Stabbing Stephanie (22 page)

“That's just fine, Mother,” Jane said, casting a glance at Sam, who was doing a terrible job of pretending not to listen. “Who are they?”

Daniel gave her the editors' names.

“All right, Mother, I'll talk to you later.” She hung up.

“Mom okay?” Sam asked.

“Fine.” Jane gave a little giggle. “Two of her favorite stars are on TV this afternoon. She wanted me to know.”

“Ah. And who are they?”

“George Clooney and Benjamin Bratt,” she said, naming two of her own favorites.

“My, Mom's a horny old thing, isn't she?”

“Excuse me,” she said, offended, though her mother had of course been dead for years, “this is my
mother
we're talking about.”

But he just chuckled, shaking his head.

She rose.

“Going to lunch?” he asked.

“No, it's a bit early for lunch. I need some fresh air. I'm feeling a little queasy. Maybe it's the heating system; I'm not sure if it's working properly yet.”

“Or maybe it's me.”

“Maybe,” she said, taking her bag from her bottom drawer. She got her coat from the closet and went out through the reception area.

Outside, in the parking lot behind the building, she called the two editors in turn on her cell phone, answering their questions about Nathaniel Barre and confirming her closing date of December 5. As she was finishing with the second editor, she saw Kate coming toward her from the alley on the right. The young woman's face was troubled, preoccupied. She walked with her hands shoved deep in her pockets, her shoulders hunched.

Jane hurriedly concluded her conversation and stepped into Kate's path.

“Oh!” Kate said, startled, and smiled. It crossed Jane's mind that she really wasn't such a bad-looking girl. “I didn't see you there.”

“I needed some air. It was a little stuffy upstairs. Has the heating system been fixed yet?”

“Yes, days ago,” Kate said, looking puzzled. Then her gaze went to the cell phone in Jane's hand.

Jane looked down and realized she hadn't slipped the phone back into her bag.
Damn
. “I remembered I had to call someone.”

But Kate seemed not to have heard her, or to have lost interest in the cell phone. She looked preoccupied again, and peered intensely into Jane's face. “Lana . . .”

“Yes?”

“Have you noticed anything odd going on in the office lately?”

Have I!
“Why, no, Kate. I'm not sure what you mean?”

“I guess I'm not sure, either.” Kate shrugged, shook her head. “You going up?”

Jane nodded and they went into the building together. On the elevator, Jane thought of something to say to break the awkward silence. “Did you have a nice lunch?”

“To be honest, no,” Kate replied. “I hurried back because Gavin wants to see me in his office at twelve-thirty.”

Jane frowned. “That's an odd time. You'd think he'd have allowed you more time for your lunch.”

She laughed ruefully. “You don't know Gavin. He does that on purpose. It's a control thing.”

“I see. And I don't suppose you could have told him that was an inconvenient time for you.”

“No,” Kate said firmly. “You'd think I could, my mother being a partner in the company and all, but the truth is that Gavin runs the shop, and even my mother does everything he says. If I ever complained about Gavin to her—which I haven't done and won't do—she'd only take his side.”

They arrived at the second floor and went through the reception area into the suite. As Jane hung up her coat, she watched Kate walk to Gavin's office at the other end of the corridor, look into the open doorway, and shrug. Apparently Gavin hadn't honored his own appointment. Kate went into her office, at the end of the corridor on the left.

Sam looked up as Jane settled herself at her desk. “Feel better?”

“Much.”

“You and my sister getting chummy, are you?”

She gave him a disapproving look. He really was extremely impertinent. “We were chatting on the elevator. She's very nice.”

He shook his head in wonder and returned to his work. A few minutes later, Gavin came in from the reception area. After hanging up his coat, he went to Stephanie's doorway and asked to see her in his office. She followed him there. A moment later Kate reappeared in the corridor and knocked on Gavin's door. He asked her to come in; then Jane saw him close the door.

