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Authors: C. De Melo

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BOOK: 1 3 7 – ZOË
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Lance let out a sigh of relief.  “Good.  So, h
ow are you?”

“Fine.  You?”

“Fine.”

“It’s been a long time.”

Lance nodded.  “It has, indeed.”

Michael placed a
n arm around me.  “Well, our little Zoë insisted on you coming and I’m glad you did.  Come on in and have a drink.  I don’t think you need any introductions since you already know just about everyone here.”

I smiled gratefully at Michael. 
Lance caught the exchange and frowned slightly before following us into the living room.  Everyone seemed surprised (but not displeased) to see him.  I watched with a smile on my face as Lance mingled effortlessly in the group, spreading his charm and good humor.  When I glanced up at Michael, I noticed he was not smiling.  In fact, he watched his brother with an intensity that bordered on hostile. 

When he caught my eye, he smiled and kissed the top of my head.
  “When do we eat?  I’m famished,” he said.


Soon,” I replied, suddenly wishing he would remove his arm from around my shoulders.

“Din
ner is served,” Juana announced.

“That’s my cue to get the bird,” Michael said
as he stepped away from me.

Juana and Maria
set the food out on the table.  The twenty-three pound turkey was carried to the head of the table by Michael himself.  The bird was cooked to a perfect golden brown.

“What do you think?  Twenty pounds?” Lance asked of Maddy, who was sitting beside him.

Since I was seated directly across from Lance, I whispered, “Twenty-three.”

They both looked at me and smiled.
  Michael picked up a wickedly sharp knife and began carving the giant bird.  Before long, plates were being piled high with delicious food.  Juana and Maria had outdone themselves.  The guests were eating heartily, drinking and chatting.  I looked around and felt the deep sense of satisfaction that comes from being a successful hostess. 

At one point during the meal
I caught Lance staring at me with a strange expression on his face.  I saw something in his eyes that I remembered seeing many years ago:
fascination
.  Lance was only twenty years old when I was first introduced to him by Michael.  He was ten years my junior and no doubt less experienced than me.  Regardless of our age difference, I took the time to speak with him and really listen to what he had to say.  I was surprised by Lance’s keen intelligence and maturity.  We hit it off instantly, and within minutes he had me laughing.  Since Michael was usually pulled away to discuss politics or business whenever we went to social events, Lance would often tag along at his older brother’s invitation in order for me not to be alone.  We would spend the time enjoying one another’s company.  In time, it eventually became obvious to me (and Michael) that Lance had a crush on me.  We thought it was cute and harmless; a boy’s crush on an older woman. But Lance was no longer an inexperienced boy.

Instead,
he was very much a man.
  And now he was almost ten years my senior.  The roles had reversed; did he still have a crush on me?

We stared at each other for only a few seconds, but the intensity
of the exchange made it seem like longer.  Lance was the first to break eye contact.  He looked down at his plate.  I turned my head and saw Michael glare at his brother before meeting my gaze.  When I smiled at my husband, he did not return the smile.  Instead, he picked up his wine glass and began to speak with the female colleague seated beside him.

Michael
avoided me for the remainder of the night.  Not even when his favorite dessert was brought to the table did he look to me or say thank you.  The men congregated to discuss business and sports after dinner, leaving Lance with the women.  None of them minded his charming company; in fact they welcomed it with obvious approval.  After several minutes, however, Michael invited Lance to join the men. 


Come on, little brother.  Let me rescue you from these hens,” Michael teased.

The women feigned outrage at the macho comment, but they took it as an opportunity to gossip.  Since Maddy, my mother and I were not big on gossip, we listened more than we spoke.
  Later in the evening after everyone had gone home, I approached Michael in the kitchen.  He was picking at a piece of cold turkey.  Maria and Juana were busy doing the dishes and putting leftovers in smaller containers.  I remembered how much Michael loved making sandwiches the day after Thanksgiving.

“I think dinner
went rather well. Did you enjoy yourself?” I asked.

He looked down
at me.  “I did.”

When he said nothing more, I shrugged. 
“Well, I’m going upstairs.  Are you coming up?”


Not yet, but you go ahead.”

