Chapter 15

Leila

Leila held her breath and clenched her hands in her lap as she watched the woman sitting in front of her slowly open the cardboard box then remove the tissue paper packaging.

“Oh, Leila,” Audrey said, picking up one of the pink, metallic envelopes, “these are just . . . just gorgeous!”

Leila exhaled, breathing a sigh of relief. “Really? You really like them?”

“I don’t like them. I love them!” Audrey exclaimed, pulling more of her custom-made invitations out of the box and grinning. Her green eyes brightened as she ran her hand over the parchment, lighting up her plump, pale face. “I figured they’d turn out nice, but never thought they’d be this nice! Can I . . . Can I open the ribbon on this one? I don’t want to mess it up.”

Leila laughed. “You can do whatever you like, Audrey. They’re your invitations!”

Thank goodness Audrey Wilcox liked the final product. The invitations to her daughter’s thirteenth birthday party were one of the few design projects that Leila had done that month. Her new company had looked well on its way to being in the black only a few months ago, and now it was firmly in the red. She was still hemorrhaging clients, which confused her. She had thought Chesterton would be a prime place to open a graphic arts and stationery business since the town and its surrounding county was filled with start-up businesses and upper-middle-class people who loved to host parties and had plenty of money to spend. But she seemed to have been sorely mistaken. She hadn’t secured any new clients in almost a month and was now trying to think of different ways to give a lifeline to her failing business.

“I would ask, though,” Leila ventured as Audrey continued to smile at the birthday invitations, “to please spread the word that you really liked what I did for you. If you refer a new client to Leila Designs, I could give you a discount on any future design work.”

“Oh, no problem, Leila! I’d be happy to!” The middle-aged woman slowly shook her head in awe at the invitation she held, sending her page cut flying around her face. She fingered the black-and-silver, polka-dot ribbon. “My daughter, Zoe, is going to love these! I’m so glad I didn’t listen to my friend Maggie and have someone else make the invitations. That was the best decision I ever made!”

“I’m . . . I’m sorry . . . what? You said your friend told you to get the invitations made somewhere else?”

Audrey paused. Her grin faltered. “Huh?”

“You said your friend Maggie told you to get your invitations elsewhere. Did she suggest another designer in town?”

Leila had wondered if maybe that was the culprit behind her business problems. Maybe there was another, larger design firm offering bargain-basement prices for similar work.

“Oh, dear,” Audrey whispered. Her pale face grew considerably paler, draining of all color. “Did I . . . did I really say that out loud? I am so sorry, Leila!”

“Sorry about what?”

“Well,” Audrey began, shifting uncomfortably in one of Leila’s leather office chairs, “Maggie Sutter is a . . . a friend of mine.”

Maggie Sutter . . . Maggie Sutter . . .

Leila struggled to remember where she had heard that name before.

Now I remember, she thought.

Maggie Sutter was the woman who had canceled a consultation a few months ago where they were supposed to discuss invitations, save-the-dates, and menus for Maggie’s winter bash. She had been very abrupt when she did it, giving no real reason why she had canceled.

“She told me that I would be better off giving my money to another designer,” Audrey continued, “someone more . . . more acceptable.”

Leila squinted. “I’m sorry, but . . . I don’t think I’m following you. Acceptable in what way?”

Audrey hesitated again.

“Please tell me,” Leila said. “If there’s bad buzz about my business going around, I’d really like to know.”

Audrey released a loud breath. “Look, Leila.” She caught Leila by surprise by reaching out to gently pat her hand. “I don’t care what you do in your private life. Like I told Maggie . . . it’s none of my business! But ever since Maggie’s sister’s husband left her for that two-bit slut waitress at Hooters, she’s been hell-bent on taking a stand against people having affairs.”

Leila’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head.

