“Two pink lines mean yes, one means no,” Gabrielle reminded herself as she awaited the results of her home pregnancy test. She’d waited three months in vain for her period to appear, but it was time to face the fact: She was pregnant.
While she waited for the drugstore test to tell her what she already knew, Gabrielle took time to think about the way her life was unfolding. Despite the fact that both she and Jack had been on the road the greater part of their seven-month marriage, the two of them had settled into an easy and very comfortable union. Their life together was happy and mutually satisfying.
Gabrielle had finally stopped worrying about falling in love with her husband. It wasn’t important anymore. If it happened, it happened. Unless Jack was a better actor than she thought, they both seemed quite content with the way things were.
Gabrielle might not have married the great love of her life, but she got something just as important from her relationship with Jack—peace of mind. With his love and support she was slowly regaining her confidence and feeling better about her career. Jack’s knowing that she couldn’t read made home a safe haven for Gabrielle. She didn’t have to make excuses or pretend when she was with Jack. Sharing her secret had given her security, a treasured friendship, great passion, and now a baby.
But do I want this baby? she asked herself, looking at the two-lined test strip. Gabrielle had decided long ago that she would never bring a child into this world. Her decision was made, not because she didn’t love children or desire motherhood, but because Gabrielle had never believed she could be a good mother. How could she read her child a bedtime story or help out with homework? How could she work and communicate with a child’s teacher or doctor? And what was the likelihood that a child of hers might also be illiterate? How could Gabrielle subject her own flesh and blood to the kind of humiliation and degradation she’d known all her life?
More than anything, Gabrielle feared that she would place her child in constant jeopardy because of her inability to read prescription doses, danger warnings, and the like. How could she compromise the safety of her own child? Wasn’t the death of one child at her hands enough?
Now that you’re pregnant, you must tell Jack, Gabrielle’s conscience reminded her. You can’t keep Tommy a secret forever. Impossible, she decided. As understanding as Jack might be about her “dyslexia,” asking him to understand this tragedy was asking too much. Gabrielle would take the secret of Tommy Montebello to her grave.
Besides, things were different now. She was older, and Jack would be there to protect their child. He could help their child avoid the heartbreak that she herself had endured. They’d also have to hire someone to help out when she went back to work. They would employ the smartest, most competent nanny they could find; better yet, a nurse. Suddenly Gabrielle felt better about this pregnancy, knowing that her baby would be surrounded by people to love and take care of him or her. And she mustn’t forget Bea. Beatrice would make such a fabulous grandmother.
Gabrielle heard Jack’s key in the door, and she scurried to hide the pregnancy test.
“How are you, Beauty?” Jack asked as he swooped into the room and kissed his wife.
“Lonely. I’ve missed you,” she admitted, kissing him back.
“Me, too. Got any plans for this evening?” Jack asked, attempting to make a meal of her earlobe.
“Nothing special.”
“Then how about we order in some Thai food, get naked, and have a feast in bed?”
“Before the feast, could we have a little discussion?”
“About?”
“About the honeymoon you promised me. I’ve been working nonstop, and I’m tired. Let’s go somewhere. Just the two of us.”
“Where would you like to go? Paris, maybe?” Jack suggested.
“No,” Gabrielle said, sounding more abrupt than she intended. Paris held very special memories for her, all inappropriate to relive on her honeymoon with another man. “To be honest, I’d love to go somewhere close. I’m tired of sitting on airplanes for hours on end.”
“How about New England? Killington, Vermont, would be perfect.”
“But it’s July. Isn’t Killington a ski resort?” she asked.
“In the wintertime. In the spring and summer it’s wonderful. Lots of fresh air. Green grass. Wildflowers. You’ll love it,” Jack assured her.
“Sounds perfect. Can we go soon? Like in the next week or two?”
“I’m really tied up with the Nabisco account right now—”
“Jack, please. I don’t ask for much. I need to get away now. Can’t you work something out?” she insisted.
“Okay, since it’s obviously very important to you, I’ll talk to Fritz and try to clear my schedule,” Jack promised.
“Try?”
“Okay, I’ll definitely clear it.”
“Thank you,” Gabrielle said, giving her husband a big kiss.
“What about your screen test with Lexis Richards?”
“I’m not sure I’m going to do that anymore.”
“Why not? I thought we agreed. You know Beatrice and I will help you with your lines.”
“I just have the feeling I’m going to get very busy in the next few months. I’m not sure I can fit filming a movie into my schedule.”
“Why don’t you do the test? You can always decline the role, but at least this way you keep your options open,” he suggested.
“We’ll talk about it later.” Gabrielle was grateful for a legitimate excuse to once again delay her entry into acting. She knew that Jack and Lexis would understand her reason for not doing the screen test after she told them she was pregnant. “Just promise me that you won’t tell anyone about our plans. I don’t want our honeymoon to turn into a photo-taking free-for-all.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Well, my darling, unseal them and kiss me,” Gabrielle demanded as their lips melted together. Then, abruptly she pulled away. “Jack, promise me that nothing will get in the way of our taking this trip.”
