Chapter 10

10

Cynthia Ross slipped into the booth across from Jessie with a smile so broad and white that she almost wanted to shield her eyes. She wore her platinum blonde hair short and, combined with her small, sharp features, she had the look of a little fairy or a pretty elf.

“It’s good to see you again, Jessie,” she said. “I think the last time was at Piper’s birthday party last year at Tuscan Son,wasn’t it?”

“I think so.”

“I’m really sorry to hear how rough things have been with Jack leaving.”

Jessie’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach and bobbed around there. Piper had told her?

“As soon as I heard, I called Piper. I thought it must have just been a rumor. You know how that crowd likes to talk.”

“And she confirmed it for you,” she stated.

“Honestly, I think she tried not to. But I guess I had enough details that she knew she couldn’t deny it. I mean, she and I have been friends for years. You know how that is. But then she told me about the wonderful way you’ve turned things around for yourself. I’m just in awe, Jessie. Honestly, I don’t think I could have done it. If Devon left me high and dry like that, I think I’d be crying in my merlot until next summer sometime. What a resilient spirit you have!”

She wanted to laugh right out loud. Leave it to Piper to put the resilient spin on the natural disaster that had become her life.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I’m just trying to face reality and pick myself up and make a life again.”

“Talk about making lemonade, huh?” she exclaimed, shaking her little elf head, those pearly whites beaming. “I think it’s amazing. Honestly. Just amazing.”

Jessie’s grandpa once warned her about people who used phrases like “honestly” or “to tell the truth” to preface their thoughts. “Honesty and truth are probably the last things you’re going to get when a sentence starts off by declaring it.”

She grinned at Cynthia. After all, did it really matter if she was sincere? In the bigger picture, it really didn’t somehow.

“So tell me about your little store idea. How’s that going to work?”

Jessie took a deep breath and blew it out playfully. “Well. I didn’t really come from money. My family was middle-class Louisiana, you know? I was fascinated by fashion and the designers all my life, don’t get me wrong. But it wasn’t until I married Jack that I really had access to the finer things. When I found myself left with nothing except my labels, I started thinking about those days of yearning for them with no real way of acquiring them.”

“It must have been so . . . jarring. You know, to lose it all.”

“At first, yes,” she fibbed, as if her situation wasn’t rocking her to the very core every single day. “But then I met a young lady who reminded me what it’s like to make your own way in a world where style costs a pretty penny.”

“Who is this young lady?”

Jessie grinned. “Amber Davidson. We met in the ladies’ room of Antonio’s restaurant.” She chuckled and shook her head. “A twenty-five-year-old fashionista who could have been me if Jack hadn’t sauntered into my life. I hired her on the spot. I had an employee before I even had a store!”

“So how is it going to work?” Cynthia asked, interest bubbling to the surface of her glossy eyes. “You’ll just take the things out of your closet and put them on racks for others to poke through?”

“Well, that’s where it starts, I suppose,” she replied with a laugh. “But I’ve been acquiring garments and accessories from other sources as well, so there will be a sort of consignment feature to it. The bottom line, Cynthia, is that women can come into the store and rent pieces for a week or a month at a fraction of what they might pay to own them. And once they’ve been seen in that Chanel or McCartney, they just trade it in for a little slice of Valentino heaven.”

“I did a piece on an online store like that,” she recalled. “But I think that was just handbags.”

“Right, and eventually we may start an online segment of the business. But for now, I think we’re in the right location for a lot of repeat business.”

Cynthia laughed, and it had a somewhat bitter edge to it. “Yes, LA is premium real estate for offering the posers what they need to pose.”

Jessie hadn’t really thought of it in such unflattering terms, but she supposed Cynthia might be right.

“I’d like to do a piece on your store, Jessie.”

A slow, giddy excitement floated up inside her. “Really?”

“Are you planning an event for the opening?”

“We’re in the beginning stages of that, yes.”

“Target date?”

“About three weeks. Why don’t you give me your email, and we’ll send you an announcement.”

“Good,” she said, digging a business card out of her Michael Kors bag. “Meanwhile, I’d like to send over my video team to shoot some in-process footage as you get the store ready. I’ll schedule them for tomorrow afternoon.” She didn’t even give Jessie room to answer. “And then we’ll do a sit-down in the store at the end of the week. I’ll have to check my calendar and talk to George . . .”

Jessie lost the frequency of the chatter as Cynthia continued with directives and observations; her own mind drifted to the store and the shape in which they’d left it.

“Oh! Maybe it would be fun to get some footage of your Malibu house and then do the interview in your apartment in Santa Monica for contrast—”

“No!” That part she heard, and she wasn’t having it. “Nothing like that, Cynthia. If you want to do a piece on the opening of the store, I’m thrilled. Grateful, even. But if your planned focus is the riches-to-rags angle where I’m the poor unfortunate soul who was duped, I’m not interested.”

