Craig was met at the front door of the hotel by the black-jacketed valet that gallantly opened the chrome and glass door and wished him a practiced “Enjoy your stay.” Craig strode across the lobby floor and stabbed the up button on the elevator panel. He was more than two hours late for his sit-down with his team. He hadn’t intended to be gone as long as he had, and neither had he intended to be so affected by a simple kiss. The entire ride back from Jewel’s home to the hotel his thoughts leapfrogged each other, never allowing him a moment to catch them and try to figure out what he was thinking and feeling.
“Well, there you are,” Anthony greeted him the moment Craig entered the suite. “Thought you’d forgotten all about us.” He eyed Craig for a response.
“Yeah, sorry for the delay. Got caught up.” He avoided Anthony’s pointed stare and shrugged out of his lightweight leather jacket and tossed it on a chair. “Where are we with things?”
“Everyone has arrived, and we were working out the shooting schedule. The primary actors, Milan and Hamilton, arrived about an hour ago. They’re getting settled in their rooms.”
Craig nodded, taking in the information. “Cool. I want to have a sit-down with the primaries in about an hour.”
“Sure.” He paused. “So...how was lunch?”
“Filling.” His cell phone chirped in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw his sister’s name on the screen. He blew out a breath. “Gotta take this.” He pressed the talk icon. “Hey, sis.” He turned away from Anthony and crossed the room to the window. “How are you?” He didn’t have to wait long for his sister to read him the riot act.
“Why do I have to read about you being back in town? You couldn’t call?”
Craig briefly shut his eyes. He knew his sister. And when she went on a tear, she didn’t stop until she was beyond satisfied. “Sorry, sis. I’ve been crazy busy from the moment we landed.”
“Lousy excuse,” she groused. “So,” she puffed into the phone. “How are you and where are you staying?”
He held back a smile, envisioning his petite sister’s dark eyes cinched at the corners and her mouth in a tight, disapproving line. As the youngest of the three and the only girl, Alyse learned early that she had to be just as tough if not tougher than her big brothers and be able to stand toe to toe with their father.
“I’m fine, thanks, sis. And I’m staying at the Marriott in the Quarter.”
“Fancy,” she teased. “So I’m free this evening. I can meet you at your hotel.”
Craig knew that, much like him, the word no didn’t factor into Alyse’s vocabulary. He exhaled slowly. “Sure. How about eight?”
“I’ll see you then. Myles is out of town, by the way. But he should be back by the weekend.”
“I’ll be sure to give him a call.”
The elephant sat between them. Their father. Thankfully Alyse didn’t bring him up. Craig was not in the mood to discuss their father at the moment, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid the conversation later. “Look, sis, I gotta run. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Fine. Looking forward to seeing you, Craig,” she said, her tone finally softening.
“Me, too, sis. Later.” He disconnected the call, shook his head and slid the phone back into his pocket. The sound of voices and activity drew his attention to the main room. Milan Chase had arrived, and one would think that his crew had never been in the presence of a movie star with the way they tripped over each other to introduce themselves.
Milan Chase was the epitome of classy, sexy beauty, but more than that she was an incredible actress who knew her worth down to the last penny and who had two Golden Globes and an Oscar nomination to her credit. Not only was she good at what she did on camera, she was an astute businesswoman who was notorious for tough negotiations for all of her contracts. Even her lawyers deferred to her. He’d had brief reservations in casting Milan for the lead role. Not because of her ability, but because of their history.
Craig entered the open living space, and like the parting of the sea, his crew moved aside as he strode toward Milan.
“Glad you got here safe and sound,” he said in an intimate tone. He took her hands in his and kissed her right cheek then her left.
“Craig,” she said in her patented throaty whisper. “Good to see you again.” Her lashes fluttered for an instant.
“You, too. How are your accommodations?”
“Perfect.”
“Good.” He released her hands. “I was in the midst of planning a meeting in about an hour. You good with that?” He slung his hands into his pockets.
“Absolutely. I’m anxious to get started.”
Craig nodded. “You can hang out here or wait in your room until we’re ready. Up to you.”
“I might as well stay, get familiar with the crew.”
“That’s fine.” He patted her shoulder and started to move away.
“Craig...”
He glanced over his shoulder then turned. “Yeah?”
Milan stepped closer. “Are you free later tonight?”
