Stabbing Stephanie (9 page)

Stephanie took a forkful of quiche. “By fun,” she said, smiling urbanely, “I suppose you mean working with Faith Carson.”

“No, not at all. I mean going from advertising, which you don't seem to have liked, to this new job in publishing. Kenneth used to say that when he was an editor, he'd had the most fun working for the smaller, more intimate companies. Everybody got to do a little bit of everything. It was a looser, more relaxed atmosphere.”

“Mm,” Stephanie murmured, seeming not to have heard what Jane had said. She let out an easy laugh. “Everyone's always been positively agog”—she drawled heavily on
agog
—“at the idea of my being best friends with Faith Carson, but they don't understand that to me, she's just good old Faithie, my roommate at Wellesley.”

Florence piped up, “She may be good old Faithie to you, but her arrival in Shady Hills has created quite a stir, I can tell you that. You know, a former
queen . . .”

Stephanie stared at Florence as if surprised that she had dared to speak two sentences in a row. Florence's smile abruptly vanished. She took a deep breath and removed her napkin from her lap. “Missus,” she said, “if you'll excuse me, I'm not feeling very hungry.”

“Y-yes, of course,” Jane said, hurting for Florence, and watched her get up from the table and walk into the kitchen. Yes, the sooner Stephanie left, the better. She turned to her; she looked happier now that Florence had departed.

“So,” Jane said, fighting hard to control her anger, “you said you'll be working for Carson & Hart as an editor?”

“Mm-hm.” Stephanie speared some salad. “You'd be surprised at how many different programs they've got going.”

At that moment Winky appeared in the archway to the living room. She glared at Stephanie, seemed to make a decision, and leapt onto the table.

“Winky!” Jane jumped up and shooed Winky off the table, but Winky opted for halfway, perching on Florence's vacated chair.

“A cat,” Stephanie said. From the tone of her voice it was unclear to Jane whether to Stephanie this was a bad thing or a good thing.

“Yes, Kenneth gave Winky to Nicholas as a kitten. We adore her—don't we, Wink?”

“How sweet,” Stephanie drawled. “Which reminds me, Faithie said something about a big new project involving cats.” Before Jane could ask for details she went on, “More than that, however, I don't know.”

Winky jumped down from Florence's chair, walked around the table, and hopped up onto the empty chair next to Stephanie with a rumbling purr. “Nice little kitty,” Stephanie said, reaching out to pet her. Suddenly Winky bristled and let out a vicious hiss. Stephanie snatched back her hand as if it had been burned.

“Winky!” Jane scolded her, and turned to Stephanie. “I don't know what's come over her. No manners at all,” she told the cat, and rising to shoo her completely out of the room, she smiled to herself at Winky's shrewd judgment of character. “I'm so sorry,” she said, coming back into the room.

“Don't worry about it,” Stephanie said with a laugh. “This is all so charming, really, and I'm just thrilled to be out of boring old Boston. You couldn't have been more correct about my job with that horrid ad agency.”

“Advertising's not for you, then,” Jane said solemnly.

“No . . . though it took me a long time to figure that out. I must confess I was so bored with my work that I did a terrible job. I mean, can you imagine writing ad copy for cough syrup? Me!” She looked down at her plate. “It was downhill from there. My work was horrid, we lost the client, and I knew I was going to get fired. Which would have been no more than I deserved, I suppose.”

“So this opportunity came along just in time.”

“Absolutely. What was there to keep me in Boston? I have no ties—no boyfriend, at least not at the moment . . .”

Jane couldn't help thinking of the mink coat.

“. . . no husband, no one who needed me. And here was my dearest friend. So I decided to go for it.” Stephanie shrugged. “And if, by some chance, things don't work out, maybe I can be of use to you in your little literary agency!”

Jane felt the blood drain from her face. She would rather die. Besides, she had no intention of hiring anyone in addition to Daniel; she hadn't the need, the room, or the money for anyone else.

She just smiled sweetly and took a bite of quiche.

