The Third Heiress (7 page)
Authors: Brenda Joyce
“What were the two of you talking about?” he asked ruthlessly.
“I don’t remember!”
“How convenient,” he responded. “Were you arguing?”
Jill knew she had turned white.
“You were arguing,” Alex said quietly, his gaze holding hers. “And I can guess what you were arguing about.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Your family is terrible,” she cried. “You are terrible. I loved Hal! Can’t you see that? Can’t you? You are the coldest person I have ever met! I have lost the man I love,” she shouted at him. “The man I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of!”
“And I’ve lost my cousin. Thomas and Lauren lost their brother, my aunt and uncle have lost their son, God damn it,” he said harshly. “Everyone is shocked, everyone is sick, we are all suffering, damn it.”
Jill backed away from him.
He turned abruptly, his broad shoulders trembling. He was suddenly very angry.
Jill stared at his back. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered finally. He did not turn. “I know you hate me, all of you, but I already hate myself. Please, please don’t do this to me anymore.”
He did not move.
Jill sank back down on the bed. Her hands were shaking—she was shaking. Briefly she covered her face with her palms, but she could not seem to stop trembling, she could not find even a hint of calm. “Tomorrow I’ll find a hotel somewhere.”
Alex faced her. His expression was now implacable. “Forget it. There’s not a decent room available; I had my travel agent working on it all day.”
It was clear that he wasn’t being kind. Was anyone in Hal’s family capable of compassion? she wondered. Very unsteadily, very spontaneously, Jill whispered, “Why aren’t we helping one another now, sharing our anger and our grief, instead of confronting one another like this?”
“Because Hal is dead,” he said simply.
Jill clapped her hands over her mouth, almost bursting into tears. How right he was. Hal was dead, and his legacy was anger and hatred and all of her lies.
“Look, let me take you back to your room,” Alex said. “It’s late and I’m tired.”
Jill did not look up at him. She wasn’t ready to look at him. She didn’t answer him, either.
“You ready?” He cocked his head toward the door. “Even if you can’t sleep, I suggest you get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be one helluva day.”
Jill flinched. Reality crashed over her then, making her forget all about the photograph and Alex’s hateful questions. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they were burying Hal.
“After you,” he said, gesturing for her to precede him out. He touched her arm impatiently.
Jill shrugged him off. She didn’t want him touching her, not even in a casual gesture. And as she moved past him, she wondered how she would get through the next day. She did not know if she had the strength to endure Hal’s funeral.
W
orried about whether or not she had asked her next door neighbor to look after her cat, Jill dialed New York. By her estimation, it was about eight in the evening there. But her neighbor, an unemployed actress, kept very odd hours. She went through jobs the way Madison Avenue women shopped. Jill was relieved when the phone was picked up on the second ring. “KC, this is Jill. I’m calling from London,” Jill said.
orried about whether or not she had asked her next door neighbor to look after her cat, Jill dialed New York. By her estimation, it was about eight in the evening there. But her neighbor, an unemployed actress, kept very odd hours. She went through jobs the way Madison Avenue women shopped. Jill was relieved when the phone was picked up on the second ring. “KC, this is Jill. I’m calling from London,” Jill said.
“Jill! I am so worried about you. How are you?” KC cried.
Jill lay on her back in the huge four-poster bed of her room, holding the phone to her ear. She could envision KC clearly. She was tall and willowy, very attractive, with a heart of gold. Right now, Jill knew her expression was one of utter sympathy. “I’m okay,” she began. Then, “God. I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all.”
“I know,” KC said, her tone ringing with compassion. “Jill, everything will work out—I just know it will, in time.”
Jill didn’t answer. The pain was stabbing through her again. But she knew KC meant what she said. As determined as KC was to become a working actress, she was even more passionate about the spiritual side of her life. She more than dabbled in everything from palmistry to Hinduism. They had met three years ago at a party in SoHo for an opening show. KC was not a guest, she was there to read people’s palms and do tarot card readings. Jill had been talked into allowing KC to do a reading for her by a friend. Extremely dubious, and a little drunk, Jill had sat down opposite the blond.
