Chapter Sixteen
Pippa stood beside Phi as Nate got to work. It was a beautiful thing to behold. His broad shoulders flexed and released beneath the official mud color of his sheriff’s uniform shirt. What the man did for a pair of chinos ought to be illegal.
Phi leaned toward her. “If it doesn’t work out with Matt, you could always tap that.”
“They’re brothers.” Pippa choked back a snort of laughter.
“I had a set of brothers once.” Phi got a dreamy smile on her face. “Spaniards. Three of them. Hung like—”
“You’re sure there’s nothing missing from the rest of the house?” Nate turned around, his cheeks red.
“I’m sure.” Phi nodded. “I checked all my jewelry again this morning, but if you would care to come up to my boudoir and verify, I could be persuaded to let you.”
The tips of Nate’s ears went red as he cleared his throat.
“Ignore her.” Pippa took pity on the poor guy. As sheriff, he must get hit on fifty times a day. If she wasn’t so hot for his brother, she might be buying a cat and tossing it up a tree on a regular basis.
Nate let loose with a panty-dropping smile in Phi’s direction. “I’m not man enough for the Diva.”
“Nobody is, darling.” Phi let go a window-rattling trill. “But I keep trying until I find one.”
Nate’s blush spread to his cheeks. “Can you give me a description of the missing items?”
“Sure.” Pippa motioned him over to the sofa. “Why don’t I get us some coffee and Phi can tell you what they look like.”
Phi chuckled like a gutter whore. Panic flashed across Nate’s face. “I’ll get the coffee.” She pushed Pippa toward the sofa. “You stay and make eyes at the sheriff. I see he brought his handcuffs.”
“She doesn’t mean it,” Pippa said as Phi floated out of the room. “She does it to get a reaction.”
Nate breathed out low. “And she gets it. Every time.”
Pippa got down to describing the missing pieces.
Nate wrote it all down, his hand crabbed awkwardly around the pencil as it crept across the page. She slowed down so he could stay with her.
“Sorry.” He glanced up at her. “I suck at writing.”
“I could . . .”
A hard glance shut her up again. Nate didn’t want help. Matt must have had his hands full managing all that testosterone when they were both teens.
Matt hadn’t called or texted, and she was getting a needy-girl feeling. Even worse than Matt not calling was her obsessing about it. They were taking things easy. No promises, no commitment, just scratching an old itch. Checking her phone like a crushing tween was so not part of the plan. It sat like a cold lump in her gut.
She’d already checked her phone about sixteen times. Only one call, and it was from a number she didn’t recognize. Notifications from Twitter were growing like weeds. The support warmed the cold place Ray had left inside her. Phi came back in, and brought the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee with her. Tucked beside the coffee was a plate with June’s latest batch of cookies. Looked like every woman in this town fed the sheriff. Not that it showed. Pippa would lay money on a set of washboard abs under that shirt. They must run in the family, because she knew from personal experience, his older brother had a killer set.
Nate left after painstakingly writing down every missing item. He gulped down his coffee and ate most of the plate of cookies on his way out.
Phi excused herself to go and manage June—more like pester June into bickering with her.
Pippa checked the unknown number again. They’d left a message. It was probably another of the sleazy tabloids trying to find a way to reach her. Then again, maybe one of her contacts had grown a pair. A lot of them had unlisted numbers.
Pippa retrieved the message.
“Hi, Pippa. This is Chris Germaine. My people showed me the YouTube clip, and now the disastrous Twitter thing . . .” The message broke into Chris Germaine’s signature chuckle. Holy shit, it really was Chris Germaine. “I know you are probably hiding from the media, but please give me a call. I have something interesting I want to chat to you about. It will be worth your while.”
Pippa dropped onto the sofa as the voice on the message recited a number and repeated it. Mohamed, that thing in front of you is the mountain and it’s coming your way. Holy, holy, holy shit. She checked the time. New York was two hours ahead, but it was still the middle of the afternoon there.
Pippa had to key in the number three times as her fingers fumbled. Even then, she hit one wrong number and got Salvatore’s Pizzeria instead. Finally, the call clicked through. “Hi, if you have this number, you know who this is. Leave me a message.”
