Genuine Lies

encouraging. She hadn’t yet begun the book, and already people were sweating. The fact that it could have come from severalsources only made the game more interesting. Her rules, she thought. The power was in her hands. It was long past time she used it.
    She poured water from the Baccarat carafe—swallowed the medication, hated the weakness. After replacing the pills, she walked to a long silver-framed mirror. She had to stop wondering if she was making a mistake. She didn’t care to second-guess herself once a decision had been made. Not now. Not ever.
    With careful, brutally honest eyes, she checked her own reflection. The emerald-toned silk jump suit was flattering. She had done her own makeup and hair only an hour before. Gold glinted at her ears, her throat, her fingers. Assured she looked every bit the star, she started downstairs. She would, as always, make an entrance.
    A cool-eyed, beefy-armed housekeeper who called herself Travers, had shown Julia and Brandon into the salon. Tea, they were told, would be forthcoming. They were to make themselves at home.
    Julia wondered that anyone could consider such a room in such a house home. Color tumbled into color, streaking and spilling over white walls, white carpet, white upholstery. Pillows and paintings, flowers and porcelain were all dramatic accents against a pristine background. The high ceiling was ornate with plasterwork. The windows were scalloped with teal silk.
    But it was the painting, the larger-than-life-size portrait over the white marble fireplace that was the focal point. Despite the drama of the room, the painting dominated … and demanded.
    Still clutching Brandon’s hand, Julia stared up at it. Eve Benedict, nearly forty years before, her beauty staggering, her power awesome. Crimson satin slid off her bare shoulders, draped over her lush body as she stood, laughing down at her audience, not so much with humor as with knowledge. Her hair flowed simply, dark as ebony. She wore no jewelry. Needed none.
    “Who is that?” Brandon wanted to know. “Is she like a queen?”
    “Yes.” Julia bent down to kiss the top of his head. “That’s Eve Benedict, and she’s very much like a queen.”
    “Carlotta,” Eve said in her rich, whiskey voice as she entered. “From
No Tomorrows.”
    Julia turned and faced the woman. “MGM, 1951,” Julia acknowledged. “You played opposite Montgomery Clift. It was your first Oscar.”
    “Very good.” Eve kept her eyes on Julia’s as she crossed the room and extended her hand. “Welcome to California, Ms. Summers.”
    “Thank you.” Julia found her hand held in a firm grip while Eve studied her. Knowing the first moments of this relationship would be crucial, she returned the look measure for measure. She saw that both the power and the beauty had aged, and had grown.
    With her own thoughts well concealed, Eve looked down at Brandon. “And you are Mr. Summers.”
    He giggled at that and shot a glance at his mother. “I guess. It’s okay to call me Brandon, though.”
    “Thank you.” She had an urge to touch his hair, and repressed it. “You may call me … Miss B. for lack of something better. Ah, Travers, always prompt.” She nodded as the housekeeper wheeled in the tea tray. “Please sit down, I won’t keep you long. I’m sure you’d like to settle in.” She took a high-backed white chair and waited until Julia and the boy sat on the couch. “We’ll dine at seven, but since I know the food on the plane was ghastly, I thought you’d like a little something.”
    Brandon, who had been unenthusiastic about tea, noted that the little something included frosted cakes, tiny sandwiches, and a tall pitcher of lemonade. He grinned.
    “It’s very kind of you,” Julia began.
    “We’ll be spending quite a bit of time together, so you’ll find out that I’m rarely kind. Isn’t that so, Travers?”
    Travers merely grunted and set delicate china plates on the coffee table before she stalked out again.
    “I will, however, try to keep you comfortable, because it suits me to have you do a good job.”
    “I’ll do a good job, comfortable or not. One,” she said to Brandon as he reached for a second cake. “But your hospitality is appreciated, Miss Benedict.”
    “Can I have two if I eat two sandwiches?”
    Julia glanced down at Brandon. Eve noted that her smile came easily and her eyes softened. “Eat the sandwiches first.” When she shifted her attention to Eve, her smile was formal