Текст книги "A black tie affair"
Автор книги: Sherrill Bodine
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
She thrust her chin so high, her neck ached. “Your global escapades with your cousins don’t make you an expert on vintage couture. I am one. And I’ve never been overcome before, or found any garment remotely toxic. Obviously, I was overcome by some toxic matter you Clayworths are hoarding in your store’s top-secret closet!”
“I’ll be able to confirm Dr. Stemmer’s diagnosis when he examines the gowns.”
“And just when will that be happening, so I can offer my expert opinion?”
He calmly glanced at his gold Rolex. “In approximately an hour the gowns will be delivered to his lab here. I’ll be back afterward. Rest now like the doctor ordered.”
Since she’d woken up in this hospital bed, her whole world felt out of rhythm, with her two beats behind. Only when Drew turned to leave the room did she think of more comebacks for his smug confidence about the dresses.
But could they be right?
Again, the memory hovered just out of reach.
She looked up to see her sisters peeking through the open door. “Swear to me you won’t e-mail or phone Dad about this,” Athena called out, suddenly afraid the Fates, Drew, truth serum, and her father were more than she could deal with at the moment.
“We swear, but we need to leave now. The doctor wants you to rest,” Diana called softly.
“We’ll be back in a few hours with your favorite Leonidas chocolate,” Venus promised and blew a kiss.
At the precise moment of blowing a kiss back to her sisters, the nagging memory she couldn’t quite grasp earlier leaped out and hit her over her head.
She’d stood in a hospital doorway blowing a kiss to T. A. Long, her favorite costume curator in the whole world, when he was in the hospital with a strange ailment after doing a thorough examination of a black Dior evening dress.
No, it can’t be the same illness. T. A. was so much sicker.
Groaning, she shut her eyes, trying to figure out if the two incidents could truly be related.
T. A.’s illness had been caused by fumes from degrading plastic that designers sprayed on the netting under dresses decades ago. Could the boning in the much older Bertha Palmer dresses be degrading and have a similar effect?
Tears burned in her eyes, and she quickly brushed them away. She didn’t want the Bertha Palmer gowns to be found guilty of poisoning her. She wanted them placed in the museum, where they belonged. They were tangible pieces of Chicago history for future generations to enjoy and learn from. They were the centerpiece of the exhibit that would generate enough money to cement the scholarship in her mother’s honor and start Makayla on the road to a great future. If only Athena’s dad hadn’t dropped the ball because of the Clayworth mess, it would all be in place and none of this would have happened.
But it had happened, and she had to fix it.
Despite Drew Clayworth, who had the distinction of being her first really big mistake.
On the way to Lewis Stemmer’s office, Drew couldn’t help laughing to himself. Prim and proper Athena Smith had challenged him about knowing his way up a woman’s skirt. And told him what she thought of him.
Why didn’t I do the same instead of kissing her?
Did she remember it? Had it brought back any old memories for her, like it had for him?
He needed to know what game she was playing this time. Her eyes had always given her away. That’s how he’d known what she’d done to him.
She didn’t need those damn glasses, the same large, pale-smoke-tinted lenses, the kind shaded at the top so they’re clear over the cheeks, she’d been wearing in all the newspaper pictures he’d seen of her in the last few months.
She was hiding behind them, just as Rebecca’s columns hinted. Hiding her feelings about the loss of her father’s spotless reputation.
The latter at the hands of his family.
Tension tightened like a vise around his neck and shoulders. He shrugged, trying to relax. He never second-guessed himself. He felt as sure of his decision about Alistair as he did Lewis Stemmer’s medical diagnosis of Athena’s illness.
Drew stopped in the glass walkway between the hospital and Lewis’s office. Below on Superior Street, Venus and Diana were getting into a cab.
If Drew believed in fate, Athena’s reappearance in his life would be some kind of omen. She’d been there on the cold, snowy night he first vowed to win the yacht race that ultimately killed his parents. And here she appeared again on the eve of his finally fulfilling his promise to himself to race in the Fastnet.
The memory of the first Christmas after his parents died rubbed painfully against his hard protective shell. He’d let her in that night, and the aftermath had changed him.
He strolled slowly, giving himself a few more minutes to stop thinking about their past. At the moment he couldn’t avoid Athena, and it had nothing to do with their fate being written in the stars like she had once told him, lying on the sand at the Clayworth beach, regaling him with the myths her father had woven for her. Then he’d been totally taken in, no doubt from teenage testosterone. He’d learned a long time ago the only thing in the heavens were the constellations that guided lost sailors at sea.
He’d confirm Lewis’s diagnosis and make sure she got what she needed to get well. Clayworth’s would assume all responsibility. That would be the end of it.
Decision made, he glanced at his watch and took the stairs so he wouldn’t be late for the appointment with Bertha’s gowns.
