The Last of the Stanfields(69)

May was sitting on the bed in a bathrobe, trails of mascara running down her cheeks and a newspaper in her lap. “I trusted you. My God, did I trust you. How could you do this to me?” she moaned, her voice a mix of disbelief and sadness.

Sally-Anne’s mind was racing. She was convinced that May must have discovered the loan rejection and the far reach of her mother’s power. She had kept the bank’s decision a secret, not out of pride or a desire to deceive, but because she needed to publish the Independent as an act of vengeance. It was now time to tell her team that the first issue would also be the last, and that every one of them was officially out of work. Blindsiding her employees certainly wasn’t fair, but the rage burning deep in the pit of her stomach made it easy to overlook such things.

“So, you thought breaking all our dishes was going to make things better?”

“I was trying to calm down. It didn’t work.”

“Was it Edward? Was he the one who told you?”

“Oh, no. Your piece-of-shit brother is far too cowardly for that.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” replied Sally-Anne, sitting down on the edge of the bed. May’s T-shirt showed off her curves, and Sally-Anne suddenly felt desire welling up within her, perhaps intensified by all the tension in the air.

“How could you not tell me?” said May.

“I was trying to protect you.”

“To protect me . . . from the humiliation, or just so you could say ‘I told you so’? Don’t tell me that you’re vain enough to be that cruel. You’re supposed to hate him, so why in the world would you choose to protect him and let me get screwed over?”

Suddenly unsure, Sally-Anne slid the issue of the Baltimore Sun from May’s lap and laid her hand down softly on her knee.

“Can you just explain what you’re talking about?”

“Enough! Enough lying,” May sighed. “Haven’t all your lies made enough of a mess already? Don’t treat me like a fool.”

“You want the truth? We barely have enough money to pay for the paper to go to print. We won’t make rent, let alone pay all the wages we owe. I didn’t tell you because knowing how honest you are, you never would have let me print the first issue. You would have let everyone go. And you seemed so happy frolicking around with my bastard of a brother, I didn’t want to spoil it for you, as crazy as the whole thing has driven me. It was wrong. But I’m begging you to stick with me and see this venture through. We go to print with the first issue, and if you never find it in your heart to forgive me, so be it. We go our separate ways.”

May straightened up in bed, her eyes haggard. “Now . . . it’s my turn to ask what you’re talking about.”

The two women looked at each other, angry and confused. Sally-Anne took the first leap.

“I’m talking about my mother’s dirty trick, her latest and greatest work: seeing to it that our loan was rejected. What else would I be talking about? We’re up to our ears in debt. She wiped her hands of me with a silly little check that doesn’t begin to cover our debts. See? We actually needed those dishes. We don’t have a cent for new ones. That’s all. That’s the only secret I was keeping.”

May reached past Sally-Anne to grab the copy of the newspaper from the foot of the bed. She held it out, stabbing a finger at the offending text.

At the end of the month, a masquerade ball will be held at the home of Mr. Robert Stanfield and his wife, Hanna, in honor of their son Edward’s engagement to Miss Jennifer Zimmer, daughter of Fitzgerald and Carol Zimmer, and heiress to the bank that bears their name.

“I didn’t know! I haven’t even been invited,” Sally-Anne whispered. “They’ve cut me out of my own brother’s engagement party. And, my God, you had to find out about this through the paper?” She sighed, defeated.

She moved in closer and put her arms around May. “I swear on my life: I had no idea.”

May let Sally-Anne rock her softly, their faces cheek to cheek.

“He used me and threw me away . . . like some kind of whore,” May sobbed.

Sally-Anne hugged her closer. “It’s as though I don’t exist to them . . . like I’m something to be ashamed of. It’s so humiliating. I can’t even say which of us got it worse.”

May rose and led Sally-Anne to the door of their room, the glow of the candles still reflecting off the porcelain debris.

“I was cooking a special dinner for your brother. I tried calling him three times. Your butler kindly informed me that Mr. Edward was in a meeting, but would relay my message to him. So, I sat reading the paper while I waited for his call. And that’s how I found out he wouldn’t be coming. Can you imagine anything so cruel? The only thing worse than the lie is how much of a coward he was. To think that he took me to his island and swore up and down that he loved me. He played me for a fool. I’ve been a fool. But, I’m begging you, don’t say ‘I told you so.’”

“It’s even worse than you think, worse than him just being a coward. The whole thing was a plot that my mother and Edward hatched together. While my brother drove a wedge between us, my mother sharpened her knives and stabbed me in the back, and you in the heart.”

A silence fell over the space, as though the awful reach of Hanna Stanfield’s power had extended all the way into the apartment.