Off Season (39 page)

Jill was stunned. “But he got rid of Lizette. Surely this charge is more controversial than doing drugs.”

The one thing Jill had not expected was for Addie to
laugh out loud. “I thought by now you’d have grown up, Jill. I thought by now you’d have realized that television is not about talent. And it’s certainly not about morals. It’s about one thing, and one thing only:
ratings
. The fact is, your reunion with Christopher will bring in huge numbers in the February book. A little scandal? Well, Maurice is willing to take the chance.”

“This isn’t so little, Addie. A child is involved.”

Addie turned to Ben. “Did you do it?”

“Of course not,” he replied.

“Then pay her off.”

“We can’t. We won’t.”

She sighed. “Well, if it’s money you need, you’ve got it.” She turned back to Jill. “How much did it cost you to get out of our contract?”

Jill blinked, but did not look at Ben, because she’d never told him the full amount. “Over four hundred thousand,” she said.

Ben’s gasp was gratefully small.

“Well, that was three years ago, and it’s worth nearly six now. You were my family, Jill. When you left, I was angry. I wanted to make you hurt. So I took your money. But I invested it for you. Because I always hoped someday you’d come back.”

The whistle on the teakettle blew. Jill looked at Ben, and Addie stood up. “Forget the tea,” she said. “The money is yours to pay off that woman. If you don’t want to do it, then I suggest you use a chunk of it to rehire Herb Bartlett. Either way,
any
way, it’s yours. Think about it. In the meantime, I’ll be at the Charlotte Inn. Herb is still there, but we’re leaving tomorrow at noon. With or without you, there’s a show that will go on.”

She moved into the hall, swept on her cape, and departed as quickly as she had come.

•   •   •

“My God, Jill, I had no idea she took you for so much money.”

“It looks like she didn’t. This is incredible.”

They had moved back into the kitchen; she again made tea, because tea could fix everything, including shock and disbelief.

“She’s not even using it as leverage to get you to reconsider doing the show.”

At first it surprised Jill that Ben thought Addie would be so ruthless. Then again, what else should he think? All Jill had ever done was tell Ben what an ogre she was, a horrible, pushy woman. She’d never once told him how Addie had taken a chance on Jill, how she’d groomed her and paraded her and made sure she was the best she could be, network quality, just as Jill once wanted.

But, no, Ben’s opinion of Addie Becker had been formed around the words
witch
and
bitch
, which hadn’t been fair.

“Three years ago,” Jill said, “I was so angry at her. She was only concerned about what she was losing. She wasn’t excited for me that at last I’d found peace and love.”

Ben sipped his tea; he made no comment.

“If I take the money, I’d feel like I have to go through with the show.”

Ben smiled. “Maybe she’s counting on that.”

“Would it be so bad?” she asked. “Would you feel as if I were deserting you at your neediest hour?”

“That depends. You’d be gone for Valentine’s Day. Are you going to let Mr. Celebrity buy you dinner that night?”

“Not if you send me roses,” she said. “Big fat red ones. Three dozen.”

“Three dozen?” He whistled. “Looks like you really need to get that money back.”

She laughed, marveling at the way Ben could find
lightness in a tense situation. It had been a long time since she’d felt that; it was almost as if the rush of new love was returning.

“If it’s all the same to you, I don’t want to pay off Fern Ashenbach,” she said. “I’d rather use it for Herb Bartlett.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that. Besides, we may need him even more if Rita’s changed sides.”

It was something Jill did not want to consider. And yet it was nearly dark now, and Rita still hadn’t phoned.

“The bottom line is,” he interrupted her thoughts, “it’s your money. Your choice.”

“No, Ben, it’s
our
choice. Just as the decision to go on
Good Night, USA
should have been our choice. I’m still not very good at this business of sharing. I had to make so many decisions alone, struggling as a single mother for so many years.”

He leaned forward on his stool and looked into her eyes. “Take your time,” he said. “I’ve got the rest of my life.”

Fern Ashenbach looked like she needed a break, or so Rita told her after brunch, when Hazel was in the other room showing Mindy how to knit booties and Charlie had walked down to the tavern to check on the heating system because the Vineyard was being attacked by an unusual deep freeze. And because Amy was still in England.

Rita had handed Fern a dish from the dishpan and hoped she’d finished whining about how cold it had become, and that it was much warmer in the islands where she usually was this time of year.

“I just had an idea,” Rita said, which was a lie, because she’d had it yesterday, and it was the reason she’d invited Fern and Mindy there today.

“Charlie has signed the papers for your house, so now there’s that infernal waiting period for inspections and title searches and all that. Why don’t you use the time to take off for the islands? Go see your friends. Have a little fun.”

Fern wiped the dish with the terry towel hand-painted with ducks. “I can’t leave right now. Too much to do.”

“That’s just it!” Rita said. “There’s nothing for you to do. It’s only red tape now. Red tape and a few weeks. Six to eight, as a rule.”

“Six to eight?” Fern groaned and took another dish. “God, the Caribbean season will practically be over by then.”

She said “Caribbean” with the emphasis on “Car-ib-
be
-an,” not on “Ca-rib-e-an” like people with class. Rita scrubbed the eggs Benedict pan. “Exactly,” she said. “So take advantage of it now.”

With thoughtful precision, Fern wiped the plate, making small circles on the front, then on the back, her blue neon fingernails flicking, making this domestic chore seem tedious for a queen such as her.

“Well, it’s a good idea, but I can’t. There’s so much crap in that house, it’ll take me a year to clean it out, let alone six to eight weeks.”

