"CONSTANCE HOLLINGSWORTH" from Gossamer
Bio provided by author:
No matter who takes to the Gossamer stage, Constance Hollingsworth is somewhere pulling strings to make them dance. A publishing tycoon, Constance has built an empire, leaving her family to tend to itself. Well into life's twilight years, she now looks to correct that mistake. Her first step was to reunite with her daughter Dominique Carpenter, who was taken from her at birth.
In a fun, and sobering adventure, Constance and Dominique traveled back to Georgia, their place of origin, to look for old ghosts both had thought long dead. They found some answers, more questions, but most importantly, they found each other.
SCENE #1:
It was 1 p.m. when Constance Hollingsworth arrived at the motorized gate in front of Leyland Cross' home. She was surprised to learn the man lived in a large Tudor home rather than a hovel. His house and property, though not grand on the same scale as the Hollingsworth estate, were respectable. The community in which he lived was on what was considered to be the choice side of Gossamer Falls: the mostly undeveloped area west of the city.
Constance lowered her car's window and pressed the gate's intercom button. A moment later, Leyland Cross answered. "Mr. Cross, this is Constance Hollingsworth. I'd like to have a word with you if you can spare the time."
"Of course, Ms. Hollingsworth," came the response. "Please come in."
As the gate opened and Constance drove forward, she wondered what to expect from Leyland Cross. She'd just come from the Church of the Sacred Lamb where she'd given a $50,000 check to Father Greer, ostensibly for the church's missionary fund, but she was certain the priest knew the real reason was because of what he'd done at the manor. She looked up at the house before her. Leyland Cross had obviously not taken a vow of poverty. She wondered what the price of his silence would be.
She parked near the front door, exited the car, and rang the doorbell. The door opened almost immediately, and Leyland Cross stood before her, his glasses perched awkwardly on the bridge of his nose. What little red hair he had remaining was in disarray, lending the appearance that she'd roused him from sleep.
"This is a surprise," Leyland said, straightening his glasses. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"May I come inside?" Constance asked.
"Certainly! Goodness, where are my manners?" Leyland stepped aside and let Constance into the dark-paneled foyer.
"I'm here to settle my account," Constance said, reaching into her purse.
Leyland looked befuddled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Constance said irritably, pulling her checkbook from her purse, "to know how much I owe you."
"For what?" Leyland's eyes widened behind his rimless glasses.
"Let's not be coy, Mr. Cross. Just name your price."
Leyland's jaw dropped. "Ms. Hollingsworth! I don't accept money for the use of my gift!" he said indignantly.
"Then what do you accept?" Constance asked, examining the foyer's furnishings. "Fine art? Modern sculpture? Silk ficus?"
"I did not ask for this power, Ms. Hollingsworth, and I ask for nothing in return." Leyland's tone was icy.
"Very well, Mr. Cross. You will receive nothing for the use of your—gift."
"Thank you," Leyland said, the fire in his brown eyes diminishing.
"But how much do you require for your silence?" Constance asked.
"What are you talking about? My silence?"
"Your silence regarding the secrets you learned about me and my son. How much to ensure your silence in the matter?"
"Ms. Hollingsworth, I am offended!" Leyland's weak chin trembled with all the rage his five-and-a-half-foot frame could muster. "I do not want your money!"
"And I do not want to feel indebted to someone who could hold potentially damaging information over my head!" Constance glowered, green eyes narrowed to slits. "I am not leaving here until we've reached an agreement, Mr. Cross."
Leyland stared into her eyes for a moment, then looked down and sighed. "Very well. If that's the way you feel, there is something you can do for me."
Constance smiled mentally, but only the barest hint of the expression showed on her face. She'd known the man would want something from her. "Name your price," she said flatly.
Meeting her eyes, Leyland said, "I'd like a home-cooked meal."
"A what?" Constance was taken aback. Surely she couldn't have heard correctly.
"It may be something to which you're accustomed, Ms. Hollingsworth, but I haven't had a good home-cooked meal since my grandmother passed away. I spend a lot of time away from home, eating alone in restaurants. It gets lonely. I would appreciate a home-cooked meal and a few hours of companionship more than any amount of money you could give me."
Constance stared deep into the man's eyes. His face was inscrutable, but she had the strangest feeling that he was being completely honest with her. "That's all you desire?"
"That's it," Leyland nodded.
"There will be nothing further," Constance warned.
"Nothing further will be expected," Leyland said.
"Very well," Constance said, opening the front door. "You'll get what you wish, Mr. Cross."
Leyland said nothing as she got into her car and left.