Sylvie stared at her reflection in the mirror. Something was up. Connor was acting suspicious. Yesterday morning he’d surprised her with a spa day. Since he wouldn’t allow her out of the house, he brought the spa to her.
Connor arranged to have several portable PVC tubs put in the sunroom so she could enjoy watching the ocean during her treatments and a couple of electric heaters which kept the room’s temperature sauna-like. He wanted to make sure she wouldn’t catch a chill. One of the spa tubs was filled with warm mud. Another held herbal-scented water which bubbled and churned. There were also two blow up bath tubs, resembling kiddie pools, to rinse off in, and two heated tables.
After soaking nearly two hours in squishy, brownish-black mud, they finally rinsed her off. Repeatedly dousing her with pitchers of warm water. Laying her on one of the tables, they began waxing various parts of her anatomy: her thighs, crotch, upper lip, brows, and even the short stubble that had already started poking out of her legs and underarms after Connor’s shave. Ouch! Having rendered her body hairless, the estheticians wrapped her in warm, wet towels that smelled alternately of coconut, lavender, and peppermint. They covered them with heating pads. When Sylvie felt limp as a noodle, they removed the towels and started scrubbing her body with ginger and lime scented salt. By the time they finished, her skin was pink and glowing.
They rinsed Sylvie again, this time with tepid water, then took a break to feed her what they told her was a super healthy, ‘cleansing and detoxifying,’ vitamin and mineral-enriched, organic fruit and veggie smoothie with assorted herbs, seeds, nuts, and spices. The drink, which was heavy on turmeric and cayenne, tasted like crap and made her gag; but they encouraged her to drink it down, saying it would remove all the ‘noxious chemicals and contaminants’ lurking inside her. They assured her the horrible tasting concoction would help purify her blood and cleanse her body. They waited until she’d finished drinking every drop before revealing it had ‘laxative properties.’ It would more than likely give her a severe case of diarrhea. Oh Joy! She was really looking forward to shitting her brains out. Not!
An hour-long facial followed. A tag team of estheticians scrubbed, massaged and went over her skin with a magnifying glass to remove any ‘impurities.’ They slathered on lotions and astringents to tighten her pores, even her skin tone, and make her complexion radiant. After wrapping her face in a warm towel saturated with vitamin-infused water, and then ever so carefully patting it dry, they congratulated themselves on a job well done and officially pronounced Sylvie ‘lovely.’
Next came the massage therapists who for two hours oiled, kneaded, rubbed, and pounded her muscles into submission. When they finished, Sylvie went into the churning herbal water. This allowed her muscles to unknot and eased any remaining tension.
She was given glass after glass of water so her body could flush away the toxins released by the massage and other treatments. Really? She thought that was what the green sludge they made her drink was supposed to do!
When her skin began to look pruney and her bladder was full to bursting, they helped her from the tub, wrapped her in a big, fluffy, white bathrobe, and called for a nurse to help her to the bathroom. Sylvie couldn’t wait, she was on the verge of peeing herself. To the shock of everyone in the room, Sylvie, limping only slightly, sprinted to the bathroom under her own power. Of course the nurse, Liv, a notorious brown-noser and tattletale, ratted her out to Connor. Who immediately came running to give her a lecture. Lucky her! Telling her she was putting her recovery in jeopardy by trying to do too much. That she was being foolhardy and irresponsible… Yadda, yadda, yadda! Sylvie tuned him out. She was feeling better and doing fine. She wasn’t going to let the ‘Profit of Doom’ keep her in a protective bubble the rest of her life just because he was afraid for her. She wasn’t the one impeding her recovery. He was!
When she returned to the sunroom, all the old equipment had been removed and new items brought in. There was an easy chair where she could sit and relax while her feet soaked in steamy, roiling water. The technician gave her a foot massage and then a pedicure. It was amazing! All the cracks and calluses were gone. Her heels felt as soft as a baby’s butt. Her toenails were shaped and filed to perfection. And…the woman had even removed the hairs sprouting on her big toe. Sylvie was surprised she didn’t ask what color nail polish she wanted and instead had just buffed her toenails to a soft sheen. Sylvie figured they’d apply polish after they opened the bottle to do her fingernails. She had her heart set on pink…bubble gum pink!
