Sunset Island - Sunset Secrets Part 13

"You take it correctly." Sam sighed and gave her Mend a mournful look. "In more ways than one. But Boss-woman Cresswell here kept herding me along every time things started to look promising."

"You are so full of it, Sam!" Emma laughed. "I should have fed you to Tiger!"

"Tiger?" Carrie asked.

"I'd rather you'd have fed me to Ranger Ted!"

Sam shot back with wide-eyed innocence.

"Ranger Ted?" Carrie echoed.

Sam and Emma started to argue playfully about their exploits on the road. "Gosh," said Carrie, "and I thought I was having fun with midterms!"

Finally the conversation turned to the future and Sunset Island, and Carrie filled her friends in on the fire at the Play Cafe and the benefit scheduled for their first night on the island.

"I might mention, Sam, that a certain Tennessee boy will be looking for you there," Carrie teased.

"Yeah, yeah," said Sam breezily. In fact, she was looking forward to seeing Pres again, though she was surprised at how often she'd thought of Danny this week. Not in fantasies, like the Ranger Ted thing. It was like she'd been sending Danny mental postcards-she felt like he'd al- most been along for the trip.

Carrie and Emma were both relieved when lunch ended without further mention of boy- friends. Carrie hadn't sorted out her feelings from that last terrible scene with Josh, and didn't want to talk about him or Billy either just yet.

Emma knew that her friends would be watching to see what happened with Kurt, and found herself almost dreading it. He had hurt her so badly last summer, and right now she didn't feel very strong. What if she got to Sunset Island and Kurt didn't really want her back after all?

As they finished lunch and headed for the car, each of the girls was thinking ahead to the upcoming evening in Boston.

Thank G.o.d'my mother won't be around, thought Emma. I'll finally be able to have some real friends over. And I can get this stuff about Kurt off my chest. After all, these are my friends!

Once we're at Emma's, it'll be just like old times, Sam thought. We'll talk about real things.

I'll come clean about getting fired. Emma and Carrie will understand, because they really, truly are my friends. And I'll talk to Emma about all that wine she's been drinking.

Carrie, who'd run back in for a last stop in the bathroom to purge herself of her lunch, now hurried to the car where her friends waited.

She wasn't thinking about intimate conversa- tions with her two best friends. She was thinking about how to keep her horrible secret from them, no matter what.

"Hey, look, Emma," said Carrie. "You've got lots of messages!"

The trio had just arrived at Emma's house, and amid the oohs and ahs of the tour, Carrie had discovered the calls indicator blinking rapidly on the answering machine. Her mother still main- tained Emma's separate line and machine al- though Emma had pointed out to her several times that she was hardly ever there.

Kuril thought Emma. She had called him from Aunt Liz's, but had gotten his answering ma- chine. She'd left him a message that they'd be arriving on the four o'clock ferry on Sat.u.r.day, and she'd hoped he might call to say he'd meet her. After hearing that Billy had called Carrie, and Pres had sent word (in a roundabout way) that he was looking for Sam, Emma needed to feel that someone was waiting eagerly for her, too.

She pressed the play b.u.t.ton.

"Emma, where are you?" It was her mother's voice. "The police have called here! Have you gotten yourself into some kind of trouble?"

The next message was also from her mother: "Emma, I had Lawrence call your apartment building today, and the building superintendent told him you've been gone for almost a week. I hope you're checking with at least one of your machines. Please call me immediately when you hear this!" She left a number where she was staying at Glen Echo.

"You didn't tell her about this trip?" Sam said to Emma incredulously.

"Of course I did! She didn't listen," Emma shot back.

"All right, Emma," went the next message, yet again from her mother, "I do seem to remember something about your leaving town. I'd still like to know how you ever got involved with the police. Call me." Was every one of these calls going to be from her mother?

Her mother again: "Emma, I finally reached your Aunt Liz, who said she just missed you in New York. Then the police called again to say you'd been found. Now that I know you're not lying dead somewhere, I'd like to know what this is all about."

Not for the first time in her life, Emma wished there were such a thing as a mind torpedo, something you could launch from your eyes to annihilate detestable objects. Right now her an- swering machine would be blown to smithereens.

Finally a male voice came over the speaker. It only took a second for a feeling of disappointment to hit Emma's stomach. It wasnt Kurt.

"Hi Emma, hi Sam, hi Carrie, it's Danny. I'm in Boston, at Kevin's. You have the number, Sam.

Give a call, okay?"

Carrie noticed that Emma looked glum as she reset the machine, but Sam's face had lit up in a happy grin.

"You haven't said much about Goofy," Carrie said to Sam. "What's the deal?"

"Danny's okay," Sam replied, a little surprised at how good his message had made her feel.

"He's also really considerate," Emma said with a sigh. Sam and Carrie knew what that sigh was about-Kurt hadn't called.

"Hey, Emma, is it okay if I use the phone?"

Sam asked. "I want to call Danny."

"Maybe you ought to call your mom first, Emma," Carrie suggested.

"Might as well get it over with," Emma grum- bled.

Carrie and Sam were kind enough to make themselves scarce, with the excuse of unpacking the car. In truth, they had already heard enough from Emma's mother for one day, and didn't want to hang around to watch Emma suffer through this call.

"Emma! Finally!" were Kat's first words.

"Mother, look, I'm sorry if I worried you-"

"Worried? Worried?" she screeched into the phone. "I've been frantic! Are you all right?"

"Really, I'm fine, Mother," Emma said in an even voice. "I've been fine all along. I guess the police business was just a little misunderstanding I had with Dad."