 

 

After lunch, Jane showed Stephanie the house. Florence was nowhere to be found. Checking her watch, Jane saw that it was 2:45 and realized that Florence had gone to pick up Nick at school.

Jane took Stephanie outside. Standing in the backyard, gazing up into the pines and then back at the house, Stephanie shook her head in wonder. “It's all so . . . village.”

“Yes,” Jane conceded, “this is a village.”

“You know what I mean. It's got that cozy, everybody-knows-everybody-else's-business feeling. I've had that sense ever since I stepped off the train. And I'm very good at picking up vibrations from places.” She shivered—they had come outside without their coats.

“I'll get your coat,” Jane said, then had an idea. “Would you like to walk a little around the neighborhood? It'll give us some more time to chat—and get some exercise.” She grimaced, rolling her eyes heavenward. “I'm supposed to be on the Stillkin diet, but I haven't done very well so far. I'm either determined not to be on a diet, or I just forget!”

“But you look marvelous. Why do you want to diet?”

“Thanks, but I've got eight pounds I want gone before I go on vacation.”

“Gotcha. Sure, let's walk. I'll pick up vibes.”

Walking back into the house, Jane resolved to try to get to know Stephanie better,
and
to like her. Surely she had some redeeming qualities Jane simply hadn't found yet.

In the foyer she got Stephanie her mink and put on her own charcoal wool; then they went out the front door, turned right, and started down the hill.

Stephanie stopped and took in Audrey and Elliott Fairchild's massive Tudor across the street. “Now
that's
a house. I needed a house just like that for one of my ad campaigns.”

“That's Audrey and Elliott Fairchild. He's medical director of NJRI—New Jersey Rehabilitation Institute.”

Stephanie looked impressed. “Are you close friends with them?”

Jane had to laugh. It wasn't really possible to be close to Audrey. “I wouldn't say
close
.
Friendly
is more like it. Nice people, though,” she added quickly. “They have a teenage daughter, Cara.”

“That's nice. Houses, houses,” Stephanie mused, looking down, her hands shoved deep in her mink pockets. “I've got to find a place to live. An apartment. And the sooner the better. I don't want to be a burden on you.”

“Don't be silly. There's an apartment broker down in the village who I hear is quite good. If you like, I'll take you there this afternoon.”

“Perfect. If they're willing, I'll look all afternoon today, and if I see something right I'll grab it. Remember, I'm starting work tomorrow. I'd thought about stopping in at the office, but I don't want to bother Faithie and Gav while they're setting up.”

Jane nodded. At the bottom of Lilac Way they turned left onto Oakmont, a busier street with a sidewalk. Even with the biting cold edge to the air, it was a glorious sunny day, the sky a hard cloudless blue.

When they reached Magnolia Lane, which climbed back up the hill on their left, Stephanie stopped and gazed upward. “Now this street looks intriguing. More picturesque cottages up there?”

There was at least one: the bungalow that had once been occupied by Roger Haines. That had been during that horrid business with Marlene, Jane's nanny before Florence. Come to think of it, Jane's business with Roger had turned out equally horrid, teaching her never to become intimate—at least, not
that
intimate—with a client again. Jane avoided this street whenever possible, but Stephanie was clearly intrigued. “We can go up here if you like,” Jane said.

They started up.

“Your friend Faith . . .” Jane began. “As Florence said, she's creating quite a stir here in town.”

Stephanie laughed. “Faith always does. She's one of those women people either love or hate. But if you really get to know her, you can't help loving her. She's good people.”

Jane doubted whether she would trust Stephanie's judgment when it came to “good people,” but nodded politely. “You were roommates at Wellesley, you said.”

“Mm. Long time ago now. Twenty-one years.” She looked wistful. “You should have seen her then. But of course you've seen pictures. She was really quite ravishing. That Grace Kelly look. She was the quintessential Boston debutante.”

Roger's bungalow, as Jane thought of it, was coming up on the right. She looked away. “How did Faith meet the prince?”