“And it doesn’t help much that Maggie’s a friend of a friend of Charisse Murdoch. I swear those women can act like a little gang sometimes! She said Charisse said we all have to stick together . . . all us wives, I mean. But I don’t cotton to that type of thinking!” Audrey rushed out, when she saw the furious expression on Leila’s face. “If a man doesn’t want to be with his wife anymore, you can’t force him to be, can you?” She waved her hand dismissively. “And that whole bit about you being a former prostitute and a coke addict, I didn’t believe it for one second! That was just too over the top! I knew those were rumors Charisse had to have cooked up. Evan Murdoch wouldn’t get engaged to a prostitute!” she said with a shrill laugh.

Leila took a trembling breath. She was clenching her hands in her lap so tightly now that she swore the fingernails were digging into the flesh. Her palms might start to bleed. She had secretly suspected all along that Charisse was behind this. After all, Charisse had made it her mission to make Leila’s life miserable. But Leila had no idea that psycho would follow through with it—or that she would take it this far!

She told everyone I was a hooker and a cokehead, Leila thought. No wonder they don’t want to do business with me!

“You’re absolutely right,” Leila said, forcing her voice to stay even. “Well, I’m glad you like the invitations, Audrey. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another client coming in the next few minutes,” she lied.

“Oh!” Audrey said, nodding. “No . . . no problem. I should be going anyway.”

An hour later, Leila was sitting behind her office desk, rubbing her pregnant belly and still fuming, when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen and frowned when she saw it was Isabel’s school.

Her daughter had started the new private grade school only a month ago. It was Evan and Leila’s alma mater. Leila never would have been able to afford the tuition on her own—not without the help of a big scholarship like the one she had received when she had attended almost twenty years ago—but now that she had Evan’s financial help, she could send Isabel to Queen Anne Academy without financial aid. She appreciated Evan’s generosity, but had been hesitant to accept it.

“She’s a bright girl, Lee. If Izzy gets a good education there, what difference does it make who pays?” he had asked with a laugh.

It makes a difference to me, she had thought while watching him write the tuition check. It was yet another thing that emphasized the imbalance in their relationship. It was yet another thing that Evan could control.

“Hello?” Leila now answered, picking up after the second ring.

“Hello, is this Ms. Hawkins?” a gravelly voice replied.

“Yes, this is she.”

“This is Eleanor Fairchild, the principal at Queen Anne Academy. I’m calling in regard to your daughter, Isabel.”

“Yes? Is everything okay?” Leila adjusted in her chair, feeling a hint of alarm. “Is she all right?”

Leila got a flashback to the last time she had received a call from school about Isabel. It had been to tell her that they couldn’t find her, that she had run away.

“Isabel is fine, Ms. Hawkins . . . in a manner of speaking.”

“I’m sorry? In a manner of speaking? What . . . what does that mean?”

“It means we’ve had a little incident here with Isabel and one of our other students. They were fighting on the playground and had to be pulled apart by two of the teachers on recess duty at the time.”

Leila’s mouth fell open. “Izzy was fighting? Are you sure?”

Her daughter never fought! At least, she hadn’t in the past.

“I am sure, Ms. Hawkins. Both girls suffered a few cuts and bruises, but they’re all right—for the most part. Both are now sitting in my office. They have been suspended for the day and maybe for the rest of the week, pending review of the incident. I haven’t decided yet.”

Leila dropped her head into her hand and sighed. “I’m on my way to get her,” she said. “I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes.”

* * *

Leila swung open one of the heavy oak doors and walked down the short corridor leading to the academy’s front office. As she walked under the series of stone archways and past portraits showing the founders of the private school, she felt a little queasy, much like how she felt the first day she had set foot on the school grounds when she was nine years old. She’d been a nervous little girl back then, gangly and carrying a backpack that almost outweighed her. She’d been wearing a uniform that didn’t quite fit because her mother couldn’t afford anything better. She had almost gnawed her lip raw that day, not knowing what to expect as she slowly walked to her homeroom. She felt the same way today, unsure of what exactly to expect when she walked into the principal’s office.

She rounded the corner and found a young woman with dark hair parted severely down the middle, sitting at a desk while classical music played on an iPod dock perched on a file cabinet nearby. A view of the school’s basketball and tennis courts was visible from the office window. Leila knocked on the door frame to get the young woman’s attention.

