Born To Be Wild

FOURTEEN

“Is there ever anything you decide not to say, Kelly?” Monica asked.

Mary Lisa looked thoughtful. “How very odd. It was about six months, as I remember. Wasn’t it, Mark?”

“Maybe,” Mark said, unperturbed, a small smile playing around his mouth. “Six months, Monica?”

“This is ridiculous,” Kathleen said. “Stop it, all of you. It is not funny.”

George said, nodding, “I agree with your mother. Drop it. Now, sometimes I’m in a meeting or up to my ears in a project, and I can’t watch with everyone else. I’ll hear cheering or groans or boos from the outer office. Most clients who come in know exactly who you are and want to take a break, watch the show too. Rain or shine, I see you most every day, sweetheart.”

“I just hope it doesn’t reflect on us,” Kathleen said with a shrug.

“Why, of course it does. Everyone greatly enjoys watching our daughter perform so splendidly.”

Rarely in her nearly twenty-eight years had Mary Lisa heard that hard a voice out of her father. She’d heard it out of Sunday Cavendish, however, a goodly number of times. She cleared her throat. “The fact is, Mom, whether or not you like or even approve of soap operas, a whole lot of people do. Upwards of twenty actors and five different crews work very hard to produce about thirty-eight minutes of airtime for a one-hour show. They’re incredible professionals and I’m still learning from them every day. Did you know we have four different directors?”

“Four directors?” Kelly said, sitting forward. “Why?”

“There’s simply too much happening for any fewer than four. You could come down and visit the set-you’re all officially invited-and see how everything works.”

Monica nodded. “Thank you, Mary Lisa. I’ll definitely come down if I can ever find the time. I really have been wondering about something, though-why do they do your makeup so heavy sometimes? You’re a woman who’s supposed to be heading up a big corporation, and sometimes they make you look like a high-priced hooker with those dresses you wear.”

“Yep, too much cleavage for the boardroom, that’s for sure. Fact is, it’s part of Sunday Cavendish’s persona. She’s sophisticated and worldly, rich and ruthless as a snake. She does what she wants and that includes pushing the envelope with her clothes. I really like her, actually. She’s got guts.”

Mrs. Abrams said from the doorway, “I think you’re the most beautiful girl on the show, Mary Lisa, nearly as beautiful as your daddy.”

George Beverly choked, spewed wine out of his mouth.

“That’s the truth,” Kelly said. “Get over it, Dad.”

Mrs. Abrams never looked away from Mary Lisa. “I love to guess what new trouble Sunday is going to stir up. But you know, I sure hope she doesn’t sleep with her sister’s husband. No matter what she thinks of her sister and her mother, she still wouldn’t sleep with her sister’s louse of a husband. Would she?”

That innocently dropped bomb rendered the table markedly silent for a moment until Mary Lisa laughed. “I happen to agree with you. Who knows what the writers will do, Mrs. Abrams? I’ll be sure to pass along what you think.”

She looked up to see Mark staring at her, and there was something in his expression that disturbed her to her toes, something like regret, maybe.

Monica said, “Kelly, I hear you broke up with John Goddard and moved back home. What happened?”

Kelly shrugged. “I decided I’d had enough of him. He was going to push marriage soon. No way, not after that fiasco with Jared.”

Monica arched a perfect brow. “Oh? You had enough of him? That isn’t what I heard. A friend of mine was having dinner at the Beijing a couple of nights ago, saw you there with John, heard a bit of a scene before Jack Wolf came in to rescue him.”

Before Kelly leaped over the table to go for her sister’s throat, George pinned her in place with a look, then turned to Mary Lisa. “Did your mother tell you about our local murder?”

Mary Lisa shook her head.

“Jason Maynard, Marci Hildebrand’s husband, was beaten to death early this week, found by his wife in the garage.”

Kathleen said, “It’s awful. Marci’s mother, as all of you know-Olivia Hildebrand-is one of my best friends. She’s in awful shape, understandably torn up about it, and the police don’t yet know who killed poor Jason. I know it was a burglar of some sort, had to be.”

Mary Lisa said, “I’m very sorry, Mother. Mrs. Hildebrand always seemed like a nice person. A murder. It seems impossible, not here in Goddard Bay.”

Her father grunted, but didn’t look up from his wineglass, simply continued to roll the crystal in his palms. She saw her mother frown at him.

What was that about?

Her father looked up at his wife. “I’m sorry that Olivia is involved in this, Kathy. It’s got to be difficult for you.”

“More so for her. Jack Wolf won’t let her alone. She said Marci told him Jason was having an affair, but he hasn’t found out who the other woman is. Livie said it was probably some bimbo over in Cloverdale.” Her mother shrugged. “I suppose it must be true.”

Kelly said, “Of course it’s true. Jason was a man, he was good looking, he dressed nice. He and Marci were married for nearly three years, and fact was, he was quite a bit more attractive than Marci. How long have you and Mark been married now, Monica?”

“Just because John Goddard kissed you off is no reason to be nasty,” Monica said. “Mark, would you please pass the green beans? Mrs. Abrams does them so nicely, don’t you agree, Mother?”

“Yes, she does,” Kathleen said, ignoring Kelly. “Mary Lisa said she’s staying until Sunday.”

“Well, that’ll be nice,” Monica said. She looked thoughtful. “So maybe we can do something Saturday night.” She didn’t pursue it.

Mary Lisa sat back in her chair. Monica was running for office, Kelly had been dumped by John Goddard-not vice versa-and there had been a murder in Goddard Bay. Her mother was still a champ at slice and dice, and Mark was still-she didn’t know what he was, only that she was now appalled that she’d ever believed herself in love with the man. And here she’d thought she’d be bored.

As Mary Lisa finally climbed into bed that night, Kelly opened the door and poked her head in. “Mark was giving you the eyeball. It’s like you’re no longer interested in him and he can’t stand it. And you’re a celebrity. Every man wants a girl who’s a celebrity, it’s like they think you put on your panty hose differently or something. I thought Monica was going to leap over the table and stick a knife in your heart.”

“There was no eyeball, Kelly. And I’m such a minor celebrity that nobody thinks about my panty hose.”

Kelly shrugged and looked down at her pretty pink toenails. “What Monica said, it really wasn’t like that. John Goddard really is a bastard.”

“I’ll take your word for it. What you need to think about is what you want to do now. How long are you going to stay here?”

“Oh, I’ll probably move back to my apartment next week sometime. Good night, Mary Lisa. By the way, Mark was definitely giving you the eyeball.” She left, her laughter floating behind her.