Chapter 3
Chapter Three
A fter two long days and nights filled with arguments and tears and very little sleep, Lizzie slapped the alarm off, her eyes still closed against the too-bright sunlight. It had been two days since Della showed up on her doorstep. Two long, irritating days, during which she’d had to handle the last of the reunion event, the never-ending plumbing situation that seemed to escalate by the hour, and her sister’s drama. Day three had to be better, because she wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.
Lizzie turned on her side and suppressed the urge to hip check her sister out of bed. When Della had arrived late Friday, there weren’t any empty rooms to spare, and she hadn’t had the heart to send her to the Budget Inn down the street. Della had spent the first night in the guest bedroom of the Carriage House, Lizzie’s private residence behind the main house.
Then astonishingly early on Saturday morning, Della’s long-suffering manager, Jordanna Farrington, had arrived looking like a cool retro aunt in boots and leggings, with her long hair in braids and bright orange lipstick. It hadn’t surprised Lizzie that Jordanna followed Della. It had surprised her that Jordy hadn’t managed to jump into the car with Della.
Jordanna spent the entire day trying various persuasion tactics to convince Della to go back to work. By midnight, it was obvious Della wasn’t listening, and it was too late to send Jordanna to the Budget Inn, so now the woman was in Della’s former room, and Della was sharing Lizzie’s bed, and nothing had been sorted out.
Her quaint, peaceful stone cottage was now crowded and angsty. She loved her home because she stepped into a fairy tale every time she walked through the front door. It was so far removed from the dizzy business of her former life that it was hard to believe it had ever been real.
Now, the remnants of that life had landed right in the middle of her sanctuary. It was hard to get away from her past when it showed up and demanded attention.
Lizzie rolled out of bed and headed for the closet. “Della, wake up. Rise and shine.”
Della groaned and rolled away from her. “It’s too early.”
“We have to get to the inn. Cleanup starts at eight.”
“What time is it?” Della yawned.
“It’s time to get up. Breakfast is in thirty minutes.”
“I hate it when you do that.” Della peeked at the clock, groaned, and threw the blanket over her head. “It’s too freaking early, Lizzie. We only went to bed at what, two?”
“Work doesn’t stop just because we ignored bedtime.” Lizzie tugged fresh jeans and a flannel shirt out of the closet and grabbed fresh undies out of the dresser. “It’s Monday, and there’s a wedding next weekend. We have a lot of work to do. There are eleven guest rooms in the main house, and they all need to be cleaned, not to mention the main floor, plus we have to get the tent set up and chairs ready and—”
Della’s voice emerged from under the covers, muffled and annoyed. “Don’t you have people for all that?”
Lizzie suppressed the surge of frustration that thought generated. If the pipes hadn’t exploded, she would have hired her usual crew for all the setup work. “Usually, but it’s the end of the busy season and the budget is…I’m saving the money for something else.”
“So I’ll pay for it. As long as I get to sleep,” Della said.
“Your money is no good here.” Lizzie tapped the bundle of bedding that hid her sister from view. “Come on, get up and get moving. Rise and shine, shine, shine.”
“You’re really annoying, you know that?” Della peeked out from under the covers. “Why can’t I hire a crew to clean for you?”
Lizzie gave her sister the are-you-serious look she’d perfected as a teenager. “First, because we aren’t in a city where there are armies of cleaning crews just dying to come do your chores for you. And second, I don’t want your money. We’re shorthanded right now and what I really want is your help.” She also had no intention of letting Della have the emotional power that would go along with using her fame and money to solve Lizzie’s problems.
Della rolled her eyes.
“Besides, you’ve been saying for two days that you don’t want to be you anymore. Well, here’s your chance to be someone completely different. You get to be the girl who cleans the rooms.”
Della flung herself back on the bed. “I can’t believe you’re serious about this.”
“Ticktock, little sis. If you don’t hurry up, you’ll miss breakfast. I’d hate to send you to work on an empty stomach.” Lizzie dangled a T-shirt over her sister’s head.
Della snatched the shirt out of her hands and glowered at her. “Fine. But I want pancakes.”
“Deal,” Lizzie said. “I’ll get Jordanna up. Pancakes in twenty.”
Lizzie grabbed her phone and hurried downstairs. They were already behind schedule, and she needed to check in with the rest of her family. Piper and Mattie might still be mad at Della, but there was love under the grudge, and they’d want to know the latest news.
She checked the time. It was eight thirty in New York, making it five thirty in Los Angeles. It was way too early to call Piper. She refused to answer the phone before ten, but Mattie was a morning bird, and she kept odd hours most of the time. She activated a video call with Mattie and waited.
