Caroline was stung. "I wasn't making jokes. I was just trying to understand you. This is a murder we're talking about, the murder of your friend. Don't you feel bad for her? And aren't you concerned for all of us? Why don't we go back and help the detective? What about justice?"
"Justice!" Her mother snorted. "Do you have any idea how much money this spa grosses a year?"
"Well, no."
"Swedish massages at a hundred and fifty dollars a half hour. Victorian manicures at forty-five dollars. All we do is put a foreign name on it and we charge extra."
"We?"
"Yes, we." Her mother's anger seemed to dissipate, and she leaned over confidentially. "The profit margin here is obscene, especially considering what we pay the help. I'm going to run this place even better now. I'll be more hands-on. Downsize, merge, and franchise."
"But you don't know anything about-"
"I don't? Does Mrs. Field know cookies? Does Mary Kay know mascara? Why shouldn't I have my own spa business? Who knows more about beauty than I do?"
Caroline gathered that the question was rhetorical. Her mother was the vainest woman alive, but was that a job qualification? Caroline couldn't shake the sight of poor Claudia, clutching that absurd bikini, even in death.
"With a clever accountant and some elbow grease, I'm planning to make Phoenix Spa into a chain. Breathe new life into the old bird." Her mother's eyes focused for a moment on some faraway bottom line, and Caroline couldn't take it anymore. A woman was dead and her mother was dreaming of franchising facials.
"You know what, Mother?" Caroline snapped. "I don't know you at all. And what I'm coming to know, I don't like very much. I think we should go right back to that detective."
"I will not!"
"Then I will."
"You will not!" Her mother's eyes flared in renewed anger. "I forbid it! Douglas forbids it!"
"You can't forbid me. I eat solid food now, have you noticed?"
Her mother didn't bat an eye. "I can still forbid you, and I do. Do it and you'll hurt me, destroy your family!"
"But how?"
"I don't want a new business at the center of a murder case, and if you don't care about your own mother, think of Douglas. He loves you. He's a politician. You think he needs his wife being the star witness in an ugly murder case?"
Caroline tried to imagine it. It would be awful for Douglas. But being accused of obstructing justice could be worse. Caroline felt torn, but her mother ranted on.
"Picture this scene. Every press conference dominated by questions about you. Your name in the headlines, linked with a strangulation. And a bikini. God knows how they'll play it up, the possibilities are endless. He'll never get reelected!" Her mother drew a quick breath. "Now stop this foolishness and go to your room!"
The command struck a familiar chord. Without another word, Caroline broke away from her mother and hurried up the staircase to her room in their cottage. She was so angry and confused, she had to be alone. To think. To sort it out. To make a decision.
She threw herself facedown on the puffy duvet like she used to when she was a teenager. When was she going to grow up? Why did she still let her mother control her? She didn't know. But she had to talk to Douglas. Maybe he would tell her. She had to get him up to speed on what had happened, so he could protect himself. And what about this news, about her having a sister or a brother? Was that related to the murder? She had so many questions, so much to think about. It was all too much to process by herself. She needed help.
Caroline padded downstairs, poked around until she found the cordless phone that had been newly installed on her mother's desk, and punched in Douglas's personal number. Only she had the number; it was his wedding gift to her. She hated to disturb him at their country cabin, but she had to. He was working on a speech and always went into isolation at their cabin to write. Surely this was important enough to interrupt his solitude. She knew he would understand.
Still Caroline couldn't keep her thoughts from racing ahead. She had overheard Claudia's conversation last night. Did her knowledge put her in jeopardy? As the phone started ringing on the other end of the line, she eyed the glass sliders to the patio with new concern. The room was open to the lake. Anybody could break in. She tucked the cordless under her ear and hurried over to double-check the lock.
Good. The lock was in place. The phone was ringing. Douglas would know what to do. She loved him like crazy, and he was wonderful to her. He always seemed to have all the answers, and being married to him for the past eleven months was the best time of her life. Soon it would be their first anniversary. How would they celebrate? She would have to think of something. The phone was finally picked up. "Douglas!" Caroline said, almost breathless.
But the voice on the other end of the line was equally breathless. And it wasn't Douglas's voice. It was a woman's. "Hello?" the woman said, in almost a whisper.
"Douglas?" Caroline asked, taken aback. It couldn't be Douglas's phone. He was alone at the cabin, and nobody else had this number. "I'm sorry, I must have a wrong number."
"No, you wanted Doug? This is his phone."
Caroline's mouth went dry. Her face felt suddenly aflame. She didn't understand. Doug?
"He's sleeping, right here, but I'll wake him if it's important. Is this his office?"
Caroline couldn't answer or speak. She didn't get it. Was Douglas at the cabin with another woman? It couldn't be. He was going up alone, he'd said. He always did. Their marriage was sound, wasn't it?
"Hello? Anybody home?" breathed the woman's voice, then laughed lightly. She sounded young. Fresh. Thin.
Caroline's fingers tightened around the cordless. So Douglas hadn't sent her here for her benefit, or for her mother's. He had done it so he could be alone with this woman. It had all been planned. Premeditated. And was it the first time? Douglas always went to the cabin to work. Was this woman with him all this time? Caroline felt her heart wrench within her chest, but it wasn't pain, it was anger. Rage. Fury. She felt like exploding. For the first time in her life, Caroline felt like an adult. Like a woman.
"Would you give Doug a message for me?" Caroline asked, her voice surprisingly strong.
"Fer sure. I'll get a pencil."
"You won't need one. Just listen."
"Okay. Whatever."
"Tell that jerk I want a divorce for my anniversary," Caroline said abruptly, then pressed the button for End.
Chapter Five
"BRAVO!" THE PHONE CLATTERED to the floor. Caroline whirled around and saw King David in the doorway clapping, his head seeming to scrape the top of the door frame. "Couldn't have said it better myself," he added and came toward her.
She took a step backward toward the bathroom.
He stopped and held his hands up as if she had a gun on him. But he was smiling. "Did I scare you?" he said. "I just wanted to have a minute to talk to you. It's not easy, with your mother… anyway, can I sit down?"
Caroline shook her head. He was too big for the room. It wasn't just his extraordinary height, the long ropy arms, the snakelike hair coiling around his shoulders. Power bristled around him like microwaves. It came from decades of people pouring love into him in huge stadiums, writing him letters, waiting for him outside stage doors; from the critics arguing about him in Rolling Stone and Spin; from the judges letting him off one more time; and from the gossip columnists and girlfriends and agents.