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Survived by Her Longtime Companion
Blue Feather Books Limited
Copyright © 2012 by Chris Paynter
Any copying, posting, or reprinting of this copyrighted material or deriving ideas from this copyrighted material is strictly prohibited. This material is protected by the copyright laws of the United States.
Chapter 4 is where Bailey and Chelsea meet again, albeit unexpectedly, at Eleanor Burnett's house to interview her about her late partner, the movie star Daphne DeMonet.
Chapter 4 Excerpt
Eleanor looked back and forth between the two women. “You know each other?”
Chelsea nodded and noticed Bailey doing the same.
“Let’s sit down, and you can tell me how.” Eleanor motioned them to the chairs.
Chelsea scooted her chair closer to Eleanor’s before sitting
down.
“Tea, Chelsea?” Eleanor asked.
“No, thank you.” Her heart pounded in her ears. She hadn’t prepared for this. How could she have? She didn’t think Bailey had, either, if her bouncing knee was any indication.
“What do you drink?” Eleanor asked.
“Water is fine.” Chelsea gripped her briefcase against her chest as if it could protect her from her swirling emotions.
Eleanor picked up a small porcelain bell and rang it. Bailey flinched at the sound.
“Madam?” Niles appeared at the sliding glass door.
“Ice water for Professor Parker, please.”
After he left, Eleanor took a sip of her tea and stared at them over the rim of her cup. “So. Who’s going to tell me first?”
Chelsea shot a quick glance over at Bailey whose bouncing knee had hit a frenzied rate.
“Bailey and I... we... well, we...”
Eleanor finished her sentence. “You were lovers.”
“Yes,” Chelsea answered.
“How long?” Eleanor asked.
“How long...” Chelsea grew more uncomfortable with the questions. Who was interviewing whom here?
“How long were you together?”
Chelsea was about to answer, but Bailey interrupted.
“Nine years, three months, and thirteen days.”
Chelsea swallowed the lump in her throat in an attempt to stave off her tears.
Niles brought out a bottle of water and a glass of ice. After he left, an awkward silence shrouded the table.
“Interesting,” Eleanor said. “Very interesting. And how long apart?”
Chelsea answered this time. “Eleven months.”
“All right. Here’s the big question. Why did you separate?”
Bailey tapped the side of her cup with her index finger.
When it was clear Bailey wasn’t about to respond, Chelsea answered. “We got too busy with our work and grew apart.”
Eleanor’s sharp laugh echoed in the backyard.
“That’s it? You were busy and grew apart?”
“Well...” Chelsea tried to think of something else to say but was at a loss.
Eleanor waved her hand in the air. “Don’t try to justify it with any more words. I get the picture.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Chelsea wondered whether she’d lost the interview before it had even begun.
“Upset me?” Again, Eleanor laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I’m not upset. I’m angry. There’s a difference.”
“What did I say wrong? I didn’t mean anything by my words.” Chelsea gave Bailey a pleading look.
Bailey leaned toward Eleanor. “We were both at fault.”
“You most certainly were. How could you let a nine-year—
what did you say? Nine-year, three-months and—”
“Thirteen days,” Chelsea said.
“Right. If you both can remember the exact time you were together, how could you now be apart? It makes no sense. None.”
Eleanor rose to her feet and stomped off toward the garden.
Chelsea watched her leave and then whirled toward Bailey. “What is this? Why are you here?”
“Hi, Bailey. How’ve you been? I’ve been fine, Chelsea, how about you?” Bailey rolled her eyes. “Why do you think? For the same reason you are.”
“Let me guess. Joanne Addison thought because you’re gay,
Eleanor Burnett would talk to you.”
“Yeah. That’s pretty much it.”
“And you came anyway, knowing I’m here teaching?” Chelsea’s voice continued to rise.
“Why are you mad? It’s not like you have the right to an exclusive.” Bailey stood and shoved her chair back. It teetered and then settled on all four legs.
Chelsea rose to her feet to avoid Bailey towering over her. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”
Bailey looked like she was about to say something more. Instead, she marched toward the direction Eleanor had taken.
“Wait!” Chelsea hurried to catch up with Bailey’s long strides. “I’m not done.”
“I don’t have to listen to this anymore, remember?” Bailey’s jaw was tight.
Chelsea stumbled and began to fall forward, but Bailey caught her under the elbow. When she did, Chelsea fell into her arms. They stared at each other, both breathing heavy. Bailey’s gaze dropped to Chelsea’s lips. Then she blinked, pulled away, and continued toward Eleanor who stood in the distance.
