The Bracelet (6 page)

 

C
HAPTER
O
NE

New Year's Eve

T
he offer seemed almost too good to be true.

Round-trip airfare to Los Angeles and an all-expenses-paid stay at one of the most luxurious spas in the country. But there
was
a catch: Piper Donovan had to make another wedding cake.

Distracted from selecting her ensemble for the party she was going to that night, Piper pushed aside the dresses, skirts, and tops strewn all over her bed. She lay down on the soft comforter, crossed her long, thin legs and scrolled her BlackBerry to where she could reread the Facebook message.

SAW THE CAKE YOU MADE FOR GLENNA BROOKS. WOULD LOVE IT IF YOU WOULD DO ONE FOR MY WEDDING ON JANUARY 15. WE'LL PAY FOR YOUR PLANE TICKET, PUT YOU UP FOR THE WEEK AT ELYSIUM, PROVIDE YOU WITH A CAR AND DRIVER, AND, OF COURSE, PAY FOR THE CAKE. LET ME KNOW ASAP IF YOU ARE INTERESTED!

Jillian Abernathy. The name was vaguely familiar.

Piper studied the photo that accompanied the message. An attractive young couple beamed from the screen. The woman was pretty and blond, and she had a dazzling white smile. The handsome man, with his arm around her, had dark hair, and his teeth were even more blinding. Clicking on the picture led to Jillian Abernathy's Facebook profile. Her info page revealed that Jillian was engaged to Ben Dixon, M.D., and that she worked as the director of the Elysium Spa.

Piper wondered where Jillian had first seen the three-tiered, star-festooned cake she'd designed for soap-opera star Glenna Brooks. There were photos of it all over the Internet, and it was featured in the current issues of
People, Soap Opera Weekly,
and the
National Enquirer
, along with other pictures from the wedding and accompanying text explaining the disasters that had befallen co-workers of the bride and groom in the weeks leading up to the ceremony. Piper had posted pictures of her creation on her own Facebook fan page, and the response had been overwhelming. She was proud of her first wedding cake and stunned by the attention it had been receiving since the Christmas Eve nuptials. She hadn't expected to be making another so quickly—or all by herself. She'd had her mother as a safety net while she worked on Glenna's cake.

Piper was dying to tell her mother, but Terri Donovan was still at the bakery and wouldn't be home for a few hours. Piper stared at the freshly painted, cloyingly pink walls of her room in her parents' house and considered the offer. She'd been living home again for just a month, yet the idea of getting away for a while was appealing. She loved her parents—she did—but there was something wrong about being twenty-seven years old and having to answer to them. Piper knew that Terri and Vin Donovan were making a concerted effort not to smother her, but they were failing miserably. It was inevitable: Piper was their only daughter, their baby, and they still found her every move fascinating. They paid attention to everything she did—or at least everything they
knew
she did.

“Hey, Emmett! Drop that! Drop that right now!” Piper yelled, jumping up from the bed and lunging for the Jack Russell terrier. The little dog had the toe of one of Piper's high-heeled pumps grasped firmly in his mouth. He looked at her, dropped the shoe, and ran from the room.

She picked up the black pump and inspected it. There were tooth marks in the leather, but there was no actual tearing. Maybe her father could figure out a way to smooth away the indentations. He could fix pretty much anything.

Piper thought more about accepting the job. Even though she'd have to design and make the wedding cake, she would still have some free time. Maybe her agent, Gabe Leonard, could get her an audition or two while she was out there. Weather-wise, Southern California was decidedly better than New Jersey in January. And the idea of some free beauty treatments was definitely alluring.

Who wouldn't want to spend a week at Elysium?
Piper had read about the oasis perched in the Hollywood Hills. She even knew a few people who had checked in there for some high-priced pampering. She'd listened as seldom-impressed New Yorkers used adjectives like “divine” and “heaven” to describe it. Apparently the staff went through Swiss Guard–like training to learn how to cater to each client's well-being.

Going online, Piper read more. Besides the usual massages, facials, body wraps, yoga, Pilates, meditation sessions, saunas, and hot-tub soaks, Elysium offered individualized consultations with dietitians, along with organic, vegetarian, and vegan dining. It also boasted personal touches like spritzing clients with Evian as they lounged by an infinity pool that offered an aerial view of Los Angeles. All these amenities had guests leaving relaxed, rejuvenated, and feeling that every penny they'd spent had been worth it.

