Twelve
With just over a week until the party, things were looking grim at Cedarwood. Autumnal rains had made work slower, especially in the garden. Everyone had worked double time, pulling together, and they were bone-weary. The ballroom ceiling was still bare, replacement chandeliers hadn’t arrived – they were lost in transit – and the overall feeling was of hopelessness. We’d got to the point of sheer exhaustion, despite our very best efforts. Instead, I worked on plan B, which was hosting the party in the lobby. It wouldn’t have the grand exit to the deck, which we’d planned to string up with fairy lights, but it was still a beautiful space, and I could decorate it enough to pass muster.
Gripping my coffee mug tight, I went outside, hoping the view of the mountains would cheer me up, so I could try and rally the troops, and spur them on when they arrived.
My cellphone buzzed. Amory.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked. Amory would be walking to work, sipping takeaway coffee from Starbucks, newspapers bundled under her arm.
“Clio, darling. Now don’t be alarmed.”
“Oh, this sounds ominous.”
“There’s an article in today’s paper saying Flirty McFlirtison is considering suing you. I’m sure it’s just an attempt to scare you into hiding further in the middle of nowhere to keep you quiet, but I thought you should know.”
“What? They can’t sue me? What for?” My heart raced so fast I thought my chest would explode. Could she sue me? Take Cedarwood?
“For damages. For the cost of the wedding and all the accoutrements.”
“What? You’re kidding!” Amory’s early-morning phone call was enough to send me into a tailspin. I had so much to do at the lodge, and now this disaster to deal with.
She made soothing noises. “I know, I know, but she’s filed a motion saying there were other costs. Emotional as well as financial. Their honeymoon, for example, and her mental health… there’s doctors involved.”
I cupped my head and wailed. “So, she is filing the suit against me, or they both are?”
“It doesn’t say. Maybe you could call the fiancé, and find out? He could probably convince her to drop the charges if he wanted to.”
Light rain sprinkled. “I don’t have his number. Some stalker I am – allegedly. God…” I ran a hand over my face. “This couldn’t come at a worse time.”
“I’ve got his number. There’s ways and means, if you know how… well, OK, I just opened up the database with their file, but I’ll text it to you.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“Say you’re sorry, you meant no harm. Mention you’re practically living in the wilderness and they won’t hear a peep out of you. And also say they can sue you but all you own is a rundown old lodge – no, say cabin, in said wilderness. They don’t need to know the grand scale of Cedarwood. And I doubt they’ll check.”
I let out a half-wail, half-groan. “OK.”
“Report back.”
“Will do, love you.”
“Kisses.”
My phone pinged with a message containing the groom’s number. Johnny was a ridiculously famous actor. Older now, but still working sporadically, and popular despite his provocative not-so-private life. I’d spoken to him briefly at one of the planning meetings, and then woefully on the wedding night to tell him she’d gone.
Would he hold a grudge? Why wouldn’t he! Run, I’d told his fiancée, run!
I dialed, hoping it would go to voicemail and I’d be given a stay of execution. And really, I hadn’t prepared anything to say.
“Yeah?” A husky male voice answered.
“Johnny?”
“Do you know what time it is?” he grunted.
Celebrities and their beauty sleep! “I do, I’m sorry.”
“If this is about the fireworks, it wasn’t me.”
Fireworks? “No, it’s not about that. It’s Clio. Your… wedding planner,” I said, my toes curling.
“Oh. You.”
The disdain in his voice was apparent.
“It’s me. I’m so sorry to have woken you. But you see, this whole… saga, well I wanted to discuss it with you. I know I made a mistake, a huge mistake, but I was working off the information given to me at the time.”
“You told my fiancée to run. To go marry some other guy!”
“Well, yes, and I can see how that might come across…”
“Come across? You can see, can you? I’m a laughing stock!”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I thought… she told me she loved someone else. So the romantic in me, the normal sane person in me, thought fleeing was the only option. You wouldn’t want to have married someone who didn’t love you, surely?”
“None of them love me. They love the idea of me.”
I reared back. “And that’s enough?” Alarm bells clanged in my head – I was doing it again, saying things I shouldn’t. But settling for someone who clearly didn’t love you? It was outrageous.
“Listen here, I don’t know why you think it’s OK to call me after what you’ve done – you’re either courageous or really, really stupid. But I think we’ve covered all we need to, unless there was anything else? One last piece of advice?” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
Why did I not just focus on the matter at hand? Now I’d upset him, and it would do my cause no good. “Flirty… I mean Monica… is threatening to sue me for damages, and I’d hoped you could convince her to drop the charges. I’ve left New York, I don’t have a trust fund, or any real cash…”
He let out a belly laugh. “What’s this got to do with me?”
“Could you call her? Tell her to stop all of this nonsense? I’m not in Manhattan, and I won’t be back. I’ve lost my job, my life…” My voice broke. Some professional. But what if it did go to court and I lost the lodge?
He softened. “Look, it’s a ploy, OK. You’re an excuse to keep her face in the papers and, as an aside, it’s managed to skyrocket my career again.” He chuckled like it was nothing. “Everyone wants to hire the broken-hearted washed-up movie star. Let it play out, and I promise you things will settle down.”
“You ruined my career, my life, for publicity?” Was he for real?
“I didn’t set out to do that. You told her to run, don’t forget. It’s just a lucky side effect that it’s rekindled a career I thought was virtually over. Anyway,
