The Champagne Sisterhood Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 Christine Baena

  Excerpts from The Homecoming, Copyright 2012 Christine Baena

  Cover Design by the Killion Group

  Developmental Edits by Vickie Taylor, Copy Edits by Denise Barker

  Formatting By Dallas Hodge, Everything But The Book

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, redistributed or transmitted in any form or by any means; print, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Author.

  Indie House Publishing

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This story would never have come together without the help of so many people.

  Thank you Marty, Wendy, Liz K and Janet for week after week, meal after meal, and from restaurant to restaurant, stopping me from rambling, reminding me to explain, and encouraging me to carry on. I could not have written this without you!

  This story especially required lots of input from patient people who know more than me. My heartfelt thanks to my friends from the HB: Doc for making sure I got the medical portions straight, and Jan for the legal input. Both of these women donated hours and hours of their time as I asked what if over and over. For the details of life as a merchandiser I have Vicki Batman to thank. She volunteered for a little business input and got roped into reading every chapter before I'd even had time to hit spell check. Any and all mistakes are mine and no reflection on the incredibly smart and talented people these women are.

  I'd be nowhere without my beta readers: Liz Lipperman, Kathy Ivan, Karen Chetty and Cheryl Lucas. I cherish you all. And I have to thank Susan W., Jessica F., and Jane G. for believing in me enough to take time out of their busy publishing careers to help me make this a stronger story.

  A special thank you to Liese Sherwood-Fabre for naming the sisterhood. It was the icing on the cake!

  Most of all I want to thank my mother for working so tirelessly on the bubbles and Uncle Gene for sending me off to enjoy the limelight of the Golden Heart awards. You rock!

  PROLOGUE

  Flashing lights grew brighter as more emergency vehicles arrived on the scene. One squad car, then another, two fire engines, the sirens of additional ambulances could be heard in the distance. At the beginning of the early morning rush hour, the chaos created by the mangled vehicles already had traffic backed up for miles.

  A police sergeant stepped out of his vehicle catching faint smells of burning rubber and gasoline. His gaze fell on the black Lexus sedan. The passenger side had completely crumpled like aluminum foil from the impact of another vehicle. The front end of the SUV across the way bore a strong resemblance to an accordion. “Idiot must have been flying,” he mumbled, slipping under the yellow tape closing off the area.

  Reaching the lead police officer on the scene, he tipped his head in the direction of the metallic mess. “What have you got so far?”

  “The driver of the SUV is on his way to the drunk tank.” The officer pointed with disgust to the police vehicle driving away. “Struck first on the passenger side by the SUV, the Lexus spun around and was struck again in the rear by the oncoming pickup, sending the Lexus straight into that pole.”

  The sergeant’s gaze traveled down the length of the utility pole now lying horizontally across the roofs of the two vehicles and most of the street. Telephone and electric wires dangled loosely across both sides of the pavement.

  “The Lexus took the brunt of the impacts.” The reporting officer glanced at the black clump of metal, and let out a small sigh. “It’s going to take a while before they can get those two out of there. The passenger is DOA but we can’t get close enough to the driver to determine status.”

  The roar from the Jaws of Life filled the air as rescue workers slowly peeled the car open like a tin can. Not far from the mangled car, an EMT whose face showed he’d seen one too many accidents like this, and his younger, more anxious female partner, waited for the signal. Both ready to spring into action. When the sound of cutting metal finally ground to a halt, with a nod from the fireman they raced to the vehicle, creating a new flurry of activity.

  Silence hung heavily as everyone waited for news, knowing it wouldn’t likely be good.

  Finally, the older EMT shouted from the torn vehicle to the rescue workers standing by, “She’s alive. Barely.” He scrambled to save the driver’s life as his young partner worked to extricate the deceased passenger for transport to the morgue. A soft thumping sound caught their attention. His partner gasped and all color drained from her face. He shifted, straining to see, his gaze finally settling on the rear seat. Leaning back he yelled over his shoulder to the cop standing nearby, “We’ve got a baby in here!”

  CHAPTER ONE

  “You can run, but you can’t hide. Not from me,” Anna Bartiglioni muttered into the receiver at the Italian version of Musak. Juggling the phone on her shoulder and ignoring the rumbling in her stomach, she flipped through several sheets of paper, meticulously highlighting every discrepancy between the ordered merchandise and the first received shipment. She’d taken her last antacid an hour ago.

  The oversized corner office she’d sweated blood and tears for offered postcard views of Central Park and the famed Plaza Hotel. Neither did much to brighten her day. This blasted deal was going to be the death of her. Junior had gone behind her back, signed on the dotted line and committed the House of Nobel‘s new Madam Nobel spring line to be produced entirely by a new factory outside of Rome.

  Nobel’s had been an anchor on Fifth Avenue’s avant-garde shopping scene since the doors opened in 1889. Except now, thanks to Junior, she had a boatload of garbage in her warehouse that wouldn’t be fit to distribute at Bernie’s Bargain Basement. If she didn’t straighten this mess out and fast, she might as well kiss her job goodbye and start peddling Gucci knock-offs on Canal Street.

