Sylvie leaned against the doors and breathed a deep sigh of relief. They were gone… halle-fucking-luiah! She loved her family, but there were times last night that she wanted to strangle them. They snooped around the place, then gathered in front of the gas-fired fireplace to address Sylvie’s emotional state of late and what they could do to help. Nothing! After a few minutes it became quite clear that the purpose of the whole exercise, the intervention, was to interrogate and annoy her. How was this supposed to make her feel better, cheer her up? She knew they meant well, so she tried to hold her tongue, but it was still irritating. She had always thought interventions were for people addicted to drugs and alcohol. She didn’t fall into either of those categories. But did that deter them…hell no! If they told her she worked too hard once, they told her dozens of times. They suspected she might be turning into a workaholic. That was automatic grounds for an intervention!
They demanded to know what was going on between her and Connor. Sylvie tried to ward off their prying questions, telling them she did not want to discuss the matter. That it was an extremely touchy subject for her and she would appreciate it if they’d avoid the topic. Fat chance! They charged right ahead, dissecting her life. They knew she and Connor had been living under the same roof in Saranac, and that although Sylvie had repeatedly told them it was a condition of her employment, they didn’t buy it. They weren’t idiots; they knew there was something more going on between them. It was hard to miss considering she and Connor had spent two nights sleeping in the same hotel room when they attended her dad’s wedding. It was obvious to everyone who saw them that they were shacking up so there was no need to deny it. What they wanted to know was the current state of things. Why she was moping around in his penthouse in the city, while he was still living in Saranac? They grilled her about how often she saw him and were shocked to learn she’d only seen him once in the last five weeks. Relationship problems? Definitely needed an intervention for that! Sara, always a pain in Sylvie’s ass, suddenly morphed into a yenta who deemed it her duty to offer advice.
‘So you broke up with him?’ Sara wanted to know, not the least bit shy about giving her the third degree. Her blue eyes were fixed on Sylvie, her eyebrow arching in irritation when the answer was slow in coming.
‘Not exactly,’ Sylvie responded.
‘What do you mean not exactly? You either broke up or you didn’t!’ Sara said, combing her fingers through her tousled brown curls. To Sara’s way of thinking things were either black or white. There were no shades of gray. How could you not know whether you were still together?
‘I can’t tell you what I don’t know.’ They could all hear the frustration in Sylvie’s voice.
Sara reacted like Sara. She shook her head and poured herself another glass of wine.
‘Is that what all this is about?’ Rebecca asked in concern, holding her hand up to Sara, indicating she should be quiet. Wow, Rebecca asserting herself? That didn’t happen very often. The others never let the poor girl get a word in. They steamrolled her every time she opened her mouth and tried to voice an opinion. Rebecca was tall with titian-red hair, big brown eyes, and a ton of freckles on her nose. She used to be model-thin, until she married her brother Mark; now she was constantly pregnant. The family always teased him about keeping his wife barefoot and pregnant. He’d retort that they didn’t have cable TV on the farm so they had to do something to pass the evenings. Rebecca was sucking down her wine like her life depended on it. Sylvie couldn’t blame her. She’d had five kids in seven years, the youngest only seven-months-old. Since she was knocked up most of the time and not allowed to drink, this evening was a real treat. ‘Did he throw you over for another girl?’ she wanted to know. Fueled by liquid courage, she sounded ready to give Connor hell.
‘No.’
‘Well then why? He’s not old enough to be a confirmed bachelor!’ Rebecca opined.
‘Wait. Is that the problem?’ Jessie chimed in. ‘He didn’t want a serious relationship and you did. He’s not interested in getting married and you are?’
Sylvie didn’t know how to answer that.
‘That bastard!’ Sara said, shaking her head.
‘He’s not a bastard, Sara. It’s not that simple,’ Sylvie tried to explain. ‘He told me from the very beginning that he wasn’t the marrying kind.’
‘And you thought you’d change his mind?’ Rebecca continued. ‘What happened? You pressed him for a commitment and he ended it?’