The beep caught her wrong-footed. “Um, hi, Chris. Germaine. Ms. Germaine.” You’re such a dork. Get it together. “This is Pippa Turner.” Damn, shit, fuck. “I mean, you know me as Pippa St. Amor, because that’s my stage name. Actually, it’s my grandmother’s stage name. She’s really—” Get. A. Grip. “I’ll shut up now. I’m . . . uh . . . returning your call.”
Sweat trickled down her sides as she ended the call. “Well, you just made a dick of yourself,” she said to the empty room. Hopefully, Chris Germaine was used to that sort of thing. You didn’t get to be such a huge household name without dealing with ridiculous fangirling.
She picked up her phone to call Matt and tell him. First, the amazing news about who had called her, and second to make him laugh at her phone message. Her finger hovered over his contact. Did taking it light mean she could call him for a chat, to share her news? Screw it. She wanted to talk to him. They were friends . . . with benefits . . . maybe. She hit his contact.
Voice mail again. “Hi, it’s Pippa. You’ll never believe what I just did. Call me when you get a chance. Or not. Whatever. Okay. Bye.” It must be her day for lame voice messages.
What Twitter thing? Pippa replayed Chris Germaine’s message. Disastrous? God, she’d have enough “disastrous” to last a lifetime. Her Twitter notifications had invited all their friends and family and were multiplying faster than bacteria. Seven hundred and twelve! No, make that one thousand and three.
Big Ben chimed from the front door.
“Good morning, Pippa.” Her mother smiled from beside Laura. “Sorry to drop in unannounced, but we thought we might have a chat.”
Alarm bells clanged in Pippa’s brain. I thought we might have a chat about your behavior today. I thought we might have a chat about that boy I saw you with. I thought we might have a chat about your clothing.
Laura’s smug expression sealed the deal on doom. Pippa led them into the salon. “I’ll go and get Phi.”
She glanced at her phone. No way. That couldn’t be right. Twitter must be broken or something because the notification number in the little red circle next to the app kept climbing.
“Actually.” Emily perched on the edge of an armchair, back clear of the rest, legs neatly folded to one side. “We thought we might speak with you alone for a minute.”
Laura sat exactly the same way as their mother. It was like one of those age progression photo series.
Emily drew a plastic folder from her Kate Spade. “Laura and I have been speaking about what you told her.”
Pippa tried to remember the last conversation she’d had with her sister that went past a few snide remarks and the banal.
“About Philomene.” Laura managed to inject a vocal eye roll in there.
“What about Phi?” She itched to open Twitter, but an air of complicity hung about her mother and sister, and if this had to do with Phi, she needed to pay attention.
Emily opened her folder and pulled out a bunch of glossy brochures. “If my mother is no longer able to care for herself, I think we should be looking at alternatives.” She tapped one French manicured finger against a brochure. “I think this one looks best, it has a music program and they arrange for trips to the theater twice a year.”
Pippa tilted her head for a better look. “The Meadows.” Scrolled out in fancy script across the top, “offering assisted living for your loved ones in their twilight years.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Pippa glanced from her mother to Laura and back again. They had to be yanking her chain. The two of them had cooked up some scheme to put Phi in an old age home. Part of her wanted to laugh, but the other part was too pissed off to even force a polite smile.
“She’s getting old.” Laura shrugged as if they were talking about a family dog, and one they didn’t even like very much. “This house is an upkeep nightmare.”
“She has June for that.” Pippa stared at her sister. How they shared blood was a mystery.
“Perhaps not right away.” Her mother slid into the heated silence. “But spots in these facilities don’t come up all that often, and we should get her name down.”
“Mes filles”. Phi arrived in the doorway, resplendent in a buttercup yellow dress with huge red poppies crawling all over it. She must have changed from the lounge suit she was wearing for Nate. “What a lovely surprise. We should have a little cocktail to celebrate.”
“No, thank you, Mother.” Emily’s spine jerked even straighter. “It’s barely past lunchtime and I don’t want a drink.”
“Oh.” Phi’s happy smile dimmed a bit. “Laura?”
“I don’t drink in the afternoon.”
“I’ll join you,” Pippa said. “What will you have?”
Phi’s smile widened. “There’s my girl.”
Battle lines drawn. Laura and Emily on one side, Pippa and Phi on the other. Four grown women who couldn’t be in a room together for two minutes without the universe getting out its magic pen and drawing playbook scrawls all over them.
“I shall mix us up some Manhattans.” Phi strolled over to her large globe bar and flipped open the top. “Are you sure you won’t join Pippa and me?”
