Lavender Can Be Extremely Sexy

"Mother, what are you doing?" Tyler stepped over a pile of discarded clothes thrown on the carpeting in his mother's bedroom.

"I'm trying to find something pretty to wear," Mavis called from the depths of her enormous walk-in closet. She emerged moments later wearing a bright pink dress that Tyler thought made her look like a walking stick of cotton candy. "What do you think?"

"You look very...pastel."

"Is that good or bad? I want to look sexy and I thought pink was a little more subtle than the usual black. Does pink look sexy to you?"

Good grief, his mother was acting him if she looked sexy! Tyler felt his ears start to buzz. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I came up here to tell you I'm going out for dinner."

"With little Miss Girl Reporter?" Mavis squinted at her reflection. "Maybe I should try lavender. Lavender can be extremely sexy."

"No, Mindy's busy tonight. I'm going out with some friends. Where are you going?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, you're obviously getting ready to go somewhere special. What are your plans for tonight?" Tyler had no idea why he was even asking his mother what she was up to since he really didn't want to know. It probably had something to do with her newest boyfriend and considering the weird mood she was in, she just might tell him what she had planned and he was pretty sure that he couldn't handle that kind of intimate information. "Never mind. Have fun."

"What's your hurry? I'm not doing anything tonight. I thought I'd go to the club."

"Alone?" Impossible. His mother never went anywhere alone.

"I was thinking of asking Rosanne to join me?"

"Rosanne who used to work for us?" Now there was something strange going on. His mother would never go out with their former maid, not unless she was trying to get something out of Rosanne. "Why?"

"Why not? Rosanne worked for us for ages. We're pals." Tyler noticed how his mother almost choked on the word. "Besides, I don't have anyone else to go with."

"Say hello to Rosanne for me. I'll see you later."

Walking down the stairs, Tyler wondered why his mother hadn't asked him to join her for dinner instead of going out with Rosanne. She hadn't even seemed all that interested in what he was doing, another oddity.  Something was definitely up. He only hoped that he didn't find out what it was anytime soon...

Schuyler Square Day 83 Chelsea is Very Forgiving

"I've decided what we should do," Peter Van Husen told his wife Chelsea. "I think you should have the baby and give it to Mavis and me to raise."

They were sitting in Chelsea's kitchen, once Peter and Chelsea's kitchen but now Chelsea's alone. Chelsea was surprised to see that Peter looked as if he no longer belonged in the room. She had decorated with a country motif and Peter, in his cashmere sweater,fancy slacks and expensive haircut looked decidedly out of place with her chicken patterned wallpaper.

Chelsea snorted. "I'd rather leave this baby in the woods and let wolves raise it before I let that happen. Are you serious? You think I'd let you and that Jezebel raise my child? What am I supposed to do while you two are playing Mommy and Daddy? Sell Amway?"

"Chelsea, be reasonable," Peter requested. "Mavis has more money than either you or I could ever dream of having. She could give this baby an exceptional life--private schools, ivy league college, vacations in Europe-what can you offer the baby except mediocrity at best?"

Chelsea was crushed. "That 'mediocrity' was enough for you for years and years," she reminded her estranged husband. "I don't recall either of us being born with silver spoons in our mouths and we turned out all right."

"You want that for this kid--just 'all right' when we could offer him the world on a string?"

"There's more to life than money, Peter."

"I know that. I also know that being rich is way more fun than being poor. Mavis has shown me that."

Chelsea looked at Peter. Since moving in with Mavis he'd put on weight and his face was puffy, his waistline a little paunchy. The lean, handsome man she remembered was looking more and more like a gigolo with every passing week but Chelsea forgave him for that. Once he moved back in with her, the gigolo look would fade along with all of his memories of being rich and locally famous by proxy. "Mavis Schuyler will never raise my child," she said flatly. "Not that she'd ever want to. Does she even know we're pregnant?"

Peter looked pained. "You're pregnant, not me."

"Well, I didn't get in this condition by myself." Chelsea felt her face suddenly flush as she recalled the one night stand of revenge sex she'd had with Peter's co-worker. There's no way anyone could be this baby's father but Peter. What are the odds that your five minute fling resulted in mommyhood? About a zillion to one.


"What do you want from me, Chelsea? I'm not coming back."

"Then I expect you to be there for our child. Even if you don't love me anymore, you still have a responsibility, Peter."

"I know that and I plan on being there for our child. It's just that you'd make it much simpler if you'd let me raise the baby in Schuyler Manor."

"So you think you're going to be staying there for the long haul?" Chelsea questioned. "I've heard that Mavis is seeing Mario Ponti. They were seen being quite chummy while he blew out her hair."

"Who the hell is Mario Ponti?"

"Only Schuyler Square's best hairdresser."

Peter frowned. "You mean that little guy who wears the red jumpsuits? You've got to be kidding He looks like a garden gnome!"