  “Damn that irritating little...” Anna yanked her desk drawer open, rummaging for the third time in search of another bottle of antacids when a sharp edge pricked her finger. “Ow!” Sucking on the throbbing fingertip, with her other hand she pulled the offending object out into the light. The silver-framed photo made her smile.

  She’d almost forgotten. Her first day in the shiny new office. Babs had arranged for Kat and Erin to fly in and surprise her. When Anna walked into the office at seven forty-five that sunny Monday morning as the youngest Division Merchandise Manager in Nobel’s history, she’d been walking on air. When her best friends in the world stood waiting, arms raised, holding glasses of green champagne, Anna almost fell off her new Prada heels from laughing so hard. Her assistant, Liz, stood by, camera in hand, waiting to capture the moment. Before the day was over the photograph of the four friends laughing had been beautifully framed and meticulously placed on her desk.

  It hadn’t been long before the only personal object in the office was put aside to make room for another project. Now, not a speck of desktop was visible. Every inch was covered with files, drawings, swatches, samples, and one of the new factory’s deplorable creations.

  The phone still trapped between her ear and shoulder, Anna stared wistfully at the framed photo. Babs’ normally curly red hair was pinned up in a simple french twist. A touch of sophistication that came so easily to her. On the other hand, Kat’s long blonde hair hung over her shoulders nearly to her waist, making her look more like a California hippie than a Miami Latina. And Erin, named after the Emerald Isle itself, with her dark hair in a ponytail could easily pass for one of her student
s rather than the high school teacher she’d become. They all looked so happy.

  As soon as this latest snafu was behind her, assuming she still had her job, no matter how impossible the timing seemed, she was determined to make time for a vacation and visit her friends. Maybe they could meet up on a cruise again. Babs had talked them all into a group cruise after their ten year class reunion. Babs' Scottish heritage showed in more than her fiery red hair and brilliant green eyes. When it came to keeping her clan together, she was almost tyrannical in her insistence that nothing get in the way of the four of them escaping to have a little fun. Hard to believe over a year had gone by since their last outing. Not that they didn’t talk on the phone regularly, but it wasn’t the same.

  “Anna?” Liz peeked into the office.

  “It’s okay. I’m on hold. Still.” She turned her wrist to see her watch. At this rate she could probably catch a flight to Rome before anyone at the other end actually took her call. She hated that saving her job might come to that. She didn’t have time for a jaunt to Italy.

  “I’ve got a Mark Lambert from San Francisco on the other line.”

  Mark from San Francisco? “Oh, yeah, Tom and Babs’ friend. If I hang up now, Italy will hand me some malarkey about the switchboards closing. Get his number and tell him I’ll call back in a few.”

  “I already told him you were on an overseas call and couldn’t be disturbed. He insisted it’s urgent. He said to tell you it’s about Barbara Preston.”

  “I’ve only got about five minutes between classes.” Standing in the teachers’ lounge at East Dallas Senior High School, Erin glanced down at her watch.

  Kat Valdez chuckled into the phone. “Let me guess, you got to class this morning and found all the chairs facing the back wall again, and now you need to vent before you lynch the little darlings?”

  “Thanks for bringing that up, again. No, the chairs and my class are just fine, but I’ve got one of those feelings. I tossed and turned all night. No matter how much chamomile tea I drink, it won’t go away. I just know something’s wrong, very wrong, and I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Sorry, but it’s not me. Except for a leaky toilet and a somewhat irate roommate over the cancellation of his favorite TV show, I’m fine.”

  “I tried calling Anna before my last class. With her job I figured if any of us were likely to have something going wrong it would be Anna.”

  “She did go a little ballistic the time that freighter caught fire in the middle of the Atlantic and had to be towed, with her new fall line, back to Europe.”

  “Her assistant said she was on an important call and couldn’t be disturbed. If she’s fixin’ to skin some foreign polecat...”

  “Liz told you that?”

  “Not quite in those words, but I got the picture. Anyhow, I figure if Anna’s well enough to do what Anna does best, then it can’t be her, and I didn’t want to call Babs at seven o’clock in the morning. Since you’re on East Coast time, you’re next on my list.”

  “Gee, you always make me feel so loved.” The grin in Kat’s tone softened the sarcastic edge of her words.

  “Yeah, yeah. I guess I can scratch you off my list.”

  “I’m sure Babs is fine too. She’s probably got that new-mommy-not-getting-enough-sleep syndrome.”

  “I don’t know. This one’s just so strong it’s scaring me. I haven’t been able to eat a thing this morning. Derrick Keaton even brought me a creme-filled chocolate covered donut, and I haven’t been able to touch it.”

  “The kid with the rubber bayonet?”

  Erin laughed. “That’s the one. I think he’s catching onto the concept that scaring the hell out of a gal isn’t likely to win her heart.” She glanced down at her watch at the same moment the shrill of the bell for the start of class sounded overhead. “Blast, I gotta run. No time to call Babs now.”

  “Want me to call?”

