La Fleur Rouge the Red Flower: The First Novel of the Stuart Trilogy

CHAPTER I

Hildy Swenson (nee Hilary Simone) drove along the Hollywood Freeway in her silver-blue, Jaguar convertible. Her dark, brunette wig which hid her natural, long blond hair was blowing in defiance. She fought back the tears that welled up in her soft, brown eyes, blinking to prevent fogging up the dark, horn-rimmed glasses she had recently bought to complete her disguise. Why did this happen to me? she asked herself repeatedly. Will I ever escape from Gregory Wilcox’s threats?

She thought back to the day when in desperation she had called her dear school chum, Jennifer Gordon, and told her she was moving from Arizona as soon as she could pack her things.

She had been writing, acting, and composing songs for a children’s show on a local TV station and had been quite successful, until one day the manager had called her into his office and, with no explanation, fired her. Her landlord evicted her from her apartment the same day.

Jenny, a beautiful, young black woman who was Hilary’s best friend, had experienced similar problems, although for different reasons, and Hilary knew she could trust her and listen to her advice. Jenny was the only friend she had confided in about the reason she had left Boston in such a hurry two years ago.

Jenny, she sobbed, it’s happening again. I’ve got to find a new location.

Hilary, come and stay with me in California. I have plenty of room, and I’d love the company now that Ken and I are divorced.

Thanks, Jenny, Hilary said, relieved. There’s just one thing. You may not know me when you see me. I’m wearing a dark wig and horn-rimmed glasses. And I’ve changed my name to Hildy Swenson.

There was a moment’s silence on the other end. What a great idea! Jenny exclaimed. How did you come up with the name?

Hildy is a childhood nickname, and Swenson is my middle name. Greg will never be looking for me under that name. What do you think?

Oh, Gregory Wilcox will never find you, Jenny agreed. I’m glad you finally realized he meant all those terrible threats. Don’t worry - it’s Hildy Swenson from now on.

And it had, indeed, been Hildy Swenson, to Jenny and everyone else she had met since then. No one would ever find out from her or from Jenny why she had fled from Boston. Not till the time was right.

She shuddered as she recalled that awful night two years ago when all her idealistic dreams had so abruptly come to an end.

It seemed so long ago, almost like a dream.

But what had followed was a living nightmare.

CHAPTER II

TWO YEARS EARLIER - 1954

It was a beautiful fall day in Boston. The kind of day every Easterner delights in. Sunny and warm, but without that awful humidity, with moisture so heavy and wet you could almost drink it. The air was crisp and crackling, bright and new.

Hilary sat in the window seat of her Queensbury Street apartment in Back Bay, her long, blond hair cascading over her shoulders. With a look of rapture she watched her brand new fiance walk down the street toward his car.

It was Hilary’s twenty-third birthday, and he had just given her a beautiful three carat diamond that graced the third finger of her left hand, and sparkled as brilliantly as the first star just poking its head through the early evening sky.

What a wonderful, handsome man I just got engaged to, she marveled. Gregory Wilcox, of the much respected, old Wilcox family of Beacon Hill. He was also the top composer and lyricist of musicals in the country.

She hugged her knees to her chin and sighed a big, satisfied sigh. How he must love me to give me this beautiful ring! He was everything she had ever dreamed of. Kind, honest, tall and strong, yet gentle. And oh, so attractive!

Hilary was of medium height, with the slender, delicate figure of a dancer, and the face of an angel. She had that unusual combination of blond hair inherited from her Norwegian mother, and soft, brown eyes which came from her father’s French background.

With stars in her eyes, she could just imagine what a perfect marriage she and Greg would have. Finally her dreams were coming true. Not only am I in love with the guy, but he can help me a lot with contacts for my writing and composing. What more could I ask for?

Hilary had been composing music since she was five years old, having inherited her unique talent from her mother, a brilliant concert pianist, who taught her daughter at an early age to read music and play the piano. Although Hilary was only twenty-three, she had become a gifted composer.

Greg had told her many times how much he admired her talent, and promised to help her break into the business. But she never dreamed that night only a month ago when she went to see him about a musical she had written six months before, entitled The Ginger Jar, that he would fall in love with her, although for her it had been a case of love at first sight.