“Yes?” the young woman asked, turning away from her laptop screen and peering up at Leila expectantly.

“My name is Leila Hawkins. I’m . . . I’m here to pick up my daughter, Isabel Hawkins.”

The young woman nodded curtly. “Yes, I’ll let Ms. Fairchild know that you’re here.” She then rose from her desk and walked the short distance to a closed door with a gold plaque.

“Eleanor Fairchild, Principal” was displayed on the plaque in large black letters.

The young woman knocked.

“Come in,” a scratchy voice answered. The young woman leaned her head inside and whispered something Leila couldn’t hear. A few seconds later, the door opened wider and Leila saw Ms. Fairchild standing in the doorway. She was tall and thin, with knobby shoulders that showed prominently through her navy blue sweater. Her gray hair was cut short so that it looked like a wisp of feathers around her narrow head.

“Ah, Ms. Hawkins!” Ms. Fairchild said, holding out her hand to her. “Thank you for coming!”

The young woman stepped aside and Leila stepped forward to shake Ms. Fairchild’s hand. The old woman’s grip was light. Her hand was cold, bony, and limp.

“Please come inside.”

Leila stepped into the expansive office and instantly spotted her daughter. When she did, she cringed.

Isabel’s plaid jumper was ripped on one side. The two pigtails that Leila had neatly combed, brushed, and greased into place that morning were now in complete disarray. Isabel also had a scratch on her left cheek near her eye.

“Izzy? Baby? What in the world . . .” she breathed, rushing toward her daughter’s side. She grabbed Isabel’s chin and stared at her cheek.

Isabel lowered her eyes

“The other student looks just as bad as your daughter, if it’s any consolation,” Ms. Fairchild said, linking her hands in front of her.

Leila side-eyed the older woman. “Not really,” she muttered before slowly kneeling down on the Afghan rug beside Isabel’s chair, grunting as she did it. “Baby, why were you fighting? What happened?”

Isabel didn’t answer her, but kept her eyes downcast.

“May I speak with you privately, Ms. Hawkins?” Ms. Fairchild asked.

“S-sure.” She turned back to Isabel. “Wait outside for me. Okay?”

Isabel nodded.

A few minutes later, Leila was sitting in one of the armchairs facing Ms. Fairchild’s large mahogany desk. The older woman closed her door and strolled across her office, pausing to pull a dead leaf from a bouquet of tea roses that sat on a nearby table.

“I wanted you to know that I have decided to suspend Isabel for the week. It may seem like a harsh penalty, but in light of her short time here at Queen Anne, I want her to understand that we do not accept that kind of behavior at this institution,” Ms. Fairchild said, taking a seat behind her desk.

Leila nodded. “Yes, I understand. Izzy won’t do this again. I’ll make sure it!”

Just as soon as I find out why she was fighting in the first place, Leila thought.

She still didn’t understand it. Her daughter was usually so soft-spoken and gentle. She wasn’t a fighter. But she had been behaving differently lately.

Ms. Fairchild pursed her wrinkled lips and leaned forward in her chair. “I don’t know if you’ve had time to peruse our school handbook, but Queen Anne actually has a zero-tolerance policy toward fighting, Ms. Hawkins. We want to condition our young men and women to exemplary behavior, to be upstanding citizens in this world. Fighting does not fall in that category.”

“Yes,” Leila repeated tightly, “I understand. As I said, it won’t happen again.”

“But,” Ms. Fairchild continued with a sigh, like she hadn’t heard Leila, “I am willing to bend that policy for Isabel for a number of reasons. One being that she seems to be a young lady with much potential based on her test scores and the initial feedback from her teachers. I think she could do quite well here at Queen Anne.”

“I think so, too,” Leila said softly, rubbing her belly in slow strokes.

“Also, I kept in mind her connection to the academy,” Ms. Fairchild continued. Her wan face broke into a skeletal smile. “One of her teachers made me aware that she was a legacy student—of one of the more esteemed legacies at our institution. I was surprised you didn’t include that information in her application!”

