Guarding Miranda (10 page)

“What a man!” Lynn continued, eyes full of wonder. “So big and strong and—“

“-far too old for you, Lynn,” said Nancee to Miranda’s laughter as she cleared away her dessert bowl. “Goodness, girl – he’s thirty-six!”

“He’s perfect!” She countered with a sigh.  

Nancee laughed. “Get your head out of the clouds and help me clear the table.”

At the sound of the front door closing, Miranda rose from her chair and helped the bantering Gundy women with the clearing of the table.  She managed to grasp the salad bowl firmly in her right hand, for all the uselessness her left arm was in its sling.

With her free left arm she grasped a salad dressing by the neck.

“So?” Asked Lynn, eyes sparkling, face full of mischief.

“So what?” Miranda replied, walking with her to the huge gourmet kitchen.

“What did you think of Brian?”

“He was all right, Lynn.  Very polite, very gracious.  Seemed intelligent enough and quite capable of carrying his end of a conversation.”

Her cousin rolled her young eyes skyward. “I meant his
body
, Miranda. His
body!
  Isn’t he to
die
for?”

“Sure, he’s attractive, yeah but he’s no Richard.” Her voice lowered to echo the painful ache in her heart. “There was only one Richard.”

“Yes, Richard.” Lynn fought to keep the grimace off of her face.

Like her mother, she was privy to a certain amount of truth about Miranda’s former fiancé. 

Swallowing that unflattering truth, Lynn instead forced a wide, false smile and said, “He was... definitely one of a kind.”

Lynn turned her back on her cousin and frowned into the dishwasher. 

How long was she expected to keep the secret from Miranda? 

Richard had been a criminal of the worst sort, his plans for her cousin nefarious ones. 

His ties to the drug underworld had very nearly cost Miranda her life.

She chewed the pink lip gloss from her lower lip as she considered telling Miranda what a bastard her fiancé had truly been, in life. 

It seemed such a shame to Lynn, that a woman so attractive, so full of life would be in such deep and painful mourning for a lout who would have seen her death as a means to collect a small fortune in insurance money. 

If not to collect the fortune Miranda had inherited from her parents’ estate and the twenty percent stake in COSSCO as well!

“Bastard.” Lynn muttered, under her breath.

“Pardon?” Miranda wore a mask of confusion on her furrowed brow.

“Stubbed my toe,” the red head lied, though in her mind she silently damned Richard Alba to the Hell that he deserved.

Chapter Five

It was the fourth time Miranda had been mugged by reporters since leaving the hospital. 

As the only heir to the Fowler family fortune she was very much the Silicon Valley equivalent of royalty and therefor the public property of the kingdom of San Francisco. Her father had co-founded COSSCO with her uncle and so Miranda had been raised in the public eye.

The tragic death of her parents and brother in her sixteenth year had been further fuel for the fire that burned in the heart of the public. 

Everybody loved a tragedy.

Images of her grieving her loss had been plastered across newspapers and magazines alike. 

The tabloids had made fortunes from her tears, her loss.

Now, it was the death of Richard augmented by news of her own injury that was bringing her yet another claim to fame on gossip blogs and paparazzi websites.

Speculation made in the past week that his shipping business had criminal ties had resulted in the gathering of newshounds at the Gundy’s residence at Fifteen Micmac Crescent, waiting to capture an image of her in her state of mourning.

She had yet to make a comment to the media.

Their public eagerly awaited her reaction to the scandal. 

There were few things San Francisco loved more than a scandal. 

Especially a Silicon Valley scandal...

Miranda was in a surly mood as a result.

The night after supper with Brian, she had left the house with Lynn to go shopping for a friend’s bridal shower. 

They had not even made it to Lynn’s Mitsubishi Eclipse before the cameras started flashing. 

The paparazzi had come from out of thin air, a horde of them, brandishing video cameras and digital cameras, their barrage of shouted questions audible even in the confines of Lynn’s car. 

Careful not to run anyone over, Lynn had sped away as hastily as she dared, leaving them behind in a squeal of road-hugging tires.

It was the beginning of what was going to be a very bad day for Miranda.

Everywhere she went, she saw the headlines.

Alba Enterprises - Shipping Crime Syndicate!

Illegal Drug Exports Behind Death of Richard Alba, Criminal Mastermind

Richard Alba, Cocaine Prince!!!

It was enough to make Miranda ill. 

She had never been one to follow too closely the reports of the local tabloids but what really bothered her was that some of the headlines were being boasted by legitimate, reputable newspapers. 

The kind of newspapers that she read her stock quotes in. 

Even the L.A. Times was reporting a recently uncovered link between her murdered fiancé and the drug trade.

Now, coming home from a long day of shopping with her compulsive shopper of a cousin, Miranda was as exhausted as she was upset. 

Upset that the reporters were considering that she herself might have ties to the drug underworld, which of course, did not exist...

Upset that there were such grievous lies being printed about her beloved Richard...

Upset that the entire world now entertained the belief that Richard’s death was the result of his dealings with the San Francisco underworld.

