Genuine Lies Read Free Page A

was far from common knowledge that she had been adopted when she was six weeks old, and that nearly eighteen years to the day after had given birth to a baby boy whose father was listed on the birth certificate as unknown.
    Julia didn’t consider the omissions lies—though, of course, she had known the name of Brandon’s father. The simple fact was, she was too smooth an interviewer to be trapped into revealing anything she didn’t wish to reveal.
    And, amused by being able so often to crack façades, she enjoyed being the public Ms. Summers who wore her dark blond hair in a sleek French twist, who chose trim, elegant suits in jewel tones, who could appear on
Donahue
or
Carson
or
Oprah
to tout a new book without showing a trace of the hot, sick nerves that lived inside the public package.
    When she came home, she wanted only to be Julia. Brandon’s mother. A woman who liked cooking her son’s dinner, dusting furniture, planning a garden. Making a home was her most vital work and writing made it possible.
    Now, as she waited for her son to come bursting in the door to tell her all about sledding with the neighbors, she thought of the offer her agent had just called her about. It had come out of the blue.
    Eve Benedict.
    Still pacing restlessly, Julia picked up and replaced knickknacks, plumped pillows on the sofa, rearranged magazines. The living room was a lived-in mess that was more her doing than Brandon’s. As she fiddled with the position of a vase of dried flowers or the angle of a china dish, she stepped over kicked-off shoes, ignored a basket of laundry yet to be folded. And considered.
    Eve Benedict. The name ran through her head like magic. This was not merely a celebrity, but a woman who had earnedthe right to be called star. Her talent and her temperament were as well known and as well respected as her face. A face, Julia thought, that had graced movie screens for almost fifty years, in over a hundred films. Two Oscars, a Tony, four husbands— those were only a few of the awards that lined her trophy case. She had known the Hollywood of Bogart and Gable; she had survived, even triumphed, in the days when the studio system gave way to the accountants.
    After nearly fifty years in the spotlight, this would be Benedict’s first authorized biography. Certainly it was the first time the star had contacted an author and offered her complete cooperation. With strings, Julia reminded herself, and sunk onto the couch. It was those strings that had forced her to tell her agent to stall.
    She heard the kitchen door slam and smiled. No, there was really only one reason she hesitated to grab that golden ring. And he’d just come home.
    “Mom!”
    “Coming.” She started down the hall, wondering if she should mention the offer right away, or wait until after the holidays. It never occurred to her to make the decision herself, then tell Brandon. She stepped into the kitchen, then stood grinning. A step over the doorsill was a mound of snow with dark, excited eyes. “Did you walk or roll home?”
    “It was great.” Brandon was struggling manfully with his plaid muffler that was knotted and wet around his neck. “We had the toboggan and Will’s older brother gave it a really big push. Lisa Cohen screamed and screamed the whole way. When we fell off she cried. And her snot froze.”
    “Sounds lovely.” Julia crouched to work out the mangled knot.
    “I went—pow!—right into a snowbank.” Icy snow flew as he slammed his gloved hands together. “It was great.”
    She couldn’t insult him by asking if he was hurt. Obviously he was just dandy. But she didn’t care for the picture of him flying off a toboggan and into a snowbank. Knowing she would have enjoyed the sensation herself kept her from making the maternal noises that tickled her throat. Juliamanaged to undo the knot, then went to put on a kettle for hot chocolate while Brandon struggled out of his parka.
    When she looked back, he had hung up the