Connor stood waiting for him. He’d seen this look before on his face. Poised, armed, ready to do battle.
“What the hell is wrong now?” he demanded, striding in and shutting the door.
Then he saw Lewis standing over Bridget, who looked small, huddled in a chair. Ed Mahoney, Clayworth’s top insurance specialist, sat beside her.
Again that edge of dread sliced through him. “Bridget, what are you doing here? You should be at home resting.”
“No, I had to tell you myself.” Her green eyes looked flat and dull, very different than yesterday. “Drew, the Bertha Palmer gowns are gone. All four of them. Someone’s broken into the Secret Closet.”
CHAPTER
Bridget swayed in her chair. A rush of adrenaline drove Drew toward her.
Lewis got there first and lifted her wrist in his long fingers.
She shook him off, casting them all the warning glance Drew remembered seeing a hundred times growing up. She hated any mollycoddling, as she called it.
“I’m not looney like I was yesterday. I know this is my fault. I was so worried about Athena I don’t remember whether or not I set the code on the closet’s small door. Then with all of us tramplin’ through the place today, we probably destroyed any evidence there might have been.”
Lewis nodded. “I can’t tell you this isn’t a problem. If I’m right, those dresses need to be found before anyone else becomes infected.”
“We will, Lewis. I promise.” Anger that someone would violate the Secret Closet made his voice cold. “We’re all concerned about the danger to others.”
“That’s the problem, Drew. I’m not sure of the extent of the danger until I study the toxin. So far, exposure hasn’t been life-threatening. But that could change. That threat is what we must contain. I’ll notify the proper authorities and keep you informed.”
They all stared at one another in silence long after Lewis left the room. They all knew Clayworth’s reputation was at stake at a time when they were vulnerable.
Ed, short, bulky, and ruddy cheeked, cleared his throat like he always did before presenting them with the store’s latest insurance crisis. “Until the gowns are recovered—and I’m confident they’ll be found—I know you want the insurance settled. I took the liberty of bringing the necessary paperwork for the board members to sign.” He laid out what looked like reams of forms.
Another kick of déjà vu. Ed looking and sounding like this on the day after Drew’s parents’ funeral. Sitting in Henry’s three-story library in the main house of the Clayworth compound, there had been a different feel in the room. Today the family looked coiled tight, ready to take action. Then they’d been melancholy while Ed explained the huge insurance policy and Uncle Henry talked about the seventeen percent of John Clayworth and Company Drew now owned.
At nineteen he’d damned the facts and figures. Hadn’t cared about the family fortune. His parents were gone. A future without them had looked long and lonely. Until Henry clasped his shoulder and Marilyn, his uncle’s newest wife, gathered Drew against her ample Chanel-clad bosom, declaring they would be his new family.
He glanced around at Connor, signing papers with one hand and patting Bridget’s shoulder with the other.
They’d all been there for him. The only family he had left.
Connor turned away to read a form Ed thrust into his face, and Bridget looked up at Drew. “I’m sorry I forgot to ask about Athena. Dr. Stemmer said you were with her. How is she feelin’?”
“Definitely better. My guess is that he’ll release her today.”
Drew glanced down at the form Ed slid in front of him, to hide his feelings from Bridget.
Athena had been there for him, too. Until the night everything changed.
He signed the last sheet and pushed it back toward Ed. “This is not going to be as simple and neat as signing insurance claims. Once we notify the police, the story will be plastered all over the media.”
“Don’t worry.” Connor had on his lawyer face. “I can delay the media frenzy. My contact at the police department will take care of the robbery report. It will be recorded for insurance purposes and then kept securely under wraps for three weeks. If we can convince the Smith sisters to keep quiet, we’ve got twenty-one days to find those dresses before all hell breaks loose.”
“Under those circumstances, will the police still investigate?” Drew asked.
“If there’s an investigation, I’ll be the number-one suspect,” Bridget stated flatly.
“Aunt Bridget, you’re above suspicion. Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything.” Connor’s frown shifted to the sweet, sensitive smile he reserved only for her. Drew had seen plenty of women try to coax the same smile out of Connor and fail.
If Drew weren’t a master at hiding his own feelings, he would have missed the flash of guilt in Bridget’s eyes.
Seeing it felt like a blade through his heart. She’d been like a mother to him. “Connor’s right. No one blames you for this, Bridget.”
He moved to stand beside her, shoulder to shoulder with Connor, like the Clayworths always stood.
Ed gave a deep, rumbling sigh. “I’m sure the insurance company won’t consider anyone in this room a suspect in the theft. However, they may be concerned about Athena suing all of you for what happened to her there.” He cleared his throat again. “I hesitate to mention this, but is it possible with Athena’s connections in the vintage world that she could be involved in this theft?”