Yes, everything looked rosy. She watched him as he reached his car and waved to her, his brown, wavy hair blowing softly in the gentle breeze.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Greg drove into the yard of his town house, parked his Rolls Royce in the underground garage, picked up his briefcase, and made his way to the first floor and into the den.

As he sat down at his desk he thought of the beautiful, large diamond he had just given Hilary. It had cost a lot, but it was well worth it. It was little enough to pay, he figured, for what he would be getting out of it.

He knew Hilary would say yes to his marriage proposal. He had bought the ring days ago in anticipation of this, and was confident he’d be taking no chance bringing it along with him this evening. After all, where could she meet another man as good a catch as he?

What a team we’ll make! he mused. As long as she’s at my side I’ll have all the material I’ll need for my new musicals. With her writing talent and my contacts there’s no end to the awards I’ll get! Hilary is just what the idea doctor ordered! Yes, he decided, she would be a great asset to him, and he moved in quickly to claim his prize. Greg always got what he wanted, no matter what means he had to use to get it.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored wall and gave his image a triumphant salute as he opened his briefcase and took out a thick manuscript.

* * *

Back in her apartment, Hilary was preparing for an appointment with one of Broadway’s top producers, Jay Stuart, who was visiting in Boston for a few days. She planned to show him her musical. It hadn’t been easy to get the appointment, but when she mentioned to his secretary that she was a friend of Greg’s that had paved the way.

She was puzzled that so far Greg had done nothing to help her make contacts, as he had promised, so she decided to make one of her own. Won’t he be surprised if I succeed? I’m sure he’ll be delighted.

Did she imagine it, or did Greg seem a little upset when she mentioned it on the phone earlier that day? She planned to tell him later if, hopefully, Jay liked it, but the excitement of it had been too much for her, and it had come tumbling from her lips before she could stop it.

Greg had seemed extremely anxious to take another look at it. Unusually so, she felt. Then she smiled. No, he just wants to double check to make sure it’s presentable before Jay Stuart sees it, she reasoned. What a dear man!

As she prepared to retire for the night she decided to get the script and music out ready to pick up first thing tomorrow. But when she looked in her files, it was gone.

A feeling of near panic swept over her. Where could it be? Then she remembered Greg’s desire to help her. He had asked to see the script before he left, but she assumed he had put it back in her files. Could he have taken it?

She picked up the phone and dialed his number, feeling somewhat reluctant to question him for fear he might think she didn’t trust him. I’ll bet he forgot about my appointment.

There was a busy signal on the other end. Who would he be talking to at this hour? It’s almost midnight.

After several tries, it rang and he answered.

Hi! Hilary greeted him. I’ve been trying to get you. She hesitated. Where did you put my script? I just looked in my files, and - uh - it seems to be missing. I need it for my appointment tomorrow.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Greg chuckled. I took it, he said. I wanted it to be a surprise, and I’m afraid you spoiled it.

Oh, Greg, I’m sorry! Hilary felt remorseful, and a little guilty that she had questioned him for even a moment.

I’m having breakfast tomorrow morning with Jay Stuart, Greg continued. He’s the producer I’ve worked with for so many years. You’ll stand a much better chance if I present it to him for you. If he likes it, you’ll have your foot in the door. That’s what you want, isn’t it?

Hilary was at a loss for words. How did I get so lucky?! Greg, thank you! I’ll cancel my appointment with him - -

Oh, there’s no need for that, Greg interrupted. I’ll take care of it for you. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.

Oh, thank you! Thank you! You’re so sweet to do this for me! I’m sorry about spoiling the surprise, she apologized.

That’s all right this time, Greg replied. But next time, trust me.

Oh, I will. I promise!

She hung up, full of hope.

CHAPTER III

Hilary had awakened the next morning with an excited feeling of anticipation. Oh, I hope Jay Stuart likes my musical! But why wouldn’t he? she reasoned. After all, Greg is presenting it to him, and that’s a huge plus! If Greg likes it enough to show him, that should convince Jay that it’s good.

She jumped out of bed and took the phone with the extra long cord into the bathroom. She stepped into the shower, full of hope. Greg had told her his appointment with Jay was at seven-thirty, and it was eight-forty-five now. He should be calling any minute.