‘No. We just decided to take a break from one another for a while.’
‘How long is a while? Jessie wanted to know.
‘Honestly? I have no idea.’ Sylvie admitted.
‘I don’t get it. Then what are you doing here, living in his house?’ Sara challenged.
‘I’m still working for him. Except I work out of an office here instead of in Saranac.’
‘Do you think you’ll get back together?’ Jessie pried.
Sylvie had always liked Jess since the day her brother Luke first brought her home to meet the family. She was a natural beauty. Nearly six feet tall, she never wore makeup or fussed with her hair, preferring to wear her long dark brown locks up in a ponytail. Sylvie loved Jessie, but not when she butted into her life! What was with these women? Didn’t they understand the concept of personal boundaries? ‘I hope so, but there’s no way of telling. I’m just taking it one day at a time right now.’ She said it with as much conviction as she could muster, hoping they’d get the message and back the hell off!
Rebecca looked her straight in the eye, ‘And if he doesn’t come around, then what?’
Jesus Christ! Can’t they take a hint? ‘Don’t know. Haven’t planned that far ahead yet.’
‘And in the meantime, what? You just sit around scratching your ass waiting for him to make up his mind whether he wants you are not?’ Sara cut in. ‘The man may be rich, but he’s behaving like a fucking jerk. I thought he was a nice guy, but he’s a dick! You don’t need him! Cut the bastard loose and find someone else. There’s lots of fish in the sea.’
Wrong! She did need him! Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
Leona had remained quiet throughout the exchange. Sylvie could only guess that as the newest member of the family, Leona didn’t think she had the right to comment on her step-daughter’s love life. So she did the only thing she could: she reached out and grabbed Sylvie’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Sylvie could see why her father had fallen in love with her old teacher. She was pretty, stunning really, with silver gray hair and kind, hazel-green eyes. Leona was energetic and youthful, with a lovely figure. Sylvie had cringed, watching her reaction, every time one of the girls swore. It would probably take the woman time to get used to her new family’s penchant for foul language and profanity. Leona was a lady; she probably never heard language like this before, at least not without being able to send the offender down to the principal’s office or to detention. To her credit, she was trying to fit in; but thankfully, not enough to stick her nose where it didn’t belong… in other people’s business. She wished the others would take notice!
‘You need to get yourself out there!’ Sara was adamant. ‘Meet someone new. Like Grandma Price used to say: ‘Men are like streetcars. If you miss one, there’ll be another one by in five minutes.’ The old girl knew what she was talking about.’
Leave Grandma out of this! ‘I don’t want to meet anybody new,’ Sylvie insisted, raising her voice. ‘Things might work out between us. I’m not giving up yet!’
‘No one is saying you should throw in the towel,’ Rebecca countered. ‘But sometimes the best defense is a good offense. Especially when it comes to your love life! Maybe if you started going out with other men Connor will have second thoughts. Jealousy can be a helluva motivator. Guys just think they don’t want to get married. If it means losing the woman they love, they do a quick about-face.’
‘Is he the jealous type?’ Jessie inquired.
‘I suppose so,’ Sylvie responded. Boy! Was that an understatement! Do bears shit in the woods?
‘Good! That works in our favor!’ Jessie grinned. You could almost see the wheels turning in her head.
Our favor? Was she serious? Sylvie had no idea that this was a group effort! Machiavelli had nothing on these women when it came to devising plots and intrigues.
Sylvie really didn’t want to have this conversation. Bottom line…her love life, or rather lack of it, was her business. She appreciated their concern, but she wanted them to stop meddling in matters that didn’t concern them. They could never understand a man like Connor. They were old-fashioned in their thinking. Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love with girl. Boy gets lucky and beds girl. Then boy mans up and ‘puts a ring on it.’ They marry; and for all intents and purposes, they live happily ever after. That’s the way people do it in Wyoming; but not the way they do it in the big city— and Connor was a city boy.
The conversation seemed to go on for hours. And the longer they talked about the sorry state of Sylvie’s love life, the drunker they all got.