Stephanie gave a tiny shrug. “It was just another party, really. Just a bunch of us Wellesley girls hanging around on a Saturday night. One of our friends had invited her boyfriend over from Harvard, and he brought a whole bunch of other guys. One of them was Ravi. That was his actual name. Officially, he was called the Maharaj Kumar—which means crown prince—of Ananda. Do you know much about Ananda?”

Jane shook her head, then remembered what Florence had told her. “Only that some people likened it to heaven.”

Stephanie's features softened and her eyes unfocused, as if she were there again. “It really was heaven. A teeny place, smaller than Rhode Island, high up in the Himalayas, between China and India. I can still see those neat little houses climbing the mountainsides, and at the top of the highest mountain of all was the palace, a massive structure all of wood. It was literally in the clouds most of the time. The first thing Faithie said when she saw Ananda was, ‘It's Shangri-la.'

“Anyway, Ravi was as handsome as Faith was beautiful, and the two of them fell madly in love on sight. I've never seen anything quite like it. They behaved as if they were destined to be together, and you know”—Stephanie looked directly at Jane—“I believe they were.”

“What was Ravi doing at Harvard?”

“Finishing his doctorate studies—he was a few years older than Faith. He was studying political economy at the Kennedy School.”

“Ah, an enlightened ruler.”

“That was the original plan,” Stephanie said uneasily.

“His father, the king, wanted Ravi to learn about the world, about business, international trade, those sorts of things. He wanted Ravi to bring Ananda into the twentieth century. But once Ravi laid eyes on Faithie, I don't think he was interested in much besides being with her.”

They had reached the top of the hill, where Magnolia Lane veered off into a cul-de-sac and became Magnolia Place. Jane led the way in, thinking Stephanie would find it interesting. Once, there had been only a steep wooded cliff here. In the past year a developer had created a winding road down this cliff's side, and along this road he had built “executive homes”—enormous luxury houses with price tags in excess of a million dollars.

Stephanie glanced down the new road, where the roof of the highest house could be seen through the bare trees. “Money down there. That's an easy vibe.”

“You got that right,” Jane said with a laugh. “The new money in Shady Hills. Puffy hates it.”

“Oh, you know Puffy. Then you know she and Oren own the building Faithie and Gav are moving into?”

“Yes.”

“Puffy and Oren were at Faith and Ravi's wedding,” Stephanie said, a distant look in her eyes.

“So I've heard. How soon after Faith and Ravi met did they marry?”

“About a year.” Stephanie turned with Jane and they walked out of Magnolia Place and back onto Magnolia Lane, continuing through the woods. “It was right after Faith graduated from Wellesley, and Ravi had finished his doctorate,” Stephanie went on. “It all worked out just right. And the wedding . . .” She cast up her eyes. “Perfection.

“We all flew to Ananda—which was an experience in itself—and there, among the clouds, in an incredible ceremony, my little Faithie became Her Majesty the Crown Princess. I was her maid of honor.

“Well! The media went bananas. They played the whole thing up as another Grace Kelly, Lisa Halaby, Hope Cooke sort of thing, which I suppose it was. Very romantic. And of course they all pointed out that when Ravi's father the king died, Ravi would become king— he was an only child, so there was no question about that—and Faith would be his queen. Can you imagine? Queen of Ananda!”

“Unbelievable,” Jane said.

“Then came the best part, and I was there to see it. Faithie was afraid to be alone—you know, without someone from home around—so she asked me to stay on for a while, and I did. I stayed four months, in fact. Anyway, after the wedding, Ravi gave Faith something incredible.” Stephanie shook her head. “When I think what I had to go through to get this miserable mink coat . . .”

“What was it?”

Stephanie stopped. Her eyes grew huge. “Have you ever heard,” she said softly, “of the Star of Ananda?”

Jane was beginning to wish she'd read
Queen of Heaven
. “No.”

“I wish you could have seen it,” Stephanie said, shaking her head. “The Star itself was a star sapphire, a huge stone, very smooth and round, about the size of an egg. It was blue . . . cashmere-blue is what they called it. And it weighed forty carats.”