I knew
something was bothering him.  “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

I went upstairs.  Michael had moved back into the master bedroom shortly after the park incident in September.  I waited for him to come to bed, which he did a half hour later.  The king size mattress placed him at an arm’s length away from me.

“What’s wrong, Michael?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he replied as he settled comfortably on a pile of pillows.

“Oh, come on,” I said, leaning on my elbow.
  “Something has been bothering you since dinner.  I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”

“Actually, it was less than a year ago
,” he retorted.

“Very funny.  N
ow will you tell me what’s eating away at you?”

He took a deep breath and finally admitted, “I saw how you and Lance looked at each other.”

I looked at him incredulously.  “What?”

He shrugged and repeated himself.  And then he added,
“I’m just an old fool, princess.  Forgive me for being jealous…I know it’s silly of me.”


It is indeed silly,” I agreed.  “Besides, you know how friendly Lance and I have always been with each other.”

“I’
m not accusing you of anything, princess.  It’s just that Lance is young, handsome and charismatic…he went from being an awkward boy to a distinguished man.  He’s not a kid anymore, Zoë.  It’s only natural if you feel attracted to him.”

“Michael, please!

He met my
gaze levelly.  “I know about your little rendezvous.”

“What rendezvous?”

“Your little museum outing and lunch.”

I sat up in the bed.  “You had me followed?”

He
looked genuinely hurt at my insinuation.  “No, Zoë.  One of my business associates saw you at the museum restaurant and he mentioned it to me.”

I sighed in frustration. 
“Michael, all we did was visit the Smithsonian and have lunch.”

“Then why not
tell me about it?” he asked softly.

“Because I know you and Lance have not been on speaking terms.  The last thing I want
to do is make you upset…especially after everything you’ve done for me.”  It was the truth.

Michael was
nodding with a sad expression on his face.  “I understand.  In the future, just be honest.”

“I’m sorry,
” I said.

“Let’s just forget about this.”

“Yes,” I agreed.  “And you have no reason to feel jealous of Lance.  As far as I’m concerned, he’s still the same, silly boy I’ve always known.” 
That
was a bald-faced lie. 

“Okay.”

“I’m happy you made up with your brother today.”

“Me too
.  Goodnight, princess,” he said.

“Goodnight,”
I responded, feeling a bit guilty.

He turne
d off the light but I couldn’t sleep.  As I stared into the darkness, I really didn’t know what to make of Michael’s jealousy, especially since it had never been a problem in the past.  Ironically, I had always been the one with the twinge of jealousy due to the long line of beautiful, sophisticated women Michael had dated prior to meeting me.  In addition to this, I knew Michael had not remained celibate for the last twenty years.  I didn’t ask and he didn’t confess anything, but I’m not stupid.  My husband is handsome, powerful and rich- three of the most potent aphrodisiacs to women.

After breakfast
the following morning, Michael announced he had to meet someone downtown.  He also mentioned he would be busy all day due to meetings.  He left after a quick cup of coffee and some toast.

I
decided to take advantage of Michael’s absence by paying a visit to the local locksmith.  I remembered the trunk’s lock was similar to a padlock, but with a smooth round hole on the bottom.  I wanted to go up to the attic to take another look to make sure, but I didn’t dare with Juana buzzing around the house.  She would certainly alert Michael if she suspected anything out of the ordinary.  Hopefully, the locksmith would have some type of universal skeleton key.  I’d go up and test it when Juana had her next day off.  I ran upstairs to grab my purse and coat, and then headed out to my car. 

Carlos greeted me
as he carried out a trash barrel.  “Good morning, Mrs. Adams,” he said cheerfully.

“Good morning, Carlos.”

“Off to enjoy another gorgeous day?”

“Just going to the drug store
to pick up some toothpaste.  I’ll be right back.”

Why did I lie?
 

As I settled behind the wheel
I knew Carlos was watching me so I looked at him and waved.  He waved back as I sped down the drive.  The nearest locksmith was only a fifteen-minute drive away.  After describing the trunk’s lock in great detail, I was assured that one of the skeleton keys he had in stock should work.  I purchased every one he had in the store.

Carlos was still outs
ide when I returned, only now he was raking leaves.  He looked up and smiled, but said nothing.  I noticed his eyes searching my hands for a shopping bag.  Quickly, I unlocked the front door and went inside. 

