Fatal Facade Read online

  Allison caught the inn manager’s eye and motioned for the check. He brought it to her and left just as quickly with her credit card.

  “Tell me something happy,” Allison said to Vaughn. “Something unrelated to all of this.”

  “How about something business-related?”

  “A new engagement?”

  Vaughn crossed muscular arms over a well-defined chest. “You could say that.”

  His tone said it was a lot more work. After a close call with a killer just months before, Allison had refocused on her image consulting firm, First Impressions. She was thrilled to see her client book grow, and she’d just gotten a lucrative advance for a third how-to book, A Brand New You. But finding time to write the book was another story.

  Vaughn said, “You received an interesting request on Thursday. I put it off because you were dealing with your mom. We can talk about it another time if you’d prefer.” He peered at her over his glasses. “It’s an unusual one. Big.”

  She thought of the book. “I don’t think I can take a big one now. My agent and editor will kill me.”

  Vaughn pressed his lips together in a sly smile. “What if this one allowed you to kill a couple of proverbial birds?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Elle Rose. Recognize the name?”

  Allison did, and she said as much. “A socialite known for her tumultuous marriages and wild behavior. One of those National Inquirer people who is famous for no good reason at all.”

  Vaughn nodded. “Daughter of former rock star Sam Norton and his actress girlfriend, Fawn Langley. Elle was the host of a music TV show—Banging the Stars, or something like that.”

  Allison smiled at his attempt at humor. She considered the name and what she remembered. A few bit movie parts, an attempt at modeling, and a short gig on a reality television show. “I haven’t heard a thing about Elle Rose in years.”

  “And that’s why she’s calling.”

  The manager came back with the check and credit card. Allison wrote in a sizable tip, signed the form, and handed it back to him. When he left, she said, “So Elle Rose wants to reinvent herself?”

  “She wants to be relevant again.”

  “If that’s even possible. I don’t know that she was ever relevant in the Hollywood sense.”

  “Here’s to hoping.”

  Allison paused. “Why me?”

  “Delvar recommended you.”

  Delvar, a now-famous clothing designer, had been Allison’s mentee. Allison sat on the board of his charity, Designs for the Future, a nonprofit intended to give impoverished designer hopefuls—like Delvar had once been—a chance. Allison scanned the dining room, looking for Jason. She spotted him by the far window talking with Angela. He must have felt the heft of her stare because he turned back toward her and smiled. She returned the smile.

  “Now isn’t the best time for me to take on someone like Elle.” Allison touched her abdomen lightly, feeling flesh through layers of black silk. Was she just being wishful? Perhaps, but added stress wouldn’t help anything—one way or another.

  Vaughn, now also watching Jason and Angela, nodded. “Here’s the thing that could work for you. Elle lives in Bidero, a small village in northern Italy in the Dolomite Mountains.” His head turned and he held Allison’s gaze. “She wants you to come there.”

  Allison let out a low-pitch laugh. “And how is that workable?”

  Vaughn shrugged. “Think about it. With only one client and all those natural surroundings, you could bang out your book in weeks.”

  “What about my other clients? Even more importantly, what about Grace? We’re just getting closer as a family.” Grace was Allison’s five-year-old niece. Grace’s mother, Allison’s sister Amy, who’d been fighting a battle with drugs for nearly half her life, was on the lam. Allison had temporary custody of Grace, and she didn’t want to leave her behind when the child was just starting to trust again.

  Vaughn leaned down and touched the top of Allison’s blonde head with his lips, ever so lightly. “Take her with you. The freedom and perspective could do you both good.”

  “I doubt her agency will let her go.”

  “You’ll never know if you don’t ask.”

  Allison studied her friend. “Something tells me you’ve already done some research on the topic.”

  Vaughn smiled. Allison loved his smile. “I may have.”

  “You’re something. You know that?”

  Vaughn waved away her affection. “Just think about it, Allison. Fresh air. History. Some time for you and Grace alone. An interesting client. This could be just what the doctor ordered.”

  THREE

  The bathroom tiles were cold against her bare feet. Allison stood with her back to the closed door, staring at the small stick in her hand. She willed a second pink line to fill a tiny rectangle, but the white void remained. She could hear Jason changing through the door and squared her shoulders. It’d been a long day, but she’d just confirmed the thing she suspected—six days late didn’t amount to pregnancy. Perimenopause, maybe—at thirty-four, it was possible—but clearly not a baby.

  And what had the doctor told her? Her parts were in order. There was nothing medically wrong preventing conception. “Patience,” she’d said. Ugh—patience.

  A sharp knock on the door startled her.

  “Hold on.” Allison wrapped the stick in tissues and tossed it in the wastebasket. “Come in.”

  Jason stood in the doorway, his tall, lean form filling the space. He wore plaid pajama bottoms and no shirt. The hairs covering a firm, broad chest were sprinkled with gray—reminding Allison that neither of them was getting any younger. A wave of love hit Allison like a tsunami, due as much to Jason’s vulnerability as his strength.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  He held his phone toward her. “Read.” His voice was flat.

