Lyra gave that a moment of thought. “Well, it does sound a little classier than crime scene photographer.”
“That’s my theory,” Vivian said.
She and Lyra were sitting in the hotel tearoom, drowning their sorrows in oolong tea while they ate their way through a full tray of scones and dainty sandwiches. Originally they had intended to head straight for the bar and order a pitcher of martinis but it was only three o’clock in the afternoon. They had decided to save the martinis until five o’clock. Even a couple of wild women had to maintain a few standards.
“You think you’ve got problems?” Lyra helped herself to a tiny lemon square from the tiered serving tray in the center of the table. “I’m the one who has to tell the parents that I canceled the wedding to Prince Charming while they were out of town. Also, I’ve got to explain that story in Whispers.”
Vivian glanced at the afternoon copy of Hollywood Whispers lying on the table. The headline was in large, bold font. WHO IS THE NEW MYSTERY WOMAN IN RIPLEY FLEMING’S LIFE? The photo showed the actor dancing with Lyra at the Paradise Club in Burning Cove.
“If it’s any consolation, you do look like a real mystery woman,” Vivian said.
Lyra looked pleased. “I do, don’t I? You’ve gotta love Hollywood. You can be anyone you dare to be.”
“I understand the problem of trying to explain the canceled wedding,” Vivian said. “I’m the one who turned down Hamilton’s first offer of marriage, remember? Father was furious. Mother said I had ruined my life.”
Lyra winced. “I can’t believe that at the time I thought it was a lucky break for me.”
“I suppose we should look on the bright side,” Vivian said.
“There’s a bright side? I mean, apart from me having found out the truth before the wedding?”
“Of course there’s a bright side. Mr. Perfect wasn’t guilty of trying to have me murdered.”
Lyra hoisted her teacup. “Here’s to Hamilton Merrick. He may be a lying, cheating, two-timing bastard but he doesn’t hire professional killers.”
“Obviously a man of high principles,” Vivian said. She raised her cup, took a healthy swallow of tea, and thought longingly of the martinis that had been postponed until five. With a small sigh of regret she set the cup carefully onto the saucer. “You’re sure your heart isn’t broken?”
“Nope. I got over Hamilton during the drive from San Francisco to Burning Cove. Nothing like a road trip to give a woman a new perspective. Dating a famous movie star is just icing on the cake.”
Vivian hesitated. “You do realize that handsome, talented movie stars probably don’t make the best husband material, right?”
“Of course. I don’t have any illusions on the subject. And you needn’t worry that Ripley Fleming is trying to seduce me, either.”
“Is that so?”
Lyra winked. “You could say that Ripley and I find our current association mutually convenient. We’re both having fun together but that’s it.”
“I realize Mr. Fleming felt he owed me a favor. I assumed that entertaining my heartbroken sister while we were in Burning Cove was his way of paying off the debt.”
“Ripley had the best of intentions, believe me,” Lyra said. “But the situation has proven useful to him, as well.”
“What do you mean?”
Lyra picked up her cup and looked at Vivian over the rim. “Let’s just say that Ripley Fleming is a great admirer of your artistic approach to the nude male figure.”
Vivian perked up. “He saw one of my Men series and liked it?”
“In the window of that gallery in Burning Cove.”
“That’s so nice to hear. Thank you. I keep thinking that if I could just get my work into a few more of the right galleries—”
Lyra leaned forward across the small table and lowered her voice. “Listen up, Sister, you’re missing my point.”
“There was a point?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake. Stop thinking about your no-longer-failed art career and focus on what I just said. Ripley is a big admirer of the nude male figure. In fact, he prefers it to the nude female figure.”
Vivian stared at her. “I don’t—” Comprehension finally struck. She started to smile and then she laughed. “I see. I suppose that does explain why he wanted to call off the wedding with Clara Carstairs.”
“It was supposed to be just another studio marriage arranged by the publicists but Clara had begun to take things seriously. She fell in love with Ripley. No surprise. He really is a very nice person.”
“I see,” Vivian said.
“When it became apparent that Clara expected a real marriage, Ripley decided that he could not go through with it.”
“Ripley tried to do the right thing.”
“Yes,” Lyra said. She smiled. “Now you can understand why you don’t have to be afraid I’ll fall head over heels for him. Between you and me, I was serious when I said I won’t ever marry.”
“I used to think I would never marry, either,” Vivian said.
Lyra’s brows rose. “But?”
“But now I’ve changed my mind.”
Lyra smiled again. “Nick Sundridge.”
It was not a question.
Vivian felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to your sister, who has known you her entire life. If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure he feels the same way about you.”
“What are you going to do, Lyra? After you tell the parents that you won’t be marrying Hamilton, that is?”
“I don’t know,” Lyra admitted, “but I’m sure of one thing: I’m not going back to San Francisco. After I’ve explained the situation to Mother and Father I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago—find my passion and pursue it.”
“Where?”
Lyra smiled. “Burning Cove looks like an excellent place for an ambitious woman with a few dreams.”
“What will you do?”
“I haven’t decided. I suppose I could always open an art gallery and show my sister’s fine art photography. But something tells me that won’t be necessary. You’re already hanging in a very fine gallery there.”
Vivian laughed.
A page in the hotel livery walked through the tearoom. He had a telephone in his hands.