Page 57 of A Searing Acquaintance
“Hello, Lizzy. Who is that behind you?”
Cripes.Why is he still out here, not hiding like Charles and Herb?“Um, that would be our host. The owner of the house, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Nice. Hello, Fitzwilliam! My, that is quite a mouthful!” Tickled by her joke, Sylvia began giggling. “Oh, look at that pool. And the beach!”
Elizabeth quickly moved the camera back to her own face. “Here, I’ll show you the house and find Jane so you can talk about the song you’re going to sing at the wedding.”
“You know, I think it’s definitely going to be one of Dolly Parton’s songs.” Sylvia began singing. Elizabeth clicked off the sound as she neared the door.Holy Mother of God, save me from this mortification.
“Here’s the kitchen,” she said after turning the sound back on. She waved the camera in front of her. “And here’s the sunroom and the library and…there’s Jane!”
Her sister was in the foyer kissing Charles. Elizabeth framed the shot and headed for them, giving her mother a show of the couple’s eternal love. “Here you go, Jane. Bye, Sylvia.”
She escaped to the media room, seeking the distraction of television or music to erase the past ten minutes from her memory. Herb was sprawled on the couch, half asleep, watching ESPN. Elizabeth leaned in the doorway, staring blankly at the screen and wishing she had a mother who’d found her career dreams in real estate or banking or hairdressing.
What triggered her mid-life obsession with becoming a country-western singer?Elizabeth worried that she might have inherited some weird gene that would flare up in middle age and send her on some crazy inner-peace journey to hike across the country or give up cheese. Once again, she wondered how her parents’ ill-fated marriage had ever begun. A man who loved the classics and a woman who loved Hank Williams were not a match made to last, especially when their wedding was a last-minute affair to cover up an unexpected pregnancy.
Of course, they got along better after they’d both remarried—twice more for Sylvia if you count both times she married Ray LaRue.Elizabeth cringed.Maybe I have her commitment-phobic genes too.
Her inner musings were cut off when the sports channel’s breaking news logo caught her attention. A huge drug-test cheating scandal had been unearthed, and details were beginning to leak out. Human growth hormones and performance enhancement drugs from a lab in Atlanta had been illegally dispensed at a New Jersey clinic. She squinted at the screen, trying to read the name of the clinic.Oh. That’s weird, she thought, recognizing it was the place where some of theathletes in her book went for physical therapy.I wonder if they know any of the culprits.
Wanting to hear the news more clearly, Elizabeth looked around fruitlessly for the remote control. She moved closer to the screen and listened to the announcer detailing the depth and breadth of the scandal. College athletes, professional baseball and basketball players, even some Olympians were suspected. She sank into a chair. The volume slowly rose, and she looked up to see Darcy holding the remote and watching her. He looked puzzled.
She turned back to the screen where four headshots were displayed.Oh no. Stefan.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Elizabeth forgot she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t until Darcy sat down across from her and gently asked whether he could get her a drink, or a sweater, or her sister that she realized he’d been there the entire time.
He turned off the television. The only noise in the room was from her panicked breathing and Hurst’s deep snores. Unable to meet Darcy’s eyes, she looked down and saw his fingers reaching for hers. After she declined his offers of assistance, his hand fell away, and she heard him clear his throat. Finally, she took a breath and looked up at him. He was so near, his eyes full of concern. He pressed a handkerchief into her hand.
“Please, tell me what’s going on.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
“You’re in tears in my house.” He gestured at the television. “And I know Stefan was your friend and he’s in trouble…”
After a few moments of silence, understanding dawned in Darcy’s eyes. “Your sports book,” he said simply. “He’s in it.”
She nodded and, in a dull voice, replied, “He’s not the only one. There’s another one, the skater.”
“And…they used banned substances while competing?”
“Yes. Apparently. Allegedly.” She desperately wanted him to go away. She wanted to be alone. She needed to go to her room, pack her bag, and head back to the city. She needed to check in with Mr. Philips and ruin his holiday weekend.
Oh my God. We’re scheduled at the printer in a month. The marketing campaign is ready to roll.
“I have to call my boss,” she mumbled.
“How can I help?”
“You can’t do anything. I screwed up. I should have known, should have asked better questions.”
“Elizabeth, I can listen. Talk to me.”
The gentle calm in his voice washed over her, and suddenly Elizabeth knew that having the ear of a highly intelligent, well-traveled man who happened to like sports and knew his way around a corporate boardroom might not be a bad idea—especially when he looked at her with such dark, sympathetic eyes. Jane and Charles cared, she knew that, but this was their weekend, and she didn’t want to dampen their joyful enthusiasm. Darcy wouldn’t make light of her situation as her father would. Oh, how he’d skewer her. She might have once been the daughter most like her father but no longer. Lydia, his stepdaughter, shared his sarcastic spirit and humor. Elizabeth did not. Her eyes misted again.No. I will not cry.
Instead, she took a deep breath and told Darcy about the book and how the idea of asking sports heroes about the people who’d first inspired them was a huge deal for the marketing firm. It was a way to get a foothold in the larger A-list world of sports marketing, and half the profits were earmarked for charity. The project had been entrusted to her, but she’d failed by overlooking a major flaw in the “heroes.” If the allegations were true, they had used illegal substances to improve their competitive edge. Their achievements—their records and their medals—were hollow ones.
