Chapter 17
Once again, reality reared its head and the moment was lost. Still smiling at the unexpected and moving words the Sheriff said, the writer felt the need to bring up the mundane, rather than blurt out her thoughts.
"So, why are we here?"
"We're here to see Rita McKinney." She answered, as she shifted her gaze to watch for the girl.
""And she is…?"
"Oh yeah. Sorry. She's the girl Steph has take care of her house when she's gone. Rita's one of the few people with the code for the alarm, and I'm not sure she told me the whole truth when I asked her if she'd given the code to anyone else. " The skin around her eyes crinkled into small hard lines and before her eyes, Emily saw the lawyer emerge. She remembered being young herself and thought that if she was pushed into an interrogation by this women, she'd have just shut up. At that age, I was as stubborn as an ink stain on white silk, and if I thought I was being pushed they would have needed a laxative to get me to move. Then she had another thought.
"Harley, why don't you let me handle her?" She could see the woman begin to form an immediate objection to the idea, and rushed to supply her reasoning behind the request.
"Wait a minute, before you say no, just hear me out, okay?"
Feeling as though she had nothing to lose and knowing she held the reigns of decision, Harley acquiesced. "Okay, shoot."
"First, she doesn't know me and has no preconceived notion of what I want from her. I can approach this from the house guest-who-needs-some help from the resident expert on Steph's place and you can't. Next, I get people to tell me stuff they don't know they're telling me all the time. Third, I remember vividly what it felt like to be a teenager and I can relate to her." She smiled a bit at Harley's look of indignation and quickly followed with, "I'm not saying you're an old woman Harley, just that you have a fairly overwhelming presence." Noting the look of surprise on the woman's face she added, "Oh don't tell me you've never been told that before, and that has a tendency to… put people on the defensive. Finally, I'll be coming at her from a blind corner. She won't know to be on the defensive with me, because she'll think I'm after something else altogether." She paused and assessed the officer. Feeling the need to add one more argument, she said. "Come on, Harley, what can it hurt? If I don't get what you need, you can always talk to her later. I'll even hold the spotlight on her while you use the rubber hose." She grinned and hoped a little charm would sway the woman.
It did. "Okay, writer, you're on. She's coming out of that room over there in a few minutes. She stays after on Thursday as an aid to the teacher. If you want to play it like you said, you'd best get out of this car and find a way to make your pitch." She started the car as the blonde, removed her seat belt and tried to open the door with her left arm. Harley leaned her long body over her and pulled the handle for her. "You're on your own, then. This," she pointed at the street they pulled off of to enter the lot of the school, "is Prospector. Just follow it back down the road to Bender and turn left. That's where the Bulletin's office is. I'll be inside waiting for you. I need to speak to JD anyway." Without another word, she took off and left the writer in the school parking lot, trying to decide on the right approach.
Then, realizing she had no idea what this girl even looked like, she stepped forward.
"Well, I better get over there before she's leaves and I don't even know I've missed her."
**********
The look and smell of the classroom brought back distinct memories for the writer and she was pleased to see that one wall was lined with tables of computers. Above the wall was page after page of typed papers with 'A+' boldly displayed in red ink. They seemed to be short stories or articles as each had a title and the closest ones showed quotation marks in many places. Maybe a writer will get a better audience than a houseguest. Let's see.
She saw a gray haired woman standing next to a young girl on a ladder who was stapling a jack-o-lantern banner above the blackboard. At the end where the banner began, she saw a large color picture of three witches stirring a caldron. Feeling around for an opening line, she stepped into the room and quietly cleared her throat.
**********The sheriff's car was parked directly in front of the front door to the small newspaper office. Harley grabbed her hat, went up the two old brick steps and smiled to herself at the smell of the place. Since she was little this was always one of her favorite places in town. She instantly recognized the sound of the old paper press in the back room. JD could have replaced it long ago, but he felt, as she did, that it was a part of the town, and so he just kept maintaining it.
She followed the sound and found her brother wiping his hands and staring intently at the drum as copies of newsprint disgorged from its end.
"So, have you stared it down yet? Personally, if it was me, I'd be cowed into performing by now." The wide-eyed look of innocence was completely wasted on her brother, who knew both sarcasm, and his sister, very well.
Without making eye contact and still staring hard at the machinery in front of him, he said, "Go away, Harley, if you didn't bring me news or food, I don't have to talk to you until Sunday at dinner. Mom said so."
"Well now, if you aren't the grumpiest editor I've ever met. A person comes in to see you and compliments your obvious intimidation skills and all she gets is the brush off. You better be nice or I'll tell Daddy."
He finally deigned to look at her, noticed a tiny tension around her eyes that told him this was more than a social call and acted on it. "Let's step into my office and talk."
**********The woman and girl turned from their decorations and looked her way. Emily was glad beyond measure that this was a creative writing class as it gave her an automatic pass. As they turned and Emily got her first good look at the young girl she was to interrogate, she spotted her 'in' and had a moment's epiphany as it all came together for her. Plan your work and work your plan. This is gonna be easy.
"Hi. My name is Shasta Cutter and I was looking for Rita…" That's as far as she got before the older woman interrupted her.
"Oh, my, Miss. Cutter it is an honor to meet you. I've been such a fan of your work. I have every thing you've written. Please come in and have a seat." The woman hurried over and pulled the large chair from behind her desk to the area in front of the black board.
Like taking candy from a baby. She noticed the slack jawed stare and the nervous fidgeting of the younger girl and realized that, in this instance, her fame was going to do half the job for her.
"Thanks, Uh, Miss.?"
"Oh, my, I am sorry. How rude of me. I'm Mrs. Johansson, English and Creative Writing." The older woman extended her hand as Emily approached the chair. As the author got closer she realized what she was doing and quickly switched hands to offer the woman her left in deference to the cast on the right one. She remembered somewhere in the back of mind, that her mother had told her years ago that offering your left hand was considered rude and she didn't want to offend the woman. Having another second thought she partially dropped her hand and looked at the writer with the flush of embarrassed confusion on her face.
After the introductions, it was easy. Shasta insisted that Mrs. Johansson take the chair and she sat in a front row desk, facing her. She allowed the woman to go on and on about her and her books and discussed plotline and character development with her much longer than she normally would have. She was setting the stage so to speak, and it was working fine. She kept her attention seemingly on the teacher but her real concentration was on the developing look of adulation on the girls face. Rita continued to stand at Mrs. Johansson's side, only moving when her teacher asked her to retrieve two of the author's book from the small bookcase behind the large desk. Shasta obediently signed the copies, adding an appropriately sweet tag and then felt the time was right and her victim primed enough to make her move.