Cynthia scrunched up her sharp features and stared at her for a long and frozen moment. Finally, just as Jessie pictured the big interview swirling the drain, Cynthia’s expression bounced back to normal. She shrugged and gave Jessie a firm nod. “Okay. I get it. I see what you’re saying.”

She wondered. “Okay, as long as . . . we’re clear?”

“Yes. Sure.”

Jessie made a mental note to put Piper on it, just to make sure.

“So I’ll call you about tomorrow.”

And with that, Cynthia Ross slid out of the booth, leaving her cup of untouched coffee behind with Jessie. Short and not-too sweet.

Grabbing her macchiato and her bag, Jessie headed for the door. She dialed Piper before she reached the Taurus.

“How did it go?”

“And hello to you, too,” Jessie said with a giggle.

“Sorry. Hi. How did it go?”

“She’s doing the story.”

Piper’s squeal forced the phone away from Jessie’s ear on sheer decibels.

“But listen. I need you to follow up on this for me, would you? She’s your friend, and I just want to make sure you get her to understand it’s not a Poor Pitiful Jessie piece. Please, Piper. I can’t take that.”

“I’m on it. Where are you headed now?”

“To the store to meet Amber and a friend of hers she met in a writing class at UCLA. The girl is now interning for some big public relations firm on Wilshire, and she’s agreed to help us write a press release.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun.”

“Why don’t you come over.”

“Ahh, I’d love to, but I can’t. Antonio’s mother wants to go put her feet in the celebrity cement at Grauman’s.”

Jessie cackled. “You’re joking.”

“How I wish. No. She wants the whole tourist experience.”

“Oh! Maybe you can take a walk over to Sunset and Vine after. Show her the hookers and cross-dressers.”

“Nice, but no. Afterward we’re headed up to Universal Studios.”

“For the tour of the lot?”

“No,” Piper’s voice dropped dramatically. “They film Extra there.”

“Maybe you’ll see Mario Lopez!”

“Uh-huh. That’s the plan. She’s convinced he’s part Italian.”

Jessie giggled. “Have a good time.”

“You, too.”

When Jessie arrived back at the apartment, she found Amber at her front door in animated conversation with two girls; one of them, barely a teenager.

“I’m guessing you’re our PR angel,” she said to the second one.

“Riley Masters,” she replied. Early twenties, tall and thin, cute as could be.

“And you?” Jessie asked the younger girl.

“This is Allie Riggs,” Amber interjected. “Your landlord’s daughter. I told him she could hang with us while he made a run to the hardware store.”

Allie pushed a mane of shiny black hair over her shoulder and took a stab at a smile, but shyness snatched it back quickly.

“Hi, Allie. I’m Jessie Stanton.”

The “hi” she returned came out in such a soft whisper that it could barely be heard.

“Let’s all go inside, why don’t we.” Jessie wrestled with the locks and gave the door one swift knee to get it to open. “Come on in.”

“You should get my dad to fix that,” Allie said softly as she passed.

“You’re right. I should.”

Except for the bone-straight, glossy mane in contrast with her father’s short, kinkier hair, there was no mistaking Allie as Riggs’s daughter. She had his deep-set eyes brimming with an odd mix of mystery and playfulness, and his dark even-toned skin. In profile, both of them shared the same flat-bridged noses that flared only slightly, and Allie inherited that little curve of the lips that turned a slight smile into a grin.

“How old are you, Allie?” she asked as she slid her bag off her shoulder and dropped it to the floor next to the sofa.

“Twelve.”

“I guess you hear this all the time, but you sure do look like your dad.”

Her smile-turned-grin inched upward. “Yeah.”

“Doesn’t she?” Amber exclaimed. Leaning toward Allie, she added, “And that’s a good thing. At least you have a hot dad! My dad is bald with a gut that hangs over his pants.”

Allie giggled and covered her face.

“Okay, Riley,” Jessie began as she sat down across from her. “Has Amber mentioned how thrilled we are that you’re here to help us?”

“Only about a dozen times,” she replied. She slid a piece of paper from a case that looked like a pristine leather envelope with a handle. “I got some basics from Amber, and I put together a first draft. There’s still a lot to fill in, but I thought we could start with this.”

Riley and Jessie moved closer together to review the release while Amber quietly led Allie away with her. Thirty minutes later, they had a final draft that pleased Jessie to no end.

“This is better than I’d even hoped,” she said. “How can I thank you for helping me?”

“A free rental or two?”

“You got it!” Jessie answered with a tap to the coffee table.

“Amber told me about a green Christian Siriano dress you have.”

“Oh, the chiffon?”

“Yes. I have a special event coming up.”