  “No, I should wait a little while. If you’re right and there’s nothing seriously wrong, I don’t want to make Babs’ day any worse by calling too early. I’ll call after this next class.”

  “Let me know if it turns out to be anything more than a hangnail.”

  “Will do. Catch ya later.”

  Kat hung up the phone. Sitting at the kitchen table, her fingers back in place on the keyboard, she stared blankly at the screen unable to bring her thoughts back to her article about “Visiting St. Augustine Florida on a Budget”.

  A single file line of fuzzy yellow ducklings waddling across the patio caught her attention. Slowly, a fist-sized knot clenched in her stomach. If Erin was upset, anything could be wrong. One of Erin’s feelings could run the gamut from something as simple as knowing a loved one had been burglarized and was alone and upset, or something as serious as needing to rush someone to emergency surgery.

  Kat leaned back, remembering the burglary as clearly as though it had happened yesterday and not five years ago. She’d been alone in her trashed apartment, freaking out at the thought of a stranger’s fingers touching her stuff. When the phone rang, she nearly shot through the ceiling.

  “Are you okay?” Erin had asked in a rush, sounding more frazzled than Kat felt.

  After chatting with her intuitive friend for an hour and a half, Kat had felt a little less violated. By the time Erin had spread the word to Anna, Kat had almost forgotten anything bad had happened. When she’d gotten off the phone with Babs, she was packing for a much-needed girls’ weekend in San Francisco.

  Erin might be the second-sighted of the group, intuitively aware of whatever mischief abounded in their lives, and Anna the fighter ready to march into battle for those she loved, but Babs was the mother hen, making sure the family always found the time to come home. If Erin was right, and Kat didn’t doubt she was, whatever was happening, it was happening to Babs.

  Still staring out the window, Kat watched as mama duck dipped her webbed toe into the edge of the water before gliding across the small man-made lake. Like good little ducklings, the fuzzy little balls of yellow feathers followed mama’s lead, swimming away. She’d never tell her friend, but Kat had named the mama duck Babs.

  “You all right, Miss O’Hanlon?”

  Erin glanced up at the young man in front of her. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “You look a little...upset.” The handsome kid in baggy jeans that hung low on his hips leaned his book on Erin’s desk.

  “Just distracted.” She lifted a shoulder and shook her head. Jason was a quiet boy. It usually worried her when her students didn’t seem to have many friends, but Jason appeared to be content in his solitude. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he’d be the one to notice her mood. Touched by his still furrowed brow, she smiled despite the unease stirring inside her and watched him take his usual seat at the back of the room.

  “Y’all have ten minutes to go over your review sheets before I pass out today’s quiz.” The simultaneous groans that rumbled through the room would have been amusing if Erin weren’t so preoccupied. Something simply wasn’t right.

  Her grandmother always said the women in the family had a way of knowing when they were needed, some more so than others. Her mother always got the urge to telephone someone at just the right moment to offer comfort, support, or a ride to the hospital. Her grandmother was much the same, though she also often knew days before anyone else when someone in the family was about to pass on. Whatever this sight was, it seemed to have dwindled with her generation.

  All Erin knew was that she’d get a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach telling her something wasn’t right with someone she cared about. Didn’t matter if it was an irritating hangnail as Kat had teased, or a bellyache that struck at two in the morning like Babs’ appendix had done their sophomore year of college. Unlike her mom who knew straight away who to call and bypassed the nervous Nellies, Erin could spend an entire day, or longer, figuring out who and what had her all worked up.

  At least her friends didn’t think she was n
uts, despite having given her the nickname Taisch. Once during a visit to Dallas the summer after freshman year, her grandmother had told Erin’s friends the Irish had a name for those with second sight. Even though Erin’s premonitions were more a feeling than an actual seeing of the future, they’d begun to call her by the Gaelic word after Erin had awakened in a cold sweat an hour before Babs curled into a ball, screaming from the pain of a burst appendix. Her friends had quickly learned to respect whenever one of those feelings struck. She wished this one wasn’t scaring her so.

  In thirty minutes the class would be over and she could call California. Who knows, maybe Kat was right and it really was just a hangnail. The vise in her gut tightened. She looked past the kids’ grimaces to the clock on the wall. Twenty-eight more minutes.

  Barbara Preston - Babs. The phone slipped from Anna’s ear and landed in her lap. Her mind ran in a million directions. Anna remembered the last time her friend had seen fit to interrupt an important meeting. Babs had called to say the flight her parents were on had fallen off the radar somewhere over the Rockies. Oh God.

  With her heart racing at mach one, she retrieved the receiver from her lap and waved it at her assistant. “Take over the call to Italy for me, then patch Mr. Lambert through. And find me some Tums.”

  “Right away.” Liz stepped back, pulling the door closed.

  Placing her overseas call on hold, Anna took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders then pressed the button with the green flashing light. “Anna Bartiglioni.”

  “Hi, Anna. This is Mark Lambert.”

  “Yes, Tom’s friend. How are you?” She tried to inject a calm to her tone that she didn’t feel.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d remember.”