Fading Starlight Part 14

Cody came to stand beside Lauren. "You look amazing."

"Thanks." She felt the flush on her cheeks, then nodded toward him. "You clean up rather well yourself."

"Don't let it get out. I wouldn't want to ruin my reputation as the redneck transplant."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"How about a dance?"

She nodded. "Sounds good."

Chloe, being true to herself, was playing all vintage music. Lots of Glenn Miller and Frank Sinatra and the like. Cody pulled her onto the dance floor with a loose hold around her waist. "I like the old music," he said as "Moonlight Becomes You" came out through the speakers. "It's easier to dance to, and the words actually mean something."

Lauren let him lead her across the gra.s.s. "I couldn't agree more."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"Moonlight really does become you." He spun her around, and for just a moment, she felt almost happy. This day had been magical.

It wasn't until several hours later, when the birdseed had been thrown and Chloe and Jasper were on their way to a week in Palm Springs, that the magic of the evening wore off. Looking around at the work to be done tomorrow, Lauren knew there was a lot of mess to clean up. In almost every area of her life.

twenty-eight.

It needs a bit of cleaning up, but I'll knock a hundred dollars off the first month's rent to make up for it." Paula Caine was a tired-looking woman in her late thirties. Her pale brown hair was pulled back into a droopy ponytail, which somehow managed to convey the idea that even her hair was exhausted and spent. She led Lauren up a narrow set of wooden stairs that barely managed to fit between the tall shrubs at the fence line and the vinyl siding on the garage. The shrubs were overgrown, and several branches stuck out well into the already-narrow stairway. Paula yanked at one particularly long branch and looked over her shoulder. "I'll knock off another fifty if you want to get a set of shears and clear this out a little."

The thought of moving into yet another fixer-upper was more than a little disheartening. The high school was just getting into the thick of the play, and her time was at a premium now. That was the reason Lauren had hurried to do the work on the cottage-so she would have a decent works.p.a.ce and time to concentrate on the play. So much for that plan.

Well, as Rhonda would say, the best view came after a hard climb. This rental unit was just another step on the path.

Paula pushed open the door and led the way into the above-garage unit. Lauren followed her inside.

Although it was not as dusty and cobwebby as the vacant-for-years cottage had been upon her first arrival, this place had the kind of filth and grime that comes from recent uncaring tenants. There were oil splatter marks on the back wall of the kitchenette, the corners of the floor had a thick layer of something that had never been mopped away, and it appeared a ball had been bounced off the ceiling repeatedly, as there were telltale dirty little circles all around the s.p.a.ce that served as both living room and bedroom.

"The Murphy bed pulls down like this." Paula went over to a cabinet on the far wall, reached up, and yanked down the bed.

The place smelled of mold and must, with just a hint of stale urine. And yet, beggars could not be choosers. Fact was, the rent was affordable, it was in a fairly safe neighborhood, and Paula Caine wasn't asking for a long-term lease agreement. Month-to-month was fine by her, since she was in the process of a divorce and wasn't sure whether or not she'd be able to keep the house when all was said and done.

"I have my kids Monday through Wednesday and every other weekend. When they are here, I need you to make sure the noise level is low to nonexistent after eight o'clock. It's hard enough being a single mother without having someone living in the backyard making noise and keeping them awake. Lord knows I had enough of that when my ex lived here."

"Not a problem."

Paula rubbed her palm against her forehead and nodded. "Glad to hear it."

Lauren left half an hour later having signed up for the place. She had to be out of the cottage in two weeks, and Paula had already given her the key to the above-garage unit and told her she could come work on it anytime. At least she could get this place cleaned up before she had to live in it. A wave of exhaustion broke over her as she drove back toward the cottage.

Once she arrived, the first thing she did was return to the dress form and the pieces of muslin she'd draped across it last night. She marked and pinned together the fabric to see if it worked the way she wanted it to, then went to cut out the pieces of the blue silk. Many of her friends considered this part tedious and boring to the extreme. Not Lauren, though. To her, it was relaxing. Studying the lines of the garment, looking for the perfect placement of every single piece, well, to her that was like working a puzzle. An intricate puzzle with the potential for incredibly beautiful results.

