Part 28 (1/2)
”Well,” Elinor said, ”I see you've come to Was.h.i.+ngton after all.” Her face was drawn and tinged a bit gray, as if she'd changed her foundation or been swallowing silver. She did not ask why everyone had a.s.sembled-if they'd come to rally around her or if they were somehow connected to the ”trouble” CJ had claimed to be in.
No one responded. They let Elinor's eyes scope out the room, then alight on the panties the way theirs had done.
Like CJ, she shrieked.
When she'd quieted down, CJ told her what had happened, how the panties had been lying in wait, a lace land mine poised to explode on the pillow, shooting shrapnel of feathers and shards of La Perlas. Her description, she knew, was over the top, but, d.a.m.n, she was angry-angry at her sister, angry at herself, for getting involved.
Elinor blanched, Elinor blinked. Then she recounted what the congressman had said about his wife's favorite color being lavender.
”And now it's time,” Manny said, ”to call the police.”
”You can't make me,” Elinor said. She turned to the others. ”He can't make me, can he?”
CJ shrugged along with the others, though she silently hoped that he could.
”I'm an officer of the law,” Manny said. ”I didn't want to be dragged into this, because I know it's my duty to turn this over to the proper authorities. And the proper authorities are not us.”
Elinor shook her head. ”Go ahead,” she said at last, her skin tone reverting to near normal as she uttered her glum resignation. ”It doesn't matter. I told Malcolm last night. And everyone in town will know soon enough, now that the congressman knows.”
CJ wondered when-if ever-she'd seen her sister this forlorn, a candidate admitting defeat. She stood up and put her hands on Elinor's shoulder. ”E,” she said, ”I'm so sorry.”
Elinor patted her hand. ”Before the police get here, can we order tea? I need caffeine, CJ. You and I know this is going to get worse.”
”Sure. Anyone else want anything?”
There were murmurs for coffee and juice and a bagel. ”And scones,” Elinor added, matter-of-factly. ”Have room service bring a basket of scones. I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday, except for that G.o.d-awful mousse last night.”
It was as if they were going to order tea at the Ritz, with neither a half million dollars nor a nation at stake.
CJ moved toward the phone, then Elinor suddenly cried out, ”Oh, my G.o.d! I do that every time I'm in a hotel!”
The group raised eyebrows, tilted heads, curled their hair. Well, one curled her hair, anyway.
”Do what?” Manny finally asked.
”I order tea and scones. I did it at the Lord Winslow.”
”Anyone who's ever traveled with you knows you do that,” CJ added.
Elinor laughed. ”You're right. You know. Malcolm does. Jonas. But I would never have dreamed Janice would have remembered. I haven't gone anywhere with her in years.”
”Janice?” Yolanda asked.
”My daughter. Three days ago she asked if I'd be staying at the Fairmont. She asked if I'd be ordering scones.”
Silence again.
”Don't you see?” Elinor asked, her voice breaking a little. ”Janice must have been mocking me. She must have known I had ordered them at the Lord Winslow.”
”And that you didn't finish them,” CJ added. ”That you left them out in the hall, like the housekeeper told me.” Her eyes locked with Elinor's in twin perception.
Poppy turned her head. ”Does Janice read Vanity Fair?”
Elinor tossed Poppy a halfhearted defense. ”My daughter and I don't always get along, but I can't believe she's blackmailing me.”
”Did she stay here last night?” Alice asked.
”She said she was going to. Jonas said her boyfriend was with her.”
”What's his name?”
”I don't know. I didn't meet him. CJ, did you meet him?”
”Yes. I think his name's Jack.”
”Could it be Jake?” Poppy asked. ”Is it possible he's a security guard at the Lord Winslow?”
”Does he wear black?” Yolanda asked. ”Does he have an iPod?”
”I wonder if he was in Grand Cayman,” Elinor hissed.
”And,” Poppy added, her breath coming out in little bursts, ”I wonder if he likes Chinese.”
CJ said, ”s.h.i.+t,” then Belita said it, too.
Forty-seven.
Before calling the Capitol Police, Manny let Elinor call Malcolm. Not that she had a clue what to say.
He didn't answer until the fourth ring, as if he knew it was she, and did not want to bother.
”Malcolm,” she said, tying to sound normal, trying not to air any more dirty laundry-ha! such pathetic words!-in front of her friends, ”please come to the hotel. I believe Janice is my blackmailer.”
”Janice? Our daughter?”
She closed her eyes. If she could die now, everything might work out all right. ”Yes,” she replied.
”Elinor...”
She could not bear explaining the details right then. She could not bear to think she had driven her daughter to hate her so much...her own flesh, her own blood, to conjure such betrayal. In that instant, Elinor regretted every moment she had favored Jonas over her daughter, denounced herself for every time she'd clung to Jonas as if he were the sole lifeline she had to her husband. Had she been so insanely jealous of her sister that she'd needed to make certain Jonas would love her, his counterfeit mother?
Along the way, Elinor had been dreadfully unfair to Janice.
Why had no one stopped her?