Evening Bags and Executions (21 page)

“These Hollywood people—the ultra-wealthy, celebrities—will do anything for publicity,” Jack said. “Get involved with them and you might find yourself the target of unwanted attention.”

Yikes! I hadn't thought of that.

I considered the whole thing for a minute or two, then shook my head.

“This is real,” I said.

Jack rose from his chair. “Call me when you hear from the kidnapper with the time and location,” he said.

I hoped that meant he'd come with me, but he didn't say so.

Jack left. I sat there thinking, sipping on my mocha Frappuccino.

I'd gotten enough info to handle the ransom money delivery, and Jack had made me think a little harder about the theft itself. But that wasn't what was on my mind.

He'd been completely outraged when I'd mentioned Cody kissing me in the parking lot. Obviously, he hadn't witnessed it, hadn't warned Cody off.

So if Jack hadn't done it, who had?

C
HAPTER
22

“W
hat was the first Beatles album that was issued as a two-record set?” Rigby asked.

I knew this one, sort of.

I sat down at my desk in my office, grabbed the Beatles book I'd bought, and frantically flipped through the pages. I knew I'd read about that album somewhere in this book.

“That was a great album, wasn't it?” I asked, stalling.

I couldn't be sure, but I think she was humming the theme music played during the
Jeopardy!
final round.

I didn't need this stress. Not today.

“One of my favorite albums,” Rigby said. “Do you know the answer?”

“Of course. Everyone knows this one,” I said and—thank God—found the page I was looking for. “It was titled
The Beatles
, but everyone called it
The White Album
.”

“Very good, Haley,” Rigby said.

I collapsed onto my desk.

“I'll talk with you again soon,” she said, and hung up.

I clutched my cell phone in my hand—I didn't dare put it down since I still hadn't heard from Muriel about the ransom—and stared out of my office window at the Galleria across the street. I'd spoken with Muriel several times today, but she had nothing to report. It was midafternoon now, and both of us had frayed nerves.

I might find a gun from somewhere and shoot that kidnapper at the ransom exchange just for making me worry so much.

My cell phone rang. I shot out of my chair and answered it.

“This situation is intolerable.”

Oh my God. It was Mom—which just shows how totally frazzled I was over this ransom thing if I hadn't checked my caller ID screen first.

I sank into my chair again.

“I don't know how much longer I should be expected to go on under these circumstances,” Mom said.

Note—I hadn't even said “hello.”

“The temporary housekeepers the agency is sending simply are not working out,” Mom said. “When am I going to get someone permanent?”

I couldn't tell her over the phone that she'd been blacklisted by all the employment agencies in Los Angeles and that there was little chance she'd ever have a permanent, full-time housekeeper again. I'd have to tell her in person—something I wasn't usually crazy about doing, but right now it was a good excuse to get out of the office.

“I'm coming by to see you,” I said.

“Do you have good news?” she asked.

“I have news,” I told her—which wasn't exactly a lie.

We hung up, I got my things, and I left.

I kept my Bluetooth in my ear as I drove east on the 101 toward Mom's house, ready to dive across five lanes of traffic and cut off every vehicle on the freeway if Muriel called. I still didn't know what, exactly, I'd tell Mom about the whole housekeeper situation. I hoped something would come to me when I got there.

My cell phone rang. Immediately I switched to high-alert mode, then realized it was Amber.

“Sorry I don't have better news for you,” she said.

I hate it when a conversation starts off that way.

“I asked around and found out that Sarah Covington is definitely engaged,” Amber said.

Oh, great. Just what I needed to hear.

I gathered my courage and asked, “To Ty?”

Maybe I should have waited until I pulled off the freeway to ask that question in case she said “yes.”

“I couldn't find out,” Amber said. “Everybody is being really quiet about it.”

Okay, that was weird.

“Maybe it's Ty,” I said, and had a little difficulty actually speaking the words aloud. “Maybe they're keeping it quiet because they work together.”

“I don't think so,” Amber said. “But he's still acting really odd, so I can't be sure what's up with him.”

