Private Scandals

floor of the foyer, inches inside the door. There was a quick pain, a twist in the gut like a fist punching muscle. Then she went numb, crossing the polished wood, bending down.
    She opened the envelope as Finn came down behind her.
    “Goddamn it.” He took it from her limp fingers, and read.
    He’ll never hurt you again.
    When they left the house, someone was watching, a heart bursting with love and need and terrible grief. Killing for her had been nothing. It had been done before, and needed to be done again.
    Perhaps she would see, at last.

Chapter Twenty-seven
    J eff stood in the control booth overlooking the studio, biting his lip in agitation. Deanna was about to film her first show since Angela’s death.
    “Camera Three, on Dee.” He barked out orders. “Take Two, zoom out. Wider on One, pan. Give me Dee tight, Three, music in. Great, great applause. Start the playback tape.”
    He applauded himself, as did the others in the booth. From their perch overlooking the stage they could see the audience surge to its feet and cheer.
    “Ride it,” Jeff ordered. Oh yeah, he thought, sharing the triumph. She’s back. “Ride the applause.”
    Down below Deanna stood on the new set with its jewel tones and banks of cheery holly bushes and let the waves of applause wash over her. It was, she knew, a show of support, a welcoming home. When her eyes filled she didn’t bother to blink back the tears. She didn’t think about it.
    “Thanks.” She let out a long, unsteady breath. “It’s really good to be back. I . . .” She trailed off while she scanned the crowd. There were familiar faces dotted among the strangers. Faces from the newsroom, from production. Pleasure glowed on her face. “It’s really good to see you. Before we getrolling, I’d like to thank you all for your letters and phone calls over the past week. Your support has helped me, and everyone involved with the show, through a difficult time.”
    And that, she thought, was all the space she could give, would give, to the past.
    “Now I’d like to bring out a woman who’s given us all so many hours of entertainment. She’s incandescent. Luminous. With a talent as golden as her eyes. According to Newsweek, Kate Lowell can ‘ignite the screen with a sweep of the eyelash, by the flash of her signature smile.’ She’s proven both her popular and her critical appeal by holding the number-one box-office position for two straight years, and by winning an Oscar for her portrayal of the heroic, unforgettable Tess in Deception. Ladies and gentlemen, Kate Lowell.”
    Again, the applause erupted. Kate swept into it, looking confident and fresh and every bit the star. But when Deanna took her hand, she found it cold and trembling. Deliberately Deanna wrapped her in an embrace.
    “Don’t do anything you’re not ready to do,” she murmured in Kate’s ear. “I’m not going to push you into any revelations.”
    Kate hesitated a moment. “Oh God, I’m glad you’re here, Dee. Let’s sit down, okay? My knees are shaking.”
    It wasn’t an easy show, from any angle. Deanna was able to guide the first ten minutes through juicy Hollywood chitchat, keeping the audience amused to the point where she assumed Kate had changed her mind about the announcement.
    “I like playing women of strength, and character.” In a fluid movement that rustled silk, Kate crossed her long, million-dollar legs. “And there do seem to be more scripts being written for strong women, women who are not just bystanders but who have beliefs and standards they’re willing to fight for. I’m grateful for the chance to play those women, because I didn’t always fight for what I wanted.”
    “So you feel as though you’re able to do that now, through your work?”
    “I relate to many of the characters I’ve played. Tess in particular. Because she was a woman who sacrificed everything, risked everything for the sake of her child. In an odd sort of way, I mirrored Tess. Mirror images are opposites. And I sacrificed my child, my chance with my child, when I gave it up for adoption ten years ago.”
    “Damn.” In the control booth, Jeff’s eyes popped wide. The audience had dropped into stunned silence. “Damn,” he said again. “Camera Two, tight on Kate. Man, oh man.”
    But even as he worriedly bit his lip again, he focused on Deanna’s face. She’d known, he realized, and let out a long, calming breath. She’d known . . . .
    “An unplanned pregnancy at