She spent extra time on each st.i.tch, making sure it was perfect, because this was going to be the finest gown she'd ever produced, and she would settle for nothing less. There would be light beading around the neckline to give just a hint of sparkle, but not too much. This fabric was more than able to stand alone. With each st.i.tch, her determination began to grow. She would do the right thing. Yes, she'd blown it up to this point, but from here on out, she knew her path.

Two weeks pa.s.sed in a swirl of dizzying activity as Lauren balanced her work on the play-the rehearsals of which were now going late into the evening-cleaning up her soon-to-be new apartment, and working feverishly on Miss Montgomery's dress. By the time moving day rolled around, Lauren felt as though she'd been chasing herself around in circles. Today she would be leaving the little cottage she had come to love and the location she loved even more. She had completed Miss Montgomery's dress last night, and the new rental was at least clean enough to be livable.

Lauren loaded the last of her possessions into her Ford Escape. Several times she'd noticed the curtain on the third-floor turret window across the street pulled back. By the time she took her final two loads out, Miss Montgomery was standing out on her porch, not even pretending to do anything but what she was doing. Glaring.

Lauren waited until she'd loaded every single one of her own possessions before she drew a deep breath, picked up the gown, and headed out the door.

As she approached, Miss Montgomery watched her evenly. "What's that you've got there?"

"I found this gorgeous fabric several weeks ago, and it reminded me of you. I just couldn't leave it behind, so I took the liberty of making a gown based on the measurements of the other dresses."

"I did not ask for that, nor did I pay you for it."

"I know. I did it out of . . . well, I did it because I wanted to do something nice for you. Given all that's happened, maybe we should call it an I'm-so-sorry gift. I do hope that you will wear it and enjoy it."

"I do not take charity."

"This is not charity. It's a gift. There's a difference."

Charlotte Montgomery made no move to take the dress. Lauren finally laid it across the nearest porch chair. "If you choose not to accept it, then please do know it is given with the best of intentions. I purposely didn't bring it over until I was leaving, because I didn't want you to think that I had an ulterior motive. Since I'm leaving now, and we'll likely never meet again, it's obvious that there is nothing I hope to gain from this."

Miss Montgomery's hand stroked up near her throat, as if feeling for a necklace that wasn't there. She said nothing, simply looked back and forth between Lauren and the dress.

Lauren nodded toward her, eyes suddenly starting to burn. "I'm sorry about how things ended up. That was my fault. I really wanted nothing more than to be your friend." She turned and made her way down the sidewalk toward her car, her heart heavy that she had failed. Maybe this just wasn't her time in life to be helpful to anyone. Something she should keep in mind in the future.

Her first evening in the new place, there was a knock on the door. Lauren supposed that it must be Paula coming to check and make sure she was settling in. She pulled open the door, ready to offer her a.s.surances that everything was fine.

Instead she found Kendall Joiner standing there, her arms folded across an LA Marathon T-s.h.i.+rt. "You've come up in the world. I like your new place."

Lauren didn't bother to respond, as it was obviously meant sarcastically. She pulled the door a little closer to her shoulder to block any expanded view of the interior or any crazy idea that Kendall might actually be granted entrance. "Why are you here?"

"You know why I'm here." She kept her voice low and looked over her shoulder behind her, as if expecting to be overheard.

"I told you, I don't have anything to say to you about Charlotte Montgomery."

"You told me that before she made certain you were kicked out of your place. Before you ended up in this dump." She put her hand on the rail and pulled back and forth, watching it rock precariously with the motion. "Doesn't it bother you at all? That old woman is living in that big ol' house, living a life of luxury, not doing one single thing for anyone except spinning her webs so that people like you, people who are doing their best, get kicked out of their dwellings when they are already going through a hard time that was not of their own doing."

"What do you know about why I'm here? Come to think of it, how did you even know where to find me?"

"I told you before, I'm a reporter, it's what I do." She made a point of touching the splintered wood on the doorframe. "I will say, to be as detail oriented as you seem to be in your work, it's amazing how clueless you are in your life. Otherwise you would have noticed my car following you from the old neighborhood. My sources had told me you were moving out. I simply waited until you drove by and followed you here."

"That's creepy."

"I'll tell you what's creepy. Doesn't it bother you that a woman who was very likely involved in a murder some sixty years ago is still able to wreak all this havoc on other people, including yourself? Don't you think the family of the victim would like some closure? Don't you think we owe it to them?"

