Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [156]
“Nothin’.” The less said, the better.
“Are you going into the city? Is someone going to pick you up?” She smeared her lips together, spreading the maroon color, then dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her finger.
“Yeah, my mom’s gonna be there.”
“Good. Good.” She wasn’t really listening, and she twisted her lipstick back into the tube. Winking at Becca, she said, “Grandma’s got to look good, y’know. Don’t want to scare Baby Charlie right off the bat.”
She chuckled, and Becca managed a thin, barely-patient smile. The woman was completely out of it. Baby Charlie probably couldn’t care less if his grandmother resembled a gorilla, but rather than roll her eyes and tell the woman to get a life, Becca stared out the window as the plane eased into its position near the jetway. If this lady had any idea that Becca had lied to Aunt Connie, stolen from Jenny, then hitchhiked to the L.A. airport to save some money, the woman would probably fall into a dead faint. That would be too bad for Baby Charlie because from the looks of the packages stowed under the seat, the kid was gonna be outfitted with enough Beanie Babies to fill his nursery.
The plane rolled to a stop and Becca crossed her fingers that a cab to the Brass Tree hotel wouldn’t cost her more money than she had. If it did, well, she’d probably just have to stiff the driver. That thought settled like lead in her stomach, but she didn’t worry about it too much. She couldn’t. She had to connect with Mom before Aunt Connie found out she was gone and the “you know what” hit the fan.
I give, Maggie thought as she stared at the wrinkled pages she’d copied from Marquise’s diary that she’d found on the computer. Her plan of becoming her twin and walking through her life hadn’t helped her find her sister. All it had managed to do was make her aware of a darker side of Marquise, convince her that she hadn’t known her twin at all, and bring her closer to a man she should never trust, a man whom she was certain she still loved, a man she should still avoid.
And scare her to death. Ever since the report of Marquise’s Jeep being run off the road, Maggie had been more determined than ever to locate Marquise.
If only she could. She’d called Marquise’s housekeeper at the house in Aspen, dialed every friend and neighbor she could find in Marquise’s Rolodex and ended up with nothing for her efforts except a huge phone bill and an aching head.
Thane, too, had been on his cell phone most of the night, calling people in California about Renee Nielsen, connecting with Howard Bailey and Tom Yates about his ranches, and had finished by making a call to Carrie Edgars, who had left him a voice-mail message on his cell phone earlier.
Maggie didn’t eavesdrop, but the French doors separating his bedroom from the living area of the suite were open and she couldn’t help but hear snatches of the conversation.
“You knew how I felt…no, Carrie, that’s not the way it was or is…we talked about this last summer…okay in September…so it’s time for both of us…yes, you, too, to move on…of course. Hey, that’s just the way it is. Well, hope it works out…”
He hung up and she, seated on the couch, had watched him surreptitiously. Closing his eyes, he rotated his neck as if trying to crack his spine and relieve some tension.
His cell phone jangled loudly. Grumbling something under his breath, he answered tersely, as if he expected Carrie to be calling back.
“Walker.” A pause. His lips flattened over his teeth, and through the glass panels of the French doors, his gaze met Maggie’s. In a heartbeat she knew that something was wrong. Mary Theresa. The police have found her and wanted to break the news to Thane before talking with me.
Maggie’s heart plummeted. She was hot and cold all at once. Fear congealed her blood as she stood, the papers in her lap forgotten and fluttering to the floor.
“Where are you now?” Thane demanded as he walked into the living area and