Three rings later, Mattie’s face appeared on the screen. Her sister seemed to be mostly awake and lounging on the rooftop deck of her townhome in Los Angeles. It was still well before sunrise, and the glow of a nearby streetlamp made her look haunted. “Hey, Lizzie. What’s wrong?”
Lizzie blinked. “Why does something have to be wrong?”
Mattie gave her a patient look. “Because you hate seeing the sun rise. What happened?”
Lizzie shook her head. “You know me too well.”
“You’re my sister.” Mattie peered at her over the rim of the mug. “So what’s up?”
Lizzie took a closer look at the dark circles under Mattie’s eyes and the downward turn to her shoulders and hesitated. “Why aren’t you sleeping? I thought you were wrapping up that project with what’s-his-name.”
Mattie took a sip of whatever was in the mug. “Devon Morales. We wrapped last week, but he’s a bit clingy. Last night was a bit, um, rough. Anyway, doesn’t matter. Tell me what happened. It must be serious for you to avoid talking about it like this.”
“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. We’re talking about this later.” Lizzie gave her patented you-can’t-avoid-me stare. “But actually, I don’t have long right now. I just wanted to fill you in on a new development. Della’s here. She skipped out on her tour.”
Mattie lowered the mug and leaned forward, looking concerned. “She’s at the inn? What do you mean skipped out?”
“I mean she wants to quit. She said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want to be me anymore.’”
Mattie frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lizzie shrugged. “No idea. It’s been two days, and I don’t know any more than that. She’s here with me in upstate New York, cleaning toilets.”
“Cleaning toilets? Della? Oh, wow. That’s mean.” Mattie giggled and put her hand over her mouth.
Lizzie grinned and shrugged. “She wanted to be someone else so I’ve turned her into a maid. I thought maybe if she saw how real people live she might reconsider and go back to the tour.”
“Is it working?” Mattie’s eyes danced with amusement.
“Not so far, no. Got any ideas why she ran away?”
Mattie bit her lip, then shook her head. “No. Last time we talked was my birthday, and that was only for five minutes, if that. She’d been nominated for that favorite artist something-or-other award and seemed really happy about it.”
The sound of Della rising and shining upstairs made Lizzie hurry up the conversation. “I have to get moving. If you think of any reason why she’d be doing this, let me know? ”
Mattie nodded. “Sure.”
“Whatever’s going on with you, I’m here if you need me, okay?”
“I know. Don’t worry, if I need help you’re my first phone call.” Mattie raised the mug in salute. “Call me later?”
Lizzie frowned, torn between the needy sister upstairs, the one on the phone who clearly had something going on, and the need to get to work before the rest of her world imploded.
The inn won.
“Be good, Mattie Cake.”
“Always.” Mattie ended the call.
Lizzie got to work putting breakfast together for her unexpected houseguests.
Forty-five minutes later, Della and Jordy had managed to get dressed and appear at the small round table in the little nook off the kitchen that Lizzie called the rotunda. A cushioned bench hugged the wall in the cozy round space, and the high ceiling and windows let in the morning sun. It was one of her favorite places to linger over coffee or tea when she had the chance, and a haven that let her organize her thoughts and chores for the day.
Now, it was filled with two women arguing over their pancakes while Lizzie listened to the back-and-forth from the kitchen.
Jordanna picked up three pancakes from the platter in the middle of the table, dumped them onto her plate, and then reached for the butter. “Your friends miss you. Can’t you see that?”
“My so-called friends probably haven’t even noticed I’m gone,” Della said. She snagged two pancakes for herself and reached for the jar of peanut butter. “That group doesn’t worry about anything except the next party. ”
“Is that why you left? You were partied out?” Jordanna spoke over a mouthful of cakes coated in syrup.
“Why can’t you drop it, Jordy? You’ve spent two days flogging that dead horse and I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not going back. That part of my life is over. Done. Just let it go.” Della poured a lake’s worth of syrup over her peanut butter-covered pancakes and took a huge bite. “Oh my God, Lizzie. I haven’t had pancakes in ages. So good.”
“Thanks,” Lizzie said. She sipped her coffee and wondered for the hundredth time why Della had come to the place she used to refer to as Lake Exile. Della craved spotlights, audiences, and attention, and she wouldn’t get any of that in upstate New York.
Jordanna speared a bite of pancake with her fork and held it aloft like a baton. “The thing is, Della, you signed a contract with Self Evident. It’s a huge problem if you don’t honor it. It’ll mean lawyers and penalties, not to mention a whole lot of people will be out of a job if you don’t do the tour.”
“There’s an out clause in the contract. The lawyer made sure of that. And I’ll pay the crew myself. Hey, they can come here to clean.” Della shoved more pancakes into her mouth winked at Lizzie.
