“HOW DID IT GO?” Zeke asked later that evening when they met at Riley’s house to finalize their campaign plans.
“Interesting.”
Riley was already on his second Scotch. He figured he might as well go for a third later. The situation would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with drunk. Not that three drinks would even get him close, but it was a start.
“Define interesting,” Zeke said. “Interesting good?”
Riley closed his eyes as he relived the afternoon he’d spent going door-to-door in Los Lobos.
“I visited about thirty houses where someone was home. I’d say about eight-five percent of them basically told me they wouldn’t vote for me until hell froze over.”
Zeke swore. “It’s the Gracie thing, isn’t it?”
Riley nodded. Who knew that something from his past would jump up and bite him so firmly in the ass? “It was those damn newspaper articles,” he said grimly. “People who had never heard of Gracie or me feel as if they lived a part of our lives with us. They feel involved. Right now they’re taking her side and assuming I’m the bastard in all this.”
To think he’d come so far only to lose it over something like this.
“You must want to kill her, huh?” Zeke said.
“Not really.”
Riley knew it was probably the logical reaction, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame Gracie. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Oh, sure, he was past angry. It was ninety-seven million dollars and more importantly, a chance to screw his uncle. But the disaster wasn’t Gracie’s fault.
Which brought him to an interesting question. Why wasn’t he blaming her? If she hadn’t come back to Los Lobos, none of this would have happened.
And that was the kicker, he thought as he stared at the bookshelf across from his chair and finished his drink. He didn’t want to take back what had happened. Not the part that included her.
“So what are they saying?” Zeke asked. “That you should treat her better?”
“That I should marry her.”
“So why don’t you?”
Riley turned to his office manager and glared. “Marry her?”
“For the election. Listen, it’s not a crazy idea. You could work something out with her. A temporary marriage to win the election. You wouldn’t even have to marry her. You could just get engaged. Gracie’s a sweetie. She’ll say yes.”
She probably would, he thought. Knowing Gracie. She would feel horrible about what had happened and do everything in her power to make it right.
“No.”
Zeke stared at him. “What? No? Just like that? You’re not even going to ask her?”
“No.”
“Why not? It’s the perfect solution. What’s the problem?”
Interesting question, and one Riley couldn’t answer. He would have married Gracie if she’d been pregnant, but he wouldn’t do it this way. Not even a fake engagement. Besides, with his luck, an engagement wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to go through with it.
“I won’t screw with her life like that,” Riley said. “Leave it alone. We’ll come up with another solution.”
“I don’t have another solution.”
“Then you’re going to have to find one. That’s why I pay you the big bucks.”
Zeke looked cornered. “Riley, the election is in less than a week. I can’t fix this in a week without using Gracie. You have to know that.”
“Find another way.”
“But…” Zeke closed his mouth and nodded. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”
IT HAD BEEN forty-eight hours and Gracie still had trouble grasping the truth of the situation.
She loved Riley. Loved him. Crazy or not, he made her heart beat faster, her body tingle and when they kissed, she saw sparks. Even better, he was a great guy. She could imagine being with him always, growing old with him, having kids with him. The only thing she couldn’t picture was how she was going to tell him the truth.
“After the election,” she reminded herself as she stretched the rolled fondant onto the last of the cakes. “He’ll be able to deal with me then.”
Until that time, she would simply bask in her newfound feelings and work on the cake for the historical society.
Her plans, and her good pans, were still at Pam’s, but Gracie remembered the basic design. She’d planned on a square three-layer cake in the center with smaller layer cakes spread out around. Almost like houses in a town. She’d gone with a white fondant and a basket weave pattern on the sides. Simple flowers would decorate the top.
She’d made a duplicate sketch from memory and consulted it now as she began decorating the cakes. Her head felt a little fuzzy, as if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Which was partially true, but not enough to make her feel so weird.
Maybe it was Riley withdrawal, she thought with a smile. They’d been talking several times a day on the phone, but he’d been so caught up in election stuff that he hadn’t been able to stop by. Too bad-she was going to need another fix soon.
The strips of basket weaving went on easily. Gracie had created cakes like this dozens of times before. The roses were all prepared. When she finished the basket weave, she would anchor them in place.
Over the next few hours, the cake came together, even as her body seemed to be falling apart. Her head ached, her body felt heavy. Putting on the final roses seemed to take every bit of her concentration.
Finally she had the separate cakes in pink boxes and ready for delivery. She carefully put the boxes in the refrigerator so that she could take them over in the morning. She closed the door and felt the room tilt. Not a good sign.
Gracie checked to make sure the oven was off, then made her way to the bedroom where she collapsed onto the bed. A voice in her head said she should at least kick off her shoes or get under the covers, but then she got very, very sleepy and very, very weak and the whole world just faded away.
