Carla Neggers - Betrayals

“Gisela’s mother?”

“Yes.”

Rebecca drank some of her café au lait and let an ice cube melt on her tongue. “You got the stones from David Rubin?”

Jean-Paul grinned. “You’d graciously put me on the list of people to whom Sofi could relinquish them.”

“And you smuggled them into France.”

“The least of my difficulties getting here.”

“You know, I’d have given you the stones. You could have sold them if you’d wanted. They’re worth an incredible fortune.”

He shook his head sadly, his eyes distant. “That’s never been why I wanted them. They were Gisela’s, her prize possession-not even a possession. A gift. Her mother had never sold them, and neither had she.”

“So neither would you. The Louvre’s probably got a staff of hounds on your trail by now. They’ll get the whole story.”

“Good,” he said with satisfaction.

“You know,” Rebecca said, sitting back. “You could do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

She laughed. “I should hold you to that, but you’d better hear me out first. Grandfather’s been threatening to leave the Eliza Blackburn house to me-just what I need. I already own enough decrepit buildings. It needs new wiring, new plumbing, painting, fixtures… You could take me off the hook.”

“You’re not going to stay in Boston?”

“Nope. I haven’t paid my rent in two months-Grandfather’s probably drawing up papers to evict me now. I’m wrecking his cash flow.”

“Rebecca…”

“Don’t say no yet. Think about it.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve never had a father. And I promised Gisela-”

“There’s one thing you’re forgetting, and that’s Thomas. My grandfather. Your father. Think about him, Jean-Paul. Then make up your mind.” And she smiled suddenly, and jumped up, hugging him and ignoring all the peculiar looks they got, her the rich chestnut-haired young woman, him the battered, white-haired man who looked twenty years older than he was. “I’m glad you’re my uncle.”

Jared turned off his computer and gave up on trying to get any work done. He couldn’t concentrate. Back two days from Boston and all he’d managed to do was make a mess of every project he started. Mai was catching up on her homework and doing famously; she’d even started delivering papers and washing windows to earn the money to pay back her grandfather. Rebecca had sent them a postcard of the Eiffel Tower and scrawled on the back some nonsense about tumbleweeds coming to rest. Jared couldn’t see the correlation between Paris and tumbleweeds.

All he knew was that he missed her.

Feeling restless and out of sorts, he walked across his small yard and started fiddling with the pots of geraniums on the rail of his deck. He and Thomas Blackburn made a pair when it came to gardening. He pinched off a few yellowed leaves before he gave himself up to the spectacular view. San Francisco wasn’t Boston, but it was where he belonged. He couldn’t take Mai away from her friends, the only life she’d known-not now. If that meant losing R.J…

He couldn’t. He had to think of a way not to lose her.

Behind him, the wooden gate creaked open, but it was too early for Mai to be getting home from school.

“Don’t you ever worry about earthquakes?” Rebecca asked as she walked up onto the deck. “I’ve been in San Francisco two hours and keep waiting for the ground to start moving under me. Of course, Grandfather says he wouldn’t live in Florida because of the poisonous snakes and the alligators, but Papa O’Keefe says he wouldn’t live in Boston because of the blizzards. I guess it depends on your perspective.”

“R.J…”

She went on breathlessly, “You just have to decide what you can live with and what you can’t. I got used to snakes, alligators and blizzards. I can get used to earthquakes.”

She was putting on a grand show, but he’d known her since she was born and could see she was nervous. Having her there, close to him again, made his head spin. This was the woman he loved…would always love.

Without looking at him, she went over and sat in the rope hammock, giving it a little push with her feet. It was all Jared could do to keep from touching her. She was the one who had to make the trip west, who had to make the decision whether or not she wanted to be a part of his and Mai’s life…whether or not she was ready to settle down and understand that a kid had to be in school and he had professional commitments.

But he wasn’t altogether certain that if she asked him to fly off to the South Pacific, he wouldn’t pack himself and Mai up and go.

It was her show, and he let her talk.

“I figure,” she went on, “you live in San Francisco, you learn to nail down the furniture and not display the glassware.”

Jared leaned against the rail. “You planning to live in San Francisco?”

Her eyes-so blue, so gorgeous, so scared-avoided his. “Thinking about it. The Boston branch of my studio went out of business.”

“The Boston branch?”

“I’ve decided to open up a West Coast branch. I’ve got the design for my stationery and business cards finished.” She pushed off again, swinging gently in the hammock. “I’ll get them printed up as soon as I have an address. Not a temporary address, either. A real address.”

Jared was gripping the rail; he noticed his knuckles had turned white, and tried to relax. “You could afford to buy half of San Francisco-”

She looked at him-finally. “I don’t want half of San Francisco.”

“R.J.,” he said in a low voice, “you’re making me crazy.”

She pretended not to hear him. “All I want is a place to work-which is easy enough to come by-and a room with a view. You wouldn’t by any chance know of one of those, would you?”

“Rooms with views can be hard to come by in this city.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Have lots of money you don’t mind spending or know someone. Since you’re a Blackburn,” he said, straightening up to stand beside her feet, “and there hasn’t been a Blackburn born who likes spending money, I guess you’d better know someone-preferably,” he added, “someone who likes you a lot.”

“Aha. Guess who’s the only person I know in San Francisco?”

With one foot, he lifted up her toes and gave her a push. “Who?”

She grinned at him, keeping her feet up so she could swing freely. “You’re not going to make this any easier on me, are you?”

Jared shrugged. “I haven’t dumped you out of that hammock and carried you upstairs yet, have I?”

She looked at him in mock innocence. “Does your room have a view?”

That did it. He grabbed her on the upswing and pulled her into his arms, feeling the warmth and weight of her and loving her. She clasped her hands at the back of his neck and laughed. “Jared-I love you.”

“Good thing, because you know what?” When she shook her head, he held her close and said, “I love you. R.J., I’ve always loved you-I’ll never stop loving you. But, darling, my room doesn’t have a spectacular view.”

As it turned out, it just didn’t matter.

Thomas had enjoyed his trip to central Florida, particularly the groves and the ample screened front porch and the children-the masses of children. Jenny had reminded him there were only five great-grandchildren circulating about, but he counted his six grandchildren and their assorted spouses and sweethearts as part of the throng. Rebecca did turn up, with Jared and Mai-more heads to count. Thomas had surprised Rebecca by forgiving the two months back rent she owed him. He’d been in touch with Sofi, and Eliza’s vase had indeed brought him financial peace of mind. He was already in touch with the woman in Palm Beach.