E.C. Sheedy

Room 33: Excerpt

A Zebra romantic suspense.

Lana lifted her gaze from the gleam of the polished oak table, rested it on the serene ocean outside her window—and gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles showed bone-white through her pale skin.

She hadn’t expected him to be angry. Disappointed, maybe, but coming at her though the phone line was barely leashed rage. It made her stomach ache.

“That can’t be right,” he said, his words hard, tight with shock. “You misunderstood. Stephen would never do that.”

“But he did, David. I’ve just come from his lawyer. He told me that Stephen, except for this house, left everything—and there wasn’t much, really—to Joy.” She kept her tone level, her attention on the sun-kissed sea.

“Unbelievable!” A harsh breath hissed into her ear. “After all my plans—“ He stopped. “And why in God’s name would he pick Joy? He knew you two didn’t get along. You haven’t seen her in—how long has it been?”

“Four, maybe five years. I really can’t remember. I assume she’s busy with whatever it is she does. Some kind of writing.”

David snorted, apparently unmoved by her limp defense of the daughter who stayed as far away from her as the planet allowed.

“And I have a letter for her. Stephen’s lawyer suggested I keep it sealed until she opens it. He says I’ll be pleased, because it says something about her taking care of me.” Lana wasn’t sure what that meant, but she already didn’t like it, because whatever the intent, it meant trouble. She walked across her expansive living room to the window and leaned her head against the glass. The unruffled ocean stretched below her, bright and glittery in the late morning. She envied its calm. “It’s all ridiculously complicated.”

“And the Hotel Philip,” David said. “That, too? You’re absolutely certain.”

“It’s hers.”

“Christ!”

Lana tamped down her mild impatience. “I know this affects our plans,” she said, reminding him that more than his interests were involved in their agreement. “But there’s nothing I can do until I talk to Joy.” Which she was not looking forward to. Her daughter was arrogant and difficult. David knew this. He should be more understanding of her concerns, less invested in his own.

“Do you think she’ll sell?” he asked.

“I can’t imagine why not. When I saw her last, she was traveling a lot and didn’t show any signs of wanting to settle anywhere. I doubt she’ll be interested in that queer old place. Why on earth would she?”

“I need that property, Lana. We had a deal.”

“I know, and I’d have sold it to you as we agreed, if Stephen hadn’t dropped whatever marbles he once possessed. You know that. God knows, it’s not as if I don’t need the money.”

Frustrated, she tugged at a loose thread on her cashmere sweater, was dismayed when it freed a string of red wool

A thousand dollar sweater, unraveling, exactly like her life.

Lana needed a new sweater. She needed lots of new things, and for the first time in years she worried about how to get them. Stephen had been generous, always gave her everything, and promised the rest. Then he’d died on her. Just days ago, but it seemed like forever.

She’d assumed there’d be money, lots of money, and she’d simply go on as before, but there was very little, and what there was, in a truly mind-boggling move, he’d left to Joy, the daughter who made no secret of the fact she thought her mother was calculating and selfish. And what was the other thing? Oh, yes. High maintenance—whatever that meant. If Lana had to depend on Joy for the milk of human kindness, she’d die of thirst. Thank God for David. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Their plan was simple. Lana would inherit the musty old Philip, sell it to David, and plump her sagging fortunes with a considerable deposit—ten million dollars. Now everything had changed.

“Lana, are you still there?” David asked.

“Yes, darling, I’m still here. But I need to rest a while. It’s been a stressful morning. Why don’t you come over, say, in an hour? We’ll have a drink, talk then.”

“Good idea. We need to talk.” His tone gentled. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll see to everything Do you have a copy of the will at the house?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then I’ll look it over when I get there. We’ll see what can be done.”

Lana pushed the OFF button on the remote phone, tossed the receiver on the blue damask chair beside the window. She quelled the tears behind her eyes but could do nothing to calm the simmering turmoil in her mind.

She didn’t need David to confirm that nothing could be done. According to his lawyer, Stephen made certain the will would stand “any and all scrutiny.” But no matter how many times she turned it over in her head, she couldn’t understand why Stephen—who loved her insanely had made her subject to Joy’s generosity, when Lana wasn’t at all sure Joy had any. At least toward her.

She picked up the phone, sat in the chair, and stared at the silver receiver in her hand.

She’d have to call Joy, of course. But not yet. First, she’d straighten herself up, freshen her makeup.

She didn’t intend to be red-eyed and puffy for David. She needed him, now more than ever. She went into her bathroom and soaked a facecloth in cold water. She draped it across her eyes for a moment, then blotted her heated face and neck.

When she again looked in the mirror, she tilted her head, touched the faint spray of lines at the corners of her wide blue eyes. She thought about the cosmetic vacation Stephen had promised her for her forty-ninth birthday. Her expression was wry when she said aloud, “Stephen dearest, if you’d truly loved me, you’d have had the courtesy to die after the damned surgery.” She stepped away from the mirror and, suddenly chilled, rubbed her upper arms. “And you’d never have forced Joy back into my life.”

She remembered what the lawyer said after their meeting. At the time it had confused her—now she understood completely.

Death changes everything—and then they read the will.