Read Mr. And Miss Anonymous Online
Authors: Fern Michaels
Tags: #Man-Woman Relationships, #Ovum Donors, #Fertility Clinics, #College Students, #General, #Romance, #Suspense, #Large Type Books, #Fiction, #Love Stories
Six months later
T
he five hundred guests clapped their hands the moment the minister said, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
The huge white tents were filled to overflowing with PAK staff, Lily’s employees, and the couple’s friends and relatives. There was no shortage of food or wine. The music was dance music, old nostalgic songs of Lily’s and Pete’s youth. The guests loved it.
A small group consisting of Charlie Garrison, his friend Dorothy, Tessie, Harry, Zolly, Josh, and Jesse—what Tessie called the insiders—sat together at a huge round table making small talk.
“Do you have any news, Aunt Tessie?” Josh asked.
“Yes and no. The world is still looking for the man who killed your friends. They will find him, Josh. It’s just going to take time. I’m on it, and you know me, I’m like a dog with a bone. I have something for you, Josh. Come on up to the house so I can show you.”
On the walk up the sloping hill, Tessie asked, “How’s it all going, Josh? Is it working out?”
“It is. I’m taking this semester off to get back in the swing of things. Dad bought me an old clunker of a car, in case I wreck it, and taught me how to drive. I go back and forth to the community college every day. I take the SATs next week, then I think I’ll go to college here in Montana. I don’t want to go back to California. The monument to my friends was finished last month. If you aren’t too tired, would you like to see it?”
“I would like to see it very much.”
They were at the house. Tessie found her way to her room and searched through her bag for the letter she’d received just a week ago. She looked at it and smiled.
“Did I tell you that you look as handsome as your father?”
Josh laughed. Tessie was startled at the sound. She’d never heard Josh laugh before. She handed over the envelope. “It’s just the notification letter. I plan to give the prize to you. I just wrote about it all, you lived it.”
“But it’s a Pulitzer. You can’t give it away.”
“Wanna bet? What am I going to do with three of those things? Two’s enough for me. Come on, show me the monument.”
Back in one of the white tents, Pete looked at Lily. “Where did Josh and Tessie go?”
“I don’t know, Pete. I don’t see either one of them. The security detail is wherever Josh is, so don’t panic. Did I tell you how handsome you look? All the women here are so jealous.” Lily giggled.
“Ha! Every man here is shooting daggers at me. You look more beautiful today than you did the first time we met.”
Lily laughed. “Go find your son! Tell him they want to take pictures soon.”
Pete made his way through the throngs of friends and colleagues. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he knew where Josh and Tessie were.
Outside in the brisk early-autumn air, Pete looked toward the hill behind the main house. In the distance he could see two lone figures approaching the black-granite monument he’d worked night and day to have erected. To date, Josh had never invited him to go to the hill. He himself, Pete knew, went up every day and stayed for at least an hour. Pete wondered sadly if he would ever be invited to make that trek with his son. Lily said it would happen, she just didn’t say when.
Pete stood at the bottom of the hill willing his son to turn around. He did and motioned for Pete to join them. Another small step in acceptance by Josh.
“What do you think, Tessie?” Pete asked as he approached.
“It’s magnificent. A very fitting tribute. Whoever the artisan was who did this is very talented.”
“It was all Josh’s idea. Notice that Charlie Garrison is the honorary grandfather to all of them. Every symbol on the monument meant something to each of the kids. Sheila liked butterflies. Tom liked baseballs and so on. It’s peaceful here under our big sky. It’s shady here in the summer, the grass mossy green and perfect as a final resting place. It will be a little stark here in the winter, but it will be all right because spring will be just around the corner.”
Tessie looked from father to son, and said, “I should be getting back. Zolly promised to tango with me.” She waved airily and started down the gentle incline.
“If you want to be alone, Josh, I can leave, too.”
“No. I’m glad you came up here. What took you so long?”
“I was waiting to be invited, Josh. I didn’t want to intrude. This…” he said, waving his arms about, “is all about you. I am so proud of you for wanting to do this.”
“Hey, 8446, this might be a good time to open up a little. I like this place. If it wasn’t for your dad, we’d all still be in that morgue,”
Tom grumbled.
“Yeah, Josh. How about introducing us to your father? By the way, thanks for the butterflies,”
Sheila said.
Josh threw his head back and laughed until he doubled over. He rolled over and over in the dry grass, not caring about his custom-made tuxedo. Pete watched as his son rolled down the hill laughing his head off. He blinked, then blinked again when he saw a vaporous figure take shape.
“Sometimes they act like six-year-olds,”
Sheila said.
“Will you promise to take really good care of Josh, Mr. Kelly?”