Shasta started to rise and said, "Mrs. Johansen, it was a pleasure to meet you and I can't tell you how much I enjoyed talking with you, but I came here to talk to Rita for a few minutes, if that's okay." She stopped and gave her most winning smile to the teenager who found herself blushing in response.
"Not at all, Miss. Cutter. It was my pleasure, I assure you. Thanks for the autographs and the wonderful conversation and please, if you find yourself free of an afternoon while you're staying here, do drop in again anytime. I would love for my class to have a chance to ask a few questions of such a fine writer."
"Well, if that isn't one of the nicest invitations I've ever had. You can count on it, Mrs. Johansen. I'll be sure to give you a call one day soon and we'll arrange it, alright?"
"Now, if I can borrow your helper for a few minutes…" She turned to Rita and indicated they should step outside.
When they were out the door, Shasta turned to the girl and said, "I hope I didn't take you away from anything important. I promise I'll only keep you a few minutes." Her smile was still there and she could tell it was having an impact on the teenager.
"NO." She cleared her throat and looked down, totally abashed that she had all but shouted her response to the celebrity. "I mean, uhm, no, you… ah,… you weren't interrupting anything." She gave her own brief smile to the author and then continued to walk slowly beside her.
"Thanks so much Rita, May I call you Rita?" The blonde put on her most charming look. The one she knew always got the old ladies and the young people to smile back.
"Oh, yeah. Sure." The small brunette pushed a small lock of hair back over one ear and stammered as she smiled back quickly. Then she ducked her head again to stare at the ground as the lock fell away and once more covered her face from view.
"Thanks. Anyway, I don't know if you know this, but I've been staying at Stephanie Croft's place for a few days." She was fairly sure that no rumors of the incident this morning had made their way to the young girl. The only ones who knew were the Ravensdown's and Connie and Toni. Her attention was now completely focused on the young woman. She was watching everything about her but the young girl had no idea she was being so keenly watched.
"Oh. So you're the guest she told me about. She called and said she was expecting company and to leave the alarm off when I came by to water the plants on Tuesday. I didn't know it was going to be you. She said I should just take a vacation until further notice because she didn't want you disturbed. Is there something you need?"
They stopped next to the bicycle rack at the front of the school. The writer hoped her intuition was right and just decided to follow her plan. "Well, as you can see, I had a little accident the other night." She brought her right arm up and watched the teenager look at her cast, and make the connection. She saw it in her eyes when the light went off.
"Oh my god! You're the one that was attacked at the Nest, huh?"
Before she had a chance to do more than nod, the girl hurried on.
"Gosh, I'm so sorry. That really sucks. Are you all right? Is there anything I can do to help?"
It took her just a moment to get back in the game and recover from once again, being surprised by the willingness of the Bramble citizens to put themselves out for a total stranger. She couldn't, however, keep the grin from her face as she realized it was a characteristic of even the youngest residents. I wonder if it's something in the water.
"Well, yeah. Kinda. That is if you wouldn't mind. I do kind of need some help."
"Well… sure. What can I do?" Rita leaned into a new looking blue bike and waited.
"Well, you see it's like this. Since my, uh, accident, I don't really have two arms anymore. Stephanie called and she's planning on coming up this weekend for a visit and normally, that would be no problem. But right now, I'm using her bedroom and I'd like to move my things into the guest room and change the bed linens before she gets there. I was just uh, hoping that maybe you could give me a little help. I'm not normally this bad a guest but I'm not really" she lifted her sling again, "equipped for housekeeping just now, if you know what I mean."
The girl laughed and said, "I see what you mean."
"I'd be more than willing to pay you for your time. Whatever you think is appropriate, is fine with me."
"No, that's okay. Miss. Croft pays me to do things for her like that every month."
"Uh uh. I insist. Now, how about you meet me at the house a little later and we'll get ourselves started to put things in order. Does that sound all right? Do you have plans for tonight?"
"Nah. Nothing going on tonight. How about we make it, say around six. Would that be okay?"
"Sounds fine with me. I'll see you then, Rita. Thanks."
"Hey, no problem, really. I'm uhm, glad to do it." She smiled shyly and pushed that same strand of dark brown hair behind her ear again.
They waved at each other as Emily started back down the street and Rita began to unlock her bike from the rack. Less than a minute later, they waved again as the teenager passed her by on the way home.
As she watched the girl pass her by, she eyed the backpack she wore and compared it to the T-shirt the girl had on. Her smile grew as she realized she had just the right bait for this. With any luck by seven tonight, Rita would have her reward, Harley would have her answer, and she would have a grateful Sheriff on her hands.
**********
The editor stopped by the old-fashioned soda machine on the way to his office. He gave the machine the obligatory two punches just above the Coca-
Cola logo and waited for it to discharge the small bottle of soda. He retrieved it, repeated his actions, and entered his office where Harley had already taken a seat in front of his desk.Opening the first bottle with the wall mounted bottle opener under his window, he handed it to his sister and then sat as he opened his own.
He waited a moment until they both had time to take a few sips before he opened the conversation. "Okay, spill it. What's got you so tense?"
The woman took a deep breath and slouched down a little in the large comfortable leather chair. She crossed her legs at the ankles and stared at the toes of her boots as she formulated what to say to that.
"I take it you heard about what happened at Stephanie's this morning?"
J.D. just nodded and waited for her to go on.
"I need you to do a little investigative reporting. Only I need you to do the reporting to me alone. You up for it?"
"You know I am. Silly question. What do you need and when do you need it?"
She had to smile at that. Of course he was. She knew it and he knew she knew it.
"I need to know everything I can about a couple of people. People I would ordinarily, not give a rat's ass about, but I think I can't afford to feel that way anymore. Someone pulled that stunt with Emily this morning, and I need to know who and why and there's only two people I can think of who would get a kick out of it." She drew in and let out a deep breath. "I think the why will tell me the who, but that means I need to know what they've got going on. Everything. Financial records, police files, real estate holdings, business permits. Absolutely everything, like they were applying for a top-secret clearance. The only reason either one of them have for doing this is revenge, profit or power."
