Fifteen
Florence speared four pancakes from the platter with her fork, deposited them on her plate, and wandered over to the kitchen table, lost in thought.
“Murder . . . death.” She shook her head. “I don’t think we have it like this in Trinidad.”
Jane set down her coffee mug and regarded her skeptically. “Come now, Florence. Murder is everywhere; you know that as well as I do.”
“Perhaps, missus, perhaps. But it certainly seems to be following you around lately.”
Jane frowned, troubled. “That’s what Laura said,” she murmured.
Florence poured syrup over her pancakes and took a big bite. “Mm, missus, with pancakes you have what my dear mother calls ‘the touch.’ ”
“Why, thank you, Florence.”
From the family room came the sound of Nick calling to Winky.
“Let’s not talk about the murders anymore,” Jane whispered to Florence. “Nick!” Jane called. “Come for breakfast.”
“You mean Nick and Winky,” Nick said, appearing in the kitchen doorway with the ball of tortoiseshell fur in his arms.
“Yes, sorry. Nick and Winky.” Jane smiled.
Florence brought Nick a plateful of pancakes and poured him some milk.
“Forgetting someone?” he said innocently.
“Ah, how thoughtless of me!” Florence cried, and got another plate, onto which she dropped several pancakes. She placed the plate on the table near Nick, and Winky jumped up to examine its contents.
“Syrup, Wink?” Nick asked her.
She looked up at him and gave a tiny mew.
“Winky would like some syrup, please,” he told Florence.
“Here you are,” she said, handing him the bottle.
“Just a little,” Jane said, remembering what she’d paid for that bottle at Pathmark.
Nick drizzled syrup onto Winky’s pancakes.
“So, tell us about this Goddess, missus,” Florence said, and took a sip of her coffee. “Is she as outrageous as everyone says?”
“She’s pretty outrageous,” Jane replied, “though I’m not sure that’s quite the word I’d use. Perhaps rude or bratty would be more accurate.”
“She is very young,” Florence pointed out.
“Not that young,” Jane said. “She’s what—twenty-five?”
“No one knows for sure,” Florence said. “That’s part of her mystique.”
“Mystique! Please.” Jane rolled her eyes. “She’s a fresh brat who needs a good spanking.”
“Spanking is bad,” Nick interjected. “Did you know you could be arrested for spanking me?”
“Have I ever spanked you?” Jane asked him.
“No.”
“I didn’t mean it literally,” she went on. “What I mean is that she’s obviously been spoiled her whole life, and now that she’s a star, she has absolutely no limits. She says what she wants, goes where she wants, buys what she wants, and doesn’t give a darn what anyone thinks of her.” She laughed. “Come to think of it, I’d like to live that way!”
“Really, missus? Do you mean that?”
“Yes . . .” Jane said thoughtfully, “except that if I were Goddess, I would try to respect people’s feelings when I spoke. And I would get into therapy for—some of my bad habits.”
“What bad habits?” Nick asked, eyes innocently wide.
Jane wouldn’t tell him about the shoplifting. “Just the way she behaves,” she said vaguely.
“Her dad invented the Hammer. Did you know that, Mom?”
“Yes, Carl Hamner. Rich as Croesus. That’s what I was talking about.”
“So much money,” Florence said, pouring Nick some more milk. “I just cannot imagine it. With all that money, she doesn’t have to work, doesn’t have to do her songs and films and plays and things, but she still does. Why do you think that is, missus?”
“Because,” Jane said, “she’s a genius!”
Nick and Florence both looked at her, frowning.
Jane laughed. “That’s what the waiter said after my brunch with Goddess on Wednesday. She is exceptionally talented. And she must love her work, since she obviously doesn’t do it for the money.”
The phone rang. Florence answered it.
“Missus, it’s for you. It’s Daniel.”
Jane took the phone, smiling. “It’s Saturday, Daniel. You don’t have to work today.”
He laughed. “I’m not. Well, actually, this afternoon I am planning to read Tanya Selman’s new manuscript. But I’m not calling about work. I want to ask you a favor.”
“Of course! What is it?”
“Can I come over and see you?”
What on earth can it be? she wondered. “Certainly. Name your time.”
“How about in half an hour?”
“You got it. I’ll keep the coffee hot.”
Sitting on the sofa in Jane’s study off the living room, Daniel, in khaki shorts and a T-shirt, sipped coffee from his mug.
“So shoot,” Jane said. “What’s the favor?” She smiled. “You know I’ll do it.”
He set down his mug on the end table, his face growing serious. “Thanks, Jane. I think I mentioned to you that Laura has no family.”