“Promise.” Jack was anxious to get away with his beautiful wife as well. This honeymoon was the perfect opportunity to broach the subject of Gabrielle’s going public with her dyslexia. He was convinced that once she did, she would be able to realize her full potential as a model and actress, and she’d love him forever for being the one to free her from her invisible shackles.
Stephanie sat in the Wilcot, Jourdan & Associates staff meeting wondering how much longer she was going to have to endure this bullshit. Granted, with two partners and a staff of eight, these meetings had come a long way from the days of she and Felicia sitting face to face, but they were still tedious as hell. Stephanie was now the most senior associate, and, unfortunately, Felicia had stayed true to her word and given her more challenging assignments. Working two jobs, while lucrative, was exhausting.
Even though “The Grain Harvest” had officially become “The Visa Lee Report,” Stephanie was reluctant to leave until she had the manuscript to Gabrielle’s life story in her hot little hands. Until her plan to smear Gabrielle into submission bore fruit, she was stuck in this office, required to follow the orders of these two dingbats.
Stephanie definitely had far more fun writing her gossip column than pumping out press releases. Her alter ego, Visa Lee, and Howie were having a ball collecting juicy tidbits and revealing photos of their celebrity subjects. Their collaboration was working out nicely, and, thanks to Howie, Stephanie was building quite a collection of exclusive photos and stories for Gabrielle’s biography.
While Lois and Felicia whined on about the status of their clients, Stephanie began a new list of setups for Gabrielle. An affair perhaps? That might cause a few fireworks in the Hollis household. Stephanie put a big star by that one and continued to think.
She needed something that did more damage to Gabrielle’s good-girl public image. Nothing so far had made a big enough dent in her “little darling” persona. The “diva moment” reports around the canceled soap opera and awards show hadn’t had the prolonged impact she’d hoped for. To date the biggest stir had come after the fight at Nell’s. Never before had her fans thought of Gabrielle as a party girl. That’s it, Stephanie decided. It was time for Gabrielle to step into the volatile world of celebrity parties. If the combination of sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll couldn’t do serious damage to a reputation, nothing could.
“Okay, that takes care of Laurence Fishburne, now let’s move on to In the House Filmworks,” Felicia said. “With the mammoth success of Praline Livin’, Lexis Richards’s next film is generating a huge amount of interest. Soul Survivor could be the film that makes him a major Hollywood player.”
“Everybody is talking about it, particularly if he’ll be the one to finally snag Gabrielle Donovan,” Lois remarked.
“Good. As long as the talk is positive, I’m happy. Now, to keep that chatter going, we want to blanket the media with stories about our client. Every time I turn around, I want to see, hear, or read about Lexis Richards.”
“I guess you’ll be handling this one personally, right, Felicia?” Stephanie asked with a casual snideness to her tone.
“As a matter of fact, our newest associate, Timberly, will be taking over Lexis’s account on a day-to-day basis. I’ll be concentrating more on overall strategy.” Felicia would never admit to anyone, with the exception of Lois, that it was too difficult for her to work as closely with Lexis as she had in the past.
Since the incident, Felicia and Trace’s divorce had taken a backseat to the rebuilding of Trace’s shattered self-image. Just as Lexis had predicted, the arrest had brought the couple back together, effectively putting a grinding halt to any romance between her and the director. Just how temporary an alliance it was still remained to be seen, as Felicia found herself wondering if perhaps her marriage was revivable after all.
“Stephanie, I need you to call and cancel all of Gabrielle’s appearances for July third through the ninth,” Felicia said.
“Is she sick or something?”
“No, she’s going on vacation. She and Jack are finally taking a honeymoon, and they want it kept very hush-hush.”
A Fourth of July honeymoon, Stephanie mused. This could be interesting. There’s got to be something I can do to add a few fireworks to the trip.
“You can send out the press release on her Model of the Year nomination for the VH1 Fashion Awards. I made a few changes, and it’s back on your desk,” Felicia continued.
“What if we need to talk to her once this release goes out? How can we reach her? You know, for a quote or something,” Stephanie asked, trying to gather information without drawing suspicion.
“It will have to wait. She and Jack don’t want to be reached.”
“If that’s all, I’ll go start canceling Gabrielle’s appearances,” she said.
“That’s it.”
Dismissed, Stephanie headed straight for her office and picked up the phone. If Felicia wouldn’t tell her where Gabrielle was going, she knew who could. Quickly Stephanie dialed Bea’s phone number and waited impatiently for her to answer. Finally, after the sixth ring, she picked up.
“Hello.”
“Bea, it’s Stephanie.”
