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FRANCESCA LIMPED HER way to the driveway when she saw the taxi stop in front of the house.
“God, I’ve missed you.” Francesca’s smile came with a wince as she threw her arms around Lily.
Lily looked like Hollywood royalty in a white cashmere cape and red knee-high boots that stood out amid the white snow-covered ground. Gold columns danced at her ears. Diamonds on her neck and fingers gleamed under the afternoon sunlight.
“I’ve missed you more.” Lily’s voice was edged with her Texan drawl. “Hello, Bear. I’ve missed you too, little guy.” She bent down to scratch Bear behind the ears when he gave her a couple of cheerful yaps. “Let me look at you, sugar.” Although Francesca wore a cowl neck sweater to hide the choking marks, her bruised face, swollen eye, mending lip, and slung arm was visible. “Christ, Frankie, you look terrible.”
“You sure know how to flatter a girl.” Francesca flinched when she attempted to curve her lips into a smile.
“I’m glad that sonofabitch is dead. If Tommy hadn’t killed him, I would have.” The fury in Lily’s tone made the taxi driver freeze mid-air with the suitcases. “Do you have cucumbers? If not, I can get the driver to pick some up.”
Francesca would have frowned if she could maneuver it without inducing pain. “I think we can dig some up.”
“Good. I’m going to give you a cucumber facial. It won’t get rid of the bruises, but it will make you feel great. Now, enough talk of murder and facials. Sugar, would you take all this luggage into the house?” Lily handed a crisp fifty-dollar bill to the driver, who returned a toothless grin. “Travelling puts a thirst on you, and I need to get me a large glass of peach schnapps. I hope you stocked up.”
“Will one case do for your two-week stay?”
“The liquor store is not too far, is it?”
Francesca snorted a giggle. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
“Why would I change perfection? Now lead the way,” Lily said, linking arms with her best friend’s.
Settled into the study sofa, Lily took a satisfying sip of schnapps. “The living room is still out of bounds?”
“Not because it’s still a crime scene. The police and forensic investigators are done poking around. I’m renovating the entire room, replacing all the furniture and rugs. All reminders of that night need to go.” A good sign, Lily thought. Francesca had accepted and understood death happened here, and she was getting on with her life—like ripping a Band-Aid off. What had happened to her was shocking, and devastating, but what had happened under her roof, in a disturbing way, was empowering. “Although, and I’ll only admit this to you, there are times I walk past that room and picture James face down in a pool of his blood, and I feel an infusion of pleasure. Is that morbid of me?”
“No. It’s your way of dealing with the anger and the hate you’ve bottled up all this time. More importantly, it’s your way of refuting blame for his actions against you and his death. And that’s how it should be because none of what happened, his death, your assaults, and the beatings was your fault. Abusers do their best to ensnare their victims in a cycle of self-blame and you’re recognising you neither asked nor deserved any of it. I wish you would have told me about what you were going through, Frankie. Not for my professional help, but because I’m your friend. I would have hopped on the first flight out to be with you.”
“I know you would have, and it wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you. It was because I was ashamed. James made me feel as if I deserved every beating. He made me feel worthless, and eventually, I believed it because I couldn’t get Tommy off my mind. I felt James was justified in doing what he did to me because he’d often say I was thinking of Tommy when we made love, or he kissed me, and it was true.” Francesca sipped on brandy to wet her sand-dry throat. “I only told Tommy because he guessed what was going on.”
“I’m glad Tommy came into your life when he did. I’m glad you had him to turn to.” Lily coaxed Bear onto the sofa and delighted him with head scratches when he did.
“I wish I hadn’t told him anything. By getting him involved, my worst fears came true. Look at the mess I got him into. I managed to get him out on parole, but now he’s facing life in prison. He’s lost his church pending the investigation, and he’s the talk of his parishioners, of the country.” Francesca handed Lily a handful of newspapers from the stack.
The headlines read: PRIEST KILLS RENOWNED ATTORNEY. JAMES TEMPLETON III BLUDGEONED IN HIS HOME BY PRIEST. JAMES TEMPLETON THE III, WIFE ABUSER, BLUDGEONED TO DEATH BY WIFE’S PRIEST. PRIEST HAILED AS HERO FOR KILLING WIFE ABUSER JAMES TEMPLETON III.
“You have to stop reading this trash. And if I learned anything from being a governor’s daughter is that people’s memories are short. This will blow over after the trial is done.” Lily tucked her legs beneath her as she stirred her drink with a manicured finger. “And the last headline and article praise his action.”
“I know, but those are far and few. In the meantime, Tommy has to endure this because of me. Although he doesn’t say anything, I know he spends his days wondering if he’s going to end up in jail.” Francesca flicked eyes to the fir Missy, Mrs. Richards, and Scott set up in the study, hoping to infuse Christmas cheer at a somber time.
“Your father won’t allow that. He’s the best criminal lawyer there is. Tommy couldn’t get better representation than Peter Thompson.” Lily laid a reassuring hand over Francesca’s. “He’ll get Tommy his freedom.”
“I pray to God he will. I was shocked and thrilled when daddy stepped in to defend Tommy when I had to recuse myself. Not so much because he’s an excellent attorney, but because it’s made me believe we can mend our frayed relationship. He’s finally acknowledged how wrong he was about Tommy.” Francesca’s gaze was focused on some distant point as she dug into memories of Peter and her. “Our relationship is a work in progress, but my mom would be happy to see how much closer we’ve become.”
“She’d also be thrilled your father finally came to his senses and sent that two-timing, floozy on her way and without as much as cab fare.” Lily stroked Bear’s tummy when he flipped, paws up, for her.
“A personal triumph of mine. Tiffani won’t be getting a dime from Daddy, nor will she contest the divorce. Not after my father threatened to hand out the photos I gave him to the wives of the men she was sleeping with. I only had the stomach to look at the top four or five when Lamont handed me the package. It turns out the remaining ones weren’t of James and Tiffani. They were of Tiffani and a litany of married men she’d met at the country club.” Francesca walked to the bar cart, picked up the peach schnapps and brandy bottle, walked them to the sofa. “I’m glad Lamont pursued that angle after he was done with James.”
“It’s too bad that your dad won’t be able to release the photographs. Those poor women should be told what their husbands were up to, if not still, because once a bimbo always a bimbo.” Lily held her glass out to Francesca for a top-up of schnapps.
“My father can’t, but I can.” Francesca fished for the envelope from the desk drawer. “I kept copies of the photographs. Once daddy finalizes his divorce and turns over his photographs and negatives to Tiffani’s lawyers, these copies will mysteriously make their way to each wife.”
“I always knew that beneath that sweet-as-sugar girl, there was a devious bitch.” Lily flashed Francesca, a wicked grin. “I have to say, Frankie, no one would ever know you used to steer clear of conflict.”
“Trouble seems to go out of its way to find me nowadays.”
“When do I get to meet Tommy? I’m dying to get to work on helping him get his full memory back.” Lily yawned, stretched across the sofa next to a snoring Bear.
“He’s joining us tonight for Christmas eve dinner. As will Daddy, Missy, Mrs. Richards, and Scott. It’s going to be the best Christmas ever.” Francesca spread the throw over Lily as she dozed off in sleep.