J.D. knew instantly to whom she was referring and agreed whole-heartedly. "Or 'D', all of the above or any combination thereof. How soon do you need it?"
Harley finished her Coke and leaned forward to place the empty on the editor's desk. "Soon. Right now, Emily's staying with Mom, but Stephanie will be up this week-end and Emily will probably go back to staying with her for a couple of days. If this wasn't directed at Emily, than one of the alternatives is that it was a personal attack on me through Emily." She leaned further over and rested her elbows on her knees. "I just don't know enough to keep her safe right now, and it bothers me."
Yeah, it does, doesn't it Harley? It's a lot more than just a puzzle to solve this time, isn't it Mongoose. Well, only one way to know with her and that's to ask.
"Okay, fair enough, but now are you going to tell me what has you so bugged, because it's more than this, isn't it?" The editor pinned his sister with his most uncompromising look.
If she had been nearly anyone else, it might have worked, but she wasn't. Her first inclination was to brush it off with an excuse about her being tired or concerned about a visitor to Bramble, but J.D. and she had always enjoyed a really close relationship and she rethought it.
"It's Emily."
**********
The walk up Prospector to Bender gave the small woman a few minutes to let her mind wander, and, as was usual for it the last couple of days, it wondered in the Sheriff's direction.I've really got to stop this. How can I even begin to consider how I feel about her until I start to figure out just what's been going on with me. I haven't been myself since that first night here and don't know if it's because I'm trying to be something I'm not or because… and this thought disturbed greatly, it's because this is the real me… the one I always should have been. Have I been living a lie so long that I never really gave a thought to it?
The ringing of her cell phone interrupted her musing. She awkwardly retrieved it from her right jacket pocket and answered. It wasn't until the voice replied that she regretted not having checked the caller ID to see who it was.
"Shasta, sweetie, where have you been? Derek, Tony and Giselle have been beside themselves with worry. They had to recruit some tourist to finish the match at the club, and Dolly was livid when you didn't attend her opening." The well-modulated voice was underplayed with just a touch of the Boston upper crust accent the woman had, and the petulance at having to remind the author of her social responsibilities.
Suddenly, the author was annoyed that this supposed friend of hers hadn't even opened the conversation with a simple, "How are you?" before she began to berate her. She suddenly remembered all those people here she'd met who wouldn't have dreamed of behaving that way and her annoyance began to morph into irritation. Allowing it to show in her voice she answered, "Teddy, I'm fine. I have a broken wrist but other than that, I'm just fine. How are you?"
"That's good dear." She replied absently. Shasta could tell by the sounds in the background that Teddy, AKA Theodora Cunningham Foxxe, was in her well appointed home gym on her treadmill. She always listened to the Beastie Boys when she exercised, and they were playing as loudly as ever in the background. Teddy had music for everything and she kept them separate. The Beastie Boys were exercise music. She dressed and made up to Enya. She said it made her calm and kept her from perspiring. "Well, I'll tell you. I'm furious. I was never so insulted in my life! Did you read that snide little comment about my party last week in the columns? They said…"
That's where Shasta's attention to Teddy left off. Her emotions were rolling over her like rain and she wasn't sure which one to hang onto. The strongest one was anger. She wasn't as sure about who she should direct it to. She was angry with Teddy for dismissing her injury so out of hand, but she felt equally angry for realizing it was something she had come to expect of her. Teddy was egotistical and vain and it was something for which she made no apology. The anger she felt at herself was because she put up with that from her so-called friend for so long. Why did I? This isn't what friendship is all about. Then she began to remember all the times she and Teddy spent together. Every one, she realized had been social. They were 'seen' together. They stroked each other's egos. She the celebrated author was often in the company of the eastern debutante and it served both of their purposes. She gave the stuffy family name of Foxxe a certain edge of racy rebelliousness due to her novels, and Teddy gave her an unauthorized entree to the acceptance of the 'old money' families who pretended to read nothing racier than Balzac. The other emotion she felt underlying the anger was hurt, and that surprised her. She was hurt that her obvious injury was not only dismissed by her 'friend' but also eclipsed in Teddy's mind by the insult done to her by one of the society columnists. Funny. A week ago if I was asked to name who, beyond my sister, was my best friend; I probably would have said Teddy. That brought her up short and she stopped walking all together as she realized how far from what she knew now, was the woman she knew herself to be just a week ago.
Interrupting Teddy's diatribe of the abuse she suffered was never easy, but this time she did it without the slightest hesitation, not even bothering to pretend to be polite. "Teddy, I have to go. I won't be in touch for a while. I'll let you know when I get back to town. Good bye." She clicked the 'end' button on the phone and snapped it shut. Her emotions were still racing along and she flip-flopped around in the current of them. Anger. Hurt. Fear. Then the one thing that seemed to calm them was the thought of Harley. Suddenly that long conversation she meant to have with herself for the last two days became crucial. She determined to reclaim the Sheriff and ask her to take her…someplace… where she could just sit and think for a while. I have no idea who I am and I have no idea what I want. She remembered what Stephanie told her on the phone. "Just calm down a little and see where you're going, cause girl, just between you and me, where you've been lately is ugly." She was right. She set her resolve in stone and started walking again. This time with a purpose that included more than just solving the puzzle of the person who invaded her bedroom; she needed to find herself.
**********
When Harley said nothing beyond "It's Emily", the editor tried to prompt her. "Emily?"
Harley got up from the chair and started to pace slowly back and forth in front of his desk. The office wasn't large and she would stop each time she got to the window next to the chair and look out. She opened her mouth to say something several times, but then thought better of it. She knew J.D. was the right one to talk to about this. She had a good relationship with all of her brothers, but each of them had their own strengths and weaknesses. Cole was just not people oriented. He had great compassion and that need that all healers had to help was strong within him, but he just couldn't relate well to person-to-person interactions. Hobie, also a doctor, had that. As well as compassion and understanding and vast amounts of patience, but he also saw Harley as his personal hero and as such, she knew he would find a hard time thinking anybody was worthy of her. Emerson was far too pragmatic. He'd carefully list for her all of her options and then ask the question she didn't want to face yet, "Have you talked to Emily about it?" Wilson was the real problem solver in the family. He took after her Dad so much that it was easy to see him following him in the business. He would list all the pros and cons in the situation and then tell her, if it looked like it would be 'good deal' or not. Nope. J.D. was the one. His natural penchant for journalism left him with all the right questions to ask and the ability to look at the issue inside and out, but the writer in him, the one who created with words would see the danger and the romance in it, and give her his best opinion.