Pete blinked again. He must have had too much champagne. He whirled around and saw a second vaporous figure. He thought he saw a pretty girl with long, curly brown hair. She was wearing a pink dress with flowers around the sleeves. “I don’t understand,” he said inanely.
“Josh is afraid none of this is real. He’s afraid to let go. That’s why he keeps calling on us. He hasn’t realized he doesn’t need us anymore. He has you and Jesse and Lily. He has a family now, with a new aunt, uncle, and grandfather, and your own family. It’s up to you to show him the way. Uh-oh, they’re going to punch each other out if I don’t put a stop to it. I love it when they fight over me,”
Sheila said, scampering to the bottom of the hill.
Pete thought he was going to black out for a second when he looked down at the bottom of the little hill. It was the champagne, he was sure of it. He really wasn’t seeing two spirits and his son tussling on the ground.
Pete started down the hill. The hard leather of his wedding shoes hit the grass the wrong way and suddenly he was rolling down the hill. He felt more than one pair of arms pick him up. Shaky but determined, Pete looked at his son. “I heard them. I saw them.”
“I know. It was time for you to meet them on their own turf. That’s the way Tom put it. I went up the hill with Tessie to say good-bye.”
Pete wrapped his arm around his son’s shoulder. “I don’t think you can ever really say goodbye. This place will always be here, thanks to you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go up there from time to time. You know, just so your friends know they haven’t been forgotten.”
“Sheila will like that. Hey, Dad, wanna know a secret?”
“Sure.” Pete felt his chest puff out at the words.
“Sheila thinks we were fighting over her. We weren’t. Tom was just paying me back for some of the stupid things I did along the way.”
Father and son laughed all the way back to the big white tent.
Lily gasped when she saw the grass stains and dry debris sticking to the fancy tuxedos.
“I’ll tell you later,” Pete whispered.
“See you two later.” Josh laughed. “Tessie said she’s going to teach me to tango.”
“C’mon, Mrs. Kelly, let’s watch our son learn how to dance.”
“Then what are we going to do with the rest of our lives, Mr. Kelly?”
“Well, Mrs. Kelly, our lives from here on in will be dedicated to finding each and every one of those children who came out of the fertility clinic. We are going to spend every last cent we have to give them a real life. You okay with that, Mrs. Kelly?”
“I’m okay with it, Mr. Kelly. Oh, look, Josh has the same two left feet his father has!”
“This is one of those times when there is no response, Mr. Kelly. Trust me,”
Tom said.
“I hear you, son.”
If you enjoy Fern Michaels’s unique brand of wonderfully entertaining storytelling, you won’t want to miss her exciting new series, The Godmothers. Turn the page for a special preview of both
THE SCOOP,
a Kensington mass-market paperback on sale in April 2012,
and
DEADLINE,
a Kensington trade paperback on sale in May 2012.
Charleston, South Carolina
I
t was an event, there was no doubt about it. Not that funerals were, as a rule, events, but when someone of Leland St. John’s stature bit the dust, it became one. The seven-piece string band playing in the downpour, per one of Leland’s last wishes, had turned it into an event regardless of what else was going on in the world.
Then there was the tail end of Hurricane Blanche, which was unleashing torrents of rain upon the mourners huddled under the dark blue tent and only added to the circuslike atmosphere.
“Will you just get on with it,” Toots Loudenberry mumbled under her breath. She continued to mutter and mumble as the minister droned on and on. “No one is as good as you’re making Leland sound. All you know is what I told you, and I sure as hell didn’t tell you all that crap you’re spouting. He was a selfish, rich, old man. End of story.”
Toots’s daughter leaned closer to her mother and tried to whisper through the thick veil covering her mother’s head and ears. “Can’t you hurry it along? It’s not like this is the first time you’ve done this. Isn’t this the seventh or eighth husband you’ve buried? I’m damn glad that preacher said his name, or I wouldn’t even know who it is that’s being planted. I gotta say, Mom, you outdid yourself with all these flowers.”
Toots rose to the occasion and stepped forward, cutting the minister off in midsentence. “Thank you, Reverend.” She wanted to say his check was in the mail, but she bit her tongue as she took a step forward and laid her wilted rose on top of the bronze coffin. She stepped aside so the other mourners could follow her out from under the temporary tent, which was open on all four sides. She stepped in water up to her ankles, cursed ripely, and sloshed her way to the waiting limousine, which would take her back home. “That’s just like you, Leland. Why couldn’t you have waited one more week, and the rainy season would have been over? Now my shoes are ruined. So is my hat, as well as my suit. Too bad you don’t know how much this outfit cost. If you did, you would have waited another week to die. You always were selfish. See what all that selfishness got you. You’re dead.”
“What are you mumbling about, Mom?”