“Yes.”
“So she has no mother, no aunt, no sister—no one to help her get ready for the wedding. I think she’d really like some help, but she’s too proud to ask for it. So I thought, well, that it would be perfect if you would help her. You know, picking out her gown, that sort of thing. After all, you’re like family to us.”
“Of course. I’ll be delighted to help her,” Jane said. “As long as you’re sure she’d really want me to.”
“I’m sure she would. I haven’t asked her yet, of course, because first I wanted to make sure you were willing. But you know she’s extremely fond of you.”
“Is she?” This was a surprise. Jane had never picked up any vibes either way from Laura.
“Absolutely,” Daniel said. “And thank you, Jane. I’ll speak to her.” He paused, looking troubled about something. “Now I need another favor from you, Jane. Your opinion.”
“You know I’ve always got plenty of those!”
“Thanks. You know I respect your judgment more than anyone else’s.” He looked down, as if unsure where to begin. “Jane,” he said at last, “my father called me.”
She stared at him. “Your father. I thought your father was dead.”
“No, my father’s not dead. You probably thought that because I never talk about him. But he’s very much alive. For the past seven years, though, we’ve been . . . I guess you’d say estranged.”
Jane waited.
“Anyway,” Daniel said, “he called to ask to come to our wedding. He said he wanted to correct some mistakes he’d made in his relationship with me. I . . . said yes.”
“I think that was the right answer. But how did he even know about the wedding?”
Daniel looked uneasy. “When I tell you who my father is, you’ll understand. Jane, have you ever heard of Onyx, the magazine for African-Americans?”
“Of course I’ve heard of Onyx,” she said with a little laugh. “It’s one of the leading magazines in the country.”
“In the world, actually. My father owns it. Founded it, in fact.”
Jane just stared at him, stunned. Daniel Willoughby. Everyone knew that the founder and owner of Onyx was Cecil Willoughby.
Jane leaned forward. “But—but Cecil Willoughby . . . he’s one of the richest people in the country.”
Daniel smiled, looking almost apologetic.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Jane said. “If Cecil Willoughby is your father, why the hell have you been toiling away for the past four and a half years as my assistant? Why have you been living in a rented apartment? Why are you—forgive me—always short of money?”
“Because,” Daniel replied, “as I’ve told you, my father and I are not on good terms. I don’t have any of his money, and I don’t want it.”
“Well I sure as hell would! What’s the problem?”
“While I was in my second year at Yale, I told my father, as gently as I could, that I had no interest in taking over the running of the magazine when I graduated. That had always been the plan. My father was very hurt. He took my decision as a personal affront; I’d rejected his dream of passing along his empire to his son. Just the same, he begrudgingly offered to provide me with an income. I turned down his offer. That offended him even more. From that day on, I’ve had no contact with him. Obviously, however, he’s had people watching over me—he’s always made liberal use of private investigators—and that’s how he found out about the wedding.”
Jane took a deep breath and big gulp of coffee, trying to take this all in. “Wow. I think it’s sweet that he’s been watching over you.”
“Sweet? Hah! Believe me, my father’s no guardian angel. He’s a tough, powerful son of a gun. How else do you think he became a multimillionaire? If he’s been watching over me, it’s been for his own reasons—like wanting to see if I showed any signs of giving up my chosen career to take over his. He desperately wants me to run that magazine.
“Anyway,” he said, rising, “obviously you think I did the right thing by saying he could come to our wedding.”
“Yes,” Jane said, smiling sentimentally, “I do.”
“Thanks, Jane—for agreeing to help Laura, and for the feedback. I’ll see myself out—and I’ll see you at the office Monday.”
She watched him leave the room. Then she sat, mug in hand, smiling fatuously, still stunned by what he had told her, a single word rattling around in her head: multimillionaire.
Twenty minutes later the phone rang. Jane picked it up. It was Laura.
“Jane, that’s so great of you to want to help me,” Laura gushed. “You know I have no mother, so you can be my mother!”
“Your mother figure. I’m not that old.”
Laura laughed. “You know what I mean. The first thing I need is my gown. Could you help me pick one out?”
“Sure. When were you thinking of going?”
“Well . . . how about this afternoon?”
Jane hadn’t expected to be called into service so soon, but Nick would be at his friend Aaron’s house for most of the day. “That would be just fine. In fact, now that I think about it, the sooner the better, what with fittings and everything. Where were you thinking of looking?”
“Well, there are several really beautiful shops in New York I’d like to try.”