  It only took Allison a moment to understand what she was looking at. It was the offer package from Linear, an Austrian-based company that had been trying to recruit her attorney fiancé for more than three months.

  Allison looked at him questioningly.

  “Almost ten percent more than the number I told them. And that was twenty percent higher than what I expected.”

  “That’s awesome.” Allison forced a smile. “Congratulations.”

  “I’m going to accept.”

  “Err…okay.”

  “You’re alright with that?”

  “I want you to be happy.”

  “The position is here, in Philly,” he said, answering a question she’d thought of but not yet asked. “But there is some travel. Mostly to Innsbruck.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  Jason nodded. His neck strained to see beyond her into the bathroom. “Well?”

  Allison kept her expression blank.

  “The test. I figured that’s what you were doing in here.” He shrugged. “I saw the kit in the cabinet.”

  There was an odd edge to his voice that caused Allison’s muscles to tense. “I’m sorry.” She regretted the words immediately. Jason hated anything that smelled of pity. “Next time, maybe. At our age it can take months. And then when you least expect it—”

  “There won’t be a next time.” He stared her down, the edge turning to anger. “It’s me.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Actually, I do.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I had tests done too.”

  “But you said you weren’t going to do that, not yet.” Her voice louder, she said, “Why would you go alone? Without telling me?”

  “Shh, you’ll wake up Grace.”

  Allison’s niece was asleep in the next room. Allison swallowed, adjusting her temper. This wasn’t about what Jason had or hadn’t told her. This was ab
out something much bigger.

  “Why?” Allison said, more softly this time. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  When Jason didn’t respond, Allison walked out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, and sat down on the bed, suddenly too tired to argue—or be angry. Could the two of them make a baby? She’d been resistant for so long, and now, it seemed, it was all she could think about. But as Amy had demonstrated with Grace, making the baby was usually the easy part. And yet they seemed incapable of even that.

  She asked, “What did the doctor tell you?”

  Jason sat down next to her. Despite a clean shave before the morning’s funeral services, a bristle of beard shadowed his chin. He looked distant and handsome and angry and bitter all at once. Allison felt her insides twist. Jason had been her husband for five years during a tumultuous time in their lives. Their marriage hadn’t survived Jason’s sister’s untimely death or Allison’s success. They’d reconnected over the last two years. Or maybe they never really severed their bond. Allison loved him, but at times like this, she worried that the demons that had haunted their union would continue to plague their relationship.

  Jason spoke matter-of-factly. “I’m the reason we aren’t conceiving.”

  “I thought you wanted to wait before seeing a doctor.”

  “I needed to know for sure.”

  Allison nodded. Outside, more rain pelted the window. She glanced at the dresser, at the row of framed photos that lined its cherry wood top, then reached out to touch Jason’s face. He flinched.

  “Are there treatments?”

  “The doctor said they probably won’t work in my case. Our best bet is to use another man’s sperm.”

  Allison mulled over her next words. She settled on, “Is that something you want to do?”

  “I don’t know what I want to do.”

  Allison tried to interpret the feelings beneath the sharp edges of his words. Despite their years together, often Jason still seemed like an enigma.

  He said, “Let’s just go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  Allison shut off the bedside lamp and lay down, waiting for him to climb in next to her and wrap his arms around her, like he always did. He got under the covers but rolled in the opposite direction, facing the wall.

  In the safety of the dark, Allison stroked his back, ignoring the muscles that stiffened under her touch. “None of this matters to me, Jason. I love you. We’re a family. That won’t change.”

  He didn’t respond, but the shudder of his body told her all she needed to know.

  Allison awoke at ten after nine on Sunday morning. Despite the late hour, she felt stiff and groggy. She rolled over to find Grace in her bed, breathing softly. The little girl had one thumb tucked in her mouth and her arm around a loudly snoring Brutus, their Boxer. Simon the cat perched on the dresser and looked disdainfully down at his family, clearly above all this sentimentality. Jason was gone.

  The day outside shown bright with the promise of blue spring skies and fair weather. Allison thought of the conversation she’d had the night before, of her mother’s death and the blank window on the pregnancy test. She slipped out of bed and pulled a robe over her cotton nightgown. After glancing in the mirror, she yanked her hair into a ponytail and stretched, arms over her head. With one last glance at the sleeping dog and child, she headed downstairs. Only the cat followed her.

  Jason wasn’t in the kitchen—or anywhere in the house. His briefcase and phone were gone. She found a note. He’d headed into the office. To write his resignation letter.

  He’d leave for orientation in Austria in three weeks.

  Allison made a call.

  “Tell me more about Elle Rose’s proposal.”