"She… I…I'm very attracted to her." She said quietly.
He very nearly gave into his habit of teasing her with a comment about that, but held his tongue when he saw the look of confusion and intensity on her face.
"Go on."
She blew out a long breath and it all seemed to tumble over itself in a rush to get out. "I can't stop thinking about her. I think about her all the time. I miss her when she isn't with me. I keep having theses little flashes of us together in the future. They seem so real and clear. I almost kissed her, twice now. You know me J.D., that's just not like me. I've only known the woman for three days now and she's all I can think about. I don't know what to do. She's just a tourist. She's going to have her little holiday and go back to her life in L.A. and I can't see myself living anywhere but here. I know that long distance romances have hardly any chance of working. I don't know what to do. I just…. I've never felt this way before and I'm confused and I just don't know what to do." She stopped and plopped back down into the chair; leaning forward she put her elbows to her knees and held her head.
J.D. was pole axed. He'd never seen his eloquent and brilliant sister in such an obvious dither before. It shook him a little bit. Harley was always so on top of things and the thing she was the most on top of, was herself. She never seemed flustered or surprised or worried. She was all of that and more now. He wished he'd had a few more minutes to get to know the small woman that had his sister in such a state when they'd met the other night. She must really be something to have Harley so bent out of shape. Since it didn't look like that was going to happen just now, he felt he'd better say something to her to find out why this woman was getting to her so much. Maybe it was just lust.
As he opened his mouth to speak, he heard the bell chime on the front door and saw Harley shoot to her feet and look through the window in his door toward the front of the building.
"It's Emily. Let's talk about this later, okay? Maybe I'll call you, or you can call me or something, ya know? " She took a deep breath and tried to assume a look of only polite interest as Emily appeared at the window in the door and knocked quietly.
Chapter 18
Emily got a smile and a waving hand that indicated she should come in from both the brother and sister. As she opened the door, Harley was on her feet offering her the chair and gracefully closing the door behind her.
"J.D., you remember Miss. Cutter, right?" Harley said as she leaned casually against the door.
"Of course, how could I forget?" The smile he gave the injured woman was the spitting image of the one she had learned to adore from the Sheriff and she instantly rewarded him with one of her own. "How could I forget meeting one of the loveliest women to ever grace this town, let alone one of my favorite authors?" His smile became a grin with just a touch of teasing in it, as he continued, "Not to mention the only victim of a felony in Bramble for the last five years."
Harley stiffened at that and was just about to apologize for her brother's rude behavior when she heard the small woman laugh and the sound of it relaxed her.
"Well, I've always tried to be a woman of distinction. Who knew I'd be famous for this? Say, do you think I could work it into my bio for the book jackets, ya know, right after all that drivel about graduated Duke University and best-selling author and all?"
"Nah," D.J. replied, giving a little shake of his head, "I'd save the room for 'Winner of The Pulitzer Prize for literature'. You can just use this as chat on the talk shows promoting your next book." The grin returned and he looked at the lovely woman in front of him and realized how much he'd missed seeing in that dark parking lot. Well, I can sure see the attraction, Harley. You'd have to blind as well as stupid to miss it.
"Well, as Stephanie would say, if there is trouble to be found, I'll go out of my way to find it. Although, oddly enough, I haven't had to work very hard at it since I've been here." She grinned and the next words came out of her mouth without any thought behind them. "Maybe I better get out of town before things get worse." She couldn't understand the way her throat closed and her heart clenched as she uttered it, and she was so preoccupied with her own reaction she missed the stricken look on the face of the Sheriff, but J.D. didn't.
The tall woman leaning casually against the office door seemed to slump and for a few seconds she thought her knees would give out. This was the nightmare behind every thought of the smaller woman from the moment they met. She racked her brain frantically to find something to say that would make that idea disappear from the author's thoughts but her fear and agony wouldn't allow any logical thought process through.
Thankfully J.D. came in for the save. "Not a bit of it Miss. Cutter. What would fiction be without conflict? Here you have the perfect opportunity to find story ideas and you don't even have to work at it. I'll bet you're already mapping your next few books out in your mind, huh? I wouldn't be offended if you happened to add in a small town newspaper editor either. I see the character as" he leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling while he visualized, "tall, dark, wise and devastatingly handsome. A part-time lawman and full time hero. A man who works to better his community and bring to light the issues that impact the lives of the citizens for whom he serves. A man…."
His sister's voice cut the air interrupting his lofty ramblings. The words she said however didn't hold in them the gratitude she felt toward him. She knew her brother could feel it even if she didn't say it.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get over yourself J.D. Emily is used to having her books sell.
The author too was grateful for the ready-made excuse he provided to stick around. Even as confused and overwhelmed by her own self-realizations as she was, the last thing she wanted to do was leave.
"I couldn't agree with you more J.D., and please call me Emily. I have at least four new stories running around in my brain and they can all trace their origins to Bramble and the people in it. I have to stick around just to see where my muse will take me."She leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Besides, I promised I'd help the Sheriff figure out this little problem. You know these lawyer types have trouble thinking three dimensionally."
He leaned forward as well and matched her low tone. "I know. I blame it on all that Latin. Too regimented. No chance to think creatively."
The author shook her head in agreement. "Exactly! That whole 'Just the fact's ma'am' mentality can really hinder a person's perspective, so I feel that's it's, well, my duty, to kind of guide her in the right direction, if you know what I mean."
The editor couldn't help the small grin he was trying to suppress while bantering with the small woman. He saw now a good deal of what his sister must have seen in her. He was impressed with her wit and charm and found himself liking her a lot. Good girl, Emily. You just stick around. I think you two will be good for each other, and I'm going to help in any way I can.
"I do Emily. I really do. These legal types just can't seem to loosen up enough to see the possibilities. Why, I remember this one time…""Alright, alright" The sheriff's voice fairly dripped with disgust, but her smile gave her away. "That's enough. You "Creative" types," she used both hands to make quotation marks in the air, "can continue your diatribe about us rational types later. Right now I have a case to solve." She opened the door and continued. "Let's go Emily. Let's leave William Randolph Hearst here to his business." She stepped out and listened as her brother's parting shot rang though the building.
