The Sparkling One

“I don’t know. I guess I’m really busy. Why don’t you take someone else to the movies?”



“What? I don’t have anyone to go with.”



“Really?” Annoyance turned to anger. She folded her arms over her chest. “That’s not what I heard. Let me give you a word of advice, David. When you’re engaged, it’s a really stupid idea to take another girl to a club and then spend the entire night trying to suck out her tonsils. People talk. Word gets around. It gets back to me.”



David flushed but didn’t retreat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no other girl.”



“So this Julie person is just a close friend?”



“We hang out.”



He was so lying, she couldn’t believe it. “Just get out of here. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”



His face paled. “Mia, no. We have to talk. I love you.”



She could feel the warm gold of her engagement ring. As she turned it and squeezed her hand closed, the small diamond cut into her palm.



“This isn’t my definition of love.”



He looked at her for a long time, then shook his head. “You’re wrong about me. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”



Nice words, she thought, trying to harden her heart to them. The problem was, even though he’d acted like an ass, she still cared about him. She wanted to forgive him. But wanting and being able to were two different things.



He walked out of the kitchen. Seconds later the front door opened, then closed. Mia dropped her head and told herself to let it go for now. She would take some time and think about what she wanted, then meet with David again. Together they would come to some rational, logical decision.



Which sounded good, but didn’t do a thing for the knot in her stomach and the ache in her heart. First Jeff had cheated on Brenna and now David had cheated on her. Were all men lying weasel dogs?



Fifty hours until show time, Katie thought as she walked through the main ballroom of the hotel. The tables were in place, but not set. The tents were up, as were the game booths. She had already toured the gardens, which were in perfect shape. The morning of the party, the gardeners would give the area a once-over, tidying any wayward bushes, sweeping the paths and raking the leaves.



She compared the table layout with the master diagram on her clipboard and carefully counted. Exactly right, she thought when she finished. The decorations were in place, the lighting had been fixed so that no one had to suffer with a spotlight in his or her eyes. The stage had been pushed into the corner and the various bands and musical groups had been confirmed. Check, check, and triple check.



She walked toward the kitchens to go over the food one more time. She pushed open one of the swinging double doors and found most of the kitchen staff gathered around three large workstations. All the head chefs were there, as were their assistants.



Jerome looked up and saw her. “Katie!” he said with delight. “Always compulsively thorough.” He pressed his hands to his chest. “Worry shortens the life.”



“I worry so my clients don’t have to. In my line of work, compulsively thorough means ‘wildly successful’.”



He nodded to one of the other chefs and moved toward her. “All right. I’ll volunteer to go through the food with you before you even ask me,” he said, taking her arm. “How’s that?”



“Very nice of you. Most brilliant chefs are far more temperamental.”



“I know. My goodness is a curse. People take advantage of me.”



“And then you threaten them with a deboning knife.” She glanced back at the crowd of kitchen workers. “What’s going on here? You haven’t booked another big event, have you? Jerome, there’s not room for—”



He plucked a perfect strawberry from a tray and pressed it between her lips.



“Eat,” he commanded. “And don’t worry. There are no other parties scheduled until Sunday afternoon, and by then you’ll be long gone. This tonight”—he motioned to the collection of people gathered around the work tables—“is our menu tasting. We’re working on developing some new dishes for the hotel’s fine dining room. I like to get opinions from all the staff before making the final decision.”



“Okay.”



“More than okay. We’ll be so inspired by our tasting that for the next forty-eight hours, we’ll work feverishly to make your party brilliant.”



“It’s getting a little deep in here, Jerome, and I’m wearing open-toed shoes.”



He laughed, took her free hand in his, and kissed her fingers.



She followed him to the huge refrigerators. He opened several doors, showing her trays of meat waiting to be cut into the right size for grilling on skewers. Two more refrigerators contained the vegetables, as well as fruits for chocolate dipping. Against the far wall, seven-foot dollies held trays to deliver the various courses. In the pantry the chocolates from around the world were waiting to be cut into chunks suitable for melting, while several hundred fondue pots were stacked on more dollies.



“The wine has been pulled from the cellar,” he said. “The hard liquor will be delivered in the morning.” He cupped her chin, squeezed, then released her. “Fear not, bright angel. Nothing will go wrong. I promise to make your party perfect.”



“I appreciate that,” she told him. “I do my best to stay calm before big events, but this one is downright huge. I want to make it a success.”



“We both have a lot on the line. I won’t let you down, my darling girl.” He grinned. “Now, is there any way I can convince you to join us for the tasting? I promise you, the food is amazing.”



“No, thanks.” She tapped her clipboard. “I have four million lists to make.”



“Try to get some sleep in the next couple of days. You want to be beautiful for your client.”



“I’ll do my best. Thanks for everything.”



“You’re welcome.”



