Chapter Twenty-six
Elizabeth’s first thought on spotting the television news crew milling around the entrance of the Sweet Solace Inn was there must have been a murder.
The olde worlde inn was too cheap and cheerful to attract celebrities, which was exactly why she’d chosen to stay there. Come to think of it, when she’d left for her walk, the husband and wife proprietors had been arguing in the furious undertones of two people itching to kill each other.
Except—she scanned the parking lot—no cops, no ambulances, no crime-scene tape.
A female reporter holding a microphone glanced over as Elizabeth crossed the road and self-consciously she straightened her baseball cap and yanked at her oversize T-shirt. She’d gone on a two-hour power walk to encourage mood-elevating chemicals.
It hadn’t worked.
“It’s her!” the brunette reporter barked as she stepped onto the sidewalk and the mob converged, the brunette leading the charge. She waved a microphone in front of Elizabeth’s face.
“Did you know Zander Freedman was lip-syncing at the charity fundraiser attended by the President?”
Elizabeth blanked her expression. “Where did you get this information?”
“So it’s true?”
“I didn’t say that.” She upped her pace but the encircling mob moved with her. “I asked who your source is.”
“If the information proves true, what would you say?” Even in six-inch heels, the brunette didn’t break stride. “You’ve spent weeks as part of his entourage. Is the claim consistent with the man you’re interviewing?”
“If you want my view of Zander Freedman…” Elizabeth gestured for a gap and reluctantly, people shuffled aside. “Then read the book when it’s published.”
She ran, taking the stairs two at a time and locking her door with the chain before phoning Zander. His cell went straight to message. Fanning out her sweat-dampened T-shirt, she tried Dimity. The same thing happened. Of course, they’d be in damage control. She telephoned the house. Nobody picked up.
Throwing her cap on the bed, Elizabeth combed her fingers through her tangled hair and tried to think. She could go over there, but the media would have the place under siege. And she was reluctant to talk to the press. Even if she did lie about what she knew—and she really, really didn’t want to—her face would give her away. She’d do Zander more harm than good. And if his response to all this was playing it down and laughing it off, then rushing to his rescue would be counterproductive.
Slowly, she sank into a chair. Not to mention that it would encourage Zander to think she might give him another chance. She’d removed herself very deliberately from his inner circle and if he perceived any crack in her resolve, he’d be in like a thief. The man she loved was no respecter of boundaries.
Time and time again she’d had this argument with herself, but she knew in her heart—her grieving, bruised, broken heart—that she had to protect herself because she couldn’t trust Zander to. No matter how much she wished otherwise.
She phoned his cell again and left a message. “The press came to my hotel. Let me know how you’re handling this and what I should say. And… I love you… Hang in there.”
* * *
“It’s true,” Zander told his PA and his manager. He dropped his booted feet on the library desk, careless of the mahogany. “All true. I lip-synced the national anthem because my voice is fucked. I’m having surgery within the week and we can get a statement from the specialist verifying that. No touring for three months at least. Assuming I’ll still be able to sing—it’s doubtful.” The numbness continued to work for him, providing a buffer between himself and the world.
He waited for that inner voice to say, “Hell yeah, you’ll still be able to sing,” but it was silent.
Dimity paled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He thought of Elizabeth. “I’m getting better at minimizing collateral damage.”
“You said I was family,” she said.
“Dimity, you know how I treat family.” He tried to say it kindly, but it came out flippant.
Without a word, she left the room. Zander didn’t try to stop her. He needed practice letting the women he loved go. His manager said nervously, “How do you want to handle this?”
“Tell the truth, Robbie,” he said cheerfully. “The truth shall set you free. And we might as well admit I’ve been struggling through the last concerts. The way my life’s going lately, it’s bound to come out.”
Zander switched on his cell. “I’ll contact Moss, Jared and Seth. You phone the promoters. Thank God we have insurance. Once our people have been informed, I’ll make a statement to the press.”
He paused as Elizabeth’s number flashed up as a missed call and a shaft of grief pierced his numbness. Two hours ago, he would have scrambled to return it. But what do you say to a woman you have nothing to offer but infamy?
Resolutely, Zander returned to scrolling for the band’s numbers.
I’m getting better at minimizing collateral damage.
* * *
“Why didn’t Zee confide in me?” Dimity huddled on the window seat in Elizabeth’s faux colonial room, furiously blotting away tears with a tissue. Half a dozen lay scattered around her, scrunched into indoor snowballs. “I’m his right-hand woman.” She watched forlornly as Elizabeth ripped sachets of coffee, sugar and creamer and poured boiling water into a sturdy white cup. “I feel so betrayed, isn’t that silly?”
“Not silly at all.” Elizabeth brought over the coffee.
Accepting the cup, Dimity gave a shaky laugh. “I’m so sorry, dumping on you like this. I’m only deciding whether to walk away from a job, not a relationship.”
“Don’t leave him.” Sweeping aside tissues, Elizabeth sat beside her. “He needs someone on his side and it can’t be me. It’s tough enough finishing the book with him. I only agreed because…” I love him “…I didn’t want to add to his woes.”
Dimity paused mid-sip, “You knew about the lip-syncing?”
Uh-oh. “Well after the fact.”
Dimity started to cry again and Elizabeth took her cup before she spilled it and passed a fresh tissue.
“He was probably ashamed to tell you,” she said quietly and Dimity glanced up, her tears arrested.