"It was great talking to you Emily and if you ever need someone, well, let's say, more well-rounded to talk you, you know where you can find me." He rose and walked her to his office door seeing Harley at the door to the street holding it open for the blonde. In a stage whisper he was sure would carry to the sheriff he said, " It's not really her fault. She was spoiled as a child. You know, Daddy's girl?"
Emily giggled and responded in kind. "In that case, I'll cut her some slack." She smiled as she started to walk toward the woman holding the door. Her voice at normal pitch again, she threw over her shoulder, "Great talking to you, J.D. See you later."
As they walked toward the patrol car Harley asked, "So, what did you find out from Rita, Miss Creativity?" She leaned on the front bumper and crossed her arms waiting for the woman standing next to her to respond.
Emily rested her weight on one hip and said. "Nothing, yet."
"Ah ha! All that creativity at your disposal and you get bupkas, eh? Well, never mind, I'll talk to her and we'll…"
"Wait a minute. I said nothing yet. The bait is set and the trap gets sprung tonight at six o'clock." The small triumphant smile Emily wore as she spoke made the Sheriff a little nervous.
She cleared her throat and said simply. "Explain."
"Sure, but in the mean time I was wondering if we could go someplace." The smile left her face and a look of trepidation replaced it. Harley had no idea what the reason for it was, only that she wanted it to go away. Now. "What is it Emily. What's wrong?"
The writer looked at her loafers and took a deep breath. Now that she was here and had to ask for it, she didn't know how. She decided maybe just being honest with the facts would work and went with that.
"I need a place to think for a while." She tilted her head at the sheriff and shyly continued. "A lot has happened to me in the last couple of days and I need some time to sit quietly and think it through. Do you know what I mean? I mean, I just need a little space to put my thoughts in order and think about things."
Yeah I know exactly what you mean. More lately than ever. I've got to make some time to do that too, and very soon.
"Yeah, I do know, " she said. She tried to think of a good place to leave the writer alone for a while, somewhere quiet and most of all, safe."Well, when you feel this way at home, where do you usually go?"
The author laughed deprecatingly as she said. "My living room." She smiled and continued. "I have this great view of the beach from my living room windows and since I live alone I just put a cushion on the floor, put the phone on mute, put in some quiet classical music and do a little meditation. By the time the CD ends I can just open my eyes and stare at the ocean and clear my head." Thinking about it and the equivalent possibilities found in Bramble, produced an image of a large floor to ceiling window facing the woods at Harley's house. It would be perfect, but she knew she could never ask for it.
"How about my house?" The minute she heard Emily describe what she needed she saw the woman seated before the window at her house, facing west as the sun set through the trees.
"Perfect." The word just jumped out of her mouth before she could censor herself. Feeling a little embarrassed by her eagerness, she tried to cover it by more conversation. She reached for the handle on the car as she said, "Great, why don't we drive there and I'll tell you about my talk with Rita and what's happening tonight."
The sheriff nodded and moved to get in the car. As they turned around and headed to Harley's the writer started revealing her plans.
"When I walked into that classroom I realized it was a creative writing class. I assumed that Rita was helping the teacher because she wanted to and not because she had to. Am I right?"
"Yeah. She's always been one of you 'creative types' and even though she's only fourteen, she takes her last two classes at the high school with Mrs. Johansson because she's so bright, they ran out of things for her to do in the elementary school. She wants to be a writer." The sheriff smiled at her and could see the immediate advantage Emily would have with the girl.
"I thought so. I kind of hit them over the head with my pen name and the rest was pretty easy. After her teacher and I talked for a while we left and I asked her to help me at Stephanie's tonight. I told her I needed help moving my things to the guest room and changing the bed linens before Stephanie comes and she agreed to come over at six and help me out. When she gets there, I plan to take it to the next level and use some of her hero worship and a little bribery to get the information."
"Bribery?"
"Yeah. I caught a clue as soon as I saw her turn around and then when I got a look at her backpack I knew I had my hook. I'll bet she's the middle child, right?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?" Harley's respect for the woman's insight was clear in her eyes as she spoke.
"She had written a quote by Rufus Choate in magic marker on the front of her back pack." She could see it clearly as she spoke of it, black calligraphy against the bright yellow backpack. "It said, "A book is the only immortality." For someone that young to feel the need to remind herself of that says that she feels the need to standout. Make her mark, so to speak. It's typical of the middle child, and their need to be noticed and distinctive."
Harley was impressed with the woman's knowledge of human nature and her ability to read people so quickly. She still wasn't sure what the plan for tonight was though."And you are going to use this knowledge, how?
""Well, she obviously wants to be a writer and being one myself will make her more likely to go out of her way to please me. It's what I would have done at her age. I'd have made myself as indispensable as possible hoping to learn everything I could and make that person I idealized my friend, maybe my mentor. However, that's not all I have up my sleeve." Her smile turned a bit evil as she stared through the windshield.
"Okay, what else have you dreamed up in that oh so creative brain of yours?" The dark haired woman was intrigued by that little smile the author wore. I can see now it might be a really bad mistake to misjudge the convolutions of that mind. Note to self: Never underestimate the bard. Second note to self: Try to stay on her good side!
"Well, as I remember myself at that age two things about being fourteen stand clearly forth. One, I was an absolute slave to fashion. Whatever was hot and happening had me by the short hairs. If it was popular, I did it." She laughed a little remembering some of the awful things she wore at that age just because 'everyone else was wearing it.' The image of a younger, shorter, less developed, less confidant self, dressed in spandex shorts on those skinny legs, with the pink tank over the rose T-shirt tied beneath her non-existent bust and that terrible hair assaulted her. The sadist who created hair crimpers should be forced inside a giant one and crimped to death.
"Two, I was addicted to popular music. I carried it with me wherever I went. It was the background to everything I did, including sleeping, and that's where I'll win Rita over.' She turned her head and gifted the sheriff with a confidant smile.
"What? Don't tell me you're in a rock band too? I know you're gifted and very smart but I really didn't think your talent extended to electric guitar and lyric writing." The sheriff smirked and lifted her brows inquisitively. "Sing something for me, come on. How about eight bars of Melissa's 'I'm the Only One'?" The smirk became a grin and the seduction was on again full force. What in the hell am I saying? I just can't seem to stop myself. Well, she seems okay with it, lets see how far I can push it. "Ah, the visual of you up on the stage, Fender in hand, belting out hard candy rock and roll, shaking your head, sweating and grinding your hips… whooee, lady." Harley stopped to register Emily's look of shock and decided to let her off the hook. "See. And you thought I couldn't be creative!" She stuck the tip of her tongue out at the younger woman before firmly resuming her watch of the road before her.
