Chapter Twenty-Seven
I need a lawyer…and not just any lawyer…the best lawyer in town! Kendall paged frantically through her personal phone book trying to find Livia Cudahy's number. Livia, Derek Frye's sister, was one of the top attorneys not only in Pine Valley but in the entire State of Pennsylvania. She had ably represented Kendall before and Kendall mentally slapped herself for failing to contact Livia from the very beginning.
You have reached the law offices of Livia Frye Cudahy. We are now closed. Our office hours are from nine a.m. to five p.m. Monday through Friday. If you have an emergency situation please call….
Hanging up without writing down the emergency number, Kendall was surprised to find that the time was already after five p.m. Although she considered her situation with Miranda and the Laverys an emergency, she doubted that Livia would see it that. Nothing about it was going to change between now and the morning. The call could, and would have to, wait until then.
Rubbing her arms, Kendall wondered what to do with herself now. She had expected to spend a fulfilling evening with Miranda, in what would have been a learning process for them both. Now, the hours stretched emptily ahead. The new baby furniture stood unoccupied and unused, a mocking reminder that Ryan and Greenlee currently held all the cards. Or rather, that they held Miranda.
Thanks to me being such an idiot, they have possession of Miranda. Possession is supposed to be nine-tenths of the law—with them it's ten-tenths and it's gone to their heads. But Miranda is only Greenlee's first cousin, once removed at that. She's my niece. That's a lot closer than a cousin. And Bianca would want me to have her. Even Zach admitted it. The court's got to recognize it too.
Kendall took further stock. Yeah, and they'll probably recognize all the trouble you've been in in your life, too. Face it, Kendall, you're notorious. You were even charged with murder. They won't care why or that you were acquitted…that's now how things work. They'll just see that you're screwed up, and—how did Greenlee put it?—you can't provide stability. You're single, your only child care experience was being Petey Courtland's babysitter for a couple of weeks, and he was twelve years old. Speaking of jobs, depending on what happens with Cambias and how it affects Fusion you might not even have a job for long. Oh, and you live in a tiny one-bedroom condo. Yep, great parent material.
Greenlee and Ryan have been happily married for over a year and they have a huge apartment with a nursery. Greenlee got all A's in her baby classes and she doesn't need Fusion to support a kid. She's not only got Ryan, she's got a big, fat trust fund. No contest.
Oh, Bianca…please, please come home! Miranda belongs with you—not with me or with Greenlee! But if you can't…if you can't, please help me because I don't think I can swing this on my own.
Kendall felt this was her lowest moment since the Cambias jet had first been reported missing. One by one, it seemed, fate was taking away all the people who mattered most to her, whether through death, disappearance, or conflict, and she felt very alone. She briefly considered a temporary escape from all her problems, such as calling Simone to see if the other girl wanted to join her for a mindless night on the town, socializing with other people simply out for a good time, dancing and flirting and becoming well-lubricated by Cosmopolitans and White Russians….
That's all I need, all right, to get drunk in public. A disorderly conduct or a DUI would look great on my record right about now. Hanging out with Simone would absolutely do the trick. She's been arrested so many times she has a cell dedicated to her.
Sighing, Kendall gave up on the potentially disastrous idea and wandered aimlessly into her bedroom. I suppose I could always clean out a closet or something. Cleaning out closets had never been on any of Kendall's to-do lists so it was initially only a self-directed gibe. But this chore really did need doing and it wasn't something she could hire a consultant to take care of. Each time she opened the bedroom closet door to be met with the sight of Ethan's suits and shirts hanging forlornly inside, she felt reproached.
Between the gloomy effect of that vision on her and now that of Miranda's still-empty crib, Kendall was painfully aware of how vulnerable she was to self-destructing even by staying quietly at home. Nothing was stopping her from pouring her own White Russians like water and becoming rip-roaring drunk in private. And that wouldn't be good, either. Now more than ever she must stay on her game.
She went to the closet. Way in the back, pushed behind the row of Ethan's suits was his Pullman suitcase, the largest piece of his matched luggage set. Kendall hauled it over to her bed, lifted it to and spread it open over the mattress, then returned to the closet for the first suit to pack. Check jacket pockets, fold jacket neatly, place folded jacket in bottom of suitcase, do same with trousers…one suit down…six to go.
Traveling between closet and bed, Kendall methodically worked her way down the rack to the last suit. For the last time, she stuck her hand into an inner breast pocket, to rescue anything of value, sentimental or otherwise, before packing the jacket away. Her hand touched a piece of paper. Withdrawing it, Kendall expected to find some innocuous souvenir…a copy of the meeting schedule Ethan's personal assistant at Cambias provided him with each day, a forgotten sales receipt, maybe even a copy of an old email from her, sent before the heady atmosphere at the very top of Cambias had begun to get the better of Ethan. If he ever had a 'better,' she found herself involuntarily thinking.
Unfolded, the paper did appear to be the print-out of an email, but it wasn't an email from her to Ethan. The sheet apparently contained a series of emails crammed one after the other, beginning with the most recent, an email sent from an address she didn't recognize, dated several weeks back, in response to an email sent by Ethan, following below it. Below that exchange followed a prior exchange between him and the same person, extending to the bottom of the page.
With little more than the intent of determining if his correspondent was someone who might need to be notified about Ethan's fate, Kendall began reading. At first, she couldn't quite comprehend what she was reading—the emails' wording seemed like a bad joke—but the nausea rising from the pit of her stomach told her it wasn't.
From pyramidschemer2 yahoo. co. uk
To ethan. cambias cambias. com
Subject Re: Re: Re: an update
My precious devious darling Ethan forgive me for being so
impatient. I know it will be worth the wait. It's just that it's
been so long already. But as they say, good things come to
those who wait so I will expect good things when they do come.