“You’re such a tiny thing, and that dress is layers and layers of chiffon circles. You’ll get lost in it. I bought it when I was pregnant to cover up the bump and the extra weight.” Jessie regretted the admission the moment it landed.

“Oh. You have children?”

“Umm, no. I . . . I miscarried.”

Isabella Rose.

Riley rested her hand over Jessie’s wrist and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

She hadn’t thought about Bella in a while now. She swallowed the emerging emotion and tried to smile at Riley.

“Thank you.” The lump in her throat choked her a little. “Well, you come in and try the dress. If it doesn’t look right, we’ll find something that does.”

Riley leaned forward slightly and confided, “I’m three months pregnant.”

“Oh! That’s . . . wonderful. Congratulations.”

“My sister-in-law is getting married and I’ll be seven months along by then. I’m going to need something fabulous to wear, and Amber told me about the Siriano.”

Jessie sighed. “You’ll look spectacular in that dress, Riley.”

A wave of envy sloshed inside her and swirled around in a standing pool of regret. Her belly had been fat and round when she’d lost Bella at seven months, and she’d bought that dress for just such an occasion—a spring wedding that she’d missed. By the time the couple cut their wedding cake, all that was left of Bella had already been taken from Jessie’s body the weekend prior. She found herself hoping it went better for Riley than it had for her and that the pretty blonde got to wear the flowy green Siriano.

A series of stern knocks at the door jolted Jessie forward three years, and she pushed up from the sofa to greet Riggs. To her surprise, Danny stood behind him smiling at her.

“Allie here?” Riggs asked her.

“Yes, come on in.”

Jessie padded down the hall toward her bedroom, then muffled conversation drew her to the closet. She pulled the door open to find Amber and Allie sitting on the floor with several handbags around them.

“Hey, those aren’t for the store,” she cried. “Those are mine.”

“I know. I just wanted to show Allie what great style you have.”

She couldn’t very well follow that, so she sighed. “Allie, your dad’s here to get you.”

The twelve-year-old clicked her tongue and groaned. “Thanks for letting me come over, Amber.” As she scuffled past Jessie, she muttered, “You too.”

“See you later, alligator,” Amber called after her, and she scooped up the handbags, crawling toward the cubbies to replace them. “How did it go with Riley?”

“She’s still here. But I think we have something really good, and she has a whole list of places we can send the release to. And they go by email, so it’s free.”

“We like free.”

“Yes, we do.”

Jessie and Amber returned to the living room as Allie squealed, “Dan-ny!” and she sprang forward into Danny’s open arms.

“How are you, kiddo?” he asked as he hugged her.

“Good. Did Dad tell you I’m going to marine biology camp this summer? It’s down in San Diego and we get to help take care of dolphins and whales and we even get to feed some of the sharks! There’s lots of different kinds of sharks, too. There’s blacktips and bull sharks. Oh! And hammerheads. They call them that because if you see them from the front, they look like they have a hammer in their mouth . . .”

It happened just like that, too. A timid young girl who had barely spoken a word since she’d arrived unrolled her tongue and slid down an avalanche of words aimed right at Danny Callahan.

* * *

Allie had hardly taken a breath in ten minutes, and Danny had to do little more than stand there, nodding occasionally. Riggs had given up on listening minutes prior and headed out the front door, shaking his head.

“Listen,” Danny said the instant she allowed him the sliver of opportunity at breaking in. “We have to hit the road.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning toward Amber. “Danny lives at the beach, and we’re going to have a cookout. Do you want to come?”

Danny didn’t imagine this virtual stranger might take her up on the invitation, but she stunned him a little when she replied, “Sure. That sounds like fun.”

Really?

“Jessie?” Amber asked.

“Oh, no. You guys go ahead. I have some things to finish up.”

The thought of spending the afternoon with Amber without their mutual buffer made Danny’s jaws itch.

“Burgers and hot dogs at the beach, and you’re turning it down?” he cajoled, trying to keep his desperation from showing. “C’mon. We need to talk anyway.”

“We do?”

We do?

“Sure,” he said instead. “I want to do a little catch-up.”

It felt like time stood still before she finally shrugged. “Okay. Just give me a few minutes to change clothes. We’ll meet you at your place in an hour.”

Allie chattered all the way out to her dad’s VW bus, continuing until the minute they pulled up in front of the house. He wasn’t entirely certain she wasn’t still jabbering when she ran off across the sand; the surf may have simply reached up and caught her voice, drowning it.

“I’ll fire up the grill,” Riggs told him, and Danny headed inside to pull together the food. Frank rushed past him the instant the door opened, galloping out after Allie like a wild horse thundering away from the herd.