Lynn had maintained an uncomfortable silence, asking Miranda what she would do if the rumors were true, if it turned out that Richard really
had
been involved in the drug trade.

“How can you suggest such a thing?” Miranda had angrily snapped, as they dined on fine seafood at Riana’s. “Richard was harmless, a gentleman at every turn, despite all odds.  He would never be caught dead with a parking ticket, let alone be involved in a drug deal.  It’s lies, all horrible lies!”

Apologizing for her suggestion, Lynn had immersed herself again in silence, at odds with the secrets her father had demanded she keep. 

Lynn knew that when Miranda learned the truth, she was going to be very angry at them all.  Angry that they had kept her in the dark for so long, angry that they had kept her in mourning, in ignorance, even when the world around her knew more about the truth then she did.

Lynn shuddered as they drove down the street leading to Micmac Crescent, glad to see no sign of news van or cameraman in sight. 

Miranda was out of the car before Lynn had even put it into park, her purchases in her right hand as she stomped toward the front door. 

It seemed she was still upset about the comment Lynn had made. 

Locking the doors behind her, her own purchases in hand, Lynn sighed and left her shiny red sports car to follow her cousin inside.

Miranda was trembling with anger as she approached her uncle Russ. 

His twinkling blue eyes were alarmed as they sized up his irate young niece.

“I was ambushed!” Miranda exclaimed, exasperated. “Did Aunt Nancee tell you about the reporters this morning?”

“According to the housekeeper, there have been calls all day,” said Russ, a look of consternation on his normally merry face. “You seem so upset.  Is everything all right?”

“Alright? Uncle, did you read this morning’s paper?” She asked, dropping her shopping bags at her feet. “The Times?”

“With breakfast, as usual,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Did you read what they’re saying about Richard?”

“I did.” He breathed in a deep, steadying breath and slowly exhaled, knowing fully well that it was time to tell her the truth.  The truth that the papers had only begun to hint at. “I think it’s time you knew...”

“
Russ!
” Nancee stood in the living room entrance, her small, lithe body tense with warning. “I need your help with something in the den.”

Russ brought his shoulders up in argument. “But-”

“
Now
, please,” said his wife, firmly. 

Miranda recognized her aunt’s no-nonsense tone and had to wonder what her summons was about. 

When next she saw her uncle Russ, it was just before supper. 

He looked as defeated as she herself felt.

“What was it you had to tell me?” She asked him. “What did I have to know?”

His tiny but forceful wife had made the decision for him. 

They weren’t going to tell Miranda what Richard had been planning. 

Not now, not ever. 

They were going to preserve her memory of her fiancé and hope that she got over him soon, so that she could get on with her life.

He glanced at Nancee before clearing his throat of guilt and replying, “I honestly can’t recall.  Oh well.” He forced a smile. “If it’s important enough, it will come back to me.”

Miranda rubbed at her sore arm. “Uncle Russ, I thought you should know, I’m considering leaving San Francisco for a while.”

“Why?” Asked Nancee, a wary smile on her face.

“The tabloids, the reporters.” Miranda explained, taking her seat at the table. “The looks on everyone’s faces. Irritated questions like:
Are you alright? Do you miss him?
” She felt like she was going to break down at any moment. “I’m sick of being hounded.  It’s only a matter of time before they start suggesting that I’m a drug princess with Mafia ties.  The more scarce I am in the spotlight, the less chance they’ll have of implicating me and the less likely my face will show up in print. I want nothing in the world more to be a hermit right now, to be left alone to heal and reflect and feel like I know what the Hell I want to do next.”

Now that my fiancé’s dead,
she added silently, wanting to cry but so sick of crying that she balked at the thought.

“Where were you going to go?” Asked Nancee, seating herself next to her niece, concern written in every line of her small face.

“I really don’t care where, so long as it’s far away from here.  I don’t feel like Mexico or Europe this time...” She turned her glance on her uncle. “I was thinking you could suggest something.  One of your cabins maybe... The one in Colorado, your hobby ranch in Montana or the cabin up in Canada?”

“Well,” began Russ, “the one in Colorado is in use by COSSCO heads right now, for a sort of business retreat.  I don’t have the ranch any more – we never seemed to make use of it – so I sold it this past spring. Montana’s out.”

“What about the one in Canada?  Canadians are supposed to be nice, aren’t they? Our friendly neighbors in the North?” Miranda knew that she was making a bold generalization. “And from the look of the photos you showed me that cabin is in a pretty remote place.” 

“Well, remote compared to what you’re used to here in San Fran, anyway.” Russ smiled at her. “It’s not exactly a fly-in fishing lodge or anything. It’s remote in a sense, nice and quiet on a large piece of private land, the people there are friendly enough and a helpful lot, very respectful of a person’s privacy.” He considered what she was proposing. “It’s good that you’re quite adept at use of watercraft because if you still like fishing as much as you did when you were a teenager, I’d say you’d enjoy yourself quite nicely. There’s a small fishing boat. A canoe.” He had a thoughtful, wistful expression on his face. “It’d be a nice respite, lots of peace and quiet and rest and relaxation. Thinking about it’s got me thinking I should make a trip out there, come hunting season.”