To Jill’s amazement, KC had taken one look at the cards laid out on the table before her and said, “You are so terribly alone.”
In that excruciating instant, she’d gained Jill’s complete, and suddenly sober, attention.
“You lost your family didn’t you, when you were very young,” she’d continued. Jill had stared, wondering who could have told her that. “And you have never quite gotten over it. But you will.” KC had smiled serenely at Jill. Then her face fell. “But not soon.”
Jill couldn’t remember the rest of the reading, except that it had been
as accurate. KC had mentioned that there was a studio available next to hers when she realized Jill was looking for a new apartment. Within a week, Jill had moved in, and they had quickly become friends.
as accurate. KC had mentioned that there was a studio available next to hers when she realized Jill was looking for a new apartment. Within a week, Jill had moved in, and they had quickly become friends.
“Why don’t you try to see a doctor tomorrow in London?” KC asked now with real concern. “You know how I hate drugs, but in this case, Jill, you shouldn’t have thrown that prescription out.”
Jill guessed she had told KC about tossing the Xanax; she didn’t remember. “I don’t know. Maybe I will. I’m so tired. I can’t remember if I made arrangements for Ezekial.”
“Oh, you did. You asked me to look after him and I brought him to my apartment. He’s underfoot all the time. He misses you.”
Jill smiled slightly. “And how is he getting on with Chiron?” Chiron was KC’s wiry mutt. The mixed terrier had been named after an asteroid.
“He is bullying poor Chiron,” KC said with a laugh.
Jill suddenly imagined the scenario and she laughed, too. It was the very first time she had laughed in days and it felt wonderful. But then she thought about Hal and a woman named Kate Gallagher, about Alex Preston and the Sheldons, and she was grim once again.
KC said, “What’s happened?”
Jill sighed. KC was also very astute—perhaps even psychic. Her intuition could be unsettling at times. Jill kept telling herself it was all coincidence, but on some deep inner level she knew that KC had some kind of extraordinary, extrasensory talent. “I don’t know what I expected, but Hal’s family isn’t very friendly. Of course, they’re all in shock.” She did not tell her that they all blamed her for Hal’s death, it was a topic she just could not raise. “No one believes that Hal and I were serious. I think they see me as some kind of fling. Because I’m this poor, working-class dancer.”
“That sucks,” KC said vehemently. “So Hal’s family isn’t as nice as he seemed to be?”
Jill had been thinking about her encounter with Alex. But KC’s choice of words disturbed her. “Why did you say that?”
“Say what?”
“You said, as nice as Hal seemed to be.”
KC was silent. “It was just a slip of the tongue, I guess. I only met him three times. I didn’t really know him.”
Jill was on alert. “KC, is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Of course not,” KC said, but she was a brutally honest person, and Jill knew she was lying. “Tell me about Hal’s family,” KC said quickly. “I have to go in a minute.”
Jill tried to clear the confusion from her mind. She was too tired to
think straight; there was no reason KC would deceive her. “They’re not nice people,” she finally said. “They’re so rich you would not believe it. This house is a mansion, KC, and it’s across the street from Kensington Palace.” She stopped, about to blurt out that Hal would have been insane to try and bring her home. But she was afraid of what KC might say or, worse, see.
think straight; there was no reason KC would deceive her. “They’re not nice people,” she finally said. “They’re so rich you would not believe it. This house is a mansion, KC, and it’s across the street from Kensington Palace.” She stopped, about to blurt out that Hal would have been insane to try and bring her home. But she was afraid of what KC might say or, worse, see.
“Wow,” KC replied. “So Hal really was loaded.”
“Yeah.” Jill hesitated. “KC, something odd happened.” She proceeded to tell her all about the photograph of Anne and Kate.
“Oh, my God!” KC cried excitedly. “Jill, this cannot be a coincidence. Can you imagine if that woman in the photograph is your grandmother or something? Wouldn’t that be cool? I mean, this family thing is so important to your life! Maybe Hal was supposed to lead you to Kate.”
Jill stared at the phone. Now she was filled with unease.“I had better go,” she said abruptly. “Thanks for taking care of Ezekial. I really appreciate it.”
