You belong to me (16 page)

After less than two days the nurses in the station outside the intensive care unit almost seemed like old friends. The one on desk duty answered Pamela's unasked question: "She's holding her own, but still very critical. There is a chance that she's coming out of the coma. We felt she was trying to say something earlier this morning, but then she lapsed back It's a good sign, though."

"Is Justin here?"

"He's on his way."

"Is it okay if I go in to see her?"

"Yes, but only stay for a minute. And talk to her. No matter what most of the doctors say, I swear some supposedly comatose people know exactly what's going on. They just can't reach us."

Pam tiptoed past three units that housed other desperately ill patients before she reached the one in which Carolyn was lying. She looked down at her friend, heartsick at what she saw. Emergency surgery had been performed to reduce brain swelling, and Carolyn's head was covered in bandages. Tubes and drains invaded her body from all angles. Her nose was covered with an oxygen mask, and purple bruises on her neck and arms were testimony to the violent impact of the van.

Pamela still found it almost impossible to believe that something so terrible as this could have followed the happy evening she had shared with Carolyn only a few nights ago.

Happy until I started doing readings, she thought-and Carolyn brought out that turquoise ring-

Careful not to exert any pressure, she placed her hand over Carolyn's. "Hi, babe," she whispered.

Did she sense a faint stirring, or was she just wishing for response?

"Carolyn, you're doing great. They tell me you're on the verge of waking up. That's wonderful." Pamela stopped. She had been about to say that Justin was frantic with worry, but realized that now she was afraid to bring up his name. Suppose he had pushed Carolyn? Suppose Carolyn had realized that it was him behind her on that corner?

"Win."

Carolyn's lips had barely moved, and what came from them was more a sigh than a word. Still, Pamela knew she had heard it accurately.

She bent over the bed, putting her lips to Carolyn's ear. "Babe, listen to me. I think you said 'Win.' Is that a name? If that's what you mean, squeeze my hand."

She was sure she felt a hint of pressure.

"Pam, is she waking up?"

Justin was there, looking somewhat disheveled, his face flushed and strained, as though he had been running. Pamela did not want to tell him what she thought Carolyn had said. "Get the nurse, Justin. I think she's trying to talk."

"Win!"

This time the word was clear, unequivocal, and the tone was imploring.

Justin Wells bent over his wife's bed. "Carolyn, I'm not going to let anyone else have you. I'll make it up to you. Please, I'll get help. I promised last time that I would, and I didn't, but this time I will. I promise. I promise. Just please, please come back to me."

47

Although Emily Chandler had maintained her membership in the Westchester Country Club after the divorce, she did not go there very often for fear of running into her successor, Binky. But since she loved golf, and Binky wasn't a golfer, the only real area of concern was a chance encounter in the clubhouse. And because she did enjoy meeting her friends for lunch there occasionally, Emily had figured a way to avoid any unpleasant meetings.

She would call the maŒtre d', ask if the Trophy Wife was expected, and if he said she wasn't, then Emily would make a reservation.

That was how it worked out on Wednesday, and as a result, she and Nan Lake, a longtime pal-whose husband, Dan, regularly played golf with Charles-were meeting for lunch,

Emily had dressed with special care for the meeting. Always in the back of her mind there lurked the possibility that Charley might just happen to be there as well. Today she had chosen a F‚raud pant suit in a tiny blue-and-white check that she knew suited her ash blond hair. Earlier, while looking in the mirror for a final check, she had thought of the many times people expressed surprise that she was Dee's mother.

"You look like sisters!" they would exclaim, which made her very proud, though she knew they were exaggerating.

Emily also knew it was time to put the divorce behind her, time to get on with her life. In many ways she had succeeded in overcoming the initial outrage and bitterness she had felt over what she still considered to be Charley's betrayal. But even after four years, some nights she still woke up and lay sleepless for hours, not angry but infinitely sad, remembering that for a very long time she and Charley had been happy together-genuinely happy.

We had fun, she thought, as she prepared to leave for the club. She turned on the alarm system of the town house she had bought after the breakup. Every step of the way, we had fun. Charley and I were in love. We did things together. It wasn't as though I let myself fall apart; I've kept my body in good shape. Emily got into her car. For God's sake, she asked herself, what made him change overnight; what made him just throw away our life together?