“Okay.” Then Jane remembered her luncheon date at Goddess’s pied-à-terre. “Laura, I just thought of something. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve just remembered I’m having lunch with Goddess in New York this afternoon. I guess I forgot to mention it to Daniel. I almost forgot myself!”
“We could do it another day.” Laura sounded disappointed.
“No, we can still go today, but would you mind terribly if I leave you on your own for a couple of hours while I go to this lunch? Then we can meet up again afterward.”
“That would be fine,” Laura said, brightening. “I’m sure I can find something to do.”
They agreed that Jane would pick her up in about an hour and that they would drive into the city. Jane hurried upstairs and changed into a copper-colored watered-silk suit she deemed appropriate for her lunch with Goddess. She drove Nick over to Aaron’s house, then headed for Daniel and Laura’s apartment.
On the way, Jane reflected that she was glad to have this opportunity to get to know Daniel’s fiancée better. Jane had always felt a tension between her and Laura, a tension that had only worsened when, last fall, Daniel had turned down the high-paying job offer from Silver and Payne.
Jane knew that Laura, though always supportive of Daniel’s idealistic career goals, harbored a slight resentment toward Jane. Daniel had told Jane that for years Laura had wanted a wedding, a house, a child; but they’d been unable to afford any of these things. If Daniel had taken the job at Silver and Payne, all of these things would have been possible. Well, now she was getting the wedding and the child; the house would have to come later—unless Daniel made peace with his father.
Jane’s impression of Laura had always been that she was a bit shallow; yet Jane couldn’t imagine the deep Daniel being in love with a shallow woman. Turning left onto Packer Road, where Daniel and Laura lived on the top floor of a two-family house, Jane resolved to get to know Laura better, to find her best qualities and learn to like her more. To make her her friend.
Jane had no sooner pulled into the driveway than Laura came bounding out of the house in jeans and an oversize T-shirt.
To Jane’s surprise, Laura gave her a kiss on the cheek as she got into the car. “Thanks, Jane. Really.”
Jane waved away her thanks. “It’s my pleasure.” She continued on Packer and got onto Route 46 East.
“Isn’t this fun?” Laura said. “Girls’ day out! We can gossip and everything.”
“I never turn down good gossip,” Jane said with gusto.
“Me, neither. Daniel hates gossip, but I bet he’d learn to like it if he had to work with boring old pharmaceuticals all day, like me.”
“I see your point. Then what’s my excuse?”
They both laughed.
“So,” Jane said, “got anything juicy?”
“Well . . .” Laura’s eyes gleamed devilishly as she fingered a pendant she’d worn for as long as Jane had known her. “At my company—you know, Unimed—there’s been talk about Ernie Zabriskie.”
Jane stiffened, but kept her smile pleasant. “Oh?”
“Whoa yeah! There’s this woman I work with, Grace. Grace is friends with another woman at the company, this sleazy type who lives in Lake Hiawatha.” Lake Hiawatha was right next to Shady Hills. “Turns out this woman—her name is Abby—was having an affair with Ernie, when all of a sudden he dumped her!”
Jane, disturbed at this turn in the conversation and wanting to protect Louise, pretended to be shocked. “You’ve got to be kidding! Pudgy little Ernie, who’s so devoted to Louise?” The skunk. “No way!”
“Oh, yes way,” Laura said. “Don’t let that chubby exterior fool you. You, of all people, should know better than to judge a book by its cover. In fact, apparently this wasn’t Ernie’s first fling.” She looked thoughtful. “I feel bad for Louise.”
“Me, too,” Jane agreed, and said nothing more about it.
Emerging from the Lincoln Tunnel, Jane drove north and parked at a Quick Park on West Forty-sixth Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues. At the corner of Forty-sixth and Eighth, Jane called Goddess to confirm lunch.
“ ‘Course we’re still on,” Goddess said, her voice flat. “I’m looking forward to it. But you’re a little early.”
“I know that. I’m with my friend Laura. You met her at the Carol Freund party. Daniel’s fiancée. We’re doing some shopping—for her wedding gown, in fact.”
“Bring her along,” Goddess said.
Jane was surprised. “Are you sure? Didn’t you want to talk business? Laura really doesn’t mind being on her own for a few hours.”
“I don’t mind talking biz in front of her. Tell her she’s gotta come.”
Jane pressed the phone to her chest and turned to Laura. “She wants you to come to lunch.”
Laura looked surprised, then pleased, her eyes widening. “Sure!”
“All right, that will be very nice. Thank you,” Jane said, and hung up.
“Yipes,” Laura said as they started across Eighth Avenue. “Lunch with Goddess!”
