heard Ms Kenyon’s voice.”
The laughing girl with the paring knife laughed harder. “You heard Alice,” she said. “She does a great impression of her boss. Do some more, Alice.”
“Well…” Alice glanced at the cook, who was no longer laughing. Better jolly her along a little more. “If you insist. Have you ever heard the story of her first wedding anniversary?”
“Which husband?” the cook inquired.
“First. He was a garage mechanic, the only poor man she ever married. According to legend, he took a gift to his beautiful young wife on their first-week anniversary.”
“One week?” Even the cook was interested now, while the butler, although pretending not to pay the least attention, had an ear cocked to catch everything.
“And a good thing, too,” Alice retorted, “because the marriage only survived about six months.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “Guess what he got her.”
“A diamond?” the kitchen helper guessed.
“Candy and flowers,” the cook predicted.
“Wrong on both counts.” Alice loved this part of the story. “He handed her a pretty box, and when she ripped off the wrappings she found…a blender.”
Alice recoiled in perfect imitation of Sharlayne’s own frequent telling of the tale. “And Sharlayne said, ‘If it’s not something to put on this body, I don’t even want to touch it!”’
Her audience of three roared with laughter, which cut off abruptly. With a sinking feeling, Alice knew before she even turned around that this time she might very well have gone too far. The best job she’d ever had, and now she’d be out on the street because she just couldn’t pass up an easy laugh.
But turn she must. Sure enough, Sharlayne stood in the doorway, beckoning to her like the spider to the fly.
But why was she smiling?
Alice had had an uneasy feeling from the moment almost a week ago when Sharlayne had announced that she and her two assistants were flying East. She didn’t know why, since she frequently traveled with her employer. She just knew she’d been nervous about the whole thing for no good reason.
Now she knew why. She’d had a premonition of doom.
MR. WILBERT LED Sharlayne and Alice into an elegant room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. He certainly appeared to belong in these rich surroundings, not too surprising. Sharlayne had said rather calculatingly that he came from old money.
Lots of old money.
Alice spared a glance around, admiring the leather-covered tomes with gilt edgings, the heavy dark furniture, the brocaded draperies. How many of these books had Wilbert’s own company published? How many of the items in this room were family heirlooms?
How long could Alice avoid the inevitable?
Taking a deep breath, she turned—and stopped short at the sight of Tabitha, who was just entering the room. Sharlayne’s personal assistant wore her usual disapproving expression. Alice didn’t take it personally, supposing that the woman simply didn’t want anyone invading her turf.
Was she about to get her fondest wish?
Alice sighed and said a tentative, “Sharlayne—”
“Before we begin,” Linden Wilbert put in, “may I offer everyone a glass of wine?”
“Nothing for me,” Alice said quickly. “I’d just like to get this over with, if you don’t mind.”
“We do mind,” Sharlayne said sweetly. “Thank you, Linden. That would be lovely.” She gestured for Alice to take a seat.
Thoroughly confused, Alice chose a brass-studded leather chair beside a fireplace cold in May. She’d seen Sharlayne lose her temper only once and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Why was she pussyfooting around now? Being the kind of person who’d rather get any unpleasantness over with as quickly as possible, Alice was nonetheless forced to wait until the wine was duly delivered.
Then she said, “I apologize, Sharlayne. I wasn’t making fun of you, honest.”
“No?” Sharlayne’s brows arched above guileless eyes. “Who were you making fun of?”
“No one.” Alice made it a point not to look at Tabitha, who was probably purring by now. “I just wanted to score brownie points with the cook. She wasn’t real happy to hear about your dietary requirements.”
Mr. Wilbert seemed distressed. “I should have spoken to the cook on your behalf, Sharlayne,” he apologized. “She does tend to be testy.”
“I was only trying to get on her good side,” Alice explained, trying not to sound defensive, “but I shouldn’t have used you to do it.” Sharlayne said nothing, so Alice added a resigned, “If you’re going to fire me, let’s get it over with.”
Sharlayne’s eyes widened. “Is that what you think? That I’d fire a good and loyal employee over a little thing like that?”
“Well, actually…yes. I know loyalty is really important to you. I also know I was out of line.”
“As you have been on many other occasions, and I didn’t fire you then, did I? You’ve been doing that takeoff on me almost from the day I hired you.”
“You knew?” And then Alice understood: Tabitha, blank faced and superior, was a stool pigeon.
Sharlayne smiled that dazzling smile. “You should know better than to believe everything you read and hear about me, Alice. I’m not really all that dumb.”
“Lord, if there’s one thing I never thought you were, it’s dumb,” Alice said fervently. “This is a real relief. I owe you big-time. How about I promise I’ll never let myself get carried away like that again, for starters.” She lifted her right hand, palm out, to verify her vow.
“Oh, dear,” Sharlayne said. “That’s not what I want to hear at all.”
“You don’t?”
Sharlayne shook her head.
“Then what?” Alice leaned forward, aware that Tabitha was doing the same. Whatever was going on, she wasn’t a party to it, either.
But Mr. Wilbert was. “Sharlayne, do you really think you should go forward with—”
“Shh.” Sharlayne kept her level gaze on Alice. “I won’t deny it hurt to learn that you, my trusted friend and employee, were making fun of me behind my back.”
“I wasn’t,” Alice protested. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, after all.”
Sharlayne sighed. “I was not flattered. But you see, something’s come up where your knack for mimicry may come in handy.”
“I can’t imagine what.”
“It’s very simple,