The sense of desertion was so great that she knew, even though she found it almost impossible to admit to herself, that it would have been easier if Charley-Charles had died instead of just leaving her. But hard to admit or not, it was a fact, and she knew Susan suspected and probably understood.

She didn't know what she would have done without Susan. She had been there for her from the first day, when Emily had really doubted that she could go on. It had been a long process, but now she felt she was almost able to make it on her own.

She had followed Susan's advice to make a list of the activities in which she always had intended to become involved-and then to do something about it. As a result she was now an active volunteer with the hospital auxiliary, and this year was chairing its annual fundraiser. Last year she had been an active campaigner for the governor's reelection.

One other activity she had undertaken she had kept to herself, not even telling Susan, perhaps because it was the most important thing she ever had done. She had started volunteering at a hospital for chronically ill children.

She found it a truly rewarding experience, and it helped her to put things into perspective. It reminded her of the old saying, which was so very true: You feel sorry for the man who has no shoes until you meet one who has no feet. After those mornings at the hospital, she returned home and reminded herself to count her blessings each and every day.

She arrived at the club before Nan and went directly to the table. She had been feeling guilty ever since Sunday, the fortieth anniversary of her marriage to Charley. She had been so down and depressed-and also so self-indulgent She knew she had upset Susan with her tearful outburst on Saturday, and then Dee had made it worse by lacing into Susan, saying she didn't understand what it was to lose someone.

Susan understands a lot more than Dee likes to believe, Emily told herself. At the time of Charley's and my breakup, Dee was in California with Jack, busy and happy. First, Susan had had to get over Jack's betrayal, and then she was there, giving support to me. Plus, Charley didn't have time for her once Binky came into the picture, which must have hurt, since she always had been a Daddy's girl.

"Are we off in a dream world?" a teasing voice asked.

"Nan!" Emily jumped up and hugged her friend, as they exchanged brief air kisses. "Yes, I guess I am." She looked with fondness at Nan. "You look great."

It was true. At sixty, Nan, a slender brunette with a fine-boned face and body, was still a beautiful woman.

"And so do you," Nan said emphatically. "Let's face it, Em. We're hanging in there."

"Fighting the good fight," Emily agreed. "A tuck here, a nip there. Age gracefully, but not too fast."

"So, have you missed me?" Nan asked. She had been in Florida with her ailing mother for over a month, having returned only the week before.

"You know I have. There were a few bumpy days there," Emily confided.

They decided to forget the calorie counting today. A glass of Chardonnay and a club sandwich sounded just the thing to both of them.

The wine arrived, and serious gossip began.

Emily told her friend how blue she had been on Sunday. "What really got me was that the Trophy threw that party on our fortieth anniversary-and Charley let her do it."

"You know it was deliberate," Nan said. "It's so typically Binky. I have to confess to you that even I was at the party for a little while. I didn't see Susan, though. Apparently she had already left. I guess she just made a token appearance."

There was something in Nan's voice that reflected concern. Emily did not have to wait to find out what it was.

"Em, in the long run, it probably won't matter, but Binky can't stand Susan. She knows that it was Susan who talked Charles into taking a vacation alone so he could think things through quietly right after he told you he wanted to break up. That Binky got her man anyway doesn't seem to matter. She'll still never forgive her."

Emily nodded.

"She does, however, seem to like Dee. So, Binky invited Alex Wright to the party so the two of them could meet. Only Dee wasn't there when he arrived, so he ended up having a long chat with Susan, and from what I hear, he was pretty much taken with her. That certainly wasn't part of Binky's master plan."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that if by any chance Susan does hear from Alex, and a relationship does begin to develop between them, she should be aware that Binky will do her best to sabotage it. Binky loves to pit people against each other. She's a manipulator par excellence."

"By pitting people against each other, you mean Susan and Dee?"