"I don't believe that the gowns and jewelry Miss Montgomery wears have anything to do with a murder from sixty years ago. You're not asking for evidence, you're asking for gossip."

"You just don't understand the significance of these items like I do. If you did, you wouldn't say that."

"I don't believe that a person who is truly searching for the truth, about a murder no less, would need to or even be willing to resort to threats about ruining a nonprofit that is doing amazing work in Africa. No, the only reason I could see for someone to do that would be to sell more tell-all books and to make herself more money. Well, I wish you all the luck in the world, but you're not getting any information from me. Not one more bit."

"Have it your way. It's not like you're protecting her, you know. I have another source. An inside source. I was simply giving you one last chance to get on board, so I would have an excuse to give my editor about why I was so determined to spend valuable time working on Malfunction Gate."

"Why is it that I don't believe you?" Lauren paused, trying to get a grip on her temper, but it didn't work. "I'm sure your 'source'"-Lauren made air quotes around the word-"will just be full of new information."

"Oh, I'm quite sure of it. Say, for instance, that the reason you're living here now has something to do with a fiction about a buyer suddenly materializing for that little cottage. Or say that Miss Montgomery has a brand-new dress. It's a blue silk thing made for her by some pathetic little loser hoping to get on her good side. Well, according to my source, it didn't work. In fact, I'm pretty sure the dress has been sent to the dump by now." She turned and made her way down the stairs. She didn't stay to watch Lauren's face to see if her words had found their mark. There was no need. It was a direct hit, and there could be no doubt about that.

Lauren somehow managed to move slowly and calmly back inside and closed the door behind her before she lost it.

twenty-nine.

Traffic on the 405 was barely moving. Lauren's Escape crawled down the fast lane while she reflected, not for the first time, that there were definite advantages to living outside of Los Angeles, even if it was in a tiny studio apartment that was falling apart. Thankfully, she had built lots of extra time into today's drive, knowing that the 405 was almost always backed up. Things didn't begin thinning out until after the airport, and then only slightly.

As she approached Long Beach, the water came into view, surrounded by the giant cranes ready to off-load the containers from cargo s.h.i.+ps arriving from all parts of the world. The sight of them sent a wave of memories was.h.i.+ng over her, both good and bad, of childhood trips to this area. She remembered thinking the giant cranes looked like mechanical brachiosaurs and wondering if they came to life at night when no one was looking.

She followed the signs to the Queen Mary, the majestic s.h.i.+p sitting in the harbor, thankful that she was about to spend a nice evening with the people she loved most in the world. Chloe had planned this dinner months ago. Two weeks after the wedding, they would have a magical dinner on the Queen Mary. Chloe and Jasper would be spending the night on board. Their "second honeymoon," they were jokingly calling it. Rhonda and Jim would also be here. Since Jasper's family and his best man all lived out of state, it would just be the five of them.

This was the first of the "wedding season diversions," as Chloe was calling them, that Jim had partic.i.p.ated in. He was not a tea room or arboretum tour kind of guy, preferring to stick close to home. They had convinced him that the Queen Mary was worth his while because, being a history buff, he couldn't resist seeing the s.h.i.+p that Winston Churchill had traveled aboard. When he found out the restaurant was named Sir Winston's, he was in.

Lauren made her way inside the s.h.i.+p and through the lobby of the hotel portion and then followed the signs down the stairs to the restaurant. It was a large, elegant room, with a wall full of windows overlooking the harbor. It was breathtaking. No wonder Chloe had chosen this for the last hoorah of her wedding season.

The matre d' looked up as Lauren approached. "May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm here with the . . . well, either the Inglehart party or the Yoos party, I'm not sure which name the reservation is under."

He looked down at his ledger. "Yes, right this way, please."

Lauren could see the table filled with her friends at the far wall and was more than a little surprised to see Cody in the midst of them.

Chloe saw her, jumped out of her seat, and ran halfway across the restaurant to greet her. "It's so good to see you. It seems like it's been years." She drew her into a hug.

"You didn't tell me there was going to be a surprise guest," Lauren whispered, even though they were a good distance from the table.

"That's because I wanted it to be a surprise," Chloe whispered back.

"It worked."

"Of course it did. And it's time that you start coming out of your little funk and start experiencing life again."

As the two of them approached the table, Rhonda walked over to give Lauren a hug. Jim, Cody, and Jasper all stood up. Cody came around and pulled out the chair for her.