I heard Juana
humming as she cleaned Michael’s office.  I knew I should wait until she had the day off to test the keys, but I was simply too curious.   With the stealth of a cat, I made my way upstairs.  I took the skeleton keys out of my purse and crept up to the attic.  I froze when I approached the spot where Maria and I had stood only yesterday.

The trunk was gone!

I searched the entire attic and it was not there.  Puzzled, I slowly made my way downstairs.  I went into my bedroom and thought about what to do next. 

“Is something wrong, Mrs. Adams?”

I gasped in surprise.  It was Juana.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I did not mean to startle you,” she said.

“What are you doing?” I demanded harshly without thinking.

Juana looked at me
strangely.  “I am replacing the towels in your bathroom, Mrs. Adams.  Are you feeling all right?”

I
looked at the stack of towels in her arms and felt suddenly foolish.  I was still wearing my coat.  “Yes, Juana, I’m fine.  I just ran out to the drugstore…Sorry.”

“Shall I make you some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

Juana excused herself and we
nt into the bathroom.  I hung my coat and pretended to clean out my purse until she went downstairs again.  I sat on the bed and tried to figure out why the trunk was missing and who could have taken it away.  Juana seemed very apprehensive about me learning of its existence.  Had she told Michael?  Was it he who moved the trunk?  What could possibly be hiding inside?

I needed to talk to somebody…but whom?  I couldn’t call my
mother because it would only cause her to worry.  Maddy wouldn’t know what to make of it, either.  Why upset her needlessly?  I couldn’t ask anything of the house staff since they were loyal to Michael.  There was Lance, but after Michael’s confession of jealousy, I didn’t want to risk further problems. 

I felt suddenly consumed by an intense feeling of isolation
.

 

Chapter Six

Christmas

 

Michael decided to host a grand
holiday party in honor of my first Christmas as a cryo-person.  It would be an elegant white tie affair, and it would be covered by the media (who had been pestering my husband since my awakening).  Michael had given a few journalists permission to attend the event.  In his opinion, I had healed sufficiently and it was time for the public to get a glimpse of me leading a normal life. 

Two of the nation’s top ch
efs were flown in, and Michael spared nothing: beluga caviar, black and white Tuscan truffles, several cases of Brunello and Prosecco, lobster tails, fresh oysters-
the works
.  Michael’s generosity was extended to me, my mother and my sister in the form of a luxurious spa day at one of the city’s most distinguished salons.  He declared that I should not stress or worry about the party preparations.  My duty was to look and feel fabulous at his side, and be a gracious hostess.

We
arrived at the spa shortly after lunch.  We enjoyed full body massages, manicures, facials, chocolate dipped strawberries with expensive French champagne, and exotic hair treatments.  As we each sat in our respective salon chairs, I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of being pampered.  Maddy was getting her hair blown dry into a straight, chic style and my mother opted for the classic French twist.  My hairdresser created a high, loose chignon with several locks of hair carefully draped over my shoulder like a Greek goddess. 

I looked at the clock on the wall.  “Five forty five and we still need
makeovers.  Do you think we’ll be done by six-thirty?” I asked of my hairdresser.

“Yes, Mrs. Adams.  The makeup artists are pros,” she replied.

“What time are the guests arriving?” Maddy asked as she was being led to a makeup chair across the salon.

“Around seven-thirty,
maybe eight,” I replied.

“Will Lance be there
, too?” my mother asked, taking her seat beside Maddy. 

The makeup artists were already busily
cleaning their brushes and getting ready to create their magic.  My hairdresser seated me beside my mother. 

“He should be there.  We sent him an invitation,” I replied.
 

“I think it’s great that he and Michae
l buried the hatchet.”

I waited for the makeup artist to apply powder to my face before turning
to look at my mother in surprise.  “What do you know about their falling out, mom?”

“Go lig
ht on the eyes shadow dear,” she said to her makeup artist before answering my question.  “Not much except what you told me.”

“Neither of them has ever revealed
the reason,” I said. “I’m just glad they’re on better terms.  Michael invited Lance to play golf in Florida two weekends ago.”

“Lucky Lance,” Maddy said.