She finished her shower, blow-dried her hair, and dressed. Still no call from Greg. She looked at the clock. Nine-thirty. The suspense was too much for her. She went into the kitchen to fix breakfast, but her hands were shaking so badly, she decided to go around the corner to her favorite coffee shop and let them wait on her. A little pampering won’t hurt. I need it right now. She grabbed her jacket and purse, ran a quick brush through her hair, and left.

The people at the coffee shop greeted her warmly. This was just what she needed to get her mind off of what she hoped was happening between Jay Stuart and Greg.

The breakfast was satisfying, and the coffee warm and comforting, as she occupied herself reading her newspaper and working the crossword puzzle. It was well after ten-thirty when she returned to her apartment. The phone was ringing as she entered the door. She rushed over and picked it up.

It was Greg. Hi, honey. Can you meet me at my place? It’s important. We have to talk.

Yes, Greg - what’s up?

I’ll explain it when you get here.

She thought he sounded nervous, and she wondered why.

I’ll be right there, she told him.

Hilary hung up the phone and tried to calm herself. She donned her jacket to ward off what was left of the morning chill.

Her hands shook with excitement as she grabbed her purse and rushed out the door. It seemed forever before she finally reached the spot where she had parked her car on the street last night.

Her anticipation mounted as she gripped the steering wheel and drove through the streets of Boston. Most of the parking areas were full, but she finally found one just two blocks away from Greg’s town house.

In spite of the fact that she was a very skilled driver, in her haste and excitement she had trouble herding her car into the small space. Obstinacy seemed to resist her every move. Finally it was neatly parked.

She turned off the ignition, put her keys in her purse, locked the car doors, and ran the two blocks to Greg’s home. In precisely twenty minutes from the time she left her apartment she rang his doorbell, breathless and anxious.

He answered right away and escorted her into his den.

Hilary sat in the easy chair and faced him. What did he say, Greg? Did he like it?

Greg smiled indulgently, as one would smile at a child’s first attempts, and his tone was condescending. He thinks it has possibilities, he told her, but it needs work.

Hilary felt her excitement and expectation mounting. Yes, but is he going to produce it? she asked him impatiently.

Well, here’s the scoop. He paused and cleared his throat. Hilary, you know that I’m an established composer and writer, and - well - Jay thinks that - He hesitated again.

Hilary’s eyes widened in fearful anticipation. He thinks what, Greg?

Well - - it presents a problem.

Hilary stared, tense, not knowing what to expect.

Greg tried to explain. You’re an unknown writer. And Jay feels it would stand a better chance of succeeding with - - with a known name on it.

Hilary felt a huge letdown. You mean your name.

Well - yes, Greg replied. He wants it to be a hit, and he said he’d produce it only if you agreed to this.

Hilary shook her head in disbelief. She rose from her chair and started pacing, then looked Greg squarely in the eye. And you said you’d go along with it.

It was a statement rather than a question. She stood there waiting for his answer, although she didn’t know why. She already knew what it would be.

Yes, I did. He sounded impatient. Hilary, you don’t understand the business. People will be investing their money in it, and they have to be sure it will be a hit. This is done all the time. It will just be temporary. I’ll do any rewrite that’s necessary, and it will be a start for you.

Hilary’s mouth fell open in surprise. A start for me? What kind of start would this be without my name on it? How will the public know I wrote it?

Greg sounded exasperated. He also sounded surprised, as though he hadn’t expected opposition. Well, he groped, they won’t right away. But if this is a hit, then they’ll be told. He paused as she hesitated. Hilary, it can’t become a hit if nobody comes to see it. I’m trying to be generous and offer to let you use my name. I’m taking a big risk here. What will happen to my reputation if it’s a flop? You could show a little more gratitude, he pouted.

As she sat there listening, an inner voice told her to be careful of what she said. He’s trying so hard to help me. I don’t want to sound unappreciative. Greg, she said, I’m grateful. Really I am. But you’ll have to give me time to think this over.

She rose from her chair and prepared to leave, trying desperately to control the fear and disappointment she felt - disappointment not only that things weren’t going as smoothly as she had hoped, but that Greg seemed suddenly more like a stranger than the man she had come to know and love.

She walked over to the door and put her hand on the knob. As she turned back, she noticed an odd expression on his face. Was he fearful of something? Of course! He’s afraid I’ll lose out if I say no!