They went first to Priscilla of Boston, where Laura tried on several gowns but liked none of them. She was quite petite and had a lovely figure, and to Jane she looked smashing in everything she modeled. But Laura clearly had a certain look in mind, and wasn’t prepared to rest until she’d found it.
“Okay,” Laura said as they emerged from the third shop. “Next is Janine Dray up Madison. Do we have time?”
Jane checked her watch. It was just after eleven-thirty, and Goddess wasn’t expecting them till one. “Sure,” Jane said. “But Janine Dray . . . I mean, it’s gorgeous stuff, but pricey.”
Laura shrugged carelessly. “How many times does a girl get married?” And before Jane could respond with a sarcastic remark, Laura answered her own question: “Once, for this girl, and she’s gonna look the way she’s always dreamed of looking.”
They hailed a cab and rode up Madison to the exclusive shop. Laura tried on two gowns, frowning no at each of them. Then she emerged in a breathtaking Christian Lacroix—billowy, low cut, topped with a huge hat covered with a bridal veil. She was beaming. Jane had to admit it was the most beautiful gown Laura had tried on so far.
“Isn’t it heaven?” Laura breathed. “Daniel will flip.”
“It’s heaven, all right,” Jane said. “And I’ll bet the price is sky-high.”
Both Laura and the saleslady frowned disapprovingly at Jane for bringing up so vulgar a subject as money.
“Well, I—” Laura looked inquiringly at the saleslady.
The woman told them the price, her tone faintly belligerent.
“Holy smoke!” Jane said with a laugh. She turned to Laura. “You want me take out a second mortgage on my house for you?”
Neither Laura nor the saleslady saw anything funny in her remark.
“I’ll take it,” Laura said.
Jane gaped at her. “Laura! Are you sure. Can you—”
Laura was already reaching for her bag on a nearby chair. She brought out a MasterCard. “Charge it,” she told the saleslady.
Jane held her tongue. Arrangements were made for Laura to come in during the week for her first fitting. Then she and Jane left the shop.
“Laura,” Jane said as soon as they got outside, “I don’t mean to stick my nose into your business, but don’t you think that gown is a bit beyond your budget?”
“I told you. A girl—”
“Only gets married once. If you say so.” Jane checked her watch. “We’d better get over to Goddess’s now. She’s on East Eighty-second between Fifth and Madison. We can walk it.”
They started west, Laura leading the way. Jane, regarding her from behind, shook her head.
Goddess’s pied-à-terre was a four-story town house. A uniformed maid led Jane and Laura from a stark white-marble foyer into an equally stark sitting room. The walls and ceiling were bright white, the floor was dark polished wood, and the only furniture were two immense black-and-yellow-striped sofas that reminded Jane of bumblebees, and between them a coffee table consisting of a boulder with a flattened, polished top.
“Cozy,” Jane said.
“I heard that!”
They jumped and turned toward the doorway. Goddess stood in its center, arms folded. She wore a white kimono, her hair piled on the top of her head and held in place with at least half a dozen shiny black chopsticks. Suddenly she threw back her head and laughed, sauntering into the room as if she were wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. “Had you there, didn’t I?” She perched on the coffee table and regarded them. “You think I give a damn what anybody thinks of this place? I don’t even give a damn about this place.”
Jane and Laura looked at her in puzzlement.
“It’s very . . .” Laura began, but trailed off, apparently unsure what it was.
“It’s worth millions, of course,” Goddess said nonchalantly. “I bought it last year with the money I made from Goddess at Large.” She turned to Laura. “Did you see me in that?”
“Of course,” Laura said. “Daniel and I both did. It was hysterical.”
“Mm.” Goddess reached under the sash of her kimono and drew out a pack of Camels. Then she pulled out a Bic lighter and lit a cigarette, drawing on it deeply. “This place used to belong to a Saudi arms dealer. He got tired of it—or his latest wife did—so they sold it to me. It’s got a pool, theater, the works. Handy while I’m doing the play.”
She was referring, of course, to Goddess of Love, her Broadway show.
“I thought maybe this place belonged to your parents,” Laura said.
Goddess turned on her viciously. “Well it doesn’t! My parents are not part of my life, and I don’t want anything of theirs. Got that?”
“Yes,” Laura said, fear in her eyes.
Goddess smiled. “Let’s eat.”
She led them to the back of the sitting room, where on the right there was an arched entrance to a dining room. This room was as ornate as the sitting room was spare, decorated in pure Louis XIV. Passing a massive sideboard, Jane noticed row upon row of oddly common trinkets: half a dozen Max Factor lipsticks standing like soldiers, a package of cuticle sticks, a transparent yellow-plastic pencil sharpener, a package of Silly Putty, a thimble. Undoubtedly the spoils of Goddess’s pilfering.