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully, “Zander would be ashamed.” She blew her nose and sighed. “Even if I stay, he’s suggesting I take leave until this blows over and we both know I’m hopeless with free time. And what if the surgery doesn’t work? Zander said if a job opportunity comes up in the meantime I should take it… Does he want me to resign?”
“Back up… What’s this about the surgery?”
“You don’t know?” Dimity’s reddened eyes widened. “He found out this morning that the damage to his singing voice could be permanent.”
Elizabeth fumbled to put the cup on the sill and splashes of coffee pooled on the white paint. “Zander must be devastated.” I don’t know how to do anything else.
“He’s acting weird,” the PA frowned. “Detached.”
Shock, Elizabeth thought, feeling it herself.
“But then he’s crazy busy trying to manage the fallout from all this. That reminds me…” Opening her bag, Dimity produced an envelope. “He gave me a note for you.”
Elizabeth tore it open.
If you have to talk to the press, you’re as shocked and horrified as everyone else and waiting for my explanation. DO NOT come to the house. DO NOT allow yourself to be drawn into defending me out of some misguided do-gooder impulse. You’ll be crucified. If you really want to help, return to New Zealand and give me one less person to worry about. I’ll be in touch.
There wasn’t a signature.
Elizabeth looked up. “He’s trying to protect me,” she said slowly.
She handed the note to Dimity, who read it and said, “I’m an idiot,” in her usual voice—her battle voice—and excused herself to wash her face.
Elizabeth was glad of a private moment. She picked up the note and reread it. In his darkest hour, Zander was trying to protect her and she loved him for it.
She loved him.
All her life she’d kept parts of herself tucked away from public view—her competitiveness, her need to be loved, her sexual earthiness. Maybe that came from growing up a minister’s daughter, maybe she’d been born that way.
And yet, almost effortlessly, Zander had tempted her into writing his memoir and then tempted her into his bed. Right from the start he’d accepted her for who she was. A human being, complex and full of contradictions. And in return she wanted a guarantee that he would never hurt her.
Dimity rushed out of the bathroom, waving her cell. “Turn on the TV… Channel Six. Zee’s talking to the press.”
Elizabeth scrambled for the remote and started flicking through the channels.
“Why would he do this?” Dimity raved. “We’ve done no rehearsal, no brainstorming. It’s a recipe for disaster.”
Zander appeared on the screen, standing outside the main gates, looking pale and drawn. “…told only the people I required for technical support. I informed the gala organizers at the last minute, because I didn’t want them bearing any responsibility for my decision to lip-sync. My vocals were unreliable and I did what I thought was right for the charity.”
A volley of questions flew at him like arrows. “Faking the national anthem in front of our vets, the President, was the right thing to do?”
“Under the circumstances, yes.”
Dimity groaned and started watching through her fingers.
“I couldn’t trust my voice to deliver and the vets needed the funds raised.” There was another barrage of questions. “One at a time.” Zander pointed to another reporter. “You.”
“How bad could your vocals really be? You went on to perform another three concerts.”
“I had backup from the band and the crowd.”
“You mean you let fans who paid good money do all the work?”
“I give one hundred and ten percent in every concert. But if any fan feels they didn’t get their money’s worth, I’ll personally reimburse their ticket price.”
Elizabeth stared at the screen. She’d been looking at this all wrong. She’d told everyone—including herself—that she avoided commitment because she didn’t want to be stuck, but really she was terrified of failure. She’d fallen in love, fallen hard, and Zander had hurt her, just as she’d feared. But she could get up and try again. Like he always did. We’re worth it.
Agitated, Dimity stood. “I have to get back there.”
Elizabeth switched off the television and picked up her bag. “I’m coming with you. Screw the consequences.”
“You sound like Zander and right now that’s not a good thing.” The PA stared at her, perplexed. “This is one helluva moment to discover you really love him.”
Elizabeth was already at the door, checking the floor plan that outlined the fire exits. “I’ve loved him for weeks. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.” If they took the back stairs they could bypass any press still lurking outside.
“And now you’re going to admit it to the lynch mob outside? Wow.”
Elizabeth swung around and said hotly, “What’s the alternative? Leave him to swing in the breeze?”
“Let him protect you.”
“But—”
“Let him protect you.” Dimity led her away from the door. “It’s one of the few things Zee has any control over and he needs it. If you show up before he fixes this, I can tell you categorically, he’ll reject you. I mean, he’s been trying to reject me and I’m his right-hand woman.”
Elizabeth looked at her blankly.
“Zander’s note said, ‘One less person to worry about.’ Don’t you see?” she added happily. “He’s trying to protect us all.”
“But not alone.” Elizabeth opened the door. Dimity closed it.
“You’re staying here.”
She bristled. “Why do you get to stand by his side and I don’t?”
“Ultimately I’m dispensable,” Dimity said briskly. “Zander only needs me in the short term. But he’ll need you for the rest of his life.” She pinned Elizabeth’s reluctant gaze. “You’re playing the long game. Play it smart.”
Frustration built. The PA was right. “You’re not dispensable,” she grumbled.
“You won’t get round me with sweet talk.”
“Ugh!” Elizabeth threw her handbag onto the bed.
“Good girl.” Dimity gave her a quick, fierce hug. “Hang tight, I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“You’d better.” Elizabeth opened the door. “Now go stand by my man.”