GRACIE WASN’T SURE what time it was when she woke up. The room wouldn’t stop spinning and she couldn’t believe that she was both burning up and shivering. Her mouth was dry, her body ached and she really wanted someone to shoot her and put her out of her misery.
Instead she did her best to stare at the clock and try to figure out if it was the next day or not. There was sunshine. Had it been sunny when she’d taken a header on the bed?
When the swirling numbers refused to focus, she forced herself to her feet where she staggered through the house until she found her cell phone and called a number she’d only recently put in her directory.
“Hello?”
“Riley?” It hurt to talk. Her throat felt as if she’d been snacking on fire.
“Gracie? Is that you? What’s wrong?”
“I just…” She shuffled to a chair and sank onto the seat. “I don’t feel very good. I have a bug, or something. I can’t…” Rational thought faded. What was her point? Oh, yeah. “The cake. Is it Saturday?”
“Most of the day.”
“Okay. Good. I haven’t missed it.”
I haven’t missed it. Why did that line sound familiar? It was from a movie, she thought hazily. Yeah. A movie she liked. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
“A Christmas Carol,” she said triumphantly. “I haven’t missed it. The spirits have done it all in one night.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.
“How sick are you?” Riley asked.
“Not a clue. But the cake has to go to the historical society. I can’t take it. Can you take it? Can you take it and set it up? Can you take it and set it up and make sure it’s okay?”
“Yes. Stop trying to talk. Do you have any food? Are you eating?”
“My tuna salad, but I had a bunch yesterday and I don’t want any more.”
“Are you drinking?”
“Not sure liquor’s the answer.”
“Obviously not. I’ll stop and bring by supplies. Give me an hour.”
“I’ll just be here.” She closed her eyes. “Maybe I’ll go back to bed.” She touched her hot face. “I don’t think I look very good. I might have to throw up.”
“I can handle it. Just try to rest.”
“Sure. No problem.”
The phone slipped from her fingers. Gracie thought about trying to pick it up but the ground was so far away. When had it gotten so far away?
“Last week,” she said as she pushed to her feet. She swayed for a second, then made her way back to her bedroom where she did her best to get out of her clothes. The shirt was easy, as was the bra. But her pants proved insurmountable, so she left them on, along with her socks. She’d already lost her shoes somewhere.
She dug a nightgown out of a drawer, although the act of bending over nearly had her passing out. She managed to pull the nightgown over her head, then she had to fall onto the bed and sleep.
She came awake to the sound of someone pounding on the door. The loudness of the banging, along with the semi-frantic speed told her that whoever it was had been at it for a while.
“I’m okay,” she said, though her voice sounded faint and scratchy. She pushed into a sitting position, then forced herself to her feet. Once there it wasn’t too hard to sort of walk and bump her way along the hallway wall.
“It’s like pinball,” she said with a giggle as she reached for the front door. “I want extra points.”
That statement was made as Riley pushed inside. “Points for what?” he asked as he looked her over, then touched her face. “You have a fever.”
“Huh.” She pointed at the bag in his arms. “Whattcha got? Something for me?”
She took a step forward, intending to look inside the bag. But somehow her feet got caught or didn’t move or something because she was falling and falling and there didn’t seem to be a way to stop herself.
Then big strong arms scooped her up and she was flying down the hall and into her bedroom.
“Tylenol for fever,” Riley said as he set her on the mattress. “I called Diane and asked. Then I bought some. And soup. But I don’t think I should leave you alone.”
She sank back on the bed and sighed. “Then you should stay. It’s fine with me.” Her eyes slowly closed for a second, before she forced them open again. “The cake. You have to take the cake. It’s Saturday, right?”
“Still. Yes.” He sat down next to her and brushed the hair off her forehead. “I’m going to call your sister. Give me her number.”
“Which one?”
“She has more than one phone number?”
“What? No. Which sister. Alexis. Call Alexis. But don’t bother her. I’m fine.”
She read off the number. Riley punched it into his cell phone and started speaking. Gracie did her best to listen. She wanted to tell him not to bother, that she would survive on her own. Had he brought soup? Was there soup?
“She’ll be here in a couple of hours,” he said. “I’ll wait.”
That sounded good to her, except…“The cake. Just take it over now, please. They’ve got to be worried. It’s in boxes.”
“More than one?”
She nodded, then wished she hadn’t when her head began to ache. “Five. I was going to connect them like a street thing. You know. A map or whatever, but just set them out so they look nice. There are five boxes. Did I say that?”
“Yes. Why are you wearing your jeans under your nightgown?”
“They were too hard to get off.”
“I can help with that.”
