“I’m going now, too,” Bowie said, but left her with a kiss before he shut the door behind him.
The air in the room was cool compared to the outside heat. She could hear the hum of a central air unit somewhere outside as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
*
The gossip about Justin Wayne’s arraignment two days ago was still fresh fodder in Eden when William Frazier’s story hit the national media.
Leigh was in the kitchen making piecrust and thinking about what might appeal to Talia’s palate when her phone signaled a text. She wiped her hands to check it and then read the post with a bit of disbelief that it was actually happening.
It’s about to hit the fan, my friend. This is for Stanton.
She laid down the phone and grabbed the remote, aiming it at the TV on the sideboard. She and Stanton used to watch the morning news over breakfast, never thinking that one day they would be part of a lead story.
“Bowie! Come here, please!” she called, and Bowie came running from the other room.
“What’s wrong?”
She pointed to the TV, and then moved to the chair where Stanton used to sit and stood behind it.
I’ve still got your back, my love.
When Bowie put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, she willingly leaned against him.
And our sons have mine.
*
Jack Wayne was at work, but he was just going through the motions. The disgrace of having a member of his immediate family imprisoned was humiliating, and for such a juvenile stunt. He still couldn’t believe Justin had done all that in broad daylight. The least he could have done was wait until nightfall. When Barbara, his secretary, burst into his office without knocking, he didn’t react with his usual disdain.
“Sir! You need to turn on the TV!” she cried.
He frowned as he reached for the remote. “What channel?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, and bolted.
Down the hall, Blake’s secretary, Connie, was doing the same thing, only Blake was on the phone, so she didn’t say a word. She just turned on the TV, handed him the remote and exited the room.
Back at the mansion, Charles had chosen to hole up in his suite rather than expose his wounds to public gossip, but after three days of self-imposed solitude he was bored with his own company.
He was stretched out on the sofa and channel surfing when he caught the breaking news alert. Seeing photos of his family flashing onscreen one after another with the headline “Scandal” made him turn up the volume. When the journalist began his report, Charles launched himself off the sofa, unable to believe the series of infractions, criminal activities and shady business dealings being listed. The final nails in the good will of public opinion were going to be the families they’d forced from their ancestral homes just to build a resort, the murder of a man who’d tried to stop them and the arrest of Justin Wayne on charges of attempted murder.
“Sweet son of a bitch,” Charles muttered.
Within seconds the phone began to ring. He left it for Frances to pick up, pulled a couple of suitcases from the closet and started to pack, then remembered they’d been ordered not to leave the county.
*
Nita was on the phone with a New York City friend when the friend suddenly gasped and then changed the subject.
“Oh my God, Nita! Your whole family is on the news! What happened? What’s going on?” she cried.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nita said, and began running from one corner of her suite to the other trying to find the remote.
Then Fiona came running in unannounced with a look of horror on her face, and Nita froze.
“I’ll have to call you back,” she said quickly, and disconnected. “Fee, what the hell is going on?”
“They’re talking indictments. They’re saying we all share the guilt because we’re sharing the profits. They said money is missing, and they’re talking fraud and embezzlement and even issues with the FDIC because of a lending company we own.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” Nita cried.
“It’s all over the news,” Fiona said, ignoring the question, and sank into a chair and started to weep. “We’re ruined. We’ll never recover from this.”
Nita glanced out the window, absently noting a contrail in the sky as a chill rolled through her. She stood, the tears so close to falling that she couldn’t see, and then turned to face her sister. “She did it.”
Fiona blew her nose and then reached for another tissue. “Who did what?” she muttered.
“Leigh. She told us what she’d do if anyone else messed with her family, and what Justin did lit her fuse.”
“But we’re her family, too,” Fiona said.
Nita laughed, and it was not a pretty sound.
“Like hell. We wrote her off nearly thirty years ago. We forgot she even existed, and then Justin killed her man and tried to kill one of her sons, and now she’s schooled us on what it means to keep your word.”