Elysium also provided its clients the most luxurious thing in the world—privacy. For good reason: The owner of Elysium was a renowned cosmetic surgeon. Along with the sprawling Spanish Mission–style main building that housed most of the guests in private rooms, there were individual cottages scattered in a more secluded section of the property. Actors, politicians, and other celebrities, both male and female—as well as those who could afford it and wanted no one to know they were being “freshened up”—arrived, had their surgery, and recuperated in utmost secrecy.

Piper exited Elysium's Web site, picked up the damaged shoe, and headed downstairs. When she reached the basement of the split-level she had grown up in, Piper found her father ensconced in his man cave, surrounded by his beloved workbench, tools, and “survivor” paraphernalia. He was watching a football game on the little television set he kept down there. She handed him the shoe for his inspection.

“It's Emmett or me!” said Piper, offering the fake ultimatum for the umpteenth time.

“That dog is a devil,” said Vin, shaking his head and trying to keep the smile from his face. Her father acted tough, but Piper and her mother knew he was a sucker for the dog. He got a kick out of the mischievous things the terrier did.

Piper sank into an old couch that had found its way into the basement when a new one had taken its place in the living room. She watched as her father worked on the shoe.

“Guess what?” she asked.

“What?” Vin was busy rubbing the black leather with a soft cloth.

“Somebody wants me to make another wedding cake.” Piper looked at her father for his reaction.

“Oh, yeah?” His eyes remained trained on the toe of the pump.

“The bride saw the cake I made for Glenna and was really into it, so she wants to hire me to make hers.” Piper pulled a long blond hair from the shoulder of her sweater.

“That's nice, lovey.” Vin turned the shoe and began working on it from another angle.

“She'll pay for me to go out to California.”

Vin lowered the shoe and turned to look at his daughter. “You're kidding me.”

Piper nodded, her green eyes sparkling. “Not bad, huh?”

“What are you going to say?” asked Vin. “Do you want to do it?”

Piper shrugged. “Yeah, I think I do. I mean, I don't have anything going on here right now. And with a little luck, my agent might be able to send me on some go-sees while I'm there. You know there are, like, four or five acting jobs out there for every one in New York.”

“And where would you stay?” asked Vin.

“That's the best part,” said Piper. “The bride is the director of Elysium, which is this legendary Hollywood spa. I can stay there all week. I'll have to check, but I assume I'll be able to use their kitchen.”

Vin's eyes narrowed. “I know about Elysium.”

“You do?” asked Piper.

Vin handed the shoe to his daughter. All traces of Emmett's bite had been erased.

“Yes,” said Vin. “And I think I know about your bride, too.”

“Jillian Abernathy? How would you know about her?”

“Because I watch the news, Piper,” said Vin, in a tone that made it clear that he thought Piper should, too. “Jillian Abernathy is one lucky gal. She wasn't home when some nutjob showed up at her front door. The poor cleaning woman answered the bell and got a cupful of acid, smack in the face.”

 

C
HAPTER
T
WO

J
illian Abernathy braced herself, as she always did, before entering Cottage 7. She'd been tempted to skip today's visit. She still had to stop at the market for something to grill, and she also wanted to pick up a bottle of champagne. She and Ben were going to stay in and spend a quiet evening together.

She had no desire to go to some noisy party or club. The last thing she wanted was to mingle with a New Year's Eve crowd. Not only because she didn't think it was appropriate to be out celebrating, but because she was scared that somebody could get close and hurt her.

In the months since the acid attack on Esperanza, Jillian had been afraid to go to work each morning, in spite of the security service her father had hired to keep watch outside her home. She found herself constantly checking to make sure that the doors and windows were locked. Sudden noises made her jump. Though Jillian hadn't been the one harmed, the police seemed certain that the attack had been meant for her. The thought left her terrified.

The assault had changed everything. The wedding had been postponed. It just didn't seem right to go on with it until things settled down. Esperanza was suffering so much pain, physically and emotionally. It was best to concentrate on restoring her to health.

After Esperanza's stay in the hospital and the preliminary surgeries, Jillian's father had insisted that she recuperate in one of the private cottages at Elysium. He was also doing further cosmetic surgeries to repair her face, at no charge. If there was anything to be grateful for, it was that while the acid had burned the bottom half of Esperanza's face, it had missed her eyes.

The media attention had been suffocating. The story of the acid attack was sensational enough on its own, but the fact that the disfigured cleaning woman worked for the daughter of the wealthy Abernathy family, owners of the famed Elysium, temple to beauty, added irony and extra fascination to the news coverage. Jillian had lived in a constant state of tension, never knowing when a reporter was going to accost her or a camera crew was going to be staked outside her house. Many nights she stayed in a cottage at Elysium, where she could have more privacy and feel more protected.