He bent over her and quickly removed her jeans, then pulled down her nightgown.
“Slide under the covers,” he said. “I’ll tuck you in.”
She liked the sound of that. She liked having him around. In the back of her mind, a thought nagged, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Was she supposed to tell him something? Or was she keeping a secret?
“How’s the campaign going?” she asked.
“Good.”
He didn’t look at her as he spoke, which made her wonder if he was telling the truth. Was there-
Oh! She loved him! That was it. The secret. She found herself wanting to blurt it out right now. To say the words and see how he reacted. If he cared about her, maybe it would be a good thing. Maybe-
“Gracie?”
She heard him speak her name, but the sounds came from far, far away. Her eyes were far too heavy to open. Everything was heavy. And hot. And just too…
GRACIE ROLLED OVER and found herself drenched. Her body was cold and chilled, her nightgown soaked. Her eyes popped open and she looked around, half expecting to see the ocean in her bedroom.
Instead Alexis sat on a chair in the corner. She looked up and smiled. “Are you sane again?”
Gracie blinked at her. “When wasn’t I?”
“You’ve been out of it ever since I got here. Riley said he got a couple of Tylenol down you and I guess they kicked in. Or you beat the fever. You were burning up for a while. How do you feel now?”
“Like I just fell into a pool.”
Alexis stood and walked to the bed. “That means the fever’s broken. Good for you.” She touched her sister’s forehead. “Yup. Cool to the touch. Are you hungry?”
Gracie considered the question. “Starving. I don’t remember falling asleep. I don’t remember much of anything. Oh. The cake for the historical society.”
“Riley’s taking care of it. You called him. Remember?”
“Not really.” She had a few hazy images that were more dreamlike than anything else. “Whatever bug I picked up was strong, but short-lived. I think I’m okay now.”
“Why don’t you take it easy? I’ll go fix some soup and toast for you.” Alexis fingered the damp sheets. “Can you move to the sofa? You can lay down there and I’ll change these later.”
“You don’t have to do all that for me. It’s the weekend. What about Zeke? Shouldn’t you be with him?”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s working all day on Riley’s campaign then picking me up about six so I can go with him to see him do stand-up at a club in Ventura tonight.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Gracie sat up and tested her equilibrium. The walls and floor stayed exactly where they were supposed to. She felt tired and a little weak, but otherwise, fine.
Alexis helped her to her feet, then led her to the sofa in the living room. As she went to work in the kitchen, Gracie had the thought that she wouldn’t have expected her sister to come through for her like this. Which just went to show that she’d pretty much been wrong about every member of her family. Maybe in the future she should simply let them be and not try to predict or assign value judgments.
“What does Zeke have to do today for Riley?” she asked as Alexis puttered in the kitchen. “Are they still going door-to-door?”
“Not exactly.”
“Why not? The election is in a few days.”
There was a long silence, as if Alexis was considering what to say. The longer her sister was quiet, the more Gracie began to wonder what she didn’t know.
“Alexis,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Everything is great. Really.”
Uh-huh. As if Gracie would believe that high, tight voice. “You’re not a good liar. Tell me.”
Alexis appeared in the doorway. “Zeke wasn’t supposed to say anything to me. If Riley knew I knew, he would never have asked me to come over.”
Gracie’s stomach tightened and it had nothing to do with acid or lack of food. “What do you know?”
Her sister shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Just that Riley’s poll numbers are really down. They went up when everyone thought the two of you were together, but since the debate, they’ve been falling. The people in town are taking your side in this, which is really nice for you. But they hate Riley because, well, you know.”
Gracie didn’t know but she could guess. Because of those stupid newspaper stories, half the town felt as if they knew her. Now, all these years later, Riley was the bad guy for not falling in love with her and giving her what they thought was her happy ending.
Of course the irony of the situation was that she really was in love with Riley and she wanted to be with him, but that was her business, not theirs.
“Is he going to lose?” Gracie asked quietly.
Alexis nodded.
Ninety-seven million dollars gone because of her.
“I have to fix this,” she said.
“How?”
“I don’t know. I’ll go talk to him when he’s done delivering the cake and we’ll come up with something.”
“It’s going to take a miracle,” Alexis told her.
Gracie wished she had one of those in the corner of her suitcase. As she was fresh out, she would have to think of something else.
THERE WERE SEVERAL security guards on duty at the large house on the hill. Riley had never paid much attention to the historic value of some of the older homes in Los Lobos, but now as he walked up the wide front steps, he felt as if he were stepping back in history.
The Victorian mansion had been restored to its original fussiness. Rockers and tables were scattered across the long front porch. Flowers decorated the pillars.
“Can I help you?” a rent-a-cop said from his position by the front door.
