“It’s not called eavesdropping, Rebecca. I think it’s best not to post anything in a public forum peopled by experts if I don’t have anything to add to the conversation. Unlike some people,” I said, a veiled reference to her husband and other amateurs like him who happily shared conspiracy stories that linked the Hope Diamond to the assassination of President Kennedy and Prince Philip’s death. I didn’t need to ask what Rebecca’s online persona was, having long ago recognized her as PUCCISMOM. At least she didn’t post much, just the occasional random question regarding weather and fashion in various corners of the world when a contributor mentioned their location.
“Yes, well, as you know, Marc is very well-informed and is a vital part of the online treasure-hunting community. It’s just that recently he seems to be the victim of online bullying from that Blackbeard guy.”
I knew which posts she was referring to. “Unless I’m missing something, Rebecca, I don’t think that another contributor expressing a different opinion is considered bullying. All Blackbeard said is that if Marc couldn’t show whatever proof he’s claiming to have regarding the existence of the other half of the Hope Diamond, then the other members have no other choice but to assume he’s not telling the truth.”
“She’s right,” Jayne said. “Was he threatened?”
Rebecca took another fry, dipped it in the butter, then licked the salt from her fingers, evidently forgetting that she wasn’t alone. “Not in so many words. He accused Marc of trying to pull a hoax. So he basically called Marc a liar.”
I wanted to point out that sometimes the truth hurt, but felt my mother’s knuckle jabbing into my ribs. There were times when I really resented her mother’s intuition.
“Rebecca, honey,” Ginny said, pushing a glass of sweet tea closer to Rebecca, “do you know for certain that Marc does have evidence?”
She stared at her plate for a long moment, then nodded. “I told Melanie. It’s an old painting he borrowed from the museum.” I was amazed she didn’t use air quotes around the word “borrowed,” because I certainly would have. “I didn’t see it. He just brought it into the house and put it in his office without showing it to me.”
“How do you know it’s evidence, then?” asked Jayne.
Rebecca looked up, her jaw jutting out defiantly. “Because he told me. He said with the proof he discovered, it won’t matter if the film gets canceled because we won’t need the money. It’s why he’s stopped complaining to me about the spooky stuff going on in the house that’s making the film crew leave.”
Her lower lip wobbled as she attempted a sip of her sweet tea, and some of it dribbled down her chin without her noticing.
Jayne picked up a cloth napkin and gently dabbed Rebecca’s face. “There, there,” she said, her inner nanny kicking in.
“Maybe you can show us?” I suggested. “That way I can go online and back Marc up.”
Her eyes met mine, and I knew she was remembering our conversation at Charleston Place over coffee, when I’d asked to see the painting and she accused me of trying to take advantage of a woman with pregnancy brain.
“Is that the best you can do, Melanie? I’m sure Jack would give his eyeteeth to learn what Marc has discovered. He’s that desperate to get back at Marc.”
A wave of righteous anger swept through me, making me forget Rebecca’s pregnant state despite my mother’s calming hand on my arm. “Can you blame him?” I asked, my voice louder than I’d planned. “Marc has tried over and over to ruin Jack’s life and I’m sure he finds it irritating that Jack is still alive and kicking. And if Marc is stupid enough to believe the rumors that a giant diamond exists somewhere in our house, then he deserves to be called out in a public forum. From my experience, if Marc told me the sky was blue, I’d call him a liar.”
The table fell silent as everyone looked at me. I took a sip of my tea, my appetite completely gone even though we hadn’t had dessert yet. I felt my mother watching me, prodding me to apologize, but I couldn’t. Because every single word was true.
Instead of rebuking me, Rebecca looked down at her lap as she twisted the dusty rose linen napkin between her hands. “He’s still seeing that . . . woman. And there’s another one, too. A blonde. I saw them walking into the Spectator Hotel.”
“Did you ask him about it?” Jayne said, using her soothing nanny voice. “She could be a business associate and they were going for drinks. They do have a wonderful bar.”
Rebecca looked up and let out a sniffle, almost making me feel sorry for her. Almost. “Except it was eleven in the morning, and they were holding hands and kissing before walking inside.” She began to sob, and Jayne put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“I’m so sorry,” Jayne said. “You don’t deserve that.”
Rebecca looked up, her eyes and the tip of her nose a matching shade of dark pink. “I think the lingerie shower will do the trick. Don’t you think so? He’ll see me as sexy again and remember all the good times. He won’t want to look at anyone else.”
Again the table fell silent. “Rebecca,” Ginny said softly, “regardless of what Marc thinks, it doesn’t erase his actions, which are inexcusable, hurtful, and solid grounds for divorce. I know you think you love him and want to hold on to him, and that’s your decision. But whatever you decide, remember that we’re your family, and we’ll help you through whatever happens.”
“And maybe even plan a little revenge,” Jayne suggested.
I nodded eagerly while our mother sent us a warning glance.
Rebecca remained silent except for a sniffle as she placed her twisted napkin on the table and slid her chair back. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go take a nap now if you don’t mind seeing yourselves out. Just leave the doughnuts on the table—I’m sure I’ll be hungry later.”
Without looking directly at us, she said, “If any of you would like to powder your nose before you head back, the powder room is down the hall to the right of the door where you came in.” She paused a moment. “Right next to Marc’s office. He was in a rush this morning, so I don’t think he had time to lock the painting in his safe. He thinks I’m too stupid to be curious about what he’s up to, which makes him careless.”