She’d been a little leery of putting her hands in the hot wax bath. But once she stuck them in, she found the stiffness in her fingers almost immediately disappeared. She was shocked to discover she could bend them enough to make a fist. Sylvie decided to buy herself one. After that they started working on her fingernails. Once again, they just buffed them instead of painting them. When Sylvie objected, they told her they’d been instructed not to. They could put clear polish on if she wanted, but nothing opaque that would hide the actual color of the nail beneath. The doctors had relayed the message that at least for the time being, her nails would have to remain polish free. Bummer! No bubble gum pink! When she questioned one of the nurses about it later, the woman informed her that physicians can determine a patient’s condition by the color of their fingernails, especially lung and breathing problems. That’s why the doctors nixed the polish.
After the nail technicians had finished their work, two other chairs were brought in and a male hairstylist with a spikey, maroon Mohawk and wearing a dog collar took over. He gave Sylvie a hot oil treatment and a scalp massage. Then attached a plastic basin to the back of the reclining chair and shampooed her hair, using pitchers of warm water brought to him by his obsequious female assistant. She was running back and forth between the bathroom and sunroom replenishing the pitchers. He rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue, chastising her slowness and demanding to know how he was supposed to ‘express his genius,’ ‘create magic,’ when his peon assistant continually stymied him. After studying Sylvie’s face and bone structure, the texture of her hair and the condition of her scalp and ends, he went to work. He trimmed the split ends and blow-dried it. It looked nice, but it was pretty much the way she always wore it, only with more bounce and shine. That was it? Genius? Magic? Not so much!
Sylvie had never had a spa day before, but found that except for the ghastly-tasting smoothie, endless glasses of water, and maybe the bikini wax, she’d enjoyed the experience. What’s not to like? Everyone pampering and catering to you. She had no idea how much something like that cost, but knew Connor must have spent a bundle to have them set up a salon in the house. She didn’t imagine they normally made house calls. You had to be obscenely rich to get that kind of at-home service! Sylvie thanked Connor profusely and told him how much she’d loved it. She left out the part about the disgusting smoothie and the diarrhea to follow. That seemed to please him no end. He was actually beaming. Connor beaming? That was a first! Who’d have believed it!
She found the dour Mr. Hudson was suddenly full of surprises. After the spa people left, he’d carried her back to her room—not that she needed any assistance, she was quite capable of walking on her own—and put her to bed. Sylvie had missed her afternoon nap and he was worried that she was overtired. She wasn’t, but that didn’t sway him. She was going to bed no matter what she said. Despite all her protests, the minute her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep.
He’d awakened her at six, dressed her in a pretty blue silk nightie with a matching robe and carried her back to the sunroom which had been transformed yet again. This time a small table covered in white linen, fine china, silver cutlery, and crystal glassware sat beside the window. Sylvie had been eating off bed trays so long, she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to sit down at a table. Outside the yard and beach beyond were lit by huge floodlights that cut through the darkness. You could see the waves crashing on the shore as fluffy white flakes of snow floated down. It was beautiful! If it hadn’t been for the men patrolling the grounds with automatic weapons, it would have been perfect. The small palm and schefflera trees in the room had been decorated with white lights and the table was lit with candles. It was so romantic! Romantic? Connor didn’t do romance! This was the first time they’d had dinner together since she left Saranac. Their first fancy candlelit dinner since they were together in Ottawa. She wondered what he was up to.
Dinner was lovely. The talked and laughed and then after dessert when she wanted nothing more than to be ravished by this tall, handsome, hunk of a man…he dumped her into bed, turned off the light, and went back to working on his book. Boy! Talk about building someone’s hopes up and then not delivering!
This morning they’d had breakfast together in the sunroom. Estelle made eggs benedict, Sylvie’s absolute favorite, with a side of hash browns and extra English muffins to soak up the yolk. And now this.
