Fading Starlight Part 16

Lauren took his extended hand and shook it. "h.e.l.lo." Her eyes were wide, and she kept glancing between Willow and Neil and Charlotte, clearly concerned about what might come next. Charlotte smiled at the thought. No need to disappoint the girl.

"Nice to meet you." Neil nodded an acknowledgment, looking professional but not unfriendly.

Charlotte gestured toward her niece, then. "And you already know my niece Willow."

"Yes, good to see you again." He nodded toward her, his face giving away nothing of his thoughts. This was one of the reasons Charlotte liked him so much. The man knew how to hold out for the element of surprise. And tonight's was going to be a doozy.

Frances set a Caesar salad before each of them. No one spoke, each person seemingly waiting for the others to lead the way. Lauren knew one thing for certain-she wasn't going to be the one to break the silence. Finally, Miss Montgomery c.o.c.ked her head in Lauren's general direction. "How do you like my necklace, Lauren?"

"I love it, obviously, but I thought . . ." Lauren looked toward Willow, swallowed hard, then turned back to Miss Montgomery. "I thought you lost it."

"No, it was never lost." She took a bite of salad.

"But you said-"

"It wasn't lost, it was taken. Isn't that right, Willow?" She smiled over at her niece and took another bite.

Willow held a forkful of romaine just off her plate and smirked toward Lauren. "That's right. Thankfully, Mr. Edwards happened across your hiding place."

"What?" Lauren's mouth went dry.

"That's right. After you moved out, I walked over to speak with Mr. Edwards as he was doing a walk-through. He found the necklace in the top back shelf of the closet. Did you forget you had left it there? Did you lose your nerve about selling it on the black market and decide to leave it behind? Or were you waiting for a higher bid?"

"I did not . . ." Lauren looked to her right. "Miss Montgomery, I did not put your necklace in that closet, or anywhere else for that matter." She stopped for just a moment, considering Frances's earlier words about not wanting to break Miss Montgomery's heart by telling her the truth about Willow. Still, there came a point when a person could no longer keep silent, and when one was being accused of a criminal act, that was definitely such a time. "I did not steal that necklace. Nor did I take it over to my cottage and hide it. If I had, why would I have left it behind to be found so easily? It's more than a little strange that you"-she looked at Willow-"just happened to be there when he found it."

"Yes, I was there. Of course I was there. Unfortunately, I had walked over to let him know that I had to withdraw my offer and was no longer interested in buying the place."

"Your offer? You mean . . ." Lauren looked toward Mr. Winston. "Someone really had made an offer? And it was Willow? I thought Mr. Edwards just made up that story to be a little more gentle when he kicked me out." The extent of this girl's schemes was just beginning to sink in. Clearly she had no qualms about throwing Lauren into the lion's mouth if it would save her own skin.

If Lauren held back any truth here, it might cost her even more than she'd believed possible. It was time to tell the full truth. "Miss Montgomery, I found your necklace in the potting shed the day after you told me it was missing. No one was home here, so I did take it back to the cottage for just the afternoon. That night, I brought it over and rang the doorbell. Willow answered, and I gave the necklace to her."

"Oh really? And why did you not mention this until now?" Miss Montgomery watched Lauren evenly.

Lauren glanced back toward the door that led to the kitchen. She didn't want to get Frances in trouble, but she was not going to allow herself to be accused of a crime to spare someone's feelings. She opted to start by being vague. "I believed that it might be devastating to you when you learned about your niece's deception. It didn't sit well with me, but I decided to remain silent for a little while and hoped that Willow would eventually bring it to you."

"This is absurd. Why would I not return my aunt's necklace? I know how much she treasures it, which is why I immediately returned it to her after I found it-in your cottage."

"Yes, Willow, you do know how much I treasure it, don't you, dear?" Miss Montgomery quirked an eyebrow at her niece, then turned her attention to Neil Winston. "Mr. Winston, why don't you tell these ladies about the call you received a few weeks ago. From Sotheby's in LA, I believe?"

"Yes, I'd be more than happy to tell them what I know." Condensation was dripping off his water goblet as he picked it up to take a sip. He savored the coolness of the water for one extra heartbeat before he continued. "It seems that someone had brought in an heirloom necklace to sell. She wanted it appraised. The jeweler recognized several things about the necklace right away. First off, he knew the design was a Joseph Throgmorton original. He also knew that some of the particulars of this design had been at the center of a Hollywood scandal some six decades ago-it was a story that always fascinated him. Third, he recognized right away that this was a copy of the original, a very good copy, that was stamped by the fabricator. He made some calls and came to find out that this had been made at the request of the insurance agent who represented the owner of the original."