"I … you…" Emily's sputtering came to a halt when she realized she had no clue what to say in response. She was torn in so many directions. She was awed that the sheriff could paint such a picture of her, and even more, that the visual she painted for her seemed to be something the dark woman would like to see. She was reeling from the obvious flirtation and her libido made an appearance out of the blue, and she was angry because no one, NO ONE had ever left her a stuttering speechless mess the way this woman had. Words were what she did. She'd never been left groping for a response and she didn't like the feeling. She felt like an adolescent and she hadn't liked that the first time around. Jesus, what you do to me Harley. I don't know whether I'm coming or going with you and the only constant is my need to have you near. I have got to get a hold of myself. Just the thought of the unintentional double entendre made her smile and frown in quick succession. Maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe I've just been "lonely" too long and I'm just reacting to the stimulus of a beautiful woman paying me attention. The frown accompanied the thought that self-abuse with one arm in a cast was going to be difficult and unwieldy. Accepting that this line of thinking was getting her nowhere, she took a quick breath and tried to formulate words into coherent sentences.
"No way. I only do personal appearances one on one." Ha! Take that. And this… "I'll just let The Boys take care of her."
The Boys? No matter who they are, I don't like the sound of that. Particularly that she knew whoever they were well enough to call them 'The Boys.' Drat! Having had the bait flung in her teeth, she was left with no recourse but to open her mouth. "Okay, I'm all a quiver with anticipation. Now, just who are The Boys?" She couldn't help the disdain that dripped from her voice when mouthing the last two words. Whoever they were, they should get boils on their butt's.
"Yeah, The Boys. Kevin, A.J., B-Rok, Nick and Howie D. The Backstreet Boys. She was wearing their T-shirt when I met her. Now as I remember me at that age, I wasn't just a fan of rock and roll groups, I was a fanatic. So this should work out nicely, since they happen to be friends of mine."
The sheriff's rueful smile and nodding head gave instant approval to the author's idea.
"Oh yeah, she's really hot for them. She was close to clinically depressed at the beginning of last month when her folks said she was too young to go see them in concert. They were doing a charity gig in Santa Barbara for one night only and when they told her no, she decided to go live with her big sister in L.A. I found her where Bender turns onto the highway at ten-thirty at night. She was going to hitch a ride." Harley gave a little laugh. "You're right though. I remember how I felt at that age. There is nothing more foolish than a girl/woman in flux." She blew out a short breath. "All that estrogen and no idea what to do with it. I don't know why my mother just didn't kill me outright. I put that woman through hell."
As much as Emily would have liked to pursue that last remark and find out more about the woman she was so fascinated by, something else the sheriff said had her attention. " So what happened after you found her? Did you just bring her back home?""Eventually. We talked for a while and she told me how she felt they were being unfair to her." Harley gave a knowing smile to Emily who nodded back, "Then she told me how all her friends were going." The author groaned at the phrase every teen-age girl in history must have used at one point as the sheriff nodded and said "I know, then I suggested maybe going to see her big sister for a couple of days would be a good idea. She idolizes her, and always has. I figured at least she wouldn't be here to hear about her friends doing what she wasn't allowed to do, and then we went and talked to her Mom and Dad. Next day her sister picked her up for a few days and when she came back, she was fine."
That's the clincher. Only three possible scenarios will fit. Thank you Harley! "Her sister lives in L.A.?"
"Yeah. She always hated it here. Couldn't wait to leave." Harley's voice was even but the author could tell that she felt sad about it. "She works in some big office for some kind of executive. She hardly ever gets back here and when she does, all she can do is put down small town living and compare it to the fast life style she has in L.A."
Emily held her next question for later as they pulled into Harley's driveway. First things first, if I'm going to do this I have to clear my head.
They went inside and Harley showed her where to find her CD's and how to operate her stereo, brought over a couple of large cushions and placed them on the floor in front of the window and told her she'd be back at a quarter of five to get her for dinner and then left her alone with her thoughts
.**********
The sheriff didn't drive far, just up the road, around a small copse of trees and then about a quarter of a mile in she stopped and got out. She thought she'd take a few minutes to clear her own head and this is where she always came to do that.
The hike up the barely visible trail to the summit of the hill would have been overlooked if you weren't specifically looking for one. She took her accustomed seat on the large flat rock over looking the gorge and smaller hill on the opposite side. Just barely visible in the distance was a small plume of smoke from the ancient cabin of the hermit who'd lived there for the last eleven years. The sheriff had wondered about him often and tried to garner as much information as she could before her father told her flatly, to drop the issue. "He's not hurting anybody and some people just need to be alone. Now you give him his privacy and let him be!" If it was anyone else but her father saying that, she'd have ignored it, but it wasn't and she agreed, grudgingly, to let the man alone.
Often when she came here though she wondered about him and gave herself over to creating a reason for his seclusion and withdrawal. It was calming, because she never had to verify it or worry if her theory was wrong and by the time she quit her contemplation, whatever was troubling her was reduced to manageability. But not today. Today she needed to really give some thought to how she was feeling and what, if anything to do about it.
Emily. What in the world do I do?
**********
Mozart had just finished and her breathing was almost non-discernable as she sat in the full lotus and tried to allow her thoughts to center. She switched to a different breathing technique and told herself to find the answers. After a few more minutes, she opened her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath, focusing on the light of the sunset in just one spot as it poked through the trees in front of her.
Who are you Emily?
The image of herself as a child before her parents death came to her and alongside that, an image of herself a month ago and one of this morning. She noted the differences in appearance from her childhood to now and let that go. Then she tried to feel the differences in the way she felt and thought.
The first thing that became clear to her was that today's image was much closer emotionally; to the child she used to be, than the person she was a month ago.
The next was that, the feeling of who she was a month ago was much safer than the woman who woke up this morning. Casual and detached were much easier things to be. There was no risk in that.
I guess one answer is that who I am, or who I have been up until now is… a fraud.
And WHAT I am mostly is … afraid.
Chapter 19
By the time Harley came back to pick her up, Emily had answers to some of her questions.