The outfit was cute. A long red and green plaid taffeta skirt topped with a black sweater twin set: a short-sleeved mock turtleneck and a long-sleeved cardigan. It was so soft she had to check the label. It was cashmere. She couldn’t figure out what was going on. They’d just finished breakfast. It was too early for lunch. So why was she getting dressed? She wasn’t complaining though. She hadn’t worn anything but a nightgown in two months. The outfit was a little formal for hanging out around the house or going to a doctor’s office. Wait. It was Saturday. She doubted very much that there were doctors who had office hours on the weekend. He’d told her about the Montauk Point lighthouse. He said it was not far away and that as soon as she was better he’d take her for a ride to see it. Maybe that’s why she was getting dressed up.
She waved the nurses away and told them to shut the door on their way out when they tried to help her. She’d had enough of people seeing her naked. Not Connor of course. She still wanted him to see her naked. But not all the other people, who were now so well acquainted with every nook and cranny of her anatomy. Sylvie did her best, but she had to call them back in when she was unable to get her bra hooked, zip the skirt up, or get the button on the waistband buttoned.
She was all dressed and brushing her hair when a woman she didn’t know was ushered into the room. After introducing herself as Michelle, she proceeded to braid Sylvie’s hair. What startled Sylvie was the way she was braiding it. Exactly the way Sylvie had worn it at the last party she’d attended in New York City. The one where Connor had ignored her. Sylvie asked why she’d chosen this particular style and Michelle told her she hadn’t, that the gentleman had requested it. He’d been very specific and had even given her a picture of precisely what he wanted. Without hesitation, she pulled a photo from her pocket. It was a picture of Sylvie at the party in her long, peach-colored gown with matching flowers and ribbons tucked in her hair. He’d taken a picture of her that night?
When her hair was braided and wrapped around the knot at the back of her head and the tendrils fetchingly arranged just so, Michelle finished by sticking a sprig of holly in her creation. Sylvie tilted her head and looked at her quizzically. Christmas had been a month ago. Were people still allowed to wear holly now?
Michelle retrieved a small makeup bag from the dresser. Sylvie had never seen it before. She recognized the brands as the woman pulled the items out one by one. They were all expensive. Michelle dabbed a flesh-toned, whipped cream-like foundation over the discolorations under her eyes, on her jaw, and on her temple. Then dusted them with an opalescent powder. Sylvie was astonished! The bruises completely disappeared! Michelle carefully drew a thin black line on Sylvie’s upper and lower lids, then stroked on two coats of mascara. After brushing on a berry blush to accentuate her cheekbones, she finished up by applying a sheer pink lip gloss which made Sylvie’s lips appear plump and shiny.
As Michelle was leaving, Connor came in. He was dressed in black slacks and a red sweater with a white, open-collared shirt underneath. He sort of matched her. Was that planned?
‘God you look beautiful. That hairstyle flatters you.’
‘Michelle said you chose it. She showed me a picture someone took of me at the party. Was it you?’ she wanted to know.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You looked so beautiful that night. In that pink dress with your hair all done up…’
‘Peach. It was peach. I didn’t think you even noticed me, let alone what I was wearing. You made it a point to avoid me all night.’
‘How could I not notice? You were absolutely stunning!’
‘But you ignored me. I don’t understand?’
‘We long ago established the fact that I’m a prick of gargantuan proportions. But believe me, I am truly sorry for the way I treated you that night. I behaved like a complete asshole. I know I hurt you. You’ve every reason to be angry and distrust me. But I hope you’ll give me a second chance. Give our relationship a second chance.
Relationship? He still wanted to be in a relationship with her? Obviously she hadn’t gotten the memo yet. But hell yes! Count her in!
‘Will you forgive me?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’ A single word never held so much meaning. They were…drum roll please…a couple again! Sylvie had to restrain herself from jumping his bones and smothering him with kisses. She didn’t want to appear too eager. She loved Connor, but the one thing she’d learned from their time together was that Connor was fickle. He couldn’t seem to get a handle on how he really felt about her. One day he wanted to be with her. The next day he didn’t. She didn’t want to get her hopes up only to have them dashed again.
Connor smiled at her, his eyes glinting. ‘Good! Now my girl, I have something special planned for you. A big surprise.’
‘What?’ she asked excitedly. ‘Are we driving to see the lighthouse at Montauk Point?’