  Vaughn filled her in on all the basic details. After a series of bad career moves, Elle had moved to the Castle San Pietro with her husband, Damien. She’d lost her husband in a tragic accident a few months before, and now she wanted a fresh start. She needed a new image, a new brand, and she’d pay handsomely. Allison could stay in a guesthouse on the property, which was a cottage on the grounds of the castle nestled in the Italian Dolomite Mountains. The only stipulation was that Allison must be on call for Elle when she needed her—and she must complete the assignment. Otherwise, Allison’s time was her own.

  “Sounds too good to be true,” Allison said when she heard the payment Elle was offering.

  “Maybe, but her father is very well off. I imagine he’s the one footing the bill.”

  Allison considered this. A spoiled socialite with too much money and nothing to do did not sound like an optimal client. But she’d looked at a map, and she knew that Bidero was in South Tyrol, close to the Austrian border. Very close to Innsbruck, where Jason’s new company was headquartered.

  Vaughn interrupted her thoughts. “You’re seriously considering this?”

  Allison told him about Jason’s newest offer, leaving out the results of the fertility tests and her fiancé’s false bravado. “What do you think?”

  “I think this job will be a good break.” He paused, and Allison could almost hear his gears turning. “You could get married there. You’ve been waiting for the right time. Why not make it the right time?”

  Allison closed her eyes, mulling over Vaughn’s idea. They could, indeed, get married there. It would be simpler. No crowds, no fuss. “What were you thinking?”

  Vaughn didn’t hesitate. “Go to Europe with Jason. Scope out the place, make arrangements for the wedding. Then we’ll fly over and join you.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Of course.”

  “What about my appointments here?”

  “You wouldn’t leave for a few weeks. Meet with each of your clients, explain about your book, offer a couple of free sessions when you return.” Vaughn cleared his throat. “You don’t have any major speaking engagements coming up. There’s nothing we can’t reschedule or postpone.”

  “You’ve already checked.”

  “Of course.”

  Allison tried to reign in her building excitement. It could work—and it could be the break she and Jason needed. “There’s Grace to think about. Even if we can take her, does that make sense? Would a new culture be overwhelming?”

  “Just a thought, but maybe Faye could take her for a few days, then Mia could meet you in Italy with Grace.”

  Allison heard the pain in Vaughn’s voice at the mere mention of Mia. Mia had been the original owner of First Impressions and Allison’s mentor. She was also Jason’s mother and Vaughn’s former lover. Their breakup—Mia’s idea—had happened months ago, but Vaughn never mentioned it. He rarely mentioned Mia, for that matter. Allison imagined the pain was still overwhelming, whether Vaughn would admit it or not.

  “I don’t know. That’s a lot to ask.”

  “Then just bring Grace with you. I really think the time together will do you both some good. And Elle said it’s fine. She likes kids, and she has a trained nurse who can help watch Grace when you’re working.” He paused. “As long as your whereabouts are known and Amy doesn’t object, I don’t think it will be a problem with the agency.”

  Allison ran through the issue in her mind. Would the social services people or the courts let her niece travel overseas? Would Amy fight her on it? Unlikely—no one even knew where Amy was. Vaughn was probably right. “I’ll make some calls,” she said. “But what about Simon and Brutus?”

  “We’ll hire someone to watch your menagerie. Angela has a friend who is a professional pet sitter. She can stay at your house.”

  “You really have thought of everything.”

  “I really think you could use this time.”

  Allison smiled. They could do this. She glanced at her laptop, at the map of the world up on the screen. What was she so afraid of? With a deep sense of finality, she said, “If I can take Grace, I’ll go.”

 
“I’ll start making arrangements, although I won’t commit you yet. Let me know what you hear.”

  “Thanks, Vaughn,” Allison said.

  “For what?”

  “For being my friend.”

  Vaughn’s voice was rough with emotion when he next spoke. “Other than Jamie, you’re all I have.”

  FOUR

  The trip to Bidero via Milan was blessedly uneventful. Allison and Jason rented a car at the Milan airport and sped east out of the city, carefully navigating the country’s highways using their limited knowledge of Italian. West of Verona, they began their journey north toward the majestic Dolomite Mountains. The mountains’ pale peaks were just visible in the distance, looming sentries of a world very different than that of the Philadelphia Main Line.

  Conversation was limited as they wound their way up small mountain roads and through tiny villages reminiscent of an earlier, simpler time. In fact, the quaintness of the South Tirolean countryside contrasted sharply with the weary cosmopolitan bustle of Milan—so much so that Allison had trouble believing they were part of the same country.

  “Look at the architecture.” They were climbing toward the top of a mountainous road, and Allison pointed to a narrow stone church at the top of the long incline. Along the road were Swiss-style chalets, each adorned with window boxes overflowing with blood-red geraniums and ivy. “I feel like I’m in Switzerland.”

  “It’s the Austrian influence.” Jason’s eyes were on the road, but his jawline and shoulders, unyielding for most of the flight and early drive, remained tense. Grace was asleep in her booster seat in the back. Jason glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping child, then at Allison. “Most people in the region speak Italian and German. The food is different from the southern regions of the country too.”