Even Meagan offered Sylvie advice, which was ludicrous since Meagan didn’t have relationships…she had sequential sex partners. Meagan changed boyfriends almost as often as most people changed underwear. She was a serial flirt, never staying with the same guy more than a couple of weeks, two months tops. And then only if he had a gigantic, stallion-sized cock. Sylvie couldn’t count the number of times she’d woken up to find half-naked guys wandering around the apartment she’d shared with Meagan. The girl was a nymphomaniac! She never met a dick she didn’t like or didn’t want to do. When Sylvie complained about the men, Meagan would make fun of her, saying she was a puritanical prude and accusing her of being an asexual freak. Even though they’d lived together almost three years, they weren’t particularly close and hadn’t hung out together very much. Meagan had an active social life and was out almost every night, while Sylvie sat home or worked menial jobs to pay the rent. They had a history together. Some of it not so good. Like when Meagan asked Sylvie to move out so her best friend from college could move in. But that was all water under the bridge, Sylvie told herself. They were family and it was nice to see Meagan again. But that didn’t mean she was going to take her advice or appreciated her interference.
Over the course of several hours, they peppered her with endless questions about Connor and his lifestyle.
They wanted to know all about his parents, extended family, childhood upbringing, and nationality. She told them his parents had died in a tragic fire when he was 17 and that he had an aunt. Beyond that, she couldn’t tell them anything, because she didn’t know. He hadn’t confided any of the details of his life to her.
What about his education? Was he smart in school? Popular? A jock or a nerd? Was he in a fraternity? Where’d he go on spring break? She had no idea. He never told her.
Did he ever talk about his other homes? Sara had found pictures of them online. According to her, they were beautiful…especially the villas in the South of France, the Caribbean island of St. Lucia, and on the private island he owned off the coast of Fiji in the Pacific. Sylvie was shocked. He owned an island in the Pacific? And homes in France and St. Lucia? He’d never said a word to her about them.
Had she ever seen pictures of his yacht? He had a yacht? That was news. He’d never mentioned it. How many private planes did he own? She didn’t have a clue.
What about his finances? They wanted to know how many companies he owned and the total amount of his wealth— give or take a few million. Didn’t know. Couldn’t say.
Well she had to know about his old girlfriends—there were pictures of him with women all over the web: starlets and movie stars, models and heiresses. Surely Sylvie had seen them. They looked at her in utter disbelief when she told them she hadn’t. Had he ever had a long term relationship or been engaged? Sylvie hesitated before answering. If they were searching the web for information on him, they were bound to come across Marisol’s name. She decided to tell them the truth…as far as it went. He’d once been engaged to a girl named Marisol and she’d died. That was all she knew about his prior love life. That was her story and she was sticking to it!
They’d stared at her in disbelief as she shrugged and sidestepped their questions about Connor. Sylvie was either irritatingly closemouthed or she was telling the truth and really didn’t know that much about him. How could that be? Didn’t they talk? Didn’t he confide in her? Sara told her point blank —she thought Sylvie was being foolish, pining over a man she knew so little about. Yes, Connor was a hunk and one of the wealthiest men on the planet; but just because he was rich and good-looking didn’t mean he was a good person. Sylvie needed to learn more about his background and character before she could say with any certainty that she loved him.
The only one who hadn’t said much all evening was Kelly. That surprised Sylvie since Kels was nearly as protective of her as Sara was. She’d been going with Matt when Sylvie was still in junior high school. They’d married a short time before Sylvie’s mom passed away. Sara had been too overcome with grief to step into the role of surrogate mother, so Kelly took on the job. They looked like Mutt and Jeff when they were together. Kelly was tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and beautiful in a plus-size model sort of way. She was curvy, voluptuous. Quite the contrast to short, skinny, flat-chested Sylvie. Kelly had stared at her all night. It was unnerving. The only time she’d reacted to the conversation was when Sylvie mentioned Marisol. She’d looked frightened, genuinely upset. But Sylvie didn’t find out what was wrong until 3 AM after everyone else had fallen asleep…the result of being wasted after having downed 10 bottles of wine. That’s when Kelly pulled Sylvie into the kitchen and hit her with both barrels.