The nagging doubt dissipated and her confidence in him returned. Poor Greg. He’s trying so hard to help me. Maybe he’s right, she rationalized. He knows the business better than I do. Her heart went out to him, and she walked back and put her arms around him.

Greg, please don’t think I don’t appreciate what you’re offering to do. I just need time to think. I’ll let you know.

She gave him a peck on the cheek and left.

But as she entered her apartment, the anxiety which had plagued her earlier returned. What should I do? The uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach told her she didn’t like this. It didn’t seem right to have someone else’s name on something she had written.

Oh, I’m sure it’s only temporary, but this whole thing doesn’t make sense. How are they going to produce it with Greg’s name on it, and then tell the whole world that I wrote it? The public would never trust him again, and she knew he wouldn’t risk that.

She went to the bay window and looked out. How she wished her thoughts were as clear as the cloudless sky she found herself staring at. I’ll call Jenny, she decided. She wanted to tell her about her engagement, anyway, and this was a good excuse to ask her advice at the same time.

She and Jennifer Gordon had been roommates in college, and Jenny always came up with the right solution whenever Hilary turned to her. Even though Jenny now lived three thousand miles away in California, they had remained close.

Jenny sounded breathless when she answered. Hello?

Jenny! I hope I didn’t call at a bad time.

Hilary? Hi! No, I was just taking my afternoon swim in the pool. What’s up?

Hilary could hardly wait to tell her. You’ll never guess! she exclaimed. I’m engaged to the most wonderful man!

Oh, Hilary! Jenny cheered. That’s great! Anyone I know?

No, but you’ve heard his name! It’s Gregory Wilcox! You know - he’s written all those great musicals!

Where in the world did you meet him? Jenny asked.

I went to see him one night about my writing, and we fell in love. Isn’t that exciting?

Jenny was quiet for a moment. Isn’t this kind of sudden? You didn’t mention him when we talked a month ago.

Hilary laughed. It sure is! It’s all happened so fast! I can’t believe it! Oh, Jenny, I’m so happy that an important person like Greg could love me! And he’s trying to help me with my writing. She paused, almost afraid to continue - - afraid that Jenny might say something to spoil the moment. There’s - - another reason I called. I - - I need your advice.

She took a deep breath, giving herself time to gather her thoughts and figure out how to explain the problem in a way Jenny would understand. When she finished, she wasn’t prepared for Jenny’s reaction.

Hilary - - how long have you known Greg?

Just a month. I told you.

How do you know you can trust him?

Hilary was stunned. The very suggestion was unthinkable! Jenny, this is Gregory Wilcox! The most famous composer of musicals in the world! Of course he can be trusted!

Jenny was silent for a moment. Well, did you want my advice or not? She sounded a little annoyed.

Hilary hesitated. Of course I want it. That’s why I called you. Jenny, what should I do? I don’t feel right letting someone else - even Greg - put his name on something he had nothing to do with. It just doesn’t seem honest. Of course - - she hesitated, trying to find an excuse for him - he did say he’d do some rewriting. Did Hilary detect a reluctance in Jenny’s attitude?

As usual, Jenny had just the right answer. Why don’t you call this producer? she suggested. What did you say his name was? Jay Stuart? Ask him if you couldn’t be billed as a collaborator. I’m really surprised Greg didn’t think of it.

A great sense of relief swept over Hilary. Thanks, Jenny! Why didn’t I think of that? I’m sure it was just an oversight on Greg’s part. I’ll call Jay Stuart right away and let you know what he says.

CHAPTER IV

Hilary reached for her address book where she had recorded the number of Jay Stuart’s hotel earlier. For only a moment she hesitated. Then, very decisively, she dialed the number. Doubts tried to crowd in, but she pushed them out. You know this is the right thing to do.

Room 212, please, she told the hotel operator.

It took only a moment.

Hello? she heard on the other end.

What a nice voice, she thought. Refined, gentle. For a moment she couldn’t speak.

Hello? Is anyone there? Jay asked.

Did Hilary detect a slight Scottish burr? She came to with a start. Oh! Yes! I’d like to speak to Jay Stuart.

Speaking. Who is this?

Mr. Stuart, it’s Hilary Simone.

Hilary! What happened this morning? I thought we had an appointment at nine o’clock.

Didn’t you get my message?

There was a pause on the other end. What message? I got no message.

Hilary was dismayed. "Greg Wilcox told me he’d take care