“Hello, dear, how are you?”
“I’m okay, though I have a little problem and could use your help.”
“Oh?”
“My apartment is being fumigated, and I was wondering if I could camp out at your place? Just for one night.”
“Sure, honey. When?”
“Thursday. Thanks, Bea. Hey, you know what would be fun? Maybe Gabrielle can come down. We can have a slumber party. It will be like old times in Brooklyn,” Stephanie suggested.
“She and Jack will be out of town,” Bea revealed, trying to remember any such slumber party in the brownstone.
“Where are they off to?” she asked casually, trying to save herself from having to spend any more time with Henny Penny than absolutely necessary.
“They want to get away by themselves for a short time.”
It was clear that Beatrice was not about to break any confidences, so Stephanie didn’t push the subject. She’d find out all in due time. “Oh, that’s too bad. See you Thursday.”
“Bea, you look tired. Why don’t you go to bed? There’s no need to stay up on my account,” Stephanie told the woman.
“I think I will turn in. You’re sure you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa in my office?”
“I’m fine, really,” Stephanie said, patiently waiting for Beatrice to vacate the room.
“Okay, then, good night,” Bea said, shuffling off to bed.
Stephanie waited ten minutes for Beatrice to settle into bed before beginning her search. She sat down and quietly rifled through the papers on the top of the desk, finding her bills and other personal correspondence but nothing about Gabrielle’s trip. In one of the file drawers she found a multitude of folders containing fan letters, autographed pictures, and personal-appearance requests. In the other drawer she found newspaper clippings chronicling most of Gabrielle’s career accomplishments.
Giving up on the desk, she stood up to move on to the closet. Inadvertently her thigh pulled open a narrow drawer located on the underside of the desk. She drew it open to find several photographs, some ballpoint pens, and a calendar book. Stephanie pulled out the calendar and leafed through the pages. She grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down a few dates and places Gabrielle would be in the future. She turned to the dates in question and found exactly what she was looking for.
Vermont? What a cheesy honeymoon. Jack always was a cheap bastard. Stephanie jotted down the address before happily shoving the appointment book back into the drawer. Hearing the distinct sound of metal scraping against wood, she once again removed the datebook and ran her hand through the inside of the drawer. Her fingers got tangled up in a silky cord, and when Stephanie removed her hand she was holding a gold skeleton key dangling from an orange tassel. I wonder what this is for, she thought curiously as she peered around the room.
Stephanie got up from the desk and quietly opened the closet doors. There were several winter coats and other seasonal clothing hanging in the closet. On the floor, toward the back of the space, was a wooden chest. Stephanie pulled the chest into the room and inspected the lock. It made no difference that the key in her hand was too small, because the chest was not locked. She lifted the lid and dug around inside. The smell of cedar wafted up and assaulted Stephanie’s nostrils.
Trying to ignore the repugnant smell, Stephanie lifted out a blanket and several wool sweaters. Further rummaging produced a few personal trinkets—what looked to be some sort of sailor’s cap and an eight-by-ten pearwood box with a keyhole meant to be joined with the key in her hand. Bingo!
Stephanie quickly unlocked the box and poured its contents onto the carpet. Scattered before her was a band from an old cigar, a set of black onyx rosary beads, a sealed letter, and several old photographs of Beatrice and a young man wearing a uniform. Stephanie studied the pictures. So old Mother Superior did have a life a long, long time ago. Stephanie put down the photos and picked up the letter. She was shocked to see that the envelope was addressed to Gabrielle at the brownstone residence. Even more surprising was the fact that the sender was Doug Sixsmith.
Now, this is interesting, Stephanie thought. Why would Beatrice have an unopened letter from Doug to Gabrielle locked up and tucked away in her closet? Even more puzzling to Stephanie was why the letter had not been read. Jesus, if you’re going to go through the trouble of stealing a letter, you should at least read the damn thing, she thought as she flipped the envelope over and over through her fingertips. By the same token, to happen upon a mystery this intriguing and let it go without further investigation would be just as stupid.
Carefully she broke the seal, lifted the letter from the eggshell-colored envelope, and quickly read Doug’s letter. By the letter’s end it was finally clear what had really happened between Gabrielle and Doug.
Stephanie laughed aloud as she realized that she and Beatrice were now partners in crime. While her story in Star Diary had provided the catalyst for their breakup, Beatrice had made sure they stayed that way. Stephanie’s laughter stopped abruptly when she realized that had Beatrice kept her meddling paws out of things, maybe Gabrielle wouldn’t have married Jack.
She tucked the letter into her overnight bag before returning everything to its rightful place. Stephanie snickered to herself as she climbed into the sofa bed. Why in heaven’s name did Beatrice keep this letter? Why hadn’t she destroyed it or simply had it returned to sender? Why? Because, thank God, Beatrice was too unbelievably stupid to be true.