Drew’s eyes clashed with Connor’s, and the room rang with it.
“Think about it, Drew. Vintage couture is Athena’s specialty. And the gowns were the only items taken.”
Odd he felt the need to defend her. “Or someone wants us to believe Athena is involved. So this was a good time to make their move.”
Fury in her eyes, Bridget pushed herself up. “This is total rubbish, and I forbid all of you to ever mention such a thing again! Those lovely young women aren’t guilty of anythin’ besides loathin’ the lot of us.”
Connor shrugged. “I agree about Diana and Athena. But I wouldn’t put anything past Venus. Short of committing the robbery herself.”
Bridget smiled, her eyes widening, like the thought intrigued her. Ed turned an unhealthy scarlet, obviously embarrassed to be found so far off base.
Drew knew the spirited Smith sisters were capable of a great deal. Larceny? He doubted it. Even if their father’s dealings were questionable.
“Ed, you’re right about Athena’s connections. She could help us locate possible black-market venues where the dresses might be sold. Lewis said we need to find those missing dresses before anyone else becomes affected. It’s Clayworth’s responsibility.”
Connor nodded. “If you can convince Athena to keep quiet, we have three weeks to do it until we’ll be in a legal tangle we don’t need right now on the heels of the Alistair mess.”
A ticking clock, like the Clayworth symbol crowning the corner of their flagship store in Chicago’s Loop, loomed over Drew. He had three weeks to keep the others safe. Three weeks before he left for the Fastnet in England. Three weeks to deal with Athena Smith back in his life.
He had no other choice but to start now by telling her the truth and ask for her help.
“Athena, I knew I should have gone to help you no matter what.” Makayla launched herself down to engulf Athena in a breath-defying hug.
Athena sucked in some air. Happy to be free of the IV bags, she patted Makayla’s shoulder. “Don’t upset yourself,” she soothed as she’d done so often for her sisters. “I’m glad you weren’t there. We certainly don’t need the two of us in hospital beds. What would the museum do without us?”
“You’re right. Gotta keep the place going.” With a deep, shuddering sigh, Makayla pulled herself up, kohl smeared around her wet eyes. “Everyone at the museum sends their love. Leonard sent these awesome flowers from his garden.”
Makayla thrust a fragrant bouquet of tiny roses toward Athena.
Thinking of gruff, rugged Leonard tending roses in the greenhouse window of his kitchen sent a rush of affection curling through her.
As if on cue, a volunteer strolled into the room, staggering a bit under the weight of an enormous bouquet of pink roses and baby’s breath.
Makayla yanked her small bouquet behind her back.
The older woman smiled. “Hello, dear. We have this beautiful bouquet for you.”
Athena quickly read the small white enclosure card and stopped smiling back. No rush of affection here. More like unease. It didn’t feel right to take it. “Thank you, but I’m sure there are other patients on the floor who would love to have these flowers. I already have a beautiful bouquet.”
Disbelief plainly written across her face, the older woman gasped. “You don’t want these lovely flowers?”
Athena knew Drew had sent flowers from Clayworth’s out of expediency.
“I’d like to share the flowers. I’m sure I’ll be going home today,” Athena said softly. She didn’t want to be rude, but she hoped the woman would retreat, taking the arrangement with her.
Mercifully, she seemed to understand and backed from the room. Through the open door Athena saw her put the flowers back on the cart and clatter down the hall.
Ponytail swinging, Makayla marched forward to place Leonard’s bouquet on the bedside table. “You want this one, right?”
“Love it.” Athena smiled up and caught Makayla staring at Drew lounging in the open doorway.
Of course she’s staring. His air of supreme confidence always made him irresistible. Even now, when I know better.
“Is he, like, a movie star or something?” Makayla whispered, giving Drew the once-over.
“Drew Clayworth.”
“For real? He’s hot,” she breathed, her eyes straying back to him.
Hot. Another scene drifted through her head. Her dressed in this same hideous puke green gown, throwing herself at Drew, clinging to him and smothering him in kisses. Truth, or hallucination like Bertha and Jackie?
Please, please don’t let it be true.
Her stomach felt hollow, like it did when she had to do something she dreaded. She sucked up her courage to find out the truth. “I need to talk privately for a few minutes with Mr. Clayworth.”
Makayla appeared not to hear her as she peered at him through half-closed lids, her cheeks rosy, her pale lips parted.
“Makayla,” Athena breathed, trying to be discreet.
Looking down at her with owl eyes, Makayla blinked. “Awesome. Got ya. I’ll be back later.”
At the door, Drew stepped aside for her to pass. “Have a good day,” he said before strolling in.
He appeared totally unconscious of the nearly swooning young woman he’d left in his wake.
Some things never change.