I still have not heard from your lawyer so do let know when to
expect word from him. BTW funds are getting a big low again.
Love as always from me
From ethan. cambias cambias. com
To pyramidschemer2 yahoo. co. uk
Subject Re: Re: an update
I am sorry darling you know I would give almost anything
to just drop everything and rush to your side but I can't
leave PV just now. Things a bit sticky with Zach
(the old bastard) trying to make trouble for me I'm afraid
I must not take my eye off him too long at the moment
but have no doubt I will prevail in the end as I have thus
far then it will all be ours and no more nasty
complications. Keep the faith darling we'll be together
soon that I promise.
All my love Ethan
From pyramidschemer2 y ahoo. co. uk
To ethan.cambias cambias. com
Subject Re: an update
O Ethan each new day without you feels like a year. But the
funds transfer will help pass some time! ;) Is there any chance
of you coming to London to see me while I wait for your
immigration lawyers to work magic for me? I am trying to be
patient but missing you terribly. I'm even jealous of your
roommate even though Kendall sounds like a nice guy.
Love from me
From ethan. cambias cambias. com
To pyramidschemer2 yahoo. co. uk
Subject an update
Darling just a note to come up for air and say I love you and
miss you. As you already suspected I have been settling into
Cambias quite, quite successfully. Hope to get dyke
(and her brat) shipped off to Paris (pulling a few strings!)
so will have completely free rein soon. Still living with the
roommate but have got estate agent looking round for
more suitable digs for me (and you of course!). Have got t
legal dept. working on your immigration problem so
just be patient a little longer my darling.
"That fucking bastard," Kendall spat. "Literally! That goddamn fucking bastard."
So utterly stunned by Ethan's unforeseen duplicity that she was shaking, she seized the suitcase by the handle and, with strength lent by rage, flung the almost full piece of luggage off the bed. Its contents became airborne as it bounced off the crib and hit the floor.
"And I was so worried about him. So worried about Cambias corrupting his noble ideals. Oh my god, what a laugh!" Stomping into the kitchen, Kendall yanked a large trash bag off the roll beneath the sink and stomped back into the bedroom with it.
It was almost impossible to wrap her mind around Ethan being the author of these emails but the proof was there in black and white, straight from his own pocket, condemning him out of his own lying, dead mouth. "So he was two-timing me all along! His roommate? He told her I was his roommate?" Viciously, Kendall wadded a pair of trousers into a ball and stuffed it into the trash bag, wishing their former own was still in them, and still talking out loud to herself. "Oh, but why am I even assuming pyramidschemer2 is a she? For all I know Ethan played for both teams!"
Kendall kept wadding and stuffing until the suitcase was empty. She then added Ethan's shirts from the closet and his socks and underwear from her bureau, and dragged the loaded bag through the living room. Trash was picked up daily outside residents' doors. When the complex custodian came by for hers early the next morning, Kendall hoped that carrying the heavy bag full of extra-extra-long suits out to the dumpster didn't give him a hernia, too. But if it did she'd pay the medical bills. She knew it was a waste of more than perfectly good clothing, and she didn't care about that either. She needed to remove all evidence of Ethan while the adrenaline was still flowing through her system.
After that, well…if anything called for a drink, this did. As long as it was not Courvoisier XO. But even if she could have afforded to splurge on one small White Russian, she probably didn't have any Kahlua or vodka or cream anyway.
Preparing to give the bag the mightiest toss her slender arms were capable of achieving, Kendall let fly with it. She noted with satisfaction that she managed to land it halfway between her front door and the common wall between her condo and the next adjoining one. "Go to hell and stay there!" she screamed at it. "I only wish I could stuff Ryan and Greenlee in there to rot along with you!"
A long, low, whistle ensued close behind her from the other direction. Abruptly and embarrassingly aware that she'd had a witness to her tantrum, Kendall sheepishly turned around. Of course! Zach stood in front of his door, a leather satchel by his foot and his head cocked as if he found the scene interesting.
"What are you looking at?" she snapped.
"You," he said simply.
"Maybe I should sell tickets."
"I don't see Hefty Bag heaving making its mark as a field event, but you know what? If you were part of the field I'd pay to see it."
"Fuck you, Zach. Just fuck you." Kendall felt dangerously close to tears. Not again. Oh, no. Not again. She inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry. I haven't had a good day."
"Neither have I." Zach sounded very weary. "Mind telling me what's in the bag?"
"Ethan," Kendall said bluntly. "Or rather, all this things."
"What happened?"
"Nothing you need to concern yourself about. I just had a wake-up call, that's all. Better late than never, huh?"
"Kendall, we need to talk—"
"I'm not up for chatting about it. Not now anyway. And if you're just home from Las Vegas, you're probably not either."
Rubbing the back of his neck, Zach said, "Got it. And you're right. I'm not. We'll talk later. But I do want to know one thing. Why didn't you call me?"
"How could I, Zach? I didn't even know where you were until Greenlee mentioned a little while ago you were in Vegas."
Zack looked honestly puzzled. "That's odd. Kendall, I left you a note under your mat."
"I didn't get a note, Zach. What did it say?"
"Where I was going and why, and that we needed to talk. I certainly didn't discuss it with Greenlee."
A bad—or worse—feeling began to steal over Kendall. "It must have been intercepted and I'll deal with that later. Right now you'd better tell me why you went."
Zach sighed. "Kendall, I didn't just go to Vegas. I went to Denver too. You didn't ask what I had in my bag."
Kendall froze. "Zach, no. No. It's not…."
He looked at her with an almost apologetic expression on his face. "I'm afraid so, Kendall. It's Ethan."