“I’m sure.” Emily’s lips disappeared into a tight pucker of disapproval. “Mother, Pippa remarked the other day about some of your bits and pieces going missing.”
Phi measured rye into her cocktail shaker. “Indeed. My treasures seem to be disappearing at an alarming rate.” She replaced the top with a clank, and sailed to the door on a cloud of patchouli. “I shall fetch some ice.”
“They were stolen. You just missed Nate, he was here taking her statement,” Pippa said.
“You called the sheriff?” Laura’s spine snapped straight. “Because our weird grandmother lost some ugly antique crap?”
Pippa saw red for a minute. She glanced down the passage to the kitchen to ensure the baize door was shut. “Phi is as sharp as ever and her treasures are worth a lot of money.”
“You can’t be sure of that.” Emily rearranged the brochures on the table. “She’s eighty.”
“Seventy-eight,” Laura said.
“Sixty-eight.” Pippa glared back at her sister.
Laura snorted. “Please, not even her press agent believes that.”
“If Phi wants to be sixty-eight, then she can be sixty-eight. A woman who dragged herself out of Ghost Falls to become the most renowned diva in the world gets to decide whatever age she wants. As for these”—Pippa snatched up the brochures—“put them away before you upset her.”
“Pippa.” Her mother took the brochures from her. “You aren’t being rational. Your defense of your grandmother is laudable, but not based in reality.”
“Pippa always defends her.” Laura crossed her ankles.
“You’re talking about putting her in a home.” Pippa lowered her voice before Phi heard. “You can’t expect me to sit here and let you do that.”
“That is not your decision, Pippa.” Her mother raised her chin. “She is my mother, whatever you may believe, and I am her primary caregiver.”
“You never see her.”
“And you live in Los Angeles.”
Her mother had her there. “I still spend a lot of time with her and if anyone should know if she needed a care facility, it would be me.”
“You don’t see her for what she is.” Laura sniffed and got to her feet. “You’re so caught up in the diva bullshit it blinds you.”
“It’s not bullshit.” Pippa stood, damned if she’d sit while her sister loomed over her. “She may be a bit over the top, but she is a diva.”
“Was.” Her mother’s quiet voice carried a knife-edge. “Now she is an aging woman living in a monstrosity of a house. Even if she didn’t misplace these items, it still supports my case. Someone is taking advantage of her and she can’t see it.”
“You’re not putting Phi in a home.”
“With all due respect, Pippa”—Laura went to stand beside Emily—“you’re not the one making that decision.”
“No.” Phi’s voice came from the door. Her hands were full of a tray of cocktail glasses and the shaker. She strolled forward and placed the tray on the coffee table. Silence dragged the air out of the room. “I believe the decision maker here is me.” Phi’s face was devoid of emotion. She picked up the shaker and poured two Manhattans. “Emily, dear. I am neither a doddering old fool nor a senile old bat. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t require any help.”
“Mother.” Emily’s face paled. “I am not suggesting that. I merely think it’s time you considered your future.”
“How kind.” Phi passed Pippa her glass.
Pippa nearly chugged the entire thing.
“Pippa, dear.” Phi raised her eyebrow. “I thought we had the discussion about me needing your protection.”
Damn, she’d done it again. Pippa tipped her glass back and took the dregs in one sip. Her eyes teared up on contact. Phi made these things strong enough to drop an elephant.
“You can’t stay in this house on your own forever.” Laura crossed her arms over her chest.
Phi sipped her Manhattan, paused, and gave a happy nod. “Dear, I am rarely alone. I have many friends who come to see me all the time. June takes care of the house, and you bring the lovelies around a few times a week.”
“You know what I mean.” Laura stuck to her course. She was determined, Pippa had to concede that. It also took balls the size of boulders to face down a sweetly smiling Phi. Opera casts and crews the world over had learned a sweet Phi was deadlier than a vitriolic one.
“Yes, I do,” Phi said. “I have become an embarrassment to you and you would like to tidy me away.”
Emily paled and tucked her skirt under her thighs.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Laura threw her hands up. “Do you always have to be so damn dramatic? You’re not embarrassing anyone. We’re worried about you.”
“Like hell you are.” Pippa helped herself to another blast of courage from the cocktail shaker. “You don’t give a crap about Phi. You only come here when you need free babysitting.”
Laura hit her with an eye-searing blast. “And you would know this because you saw it in your crystal ball all the way from LA.”