Chelsea enjoyed watching the irritation mount in Peter's face. "Mr. Mario is quite sexy," she informed him. "All the women have crushes on him but he's no dummy. He always goes for the ones with bucks--like Mavis."

Peter got to his feet. "I can see this conversation is going nowhere fast. Think about my offer, Chelsea. It won't be on the table forever." He stomped out of the back door. From her chair, Chelsea watched as he got into his truck and roared off. Patting her slightly rounded stomach she said in a soothing voice, "Not much longer, baby, and Daddy will come back to both of us."

Schuyler Square Day 70 Peter Settles In

Sitting in a large leather recliner, a glass of cognac in one hand and a fancy television remote control in the other, Peter Van Husen sighed with pure happiness. All he needed was a cigar and someone to rub his feet and he'd be in heaven. There was no doubt about it: Peter liked living in Schuyler Manor. Who wouldn't? The house was huge, there was a full-time maid who brought him BLT's around the clock and he was with Mavis whenever he wasn't at work. Of course, he also had to deal with Tyler and Tiffany but Tyler seldom came out of his room except to sneer at Peter every so often and Tiffany had set up permanent residence in the den where there was a gigantic television set and a bar stocked with junk food. From what Peter could tell, none of the members of the Schuyler family liked spending much time together. They all seemed to prefer alone time.

Even Mavis.

Peter frowned, his cloud of happiness deflating just a little. Two weeks had passed since he'd moved in with Mavis and while Peter loved his new lifestyle he had the feeling that his new other half wasn't quite so sold on the idea. Mavis had begun making snipping comments about where he dropped his socks at night and rolling away from him in bed much too often. It had gotten to the point where Peter felt the need to remind Mavis daily that she'd been kidnapped and that his being there was not only for fun between the sheets but also for her protection. Mavis seemed to be buying that line less and less. Just that morning she'd pointed out that there was a top notch alarm system in her house and that if anyone did try to kidnap her, he or she would have to get past Rosanne, Tyler and Tiffany to do it.

Peter tried not to take Mavis's less than subtle hints personally. She'd been through a lot with Ron so naturally it was going to take her a long time to really and truly trust him and to believe that he wasn't going to run around on her the way Ron had. He wasn't that kind of a man. Well, maybe Chelsea wouldn't agree with him but that was different. Chelsea had gotten boring over the years; Mavis could never be boring.

"Peter?" Tiffany came into the library, surprising him. "Where's Aunt Mavis?"

"She's taking a bath. Why?" Peter eyed Tiffany a little suspiciously. Although the teenager was a lot easier to take than Tyler, she still wasn't anyone he'd want to be caught on a sinking boat with. The kid had the survival instincts of a shark.

"I need to borrow her car."

"You'll have to wait and ask her."

"Can't you just tell her?"

"Tiffany, I can't make that kind of a decision for your aunt. Why don't you borrow Tyler's car? I think he's home tonight."

"Tyler needs his car. Why don't you let me borrow your car? I'm just going to the mall."

"Sorry but I don't think so. You aren't on my insurance."

"So who's going to know?"

Peter had to admire Tiffany's nerve. The kid had hit her own mother in a car accident, had a stack of moving violations half a foot high and she thought he'd loan her his car? Not likely. "No, Tiffany. I don't loan my car to anyone."

Tiffany perched on the arm of the sofa and stared at Peter. He shifted a little uncomfortably under her gaze. He always had the feeling that Tiffany was about to say something to him, to accuse him of something and to do her best to humiliate him right out of the house. "Did I ever tell you about the time that I just happened to be in the square downtown one night and I just happened to see you and Aunt Mavis making out in your car? It was quite shocking, really pretty disgusting. I wanted to tell Uncle Ron about it but I didn't want to upset him." Tiffany smiled sweetly. "I never told anyone."

"Well, there really isn't anyone for you to tell now," Peter pointed out. "The whole town knows that Mavis and I are a couple."

"True," Tiffany agreed, "but your wife might like to know how long your little affair with my aunt has been going on. It might be some good ammo for your divorce."

Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. "Be back by ten."

"Thank you, Uncle Peter. I can see why Aunt Mavis is so crazy about you." Tiffany grabbed the keys and scooted out of the room.

"Be sure you put gas in it!" Peter called after her. He returned to his cognac and took a bracing sip. It was a good thing he never had any children with Chelsea. He really didn't like kids.

"Mr. Van Husen?" Rosanne appeared in the doorway. "Your wife is here to see you."

Schuyler Square Day 47 The Body in the Kitchen

Peter Van Husen was the first person to reach the scene of the crime. He felt a surge of adrenalin rush through him, far more than a trained police officer ought to be experiencing but in his gut he knew who he was going to find lying in the kitchen—Mavis. She had been kidnapped the week before and whoever grabbed her had obviously finished off the job in the Schuyler Square Country Club kitchen, a tray of crab puffs probably dangling precariously on the counter above her head.

