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Things were spiraling and Fern needed to get the game and the contestants under control. “Maire, I sympathize with you,” she said. “But if you insist on using your phone, you also forfeit the game. You will lose your chance at ten million dollars. Is that really what you want?”
Fern saw the bluster seep from Maire. “No. I don’t want to leave, but I have to know that Dani is okay. Please, Fern,” she begged, “help me.”
Fern could see how anguished Maire was. Maybe breaking one little rule wouldn’t be a big deal. Unless the other contestants found out. That would be chaos. Someone would call foul, say that Fern had given Maire an unfair advantage. She sighed and was just about to tell Maire she could use her phone, when she remembered something. She forgot to send out the press release about the elimination. Cat had been very clear. The email was to be sent out to all media outlets immediately after the vote was announced. “Dammit,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Maire,” she said shortly, “I have to deal with something.”
Maire shook her head in disappointment but didn’t argue any further. She turned and went back inside.
Fern watched the doors close behind her and then headed to the hedge maze. She crossed the manicured lawn, past the marble nymphs, and entered the maze. She didn’t worry about getting lost—she was familiar with every twist and turn. She sat down on a stone bench, the coolness penetrating her dress. Cat’s dress. Everything was catching up to her. She had thought she was so smart, so prepared. But she wasn’t. The fresh air felt good against her skin and Fern was glad to escape the villa for just a few minutes.
She pulled out Cat’s phone until she found the draft of the email that Cat had written in the event that the senator was voted off the show. The subject line read: One Lucky Winner says goodbye to Senator Richard Crowley.
The recipients included a wide array of media outlets: The New York Times, The Washington Post, People Magazine, US Weekly, Deadline Hollywood, Vulture, and dozens of others.
For immediate release:
The One Lucky Winner family would like to extend its warmest thank-you and gratitude to Senator Crowley for taking part in our groundbreaking new show. We wish him the best of luck in all his future endeavors.
Fern hit Send, hoping it wasn’t too late to make the evening news cycle.
Then there was a second email that Cat wanted her to send from an encrypted email address. The recipients were the same as the first email and the message was brief. Just one line.
Please feel free to utilize the attached documents as you deem appropriate.
Once again Fern hit Send, biting her lip as she tried to think of how to respond to Alfonso’s twenty unanswered texts to Cat.
Alfonso—enough already! Everything is FINE! Let me handle any liability issues. Everyone signed waivers. Just worry about doing your job and let me do mine. Or do I need to find someone else to do it for you?
There. That should keep Alfonso quiet for the time being.
Fern needed to turn her attention to the next day’s competition, the most challenging to date, but first she wanted to check on Cat. She opened the security video app and clicked on the feed that would take her to the wine cellar.
It was going on Cat’s second day of captivity and she sat on the large wooden box, knees pulled up to her chin, wrapped in a thermal pallet cover used to protect wine bottles from extreme temperatures during deliveries. On the floor were discarded water bottles and a nearly empty jar of snack mix. This had gotten completely out of hand.
The bigger problem though, Fern thought, was what Cat would do when Fern finally opened the cellar door to let her out. It was too late to claim locking her in was all a big misunderstanding. It was all such a blur now. Why had she been so impulsive? That was so unlike Fern.
Would Cat call the police? If she was lucky, no. Cat wouldn’t want the bad publicity. It would absolutely kill her if people found out that a lowly assistant managed to shove her in the wine cellar to hijack her show.
Fern guessed she probably wouldn’t go to jail, but she would definitely be fired. Year after year of grueling hours, crappy pay, grunt work, verbal lashings, all for nothing. But was being fired really a bad thing? She’d be out from beneath Cat’s thumb. She could make her own way in the world. Finally. Besides, Fern was now the face of One Lucky Winner. Cat couldn’t take that away from her. And who had made the show into an overnight success? Not Cat. The more Fern thought about it, the more she believed that Cat had to be the one who brought Ned Bennett to the villa. For what—ratings? No matter the reason, it was twisted. Maybe a little more time in the wine cellar would do Cat some good. It would teach her that she can’t play with people’s lives for her own advancement or entertainment.
But wasn’t that what Fern was doing right now? Playing with people’s lives? She didn’t like the thought and quickly pushed it aside.
Just one more night, Fern decided. Tomorrow evening after the next challenge, she would release Cat, greeting her with a warm robe, a steaming cup of coffee, and her favorite meal from La Toque, the Dungeness Crab Puffed Rice Bowl and two Meyer Lemon Squares. She’d pretend that nothing happened, that it was all an unfortunate misunderstanding.
Fern threw her head back and let out a long breath. What had she gotten herself into? Her phone buzzed, alerting Fern to a new text. It was probably Alfonso wanting to complain about Cat.
Fern frowned at the screen. The text wasn’t from Alfonso. It was from the driver that was taking the senator to the airport.
FYI—the senator bailed before we got to the airport. Jumped out just outside the estate. I’ve been driving around looking for him. Downed a bunch of whiskey. Was going on about The Daily Beast or something or other. What do you want me to do?
“Oh, shit,” Fern breathed, jumping to her feet. A new shot of adrenaline bulleted through her. Just what she needed. An angry, drunk politician roaming the countryside.
She quickly typed two words and hit Send. FIND HIM. She scurried out of the maze and across the lawn, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. Above her, the gargoyles stared down from their perches. What could they see that she couldn’t? Was the senator out there on the grounds, lying in wait? Would he try to finish what he threatened?
Fern dashed up the stone steps, glancing over her shoulder, half expecting the senator to come lurching out of the mist. Once at the top, she stopped to catch her breath. She needed to stay focused and remain in control. What would Cat do? she asked herself. Cat wouldn’t have let this happen in the first place. She pushed through the front doors and into the courtyard, immediately feeling better sheltered inside the villa. The anxiety began to seep from her body, her muscles loosening, her breath steadying. She would shower, check in with the driver to make sure the senator was accounted for, and then get some much-needed sleep.
She walked beneath the bell tower, taking a moment to appreciate the earthy smell of rosemary and the piercing lemon scent of witch hazel in the herb garden from just outside the open-air windows. Tomorrow will be better, she thought. The shadows in front of her shifted and she caught the whiff of something different. Fern’s pace slowed until she came to a stop. Someone was there in the dark blocking her entrance into the villa. The sweet, unmistakable smell of bourbon curled around her head, and she knew. After ditching the driver, he must have backtracked to the villa and lay in wait while Fern was down at the hedge maze. Fern inched her way backward, dared a look over her shoulder. If she turned and ran, she might be able to get away.
“I told you this wasn’t over yet,” the senator slurred. And Fern knew it was too late.