She knew that she liked who she was, here, today, much better than who she used to be back in L.A. She knew if she acted the way she acted here back in L.A., she'd get eaten alive. She realized that all the people she socialized with at home, outside of her sister either used her for her celebrity, sex or their own ego. She realized she used all of them the same way. That wounded her. What she still hadn't quite gotten a handle on was the why of her feelings for Harley. The obvious was discarded instantly. Her beauty, her intelligence and her charm were things she'd found before in others. Well, maybe not her beauty. That still couldn't account for the reason she felt so… safe, so at ease with her.Safe? What is that about? Since when do I need to feel protected by someone else? Always, well not always, but since she was fifteen and her parents died she took great pride in caring for herself, even in caring for her sister. After her aunt and uncle adopted them she put all of her energy into studying and trying to be too strong to need anyone again the way she had her parents. To be so suddenly orphaned from her best friends had left a huge hole and she felt totally adrift for a few months. When she finally made the connection that being dependant on someone else for your emotional well being put you in danger of that feeling, she resolved to be completely independent and self-sufficient. She wasn't foolish enough to lose her belief in love and relationships, but she knew as well as she knew her own name, that she would never succumb to that sappy ideal of believing that anyone else was responsible for her own happiness. She was responsible for that. Which is the reason she couldn't quite get why the feeling of being safe when Harley was near, was so very comforting. Resolving to let it go for a while, she reflected then on what she wanted to do about the woman. Her only answer fairly screamed at her. Make her mine and hold on. That would have to be enough for now.
**********
Harley felt she was worse off than she was before she sat to think. She tried to think of the writer rationally and objectively, but she couldn't and that never happened before. She was always able to call up her own inner jury, as she thought of it, and to lay forth in calm and clear words the case for or against and accept the obvious verdict. With Emily it just didn't happen. She kept getting these little tugs at her heart and her breath kept catching as she remembered how she looked or what she said at one time or another. As she tried to determine her best course of action, knowing that the woman was bound to leave her in the end, she kept feeling her heartbeat pick up and found her throat filled with misery. She tried to see herself leaving Bramble to be with her and before she could stop it her eyes filled with liquid and her chest ached.
By the end of her time on the ledge, she felt like she'd been wrestling with the devil. She was emotionally drained and her body actually ached from all the time she held her muscles so rigid.
Maybe, just this once, nothing is the best thing to do. Just let it run its course and live with the outcome. Get back to your job and get to the bottom of it. That way, the end of this whole issue with Emily will come sooner and that has to be better. The more I'm with her the less I want to let her go and she's probably going to go, so just deal with it at the time and stop suffering in advance. She took a couple of deep cleansing breaths and tightened and relaxed her muscles all over before making her way back to the car.She buckled the seat belt and backed out for a U-turn before her rebellious emotions hit her like a tidal wave and she thought only, She can't go. She belongs here. She belongs with me!
**********
"That seems like a whole lot of money for this old place. Are you sure this is…okay?" the elderly woman furrowed her forehead and shook it slightly. No doubt the offer was attractive and she could sure use the money, but it just seemed wrong somehow. She didn't want to feel she was taking advantage of anyone. "You know the plumbing here has been going bad recently and I think I need the cesspool drained and then there's the fencing out back. I'm sure I don't know how that whole stretch of fence came down but it's gonna cost a bit to have it put right. Then there's the electricity. Lately it's been just going out on me and I never know when I'll…"
"Don't you worry, Mrs. Pechter, my buyer is aware of all of that. The offer still stands. You just think of yourself now Dear, and what you would do with all that money." There was a short pause and then the old woman heard a noise in the background. "I have to go now, but I'll be sure to call you later today or tomorrow morning and we'll get this all settled. As I said before, please don't worry Mrs. Pechter, my buyer is happy and you should be too. Bye bye now."
Polly Pechter returned the handset to the cradle of the phone and stared out her kitchen window to the front of the house she'd lived in for forty-seven years. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars is a LOT of money. Delvin and I only paid eighteen thousand for the house and the eight acres it rested on when we bought it in 1952. That, along with what is left of Delvin's pension as well as my own and my social security would mean I'd never be a burden to Livie and Daniel. Now, with Edna gone and the Jacoby's moved, it's so lonely. The money could solve all that. I could move to Jacksonville and not have to worry about needing help from Livie and Daniel. Lord knows with two little ones to care for, they can't afford to be taking care of an old woman too, and maybe if I'm smart I'll have a little to leave them when I go. Can't be too far down the road. Suddenly she heard her Mother's voice clear and sharp in her head. "Pollyanna Vivien! This is nothing less than highway robbery. How can you think of swindling someone like that? You know this place isn't worth that kind of money. It's just unchristian to consider taking it. Is that what the Lord would want to see you do?"
Polly was torn and with Edna's death last May, she had no one to discuss this with. She and Edna had been best friends for forty years and with her gone and her nearest neighbors, the Jacoby's, moved to Merced last month, she felt alone and abandoned. Of course she knew everyone in town, after all she was the Post Master for Bramble for over twenty years till she retired twelve years ago, but since then she'd been happy to keep pretty much to herself and tend to her garden and her orchard and spend time with Edna three or four times a week, at least until Edna passed on last May. Now she knew how it felt to feel truly alone. Delvin's death seven years ago wasn't unexpected. The cancer held him for close to four years before he passed and she was glad for him to be in heaven and out of pain. She knew he was waiting for her there when it was her time. Only now she worried if he'd be glad to see her if she took the deal she'd been offered.
She blew a breath of air out and decided to pray on it and sleep on it and hope she got her answer in the morning. Then, she got up and started supper feeling a little better that she was going to put the matter in the hands of the Lord.
**********
"What are you doing here? I thought you understood my instructions not to deviate from your normal routine."
"I understood. It's only one day early and I wanted some company." The tall shapely redhead slid sensuously down in the imitation leather chair and made a point of crossing her legs at the knee. The short brown skirt slid up her thighs revealing several more inches of toned flesh as she rested her arms on the armrest and watched the eyes behind the desk look at her legs. To add a bit more visual interest she allowed one spiked-heel alligator pump from her top most foot to slip off to the floor. She pointed her toes and watched as the eyes across from her followed her calf and thigh muscles as they flexed.
"What happened to your toy?" The tone of voice was uninterested and casual but the eyes never left her legs.
"I broke it."
She leaned forward and crossed her arms over her knee lifting her chin and inhaling hard to allow the eyes a new view. The soft brown cashmere stretched across what wasn't exposed of her breasts. The deep scoop of the neckline revealed just a hint of chocolate lace edging the demi-cups that spilled over with tan full flesh.