Miranda was elated by the idea. “Is it set up? Electrical? Phone? Plumbing?”

“All that and more. Security system too. Kind of need one, I left some valuables behind. Hunting trophies and the guns I shot them with.” He scratched his chin and added, “The weather’ll be nice up there, right through to the end of August, beginning of September.  If you’re still there, imagine I’ll pop in for a weekend of fishing around the first week in August, like I always do.  You and I could make an adventure of it. Go up that river as far as it runs, see what we can see.” 

Nancee looked worried and decided to put her two cents in. “The only thing is, do you really want to be that far north? In a town so small?  So isolated?”

“She’s right, Miranda.” Russ scratched his chin again. “Waterhen only has about three hundred residents.  It doesn’t even show up on some maps. You’d be an hour away from the nearest McDonald’s or Walmart. Dauphin’s the nearest. An hour’s drive.” He shrugged. “So I guess you should weigh this carefully.”

“Furthermore,” Nancee continued, “Waterhen, Manitoba is no San Francisco, California, Miranda.  They won’t even have a doctor, never mind a physiotherapist.”

“But Dauphin will,” Russ added, reassuringly. “It’s the closest thing they have to a city, like I said, about an hour’s drive away.  They would have everything you need there, a hospital, pharmacies, et cetera. You can look them up on the Internet, see if you think they have the services you’ll need.”

“
Waterhen
.” Miranda found she liked the sound of the place, the feel of it on her tongue.

“The cabin is actually more of a log home than an actual cabin,” Russ assured her. “Fully wired, with telephone and satellite.  There’s even Internet, you would just have to bring your laptop.  They weren’t expecting me back til Fall but I could have the services hooked up for you in no time.”

“The cabin is really secluded, though.” Lynn warned me. “I went there when I was ten.  There was no cell service. It sucked.”

“No cell service?
That sounds heavenly
.” Miranda insisted, beginning to really warm up to the idea of going. “They probably don’t even know who Miranda Fowler is up there.”

Russ also looked pleased with the idea. “To be honest with you, kiddo, even if they do know, they probably won’t really care. Like I said, they respect people’s need for privacy up there.  They’re down to Earth, grounded, salt-o’-the-Earth people. Farmers and fishermen, guides and hunters. I know a few locals who would keep an eye out for you, take you to the best fishing holes, that sort of thing.”

“Sounds like heaven!” Miranda repeated, her green eyes bright with enthusiasm. “A nice, quiet little town where I can get some respite and some fishing in. A place where there’s a pretty good chance no one will even know who I am.”

Russ smiled at his niece. “Like I said, the weather’s nice through September. Even October’s pretty bearable.” 

Miranda felt her spirits uplifted by the mere thought of it. “So maybe I catch a little sun, read a few good books... all in the company of mild mannered Canadians who will let me mind my own business.  No one from the Times would even think to look for me there.” With a smile that was pure anticipation, she decided: “I’ll start packing tonight.”

“What about Terry-Anne’s bridal shower this weekend?” Lynn pouted.

Miranda considered the shopping bag in her room. “You helped me pick a gift for her.  Give her the lingerie and give her my best.”

“You’re sure about this, Miranda?” Russ fixed her with an analytical glance and saw only the faintest shadow of doubt cross her lovely face. “Like Nancee said, Waterhen’s only got about three hundred people-”

“-good.” The look of conviction in Miranda’s intelligent green eyes was one of near desperation. “I have to leave before those reporters make me lose my mind.  That and before I have the chance to change my mind.”

Nancee sighed in resignation. “I can see your mind is made up, darling.  But keep in mind, there are a million places in the world where you could go to avoid the press.  You don’t have to go to Waterhen just because it’s the first opportunity that presents itself. You don’t have to make an impulsive decision.”

“I know.” Miranda chose her words carefully, so as not to insult her loving aunt. “And I understand why you’re concerned but it seems to me like this little cabin at the edge of nowhere is the breath of fresh air I’m looking for.”

Russ gave a hearty laugh. “Well, there’s no shortage of fresh air out there, I’ll tell you that. I’ll GoogleMaps you directions to the town itself and draw you a map to the cabin.  As I said, places like this aren’t exactly on a map.” His blue eyes sparkled with fond memories. “Come see me in my study in about an hour – I’ll get out the keys, make the call to get the phone service reconnected down there and all that sort of thing.”

“Thanks, Uncle Russ.” Miranda beamed at him, hugging him with hr free arm.  She would thrown her arms around him, if not for the fact that her left arm was still in a sling. “I appreciate it.”

“I know that you do.” Russ grinned at her and headed upstairs to his study.

Lynn scowled at Miranda, unable to believe that her cousin was missing a friend’s bridal shower to instead sulk and hide in that God forsaken cabin her father loved so.

“Do you own any bug spray?” She asked.

“Yes.” Miranda thought it an odd question. “Why?”

“Be sure to pack it,” Lynn huffed. “Because believe me, if you’re going to Waterhen
you’re going to need it
.”