By the time he emerged with grill-ready burgers, dogs, and cobs of corn, Riggs called Allie back to the house. While she set out plates, plastic cups, napkins, and condiments on the oversized teak table, he draped the long benches on either side of it with beach towels. Just as he turned the burgers, Amber and Jessie parked behind Riggs’ bus.

“Amber!” Allie cried, and she raced toward Jessie’s Taurus, tugging Amber—now dressed in cut-off jeans shorts and a bathing suit top—by the hand toward the beach.

Jessie waved and clomped toward him in tall, wedged sandals, her hair pulled back into a bouncy ponytail with large white sunglasses propped on the top of her head. She wore black pleated shorts that fell a couple inches above the knee, highlighting her long, suntanned legs. The bright red tank top layered over a black one with thicker straps revealed far more toned arms and shoulders than he’d imagined.

She held up a plastic container and called out to him. “I brought macaroni salad!”

She flashed a momentary smile as she approached, transforming into an expression of horror when Frank barked and trotted toward her.

“Oh, no!” she squealed. “Danny! Help?”

“Frank!” he commanded, slapping his thigh twice. “Over here.”

The Great Dane obeyed, but reluctantly.

“Drinks in the cooler,” he pointed out as she reached him. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks. Get you one?”

“Not just yet.”

She set the container on the table and plucked a bottle of iced tea for herself before she joined him in front of the grill, inching around Frank with an edge of caution.

“That is the biggest dog I’ve ever seen in my life,” she half whispered, as if Frank might hear and take offense.

“Yeah, he’s a big boy.”

He watched her struggle with the cap on the tea for a few seconds before taking it from her, loosening it, and handing it back.

“Thank you.” She removed the cap and took a swig before asking, “So. What did you want to tell me? Jack’s an international terrorist, right? He just married me to get into the country and plot how to take over America?”

“Who told you?” he asked, straight-faced as he dug the spatula under a burger and unloaded it to a plate.

“You’re kidding,” she stated, deadpan.

“Yes. I’m kidding.”

“Thank you.”

She seemed genuinely relieved. He wished the news wasn’t nearly as bad.

“Jack has been under investigation for quite a while now.”

She turned toward him and shifted her weight to one hip. “Very funny.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “For what?”

“Do you know what a Ponzi scheme is?”

She stood there frozen for a few seconds before deflating, shuffling to the table and sitting down. Danny finished loading the plate with burgers and dogs before he followed and sat on the bench beside her.

“I had a horrible feeling it was something like that,” she said softly.

“The government has been looking into some missing funds.”

“How much?”

“Not yet determined. But it looks like several dozen of his top clients are affected.”

“Oh . . . no . . .”

After setting her tea on the table, she wilted, depositing her face in the palms of both hands. Danny leaned back, propped his elbows on the table behind him, and sighed. He didn’t know quite what to do, so he did nothing; just sat there quietly. When she finally lifted her head and looked at him, tears had moistened both cheeks.

“How bad is it, Danny?”

He didn’t want to say it. “It’s pretty bad, Jessie.”

Without a hint of what she might do, Jessie collapsed against his arm with a thud and sobbed. After a couple of minutes, it felt unnatural to just sit there like a stuffed swordfish on a wall, so he raised his arm and wrapped it loosely around her shoulder.

Say something comforting, you idiot.

He couldn’t very well tell her everything was going to be all right because he simply didn’t know if that was true. He’d heard people sometimes say things like, “there, there,” but he wasn’t exactly a “there, there” kind of guy. Nothing else sprang to mind, so he just tapped her gently with his hand a couple of times.

“There, there.”

* * *

Nothin’ pierces the heart of a man like seein’ his grandchild slurpin’ up tears. From baby to youngster to girl, sobs comin’ outta Jessie near ’bout broke this old man’s heart.

“It’s the winter formal, Grampy! How could he let me think all year he was gonna ask me, then turn around and ask Melissa Klein?”

“Melissa Klein!” I just about laughed ’til I cried. “That girl’s got buck teeth big as playin’ cards.”

“I know. But Ryan says she understands him better’n I do. Can you believe that? How can she understand him better’n I do? . . . Why do boys always lie, Grampy?”

“Well, little girl, because they can. Some boys—and some girls, for that matter, too—just don’t know what they got until they don’t anymore.”

“Why does it have to hurt so bad?”

“This too shall pass,” I reassured her. “Just ride it out ’til it does.”

“Do you suppose I’ll meet a boy one day who won’t lie to me?”

The hope fire in her blue eyes set a blaze goin’ inside me, and I kept a prayer silent in my heart that I’d find the right words to soothe the burn.

“Gimme your hands right now, child. We’re gonna say a prayer to God about that.”

She curled up her heart-shaped face and scowled at her old gramps. “I don’t wanna pray right now. I just wanna cry some more.”

“Fat lotta good tears’ll do ya without prayers to back ’em up.”