"Ah." The voice remained casual as the eyes lifted to the sweater and what was exposed above it, but only for a second. Then they darkened as they lifted to the face. "We can let this little discrepancy go… just this once, then."
The redhead smiled and took a breath to speak but was cut off when the other voice continued."However," the voice hardened even as it quieted to a near whisper, "we need to discuss the amount of discretion you have in altering our understanding, and we need to clarify just who is in charge here." The eyes deepened again and the room got suddenly colder. "We'll begin now."
**********
The drive back to the Nest was fairly quiet. Since returning to her house to pick up the writer their only conversation was a simple exchange of banal pleasantries.
"Do you feel better now?"
"Yes, thank you." "Did you have enough time?"
"Yes. Did you?"
"Oh yeah. Would you like something to drink before we go or would you like to just head out?"
"Either way is fine with me. Whatever you want to do."It didn't really matter who asked or answered the questions. They were simply courteous conversation. Nothing more personal than a sales clerk talking to a customer-and it all seemed very stilted and wrong.
Try as she might, Harley couldn't think of anything to say to break the oppressive silence. Every thought she had of anything to say came out sounding way too personal and concerned, and that would never do. She made the decision to simply put her mind on the case and try to keep everything between them as superficial and remote as possible. It was the only way she could see to protect herself from the misery she knew would come when the small woman resumed her former life.
Emily was aware that the silence was becoming almost a palpable thing between them and it made her very uncomfortable. Always before the silences between them had either, tinges of sexual tension or felt tranquil. This one was not and she had no clue how to break it. She still felt the frission of that fear she realized was the most obvious of her feelings where the Sheriff was concerned and she was at a complete loss as to what to do about it. It was bound up in layers, like a quilt. Fear of risking her emotional stability if she gave into her feelings. Fear of failing if she attempted to change her life and wasn't good enough or strong enough or genuine enough to fit in here. Fear that her feelings for Harley ran deeper and stronger than the Sheriff's did for her. Since she didn't know how to fight the feeling and she didn't know if she was strong enough to fix it, she floundered. Wanting the dream was all well and good, but how do you catch it? She only knew what she wrote about and she made that up.
Arriving at the Nest and pulling into the parking lot prompted Harley to speak.
"I…umh, I have some business to take care of, so I'll just drop you off." She pointed to a blue van and said, "Rory, the night prep cook is in so Mom will be free to leave anytime." She deliberately avoided looking at the writer while she spoke and tried hard to keep her voice casual and businesslike. What she really needed to do was get away from the temptation the woman was for a while. The whole situation was hard for her. Reticence was not a normal state of being and she found it hard to keep herself at arms length like this. She found she had to keep biting her tongue to keep from saying what was on her mind and as a result, her discomfort increased exponentially.
The realization that Harley was leaving her behind struck her. Suddenly that fear quilt gained another layer when she realized the woman wouldn't be with her. All the other fears seemed to fade away leaving her with the most poignant one staring her in the face. Forgetting every other reasonable, rational thought and concentrating only on stopping her, Emily blurted out "What about tonight? What about Rita? How do I get to Stephanie's and uhm, when she caves and tells me she gave the alarm combination to someone, what do I do then? Do you want to talk to her or should I just, uhm, pretend it was unimportant, or what?" She realized then her words were spoken way too fast and that the obvious sound of fear was threaded though them and worried that Harley would remark on it.
Ye gods! If nothing else proves I'm in trouble that just did. What was I thinking? Obviously not about the case I'm on. I have got to pull my self together and stop fretting about this. She could have been killed this morning alone in that house and I need to make sure that doesn't happen. Thinking of where the writer had to go she realized what a dangerous situation she was putting her in.
"Okay, this is what we'll do. You give me a call on my cell phone as soon as you finish eating and I'll drop you off at Stephanie's no later than ten till six. I'll park the car on the street behind you and be standing by in the back. If you see anything out of the ordinary or feel anything isn't right, call out or get out the back door or flip the lights on and off and I'll be there in a second." She paused and thought for moment. "I don't think I'll need to talk to Rita right away. I do need to know who she gave the numbers to and when she did it. Come out to the deck as soon as you're sure she's gone and we'll go from there. " She turned slightly to the other woman. "I don't like having you go into that house alone. I'm pretty sure what happened this morning won't happen again, but I want you to instantly open the blinds in the living room and stay there until Rita shows up before you go into the bedroom. I want to be able to see you at all times. When she gets there, open the curtains to the bedroom deck and try and stay in front of it."
Emily nodded and calmed a bit when she realized Harley would be there for her. Would be there with her. Underneath her other emotions she felt the Sheriff drawing back, seemingly, drawing away from her and she was only relatively reassured by her offer to be with her tonight, even if she would be outside. She nodded again and turned to try to open her door with her left hand when, once again Harley reached across her to open it for her. The whiff of that unidentifiable scent the woman used and the smell of outdoors that permeated her hair and clothes caused her to inhale deeply. She made a little more noise than she wanted to and received a 'what is it' kind of look from the Sheriff as she sat back up again. Not ready to talk about it and a little embarrassed by her own lack of control, she made her out of the car as quickly as her limited movement would allow. Walking toward the back entrance to the Raven's Nest she turned her head briefly over her shoulder and smiled, waving slightly with her left hand as she left.
**********
The sweat had begun to dry on her steaming skin and the chafing from the leather straps around her wrists was sore. She hated playing the submissive but realized in this instance she had no choice. True, she had overstepped her restrictions by showing up early, but she knew that wasn't the real reason for the punishment. She was paying for her subordinate's mistakes. Shit may flow downstream, but the one in charge really paid the price for her wannabe soldier's mistakes. She was angry too at the way her body betrayed her. It rankled her that she'd gotten so excited… so aroused. In the power game they played only one could be in charge and she was determined once again that she would. They both wanted the same things in this game with the Ravensdown's, but for her it was personal vindication and she was determined to make her victim pay, no matter what it took in the short term, It would be worth it to pull this off. She took in a deep breath and decided to forget about her treatment this afternoon. Rubbing her hands over the bite mark on her breast and willing the sting from the lash marks on her back and buttocks to quiet. It didn't really matter. Not if she was the one holding all the cards in the end. She was sure that would be the case.
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