Authors: Kate Perry
He rubbed his neck and took a deep breath. “Can you call Howell’s office and see if he’s in?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, hurrying to do as he requested, though Merrick knew she was just trying to get away from him.
He strode into his office and closed the door. He sat down and tried to think of how he could repair the damage he’d done this week.
His mobile buzzed, alerting him of a text. He pulled it out of his pocket, disappointed when he saw it was Valerie.
Then he read the text.
Did you and Imogen stop seeing each other?
Jaw clenched, he replied,
What are you talking about?
A second later, she sent him a web address for an entertainment site. He clicked on it and froze when he saw Gigi’s radiant smile aimed at that man she’d been photographed with in the street—the man she’d assured him she wasn’t seeing.
Logic said there was a good reason for this.
Bugger logic
. He picked up a paperweight from his desk and threw it across the room.
Outside, in his main office, he heard his staff go silent.
He didn’t care. He looked at the picture again, reading the caption, the article, and anything else associated with it. An industry cocktail party.
His office phone rang. For a moment, he debated not answering it, but if it rang through past his secretary, it was important. “Merrick Graham.”
“Graham, Thomas Kane.”
He gritted his teeth. “This isn’t a good time, Kane.”
“Obviously not.” The old man chuckled. “I heard you’re cracking up.”
“Who said that?” he asked, his voice low.
“Everyone’s saying it. A lot of speculation going on. You know what I think?”
“I don’t think I want to know,” he muttered.
Kane laughed. “Probably not, which is why I’m going to tell you. It’s a woman.”
Merrick sat up, at attention. “What do you mean?”
“When a man falls apart the way you are, there’s always a woman involved. Fact of life. I’d say I’m sorry for you, but I’m not.”
“Thank you for taking pleasure in my apparent misfortune.”
“All part of the game, my boy.” The man chuckled. “I’m going to be interested to see what you decide to do. If you’re really a bad boy, or if you man up and become a true politician.”
“What do you mean
become a true politician
?”
“A true politician looks out for himself, son. You should know that by now.”
Merrick listened to the flat dial tone, hearing the echo of Kane’s words.
He pushed back from his desk and strode out.
The entire office stilled, as if everyone were holding their breaths.
Shaking his head, he just walked out. He considered going for a walk, but it was raining. He thought of going home and putting his rain gear on and going for a ride. Instead, after he arrived home, he went to his office, picked up Malcolm, and went upstairs.
To the music room.
For a moment, he stood in the threshold, looking in on his former life. Michaela used to lounge on the pillows on the floor, near the window, while he sat at the piano and composed. She’d plot how to make a better world as he plotted the next popular song.
He walked across the room and poured himself a drink from the decanter. He took the drink and the gnome and set them both on top of the baby grand. He hesitated.
Then he sat down.
Next to the gnome, Michaela smiled at him. Happy. Forever frozen in time. He traced her face. He’d loved her, even as a teenager when they should have always been fighting. She’d been so cool—fun. She’d been his number one fan.
He missed her with a violent ache—still, after all these years.
He heard music distantly. It confused him for a moment until he realized he’d started to play “Love Leaves Dreaming.” It’d been Michaela’s favorite song.
His fingers felt stiff on the keys, but they warmed up faster than he’d have expected.
Swallowing back his sadness, he played to the end and then began a new song—a song for Michaela.
He let it pour through him, echoing his sadness, anger, and guilt. He infused it with light moments, bits of the happiness his sister had radiated. He finished it on a soft note, drawing it out sweetly.
Closing the lid over the keyboard, he stood. He left the drink untouched and stuffed the knickers back in his pocket. Then he returned the gnome back to its spot in the office, feeling as though if he left it with Michaela’s picture, they’d gang up against him.
Chapter Nineteen
“You’ve got to give me something more, Holly.”
Marjorie’s displeasure was loud and clear even over the crackly phone line. Holly shook her head even though she knew her boss couldn’t see her. “I’m working on it,” she lied as she turned on South Street.