Lauren was confused. "Why would they do that?"

Willow, whose face had gone a bit pale, rolled her eyes. "What, did you grow up under a rock? A lot of high-end jewelry pieces can only be insured if they are worn exclusively at highly secure events. So, when a woman gets a necklace worth several hundred thousand dollars, she has a copy made. These are high-quality fakes, mind you, still valued in the tens of thousands sometimes."

"Exactly. And in this particular case, that is the necklace in question." Neil Winston nodded his agreement with Willow's a.s.sessment.

Lauren was only growing more confused. "So, Miss Montgomery, it was a copy that you lost? Not the real necklace? Did you not realize that it was the copy when you first lost it?"

"No necklace was ever lost here, I can a.s.sure you of that." She took a sip of water, set down the goblet, and let the silence grow for a few seconds more before continuing. "I purposely misplaced that one, the copy, knowing you would be the one to find it. I planned on having you kicked out of your cottage as soon as you made the phone call to sell it-either as a necklace or as a story." She looked across the table then. "Please continue, Mr. Winston."

"Eventually, as manager of Miss Montgomery's estate, I was contacted by someone at the auction house." He paused, glancing at Willow. "We explained that this necklace had indeed been stolen, and we further instructed him to inform the potential seller that this was a copy but that he was willing to buy it for ten thousand dollars because of the history involved with the necklace."

Willow s.h.i.+fted uneasily in her seat, but her expression did not change.

Mr. Winston continued. "When the person who brought in the necklace realized it was worth a fraction of what she'd imagined, she came back to retrieve the necklace and left the store. It can only be a.s.sumed she went in search of a more lucrative outlet."

"And then she took it back to her cottage and hid it until I found it." Willow nodded, a malevolent grin settling on her lips. "What, were you going to see if you could find a higher bidder? Or someone who didn't know jewelry as well and would believe it was the real thing?"

"I did not take that necklace anywhere, and I did not hide it anywhere in my cottage. Miss Montgomery, I am telling you the truth."

Miss Montgomery looked across the table. "Mr. Winston, what do you have to say about this?"

"I say, a picture is worth a thousand words." He reached into a manila envelope and withdrew a photograph. He turned it so they could see it. "Anyone recognize this?"

thirty-two.

Charlotte Montgomery had been an impetuous seventeen-year-old. She could still remember her younger self, so full of energy and ideas and dreams. Those dreams began to die one by one and then two by ten, until there were none left.

She'd been sitting at the kitchen table of the bungalow house she shared with her mother and sometimes her father. The new edition of Confidential magazine was in her lap. Her father was reading some trade paper or other. Sixty years later, she could still remember how it felt to see that picture, to read the words. She could still hear the whoos.h.i.+ng sound of ruffling paper as she threw the magazine across the room, where it splatted against the far wall, then slid to an untidy heap at the bottom.

Her father had looked up from his newspaper then, tilted his head, and just looked at her. Finally, without saying a word, he stood up and walked over to see what all the fuss was about. He picked it up and flipped through the pages. There was no question as to the exact moment he recognized what it was she had been reading. "No wonder you're upset, reading this trash. Why do you keep buying this? I told you, this is a bunch of garbage."

He had originally made this particular observation about this particular publication after he and Charlotte's mom had been photographed together, with a story following about their decades-long affair. He had called and threatened to sue, but there was nothing they had said that wasn't the complete truth. In fact, times being different then, it seemed that the magazine had withheld a fair amount of information. They threatened to print these additional tidbits if he took them to court, and that had been the end of it. He'd hated the magazine ever since.

In this upsetting issue, there were multiple pictures of Randall Edgar Blake at the "21" in New York with JoAnne Mayfield. They were surrounded by admirers as they sipped champagne, celebrating the fact that she had just been named Playmate of the Month. The problem came in the next line. They had also announced that she was all set to star in his latest film, The Power of Love.

"He promised that lead role to me, you know he did. He told me the role was mine right before he got on that plane to New York." The role had meant all that much more because Randall Edgar Blake did not answer to her father in any way. This was a role she'd won on her own merit. Or so she'd thought at the time.

