Someone to Watch Over Me Read online

  “Not long,” Leigh said, wincing as he settled himself close beside her on the sofa, but her attention was on Jane, who had stopped at a mirror to inspect her flawless face.

  In the tradition of the Barrymores, four successive generations of the Sebring family had become theater legends. Jane was the first member of her illustrious family ever to be regarded as extraordinarily beautiful; she was also the first member of her family to be savaged by theater critics in her first Broadway role. In reality, she’d simply debuted in a major role that was far too challenging for an inexperienced actress of twenty-one, but she’d been given that opportunity because she was a Sebring. And because she was a Sebring, the critics had held her to the impossibly high standards set by her more experienced, and far less gorgeous, famous ancestors.

  Two weeks after the play opened, she left it in disgrace and went to Hollywood. There, her family’s contacts opened doors for her, and her stunning face and figure mesmerized the cameras. With good direction and good editing, her performances improved along with her roles, culminating in an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress last year.

  Her Oscar gave Jane a stature in films that her forebears had never achieved in their motion picture careers, but that wasn’t enough. Apparently still wounded by her long-ago humiliation on Broadway, she’d passed up two stellar film opportunities and a fortune in money in order to take a role in Blind Spot.

  “You poor thing!” Jane said as she put her cheek near Leigh’s and blew a kiss in the air; then she straightened and did her own inventory of the fading bruises and healing cuts on Leigh’s face. “You’ve been through so much since opening night—”

  Hoping to avoid probing questions about the details of what she’d been through, Leigh resorted to formalities by asking them if Hilda could bring them something to drink.

  “I’ll have my usual,” Jason said, looking over his shoulder at Hilda, who he knew from experience would be hovering nearby, ready to bring refreshments. “A vodka martini,” he clarified, “with two olives.”

  “Jane?” Leigh asked.

  “I don’t drink,” Jane reminded her, her expression gently chiding Leigh for failing to remember that Jane did not drink alcohol. Although past generations of the Sebring family had all been as notorious for their vices as for their talent, Jane Sebring had none of their predilection for excesses. She did not drink or smoke, she abhorred drugs, and she was a physical-fitness fanatic. “I’ll have some bottled water, if you have it.”

  “We do,” Leigh said.

  “I prefer Weltzenholder,” Jane added. “It’s bottled in the Alps. They only export a thousand cases a year to the U.S. I buy one hundred cases at a time.”

  “I’m sorry, but the other nine hundred cases went to someone other than us,” Leigh said lightly. “What else would you like?”

  “Pellegrino will be fine.”

  Leigh nodded and looked at Hilda. “I’d like tea, Hilda. Thank you.”

  Jason watched Hilda as if to make sure she was out of earshot before he asked a question, but Hilda was completely trustworthy. Jane was the fascinated outsider who would repeat and embellish everything she heard to friends, strangers, and reporters alike. Leigh could have strangled him for bringing her along.

  “What news have you heard about Logan?” he asked Leigh as soon as Hilda disappeared beyond a doorway.

  “Nothing. You know as much as I do.”

  He looked genuinely shocked. “Darling, this is unbelievable, impossible! What could have happened to him?”

  He died. . . . I know it. . . . He died. . . . I know it. . . . Leigh tensed her entire body in an effort to block out the terrible chant pounding in her brain. “I don’t know.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Leigh shook her head. “The police are doing everything they possibly can. Commissioner Trumanti has sent helicopters, squad cars, and detectives into the mountains to search for him.”

  “What about you? How are you feeling? Really?”

  “I’m stiff and sore, and I look like hell, but that’s all that’s wrong. Other than the fact that my husband is d—missing,” she corrected, struggling to recover from another tidal wave of despondency and grief.

  Jason fell silent, looking helpless and forlorn and completely empathetic, but only for a moment. His expression cleared almost immediately and he broached a topic that affected his own personal well-being and therefore was of maximum importance to him. “Do you think it would help you to come back to work soon?”

  “Physically, I could probably manage it next week—”

  “Fantastic! That’s my girl! You’re a trooper. I knew I could count on you to—!”

  “But not mentally,” Leigh interrupted emphatically. “I can’t think of anything except Logan. I wouldn’t even be able to remember my lines.”

  “They would come back to you the minute you stepped onstage.”

  “Maybe they would,” Leigh said, letting her gaze shift to Jane, “but I don’t have one bit of emotion left over to invest in them. You understand, don’t you, Jane?”

  “Perfectly,” Jane said. “I even tried to explain to Jason how you’d be feeling right now, but you know how all-important the play is to him.” To Leigh’s surprise, the actress actually seemed disgusted as she added bluntly, “Jason wouldn’t care if you were on life support, so long as they could unplug you and prop you up long enough to say your lines.”

  “That’s not completely true,” Jason said, looking stung. “I’d restage your scenes so you could say your lines lying down.” He paused long enough to take his martini glass from the tray Hilda was holding out to him. “I’m a selfish bastard,” he declared with an impenitent grin. “But you have to admit,” he added with a wink at Leigh, “I’m a brilliant selfish bastard.”

  Leigh assumed he was making a lame attempt to amuse and distract her, and she managed to give him a wan smile.

  With no verbal reply from Leigh to encourage further banter, Jason stopped talking about himself and regaled her with a discussion of his play’s fabulous reviews, box office sales, and lighting problems, and followed that with an irate description of his latest quarrel with the play’s director. Leigh let him talk, but his words never actually registered on her. Reclining against the arm of the sofa, she watched his mouth move, and she looked automatically toward Jane when the other woman spoke, but she had little idea of what they were saying and even less interest in it.

  When Jane finally stood up to leave, Leigh realized that she was going to have to deal with Jason alone, and she almost regretted the actress’s impending departure.

  “Robert and Lincoln asked me to give you their love,” Jane told her.

  Leigh hadn’t given a single thought to any of the actors in Blind Spot until that moment. “Please give them mine. Did Robert’s wife have their baby yet?”

  “Yes, a little girl.”

  In an effort to hasten Jane’s departure, Jason headed for the closet in the foyer, where Hilda had hung their coats. Removing Jane’s sable coat from its hanger, he held it up like a matador waving his cape. “Jane, you’re going to be late for the matinee!” He jiggled the coat for emphasis. “Darling, get your famous ass into your coat so you can get going.”

  “Has he always been this obnoxious?” Jane asked Leigh as she gave her hand a farewell squeeze.

  Startled by the undercurrent of genuine animosity in Jane’s voice, Leigh said, “He’s under a lot of stress right now. Don’t take it personally. He has a play with two strong female roles and only one established actress to fill them.”

  Instead of replying to that, Jane hesitated, glanced at Jason, and then said awkwardly, “Actually, I came here today because there was something I wanted to say to you, face-to-face. I want you to know that I am deeply sorry about your accident. I won’t pretend that I haven’t been dying to play your role from the moment I read Blind Spot, but I wanted to win the role on my own merit, not by default and not by tragedy.”

&n