A scary thought blossomed in my head.

“He's not sick, is he?” I asked.

Personal assistants knew the good, the bad, and the ugly about their bosses—medical conditions, prescriptions, vices, spouse/lover birthday, peculiar eccentricities—and Amber usually handled all those things for Ty. But she'd told me that at times he'd been a bit secretive.

“Sick in the head,” Amber said. “I don't know what's up with him. Now he's got me buying Holt's gift cards. Dozens of them. He's spent a fortune on them.”

“Do you think he's donating them to charity?” I asked.

“Maybe. But donations are usually handled through the corporation,” Amber said. “He's working almost around the clock on acquiring another chain of department stores, so maybe he's not thinking clearly.”

I doubted that. Ty thought in his sleep.

“If I hear anything else I'll let you know,” Amber said.

“Thanks,” I said, and we hung up.

I didn't know what to make of Ty's behavior. Just as well I had Mom to focus on for a while.

I drove to her house. Today's temporary housekeeper, a young woman in a blue uniform, met me at the door. I hadn't figured out exactly what I'd say to Mom about the whole you've-been-blacklisted situation, so I decided to take a run at getting this housekeeper to stay on permanently.

It was worth a try.

“Hi,” I said in my I'm-super-nice voice as I gestured through the house. “I'm Haley, her daughter.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she mumbled.

By the time we'd walked together to the kitchen, she'd looked at her watch three times, no doubt counting down the minutes until she could leave.

I guess my I'm-super-nice voice needs some work.

I found Mom in the family room seated on the chaise dressed in her usual former-beauty-queen's-interpretation-of-loungewear attire of a dress and four-inch heels—both Prada—with her makeup and nails done and her hair styled in an updo.

I could see that she was really feeling the effects of not having a housekeeper because she was actually holding a pen and writing on a tablet herself.

“What are you doing next Saturday?” Mom asked.

“I'm busy all day and evening,” I said.

I had no idea what I was doing next Saturday, but this was safer.

“I'm having a dinner party and I want you to come,” she said, sounding surprisingly happy. “And Ty too, of course.”

I'd never gotten around to telling Mom that Ty and I had broken up.

I never got around to telling Mom a lot of things.

I saw no reason to start now.

“You're having a dinner party?” I asked. “What about the housekeeper situation?”

No way Mom would cook or clean for her own dinner party.

“You've handled that,” she said, smiling brightly. “By next Saturday I'll have had plenty of time to get the new housekeeper into my routine.”

I didn't know which was worse—telling her I still didn't have a housekeeper for her or that Ty and I had broken up.

I took the easy route.

“Well, actually, Mom,” I said. “Ty and I aren't together anymore.”

“What?” She gasped. “You're—what?”

I couldn't bring myself to say the words again, so I just shrugged.

“Oh, Haley, honey, that's terrible,” Mom said.

She got off the chaise and hurried to me, wrapped her arms around me, and gave me a hug.

Wow, that was nice. Maybe I should have told her we'd broken up a long time ago.

She stepped back. “What happened, sweetie?”

“We decided we weren't really right for each other,” I said, thinking it better that I kept it simple before Mom got distracted with her dinner party again.

“Nonsense,” she declared. “You two are perfect for each other.”

“No, not really,” I said.

“Of course you were,” Mom insisted. “Those Cameron men are boring to the bone, every one of them. All they do is work, work, work. They need exciting women like you in their lives.”

Now I kind of wished she'd start talking about her dinner party again. Talking about Ty made my heart hurt.

“I guess Ty didn't feel that way,” I said.

“Did he say he didn't love you?” Mom asked.

Now
she wants to be a concerned mother?

“No, but he never actually said he
did
love me,” I said.

“What's not to love?” Mom asked, waving her carefully manicured hands toward me. “You're pretty, you're smart, you're fun, you're interesting, you're extremely competent and capable.”

Breaking up with Ty was almost worth it to hear my mom say those things.

“He's just being a typical man,” Mom said. “He'll come to his senses.”

I shook my head. “I don't think so, Mom.”