She closed the cover on her clipboard and waved goodbye as she headed back for the kitchen. She made her way to her car. There was nothing more to be done tonight. In the morning there was a whole new to-do list, phone calls, and the beginning of the countdown. In the morning it would be less than thirty-six hours until show time.



Francesca entered the popular West Side eatery shortly after seven in the evening. In honor of her meeting with Jeff, she’d pulled out one of the only two nice outfits she owned, a sleeveless summery linen dress with a matching short jacket. Forty-five minutes and a very interesting conversation with a man named Earl at a survivalist-spy store in the San Fernando Valley had steered her toward the lightweight personal recorder she’d tucked into her purse. She’d pinned the tiny, voice-activated remote microphone to the neck of her dress, where it was concealed by the edge of the jacket.



Earl had promised three hours of recording time, given her tips on increasing clarity, and offered to help her put on the microphone. She’d refused the latter.



Now, as she made her way through the crowded bar, she tried to convince herself that this was just another one of her psychology experiments. Her entire purpose was to see how someone responded to her, based on appearance. But instead of dressing in a fat suit, or like the great tattooed lady, she was a slightly vampy version of herself.



She’d suffered through an entire day of rollers to get her long hair to cascade in thick curls. Makeup accentuated her green eyes, lip liner made her mouth look bigger, and she’d enhanced her natural assets with a push-up bra.



All a disguise, she thought, trying not to feel sick to her stomach. What had seemed like a great idea at the time, was becoming more and more problematic. Had Katie been right? Should she and Brenna have thought this through more?



Before she could decide, she spotted Jeff at a table by the window. He saw her as well, stood and waved. She waved back and walked through the crowd.



She hadn’t seen her brother-in-law since Christmas. He was still pleasant-looking with sandy-colored hair and pale blue eyes. The mustache was new, as was the absence of a wedding band. Only a couple of inches taller than her own five feet nine, Jeff wasn’t a big guy. With her wearing heels, they were the same height.



“Francesca,” he said, sounding delighted. “I’m so pleased you called.”



She forced herself to take the hands he offered and squeeze them. When he leaned close, she did the same and let him kiss her cheek. The light contact made her skin crawl.



“It’s been way too long since I’ve seen you,” she said, sliding into the seat across from him and smiling. “Okay, you and Brenna are splitting up, but after having you as a part of the family for nine years, I didn’t want to let you walk away without saying something.”



“My feelings exactly.”



The waitress appeared. Francesca ordered white wine. When they were alone, she smiled at Jeff. “How’s business?”



“Great. Frantic, but I’m learning more every day. There are amazing advances in cardiac medicine. The practice is one of the biggest on the West Side. All those lawyers and movie producers. Excellent insurance.”



“It’s important to get paid,” she agreed.



His pale eyebrows rose slightly. “Was that a crack?”



No, but she wouldn’t mind thwacking him over the head with a heavy book. “What? Oh, sorry.” She smiled. “No. Of course not. You know me—I can’t ever be subtle. Besides, I’m still a struggling grad student. I’m impressed by those who can make the big bucks.” She leaned toward him. “You worked hard, Jeff. All those years of study and the long hours. You deserve your success.”



He relaxed and patted her hand. “Thanks. I’m glad you understand. I figured the entire family would be talking about hiring someone to rub me out.”



“My grandfather maybe, but the rest of us understand.”



“Really?”



“Sure. I mean, I really love my sister, but she’s not the easiest person in the world to get along with.” Francesca gave a laugh. “I shared a room with her for eighteen years. I know what I’m talking about.”



The waitress appeared with her wine, which was really lucky because Francesca was close to gagging. She’d always liked Jeff, but those feelings had faded. Now she thought he was smarmy and self-important.



She sipped her wine, then stared deeply into his eyes. “Are you doing okay?”



“Sure.”



“No. I mean…really. I’ve been worried about you.”



Jeff’s pale eyes brightened. “So you haven’t written me off?”



“Of course not. We’ve always had a special relationship.” She swallowed hard. “Like brother and sister.”



She carefully put her hand back on the table, palm down. Jeff covered it with his. She managed not to jerk away.



“More than that,” he said.



She wanted to gag. She wanted to throw her drink in his face. Instead she sighed softly.



“So how’s your love life?” he asked.



“Pathetic.” At least that much was true. “Between school and teaching and studying, I don’t get out much. That’s why I’m really excited you wanted to see me tonight.”



His thumb moved across the back of her hand. “You should come down to L.A. more often. We could hang out.”



“I wouldn’t want to get in the way.”



“You could never do that.” He stared at her. “Francesca, you’re so beautiful. I might have been married to Brenna, but that didn’t stop me from looking.”



Oh, man. She could feel his slime oozing across the table. Blech. This was disgusting. She swallowed the need to spit, and smiled instead. “At me? But I’m so skinny and awkward. Brenna was always the Earth Mother. Those damn curves of hers. I wanted what she had.”