“It’s been days since you’ve given me any new news regarding Imogen, and you haven’t convinced her to take the part in Craig’s next film either. What are you doing over there?”
Barely keeping everything together. She tugged on Jamie’s hand as he started to wander. She’d been at her wit’s end since he’d been suspended from class, and it’d only been two days. Add Marjorie to the mix, and she wanted to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head. “I’ve been home for a couple days, but I’m headed over to Imogen’s now.”
That was actually the truth. She’d called in sick for the first couple days of Jamie’s suspension because she hadn’t had anyone to watch him.
But she couldn’t afford to take more time off, and there was the matter of coming up with something to report.
She sighed.
“You can’t ride on your last success forever, Holly,” Marjorie said. “I need information. Who is the mystery man Imogen’s infatuated with? She has to be seeing him sometime.”
Exasperated, Holly rolled her eyes. “Well, given how the media’s been stalking her, she’s going to be careful about when she sees him, isn’t she?”
“That’s true,” Marjorie said, as though it hadn’t occurred to her. There was a rustle on the other end. “Damn it, I have to go. Find out when she’s seeing this man, Holly. You have until the end of the week, and it better be good or else you’re out.”
Fabulous. Frowning, Holly tucked her phone away and got out the key to the Summerhill house as they walked up the porch.
“Are you okay, Mum?”
“I’m fine, love.” She glanced down at Jamie, her heart turning over. He was so dear.
And such a terror. Was she actually taking him into the Summerhill house?
“Jamie.” She leaned down to look Jamie in the eye, so he’d know how serious she was. “I need to do some work. You’re going to sit
very
quietly on a couch with your books, and you will
not
move. Do you understand me?”
“I can’t move at all?”
“No.”
“What about my eyelids?” He fluttered them.
“Not even your eyelids.”
“That’s going to be hard.” His face puckered. “How will I turn the pages of my books if I can’t move?”
Heaven help her.
When in doubt, resort to bribery. She sighed dramatically. “I was going to give you a treat after, but I guess we’ll skip that if you don’t think you can behave.”
He perked up. “What kind of treat?”
“You’ll get to play with your robotics.”
He gasped. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He stiffened his body on the spot, holding his breath, his eyes bulging like he was going to explode.
“You can breathe, silly.” She unlocked the door. “You just have to read quietly on the couch.”
“Okay.” He relaxed and followed her inside.
She took him to the front room. No one ever went in there, as far as she knew. He tiptoed in behind her and then hopped up on the sofa she pointed to. She winced, watching him get his shoes on what was probably expensive fabric.
Shaking her head, she set his backpack next to him. “I’ll come back to check on you in a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay, Mum.” He unzipped his bag as she left the room.
Gigi was jogging down the staircase as Holly entered the hallway. The actress smiled at her, blotting her face with a towel. “Hello, stranger. Welcome back. I—”
Crash
.
They both froze, staring at each other. And then Holly groaned. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she hurried to the living room.
Gigi followed on her heels, arriving a second behind her to find Jamie wide-eyed, sitting on the couch with shards of broken china on the floor next to him. “It fell,” he said guiltily.
Holly dropped her head in her hand. She was going to be fired—she knew it. For breaking what was probably priceless as well as lying about Jamie.
Fran bustled into the room. “I heard something break. Is everyone all right?”
Holly frowned at her son. “Not for long.”
Jamie looked abashed. “I’m sorry.”
Fran held her hand out to him. “Things fall all the time. Have you learned about gravity yet in school?”
He shook his head as he hopped off the couch and put his hand in hers.
“How about I tell you over cookies and milk?” Fran said, giving Holly a reassuring smile, and she neatly led the kid out.
“I assume that’s your son,” Gigi said, leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed.
“Until I find trolls who are willing to buy him.” Resigning herself to being thrown out, she bent down to start cleaning the broken bits. “I knew better than to bring him, but I wanted to check on you, and I didn’t have anyone to watch him. I’m so sorry.”