Nausea swept over him. If Mavis was dead, he had a pretty good idea of who had offed her: his wife.

Pushing open the double swinging doors, Peter rushed into the large room, his attention focused on finding the victim. Hoards of people poured in after him dressed in tuxedos and formals. For an insane moment it reminded him of the board game Clue and Peter had to fight back a strong urge to start laughing. The whole scene was surreal with police officers swarming into the room, knocking over plates and pans as if they were bloodhounds chasing an extremely fresh scent which, Peter supposed, they were.

Peter screeched to a halt in the center of the kitchen, his blue eyes darting around the space but coming up empty. There were no blood spatters, no bullet holes, no Mavis lying on the black a white tile floor with a butcher knife sticking out of her designer dress. “Where is she?” he shouted.

The caterer who had screamed about the body scurried up next to him, her round face contorted with fear. “In there!” she said, pointing toward the walk-in freezer. “We forgot to get the ice sculpture out so I went to get it when I tripped over something. I looked down and saw—“ She put her hands up over her face as if to block out the image of the murder victim. Peter patted her well-padded back. “It’s OK,” he said as he tried to find the nerve to enter the freezer. He so didn’t want to see Mavis dead. He hated seeing any victim of a violent crime but Mavis—the afternoons and evenings they’d spent together rushed back to him—so many stolen moments in hotel and motel rooms, so many erotic events in hot tubs and saunas. Now they were over and he knew he’d never find another woman like Mavis again. There wasn’t anyone else like her.

Forcing himself to move steadily, Peter crossed the kitchen to the door of the walk-in freezer and pulled it open. The caterer had been right. There was a body lying on the floor. Peter took in the prone figure, his mind instantly searching for clues of how the victim had died and who might have done it.

“What’s happening?” A fellow police officer appeared at his side. “Dear God,” he breathed. “Someone’s killed Ron Schuyler.”

Schuyler Square Day 46 The Policeman's Retirement Ball Goes On

Tom didn't seem exactly shocked by her revelation. "I didn't surprise you, did I?"

Tom shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "I suppose I figured out that Kirk was Ron's son a long time ago. What did surprise me is that you were ever involved with someone like Ron. You're so...nice and he's such a--"

"Jerk?" Veronica suggested.

"For lack of a more colorful adjective," Tom agreed. "It's none of my business, but how did it happen?"

Veronica shrugged. "What can I say? I was young and stupid and he was older and manipulative. Believe it or not, I thought I loved him."

Tom was too polite to agree totally with her. "Like you said, you were young. So what are you going to do now? Are you hoping the two of them well develop some kind of relationship? You probably already know that Ron has never been nominated to be Father of the Year. He's always pretty much ignored his other kids and it shows. The older one turned out just like him and the younger one is afraid of his own shadow.”

Veronica made a face. “To tell you the truth I don't know what I want now. At first I was all about revenge. I had lost my job in Minneapolis, Kirk was writing a novel and not bringing in a regular salary, we were about to lose our house and it dawned on me that perhaps Kirk’s dad should be kicking in some money after all these years. But then I came back here and Ron found me a job and a place to live and was fairly decent about it all. I must still be stupid because that seemed like enough to me.”

“You’re not stupid and don't forget the house he's renting to you was never a hot commodity on the market. There was a murder committed there."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"A murder that Ron might have had something to do with."

"Why are you saying that? What do you have against Ron?"

"Plenty on a business level but on a personal level it sounds like you might still be in love with Ron Schuyler. That bothers me because I think I'm falling in love with you too.”

“Are we having fun?” Chelsea Van Husen joined them, bouncing into their conversation like a giant rubber ball. Veronica smiled at her friend, trying not to look shocked as she took in Chelsea’s outrageous outfit and even more outrageous hair color. Poor Chelsea. She was trying so hard to get her husband’s attention that it was almost painful to watch. “It’s a fabulous party, isn’t it? Peter and Mavis did a wonderful job. Have you seen Mavis tonight? She looks stunning! Everyone looks stunning—the men, the women—even the bus boys look stunning!”

Chelsea was babbling, something Veronica had never heard her do. Chelsea was usually the epitome of calm and collected. There was an odd look in her eyes too—she was so fired up that she seemed close to manic. “Would you like to get something to eat, Chelsea? Or have some champagne?”

“Oh, no—I’ve got to find Peter. I have to tell him something—it's very important--I'll see you two later—“

Chelsea vanished into the crowd. “What’s the matter with her?” Tom asked. “She’s acting higher than a kite.”

“She probably feels like a fool since everyone in town knows about her husband and Mavis Schuyler.” Veronica cringed. “Just like everyone knows about me and Ron and our son.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Tom suggested. “Let the past go. You can’t change it. Focus on your future instead--”

A scream interrupted him as a woman wearing a white catering outfit suddenly ran into the crowded ballroom. She stopped in front of the band and began waving her arms frantically. “There’s a dead body in the kitchen!” she screamed. “Somebody do something!”