Toots slid into the limousine and kicked off her sodden shoes. Her black mourning hat followed. She looked over at her daughter, Abby, who looked like a drowned rat, and said, “Of all my husbands, I liked Leland the least. I resent having to attend his funeral under these conditions. He was my only mistake. But one out of eight, I suppose, isn’t too bad.”
Abby reached for a wad of paper napkins next to the champagne bottle that seemed to come with all limousines. “Why didn’t you just crisp him up?”
Toots sighed. “I wanted to, but Leland said in his will that he wanted to be buried with that damn string band playing music. One has to honor a person’s last wishes. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t honor his, even if he was a jerk?”
“Don’t you mean if you didn’t honor those last wishes, what’s-his-name’s money would have gone to the polar bears in the Arctic?”
“That, too.” Toots sighed.
The woman born Teresa Amelia Loudenberry, Toots to her friends, stared at her daughter. “How long are you staying, dear?”
“I have a four o’clock flight. I left Chester with a sitter, and Chester does not like sitters. There’s just enough time for me to grab something to eat at your post feast, change into dry clothes, and get outta here. Can’t you hear California calling my name? Don’t look at me like that, Mom. I didn’t even know that guy you married. I met him at your wedding, and that’s the sum total of our relationship. If I remember correctly, you said he was a charmer. I expected a charmer. I did not get a charmer. I’m just saying.”
“Maybe I should have said snake charmer,” Toots said vaguely. “Leland was like this gorgeously wrapped present that when opened was quite…tacky. I was stunned, but I did marry the man, so I had to make the best of it. He’s gone now, so perhaps we shouldn’t speak ill of him. I’ll mourn for ten days for the sake of appearance, then get on with my life. I’m going to find a hobby to keep myself busy. I’m sick and tired of doing good deeds. Anyone can do good deeds. Anyone can garden and grow one-of-a-kind roses. I need to do something that will make a difference, something challenging. Something I can really sink my teeth into. That’s another thing. Leland wore dentures. He kept them in a cup in the bathroom at night. I could never get used to that. He wasn’t very good in bed, either.”
“That’s probably more than I need to know, Mom.”
“I’m just saying, Abby. I don’t want you to think your old mom is callous. You have to admit I did have seven happy marriages. I should have hung up my garter belt when Dolph died. Did I do that? No, I did not. I let Leland sweep me off my feet, dentures and all. Sometimes life is so unfair.
“That’s enough of a pity party for me. Tell me how it’s going out there in sunny California. How’s the job going? What’s the latest hot gossip, and who is doing what to whom in Hollywood?”
Abby Simpson, Toots’s daughter by her first husband, John Simpson, the absolute love of Toots’s life, was a reporter for a second-rate tabloid,
The Informer,
based in Los Angeles. She was a second-string runner, which meant she had to hit the pavement and find her own stories, then elaborate on them for the public’s insatiable appetite for Hollywood gossip.
“Rodwell Archibald Godfrey, otherwise known as Rag to us underlings, called me into his office and told me he wants more product. I can’t make it happen if it isn’t out there. All the A-list papers seem to get the stories first. I think this is just another way of saying he is not happy with my work. I applied to the other tabloids, but they’re full up and not taking on anyone new. I’m doing my best. I just manage to make my mortgage payment every month and have enough left over to buy dog food. No, you cannot help me, Mom. I’m going to make it on my own, so let’s not go down that road. My break is coming, I can feel it. By the way, I brought a stack of future issues for you to read. I have stuff in all of them.”
“I can’t get used to the idea that you people make all that stuff up, then it happens. And you print weeks in advance of what’s happening,” Toots said.
Abby laughed. “It’s not quite that way, but you’re close. Well, we’re home, and you have guests. You really know how to throw a funeral, Mom.”
“Event, dear.
Funeral
is such a dreary word. It conjures up all kinds of dismal thinking.”
Abby laughed as she climbed out of the limo and marched up the steps to the wide veranda of her mother’s house.
Both women raced upstairs to change into dry clothing before they had to meet with the guests who would be coming by to pay their last respects.
Toots looked at herself in the long mirror in her room. Yes, she did look bedraggled, but wasn’t a widow supposed to look a little bedraggled? “Black is not my best color,” she muttered to herself as she tossed her mourning outfit into a heap on the floor in the bathroom. She donned another black dress, added a string of pearls, brushed out her hair, sprayed on some perfume, and felt refreshed enough to go downstairs and socialize for an hour or so.
Burying the dead was so time-consuming. Even the aftermath took an eternity. All she wanted to do was retire to her sitting room to read the pile of tabloids Abby had brought with her. Not for the world would Toots ever admit that she was addicted to tabloid gossip. But for now, she had a duty to perform, and perform it she would. She had all evening to read her treasured tabloids and guzzle a little wine while doing so. She’d drink to Leland, and that would be the end of this chapter in her life.
Time to move on. Something she was very good at.