Her tone was defiant, but Lizzie detected the telltale tic along the side of her right eye that indicated her sister felt guilty about something.
Lizzie sat down at the table so she could look her sister in the eye. “They’re musicians, Della, not housekeepers. They don’t belong here.”
Della avoided her gaze. “Then I’ll pay them for the tour anyway, and they can move on to the next gig early. They won’t mind that. ”
“Do you have any idea how much that would cost?” Lizzie asked.
Della shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I have enough.”
Lizzie thought of all the expenses associated with the last tour she’d helped arrange, then magnified it times Madison Square Garden and nearly choked on her coffee. “I seriously doubt you do. Even if you did, you wouldn’t have any left over. You’ll be broke.”
Della studied her half-eaten pancakes. “So I’ll do something else for money. You did.”
“Right.” Lizzie sighed and finished off her coffee. “On that note, time to get busy. You need a new job, and I need clean rooms. Jordanna, if you don’t mind, would you help me go over some receipts? I’m having a bit of a tangle with the budget. I could use another set of eyes on it.”
Jordanna took the last bite of her pancakes and nodded. “Sure thing. I just need to call Renic first.”
Della looked up, indignant. “Hey, why does she get to do paperwork while I have to scrub toilets?”
Lizzie felt her cheeks heat up at the mention of Jackson Renic. “Why do you need to call him ?”
Della looked at Jordanna. “Yeah, why are you calling him?”
Jordanna gave Della a long-suffering, Lord-my-load-is-heavy look. “He holds your contract. I have to let him know what’s going on. I have to tell him I failed, and that you’re backing out.”
Lizzie swore so loud the sound echoed off the rotunda wall, which caused both women to swivel their heads in her direction.
The last thing she wanted was Jackson Renic showing up on her doorstep to screw with her life. Again. The last time she saw him was the day Della had signed the contract that ended The Bellamy Sisters as a group and started Della on her solo career.
Della had pounced on them in the green room so full of excitement at her change of fortune that the news tumbled out of her in a tsunami of words.
Lizzie hadn’t seen it coming. At all. By the way her other two sisters reacted, they hadn’t either. The fight that followed had been epic. Horrible, hateful words were said. Fences were ripped apart and spread across the pasture.
So far, Lizzie had been the only one to mend the rift with Della. The other two still wouldn’t talk to her, though Mattie would let Della talk at her, which was a start.
Up until that day, she’d thought of Renic as, well, a friend. He’d circled their orbit for years at Dream Works Records, one of the largest divisions of Omega Music Group, working as a talent scout for Nate Edwards. He’d offered advice to Della, introduced Mattie to the agent who now managed her songwriting projects, and hooked Piper up with a big-name guitarist who took her music to the next level.
Unlike so many others in the business, Renic saw Lizzie as someone with value, even though she couldn’t sing or play an instrument. She’d—they’d—trusted him.
Five years ago he'd started his own label. Two years after that he'd ripped her family apart.
Lizzie noticed Della and Jordanna staring at her with expectation. She bit back the next few words she wanted to say, took a deep breath, and tried to explain herself. “If you tell him that, he’ll follow you, Jordanna. He’ll come here to try to talk Della out of it in person. In person .”
“Won’t do him any good.” Della ran her finger through a pool of syrup on her plate and licked it. “Don’t care what he says. Not going back.”
Jordanna flashed an apologetic look at Lizzie. “I held him off as long as I could, but you had to know he wouldn’t just sit back and let this happen. That’s not who he is. You know he cares about all of you.”
“I know he’ll stop at nothing to push his own self-interest.” Lizzie snatched up the empty plates from the table and walked them to the kitchen. “Let’s just get to work.”
After they loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen, Lizzie led the way through the cottage garden, across the back lawn, and into the main house's kitchen.
It was still early, but Carrie Collins, resident chef at the Belhurst, was up to her elbows in dough, and the smell of baked brownies filled the air. She looked up as they entered and smiled. “Good morning, everybody. Want a brownie?”
Lizzie shook her head. “No thanks, we just ate.”
Della darted forward and snatched one off the cooling rack. “Speak for yourself.”
Jordanna eyed the brownies with a greedy glint in her eye, but bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m cutting carbs.”
Lizzie thought of all the pancakes the woman had just consumed and hid a smile. “The office is through here, Jordanna. Have a seat. I’ll just show Della where the cleaning supplies are and be right back.”
Della grabbed two more brownies. “If I’m doing all this cleaning I’m going to need fuel.”
"Come on, Dell Bell, it’s time to earn your keep,” Lizzie told her.