Kelly knew everything: about the murders, the investigation, and Connor being a person of interest. Her brother Matt had been given a heads-up about the situation by Sean McCoy, the BCI trooper assigned to the case. Sylvie was fit to be tied. How dare he involve her family in this? Thank God Matt hadn’t relayed the information to the rest of the family. He’d been miffed at Sylvie for not calling and telling him what was going on. What did he expect her to say? ‘Guess what Matt? Connor, the guy I’m sleeping with, the one I brought to a family wedding; well it turns out he might be a psychotic serial killer who murders his girlfriends for shits and giggles.’ Yeah, that would have gone over really well! Matt was a wonderful man; but as brothers went, he was about as overprotective as they come. He hadn’t contacted her because he’d been told about the case in confidence, one state trooper to another. Worried, he’d shared the news with Kelly, and asked her to have a heart-to-heart with Sylvie. Kelly said Trooper McCoy had assured Matt the building Sylvie lived in was an armed fortress with round-the-clock security; that she’d be safe and well-protected there. Matt was not convinced. He was hoping she’d come home.
The one thing McCoy said that was promising was that the cops had done everything in their power to break Connor’s alibis, but couldn’t. Unless he had a twin or a double somewhere, and they weren’t ruling that possibility out just yet, there was no way he could have physically committed the murders himself. Though that was not to say he hadn’t hired someone else to commit the murders and do the dirty work for him. But the more they delved into the matter, the less likely that seemed. That was the good news. Connor was in the clear…sort of. Though they still alleged he was the link that connected all the murders. The bad news was they hadn’t one iota of evidence: not a hair, or a fingerprint, or a DNA sample to help them identify the killer. They were no closer to a break in the case than they were five weeks ago.
Kelly had been near tears throughout the conversation. She was worried sick about her sister-in-law. Before they’d gone to sleep Sylvie assured Kels she was fine. That she was in no danger. But when the words exited her mouth, she’d had an overwhelming urge to cross her fingers.
They’d awakened after a couple of hours sleep to the smell of fresh brewed coffee, sausage, eggs, and French toast cooking courtesy of Mrs. Kline, the weekend cook/housekeeper. The place was a mess: pizza boxes, empty wine bottles, dirty glasses, bags of chips, and clothes were strewn all over the place. The women staggered to the table: sleepy-eyed, hair disheveled, make-up smudged, their clothes rumpled. Sylvie was amazed that nobody was sick or even hungover! Breakfast was pleasant, the conversation centering on all the fun they’d had at the village’s Appleumpkin Festival last weekend and their plans for the upcoming holidays. It made Sylvie homesick. What the hell was she doing here?
After sampling the bidets, fancy showers, and spa tubs, they were cleaned up, refreshed, and ready to leave for Penn Station and the train home. Mrs. Kline made sandwiches and snacks to take with them and had arranged for a car, a limo actually, to take them downtown.
Before they left, Leona pulled her aside and gave her a piece of paper with the phone number of a lawyer in West Shokan. After weeks of trying, her father had finally connected with Tizzy’s lawyer only to learn that there had been changes made to her will by another attorney. Sylvie was to inherit the property, car, cottage and all its contents, outright. Financial bequests had been made to her father and Uncle Bud, with smaller bequests given to her sister, four brothers, and three cousins. It appeared from what they’d been told that there were several bank accounts which Tizzy had designated in trust for Sylvie. Leona told her she really needed to get in touch with the lawyer as soon as possible to get everything put in her name and figure out what needed to be done to have the utilities switched over to her and get the cottage ready for winter.
Sylvie brushed a tear away. The women in her family were all interfering busybodies, capable of annoying the piss out of her sometimes, but she couldn’t help it…she loved them like crazy! Thanks ladies! Safe journey home.