“I’m delivering the cake for the fund-raiser tonight,” Riley said, motioning to the large box in his arms. “There are four more of these in my car.”
“Sure thing. Go on up. Then drive around back and use the rear entrance. It’ll be closer for you.”
“Thanks.” Riley jerked his head to the three guards by the driveway and the two security vans set up by the fence. “Why all the firepower?”
“A lot of items are on loan,” the guard told him. “Apparently they’re worth so much, the insurance company insisted.” He grinned. “So don’t try anything.”
“Not me. I’m just the guy with the cake.”
Riley followed his directions to the main reception area in the ballroom on the second floor. As he walked into the huge open room, he saw the tables set up for the buffet, two bars and a lace covered table complete with several pink bakery boxes.
“What the hell?” he muttered as he walked closer.
He set down his box and looked at the others. It was a cake. One that looked amazingly similar to the one Gracie had baked. Nearly identical. The same basket weave on the side, the same flowers. Except, now that he looked more closely, he saw the weave was crooked and the individual pieces of it were poorly done and broken. The flowers looked as if they’d spent one too many nights out on the town.
Questions crowded his brain. Who had done this and why?
Riley moved his box to the edge of the table and crossed to the window overlooking the rear of his property. Just then a familiar Lexus sped down the driveway.
Pam! He swore long and loud, then reached for his cell. Gracie picked up on the first ring. “How you feeling?” he asked.
“Better. The fever’s gone. Alexis has fed me and I just had a shower. I think I’ll live.”
“Good to know. I have a situation here. I’m delivering the cake, but there’s already one here. I also just spotted Pam heading away from the scene of the crime.”
Gracie gasped. “Is that what she was doing with my cake pans? Making a cake for the benefit? But why? And how does it look?”
“Like crap. I don’t get it. What’s the point? This can’t be to get her business. No one will know she baked it.”
“No, but they’ll think I did. Taste it.”
“What?”
“Taste it. I have to know if it’s horrible.”
“Hold on.”
Riley eyed the pink boxes, then grabbed a fork from the pile by napkins and stuck it into the small layer cake close to him. He sucked in a breath, then took a bite.
“Jesus,” he said as he spat it out. “What’s wrong?”
“Salt instead of sugar. At least I think that’s it.” He grabbed a paper napkin and wiped off his tongue. The horrible flavor lingered.
“Riley, you have to get her cake out of there. She’s trying to make sure I can never recover from the scandal about my cakes. Get hers out and put mine in its place.”
“Will do.”
“Can you call me when you’re done? I have something I’d like to talk to you about.”
Normally those were words to make him head out to sea, but not this time. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just want to talk about the election.”
Damn. “What do you know?”
“That you’re in trouble.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“How?”
He eyed the table. “Look, I need to get the cakes changed. I’ll call you when I’m done, then come by. Fair enough?”
“That’s great. Thanks.”
He clicked off his cell phone and dropped it into his pocket. Then he collected two of the small boxes from Pam’s cake and carried them back to his car.
It took him three more trips to get Gracie’s cake inside. He set it up as best he could and was leaving with the largest layer of Pam’s cake when a guard met him at the top of the stairs.
“Not so fast,” the burly man said. “What have you got there?”
“A cake. Two were delivered by mistake.”
The other man didn’t look convinced. “We just got a call that someone would try to trade out the cakes as a joke. Something about the election and one of the candidates wanting to make a fuss.” His eyes narrowed. “Funny how you just happen to look like that guy running for mayor.”
Riley couldn’t believe it. Pam had sure as hell covered her bases on this one.
“This isn’t what you think,” Riley said as he tried to inch his way around the guard. “The new cake is in place and it’s delicious. Take a bite of it if you don’t believe me. This is the bad cake.” He held out the box in his hands. “Big mistake to eat this one.”
“You just hold it right there. I’m going to have to call this in.” The guard reached for his walkie-talkie and pushed a button.
Riley tried to judge the distance to the front door and wondered if he could make a run for it. When he heard the guy on the other end of the conversation say “Hold him,” he knew he didn’t have a choice.
He started down the stairs, noticing too late that someone was coming up the stairs-a big guy carrying a case of wine. Riley went left, the guy went right. They ended up on the same step and tried to avoid the crash.
It happened anyway. The impact knocked Riley off his feet. He grabbed for the railing, slipped and reached for it again. The cake went flying. The other guy lost control of the box of wine. Riley and the other man fell at the same time, bouncing down the stairs in a tangle of arms and legs.
When they hit the ground, they landed onto wine-soaked cake and a floor full of glass.
Every part of him hurt. Riley knew this couldn’t be good, an opinion that was confirmed when he heard sirens in the distance and getting closer.