"So, tell us about your new place." Rhonda leaned across the table toward her. "I'm sure the location can't be as amazing as the last, but very few people ever get to live in that kind of area. Give us some details."

"It's nice." Lauren had no plans to tell them the truth about the dump of a place she lived in. "A small unit atop a detached garage. Quaint neighborhood closer to downtown, which of course has some advantages over the old place."

"That grumpy old lady. I can't believe she got you kicked out." Chloe folded her arms and leaned on her elbows. "Somebody needs to put her in her place, that's what I think."

"You know what, though? I brought some of this later stuff on myself. I kept hearing that verse about not making a treaty with the enemy running through my mind. I always a.s.sumed that it was warning me against making a pact with Miss Montgomery. What I've realized is that I completely misunderstood. The treaty I was supposed to avoid was one with Kendall. She was the one who dwelt in the land that I wasn't supposed to make a treaty with."

"I know you know that verse because I quote it all the time. But do you remember the story? From the Bible?" Rhonda asked.

"Vaguely. I know it was the Israelites who were not supposed to make a treaty when they entered the Promised Land."

"That's right. But they did. And why did they? Because they were tricked. Much like you were tricked. The people dressed up in worn rags and pretended to have come from a long distance off, so the Israelites a.s.sumed that it was fine to make a treaty with them because G.o.d had only told them not to make a treaty with the people in the land. These people appeared to be from somewhere far away. They realized too late that they had been duped."

"But it was their fault for not going to G.o.d and asking before making the treaty. Just like I a.s.sumed that what seemed obvious was indeed correct."

"Perhaps there is some truth to that. The Israelites were sworn to protect the people of Gibeon, which caused them some ha.s.sles they weren't meant to have, but G.o.d continued to bless them. In fact, He gave them a miraculous victory when they went to war to defend them, remember? The hailstones that killed more of the enemy than their swords did?"

Lauren nodded. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am." Rhonda smiled her cheeky grin and reached out to hug Lauren again. "You made a mistake. You are paying for it. But it doesn't mean that G.o.d will not continue to bless your endeavors. You have not messed up so badly that things can't be all right again. Just you wait and see."

Charlotte had hardly been able to contain herself. They were leaving in less than two days for Europe. Europe! Could life get any better than that?

She was dancing around her room beside her mostly packed trunks, dreaming about what the three-week journey would be like. Just then, her mother came bursting through the door. Her face was flushed with excitement. "Guess what, baby, guess what? You're not going to believe who will be on the crossing with us."

"Who?" Charlotte plopped on her bed, still as could be, waiting for the answer. It was rare for her mother to be this worked up. Surely something amazing was about to be revealed.

"Mr. Walt Disney himself! He's taking the Queen Mary over for the European premier of Alice in Wonderland. Can you believe it?"

They both squealed and jumped up and down. This was Charlotte's big chance. She was fourteen-the perfect age to break into a Disney film. Her father's influence couldn't really help her in this respect, so the dream had seemed mostly unattainable. But now-now they were going to spend the better part of a week locked aboard the same s.h.i.+p as The Man himself. What could be better? Charlotte thought she might burst with happiness.

That same feeling stayed with her until the morning they were to begin their journey. Charlotte was dressed and ready over an hour before their scheduled departure from the house. She heard the phone ring down the hall and knew it was her father calling to say that he was on his way to get them. She ran over to look in the mirror one final time, and that was when she heard the first crash down the hall. Followed by another, then another. She ran out of her room and down the hall, terrified of what she might find.

Her mother was standing at the kitchen door. There was a huge gash in the wall across from her and piles of broken porcelain all around the floor. "Mama, what happened?"

"We're not going to Europe after all, baby. Go unpack your things." She turned then and made straight for the liquor cabinet.

It was over a week later when Charlotte saw the first picture in the paper. Her father, waving from the deck of the Queen Mary, his wife and son standing by his side. Charlotte never did find out the reason for the last-minute change.

Her new living quarters were so tight Lauren could barely walk around when the bed was down. She had to cram all her costume accessories over to one side, and then there was the task of pulling out the sewing machine and starting all over again each morning. After a week, she had grown accustomed to the process. This particular day it was gloomy and overcast, a good day to spend inside working, which was a good thing because she had quite a bit to finish.