The table was set with a lavish array of sliced cold chicken, salads, and fruit. Goddess sat at the head of the table, Jane and Laura to each side of her. The maid appeared and offered them food from the trays, then asked if they would like wine with lunch. Laura and Jane both asked for mineral water.
“So,” Goddess said, smoking her cigarette and ignoring the food on her plate, “since we’re on the subject of parents, tell me about yours, Laura. You gonna have them at your wedding? Got a big family?”
Laura stared at her, openmouthed. “I—I’m an orphan,” she replied quietly. “The people on my side of the wedding will be just friends.”
What an odd turn of conversation, Jane thought, and decided to try to steer the talk to the reason for the lunch—preparing for their meeting with Hamilton Kiels.
“Would you like to go over what we’ll discuss at our meeting with Hamilton Kiels on Monday?” Jane asked Goddess.
“No.” Goddess puffed, blew smoke in Jane’s face.
Jane felt an overpowering urge to slap her, but restrained herself.
“But I thought that’s why we were getting together,” Jane pointed out politely.
“What’s to discuss? We go, we schmooze, we have a meeting. I write a book. People buy it. I get richer.”
Jane smiled a tiny smile. “I wish it were that easy.”
“With me, babe,” Goddess said, fixing Jane with a frank gaze, “it is.” She picked up her fork and toyed with a slice of chicken breast, dragged half a walnut across her plate. “So what’s the scoop with Holly? They find out who did her?”
“I don’t believe so,” Jane said.
“What a way to go.” Goddess shook her head. “Pinned through the neck like some butterfly or something.” She shivered. “I mean, I know she was a jerk and everything, but nobody deserves that.” She looked at Jane. “Do you think she took a long time to die?”
Jane dropped her fork. It rattled loudly on the fine china. “I—I really wouldn’t know. Would you mind if we talked about something else?” She looked at Laura, who was staring down at her plate as if she were about to vomit.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Goddess said, shrugging. “Let’s talk about my favorite subject—me. I got a new movie coming out. You hear about it? It’s called Adam and Eve.”
“Actually,” Jane said, grateful for the subject change, “I did read about it—in Entertainment Weekly, I think. They said you were brilliant.”
“I am. You wanna come to a screening?” she asked them both.
Jane and Laura nodded.
“You got it. I’ll tell Yves. You’re gonna love the movie. There’s this fabulous actress in it who plays my mother—Darlene Hunt. The studio wanted Beatrice Straight, but I said no—Straight is great, but Hunt is better for the part. And I was right. Wait till you see the two of us together. I’m telling you, an Oscar’s gonna come out of that movie, and it may very well go to me.”
The rest of lunch was much like this: Goddess talking about herself, about her talent, about her upcoming projects. She would leave her Broadway show during the summer to shoot a movie with Vanessa Williams called Girlfriends. Another film, a thriller, was in the discussion stages, with a number of leading men being considered as Goddess’s opposite: Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, Ben Stiller, John Travolta. Madonna was considering a cameo role.
Goddess was also developing a new Broadway show for herself.
“I’m gonna play all these outrageous women in history. Joan of Arc, Marie Curie, Marie Antoinette. It’s gonna be a musical. There’s one number—” Goddess laughed, blowing out smoke. “ ‘Let ’Em Eat Cake!’ It’s fabulous. All the songs are by Nikkee Waldman, who did Goddess of Love.”
Jane, who would never have used the word outrageous to describe Joan of Arc, Marie Curie, or Marie Antoinette, found all of this conversation utterly boring. Not to mention that Goddess clearly had no intention of discussing their upcoming meeting at Corsair, which was why she had wanted Jane to come to lunch in the first place.
Later, as Jane and Laura were taking their leave, Jane pointed out that they hadn’t prepared for the meeting.
“I told you,” Goddess said, “don’t worry about it. Goddess’ll finesse it.” She winked at Jane. “She always does. You be good, you two.” She bowed serenely and a chopstick fell out of her hair, clattering on the foyer floor. “Sayonara.”
And Jane and Laura found themselves back on Goddess’s front steps, staring at each other.
“What just happened?” Laura asked.
“I’m not quite sure.”
“I thought you and she were supposed to talk about your meeting with the publisher on Monday.”
“So did I.”
“Maybe she felt self-conscious talking about it in front of me.”
Jane shook her head. “She said she didn’t mind. Besides, I don’t think Goddess feels self-conscious doing anything.”