‘No. Afraid not.’
‘What then? What’s the surprise?’
‘It would hardly be a surprise if I told you now would it?’ He lifted her up in his arms and started off.
‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
They walked through a maze of halls, passing rooms each more beautifully decorated than the last. In the distance she could hear Christmas music and the distinct sound of children laughing. She looked at him in shock.
‘Merry Christmas Sylvie!’ he said, kissing her.
They entered a gigantic living room decorated for the holidays with evergreen wreaths and garland, poinsettias and holly, and mistletoe hanging from the chandelier. The fireplace mantle was festooned with fragrant pine boughs and all kinds of stockings, while a blazing fire burned in the grate. Nearby stood an enormous Christmas tree, around which were piled what appeared to be over a hundred gaily-wrapped presents. And standing there applauding her entrance were Lettie and Warren and every single member of her family, including all her nieces and nephews, her Uncle Bud and Aunt Janet, her cousins Mia, Eric and Meagan. And Meagan’s new husband Brandon.
Sylvie was overjoyed! She was laughing and crying at the same time. Connor tried to make his way through a mob of screaming children all grabbing at Sylvie, asking if her boo-boos were better, and clamoring for him to put her down. Connor had no sooner deposited her in an overstuffed easy chair when her family descended on her, pushing him out of the way. They hugged and kissed, stroked and patted her; half of them were crying tears of joy. She hadn’t seen any of them in weeks, not since she was transferred to the hospital in Long Island. They were supposed to surprise her and celebrate the holiday on the 27th of December, after she had a couple of days to settle in here; but by then she was too sick and the doctors said it was best if they postponed it. Connor visibly winced when Sara’s 5-year-old Zoey and 2-year-old Aubrey Rose and Mark and Rebecca’s Ryder, 4, and Colin, 2 jumped in her lap and started smothering her with kisses while Sylvie giggled. As if four weren’t bad enough, they were soon joined by the rest of the toddler and kindergarten set, until Sylvie was buried under a pile of squirming little ones.
Connor wanted the day to be perfect for her and it was. There were presents for everyone. Estelle had outdone herself! He had no idea what he would have done without her. The gifts were mostly toys, books, and clothing for the children that were merchandising tie-ins to his books and movies. The most coveted were the Fiona the Fumbling Fairy Princess dolls with twinkling tutus and battery operated flapping wings for the little girls and the Rings of Annara dragon base stations complete with action figures and motorized vehicles for the boys. They’d been the most popular Christmas toys this year and stores had sold out of them around Thanksgiving. He had it on good authority that though they’d been on the kids’ Christmas wish lists this year, due to the shortage, their parents hadn’t been able to purchase them anywhere. Both the kids and their folks were delighted with the gifts. There was perfume and jewelry for the ladies. Cologne and watches for the men. Though all the gift cards said they were from Santa, everyone thanked Connor.
Sylvie got a pair of plain, gold, hoop earrings and a bottle of Opium eau de toilette. She got misty-eyed when she unwrapped the fragrance. Aunt Tizzy used to buy her a bottle every Christmas. This was the first Christmas without her great aunt and Sylvie felt the loss. Connor didn’t buy Sylvie any fancy jewelry or super-expensive perfume. He liked the way she smelled and the way she looked just fine. She didn’t need adornment. She was beautiful the way she was. She’d been begging for her laptop and was disappointed to learn it was lost in the fire at Tiz’s, as was her ereader. She couldn’t get her phone back either. The police had it. They were hoping to get some clues from it. So he’d gotten her a new laptop, tablet, iPhone, and an ebook reader. Sylvie was delighted.
Estelle had baked gingerbread cookies decorated with everyone’s name and hung them on the tree. She’d also made several different kinds of iced Christmas cookies which were heaped on platters around the room. Her handiwork included a gumdrop-decorated gingerbread house and another house that looked like a log cabin made of pretzels and icing. Estelle had thought of everything; even setting up a toy nativity set with unbreakable plastic figures for the children to play with and a lighted Victorian Christmas village. The whole place looked wonderful, filled to the brim with joy and Christmas cheer.