“Wonder what that's all about,” Sam said, twiddling a pen between two fingers, and gazed thoughtfully at Gavin's closed door. “Stranger and stranger.”

Jane wondered, too. It was very quiet in Gavin's office. Suddenly the door banged open and Kate appeared. She was biting her lower lip hard between her teeth, as if to keep from crying, but a tear ran down her cheek as she ran down the corridor to her mother's office. Faith looked up in surprise. “What is it?”

Kate blurted out something, of which Jane could only make out “Gavin” and “Stephanie.”

“I'll speak to him,” Faith told her calmly, and Kate, her face now streaked with tears, ran back down the corridor and rushed into her office.

At almost the exact same moment, Stephanie appeared in Gavin's doorway. Unlike Kate, she looked thoroughly pleased; the word
preening
came to Jane's mind.

To Jane's surprise, Stephanie made her way down the hall and stopped at Jane's desk, her face gleeful. “Guess what.”

“What?” Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Sam watching Stephanie with an expression of disgust.

“Gavin's made me managing editor.”

Sam broke in, “But that's Kate's job.”

Stephanie turned to him, her expression suddenly icy cold. “Not anymore. She's an editor now—and of course she'll continue with her photography.” She spoke the last word with disdain.

Gavin appeared in his doorway. For a moment he just stood there, looking around, as if he were uncomfortable but making an effort to maintain some dignity. He strained his neck upward in his shirt collar, as if it were too tight.

Sam gave a low chuckle. “Our genital manager,” he said softly.

 

 

“Congratulations, Stephanie,” Florence said, handing her a plate containing roast beef, mashed potatoes, and peas. “Mrs. Stuart told me about your promotion.”

“Why, thank you, Florence,” Stephanie said, sounding surprised, as if she would never have expected congratulations from the nanny/housekeeper.

“Yes,” Jane said brightly, though the image of Kate's tear-streaked face was vivid in her mind, “isn't that wonderful? Talk about moving up fast!”

Nick stuffed an entire roll into his mouth and said something unintelligible.

“Nicholas!” Jane said, unable to keep a trace of a smile from her face. “Please do not speak with your mouth full. And how did I teach you to eat a roll?”

Nick chewed hard and seemed to swallow the whole mass at once. “Yeah, yeah, break off little bits.” He turned back to Stephanie. “Are you pulling six figures?”

They all burst out laughing.

“What'd I say?” Nick asked.

Stephanie gave him a sweet smile. “No, Nick, I'm afraid I'm not yet, but maybe someday. You never know!”

“The great thing about it,” Jane said, amazing even herself at her bubbly insincerity, “is that Stephanie will now have more responsibility, more things to do, and that makes her job more interesting.”

“Absolutely,” Stephanie said with gusto, and speared a piece of meat. “Florence, this is heavenly.”

“Thank you.” Florence looked both surprised and pleased.

“It's nice to see you in such a good mood, Stephanie,” Jane said. “Do you still think there may be . . .” Jane cast a quick glance at Nick, “things going on at Carson & Hart?”

Stephanie looked at him, too, frowning a little at Jane's having brought this up. Turning to Jane, she gave a tiny shake of her head that said she didn't want to discuss this now. But she said, “I feel better about things, but I still feel something's going on. But I may be on the verge of uncovering it myself.”

“Uncovering what?” Nick asked.

“Never mind,” Jane said, reproaching herself for her indiscretion.

Stephanie said to Jane, “Just a little longer . . .” and Jane knew she was reiterating her plea for Jane to continue working undercover.

“All right,” she said, though she'd had about as much of Carson & Hart as she could stand.

With a silent leap, Winky appeared in the center of the table.

“Hey, Wink!” Nick cried in delight, and tossed her a piece of roast beef from his plate. Winky tore into it with gusto.

Florence, Jane, and Stephanie watched in horror.

“Nicholas!” Jane cried, standing, and shooed Winky off the table.

