Free Weep No More My Lady by Mary Higgins Clark

Mrs. Lowell from Boston, who had been coming here since Min opened the place; Countess d’Aronne, the brittle, aging beauty, who was at last showing most of her seventy years. The Countess had been an eighteen-year-old bride when her much older husband was murdered. She’d married four times since then, but after every divorce petitioned the French courts to restore her former title.
    â€œYou look gorgeous. I helped Leila pick out that jumpsuit on Rodeo Drive.” Min’s voice boomed in her ear, Min’s arm was solidly linked in hers. Elizabeth felt herself being propelled forward. A scent of the ocean mingled with the perfume of roses. The well-bred voices and laughter ofthe people on the veranda hummed around her. The background music was Serber playing Mendelssohn’s Concerto for Violin in E minor. Leila would drop everything to attend a Serber concert.
    A waiter offered her a choice of beverages nonalcoholic wine or a soft drink. She chose the nonalcoholic wine. Leila had been cynical about Min’s firm no-alcohol rule. “Listen, Sparrow, half the people who go to that joint are boozers. They all bring some stuff with them, but even so they have to cut down a lot. So they lose some weight, and Min claims credit for the Spa. Don’t you think the Baron keeps a supply in that study of his? You bet he does!”
    I should have gone to East Hampton, Elizabeth thought. Anywhere—anywhere but here. It was as if she were filled with a sense of Leila’s presence, as if Leila were trying to reach her. . . .
    â€œElizabeth.” Min’s voice was sharp. Sharp, but also nervous, she realized. “The Countess is talking to you.”
    â€œI’m terribly sorry.” Affectionately, she reached out to grasp the aristocratic hand that was extended to her.
    The Countess smiled warmly. “I saw your last film. You’re developing into a very fine actress, chérie.”
    How like Countess d’Aronne to sense she would not want to discuss Leila. “It was a good role. I was lucky.” And then Elizabeth felt her eyes widen. “Min, coming down the path. Isn’t that Syd and Cheryl?”
    â€œYes. They just called this morning. I forgot to tell you. You don’t mind that they’re here?”
    â€œOf course not. It’s only . . .” Her voice trailed off. She was still embarrassed over the way Leila had humiliated Syd that night in Elaine’s. Syd had made Leila a star. No matter what mistakes he’d talked her into those last few years, they didn’t stack up against the times he’d nailed down the parts she wanted. . . .
    And Cheryl? Under the veneer of friendship, she and Leila had shared an intense professional and personal rivalry. Leila had taken Ted from Cheryl. Cheryl had almost wrecked her career by stepping into Leila’s play. . . .
    Unconsciously, Elizabeth straightened her back. On the other hand, Syd had made a fortune off Leila’s earnings. Cheryl had tried every trick in the book to get Ted back. If only she’d succeeded, Elizabeth thought, Leila might still be alive. . . .
    They had spotted her. They both looked as surprised as she felt. The Countess murmured, “Not that dreadful tart, Cheryl Manning . . .”
    They were coming up the steps toward her. Elizabeth studied Cheryl objectively. Her hair was a tangled web around her face. It was much darker than it had been the last time she had seen her, and very becoming. The last time? That had been at Leila’s memorial service.
    Reluctantly Elizabeth conceded to herself that Cheryl had never looked better. Her smile was dazzling; the famous amber-colored eyes assumed a tender expression. Her greeting would have fooled anyone who didn’t know her. “Elizabeth, my darling, I never dreamed I’d see you here, but how wonderful! Has it gone fairly well?”
    Then it was Syd’s turn.