Connor kept watch over Sylvie as she interacted with her family and took in all the decorations. She was glowing! He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so happy. Every once in a while her eyes would meet his and she’d smile and mouth the words ‘Thank you.’
For some crazy reason Luke’s little one, Bailey Renee, took an instant liking to Connor and kept climbing on his lap and smearing cookie frosting on his $700 cashmere sweater. Colin and Aubrey Rose decided that if Bailey liked him, Connor must be okay. They came over with their sippy cups of egg nog which they promptly proceeded to drip all over his $400 Armani slacks. Lettie handed him a napkin to wipe away the worst of the mess, and smiled at him smugly. She told him he looked good with a kid on his lap and that he might think about getting to work on making her a great aunt already because she wasn’t getting any younger!
Aunt Lettie was enjoying the holiday. It had just been her and her brother, Byron, growing up. Holidays had always been wonderful when she was a kid. But they were small, quiet affairs. Nothing like this. Lettie didn’t have any children and although she’d often shared Christmases with Connor and his parents, she’d never been part of a big, chaotic, raucous holiday celebration like this one. The kids, the gifts, the wall to wall relatives, sharing a holiday feast with those near and dear to her…she loved it. Lettie repeatedly told Connor what a lovely family Sylvie had…and what a sweetheart Sylvie must be to put up with a moody, ill-tempered workaholic like him. Twice during the day she’d jabbed an elbow into his ribs and told him firmly ‘You ought to marry that girl!’
Connor was appalled! Lettie never interfered in his life! Especially not his love life! And he didn’t want her to start now! The old girl was a force to be reckoned with. He could see her becoming a thorn in his side about this. She seemed very taken with Sylvie and the whole Jenkins clan. Lettie had always been a hopeless romantic. That’s the way she lived her life. She believed in love and happily ever after endings. He hoped she wasn’t trying to project that onto him now. He was a grown man. He didn’t need his elderly aunt weighing in on his love life. Meddling in his business; putting her nose where it didn’t belong. Of course it was hard to tell her to butt out of his life when he was constantly interfering in hers. Lettie was strong-willed and not easily deterred once she set her mind to something.. He could only hope she’d let the matter drop. Marriage? Children? Connor shuddered.
The dinner had been delicious. The cooks had made two turkeys. One with a traditional herbed stuffing, and the other with an Italian sausage stuffing that contained cubed bread, wild rice, spinach and mushrooms that was delicious. There were candied sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, Brussels sprouts, green beans, fresh cranberry sauce, gravy and biscuits. They were just digging into the mincemeat and pumpkin pies, and the Buche de Noel chocolate yule cake when Brady and Solowicz interrupted and asked to speak to him. They appeared upset. Something was wrong.
A half-hour later Connor returned, looking distressed.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lucas asked in alarm. ‘You looked worried. Did something happen?’
Connor took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Apparently someone followed you from the airport here. The vans and SUVs are rigged with rear-view cameras. They picked up the same car twice. And it’s driven by the gates three times since you’ve been here.’
‘The killer?’ Lucas’ face was lined with worry.
‘But how’s that possible?’ Mark asked. ‘How could he know we’d be coming here today?’
‘It wouldn’t have been difficult to find out Sylvie’s background,’ Warren interjected. ‘There are reams of personal information about every one of us on the internet. Once he identified her hometown, it would be easy enough to locate her relatives. Someone was hired to keep tabs on a close member of her family, most likely her father…you Lucas. My guess is he had your place staked out and tailed you everywhere you went. You just weren’t aware of it. And today he followed you to the airport in Rochester,’ Warren told him. ‘The pilot would have had to file a flight plan for the trip. It wouldn’t be a problem for the person in Rochester to alert whoever hired him, let him know where you were going. He’d have an hour and 15 minute window, maybe longer, to have someone here, waiting for you.’
‘The killer’s not working alone then?’ Ben asked.
‘There are plenty of penny-ante detectives out there looking for work. They’re not particular about who their employer is. And who knows what he was told when he was offered the job. It’s pretty simple to have someone tailed. Cut and dried really. All he had to do was follow you. It’s a sleazy way to make a living, but it’s not immoral or unethical. He probably didn’t care why he was following you. He was just trying to pick up a paycheck.’
