Nineteen
For the third time, Jane held up the cover of Elaine Lawler’s newest Regency romance, Scandal’s Folly, and squinted, trying to read the back-cover copy. It was no use. The painting in the background was of an ornate tapestry in black and red, and the black lettering over it was impossible to read. She lifted the phone to call Abigail Schwartz, Elaine’s editor, then changed her mind and replaced the receiver. She wasn’t up to an argument now, not yet. She still didn’t feel quite herself. She’d spent all of yesterday, Sunday, in bed, resting and being cared for by the wonderful, solicitous Florence. To explain the stitches on her head, they’d both told Nick that Jane had simply fallen.
She decided phone calls were out this morning, and carried a pile of manuscripts from her bookcase to her desk and began reading. These manuscripts were from prospective clients, and each was worse than the one before it. Jane wondered briefly if perhaps her state of mind was coloring her judgment, then decided it wasn’t—the stuff really was that bad—and carried the manuscripts out to the reception room, placing them on the credenza to await rejection letters Daniel would write. She wondered how he was getting along in Chicago. It was lonely here without him. She returned to her office. The phone rang as she sat down.
“Jane Stuart.”
“Daniel Willoughby.”
“Daniel! I was just thinking about you. How’s it going?”
“All right.” He sounded tired. “I’ve buried my father and taken care of everything that can be taken care of at this point. Remind me someday to tell you about the joys of probate. I’m flying home late this afternoon.”
“Good. I’m sure Laura will be pleased. I know I will.”
“Thanks. How did the convention go?”
She told him about getting mugged.
“Holy smokes! Jane, you could have been killed!”
“Tell me about it.”
“Cancel your credit cards.”
“Did.”
“You’re sure you’re all right? I know Laura would be more than happy to get groceries for you, whatever you need.”
“Thanks, that’s sweet, but Florence has been great. You just get home safe.”
“Will do. See you in the morning, business as usual.”
As soon as Jane hung up, the phone rang again. It was Bertha.
“Just checking to make sure you’re feeling okay.”
“Yes, I’m fine, Bertha. Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“I blame myself for giving you that bogus note.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You didn’t know it wasn’t real. But I don’t think I’ll be attending any more conventions for a while.”
“I can’t say I blame you,” Bertha said. “Now. Since you’re feeling better, I need to run a plot question past you. Do you have a minute?”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Yes, Bertha.”
The minute lasted an hour. Through it all, Jane listened politely, trying to be helpful. Bertha had, after all, been very good to her.
When at last Bertha was finished “brainstorming,” Jane thanked her again and hung up. From the far left side of her desk she grabbed a manuscript that had been submitted to her a week ago—a suspense novel she’d begun to read and had thought showed promise. She’d read a page and a half when the phone rang again. Jane picked it up.
“Goddess here.”
Jane forced a smile into her voice. “Hello, Goddess, dear.”
“Don’t call me dear.”
“Sorry. Hello, Goddess. Am I allowed to ask how you are?”
“Funny.” There was a faint chomping on the line—Goddess was either eating something or chewing gum. “You still interested in seeing my new movie? Adam and Eve?”
“Of course!”
“Yves has set up a private screening for you. You can bring Daniel and Laura and anybody else you want. Yves says we need word of mouth on this one.”
“That sounds wonderful, Goddess, thank you. When were you thinking?”
“Tomorrow, but we’re having it early because I have to be at the theater for my show by seven-thirty. Come at four.” Goddess gave Jane the address of a building owned by the studio, on Seventh Avenue.
Jane jotted it down. “I’m not sure who’ll be able to come.”
“That’s up to you. But I hope that cute Daniel can make it. I thought it would maybe take his mind off his dad.”
“Why, that’s very thoughtful of you, Goddess,” Jane said, surprised. “I believe you’re right. I’ll see what I can do.”
Abruptly Goddess hung up. Such a strange girl. Jane sat pondering. This would be fun. A private screening of a major new film starring Goddess.... So glamorous. The knitting-club ladies would probably enjoy this, especially since Louise had suspended the meetings for a while.
Later that day, as Jane prepared to leave the office, Daniel called. “I’m home. Just wanted you to know.”
“I’m so glad. Listen, while I have you on the line, Goddess has invited us to a private screening of Adam and Eve, her new movie. Would you and Laura like to come? It’s tomorrow at four in the city, so I figure we’d have to leave Shady Hills by two-thirty.”
“Short day.”
“Sure is,” Jane said, and reached to the back of her head to feel her stitches. She winced. “And I can use it. So, you game?”
“I’d love to, but I don’t know about Laura. She’ll be working. But I’ll ask her, see if she wants to take time off.”
“Gotcha. See you in the morning.”
Grabbing her purse and briefcase, Jane headed out the back door to the parking lot. On the way to her car it occurred to her that representing someone like Goddess had its perks. Tonight, from home, she’d call the Defarge ladies and invite them. She decided she’d also invite Greenberg. Though Goddess’s primal dancing had been lost on him, he might enjoy Adam and Eve, which, as Goddess herself had said, was a traditional drama.
Opening the car door, Jane frowned. Was Goddess capable of doing anything traditional?