I almost kissed her, Bailey thought. I can’t believe I almost kissed her. What is wrong with me? She caught up with Eleanor who was weeding the daffodils.
“Ms. Burnett...” Bailey started to say.
Eleanor raised her head and glared at Bailey.
“I’m sorry. Eleanor. Please don’t let our former relationship keep you from talking to me.”
“To us,” Chelsea chimed in as she moved beside Bailey.
Eleanor straightened and brushed the dirt from her hands. “Tomorrow morning. Seven o’clock sharp.”
Bailey and Chelsea spoke at the same time.
“I’m sorry?”
“Excuse me?”
“Seven o’clock in the morning. You Yanks are capable of arising that early, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” they answered together.
“I see some habits are hard to break. I bet you still finish each other’s sentences, too. Return tomorrow at seven and we’ll talk. I’m tired. It’s time for my afternoon nap. You can find your way to the front by following that path.” Eleanor gestured at a dirt path lined with stones and strode back to the house.
“That was interesting,” Bailey said, but Chelsea was already walking down the path. “Hey, wait, Chels. I still don’t know why you’re so angry.”
Bailey caught up with her as Chelsea reached the Outback. She was about to open the door, but Bailey pressed her palm against it and waited for Chelsea to face her. “Talk to me.”
Bailey reached out to touch Chelsea’s shoulder but let her hand drop to her side.
Chelsea spun around, her face wet with tears. She wiped at them in jerking motions.
She’s that angry, Bailey thought. No. Wait. She’s hurt.
“I can’t believe you came out here thinking there was no chance we could meet. Are you that desperate for a job?”
Bailey bristled. “Now, hold on. My job is as important to me as yours is to you. Or have you conveniently forgotten that and twisted history?”
“What do you mean, ‘twisted history’?”
“Seems like the only one you’re thinking about is you. Just like when...”
“Just like when, what, Bailey? When I was the brave one and actually acknowledged we couldn’t go on the way we were? Is that what you were going to say?”
“I didn’t say it.”
“You didn’t have to. I know how you think, and right now the only one you’re thinking about is you.” Chelsea poked her in the chest with her index finger. “You could have told Joanne no.”
“Well, I didn’t. So grow up and accept it that we’re both here to do our jobs.”
Chelsea opened her mouth to say something but stopped.
“What?” Bailey asked.
“It’s too damn soon.” Chelsea reached behind her, opened the door, and got inside, not looking up as she started the engine and drove around the circular drive to the gravel road.
“It’s not like I planned it!” Bailey shouted at the dust left behind by the Outback. She tramped to her Jeep. She buckled her seatbelt and was about to pull away when she noticed a curtain in the front of the house move aside before dropping back into place.
“Crazy old broad,” Bailey muttered as she drove back to the main road. “Thanks a lot, Joanne.”
Chapter 6 marks the start of readings from Eleanor's diary that are interspersed throughout the book, woven around the present-day story of Bailey and Chelsea. This particular entry is after Eleanor has been cast as an extra in a Daphne DeMonet film. She's been invited to a party at Daphne's.
Chapter 6 Excerpt
Friday, 25 August 1950. I arrived at the gated entrance to Miss DeMonet’s Beverly Hills home at seven-thirty, gave my name to the attendant, and followed others garbed in elegant tuxes and party dresses down the winding path to her home. I glanced down at my attire and wondered again about my choice. Rose had helped me find a soft blue satin gown that fell to my knees.
“It brings out the blue in your eyes,” she’d said.
But it also showed plenty of cleavage. I felt exposed and checked around before tugging the front a little higher.
The sprawling Spanish-style mansion was everything I expected it to be. The sun was descending in the western sky, and its dying golden rays suffused the white stucco in a soft orange light.
A doorman again stopped me to check off my name. After passing inspection, I moved from the foyer into the large living room overflowing with beautiful people. Searching where to stand to blend in, I spotted a small alcove by the hors d’oeuvres table and bar. It seemed safe enough.
I approached the bartender. “A glass of white wine please.”
An excited murmur rippled through the crowd. I craned my neck to see Daphne DeMonet enter the room. Her smile lit on everyone she turned to while her gaze held them in place. A glowing aura surrounded her. I blinked, thinking it must be the lighting. A silver, jewel-encrusted barrette pushed her dark hair back on the side; the rest cascaded onto her bare shoulders. A slit in her white, sequined gown, rising almost to her hip, allowed a generous view of one tanned leg as she moved through the crowd.