“Did I say something wrong? Jill, wait. I know you won’t believe this, but the Universe has a plan for you, and it wasn’t Hal.” KC’s tone was so earnest and fervent that Jill would have smiled under other circumstances.
But she didn’t. Instead. Jill stiffened. It was a moment before she could speak, Hal’s image engraved on her mind—but not as he lay dying, as he had been, handsome and happy and alive. “Not tonight. Please I’ve had a rough day The Universe—God—whatever—isn’t fair and this isn’t just. Because Hal was good and he should be alive and we should be together and frankly, I can’t figure out how God could let this happen!” Jill reached for her second scotch but she had already drunk it.
“Oh, Jill, He has His reasons,” KC said earnestly. “We are all on a Path and …”
“I know, I know, the Universe has some magical plan for everyone,” Jill said. She turned and yanked a tissue from the box that was beside her on the bed.
“There is a master plan,” KC said fervently. She did not hesitate. “I tossed some cards for you, Jillian. I couldn’t help myself.”
Jill tensed. This was what she had wanted to avoid. “I’m really tired,” she began.
“Jillian, two cards keep coming up. You must be careful.”
Jill sat up straighter. Unlike her neighbor, she was not a complete romantic fool. She did not believe in fortune-telling. Not really. But KC’s track record was spooky. She had to ask, “Which two cards?”
“The Fool and the Tower,” she said quietly.
“Care to explain?” Jill asked tersely, not liking the sudden change in KC’s tone.
“The Fool is a young man. He’s skipping along quite happily with his little dog and his backpack. But he isn’t watching where he’s going. He is about to step off of a cliff, Jill.” KC paused.
“What does this mean?”
“It’s very clear. You must look before you leap.”
Jill wet her lips. “I think I’ve already taken the free fall,” she murmured, thinking about arriving at the Sheldons’ home.
“The Tower is medieval; perhaps once it belonged to a castle. It’s made of stone, and it’s been struck by lightning. It’s in flames. People are leaping off of it in terror.”
The hairs prickled on Jill’s nape. “I don’t understand.” But she did.
“The Tower stands for upheaval, for destruction. And usually the upheaval happens at the speed of light.”
Jill was silent. “Maybe the Tower refers to Hal’s death,” she finally said.
“No. I don’t think so.” KC paused. Then, “I am certain this is referring to the future.”
Jill disagreed, but did not say so. Her life had been destroyed by Hal’s death, and it would never be the same again—if that wasn’t upheaval, what was? KC was wrong. The Tower referred to the present, not the future.
KC spoke again. “Trust me, Jillian, and trust the stars, they’re your allies.”
“I don’t think so,” Jill said.
“There is a reason for everything,” KC said, but gently.
“No. No, there isn’t.”
“Let me draw one card. To clarify things.” KC sounded insistent.
“What’s the point?” Jill asked, but she heard her shuffling. There was no point, because her situation was clear. Hal was dead. She was alone. And she had killed him through her neglectful driving, by God.
But then she thought about his dying words, and she thought about Kate Gallagher. And she heard the sound of the shuffling cards stop. Silence was on the other end of the line.
“What is it?” Jill whispered.
“There is a woman. It could be you, but I don’t think so, because it is the Empress. She is very powerful, surrounded by wealth, and she is very creative, perhaps in the arts.”
“I’m in the arts.”
“She might be pregnant,” KC said slowly.
Jill stared at the phone.
“She is usually pregnant. Jill, you’re not pregnant, are you?”
“No,” Jill said on a deeply drawn breath. She’d had enough of fatalism for one night, and as she clenched the phone, sweating now, she thought it would be unbearable if she were pregnant. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be home in two days. Thanks for everything.”
“Jill! Be careful. And I’ll see you when you get home.”
Jill couldn’t speak. She hung up quickly. Hal was dead. She could not possibly be pregnant.
Jill tried to recall when her last period was, but her memory was failing her now. God damn the Tower, she thought bleakly. And damn the Empress, too!
And she wasn’t pregnant. She couldn’t be. It would be the cruelest possible twist of fate. She had thought that life could not get worse, but if she was carrying Hal’s baby, it most certainly would.
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