considered her girls safe then, safe and happy and settled with good men. How could she have been so wrong?
She pushed that thought away as useless and knocked lightly on Jamie’s office door before opening it.
The room had Jamie’s sense of style and organization. Ordinarily the sleek vertical blinds would have been open to the sunlight and the view of the pool and flowers. But the paparazzi and their telescopic lenses had the house under siege. The blinds were shut tight, the lamps on though it was mid-afternoon.
We’re like hostages, Val thought as her daughter sent her a harried smile and continued to talk on her desk phone.
Val sat in the simple button-backed chair across from the desk and waited.
Jamie looked tired, she noticed, and nearly sighed when she realized how little attention she’d paid over the last few days to the child she had left.
As her heart stuttered, Val closed her eyes, took several quiet breaths. She needed to focus on the matter at hand and not get mired in her grief.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Jamie hung up the phone, pushed both hands through her hair. “There’s so much to do.”
“I haven’t been much help.”
“Oh, yes, you have. I don’t know how we’d manage without you and Dad. Livvy—I can’t handle this and give her the attention she needs right now. David’s shouldered a lot of the load.”
She rose and went to the small refrigerator for a bottle of water. Her system had begun to revolt at the gallons of coffee she’d gulped down. In the center of her forehead was a constant, dull headache no medication seemed to touch.
“But he has his own work,” she continued as she poured two glasses. “I’ve had people offer to field some of the calls and cables and notes, but . . .”
“This is for family,” Val finished.
“Yes.” Jamie handed her mother a glass, eased her hip on the desk. “People are leaving flowers at the gate of Julie’s house. I needed to make arrangements for them to be taken to hospitals. Lucas Manning, bless him, is helping me with that. The letters are just starting to come in, and though Lou, Julie’s agent, is going to help handle them, I think we’re going to be snowed under in another week or two.”
“Jamie—”
“We already have a mountain of condolences from people in the business, people she knew or worked with. And the phone calls—”
“Jamie,” Val said more firmly. “We have to talk about what happens next.”
“This is what happens next for me.”
“Sit down.” When the phone rang, Val shook her head. “Let it go, Jamie, and sit down.”
“All right. All right.” Giving in, Jamie sat, let her head fall back.
“There’s going to be a trial,” Val began, and this had Jamie sitting up again.
“There’s no point in thinking about that now.”
“It has to be thought of. Sam’s fancy new lawyer’s already on TV, prancing and posing. Some people are hot to say he couldn’t have done it. He’s a hero, a victim, a figure of tragedy. More will say it before it’s over.”
“You shouldn’t listen.”
“No, and I don’t intend to anymore.” Val’s voice went fierce. “I don’t intend to take any chances that Livvy will hear any of it, will be exposed to any of it or be used as she was the other day when she got outside. I want to take her home, Jamie. I want to take her back to Washington as soon as possible.”
“Take her home?” For a moment, Jamie’s mind went completely blank. “But this is her home.”
“I know you love her. We all do.” Val set her glass aside to take her daughter’s hand. “Listen to me, Jamie. That little girl can’t stay here, closed up in this house like a prisoner. She can’teven go outside. We can’t risk her going to her window without knowing some photographer will zoom in and snap her picture. She can’t live like that. None of us can.”
“It’ll pass.”
“When? How? Maybe, maybe it would have eased up a little, but not now that there’s
She pushed that thought away as useless and knocked lightly on Jamie’s office door before opening it.
The room had Jamie’s sense of style and organization. Ordinarily the sleek vertical blinds would have been open to the sunlight and the view of the pool and flowers. But the paparazzi and their telescopic lenses had the house under siege. The blinds were shut tight, the lamps on though it was mid-afternoon.
We’re like hostages, Val thought as her daughter sent her a harried smile and continued to talk on her desk phone.
Val sat in the simple button-backed chair across from the desk and waited.
Jamie looked tired, she noticed, and nearly sighed when she realized how little attention she’d paid over the last few days to the child she had left.
As her heart stuttered, Val closed her eyes, took several quiet breaths. She needed to focus on the matter at hand and not get mired in her grief.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Jamie hung up the phone, pushed both hands through her hair. “There’s so much to do.”
“I haven’t been much help.”
“Oh, yes, you have. I don’t know how we’d manage without you and Dad. Livvy—I can’t handle this and give her the attention she needs right now. David’s shouldered a lot of the load.”
She rose and went to the small refrigerator for a bottle of water. Her system had begun to revolt at the gallons of coffee she’d gulped down. In the center of her forehead was a constant, dull headache no medication seemed to touch.
“But he has his own work,” she continued as she poured two glasses. “I’ve had people offer to field some of the calls and cables and notes, but . . .”
“This is for family,” Val finished.
“Yes.” Jamie handed her mother a glass, eased her hip on the desk. “People are leaving flowers at the gate of Julie’s house. I needed to make arrangements for them to be taken to hospitals. Lucas Manning, bless him, is helping me with that. The letters are just starting to come in, and though Lou, Julie’s agent, is going to help handle them, I think we’re going to be snowed under in another week or two.”
“Jamie—”
“We already have a mountain of condolences from people in the business, people she knew or worked with. And the phone calls—”
“Jamie,” Val said more firmly. “We have to talk about what happens next.”
“This is what happens next for me.”
“Sit down.” When the phone rang, Val shook her head. “Let it go, Jamie, and sit down.”
“All right. All right.” Giving in, Jamie sat, let her head fall back.
“There’s going to be a trial,” Val began, and this had Jamie sitting up again.
“There’s no point in thinking about that now.”
“It has to be thought of. Sam’s fancy new lawyer’s already on TV, prancing and posing. Some people are hot to say he couldn’t have done it. He’s a hero, a victim, a figure of tragedy. More will say it before it’s over.”
“You shouldn’t listen.”
“No, and I don’t intend to anymore.” Val’s voice went fierce. “I don’t intend to take any chances that Livvy will hear any of it, will be exposed to any of it or be used as she was the other day when she got outside. I want to take her home, Jamie. I want to take her back to Washington as soon as possible.”
“Take her home?” For a moment, Jamie’s mind went completely blank. “But this is her home.”
“I know you love her. We all do.” Val set her glass aside to take her daughter’s hand. “Listen to me, Jamie. That little girl can’t stay here, closed up in this house like a prisoner. She can’teven go outside. We can’t risk her going to her window without knowing some photographer will zoom in and snap her picture. She can’t live like that. None of us can.”
“It’ll pass.”
“When? How? Maybe, maybe it would have eased up a little, but not now that there’s
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