His eyes widened for an instant. “Tonight? Actually, I have plans.”
She lowered her gaze then looked directly at him. “Tomorrow night, then.”
He cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, let you know. Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. I thought we could catch up for old times’ sake.”
He rocked his jaw. The last thing he needed was to rekindle the embers with Milan, but he didn’t want her as an adversary, either. “Maybe we can do drinks,” he offered to appease her. “How’s that?”
“Sure.” She flashed her movie star smile. “Drinks sound fine.”
“Craig...”
He turned toward the sound of his name. “Duty calls. Check you later.” He walked over to Anthony.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Looked like you needed rescuing,” Anthony said under his breath.
“You noticed that, huh? Thanks.”
“I let everyone know to be in place for the meeting. The main thing is the shooting schedule for week one. Everything cool with the location?”
“Yes. I have some adjustments to make to the contract and I’ll get it signed.”
Anthony’s right brow rose. “You? Paul or Diane can do that.”
“I’d prefer to handle it myself.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Don’t, okay? It’s not like that.”
“Hey, my man. It’s your party. All I ask is to keep the fireworks to a minimum.”
Craig slapped Anthony’s back. “No worries.” He caught a glimpse of Milan out of the corner of his eye. He hoped that sentiment would remain true. “Got a call from Alyse.”
“You knew that was going to happen.”
He snorted a laugh. “Yeah. Meeting her later tonight at the hotel bar.”
“Public place. Good move,” he teased.
“Very funny.”
“Well, you know how Alyse can be.”
“That I do,” he conceded good-naturedly. He pushed out a breath. “Soon as Hamilton gets here, we can get started.”
“In the meantime, let’s go over a few things for the shooting schedule and the staffing.”
“Sure.”
“So what about your pops?” Anthony hedged once they were seated at the round table away from the team.
Craig looked up from the notes on the iPad. “What about him?”
“Guess that answers my question.”
“I hope so.”
* * *
Jewel finished packing up the bakery boxes filled with cupcakes for her client’s daughter’s sixteenth-birthday party. She tied each box with her signature lavender bow and tucked a business card in each one. She had to admit that over the past few months the requests for her baking services had increased considerably. As it currently stood, she had the space in her kitchen and the time on her hands to efficiently complete her orders. But she wasn’t too sure how long that efficiency would last at this rate. The extra income wasn’t enough for her to sit back and relax, but it did help. Maybe Minerva was right and this was her next career move, which shifted her thoughts back to her lunch and conversation with Craig. It was exhilarating and simultaneously disheartening to listen to his unwavering passion for his work. She’d had that once. And had anyone asked her five years earlier if she ever saw anything different in her life, she would have responded with a flat-out no.
The past five years had been hard, harder than she often admitted even in the quiet of her own mind. There were those days when she missed the travel, the work, the accolades, the excitement of creating something from nothing, allowing her imagination to become a physical reality.
There were times when she’d questioned her decision to leave that life behind her, to throw in the towel, so to speak. Yet, even after all this time, her fall from grace still stung.
It was a New York showing. The promotion leading up to her gallery opening had been in every art magazine, newspaper and blog and on the lips of every reputable critic in the business. The buzz in the art world was near deafening in anticipation of Jewel Fontaine’s new work. Rumor had it that she had taken a departure from her traditional oil painting and classic sculptures to something more avant-garde and edgy. It was a risk. But the artistic visionary in her guided her in a new direction.
She’d always been anxious on opening nights, but this night was different. She was actually scared. Her personal assistant, Mai Ling, had spent the better part of the day convincing her that the fans and the critics would love it.
“You’re a brilliant artist, Jewel,” Mai said. “You’ve carved a solid reputation for excellence, and one show is not going to change that. The work is phenomenal, and anyone with a grain of sense will see it. So stop worrying. It’s going to be fine.” She gave Jewel a reassuring hug. “I put your outfit on the bed. The car will be here to pick us up at six. You have an interview with Art Digest and the reviewer from the Times. Then it’s on to the after-party.”
Jewel pushed out a breath. She didn’t know what she would do without Mai. Efficient wasn’t a word that did her justice. “Great. And you have the car to pick up my father from the airport?”
“Of course. I don’t want you to worry about anything beyond looking beautiful and talking about your work.”
“I’ll try. Is Simon coming?” she asked with an edge of doubt in her voice.
