Sidney Sheldon - A Stranger in the Mirror

Someone nudged Sam and he turned to see a pretty, dark-haired girl, about eighteen. “You don’t know me, Mr. Winters”—she smiled—“but I heard you’re looking for a girl for the new William Forbes movie. I’m from Ohio, and…”

David Kenyon was there. Jill had asked him not to come, but David had insisted. He wanted to be near her. Jill supposed that it could do no harm now. She was finished with her performance.

The play had closed and her part was over. Jill was so glad and so tired. It was as though the fiery ordeal she had gone through had burned away the hard core of bitterness within her, had cauterized all the hurts and the disappointments and the hatreds. Jill Castle had died in the holocaust and Josephine Czinski had been reborn in the ashes. She was at peace again, filled with a love for everyone and a contentment she had not known since she was a young girl. She had never been so happy. She wanted to share it with the world.

The funeral rites were ending. Someone took Jill’s arm, and she allowed herself to be led to the limousine. When she reached the car, David was standing there, a look of adoration on his face. Jill smiled at him. David took her hands in his and they exchanged a few words. A press photographer snapped a picture of them.

Jill and David decided to wait five months before they got married, so that the public’s sense of propriety would be satisfied. David spent a great part of that time out of the country, but they talked to each other every day. Four months after Toby’s funeral, David telephoned Jill and said, “I had a brainstorm. Let’s not wait any longer. I have to go to Europe next week for a conference. Let’s sail to France on the Bretagne . The captain can marry us. We’ll honeymoon in Paris and from there we’ll go anywhere you like for as long as you like. What do you say?”

“Oh, yes, David, yes!”

She took a long last look around the house, thinking of all that had happened here. Remembering her first dinner party there and all the wonderful parties later and then Toby’s sickness and her fight to bring him back to health. And then…there were too many memories.

She was glad to be leaving.

37

David’s private jet plane flew Jill to New York, where a limousine was waiting to drive her to the Regency Hotel on Park Avenue. The manager himself ushered Jill to an enormous penthouse suite.

“The hotel is completely at your service, Mrs. Temple,” he said. “Mr. Kenyon instructed us to see that you have everything you need.”

Ten minutes after Jill checked in, David telephoned from Texas. “Comfortable?” he asked.

“It’s a little crowded.” Jill laughed. “It has five bedrooms , David. What am I going to do with them all?”

“If I were there, I’d show you,” he said.

“Promises, promises,” she teased. “When am I going to see you?”

“The Bretagne sails at noon tomorrow. I have some business to wind up here. I’ll meet you aboard the ship. I’ve reserved the honeymoon suite. Happy, darling?”

“I’ve never been happier,” Jill said. And it was true. Everything that had gone before, all the pain and the agony, it had all been worth it. It seemed remote and dim, now, like a half-forgotten dream.

“A car will pick you up in the morning. The driver will have your boat ticket.”

“I’ll be ready,” Jill said.

Tomorrow.

It could have started with the photograph of Jill and David Kenyon that had been taken at Toby’s funeral and sold to a newspaper chain. It could have been a careless remark dropped by an employee of the hotel where Jill was staying or by a member of the crew of the Bretagne . In any case, there was no way that the wedding plans of someone as famous as Jill Temple could have been kept secret. The first item about her impending marriage appeared in an Associated Press bulletin. After that, it was a front-page story in newspapers across the country and in Europe.

The story was also carried in the Hollywood Reporter and Daily Variety .

The limousine arrived at the hotel precisely on the dot of ten o’clock. A doorman and three bellboys loaded Jill’s luggage into the car. The morning traffic was light and the drive to Pier 90 took less than half an hour.

A senior ship’s officer was waiting for Jill at the gangplank. “We’re honored to have you aboard, Mrs. Temple,” he said. “Everything’s ready for you. If you would come this way, please.”

He escorted Jill to the Promenade Deck and ushered her into a large, airy suite with its own private terrace. The rooms were filled with fresh flowers.

“The captain asked me to give you his compliments. He will see you at dinner this evening. He said to tell you how much he’s looking forward to performing the wedding ceremony.”

“Thank you,” Jill said. “Do you know whether Mr. Kenyon is on board yet?”

“We just received a telephone message. He’s on his way from the airport. His luggage is already here. If there is anything you need, please let me know.”

“Thank you,” Jill replied. “There’s nothing.” And it was true. There was not one single thing that she needed that she did not have. She was the happiest person in the world.

There was a knock at the cabin door and a steward entered, carrying more flowers. Jill looked at the card. They were from the President of the United States. Memories. She pushed them out of her mind and began to unpack.

He was standing at the railing on the Main Deck, studying the passengers as they came aboard. Everyone was in a festive mood, preparing for a holiday or joining loved ones aboard. A few of them smiled at him, but the man paid no attention to them. He was watching the gangplank.

At eleven-forty A.M., twenty minutes before sailing time, a chauffeur-driven Silver Shadow raced up to Pier 90 and stopped. David Kenyon jumped out of the car, looked at his watch and said to the chauffeur, “Perfect timing, Otto.”

“Thank you, sir. And may I wish you and Mrs. Kenyon a very happy honeymoon.”

“Thanks.” David Kenyon hurried toward the gangplank, where he presented his ticket. He was escorted aboard by the ship’s officer who had taken care of Jill.

“Mrs. Temple is in your cabin, Mr. Kenyon.”

“Thank you.”

David could visualize her in the bridal suite, waiting for him, and his heart quickened. As David started to move away, a voice called, “Mr. Kenyon…”

David turned. The man who had been standing near the railing walked over to him, a smile on his face. David had never seen him before. David had the millionaire’s instinctive distrust of friendly strangers. Almost invariably, they wanted something.

The man held out his hand, and David shook it cautiously. “Do we know each other?” David asked.

“I’m an old friend of Jill’s,” the man said, and David relaxed. “My name is Lawrence. Clifton Lawrence.”

“How do you do, Mr. Lawrence.” He was impatient to leave.

“Jill asked me to come up and meet you,” Clifton said. “She’s planned a little surprise for you.”

David looked at him. “What kind of surprise?”

“Come along, and I’ll show you.”

David hesitated a moment. “All right. Will it take long?”

Clifton Lawrence looked up at him and smiled. “I don’t think so.”

They took an elevator down to C deck, moving past the throngs of embarking passengers and visitors. They walked down a corridor to a large set of double doors. Clifton opened them and ushered David in. David found himself in a large, empty theater. He looked around, puzzled. “In here?”

“In here.” Clifton smiled.

He turned and looked up at the projectionist in the booth and nodded. The projectionist was greedy. Clifton had had to give him two hundred dollars before he would agree to assist him. “If they ever found out, I would lose my job,” he had grumbled.