It hadn't been until Christmas Day, as her gift to Ben, that Jillian finally agreed to go ahead with the wedding, as long as it could be done quickly and on a much smaller scale than the celebration they'd originally planned. The guest list was being cut dramatically. Instead of a cathedral wedding ceremony and a reception at the opulent Beverly Hills Hotel, Jillian wanted all of it to happen on the grounds of Elysium, where everything could be controlled by their own trusted staff.

As she approached the front door of the terra-cotta-roofed cottage, Jillian could hear the television playing inside. A gauzy curtain fluttered through a slightly open window. She peeked in and saw Esperanza engrossed in the show on the screen, sitting with her back to the window. Esperanza's shoulders moved jerkily up and down, and Jillian realized she was actually laughing, or her version of it. Laughing silently, not moving her mouth or her facial muscles.

Jillian stepped away from the window and knocked on the cottage door.

“Who is it?” called Esperanza from inside. The words were not distinctly pronounced.

“It's me. Jillian.” She arranged her face in a smile and girded herself for what she would see. The door opened.

“Hello, miss.”

Esperanza was wearing a peach-colored smock. Her hair was long and dark, with only the last vestige of yellow at the ends. The bottom of her face was covered with a clear plastic mask, modeled expressly for her and fitting directly against her ravaged skin. The mask applied direct pressure over the wounds to help prevent the buildup of collagen fibers that could scar and to protect the skin from any forces that could impair the healing process. Jillian knew that the face covering provided a barrier from germs and irritants and allowed visual inspection without having to be removed. So, all in all, the mask was a very good thing. Still, it always reminded Jillian of something a thief or a rapist or a home invader might wear to grotesquely distort his facial features. She shivered every time she saw it.

“How are you feeling today, Esperanza?” asked Jillian as she walked inside the cottage.

Esperanza picked up the remote, pointed it at the television, and turned down the sound. She gestured to her face as she settled into her chair. “I felt pretty good this morning, but now it's hurting again.”

Jillian nodded as she took a seat on the sofa. “In the morning you're rested and have more energy. Later in the day, your body is tired and things bother you more. Do you want me to call and have them bring you something for the pain?”

Esperanza gently shook her head. “No thank you, miss. I'll wait until it's time for my sleeping medicine.”

“Good for you,” said Jillian. She leaned forward and patted the woman's knee. “I know you don't want to get too dependent on the pain medication, Esperanza. I admire you for that, but drugs are there to help. You don't have to worry. Our doctor is very careful about monitoring how much is available to you.”

Jillian noticed that Esperanza was wearing the gold bangle bracelet Jillian had given her for Christmas. She also noticed that Esperanza's nails were freshly manicured and painted with cheerful red polish—the hands of a woman who no longer did housework for a living. Esperanza looked down and fiddled with the corner of her smock.

“What's the matter?” asked Jillian. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, miss. Everyone is so nice to me. They work so hard to help me and make sure I am comfortable. Tonight they are bringing me a special dinner for New Year's Eve.” Esperanza's eyes smiled above the plastic mask.

“We have a lot to celebrate this year,” said Jillian. “You've been healing so well. My father thinks he's going to be able to discharge you in a week or so. Isn't that wonderful, Esperanza? Soon you'll be able to go home to your own place.”

Esperanza watched through the window until Jillian was out of sight. Then she went to the bedroom, climbed into the queen-size bed, and snuggled beneath the light down coverlet and freshly laundered white sheets.

She was torn. Of course she was glad that her healing was progressing and that Dr. Abernathy was confident that repeated procedures would continue to improve her appearance. But she didn't want to leave Elysium. She didn't want to go home.

Not ever.

After living in the luxury of Elysium, where the staff catered to her every desire, how could she return to the seedy and suffocating one-bedroom apartment she used to share with three other women? Actually, she couldn't go back there even if she wanted to return. She had given up her spot, and someone else had taken her place.

Esperanza wiggled her toes and felt the softness of the bed linens. She closed her eyes and began to concentrate on her breathing as the yoga teacher who came to the cottage for private lessons had taught her to do in order to relax. As she inhaled, a light scent of lavender filled her nostrils.

She loved it here.

Maybe if she told them that she was having flashbacks and was afraid for her life, they would see she was traumatized and let her stay longer. Esperanza hadn't told anyone that she was remembering something she saw when she opened the door and the acid was flung in her face. But she didn't want to answer any more questions from the police. Things had finally quieted down, and she didn't want to stir it all up again.

Most of all Esperanza was terrified that if threatened with identification, whoever had attacked and scarred her would find her and finish the job. Yet with what she now remembered, she realized that she might not really be safe at Elysium after all.