But she’d changed. She no longer felt guilt, regret, and confusion about what she’d done so long ago. Now he had no effect on her whatsoever. Again the prickly heat crawled along her skin. Had she confessed something else when she’d thrown herself at him?
Safe behind her concealing glasses, Athena braced herself to find out.
“Why do you wear those glasses? You had Lasik surgery when you were seventeen,” he said lightly.
Thrown off by his new tack, she fiddled with the frames. What’s he up to now? “I’m having eye strain from work.”
“I can give you the name of an excellent ophthalmologist.”
“No, thank you. I have my own.”
“Who is he?”
“He is a she.” Athena thrust up her chin, wanting to get this unpleasantness over with. “I need to tell Dr. Stemmer that I’ve remembered one of my colleagues was hospitalized with symptoms similar to mine after examining a Dior dress. The netting was degrading and giving off toxic substances, so… so I believe something similar has happened with the boning in Bertha’s gown. We must conserve the Bertha Palmer dress by placing it in cold storage. The degradation process is slowed down significantly, and then the boning can be replaced.”
He nodded, and she saw him square his shoulders, like he’d always done when he needed to do something he dreaded. “We will as soon as we find the dress.”
“Find the dress?” Shock brought her straight up in bed. “What are you talking about? You told me it was being delivered to the hospital hours ago.”
“The closet was broken into after you left. All four Bertha Palmer dresses were taken.”
His words froze her in disbelief and fear. “No! Those priceless dresses need to be safe in my museum where I can take care of them. Are there any suspects?”
Deep in his eyes, guilt flickered. She saw it and jumped to her own conclusion.
“Surely no one believes I had anything to do with this?”
His tiny pause sent such passionate anger roaring through her, she wouldn’t have been surprised if smoke spewed from her ears. “Oh, my God, you do think I did this!”
He shook his head. “Athena—”
“You honestly think I made myself sick so someone could steal those dresses!” she out-shouted him.
“No, I…”
After all she’d been through with his family and with him, he didn’t look contrite enough to her.
Or is this the truth serum still at work?
“I should sue you for defamation of character, even if my dad didn’t!”
Again something shifted through his eyes, buried so deep in the blazing blue, but she saw it.
“Oh, my God, you think I’m actually going to sue you, too!” The injustice of being so maligned when she’d taken the high road and not retaliated against them consumed her in red-hot rage. She folded her arms across her heaving bosom and turned away. “Leave my room at once.”
“No. I’m not leaving until we figure this out. We both want those dresses back, right?”
His strong authoritian tone instead of his usual light banter made it impossible not to respond. She glanced coolly back at him. “At last, you’ve said something true.”
“I haven’t said anything. You’re the one putting words in my mouth. All I want is your promise to keep quiet about this and get your family and friends to do the same while you help me get the dresses back.” He gave her his signature charming smile, the one calculated to help him get his own way.
She certainly wasn’t giving in to him, but the thought of careless, cruel hands destroying Bertha’s legacy to Chicago made her decide to consider his suggestion. “Do the police have any real suspects? Any clues? Those dresses need to be found before they’re harmed.”
He narrowed his eyes. “They need to be found so no one else becomes infected by them.”
His rebuke stung her. Embarrassment burned through the flimsy hospital gown. “That goes without saying. If the thieves don’t keep the dresses themselves, they’ll fence them to high-end collectors.”
She felt sick thinking of others enduring a headache so pounding it could surely be compared to Zeus’s when, according to Greek mythology, her namesake sprang fully grown out of his skull.
If exposed, would others react like I did? Shout their secret feelings to the world?
Feelings about Drew she’d thought long dead and buried under time and maturity.
Now she needed to push all her personal feelings aside for the greater good.
And the greater good for the museum, for Chicago, came miraculously presented to her on the proverbial Clayworth, rimmed-in-real-gold-and-sterling-silver, platter.
She pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “Since I’m the expert on the dresses and know most of the serious collectors, I can help find them. And when I do, I want them for the exhibit at the museum.”
This time he lowered his lids so she couldn’t read his eyes. “Since Clayworth’s was founded, it has been our policy never to loan out certain family treasures. The dresses fall under that category.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
Their eyes met and clashed. “What’s your proposition, Athena?”
Refusing to be cowed by Clayworth tradition, she lifted her chin. “I propose that we forget our personal feelings. Temporarily,” she amended. “We forget everything that might have transpired between us in this hospital because of conditions beyond our control. And we work together to find the dresses, and then, as a gesture of civic goodwill, you allow them to be displayed at the museum as an important piece of our Founding Families Exhibit.”
At last a flicker of genuine emotion he didn’t try to hide, amusement of all things, lit his eyes.
“You’ve got a deal, partner.”
His words rang in her ears, making her feel dizzy again. Obviously her world still beat to a different drummer than usual, or she wouldn’t have just agreed to work shoulder to shoulder with the enemy.