"Believe me when I say you're better off. The guy is a loser." Her father, she noticed, rather than folding up the magazine and dumping it in the trash, actually read every single word of the article. He shook his head, then handed it back to her. "This is not the kind of man you want to do business with, trust me. Nothing good would have come of it."

She'd started to cry then, in spite of the fact that to do so in front of her father was humiliating. "But I did everything right, and I got offered the role fair and square. It was going to be my chance to show the world that I could do this on my own."

Her father walked over and put his arm around her shoulder. "Now, now, don't you waste another tear. You deserve far better than that, and that louse of a man will eventually get what's coming to him."

Charlotte turned her head slightly to look at him. "Finally I thought I was good enough. Now I find out that I'm not."

"He's a climber, baby, and those are the kinds of people you've got to watch out for. One minute they're holding on to you like you're best friends, the next minute they're walking on your head and reaching just a little higher on the rungs."

Charlotte wiped her eyes. "They're all climbers, aren't they? Everyone we know? Everyone in this town?" And that was when she first began to realize what everyone else had known all along. She didn't fully believe it, not even then. It was too terrible to allow herself to believe. All of her roles, all of her dates, and all of her friends. Nothing but climbers, using her as just another stepping-stone.

"Not to worry, my pet. You are talented. The right role will come along, and when it does, you'll be glad to have walked away from this clown when you did." He walked over to his briefcase, opened it, and pulled out a wrapped rectangular box. "I've got something for you. It was supposed to be for your birthday, but given the circ.u.mstances, I'm thinking there's no harm in opening it a few days early."

She took the package, looking up at his smiling face when she did. "What is it?"

"Open it and find out." He tapped the top of the box. "Every time you wear it, I want you to remember that you are somebody special, and that you are completely and fully worthy of anybody or anything in this entire world."

She'd unwrapped the package and been stunned by the beauty inside. It was the most gorgeous necklace she'd ever seen. Huge sapphires surrounded by diamonds encircling each individual stone.

"I've always liked you in blue. It brings out your eyes."

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He'd hugged her then and stood. "I've got to run. One thing, though, the insurance fellow made me promise to keep this locked up. You're not allowed to wear it anywhere or anytime when there is not adequate security."

"When can I wear it, then?"

"We're in the process of having a copy made for you to wear whenever you feel like it. The jeweler is fabricating it now, but I'll be out of town when it's ready. Can you remind your mother to go pick it up next week?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's my girl." He walked from the house, smiling as he closed the door. She'd had no idea it would be the last time she'd ever see him. Two days later, he was dead, and she and her mother found out exactly how many of their friends were true. The answer was . . . none.

thirty-three.

This is absurd." Willow turned her face away.

Mr. Winston handed the photo to Lauren. It showed Willow and a young stick-thin Asian woman exchanging a paper bag between the two of them. It made no sense, so she looked back up at him, waiting for an explanation.

"Yes, it is." Miss Montgomery's voice was calm, firm. "Completely absurd." She paused for just a moment, then said, "Now, what was it you were saying-the reason you were here was to heal the family rift? Did you believe somehow that selling this necklace would be beneficial to that? And then, when you realized it wasn't the real thing, you decided it could be lucrative in a couple of other ways."

"I don't know what you are talking about. Mr. Edwards found that necklace in his cottage. Ask him if you don't believe me."

"First of all, you retrieved the necklace, apparently believing that returning it to me would be more beneficial to you than selling off the copy. Then you attempted to make Lauren look as though she'd had something to do with it. The problem is, that's not even the worst part of your betrayal."

Neil Winston pulled out a copy of the LA Times article from that morning. It showed a picture of the necklace with the engraving from Randall Edgar Blake. New Evidence Arises in the Decades-Old Randall Edgar Blake Murder, the headline read.

"You really should learn the facts of what you possess before you go selling information to the newspapers," Miss Montgomery said.

"There is engraving on that necklace. I don't know how you can be much more factual than that." Willow frowned toward her aunt, the hint of a dare on her face.

"Keep in mind, this was the copy necklace. We had a fake engraving added to it, for reasons that I will not go into. Needless to say, the original has a much different engraving. It was from my father. Would you like to see it?" Miss Montgomery reached behind her for the clasp.

Willow's face had gone deathly pale. "I . . . well, I . . ."

Miss Montgomery set the necklace upside down beside her niece. Willow refused to look at it.