‘Do you think the killer was here today?’ Lucas asked Brady.
Brady shrugged. ‘I don’t know. The guy was driving a wreck of a car. With the license plate splattered with mud. We got a fairly good look at his head and winter jacket. He needed a haircut and a shave and his coat was filthy and torn. Didn’t seem like he had the kind of money you’d need to fly around the country murdering women.’
‘What?’ Aghast, Sylvie jumped to her feet. ‘What do you mean flying around the country murdering women?’ All the murders were in New York.’ She stared at Connor, who was suddenly incapable of looking her in the eye. ‘Weren’t they?’ she demanded.
Connor shook his head.
‘Oh my God!’ All the color drained from her face. In its place were horror and disbelief. ‘Where? How many others?’
‘I think that might be a conversation for another time,’ Warren told her gently. Clearly Connor hadn’t told her the authorities had evidence of more murders. She’d been so ill, maybe he hadn’t wanted to burden her further. But now it’s best that she know. Know what she’s dealing with. What she’s up against. ‘Right now you need to make plans. I doubt that the person lurking around the place today was the killer. More likely he’s just another P.I. hired to find you. But once he relays your whereabouts back to his boss, you’ll be in danger.’
‘We’ll need to get her out of here,’ Connor said grimly.
‘Leave it to me. I’ll make some inquiries,’ Warren told him. He looked over at Lettie and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘All will be well Cara Mia. Don’t worry.’ He retrieved the phone from his pocket and left the room.
Less than an hour later, everyone was gone. Connor had hurried them out of the house. If the shit was going to hit the fan tonight, the last thing he wanted was to have little children wandering around. It was best to empty the house as quickly as possible. He’d sent home the two nurses on duty and all the non-live-in staff. The nightshift nurses were called and told to take the night off with pay. He’d wanted to summon one of the corporate Lear jets to take Estelle back to Saranac, but she refused. She insisted she was staying put…with him…with Sylvie. He admired her loyalty. But he was worried. The bastard liked to play with fire. There was no telling what he’d do if given the chance. The fewer people he had to be concerned about, the better it was. That way he could focus all his attention on keeping Sylvie safe. The only way the killer would get anywhere near her again was over his dead body!
The guards that accompanied her family back to the airport were all armed. If someone tried to stop them, they were prepared to shoot. They’d decided to call in many of the armed security teams that stood watch over his Manhattan properties, restaurants, clubs, and hotels. In three hours the place would be crawling with guards, all carrying automatic weapons. And everyone would be told that anyone who breached the property tonight should be shot on sight. Local police had been apprised of what was going on as was the task force currently investigating the murders. They were sending help.
Sylvie looked pale and frightened, but refused to let Connor carry her back to bed. She walked. When she questioned him about the other murders, he promised to tell her everything…after she got some rest. He looked so worried and upset, she decided not to press him on it now. She’d heard him issuing orders. He had a lot on his mind. She didn’t need to add to it.
He held onto her shoulder and steered her down the maze of hallways until they came to her room. She stopped outside the door and looked up at him. ‘Thank you for Christmas. It was absolutely wonderful and I’m so grateful to you for everything. For all you did for me and my family. Flying them down here. The beautiful tree and decorations. All the presents. The Christmas dinner. How can I ever thank you?’
He took her in his arms and whispered in her ear. ‘You don’t need to thank me. I’d give you the world if I could Sylvie.’ Holding her, he had a stunning realization and it scared the hell out of him. He meant every word of it. He did want to give her the world. There was a knot in his chest. It felt so right…having this little bit of a thing cuddled in his arms. He didn’t want her to ever leave him. Wanted her to stay with him forever. Forever? What exactly would that entail? Marriage? Shit…now he was worried! Where was he going with this? Isn’t this the way you were supposed to feel when you were in love? Love? Him? Never! His heart began to pound. This was neither the time nor the place to think of such things. Not with a maniac lying in wait in the darkness. He forced himself to focus on the current situation. ‘But for now little girl, it’s off to bed with you. You’ve had an exhausting day.’