"Yes, I do. For Binky to be so furious, Alex Wright must have been pretty emphatic about how attractive he found Susan. Because, believe me, she was furious. Of course, I don't know Alex well at all. I gather he's not a party kind of guy, but I do know that the Wright Family Foundation-which he runs-has done immeasurable good, and while some guys with vast amounts of family money turn into playboys, he's apparently serious about what's important. In fact, he's just the kind of guy I wish Susan would get involved with-since I couldn't foster a match between her and Bobby."

Bobby was Nan's oldest son. He and Susan had been friends since childhood but never had been romantic about each other. Bobby was married now, but Nan still joked about the fact that she and Em had lost their chance to have joint grandchildren.

"I wish both Susan and Dee would meet someone they could be happy with," Emily said, uncomfortable in the knowledge that, even without prodding from Binky, Dee would willingly go after Alex Wright if she became interested in him.

She was aware also that Nan had subtly but quite deliberately made that point. Her message was that Susan should be made aware of Binky's scheming, and that Dee should be told to leave Alex Wright alone.

"And now for a piece of gossip you'll really be interested in," Nan said, bending closer to her friend and glancing around to be sure the waiter was not near the table. "Charley and Dan played golf together yesterday. Charley is thinking of retiring! Apparently the board of Bannister Foods wants a younger chairman-CEO and has been making overtures about offering him a golden parachute. Charley told Dan that he'd rather leave gracefully than be forced out. But there's just one problem: When he broached the subject to Binky, she had a fit. He told Dan that she said that living with a retired husband was like having a piano in the kitchen. Which to my mind translates to 'useless and in the way.'"

Nan paused and leaned back. Then, arching her eyebrows for effect, she continued: "Do you think there could be trouble in paradise?"

48

Before leaving the studio, Susan phoned her office. She knew there was a strong possibility that her one o'clock appointment might have canceled. The patient, Linda, a forty-year-old copywriter whose pet, a golden retriever, had just been put down, was trying to work her way out of depression and bereavement. They'd had only two sessions, but already Susan was sure that the basic source of Linda's trouble was not the honest grief over the loss of a beloved pet, but the recent, sudden death of the adoptive mother from whom Linda had been estranged.

Her hunch that Linda would cancel proved correct. "She says she's really sorry, but that an important meeting came up at work," Janet explained.

Maybe yes, maybe no, Susan thought, making a mental note to call Linda later. "Any other messages?" she asked.

"Just one. Mrs. Clausen wants you to call her anytime after three. Oh, and you've got a gorgeous bouquet of flowers sitting on your desk"

"Flowers! Who sent them?"

"The card is sealed, so of course I didn't open it," Janet replied smugly. "I'm sure the note must be personal."

"Open it now, please, and read it to me." Susan raised her eyes to heaven. Janet was an excellent secretary in so many ways, but her need to editorialize was a source of constant exasperation.

Janet was back a moment later. "I knew it was personal, Doctor." She began to read: "'Thanks for a great evening. Looking forward to Saturday.' It's signed 'Alex.'"

Susan felt a sudden lifting of her spirits. "Nice of him," she said, careful to keep her tone noncommittal. "Janet, since I don't have anything on my schedule until two o'clock, I think I'll run an errand."

Less than a minute later, Susan was outside, hailing a taxi. She had decided that the next thing she had to do was to talk to whoever on the police force was in charge of the investigation of Carolyn Wells's accident. Now that she was certain that it was Carolyn who called the show on Monday and identified herself as Karen, she had to find out if the police had given any credence to the version of the incident that elderly woman had given them-that Carolyn Wells had been pushed in front of the van.

The article she had read in the Times this morning had reported that the investigations into both Carolyn's accident and Hilda Johnson's murder were being handled by the 19th Precinct.

Clearly that was the place to start looking for answers.

Despite Oliver Baker's resolute eyewitness account that Carolyn Wells had lost her balance and fallen, Police Captain Tom Shea was still not satisfied. Given Hilda Johnson's perhaps too-public proclamation that she had seen someone push Wells, he was having trouble accepting the elderly woman's death as a mere coincidence, and the result of a random killing. It all came back to several basic questions: How did the perp get into the building in the first place? Then, how did he get into Hilda's apartment? And finally, why her apartment, and why only her apartment?