watch.
'Shhh!' hissed Lonnie when I came through the door. He beckoned to me urgently. 'Don't interrupt. Three minutes, thirty seconds left.'
'You're not sneezing,' I whispered.
'What?'
I pointed to Julia Roberts, who was sitting nearby, apparently paying close attention to the dialogue between Fran and my aunt. 'You're allergic, remember?'
Lonnie scowled at Jules. 'Thanks to that damn cat, I've got antihistamine coming out my ears.'
Harriet shushed us.
'Harriet's got a piece of the action,' Lonnie murmured.
I tuned in to the conversation. Fran was saying, 'You can't trust the assholes to get anything right.'
Aunt Millie nodded vigorously. 'Too true, too bloody true. Crooked as a dog's hind leg, the lot of them.'
'Politicians,' Lonnie whispered to me. 'They've found a hatred in common.'
'Corrupt SOBs,' said Fran. 'Despicable, contemptible media whores.'
'Hypocritical buggers, boofheads, and dags.'
I murmured to Lonnie, 'They seem to be getting on rather well.'
'Yeah, damn it.'
'What are you two talking about?' said Fran turning around to glare at us.
'It's private,' Lonnie declared.
Fran sniffed and turned back to my aunt. 'Where were we?'
'Oh, shit!' said Lonnie. 'The time's up!'
Fran smiled triumphantly at Harriet and Lonnie. 'I'll expect payment in cash by tomorrow morning,' she said in a voice too soft for my aunt to hear. 'No excuses.' They departed, grumbling. Julia Roberts stalked off too.
Fran said to my aunt, 'Great meeting you, Millie. We must do this again some time.'
'For an American, she's not too bad,' said Aunt Millie after Fran had left, no doubt to give Melodie the unpleasant news about the bet. 'Got her head screwed on the right way. None of this pie-in-the-sky stuff.'
'You don't think Fran has a rather dark view of life?'
'Not at all. I'd call it realistic. Like me, she tells it like it is, and-' She broke off to peer at my face. 'What are you playing at, my girl? You're painted like a prostitute.'
'It's makeup.'
By now Aunt Millie had homed in on my short skirt and high heels. 'Disgusting. Your mother would be shocked.'
It was no use trying to explain. 'I'll go and change.'
'While you make yourself decent, I'll have a word with your business partner, the Creeling woman.'
I went quite cold. 'Aunt Millie, please-'
'I can't rely on you to tell me the truth, Kylie. This Creeling woman may be more forthcoming.'
'Her name is Ariana,' I said. 'Not the Creeling woman. If you wait until I change-'
'I'd prefer to see her alone.'
I looked at her, a feeling of impotence flooding me. When her mind was made up, my aunt was implacable. Nothing I did or said would make any difference.
Bob Verritt chose this moment to come into the kitchen. Aunt Millie smiled up at him. 'This nice young man can show me to your partner's office.'
'Would you mind, Bob?' I said.
I had to get out of there before Aunt Millie saw the tears welling in my eyes. I slipped off my shoes, and carrying them in one hand, hurried to my room, fortunately meeting no one on the way.
I never cried. I wasn't going to now.
The best thing was to keep busy. I cleaned my teeth, washed my face, and changed into jeans and a plain blue shirt.
In all my life, I'd never hated Aunt Millie, not even when she was at her most unkind, but I was close to hating her now. What was she saying to Ariana? My mind skittered around all the possibilities, none of them good.
I wasn't going to skulk around my room. I'd go and see what was happening. I checked my face in the bathroom mirror and tried a smile. It didn't work. Better to try for serious, low-key.
As I reached Ariana's office, Aunt Millie and Ariana came out through the door. 'There you are,' said Millie. 'I'm ready for you to drive me back to the hotel.'
'OK,' was all I could manage, without revealing how upset I was.
I glanced at Ariana. I couldn't read her expression. What in the hell had Aunt Millie told her?
The trip back to the hotel was silent. Jet lag had obviously caught up with my aunt, as she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. I saw her to her room, found the room-service menu for her, told her I'd call her in the morning, and went back to my car.
I didn't want to return to Kendall & Creeling. Everyone would have left by now, and the rooms would be empty and sad. But Jules would be expecting her dinner, so I had to go back.
Ariana's dark blue BMW was the only car left in the parking area. I sat and stared at it for a few moments, debating whether to go in or leave. I didn't want to face her tonight.
It was an effort to get out of my car and walk to the front door. I took a deep breath and opened it. Perhaps I could dodge Ariana and go to my room without running into her.
'Kylie?'
So much for that hope. 'Yes, it's me.' I locked the door behind me. It was getting dark, and I was always aware that danger could lurk in the shadows.
Ariana came toward me with her lovely loose-limbed stride. 'Would you like tea? Or maybe a stiff drink?'
'Tea would be good.'
Predictably, Julia Roberts was waiting in the kitchen. Ariana switched on the electric kettle while I fed Jules. 'You lucky cat,' I said. 'It's turkey tonight.'
Jules attacked the turkey with her usual enthusiasm. 'It's her favorite,' I said to Ariana, just to fill the silence between us.
Going through the ritual of making tea soothed me. Ariana surprised me by saying she'd have some too. 'Don't you prefer coffee?'
'I'll keep you company.'
Ridiculously, her just saying that upset me. I blinked hard and fiddled around with the teapot and finally poured the tea. We sat side by side on tall stools, our mugs sitting on the counter in front of us.
'That's quite an aunt you have there,' she said at last.
'You could say that.' I swiveled around on my seat to face her. 'Ariana, I'm so sorry. I don't know what Aunt Millie said to you, but…'
Hell, I was going to cry.
Ariana put an arm around my shoulders. 'It's all right.'
I fished around in my pocket for a handkerchief. 'I'm sorry to be such a sook.'
She smiled. Her eyes were so blue. I couldn't help it. I leaned forward and kissed her.
Fourteen
Fran leaned her diminutive form against the kitchen counter in an identical pose to yesterday's, when she'd been talking to my aunt. Her china-doll face with its creamy skin was really very appealing, I decided, at least when she wasn't scowling. At the moment she looked quite pleasant.
She chewed reflectively on the health-food bar she habitually ate for breakfast. 'There's something about your aunt I like.'
I looked moodily at my porridge. 'Her worldview, perhaps.'
'There's that,' said Fran, 'but there's something more. Something almost inexpressible.' She paused to consider the matter, then said, 'I have the same quality myself. No one's ever been able to define it.'