Mai’s lashes fanned her eyes. “He didn’t RSVP,” she said softly. “But you know Simon. He never was one to follow protocol.”
Jewel knew that Mai was attempting to ease her angst, but the truth was her on-again, off-again relationship with Simon Devareau had been switched to the off mode for weeks. Simon was a writer and arranger for some of the biggest names in the music industry, and his time and talent were always in demand. He was a temperamental musical genius who could go for weeks, sometimes months without seeing or talking to her when he was in the throes of composing new work.
They’d met on the beaches of Rio two years earlier and had hit if off almost instantly. She was magnetically drawn to his brooding good looks and his passion for his work. They shared many things in common, the arts being one and mind-blowing sex the other. They spent endless hours discussing their work, sharing ideas, sparking others. But Simon always maintained an invisible wall, one that she was never able to penetrate. She wanted more. He knew it, and the wall grew thicker and higher. Their times apart became longer, the silences louder. Jewel wanted it to work. She believed that there was room in their lives for each other and the work. Simon didn’t say it in so many words, but his actions spoke volumes—his work took priority. Period. And the harder she tried to make him cross the line, the harder he pulled away. She knew it was a mistake to hope that he would be there for her big night, but she couldn’t stamp out her need to want him with her.
“I’m going to head over to the Guggenheim and make sure that there are no last-minute glitches, then I’ll meet you back here no later than five so that I can get ready.”
“Thanks, sweetie. Call me if there are any problems.”
Mai gave her an are you kidding me look, shook her head and walked out.
* * *
When the limo pulled up in front of the Guggenheim Museum, it was a scene right out of Oscar night. The red carpet led from the street up to the front entrance to the museum. Reporters and photographers lined the roped-off entrance, and the instant Jewel stepped from the limo behind Mai, the flash of lights from cameras and cell phones and the shouting of her name rose in a cacophony of light and sound. The reception was overwhelming, and Jewel’s stress level skyrocketed. She did her best to keep her smile in place as she walked the carpet, stopping every several feet to take a picture or answer a quick question. Finally they made it inside.
The Ronald O. Perelman Rotunda designed by the iconic Frank Lloyd Wright could hold fourteen hundred people for a reception and three hundred for a sit-down dinner. Even Jewel gasped at the opulence of the space that was strategically lined with her latest work, set off by the polished glass and chrome of the event space and marble floors. Circular linen-topped tables with white votive candles as centerpieces were arranged to the side of the space to accommodate the after-party dinner reception.
“Oh. My. God,” Jewel said in a gush of awe.
Mai squeezed Jewel’s bare arm. “It’s going to be a fabulous night,” she whispered in assurance. “Now let’s mingle.” Mai took Jewel’s arm and guided her around the extraordinary space.
If only Mai’s prediction had been true. It was apparent within the first hour that the buzz among the patrons and the press was anything but complimentary.
“Terrible.”
“Not her style.”
“What happened to her?”
“Definitely not what I expected.”
“Disappointing.”
Jewel tried hard to ignore the demoralizing commentary. But the sit-down dinner where she was surrounded by self-declared connoisseurs of art who worked hard at maintaining polite conversation that pointedly didn’t include the exhibit, was the longest night of her life, with the only highlight being that Simon did arrive and was by her side during the interminable meal.
There were points when she wanted to run out and break down and cry, but she knew she had to keep up the front of confidence.
The silence was so heavy on the ride back to her hotel that it made her head pound. Simon offered to spend the night, and for the first time since they’d been a couple she turned him down. She needed to be alone and didn’t want him to be around when she read the reviews in the morning. The fact that her father was a witness to her embarrassment was enough.
* * *
She sat opposite Mai the following morning looking at one review after another that eviscerated her work. Every outlet from the venerable New York Times to New York magazine, Art and Culture, Contemporary Art Review and every blog and newspaper in between were, uncharacteristically, in agreement—the exhibit was an epic failure. Even the international press had a field day at her expense. One critic went so far as to intimate that Jewel Fontaine’s star had finally fallen.
“Jewel... I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
Jewel lifted the coffee mug to her lips and took a sip. “There’s nothing to say. It’s all here,” she said, pushing the papers aside. She glanced off into the distance.
“You know how critics are. They wouldn’t be critics if they didn’t have something to disparage. It will pass. All of the great artists were blasted by detractors that didn’t understand what the artist was trying to convey.”