Leila stopped rubbing her belly. She shrugged. “I didn’t think it mattered that I had attended Queen Anne. I wasn’t sure it would help her admission.”

Ms. Fairchild inclined her head. “You also attended our school?”

“Uh . . . yeah! Yeah, I was a student here back in the nineties.”

Ms. Fairchild still looked confused.

“Isn’t . . . isn’t that what you were referring to when you said Izzy was a legacy student . . . because I went here?”

“Why no! But I’m pleasantly surprised to discover Isabel has two legacy connections! I was referring to Isabel’s stepfather, Mr. Evan Murdoch! You see, the Murdochs have a long history here at Queen Anne and we are very appreciative of what they’ve done for our school. Offering a scholarship fund for underprivileged students, providing money for auditorium renovations. Why, just last year Mr. Murdoch donated fifty thousand dollars to build our new music wing! It will be finished in the spring. When it’s done, please tell him that we’d love to give him a tour—if he has time available, of course.”

Leila was now at a loss for words. She opened her mouth and closed it. She opened it again. “So you’re . . . you’re allowing Izzy to stay at Queen Anne because . . . because you think she’s a Murdoch?”

Ms. Fairchild blinked. Her smile disappeared. “Well, I wouldn’t . . . I wouldn’t put it quite that way, Ms. Hawkins.”

Really? Because that’s exactly how I would put it, Leila thought angrily, but didn’t say it aloud.

She threw her purse strap over her shoulder and pushed herself to feet. “Thank you for everything, Ms. Fairchild. I’m taking Izzy home now. We’ll see you in a week.”

Fifteen minutes later, Leila was driving off the Queen Anne Academy grounds back to the Murdoch Mansion. She glanced at her daughter, who sat slumped in the passenger seat beside her. “What were you thinking? Why in the world were you fighting, Izzy?”

Isabel didn’t respond, but instead continue to glare out the windshield.

“Answer me!” Leila yelled, making the little girl jump in her seat.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know,” Isabel finally mumbled, lowering her eyes.

“You don’t know? You don’t know?”

Leila furiously shook her head, trying her best to rein in her temper but not succeeding. She pulled onto the road leading to the Murdoch Mansion.

“Izzy, I don’t know what has gotten into you lately. First, Evan catches you stealing my jewelry, and now I get a call from your new school saying that you were fighting some other girl on the playground. And now you’re suspended! This behavior is unacceptable, young lady!”

Isabel’s bottom lip began to quiver. Her eyes started to water.

“Are you acting out because of the baby? Are you trying to get attention? Is that it? Or . . . or is it your dad? Did he put you up to this, too?”

Isabel shook her head.

“Then what is it?” Leila drew to a stop in the driveway and turned to face her daughter. “Why are you acting out like this?”

Isabel closed her eyes as tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Stacey . . . Stacey said you were a ho,” she whispered.

“What?”

“She said you were a ho!” Isabel screamed, opening her eyes and glaring up at her mother. Her words came out between sobs and hiccups. “Stacey said that her mom said that you were a ho! And Stacey was telling everybody on the playground that they . . . that they shouldn’t play with me because . . . because I’d grow up to be a ho just like . . . just like you!”

Leila stared at Isabel in shock.

“Oh, honey,” Leila whispered, reaching for her daughter, wanting to break into tears herself. She wrapped an arm around her. “Oh, baby, I . . . I didn’t know. I’m so—”

Isabel shoved Leila away. She unbuckled her seat belt and flung open the passenger-side door. Leila watched helplessly as her daughter rushed up the stone steps to the mansion and pounded her small fists on the French doors until the housekeeper opened them. She rushed past the older woman, who looked at her aghast.

Almost two hours later, Evan strolled into their bedroom, only to find Leila pacing in front of their bed muttering to herself. She had just left Isabel’s bedroom twenty minutes ago, finally getting the little girl to calm down, only to get herself stirred back up again.

Evan furrowed his brows when he saw her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna kill her,” Leila mumbled, curling her hands into claws. “I am going to fucking kill her!”

He shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it onto the bed. “Kill who?”

“Your goddamn wife!” she shouted, making him jump. She dropped her hand to her lower back and continued to waddle back and forth on the plush carpet. “That bitch has it coming to her! I don’t care if you fuck with me, Evan, but you don’t fuck with my child . . . my Izzy! I’ve had enough of this shit from her! If I wasn’t seven months pregnant, I’d march straight to her house, yank her through the door, and kick her ass!”

“What are you talking about? Why do you want to kick Charisse’s ass?”

Leila stopped pacing long enough to glower at him. “She’s going around town telling everyone that I’m a whore! She said I used to be a hooker and cokehead! She told them that they shouldn’t do business with me. That’s why my clients are leaving in droves! Now she’s even got the kids at Queen Anne saying that they shouldn’t play with Izzy because she’s going to grow up to be a ho just like her mama!”

“Jesus,” he exhaled. “Are you sure Charisse really did all that?”

“Of course, I’m sure! You think I would just pull this shit out of thin air? Someone told me she’s doing it!”

“Okay,” he said, holding up his hands. “Okay, just . . . just calm down, baby.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” she shouted, feeling the cords stand up along her neck. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, goddammit!”

“Look, I just don’t want this shit with Charisse to send you into early labor, okay? It’s not worth it! Take a deep breath.”

She closed her eyes and did as he suggested. She breathed in and out and rubbed her stomach, feeling their baby girl shift.

“I’ll talk to Charisse,” he said. “I’ll take care of this.”

“No,” she said firmly, opening her eyes and shaking her head.

“Lee, come on! If I talk to her and tell her to back off, she’ll—”

“I said no, Evan!” she shouted, now beyond frustrated. “Don’t talk to her about this. I don’t need you to be our go-between! Don’t wave your magic Murdoch wand!” she said, illustrating her words by waving her hand in the air. “Dammit, just stay out of it! You back off!”

He flinched, looking hurt.

Leila hadn’t meant to yell at him, but frankly, she was getting tired of this—of all of this! She couldn’t go anywhere without being reminded of Evan or his money or his powerful family. She wasn’t seen as Leila Hawkins anymore. Who cared that she had grown up in Chesterton, had once held down multiple jobs to pay the rent, and had been the head of her own household only months ago? All they cared about was that she was Evan Murdoch’s pregnant mistress, his live-in whore! Even Isabel’s life seemed to be inextricably linked with the Murdochs, her name now tied with theirs—whether she liked it or not.

This isn’t what I signed up for, Leila thought, shaking her head ruefully. She’d had no idea when she and Evan started on this path that her life would turn into this . . . that she would feel like a woman who had lost her identity and all sense of control.

She took another shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Ev. I didn’t mean to lash out at you like that, but I’m just . . . just tired. I’m tired of all this bullshit!”

She left it at that, not wanting to say any more, worried at how she might hurt him more than she already had if she told him the full truth.

“I know,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. She dropped her head to his shoulder and he rubbed her back. “I know. I hate seeing you upset like this. Really, I can talk to her and—”

“No, Ev,” she said, raising her head to gaze at him again. “I mean it! She’s trying to get a reaction out of me and definitely trying to get a response from you. I refuse to give in to her!”

She knew responding to Charisse’s baiting was a no-win game. Even if Leila was justified in wanting to exact revenge for everything Charisse had done to her—the sabotage and rumors—no one else in Chesterton would see it that way. To them, Leila was still Evan’s mistress, trying to take Charisse’s rightful place in the Murdoch household. It would only make things worse for her and Isabel.

“Promise me that you’ll stay out of this, Ev.”

He pursed his lips.

“I know you want to help and I . . . I appreciate it, but I don’t want you to get involved. Promise me that you won’t.”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“No, not ‘fine.’ ‘I promise.’ I know how you are. I want to hear you say it!”

The bedroom fell silent as she waited for his response, wondering if he would really agree to her request. She watched as Ev took another deep breath and nodded.

“I promise,” he finally said.