“I've seen you two together,” she said. “I've seen the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. I know love when I see it.”

“It doesn't matter,” I said. “We're done.”

“You know, sometimes it takes losing someone to make you realize how much you care for that person. You see how important they are. You realize that the little things don't matter,” Mom said. “It's normal to disagree over the small things because you already agree on the big, important things.”

Okay, where was my real mom?

Mom gave me another hug. “Now, I want you to check your calendar for next Saturday and my dinner party. And I'll need my new housekeeper to start right away.”

Oh, crap.

I don't know how Mom had taken my simple comment that I needed to talk with her about a housekeeper and spun it into believing I'd found one for her.

Such were the mysterious workings of an ex–beauty queen's mind, I guess.

But I couldn't deal with it right now, not after that conversation about Ty.

So what could I say but, “Sure, Mom. No problem.”

I got in my car and left.

I headed west on the 210 not really thinking much about where I was going. My head was filled with the things Mom had said about relationships.

It was scary to think she might be right about something—especially something as important as this—but I knew she was.

Some people were just right for each other. Some relationships worked without an obvious, apparent reason. Were Ty and I one of those couples? I was sure other people had looked at us and wondered what we saw in each other, why we were together—I'd wondered that myself a time or two.

But maybe there wasn't a reason. Maybe there wasn't anything that could be pointed to with a definite look-that's-it kind of thing. Maybe some relationships were just meant to be.

Maybe that applied to Mom and her housekeeper also.

I cut across three lanes of traffic and headed south on the 2 to Eagle Rock.

 

Much as I didn't want to, I had to go to work at Holt's. I'd blown off my shift last night and I couldn't do it again. I still hadn't heard from Muriel about the ransom exchange, but I kept my cell phone in my pocket so I could blast out of there the minute she called with the instructions.

Bella and I were in the stock room putting looks together for the fashion show—or trying to—sorting through boxes of shoes and accessories.

She pulled a pair of whose-big-idea-were-these canvas turquoise and orange pumps out of a box.

“Damn. This stuff gets scarier and scarier,” Bella said. “I thought doing this show would be cool because I wouldn't have to work on the sales floor. But all the nausea medication I'm needing is costing me a fortune.”

“The best accessories for Holt's clothing are a can of lighter fluid and a pack of matches,” I said, “but I haven't found them in any of the boxes.”

“Keep digging,” Bella told me.

“Haley?” a woman called.

Immediately I recognized the voice of Jeanette, the store manager. I didn't know how I would hold up if she wanted to talk about how great the Holt's clothing line was again.

I kept my back to her and pretended to sort through the necklaces—a move I'd practiced numerous time with customers on the sales floor—but Jeanette wasn't to be put off.

“I need to see you in my office, Haley,” Jeanette said.

Bella and I exchanged a what-now look before I turned to Jeanette. I had no idea why she wanted to see me in her office, but I was pretty sure it wasn't for something that would be good—for me.

“I'm kind of busy right now, Jeanette,” I said.

“This can't wait,” she said, and headed toward the stock room door.

A zillion things flashed in my head.

Had she finally learned that Ty and I had broken up and was now exiling me to the ad-set team on night shift? Cutting my hours—or worse, giving me more hours? Putting me in charge of something—as if this fashion show wasn't punishment enough?

Bella gave me a let-me-know-if-you-need-backup eyebrow bob—as a BFF would—and I followed Jeanette out of the stock room.

We walked down the hallway and she stopped outside of her office.

“Someone is here to see you,” she said, gesturing inside.

My heart jumped.

Was it Ty? Had he come to see me? Was he using something about the store as an excuse to talk to me?

The scenario flashed in my head. Me walking into the office. Ty standing there looking handsome but troubled. His expression stating that, without me, his life is meaningless. Us sharing a long, lingering look. Then both of us rushing together, hugging each other, kissing, saying that we're sorry, that we can't live without each other. Me telling him how Mom had said we were meant for each other—no, wait, I'll leave out the part about Mom, it's kind of a mood killer—me telling him how I missed him and—