very grateful to you for that.
“Now, I honestly can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt me, except my family.” She paused, looking over his left shoulder. Then her eyes met his and she said very quietly, “If it is my family, then there’s a solution. Will you marry me now? As soon as possible? Then if my family is behind it for the money, they wouldn’t have a motive anymore because you’d be my beneficiary.”
Taylor smiled. He had been on the point of asking her to marry him for the same reason. “You’re pretty smart, you know that? How about tomorrow afternoon? You’re a Protestant. I know a Presbyterian minister. Is that okay?”
She nodded, relief and happiness overcoming the pain.
Taylor tried to choose his words carefully, but he didn’t entirely succeed. “Your father’s behavior appears irrational to me. So is your half-sister’s. As for your stepmother, she’s practically off the deep end. If one of them— or both or all three—were behind the attempt on your life, then once we’re married, I really do think you’re right. They’ll not forgive, but they will forget.”
“What about the prince?”
“Sergeant Kinsley has checked. Sure enough, the prince is here in New York. He cleared customs on Sunday. He’s staying with his wife. If the motive is money, the police will discover it soon enough.” He felt her become rigid, felt the awful fear come into her, saw it in her eyes.
“It’s okay. I’m afraid, too, but let me tell you something, Lindsay. If that man tries to come near you, I’ll hurt him. Please believe me, because I’m telling you the truth.”
“Like you hurt Demos?”
“Lots worse.”
“I’ll look real silly in a wedding veil right now.”
“Once you’re unwrapped and rid of your cocoon and feeling back to normal, we’ll do it again. I love you. Will you marry me tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Lindsay closed her eyes. Married to Taylor. She saw her father’s face. Saw his rage, for he would be enraged because he’d see himself unable to coerce her once Taylor was her husband. Had he tried to have her killed? She saw Holly and knew she was as furious as her husband. Both of them hated her, blamed her for somehow making her grandmother leave her everything. Lindsay still wondered, she still couldn’t figure out why her grandmother had left her the money. She was very tired. Her face throbbed and pressed heavily down. Her ribs rubbed and gnawed. She hated the sound of the soft hissing. The doctor had said perhaps tomorrow she would be unhooked from the lung machine. But Taylor had agreed to marry her. Everything would be all right.
Taylor kissed her and left, telling her he’d be back in a couple of hours.
He’d hired a private nurse, Missy Dubinsky. She entered the moment he left, big breasts bouncing, full hips straining at the white pants, smarmy big smile. Lindsay knew it was wise that she never be alone, but the woman was simply too cheerful and so thrilled to be taking care of a beautiful model. She oozed goodwill. Lindsay ground her teeth and kept silent.
Jesus, she thought. Beautiful—she touched her fingertips to the thick bandages that covered her head and the right side of her face.
Yeah, some beauty she was now. She hadn’t believed Dr. Perry. She wasn’t stupid. Taylor had spoken easily about her career, questioning her about the future and what she wanted. No, she wasn’t stupid. He was preparing her. She just prayed she wouldn’t look like a freak, with one eye lower than the other. She just prayed Taylor wouldn’t feel revulsion once the bandages were off and the stitches taken out. She prayed Taylor really loved her.
At least she was alive.
Who had tried to kill her?
21
It was a lovely wedding. Never mind that the bride was propped up in bed wearing a hospital nightgown beneath a satin bed robe—white, of course—holding a bouquet of roses in her right hand and her head wrapped in white bandages.
Still, Gayle Werth and Sheila Sackett had gotten together and in the space of twenty-four hours, along with the help of the nurses and orderlies and doctors, had turned the room into a flower garden of red roses and white carnations. They’d even draped the bed and windows with pink and white crepe paper. The one Monet print on the wall opposite the bed had a big white bow on it.
The staff had done even more. The nurses had given Lindsay a huge box of condoms and wrapped her lung machine with a huge red bow. The card on the condoms read: “Soon to be replaced.” The card on the lung machine read: “Soon to be gone.”
Dr. Perry had given her an antique mirror-and-brush set, telling her as she opened it that she was going to be beautiful very soon again and he wanted her to have a mirror close at hand to admire herself and to admire him. Demos and Glen weren’t to be outdone. They’d provided for home delivery of two dozen gourmet meals from La Viande. Demos said, “Well, I know for a fact that all Lindsay can manage is a salami sandwich. She said you were the cook, Taylor, but I didn’t believe her.” He turned to Lindsay and took her hand. “I want my models to suffer to stay thin. Did I say that all the meals were seven courses?”
As for Taylor, he laughed at the condoms and was grateful for the meals, since he could count his own ribs now. As for Lindsay, she was a stick. He prayed that Dr. Perry would have a fine life for his kindness.
It was Enoch who remembered one dark wool suit. He had it cleaned along with a white dress shirt, and brought it to the apartment an hour before the wedding at the hospital.
“Cufflinks,” Taylor said, scrambling through the dresser drawers.
“Here,” Enoch said, and handed him a gold pair in the shape of unicorns. “I thought you’d be too nervous to think about anything on your own. These were my dad’s. Sheila always said he was into fantasy. Then she always smiles. It’s tough thinking about your parents making out, you know?”
“Thanks.” Taylor turned to give his friend a distracted smile. “Thanks too for the piano lessons from you and your mom. How did you know that I wanted to learn and Lindsay already played?”
Enoch tapped the side of his head. “Mom says our brains go back to before the
“Yeah, right. Hey, Enoch, do you see any pigs taking off outside?”
In the taxi Enoch said, “Look, Taylor, try out a smile on me. You’re getting married, not going to a funeral.”
Taylor said very quietly, “I’m scared shitless.”
Enoch patted his hand and nodded wisely. “Look, I know you never wanted to get married again, not after Diane, and here Lindsay is probably richer than Diane was, but—”
“I’m scared shitless about the maniac out there trying to kill her.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Taylor sighed. “Funny thing is, I probably should be scared about remarrying, but I’m not. I love her and can see both of us together until my brain gives out into mist and my body folds up into bones. It’s strange, but there just aren’t any doubts. As for her money, we’ll deal with it.”
“Do you think you’ll keep on with the business?”
Taylor turned to look fully at the man who’d been his friend for six years. “Why do you ask?”
Enoch looked embarrassed. He shrugged. “You’re rich. You don’t have to be a working stiff anymore.”
“No, Lindsay is rich. I’m still just me. Now, don’t get me wrong. I think a man who scoffs at his wife’s money and insists she’s to live on his salary alone is an ass.”
“That was your attitude with Diane and her money.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to be mature about this, Enoch. Lindsay can do whatever she wants with the money. If she wants to make it part of the common pot, so be it. Hey, we might decide to invest in pork bellies or pinto beans. Or we’ll buy Kauai. How about a helicopter business? You got any suggestions?”
Enoch laughed. “She’s a great woman, Taylor. She’s changed a lot since back in November. Come to think of it, you have too.”
Taylor remembered the night she’d come back from San Francisco. He could still taste her mouth, feel her