Rita did not say that it did not matter, because Charlie had not bought the house, but had signed dummy papers in order to string Fern along and create a reason for them to become friends. Rita could not tell the truth so instead she said, “Oh, God, Fern, no one cleans out houses anymore. They have people who do that. They hold estate sales to sell what you don’t want, then they take a cut and you’re rid of all the headaches. Besides, it’s probably a bunch of musty old junk. How long did old Ashenbach live there?”

Fern laughed. “A hundred years? Who knows. I think there’s a cellar, but I’ve never been down in it.”

“Yuck,” Rita said, snapping off her rubber gloves and draping them over the faucet. “I know a million people who can help out with this stuff. You can take off for a couple of weeks, then I’ll call one when you get back. It’s perfect.”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. I’ve got a kid in the other room who no longer has a grandfather to stay with.” She laughed. “And believe me, if I go to the islands, one thing I don’t need is a kid tagging along.”

Rita hated that Fern acted as if Mindy were an obstacle in her life. For all the craziness in which Hazel had raised Rita, Rita had never once felt unloved. Which could be why she’d never had to make up stories to get attention.

She dried her hands and did not dare ask Fern what she intended to do with the “kid” once the house was sold and the trial was over. “Well, I could use some help around here,” Rita said softly.

It took Fern a minute, but finally she got it. “What?”

Rita shrugged. “I’m almost seven months pregnant and fatter than a cow. There are things to do around here that I can’t manage myself. My mother’s too old, and Charlie is a man. Need I say more?” She plunked a bowl of leftover blueberries into the refrigerator.

“Doing what?” Fern asked. “Like laundry and dusting?”

“Sure.” She tried to act not overly pushy, as if she could take or leave Mindy.

“For a couple of weeks?”

“As long as you like. I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem for her to take the school bus from here. We’re a little cramped, but Charlie could fix up the den for her bedroom.” Which, on account of the twins coming, meant Charlie would have to move into her room.

“Well, hell, honey,” Fern said, tossing the dish towel down on the table, “you might just have yourself a deal.”
She whooped. “Aruba here I come!” She headed into the living room. “Melinda!” she shrieked. “How would you like to stay with these nice people a spell?”

Rita leaned against the sink, folded her arms, and wondered what Charlie Rollins was going to think about sleeping in her bed.

Ben had kissed Jill good-bye and sent her off to New York with confidence that she would return—to what he did not know, but she would return, nonetheless.

In the meantime, he got on with his life.

On the first Tuesday of February, he awoke before dawn and headed to the town hall to stand in line for one of the two building permits that they needed for Sea Grove.

If he got one permit now, and one in March, they would be ready to start building about the time the spring thaw was ready to let them.

He had not heard from Rita, nor spoken with Charlie. But Jill advised him to forget it, to trust that both of them knew what they were doing and would reemerge when they were ready. She had also reminded him that at least Charlie and Rita were finally together, as if that excused it all.

Which was partly why Ben trudged through the early morning now, so that Rita and Charlie wouldn’t have to be bothered.

He was also trying to keep himself busy, to stay positive, focused on the future, as if there were no chance
he’d be seeing the future from behind bars. April, of course, was only weeks away now.

As Ben turned down the next street, he could see that the line at the town hall had already formed, like a line at a convenience store when the Megabucks jackpot reached heady heights. He sighed, glad he had all his paperwork in order, hoping he’d be lucky enough to receive one of the coveted permits on this crisp February morning.

He stepped into line behind a tall, wide-shouldered man he recognized from town meetings but whose name he couldn’t recall. The man turned around.

“Morning,” he said, his chilly breath crystallizing in the air.

“Morning,” Ben responded.

The man turned back and faced the building, his New England salutation over and done. Ben leaned back on his heels and glanced at his watch. In only minutes, a few others had lined up behind him.

They stood and waited. Every so often someone greeted someone else; every so often a few words were exchanged. But all were there on business—this was not a social event.

Dawn arrived slowly, and a great tiredness seemed to crawl through the crowd. One after another, they sat down on blankets that they’d spread on the ground. When the big man in front of Ben sat down, Ben idly scanned the line up ahead.

Then he did a double-take, not once but twice.

He squinted; he blinked.

Half a dozen people in front of him, wrapped in a plaid wool blanket, was a red-headed woman who looked very pregnant. Next to her was Charlie. And standing between them, laughing and smiling, holding a tube in which were undoubtedly the building plans for Sea Grove—the plans he’d drawn up—was Mindy Ashenbach.

•   •   •

Ben didn’t get the permit. He didn’t stick around long enough.

Instead, he steamed all the way home, muttering obscenities about trust and friendship and wasn’t it nice that Rita and Charlie had taken Ben’s accuser into their fold.

His accuser: A ten-year-old, obviously highly manipulative
little girl
.

Had Mindy convinced Rita and Charlie that he’d touched her breast, the way she’d convinced her grandfather and police and the court?

Storming into the house, he slammed the door behind him and let out a scream that could have been heard up in Boston if the wind had been coming up off Nantucket. Then he stomped down the hall to the phone, picked up the receiver, and placed a call to the Plaza to
Ms
. Niles’s suite.

“I know, honey, I woke you. I’m sorry.” He paced as far as he could until the phone cord pulled him back. Then he paced in the other direction, into the kitchen and back again.

“That’s okay,” Jill mumbled. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. No one, anyway. Everyone’s fine. Except for me.” He told her of the trio he’d just seen at the town hall. “I’m furious, Jill. What the hell’s going on? What are they trying to do—put me away for life?”

“Ben, honey, calm down. Rita and Charlie can’t put you away for life.”

“That’s not how it feels.”

“Well, think about it. Intellectually.”

“I can’t. I’m too pissed.”

“I’d offer to call Rita, but I think it would be a mistake.” Her voice was clearer now, as if she were fully awake.