“There’s no reason to be sorry,” Gigi said. “And stop that before you cut yourself. Franny will handle it.”
Holly looked up at Gigi. From this vantage point, she was even more like a goddess than usual, especially given the benevolent expression on her face. “You aren’t going to send me packing?”
“Why would I do that? Because your son is rambunctious?”
“And the vase?”
Gigi shrugged. “There are more in the house. I’m sure Fran or my mum will replace it with another.
Holly stood and stared at the mess on the floor. “Was it very expensive?”
Gigi began to laugh.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she mumbled. She hadn’t paid for the school windows yet.
Gigi put an arm around her. “We never liked that urn anyway.”
Chapter Twenty
Gigi swept into the bakery, shaking the rain off herself and her umbrella. Normally, the scent of yeast and vanilla soothed her right away—they conjured memories of Fran and the happy parts of childhood. Today, she was so annoyed that not even seeing Titania lifted her spirits.
Titania must have felt her walk in. She glanced up, an irritated expression on her face, too.
Gigi strode over to her, waving the magazine she took out of her purse. “I realize I’m late, but I had to stop for this. So don’t even think of biting my head off.”
“I wasn’t going to rail at you.”
She arched her brow as she hung her coat on the back of her chair.
“Maybe I was,” Titania acquiesced. “But you’re the one who told me to meet you here at this ungodly hour and then show up late.”
“It’s eleven in the morning.”
“Exactly.” Titania sat back, folding her arms. “What has you so upset?”
“This.” Fueled with renewed indignation, she waved the magazine. The last thing she’d expected to see was a picture of herself, smiling at Dirk as if he were her sun. “It’s ridiculous. Do you see this?”
“How can I not when you’re waving it in my face like that?”
“Don’t they have better things to do than to follow me around and report on what I’m eating and who I’m seeing? Why does anyone care?” Incensed she tossed it on the table. The blatant lie of the picture made her sick to her stomach.
“Because you’re the Incomparable Imogen Summerhill,” Titania said as she reached for it.
She arched her brows. “Impressive that you managed to say that without gagging.”
The smallest hint of a smile curved her sister’s lips. “Do I need to remind you that this is exactly what you’ve wanted all your life? Don’t you remember how you used to crawl into my bed at night and tell me how you were going to conquer Hollywood and everyone would know your name? That’s exactly what you got.”
“I guess one should be careful what one wishes for.” She got up and went to the pastry case as Titania began to flip through the magazine. She ordered a few treats and tea and returned to their table.
Titania set the magazine away as Gigi sat down. “What’s really bothering you? This isn’t about this article. You know how to handle the press. Is it about Dirk? Or is it about this mystery man everyone’s wondering about?”
Gigi froze a moment, then laughed as casually as she could. “Mystery man? You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers.”
“Somehow I believe this one.” Her sister sat back and studied her. “Who is he?”
“There’s—”
“You can’t lie to me,” Titania said. “I know you.”
She wilted, worrying the tassels on her scarf. She smiled faintly at the server who set their pastries and beverages on the table. When the boy was gone, she took a deep breath. “He’s a politician.”
Titania burst out laughing.
Gigi wadded up a napkin and threw it at her. “It’s not funny. It’s awful. It’s almost worse than dating an actor.”
Her sister sobered. “You like him,” she said with shock.
She lowered her voice. “I like him a lot.”
“Might we even call it love?” Titania asked, reaching for a treat.
She remembered when Portia had asked just a few months before how you’d know when you were in love. Gigi had equated love to the plague. She still wasn’t sure she was too far off the mark. “We don’t know what we’d call it.”
“That’s as good as an admission of undying devotion. So you must be moping because he doesn’t love you.”
“We don’t know that.”
Titania pointed her pastry at her. “But you don’t
not
know that either, apparently.”
Gigi frowned.
“Tell me about him.”
“No.” Then she pouted. “He’s very attractive. It’s more than being handsome. He’s intelligent and powerful.”
Her sister nodded. “You always liked the forceful, master-of-the-universe types.”