“I had no idea you were so sentimental, Mother,” he said stiffly. “Or is it just that you haven’t replaced that wallet in years?”
“The wallet is brand-new,” his mother responded tartly. “A gift from a grateful constituent. As for these pictures, I’ve always treasured them. I took very few when I left your father.”
“How noble, when you robbed him of everything else that really mattered.”
Not even the very polished Mrs. Pennington could hide her shock at the deliberately cruel comment. Callie was stunned by the depth of his scorn. Clearly she was way out of her depths in these particular waters. She felt as if she’d wandered into some dark Ibsen drama and didn’t know her lines. It probably didn’t matter since her companions had clearly been rehearsing theirs for years.
Mrs. Pennington, her cheeks flushed pink, looked at Callie. “I’m terribly sorry you got caught in the crossfire. This is an old disagreement between Jason and myself. Sometimes my son doesn’t understand that family squabbles shouldn’t be played out in front of strangers.”
“Callie is hardly a stranger,” Jason snapped.
“She is to me, which is why I invited her to cocktails. If you can’t be civil, then you may leave,” she suggested with an imperious wave of her bejeweled hand. She was wearing a diamond-and-ruby ring big enough to knock out anyone she happened to strike with it.
“I’m too old to be ordered off to my room,” Jason countered. “If Callie stays, then I stay.”
Callie looked from one scowling countenance to the other and decided it was time to cut and run before there was bloodshed. “Maybe this was a bad idea. We can do it another time.”
“It won’t be any better another time,” Mrs. Pennington assured her with a wry smile. “You see my son doesn’t approve of me.”
“Which makes your determination to meddle in my life all the more perplexing,” Jason said. He stood and glanced down at Callie. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She shot a regretful look at Mrs. Pennington, who suddenly looked incredibly sad. “Thank you for inviting me.”
She had to practically run to catch up with Jason, who was striding toward the exit as if a whole squadron of outraged viewers were after him.
Outside, Henry appeared as if he’d known precisely how to time the arrival. Apparently Jason’s get-togethers with his mother rarely lasted long.
Only when they were in the back of the waiting limo did Jason speak. “Satisfied?” he inquired, his tone chilly.
Callie glared right back at him. “As a matter of fact, no. You have a lot of explaining to do.”
The look he turned on her was lethal. “Oh?”
“Starting with why you never even mentioned you had a mother living right here in New York, much less that particular mother.”
He shrugged. “You may have noticed, we don’t get along.”
“I noticed that you don’t. She seems to be trying.”
“Do I tell you how to deal with your mother?”
“All the time.”
“Well, from now on you can ignore me, just the way I’m going to ignore you. The subject of mothers is hereby declared off-limits.”
“I don’t think so.”
They were still arguing about it when they got to Callie’s apartment. All further discussion was tabled the minute Callie caught a glimpse of her own mother, who looked as if she were ready to model for some magazine cover. Even Jason seemed dumbfounded by the change.
“Mother, what on earth?” Callie murmured, circling her mother as if she were an intriguing stranger.
Her mother’s cheeks, now more clearly defined by subtle makeup, turned bright pink. “Do you like it?” she asked hesitantly, patting the soft brown curls that skimmed her chin.
“You look absolutely...” Words failed her.
“Ravishing,” Jason chimed in.
“Don’t overdo,” her mother chided Jason.
“I’m not,” he swore. “You look twenty years younger.”
“Maybe five,” her mother said shyly.
“No, Jason’s right,” Callie said. “Mother, you are gorgeous. But why? How?”
“I got this idea in my head yesterday and Neil helped me. He made an appointment at a salon and took me there himself.”
Callie thought she had never seen her mother look quite so happy. Something told her, though, that makeup couldn’t account for all the color in her mother’s cheeks. She had the distinct impression that there was more behind this makeover than her mother had admitted to and that whatever it was was likely to be far more disconcerting than a new haircut.
26
Callie was exhausted. She’d been trying to disguise the circles under her eyes for the past ten minutes, but none of the tricks Terry had taught her were working. She gathered up her makeup sponges and various tubes of foundation and cover-up and headed for his dressing room. Since the circles were his fault, he could repair the damage.
Once he’d shown up the night before to admire her mother’s new look, they’d all sat around her apartment until the wee hours of the morning dissecting what they knew—and didn’t know—about the threats. There was so little new information to go on that they’d all finally given up in defeat but not before they’d nitpicked the subject to death.
“I think the crisis is past,” Terry had said, hopefully, at the end. “No mail, no phone calls, no visits, no pranks.”
Jason had been adamant about not letting their guard down. He’d scowled at Callie. “You stay in Hank’s sight while you’re at the studio, okay? I think it’s safe to say those little accidents were meant as warnings. I want Hank to examine every single prop you’re supposed to use.”
Callie stared at him. “How did you find out about...” She glanced over and caught Terry’s guilty expression. “Never mind.”
Jason wasn’t through yet. “And make sure Hank is going to be at that softball game.”
“There will be a zillion people around that day,” Callie protested. “No one would dare to try anything.”
“Having a
