She was not so naive as to think that every problem could be solved by money—look at Nellie, lonely and miserable now, unable to buy back her sister despite all her riches—but a windfall would certainly let Gia sleep better at night.
All of which reminded Gia that her rent was due. The bill had been waiting for her when she had stopped back at the apartment yesterday. Staying here and keeping Nellie company was a pleasant change of scenery; it was posh, cool, comfortable. But it was keeping her from her work. Two assignments had deadlines coming up, and she needed those checks. Paying the rent now was going to drop her account to the danger level, but it had to be done.
Might as well find the checkbook and get it over with.
"Why don't you go out to the playhouse," she told Vicky.
"It's dull out there, Mom."
"I know. But they bought it 'specially for you, so why don't you give it another try today. I'll come out and play with you in a few minutes. Got to take care of some business first."
Vicky brightened. "Okay! We'll play Ms. Jelliroll. You can be Mr. Grape-grabber."
"Sure." Whatever would Vicky do without her Ms. Jelliroll doll?
Gia watched her race toward the rear of the house. Vicky loved to visit her aunts' house, but she got lonely after a while. It was natural. There was no one her age around here; all her friends were back at the apartment house.
She went upstairs to the guest bedroom on the third floor, where she and Vicky had spent the last two nights. Maybe she could get some work done. She missed her art set-up back in her apartment, but she had brought a large sketch pad and she had to get going on the Burger-Meister placemat.
Burger-Meister was a McDonald's clone and a new client for Carl. The company had been regional in the South but was preparing to go national in a big way. They had the usual assortment of burgers, including their own answer to the Big Mac: the vaguely fascist-sounding Meister Burger. But what set them apart was their desserts. They put a lot of effort into offering a wide array of pastries—éclairs, Napoleons, cream puffs, and the like.
Gia's assignment was to come up with the art for a paper placemat to line the trays patrons used to carry food to the tables. The copywriter had decided the placemat should extol and catalog all the quick and wonderful services Burger-Meister offered. The art director had blocked it out: Around the edges would be scenes of children laughing, running, swinging, and sliding in the mini-playground, cars full of happy people going through the drive-thru, children celebrating birthdays in the special party room, all revolving around that jolly, official-looking fellow, Mr. Burgermeister, in the center.
Something about this approach struck Gia as wrong. There were missed opportunities here. This was for a placemat. That meant the person looking at it was already in the Burger-Meister and had already ordered a meal. There was no further need for a come-on. Why not tempt them with some of the goodies on the dessert list? Show them pictures of sundaes and cookies and éclairs and cream puffs. Get the kids howling for dessert. It was a good idea, and it excited her.
You're a rat, Gia. Ten years ago this never would have crossed your mind. And if it had you'd have been horrified.
But she was not that same girl from Ottumwa who had arrived in the Big City fresh out of art school and looking for work. Since then she had been married to a crumb and in love with a killer.
She began sketching desserts.
After an hour of work, she took a break. Now that she was rolling on the Burger-Meister job, she didn't feel too bad about paying the rent. She pulled the checkbook out of her purse but could not find the bill. It had been on the dresser this morning and now it was gone.
Gia went to the top of the stairs and called down.
"Eunice! Did you see an envelope on my dresser this morning?"
"No, mum," came the faint reply.
That left only one possibility.
13
Nellie overheard the exchange between Gia and Eunice. Here it comes, she thought, knowing that Gia would explode when she learned what Nellie had done with the rent bill. A lovely girl, that Gia, but so hot-tempered. And so proud, unwilling to accept any financial aid, no matter how often it was offered. A most impractical attitude. And yet… if Gia had welcomed hand-outs, Nellie knew she would not be so anxious to offer them. Gia's resistance to charity was like a red flag waving in Nellie's face—it only made her more determined to find ways of helping her.
Preparing herself for the storm, Nellie stepped out onto the landing below Gia.
"I saw it."
"What happened to it?"
"I paid it."
Gia's jaw dropped. "You what!"
Nellie twisted her hands in a show of anxiety. "Don't think I was snooping, dearie. I simply went in to make sure that Eunice was taking proper care of you, and I saw it sitting on the bureau. I was paying a few of my own bills this morning and so I just paid yours, too."
Gia hurried down the stairs, pounding her hand on the banister as she approached.
"Nellie, you had no right!"
Nellie stood her ground. "Rubbish! I can spend my money any way I please."
"The least you could have done was ask me first!"
"True," Nellie said, trying her best to look contrite, "but as you know, I'm an old woman and frightfully forgetful."
The statement had the desired effect: Gia's frown wavered, fighting against a smile, then she broke into a laugh. "You're about as forgetful as a computer! "
"Ah, dearie," Nellie said, drawing to Gia's side and putting an arm around her waist, "I know I've taken you away from your work by asking you to stay with me, and that puts a strain on your finances. But I so love having you and Victoria here."
And I need you here, she thought. I couldn't bear to stay alone with only Eunice for company. I would surely go mad with grief and worry.
"Especially Victoria—I daresay she's the only decent thing that nephew of mine has ever done in his entire life. She's such a dear. I can't quite believe Richard had anything to do with her."
"Well, he doesn't have much to do with her anymore. And if I have my way, he'll never have anything to do with her again."
Too much talk of her nephew Richard made Nellie uncomfortable. The man was a lout, a blot on the Westphalen name.
"Just as well. By the way, I never told you, but last year I had my will changed to leave Victoria most of my holdings when I go."
"Nellie—!"
Nellie had expected objections and was ready for them: "She's a Westphalen—the last of the Westphalens unless Richard remarries and fathers another child, which I gravely doubt—and I want her to have a part of the Westphalen fortune, curse and all."
"Curse?"
How did that slip out? She hadn't wanted to mention that. "Only joking, love."
Gia seemed to have a sudden weak spell. She leaned against Nellie.
"Nellie, I don't know what to say except I hope it's a long, long time before we see any of it."
"So do I! But until then, please don't begrudge me the pleasure of helping out once in a while. I have so much money and so few pleasures left in life. You and Victoria are two of them. Anything I can do to lighten your load—"
"I'm not a charity case, Nellie."
"I heartily agree. You're family"—she directed a stern expression at Gia—"even if you did go back to your maiden name. And as your aunt by marriage I claim the right to help out once in a while. Now that's the last I want to hear of it!"
So saying, she kissed Gia on the cheek and marched back into her bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind her, however, she felt her brave front crack. She stumbled across the room and sank onto the bed. She found it so much easier to bear the pain of Grace's disappearance in the company of others—pretending to be composed and in control actually made her feel so. But when there was no one around to playact for, she fell apart.
Oh, Grace, Grace, Grace. Where can you be? And how long can I live without you?