Part 28 (2/2)

She gripped the phone tightly because she knew the answer: No one stopped you because you would not have let them.

Dewdrops leaked from her eyes. ”Malcolm,” Elinor whispered, ”please. We have to confront her, and it will be better if you are here. Janice will need your support. It's obvious she's never felt she had mine.” She wanted to ask him to come there for her, too. She wanted to beg him for his support, for his love, though she hardly was worthy of either. ”I'm in CJ's room,” she added quietly, then gave him the room number.

”I'll be there in twenty minutes,” he replied, then quickly disconnected.

Elinor took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and looked at the others, who stood, without motion, like mannequins at Bergdorf's or Saks.

They waited until Mac arrived. He was somber and tense. His khakis were wrinkled, his hair was askew, and his eyes were slightly glazed, as if he hadn't slept. Elinor knew it was her fault. Could it be a sign that he cared?

CJ told him about the panties, because Elinor did not have the strength. Then Elinor asked him to call their daughter.

”Come to CJ's hotel room,” Mac said to Janice. ”She wants to show you something before she goes back to New York.” He told her the room number as Elinor had told him, though everyone now suspected she already knew it.

And so they waited, mostly in silence, except for Belita, who gurgled and giggled and said several words, one of which sounded like ”Poppy.”

Then, the knock on the door.

Elinor leaned against the wall, her arms folded, her self-respect gone. For the first time since he'd arrived, Mac glanced at her, but she shook her head. She was finished with being in charge.

He opened the door. ”Hi, honey,” he said to Janice. ”Come on in.”

Her hair was its usual mess, her clothes tossed together with her usual thoughtlessness. But when Janice saw everyone, she withdrew, like a shy child caught off guard.

Elinor winced.

”What's going on, Daddy?”

Mac cleared his throat. ”Honey,” he began, ”do you know your mother is being blackmailed?”

Her eyes landed on Elinor. Her gaze turned cool. Elinor recognized the chill that always seemed reserved for her, like a Yalumba Cabernet/s.h.i.+raz 2001 or a Chateaux Cheval Blanc Grand Cru. ”Blackmailed? Why?”

Jonas might be the theater buff in the family, but Janice had always been a competent actor. The chilled look reminded Elinor of that. ”If anyone is going to ask why,” Elinor suddenly said, ”I guess it should be me.” She took a step forward but did not raise her voice. ”Why, Janice? Why did you do it? Were you trying to scare me to death? Were you hoping your father would divorce me?”

A small furrow creased Janice's forehead. She looked as if she was going to cry.

Malcolm gently placed a hand on Janice's shoulder. ”Honey,” he said. ”Please. Just tell us if you know anything.”

”Know anything? About what?” That's when her eyes seemed drawn to the panties, which still lay spread-eagle on top of the bed. ”What is going on?” She turned to someone in the hallway, whom they couldn't see.

”Is your friend with you?” Mac asked. ”Maybe he'd like to come in.”

”Unless,” Elinor added in spite of her guilt, ”he's already been here. Has he?”

The chill turned to ice. ”Well. So now it's my mother who's accusing me of something. At least my employer had the b.a.l.l.s to say what they thought I had done.”

”Janice,” Mac said, ”don't talk to your mother that way.”

Janice let out a sharp laugh. ”Why not, Daddy? It's not as if anything I say or do affects her. Nothing ever has.”

Elinor stepped forward and raised her index finger. ”Now just one minute, young lady...”

Mac moved between them. ”Stop it!” he shouted. ”Both of you. Just stop.”

If it was true that energy could be felt in the air, the energy in the room slid from bad to way worse, like Gruyere left out in the sun. Then a short man appeared at Janice's side and boldly marched into the room.

”Jack Dowling,” he said, extending his hand to Malcolm. ”We met at the party.” He wore gla.s.ses and had an unfortunate comb-over. ”Janice's fiance.”

Janice had a fiance? Well, it was a fine time to announce it.

Then Poppy twittered. ”Well, he certainly isn't Jake from the Lord Winslow.”

”And he wasn't your stalker in Cayman,” Yolanda chimed in.

”No,” Elinor said, with unexpected relief. ”It isn't him.” She turned to her daughter. ”Oh, G.o.d, honey, I am so sorry.” Then she went to the bed, sank onto the mattress, and cried in front of them all.

”That does it,” Manny said. ”I'm going downstairs to alert security, so they don't panic when the police show up. Don't anyone leave until I get back.”

Yolanda picked up Belita. ”We're coming with you.”

The coffee and juice, the bagels and scones, arrived as they were leaving.

”What do you think, Manuel?” Yolanda asked as they scooted from the room.

”I think what I said in the beginning. Your friend should have called the police.”

He buzzed for the elevator; the doors instantly opened.

”But isn't there some other way?”

They stepped into the elevator; he pushed the b.u.t.ton for the first floor. He didn't respond. Sometimes Yolanda forgot that, at the end of the day, her brother was still a man who didn't like talking about people, especially women.

On the first floor, he paced toward the desk, Yolanda and Belita close on his heels.

He ignored the fact that the clerk was registering a guest. ”NYPD.” He flashed his badge. ”Which way to security?”

The clerk pointed to a side door. ”But they're busy right now.”

”Yeah,” the guest added, with a small chuckle. ”They caught an old lady stealing the silver.”

Forty-eight.

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