My mother cocked an eyebrow.  “That was nice of Michael.”

After several minutes the three makeup artists stepped back, and we
gazed in admiration at our mirrored reflections.

“I don’t think I’
ve ever looked or felt this glamorous in my life,” my mother said, turning her face to the side to get a better look at her eye makeup.

“Me either,” Maddy said. 
“I look pretty hot, don’t I?”

“Definitely,” I agreed.

We left the salon feeling like movie stars and raced home in order to get dressed.  Juana had picked up our gowns from the seamstress in the afternoon after they had made a few necessary alterations.  Michael was not kidding when he told me to look perfect.  I had insisted my mother and sister spend the day with me, so their dresses had been delivered, too.

Over eighty
distinguished guests would show up in their holiday finery.  Both my mother and Maddy chose to wear simple gowns in classic black satin.  Since my husband insisted I stand out as hostess, I opted for a cream satin haute couture creation straight from the House of Givenchy in Paris.  The strapless gown was fitted on top and gradually flared into an A-line skirt covered with decorative black crystal beading.  The result was stunning and dramatic.

“Look at us,” Maddy said.  “We’re gorgeous!  And we still have plenty of time to enjoy a cocktail before the party starts.” 

My mother nodded in agreement.  “I could go for a martini.”

“Mom!” Maddy exclaimed. 

“What?  I was drinking martinis before you were born.”

“Well, I’m not carrying you out if you get drunk,” Maddy teased.

My mother chuckled.  “Don’t you worry about that,” she retorted.  “I’ve never been drunk in my life.”  She paused to think and then added, “Okay, that was a lie.”

We laughed aloud at her confession
.

“Go ahead and have a blast, mom.  I’m sure Michael or Carlos can easily lift you
up if you need to crash here tonight,” I said.

“Oh, good
, dear.  Well, let’s get started, shall we?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of mom,” Maddy whispered in my ear as we descended the stairs.  “I like her wild.”

“Me, too,” I confessed.

“I’m old but not deaf,” she
said, keeping pace behind us.

My sister laughed aloud.  We stopped to a
dmire the handiwork of the event planners who had transformed our home into a Winter Wonderland full of white lights and evergreen arrangements.  A professional DJ was doing sound tests and playing snippets of the latest hits.  Soon, music filled every room in the house; loud enough to inspire dancing, soft enough to allow people to talk without shouting.  Michael only hired the best.

“It’s like a
giant design studio,” Maddy said.

“No kidding,” I agreed.

One of the caterers approached to take our drink order.  A moment later, he came back with my mother’s martini and two gin and tonics.  We took our respective drinks and held them up.

“Cheers!”

Michael came down a few minutes later looking extremely handsome in an expertly-cut black jacket and immaculate white pinafore.  His white silk cravat was perfect, and the cuff links he chose to wear consisted of large onyx stones studded with diamonds.

“You three lo
ok absolutely spectacular,” he said.

“You don’t look so ba
d yourself,” I retorted playfully.

He kissed my hand. 
“I know better than to kiss your lips or face.”  He did the same to my sister and my mother.  “Lee, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you all dolled up.  You look wonderful.”


Thank you, Michael.  It must have costs you a small fortune to make me look this good,” she said.

He chuckled
.  “Nonsense.”

Maria and Juan
a approached wearing identical black formal maid uniforms.  I noticed Maria staring at my husband with a strange expression on her face, something akin to anger.  I quickly glanced over at Michael and saw him meet Maria’s gaze with what appeared to be remorse.   

“Mr. Adams, the guests are beginn
ing to arrive,” Juana said.

Maria turned her face away and said nothing. 
Luxury cars began to come up the drive.  Thankfully, Michael had the good sense to hire a valet parking service. 

My mother took both of my hands into her own.  “It’s time for us to step back and let you shine, sweetheart.”

“Go get ‘em,” Maddy added.

They watched as Michael and I headed for the front door and raised their glasses at me. 
As the guests poured in, we greeted them warmly and welcomed them into our home.  There were so many famous local faces, including that of the president and first lady.