My mouth felt suddenly dry. I took several sips of wine and tried to tear my eyes away from her, but I failed in the effort. A group of four or five young, handsome men descended upon her and surrounded her, preventing her from walking farther. One handed her a drink, leaned in to kiss her cheek, and pressed his lips to her ear. She threw her head back as she laughed at something he must have said. My gaze was drawn down her long neck to her cleavage below.
I snapped my eyes up when I realised where I’d been looking and held back a gasp.
Daphne DeMonet was still laughing with the men surrounding her, but she was staring at me.
I took another long drink to finish off the rest of my wine and searched for a place to set down the glass. When I turned around, my heart leapt to my throat.
Daphne was walking slowly toward me and seemed to be sizing me up, like a lioness hunting a gazelle on the plains of Africa.
“Hello,” she said in that famous, husky voice that was almost a growl. “I was in the studio when you read this week. Eleanor Burnett, right?”
I nodded, unable to find enough saliva to utter a word.
“I know you can speak. I heard you read your line,” she said in a teasing tone.
I swallowed. “Ye-yes. I’m surprised you remember me, Miss DeMonet.”
“Oh, I never forget names.” She locked in on my eyes. “Or pretty faces.”
Fire heated my cheeks.
“Why don’t we go someplace a little quieter to chat?” Not awaiting my reply, she took my hand and led me through the throng. She allowed several actors to give her air kisses along the way. She manoeuvred me to the backyard to a cement bench ensconced within a beautiful flower garden. “Sit with me.”
There wasn’t much of a choice as she pulled me to her side.
“So, Ellie... may I call you Ellie?”
“Yes.” I don’t know why I agreed. No one had ever called me that. Mesmerised in her presence, it was as if a pixie had sprinkled magic dust upon my head and rendered me helpless to do anything but what she bid.
“I love your accent.” She pressed her leg against mine. “I’ve been to England a time or two. Where are you from?”
“Banbury in Oxfordshire.”
“A long way from home, hmm? I imagine it gets lonely.” She placed her hand on my knee. It felt like a red-hot poker had seared through my dress.
“S-sometimes,” I stuttered. My skin ablaze, my body reacted in ways it never had before. Only two young men had sat this intimately with me. I had felt nothing with them but a sense of dread as to what happened next. With her, I felt fear and something else unforeseen... longing.
Her gaze dropped to my mouth. She questioned me with one upraised eyebrow as she drew even nearer.
I took a breath before her lips pressed into mine. Her long, thin fingers entwined into my hair and pulled me closer.
“Daphne DeMonet is kissing me” ran through my mind until a second thought hit me like a hammered spike. A woman is kissing me. And I’m kissing her back. Oh my God.
I yanked my mouth away with a soft cry and jumped to my feet.
“Miss DeMonet, I... I...”
The dimming light from the setting sun captured the amusement on her face. “I think you can call me Daphne after a kiss like that.”
Terrified and shaken, I fled from her and from the conflicting emotions raging inside of me.
“Wait! I’m sorry!”
I heard her gown rustling behind me as she rushed to catch up. Just as I made it to the back door, she grasped my wrist.
“I’m sorry. I thought you… well, I thought you...”
“You thought I what?” I asked with tears streaming down my cheeks.
Her cheeks grew flushed, and her dark eyes pleaded with mine for something I knew I wasn’t able to give.
“I’m so sorry. Please don’t think ill of me. I presumed something, and I took advantage of you.”
I stared at her hand still holding my wrist in its tight grip. She let go.
“Please, you won’t tell anyone, will you?” Gone was the sleek huntress, replaced by a frightened young woman concerned about her reputation... and most likely her career.
“No,” I answered quietly. “No, I won’t tell anyone. But you must know I’m not that way.” A sudden thought came to mind. “The reason I got the part. It wasn’t because of this, was it?”
She hesitated. Enough for me to know the answer.
Anger boiled inside of me. “You and Mr. Teller can find someone else for your Brit.” I barged through the back door of the house and shoved past anyone in my path, not caring who it was nor what kind of dark looks I received.
Before I left, I couldn’t help myself. There was such a pull to turn back to her as if I were the ocean tide and she the moon. Her admirers had surrounded her once again, all vying for her attention.
But Daphne DeMonet only had eyes for me.
Available January 2012
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