Finally, Miss Montgomery picked the necklace back up and handed it to Lauren. "Since my niece seems to be suddenly unable, or unwilling, to even look at my jewelry, perhaps, Miss Summers, you would do us all the courtesy of reading the inscription aloud to us?"

Lauren reached down to pick up the necklace, surprised that the original seemed even heavier than the copy. She held the clasp up to the light and read, in the tiniest script, "'To my daughter, the one who has my heart. You are worthy, beautiful, and honorable.'"

"Truth was, I was none of those things and never have been, but my father saw me that way. Being born to a single mother back in those days . . . well, let's just say that there was no shortage of reminders that I was not worthy or honorable. As for beautiful, you don't have to be in Hollywood long to begin to understand your shortcomings in that particular area. I wear this necklace now to remind myself that there was once someone who did think these things of me. Even if he was the only one." She extended her hand toward Lauren. "If you don't mind."

Lauren handed her the necklace. "Do you need help with the clasp?"

"I've worn this piece every single day of my life for the past sixty years. I think I can manage it." She fastened the clasp in the front, then turned the necklace around on her neck, before directing her attention back to Willow. "People like you are the very reason I chose to live out here in the middle of nowhere, spend time with no one, and care about no one. All my life growing up, there were people who pretended to like me, to be my friend, to love me. All they actually loved were my money and my father's power. When that power was taken away, guess what? They ran as fast as they could toward the next person who they thought could help them."

Lauren's heart ached for Miss Montgomery and for the years she'd spent here, essentially alone and miserable. How awful it must be to not be able to trust anyone. In spite of her unusual childhood, Lauren at least had Chloe and Rhonda and Aunt Nell. She felt a tear slide down her cheek. She reached up with the napkin and pretended to wipe her mouth while dabbing at her cheek. When she glanced toward Miss Montgomery, she found her watching her closely, having seen the whole thing.

"Now, you are a more confusing piece of the story, I'll admit that. You don't seem to have anything to gain here, yet you keep coming back. I still don't understand what motivates you."

"Miss Montgomery, it breaks my heart that your life has been such that you disbelieve the sincerity of even the smallest act of kindness. Most people would accept it for what it is, I think, but then again, most people have not come from your unusual background. I simply wanted to be a small reflection of G.o.d's love toward you, because people in my past have been that to me. I'm sorry if my attempts at kindness actually had the opposite effect on you. Believe me, that was never my intention."

"Truth is, I think I do believe you, strange as that is for me to say."

"Oh, come on, Aunt Charlotte, anybody can see that she is just after your money."

"That's what you see because that's how you feel. Perhaps people who think differently feel differently and see things differently, too. I'm only sorry that it has taken me almost sixty wasted years to finally understand this." She looked toward Lauren. "I'd like to start by asking your forgiveness." She turned to the side wall to study an oil painting of a young girl in a party dress, as if she suddenly found it fascinating. She rubbed her hand across the neckline of her dress, then looked back at Lauren. "Forgiveness for doubting your intentions, when they apparently were n.o.ble."

"Of course I forgive you." Lauren looked from Miss Montgomery to Willow, who was still glaring at her, to Mr. Winston, who was fidgeting in his seat as if there was more to be said. "I hope I'll get the chance to make another dress for you sometime."

"There's nothing I would love more. Thank you." Miss Montgomery rose from her chair. "Please, stay seated, enjoy your dinner and desserts. I find myself needing to lie down." She swept out of the room, her blue gown glowing in the light as she left.

Mr. Winston waited until the door had closed behind Miss Montgomery before he turned his attention toward Willow. "I've been asked to notify you that, as of right now, you are no longer welcome in this house. Miss Montgomery asks that you kindly not return, as you will not be allowed inside this house ever again."

"But I . . . she can't . . ."

"Of course she can. In fact, I'll see you to your car."

Lauren pushed back her chair and prepared to leave, also. It seemed this evening had drawn to its conclusion, however weird that conclusion had been.

Neil Winston motioned toward her seat. "Miss Summers, could you please stay for just a little longer? I do have a few more things to discuss with you."

Lauren sank back into her chair, completely perplexed about what else was left to discuss, especially now that Miss Montgomery had left the room. She nodded toward Mr. Winston. "Okay."

Willow cast a backward glare toward Lauren as she walked out of the room, then turned up her nose and disappeared out the door.

thirty-four.