A
fter saying a few obligatory words to the invited journalists and posing with my husband for a few image shots, I rejoined the party while Michael escorted them out.  The journalists attended our event with the understanding that they would leave once they got their story.  There were many prominent people wandering through our house, and none of them wanted to be under the nose of pesky reporters. 

As I chatted with one of the guests, I noticed
Michael walking in the direction of his office.  Just about everyone who was expected to arrive had arrived, which meant I could have a break.  I took a deep breath and looked around.  People seemed to be having fun, but I also noticed a lot of networking and serious conversations taking place.  Michael mentioned that most of the people present were affiliated in some way with ALTSYS.  Businessmen, politicians and entrepreneurs- all of them had a vested interest in clean energy.

My mouth was dry from so much talking and I definitely needed
a drink.  As I walked towards a caterer bearing a tray full of champagne-filled flutes, I noticed an attractive man staring at me from across the room.  His smoldering dark eyes and caramel skin were exotic.  He didn’t look familiar, so I assumed he was one of Michael’s new business associates.  I smiled slightly in greeting and he slowly inclined his head in return without breaking eye contact.  Perhaps in his mid-forties, his expensive designer tuxedo and diamond Rolex screamed:
money
.  Something about him and the way he looked at me made me wary, however.

“Hello gorgeous
,” said a familiar voice in my ear as I snatched a crystal flute from the tray.

I turned my head and
a pair of blue eyes met mine.  “Lance!” 

He embraced me. 
When he let go, I glanced over my shoulder.  The mysterious dark-eyed man was gone.

“Merry Christmas, Zoë”

“Merry Christmas,” I said before I took a sip of champagne.

His eye
s slowly took in every inch of me from head to foot.  “Wow.  You look…ravishing.”


Thank you.  I thought you had forgotten about the party,” I said, feeling my face burn under his scrutiny.

“Are you kidding?  This is the social event of the century. 
Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier.  I was tied up.”

I took another sip.  The
champagne was going straight to my head.  “That’s okay.  The party only started a few minutes ago for me.  The first two hours were spent meeting and greeting people, and then doing a brief interview with journalists.”

“So
I came just in time to ask you to dance,” he said, taking the flute from my hand, drinking the remainder of its contents and setting it back on the tray.

Before I could protest, Lance gripped my hand and led me to the small crowded dance floor that had been set up near the DJ.  Pulling me into his arms, he began to lead in tune to the music and I followed.  His
shoulders were broad and his cologne was subtle; a combination of citrus and leather.  I’ve never been so close to Lance except for brief hugs, so I never really noticed how tall he was.  Even with high heels on, I still had to tilt my head slightly to look at his face. 

“You smell nice,” he said, smiling down at me.

“So do you,” I replied.

Why was my heart beating so fast?

I felt the weight and warmth of his hand in the middle of my back.  Slowly, it slid lower and drew me in closer.  I heard him sigh quietly near my ear and it gave me goose bumps. 
Oh God...

I stiffened
in his grasp and he pulled back.


I see that Michael chose to display his Matisse collection,” he said as he looked at the series of paintings hanging on the main wall.  He was trying to sound nonchalant, casual.


He thought the vivid colors would add some holiday cheer.  The Picasso is in the hallway.”

“Nice choice.  Where is Michael
, by the way?” he asked, searching the room with his eyes.

“I last saw him
somewhere over there,” I replied, pointing in the general direction of his office.

At that moment, I noticed my
mother coming from the direction I was pointing.  Her expression was troubled and intense; she seemed to be searching the crowd for someone.  I watched as she walked into the kitchen. 

Maddy approached
the dance floor.  “Hey, stranger, can I cut in?”

“Maddy!
” Lance said.


You can take my place,” I said to my sister as I stepped away from Lance.  “Thanks for the dance, but I need to check on my mom.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink before sweeping Maddy onto the dance floor.

“Oh, let her be.  Mom’s probably getting drunk and having a great time,” Maddy said.

I craned my neck to see if my
mother had come out of the kitchen yet.  I caught sight of Michael storming out of his office.  His expression was fierce.  He searched the crowd with the same determination my mother had, and then went into the kitchen.  He came back out almost immediately.

What in the world wa
s going on?

As
I made my way through the crowd, Michael caught sight of me and walked towards me.  “Zoë, you need to come with me right away,” he said.

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