“Not like this.” She huffed. “Some of these reviews are almost personal.”
“But you can’t take it personally.”
“I know you’re trying to make me feel better, Mai. You’re wasting your time.” Jewel pushed away from the table and stood. “I’m going to get dressed, pack my bags, meet my father and go back home.”
“The flight is at one.”
“Hmm. Thanks.”
The trip back home with her father was the second and ultimate blow.
For the prior six months Jewel had been traveling, studying and immersing herself in the production for her show at the Guggenheim. She kept in contact with her father by phone. They spoke at least once per week. The small lapses in the conversation, the long pauses between one idea and the next, and often the disassociation with whatever it was that they were discussing she tossed off as her father, much like herself, being preoccupied. When she saw him for the first time in six months, he physically looked the same, but there was often a vacancy in his eyes and a faraway tone in his voice. This she attributed to the travel, exhaustion and the excitement of the evening. The plane ride, however, was the most devastating experience of her life.
One moment her father seemed perfectly fine. Then he began referring to Jewel by her mother’s name—Estelle—and by degrees he became more and more agitated and seemingly disoriented, not understanding why he was on a plane or where he was going. Jewel was terrified, and his agitation grew to a point where the flight attendants had to intervene. Fortunately they were only twenty minutes out of Louisiana and Jewel was able to calm him without him being restrained. By the time they landed, he seemed to be himself again, but exhausted, as if the lapse had been as much physical as mental.
The diagnosis was what every child fears for their parent—early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. Whatever idea Jewel might have had about returning to New York or going back to Europe came to a grinding halt. Her father couldn’t be left alone, especially in that enormous house. The doctors prescribed the latest in medication that was touted to slow the disease but not stop it. For a while the medication seemed to work, and then it didn’t. They tried combination after combination, with the same result—“You should put him a facility where he can be cared for.” For Jewel that was not an option.
Augustus Fontaine was her dad. The man who had been her rock for the better part of her life. Now it was her turn to be there for him.
For a while she tried to paint, to sculpt, but her father needed her more and more. Maybe it was some macabre blessing in disguise, she often thought. After the debacle of her showing at the Guggenheim, no one was beating down her door. She’d lost her mojo, and there seemed to be nowhere in her day or in her life for her to reclaim it. Instead, she turned all of her time and attention to caring for her father, until it became too much for her to handle alone. She hired Minerva.
That had been a little more than two years ago. The disease had plateaued and remained at the same stage for quite some time. She supposed that was a good thing, and she’d fully accepted the turn that her life had taken. But the hard reality of her father’s care had done major damage to her bank account, and without the income from sales of her work, tours and speaking engagements, there was not much to replenish it with.
And then came Craig Lawson.
“Need any help with those?” Minerva walked into the kitchen and settled on the opposite side of the counter.
“I’m almost done. Thanks. How’s Dad?”
“Fine. He had a good day. And might I ask about yours?”
Jewel tucked in a grin and busied herself with stacking the boxes. “Well...it was very nice.”
“How nice?” she probed.
Jewel pushed out a breath. “Nice enough that I might do it again...if he asks.”
Minerva’s light brown eyes widened. She clapped her hands in delight. “Hallelujah, and let the choir say amen!”
Jewel couldn’t help but laugh. “Gee whiz, Minerva, it’s not that bad.”
“Oh, yes, it is. When was the last time you went out...with a man?” There was a long pause. “Exactly. And it don’t hurt that he’s drop-dead gorgeous and wealthy.”
“That’s all very true, but you are getting way ahead of what is going on. He lives between London and California. He has the kind of life that I have been out of for quite some time. Even if there was something going on between us—which there isn’t—there would be no way to make it work,” she added dismissively, even as she replayed the way his mouth felt on hers, the way he tasted and the way she wanted more. “It’s just two adults in a business arrangement that somewhat enjoy each other’s company.”
“Hmm,” Minerva murmured with a rise in her brow. “If you say so.” She started for the archway that led to the dining room. “I have to run into town to pick up a few things. I should be back in an hour or so. Do you need anything?”
“No. I’m good. I’m going to sit with Dad for a while.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
Jewel plopped down on the stool and gazed off into the distance, trying to paint a portrait of what her life might look like with a man like Craig Lawson in it. But then she looked at the stack of bakery boxes and her eyes lifted to the floor above where her father slept. She pushed back from her seat and stood. This was her life.