Stephanie threw back her head and laughed. “You know, seeing Twinky eating like that reminds me of something awful I saw today. I was in the alley beside our building, and I noticed something moving at the foot of the Dumpster. I thought it was a possum, but when I got closer, I saw that it was a big rat! Isn't that awful?”

“A rat—in Shady Hills?” Jane said.

“Sure was. When I realized what it was, I jumped back, and who should I bump into but that horrible bum, Ivar.”

“Ivor,” Jane corrected.

“And my cat's name is Winky,” Nick said, “not Twinky.”

Stephanie ignored both of them.
“Well,
after my little episode the other night, bumping into this creature nearly gave me a heart attack. I mean, I didn't know which was worse—the rat or this despicably filthy man. He smelled like a brewery, not to mention his body odor. I'm certain he would have reached for my handbag if I hadn't run away.”

“Stephanie,” Nick said, now leaning forward in an obvious attempt not to be ignored again. She looked at him, her face blank. “Hasn't anyone ever taught you that it's wrong to judge people by how they look or how they smell?”

Stephanie's jaw dropped slightly. She continued to stare at him.

He went on, “Those things are
surface
things. They have nothing to do with what a person is like inside. Do you really think that because he drinks and smells, he would have stolen your pocketbook?”

Stephanie drew a deep breath, her expression earnest as if framing a response during a serious interview. “He did come up behind me.”

“How do you know you didn't just back into him?”

Jane, looking at Nick as he waited for a response, fairly burst with pride. So would Kenneth have done, if he were only there.

But Nick never got a reply. Stephanie glared at him a moment longer, impatiently puffed air out her nostrils, and returned her attention to her meal.

Nick wouldn't let it go, however. “And I don't appreciate your calling my cat a rat.”

“I didn't call him a rat,” Stephanie protested.

“Her.
Winky is a girl. You said she reminded you of a rat.” He suddenly pointed the tines of his fork at her. “You are a very rude person.”

“Nicholas!” Jane and Florence said in unison.

He shrugged uncaringly and put down his fork. “I'm done. May I please be excused?”

“Yes,” Jane said softly, and looked down, unable to meet Stephanie's gaze. But she realized she must, and turned to her. She was surprised to see that there were tears in Stephanie's eyes. “I'm sorry, Stephanie. He's only ten, of course, and sometimes he gets this way. I often wonder if it's because he has no father, whether I ought to get him some counseling. I'll speak to him, get him to apologize to you.”

“That's not necessary.” Stephanie pushed a pea around her plate, her face tilted down and a little to the side. “He's right. It was rude of me. I do and say things like that a lot; I know I do. Like what I said about Daniel in the car after I first got to town. I don't
mean
them the way they come out, but I can't help it. I . . . I don't know what's wrong with me. I sometimes think I'm just not a very nice person, but I don't know what to do about it.”

She could start, Jane thought, by not having affairs with the husbands of her best friends. But of course she didn't say this. She just smiled sympathetically.

“I'll start clearing,” Florence said briskly, rising, and with a polite smile she reached for Stephanie's plate. “And I'll get us some coffee.”

“Not for me, thanks, Florence,” Stephanie said, also rising, and walked quickly out of the dining room.

“Ditto,” Jane said, and went to find Nick.

He was in his room, cross-legged on his bed, reading a video-game magazine. He didn't look up as she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

“I know what you're going to say,” he said in a weary voice. “I shouldn't say things like that to people.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed. “If you know,” she said gently, “why did you?”

He met her gaze, his eyes fierce with outrage. “Mom, I was starting to like Stephanie, but now I see she's a terrible person. Can't you see that? Why is she here? Why doesn't she leave?”

“It's not for us to judge her,” Jane said, feeling a complete hypocrite, because she found herself judging Stephanie constantly. “All that's important is that she's Daddy's cousin. She's part of our family, and she needs our help. Family helps family.”

He just shrugged, looked down at his magazine.