“Of course—doesn’t everyone? We can watch the movies there, if that’s why you’re asking,” she snapped, still ensconced on the couch.
He nodded, apparently taking it for granted. “There’s an all-night electronics store over by Evanston. We’ll put in an appearance at your mother’s and get the tapes from Caleb, then go and pick up another VCR and television and end up back at your sister’s. We’re going to need two machines if we want to compare prints.”
“We’re going to be up all night!”
“You don’t have to be involved in this, Maggie,” he offered politely. “You can go on to your mother’s, and I’ll take care of everything.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Then don’t complain.” He leaned over, and for a moment Maggie thought he was reaching for her. She jerked away, startled, but he was going for the flowers. He picked up the vase and dropped it in the wastebasket by the door. “Let’s go.”
She rose, tugging at the too-short skirt. “Did you know that Vasili was shot helping me escape?” She hadn’t even known she was going to say it—it just popped out.
Randall switched off the light, plunging them both into semidarkness. Maggie felt her usual, instinctive tightening of panic. Then the streetlight filtered through, and she could see his face, could just barely make out the bleak expression. “I knew,” he said, his hand on the doorknob, making no effort to open it.
“I consider you responsible,” she said, with cruelty that was foreign to her.
He didn’t flinch. “So do I,” he said. And opening the door, he moved into the hallway without a backward glance.
In Maggie’s memory, there were evenings that had seemed longer, but very few. Sybil had surrounded herself with the cream of Stoneham Studios’ management; Alicia’s grating laugh echoed through Sybil’s suite at the Mandrake. When Caleb wasn’t looming over a harassed-looking Kate, he was standing dourly in a corner, disapproving of all and sundry. Sturdy, sensible Kate looked ready to fly apart in a thousand directions. Randall moved by her side like the Gray Eminence, the skeleton at the feast.
It had been easy enough for Maggie to abandon him. All the women flocked around him like chattering magpies, and Maggie had slipped away with a wry grin. He hadn’t lost his touch over the years. If only there were some way she could figure out what drew women to him, maybe she’d be immune.
Damn it, what was she thinking of? She was immune, and had been for six years. Or at least since she had met Mack. But Mack was gone, no longer able to protect her, and she felt herself slipping back into the insidious current, and the more she struggled, the more useless it all seemed.
“Are you all right?” Kate’s voice startled her, and Maggie looked up. They were relatively alone in a corner of the vast living room, a small oasis of quiet amidst the revelers.
“I’m
fine. I’m more worried about you.”
“You needn’t be. I’m surviving,” she said in clipped tones, pushing a wing of her chestnut hair back from her pale face. “Brian’s asked for a postponement on the custody hearing. We won’t go back to court for another two weeks.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Depends. If we could have gotten a ruling in my favor with no complications, I would have felt like a new woman. Two more weeks gives us enough time to have this whole situation blow up in our faces.”
“Can’t you fight the postponement?”
“My lawyer says I can try. I’m just afraid I’d fall apart in court. I figure I’ll have to take my chances that you’ll be able to clear everything up.” She smiled up at her sister, a trusting smile that quivered around the edges. “I’m counting on you, Maggie.”
Damn, Maggie thought desperately. She wasn’t Sybil’s daughter for nothing; she had a tiny amount of acting ability, too, and she called on every ounce of it. “Don’t worry, Katy,” she said, her voice cool and determined. “Have I ever let you down before?”
“No,” Kate said, eager to be reassured.
There’s a first time for everything, Maggie thought. “Well, I won’t this time, either. Trust me.”
“Sure.” Kate’s voice was abstracted, her attention lost, and Maggie followed her troubled gaze. Caleb McAllister was bearing down on them, an intent expression in his blue eyes, and Maggie could have been in Timbuktoo for all the attention either of them now paid her. “I think,” Kate continued, standing her ground and speaking more to herself than her sister, “that I will get drunk. Queenie’s already put Chrissie down in the guest bedroom, and I may just pass out on Mother’s sofa.” She moved away without another glance in Maggie’s direction, pushing past Caleb’s advancing figure. She didn’t get very far.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Caleb demanded, catching her arm.
“To get drunk,” Kate said defiantly.
“What do you think that will solve?”
“Nothing,” she snapped back.
Maggie stood off to one side, watching, completely ignored by the two combatants. She knew she should withdraw, but for the moment she was too fascinated by a side of her sister she’d never seen.