* * *
Throughout the meeting with his team, Craig struggled with keeping focused on the items at hand. His thoughts continually shifted between topics of discussion and kissing Jewel Fontaine. He was pretty sure that was a bad move on his part. He had a long history of getting involved with people he worked with, Milan Chase being a prime example. He didn’t want his somewhat jaded history to repeat itself with Jewel, but the truth of the matter was that, as inappropriate as it might be, he wanted to see her again. He wanted to take her to his bed and strip her naked. He needed to see and feel for himself if her skin was as silken as it looked. Did that lovely scent that drifted around her find its way beneath those gauzy dresses she wore? What would it feel like to be sheathed inside her? The merry-go-round of his questions was endless. He was immensely happy when the meeting came to an end.
“We can start preliminary shooting next week. Exteriors,” Diane was saying as Craig pushed back from the table.
“Get the full schedule printed up and sent to everyone’s tablets,” Craig instructed her and Paul. “Norm, you can get some stills as well for the storyboards.”
“No problem, boss,” Norm, the technical director, said.
Craig checked his watch. He had time to shower and change before meeting up with his sister. He crossed over to Anthony before he headed to his room. “As soon as the revised contract is ready, let me know. I’ll drop it off and get it signed.”
Anthony shot him a sidelong look. “Not a problem.”
He walked over to the minibar and poured himself a short glass of bourbon. “I’m gonna get ready to meet up with Alyse. I need all the fortitude I can get.” He tossed the warm liquid down in one swallow, shut his eyes briefly against the burn then set the glass down. He clapped Anthony on the back. “Thanks for holding it down, man.”
“We got this,” he said with a grin.
Craig turned away and lifted his hand in salute.
He changed into a black cotton shirt and black slacks, slid his phone, credit card and room key into his pocket, and headed down to the lobby to meet his sister.
He was seated in one of the lounge chairs checking out the day’s headlines when Alyse pushed through the revolving door. She didn’t see him at first, and it gave Craig the opportunity to take in and appreciate the attractive and self-assured woman his little sister had become. His heart filled with warmth and good memories, which at the same time partnered with sadness that he could have allowed his rift with his father to keep him away from his sister. He stood just as she turned her head in his direction.
Her arms stretched wide, and her dimpled smile beamed as she literally ran to him. Craig swept her up in a hug, pressing her face to his chest. She locked her arms around his waist and craned her neck to look up at him.
“God, it’s so good to see you,” she said as tears formed in her eyes. She sniffed hard and stroked his strong jaw. “Those pictures are much better looking than you, though,” she teased, deadpan.
Craig tossed his head back and laughed. It would be his little sister that had no problem giving him a reality check to remind him that he wasn’t all that special. He pressed his palm to his chest. “You wound me. No respect for your elders.” He grinned down at her. “It’s good to see you, too, sis,” he said with affection.
“Point me to the drinks and food and let’s get this reunion started.”
“We can go someplace else if you want,” he offered.
“No, why bother? We’re already here.”
“Sounds good to me.” Craig bent his arm and she slid hers through before leading her into the hotel’s bar and restaurant.
* * *
Alyse had barely taken a breath once they were seated before she launched into her barrage of questions.
“So how long are you in town for and why didn’t you tell anyone that you were coming?” She reached for her glass of water.
Craig leaned back in his seat. “About two months if everything goes according to schedule. And I know I should have called you and Myles.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. We haven’t seen you in God knows how long,” she groused. She shot him a glare. “I read that Milan is the lead.” Her brow arched. “Ulterior motive?”
He pushed out a breath. Alyse was one of the few people other than Anthony who had told him from the start that getting involved with Milan Chase was a mistake. At the time he didn’t care. They were hot for each other and they let it burn until there was nothing left but ashes.
“I don’t have an ulterior motive, and,” he qualified, “there is nothing going on now. She happened to be the best person for the role.”
“Hmm.” She rolled her eyes. “Just be careful, that’s all I have to say about it. But speaking about your notorious love life, who are you seeing these days?”
His thought immediately leaped to Jewel. But he couldn’t truthfully count her as someone he was seeing. Besides, the minute he let Alyse know that Jewel was the owner of the location where the film was to be shot, he would never hear the end of it. “You’ll be happy—or at least surprised—to know that I’m not seeing anyone. I’m totally focused on this film.”