“My job is in LA.”
“Was, Pippa.” Laura’s mouth turned up in a smug smile. “Your job was in LA before you screwed that up.”
“Girls.” Emily pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “None of this is helping.”
“On the contrary, Emily dear.” Phi lowered herself onto her throne. “I think a touch of honesty around here is very refreshing.”
“You would.” Emily came as close to shouting as she ever did. “You thrive on the drama.”
“Indeed I do.” Phi sipped her drink and leaned her head back. “It beats the tight-lipped, tight-legged approach.”
“Must you always be so vulgar?” Emily rose to her feet. Her hands clenched and unclenched by her sides. “I despise your vulgarity.”
“As did your father,” Phi said.
Laura and Pippa sucked in a breath together as Phi jackbooted straight over sacred ground.
Emily trembled with emotion. Eyes fever bright, her mouth worked before she managed to get any words out. “Don’t you dare speak about my father?”
“He was my husband, dear. I believe that entitles me to talk about him.”
“He was your convenience, until you left him to pursue your career.”
Phi made a small moue with her mouth. “Perhaps, but it still does not make it my fault your husband left you.”
Pippa choked on her Manhattan. Phi had done it now.
“Leave him out of this.” Emily’s hands clenched into fists. If her mother took a swing at Phi, she was going to have to step in.
“Gladly, Emily dear,” said Phi. “When you can do the same.”
“Mark left because he couldn’t stand you!” It burst out of her mother on a jet stream of narrow-eyed fury. “All your drama and performing, all the time.”
“Darling girl.” Phi paled, and put her glass down on the table. “I know you believe that, but maybe he left because being part of a family did not suit him.”
“Wow,” Laura drawled. “Like father, like daughter.”
“Seriously?” Pippa turned to stare at her sister. “You’re going to take this and have a shot at me?”
“If the shoe fits?” Laura shrugged.
“How are the two in any way comparable?” Pippa really wanted to hear how this had gotten twisted in her sister’s mind.
“You left Ghost Falls so fast, we didn’t even spot your dust.” Laura grabbed the shaker and poured herself a glass. “You wanted to be in television, and you couldn’t wait to leave here.” Laura downing Manhattans left Pippa momentarily speechless. “You never stopped to ask if I needed you or Mom needed you.” Laura slammed her glass back down on the tray. “You were out of here too fast to know.”
“You and Mom have never needed me.” Shit, they had each other on their bitch bicycle made for two. “You were the perfect pair. Mom and her mini-me. There was no room for anyone else in your little club of perfect.”
Emily turned to stare at her. “Pippa, I—”
“Of course Mom needed you. You’re her daughter.” Laura’s cheeks were bright red. “She needed every one of those Mother’s Day cards you sent to Philomene. Every call you didn’t make to her, and made to Philomene. And when your life turns to crap, do you ask your mother for comfort? No. You come here. The only person who ever mattered to you was Philomene.”
Emily made a weird whimpering noise and slumped back on the sofa.
Pippa stared, struck too dumb to think. Her mother had Laura. Since they were kids, Laura and her mother. “She had you.”
“And she wanted her other daughter, too.” Laura grabbed for the shaker again. Ice rattled against the stainless steel as she shook the last drop into her glass.
“All those times it was ‘never mind, Laura can do it,’ or ‘Laura will come with me,’” Pippa said. Not once had it been Pippa. Pippa didn’t fit the plan.
“Oh, please, you’ve never had time for Mom or me. We were always too boring for Pippa. All you ever wanted was her.” She jerked her head at Phi. “You didn’t come back here for one of my children’s births. Not one.”
“I sent gifts.” She hadn’t come because she thought Laura would rather eat her own young than have her by her side.
“Great.” Laura threw her a withering glance. She turned to Emily. “I think you should drive. I’ve had enough of this shit.”
Emily trailed Laura to the door. She stopped in the doorway and glanced behind her as if she wanted to say something. Strain pinched the corners of her mouth. Then, Emily turned and followed her daughter to the car.
“Wow.” Pippa turned to look at Phi.
Phi looked devastated. Pale face, eyes haunted, and her shoulders slumped to protect her heart.
Pippa’s chest constricted on a tight squeeze. “Ah, no, Phi, please don’t cry.” Tears stung the back of her eyes. “Because if you do, I will.”
And she burst into tears.