"Well, I'm sure it was his fault, darling," Kat decided, without bothering to ask what the mis- understanding was. "You've heard the news, I suppose. About your father?"

"Urn, I'm not sure . . ." Emma said carefully.

"He's trying to establish that I'm incompetent!"

Kat spat her words into the telephone. "He's alleging that your inheritance is at stake, and claiming that he's acting on your behalf! I am absolutely livid!"

"Mother," Emma said, "I a.s.sure you he is not acting on my behalf."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Kat said, her voice softening. "I knew it couldn't be true. After all, you and I are best friends!"

Just then the headache began, as usual right at her temples. Her first thought was of a gla.s.s of wine-cool, fragrant, tart on the tongue . . .

and the smooth feeling of softening around the edges that would accompany the taste . . .

"... so of course I insisted that you'd be happy to testify!" Kat finished triumphantly.

Emma's attention snapped back to the phone conversation. "I'm sorry, Mother. What did you say?"

"I said I told my lawyer that your father was most certainly not acting on your behalf, and that you'd be happy to testify to that effect. I'm counting on you, Emma. My lawyer says your testimony could be essential."

"But Mother-"

"I'm thinking of getting you a device for re- cording your father's phone calls," Kat continued.

"That way, we'll have concrete evidence if he tries anything."

Tears sprang to Emma's eyes, and she angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand. Was that all she was to her family? An inheritance for the lawyers to quibble over?

"Anyway, darling, we'll chat more about this later," Kat continued. "I'm really glad to know that you're fine."

"Sure, Mother," Emma said bitterly.

"Oh, my ma.s.seuse is just arriving," Kat said.

"Must run! By the way, you had a call before I left from those Sunset Island people, the Hewitts?

They're hoping you'll come back to work for them this summer, though I can't see why you'd want to do something like that again."

I'm sure you can't, thought Emma as she said a terse good-bye and hung up, thankful that the conversation with her mother was over.

By the time Sam and Carrie traipsed through the door with all their bags, Emma had a bottle of nice Beaujolais uncorked on the kitchen counter.

She had thought to let it breathe for a little while, but had changed her mind and already poured herself a gla.s.s.

"Call Danny," Emma said to Sam, sipping her wine. "I just decided we're having a party."

"Hot d.a.m.n!" Sam cried. "With food and guys and everything?"

"Everything!" Emma agreed.

"What time does it start?" Carrie asked as she carried a suitcase into a bedroom.

Emma took a long gulp of her wine. "How's right now sound?"

It was an hour and a half later when Sam, the first to be showered and dressed, leapt to answer Danny's knock at the door.

"Goofy!" Sam screamed, and cheerleader-jumped into Danny's arms. She covered his face with puppy-dog kisses.

"Down, girl, down!" Danny joked, but he clearly loved the way Sam was greeting him.

"It's sheer youthful exuberance," she a.s.sured him. "Don't take it personally."

Carrie had just entered the room and wit- nessed this greeting. "I have a feeling he wants to take it personally," she teased.

Whoops, better watch that stuff, Sam cautioned herself.

"So, come on in," she said with a broad gesture to include both Danny and the guy standing with him on the threshold.

"Sam, this is Kevin Logan," said Danny.

"Hi, Kevin," said Sam with a grin. She hoped that her smile made up for practically ignoring the guy when she'd first seen Danny. Kevin had a youngish, sweet-looking face, with dark eyes that danced with intelligence. He returned her smile with an easy charm.

"And I'm Carrie," Carrie said, introducing herself to Kevin. "Hey, Goof!" she added, giving Danny a hug.

"Please, I'm off duty," Danny said mock- seriously. "Don't call me that or my fans will mob me."

"Fortunately, we didn't invite any six-year-olds to this party," Sam laughed, "so you should be safe. I ordered lots of pizza, there's wine on the counter, beer and c.o.kes in the fridge. What's your poison?"

"A beer would be great," Kevin said, heading for the fridge.

Sam laughed. "I like a guy who makes himself at home."

"You want one, Danny?" Kevin asked with his head in the fridge.

"Sure," Danny agreed.

Kevin carried the beers into the living room and handed one to Danny. "This house is fantastic.

Which one of you does it belong to?"

"Actually, it belongs to bachelorette number three, who has yet to make her appearance," Sam quipped.

"She's got interesting taste," Kevin said, qui- etly looking over the living room.

He reminds me of someone, Carrie thought.

Who is it? Then she put her finger on it-her brother Matt! Kevin had the same intelligent, mischievous kind of eyes set in a baby face. Both were the sort of guy you felt comfortable with right away, maybe because they both seemed to be so comfortable with themselves.

Carrie and Kevin started a conversation, and Danny seemed to have eyes only for Sam. She looks extra hot tonight, Carrie noted. Sam was poured into her faded jeans, and braless under a black leotard top. She'd thrown an antique lace bed jacket over the leotard. On anyone else, the effect might be bizarre, but on Sam it looked s.e.xy and perfect.

Carrie sighed and looked down at her own black stretch pants and oversized houndstooth blazer. Coverups. Carrie couldn't in a million years imagine being thin enough and confident enough to, first, go without a bra, and second, wear a bed jacket to a party.

"So Danny told me you're at Yale," Kevin said to Carrie as he sipped his beer. "Is it as tough as I think it is?"

Carrie gave a shrug and laughed. "I'd like to impress you and tell you how incredibly difficult it is, but let's face it, I have no basis for comparison!"

It turned out that Kevin was a journalism major at Boston University, and with Carrie's tremendous interest in photojournalism, they quickly got involved in an intense conversation.