that’s a job for the police and the FBI.”
“Then why were you at Penelope Plessen’s house talking to her and her boyfriend yesterday?”
“How did you know…?”
“Housekeeper network. Ours are sisters.”
“This town is way too small—”
“Something was said about a claim?”
“Mom, that’s confidential.”
“Darling, would you rather I misconstrue half the story?”
Jake lifted his gaze heavenward. “All I’m saying is that anyone who carries insurance can file a claim.”
Barbara watched the bubbles in her glass in thought. “Then you’d have to investigate and establish value. You’d have to talk to Elena.” Her eyes widened and she leaned forward. “That’s what you were trying to do? You know, I spoke to Penelope at the party. I’ll tell you right now that jewelry is the real deal.” She snapped her napkin. “And so is Elena.”
Jake lifted his shoulders and let them fall. He wished half the people who worked for him were as good as she was.
Fortunately, the food arrived, and the conversation turned to the film that had won Best Picture. Jake listened as his mother elucidated the fine points of the film. Not only had she acted, but she’d also directed and produced quite a few films.
After they ate, Barbara reminded Jake of his promise to take her by a shop. He collected his Jaguar from the valet attendant, and then turned onto Wilshire Boulevard. As he neared Robertson, his mother instructed him to turn.
“There’s a space,” she said, pointing to a vacant spot near Elena’s shop.
Dutifully, he parked and helped her from the car. Walking toward Elena’s shop, his mother’s plan became evident.
He shook his head, amused at her, yet dreading Elena’s reaction. I deserve this. As they drew closer, he saw the dark blue velvet drapes at the front windows were drawn.
“Why, it’s closed,” Barbara said, slowing her pace. “That’s odd. I wonder if she’s okay.”
“Can I help you?” A voice with a slight Irish accent rang out behind them.
Jake turned. “We were looking for—wait, we met at the party didn’t we?”
The tall redhead in a lime green dress inclined her head. “Not officially. I’m Fianna Fitzgerald.”
Barbara pushed past him. “Fianna, darling. The dress you designed for Penelope was utterly gorgeous. Masterful. Aimee couldn’t stop raving, told everyone at the Governor’s Ball. I’ve been meaning to call you about a few summer frocks. And of course, I simply had to visit Elena. I really want to see her work.”
Jake shook his head. Was there anyone his mother didn’t know?
“She’ll be sorry she missed you both,” Fianna said, worry creasing her face. “She took off for Sydney late last night.”
Jake jerked his head up. “In Australia?”
Fianna slid a glance toward Jake. “Last time I checked.”
He ran his hands over the slight stubble that was already appearing on his jawline. Elena had just fled the country. Not a good sign. He touched his mother’s arm. “Mom, it’s time to go.” Remembering his manners, he added, “Fianna, it was nice meeting you.”
Before his mother could protest, he steered her back to the car.
Once inside, Barbara sighed and said, “Mission aborted. We’ll just have to try again when she returns.”
Driving north toward Sunset, he said, “Mom, you always see the best in people. But I’ve learned they’re not always what they seem.”
“Sweetheart, I know that. I can spot an actor a mile away.”
That’s just it. As far as he was concerned, Elena wasn’t acting. This trip proved she was actually what he suspected. He knew insurance fraud in his gut when he saw it, and he’d never been wrong yet.
Shane Wallace came to mind. There may have been accomplices in the robbery, too. The puzzle was taking shape. He made a note to call his buddy on the force after he took his mother home. In fact, he had several calls to make.
Jake had another idea, too. Australia had a bilateral extradition treaty with the U.S. He’d had to chase more than one criminal who’d fled the country.
But never one as intriguing and lovely as Elena.
If only the situation were different...