“What are you plans when it’s completed?” she asked with a hint of hesitation mixed with an unspoken plea.
Craig linked his long fingers together and shrugged slightly. “When it’s done I’ll head back to LA, to the studio for editing, then home to London. I have a television pilot that I’m contracted to work on in the fall.”
Her long lashes lowered over her eyes. “Oh,” she said softly.
“But I promise to stay in touch.”
The waitress came to take their drink and dinner order. Once she was gone, Alyse continued her inquisition.
“Is it true that the movie is about our family?”
Craig rocked his jaw. “Let’s just say that the Lawson legacy is the inspiration for the film.”
“Does Dad know?” She stared across at him.
“I have no idea what he knows. I’m sure he doesn’t care one way or the other what I do,” he snapped, his expression hardening by degrees.
“You don’t believe that.”
“Why wouldn’t I? He made himself very clear, Alyse. And if nothing else, I take Jake Lawson at his word.”
The last confrontation with his father still stung all these years later. As the eldest son, it was expected that he would follow in his father’s footsteps and one day take over the helm of JL International. Craig had had his sights set elsewhere. Since he was a kid he’d been fascinated by the wonder and magic of film. He would watch his mother prepare for her small film roles, and sometimes she would let him come on set. His mother nurtured his thirst for the arts, his father starved him. Things only grew worse between him and his father after the scandal and his mother’s tragic death. When Craig entered college, his goal was to major in film as much for himself as well as homage to his mother. His father went ballistic and refused to cover the cost unless he switched his major to international business, which he claimed to do to satisfy his father. But unknown to Jake, Craig stayed on the film track. Instead of his college graduation being a day of celebration, it was an epic nightmare when Craig’s degree was an MFA in film instead of an MBA in international business.
“I don’t give a damn what it was you thought you wanted! You spent my money on this piece of crap degree to do what—become famous like your trifling, lying mother!”
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother!”
Jake had whirled toward his son, his face twisted in rage. He’d pointed a warning finger at Craig. “I told you—” his voice shook “—this movie shit is nothing but an empty path filled with narcissistic assholes that want gratification from everyone but themselves. It’s crap. It’s frivolous, and it’s not worthy of a Lawson! Didn’t you learn anything from what your mother did to me, to us, to this family?”
“I can’t live my life for you, Dad. I can’t and I won’t. This is my life, my dream. You had yours. You have to let me have mine.”
“I don’t have to do a damn thing.” He’d snorted a nasty laugh. His dark eyes narrowed as he glared at his son. “This is what you want. Fine.” He tossed his hands up in the air as if he’d conceded defeat, but Craig instantly knew better. His father never gave in, but he’d never expected what his father said next.
Jake had pursed his lips and slid his large hands into his pant pockets. “I want you to pack your things—everything. I want you out of my house by morning. I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t want to see you. Tomorrow I will meet with my attorneys to have your name removed from my will. You want your own life—you got it. Let’s see how far you get on your own without everything that I’ve provided for and this family. Now get out of my sight.”
For a moment, Craig had stared at his father in disbelief. Dozens of scenarios and monologues raced through his head, but nothing was remotely up to the level of hurt and disappointment and, yes, uncertainty that twisted inside him. He swallowed. “Fine. If that’s what you want.” He’d turned to walk away so that his father would not see the burn of tears that hung in his eyes.
“No, it’s what you want!” his father tossed at Craig’s back. “Live with it.”
That had been a little more than ten years ago. And true to his father’s demand, Craig had not been back. Unfortunately, his self-imposed exile also affected his relationship with his siblings.
Alyse wrapped one hand around her glass; the other she lay flat on the table and stared at her fingers.
“Look.” He reached across the table and covered her hand. “Don’t get yourself all mixed up in this beef with me and Dad. It’s our ugly mess, not yours.”
“But we’re family, Craig,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “You’re a part of that family that has been missing for over a decade.”
“That’s not on me.” He shook his head and glanced away.
The waitress returned with their drinks, and before they were on the table, Craig swiped up his and took a deep swallow. He lowered his head then looked across at her. “Let’s enjoy the evening. We haven’t seen each other in ages. Catch me up on what’s going on with you and Myles.”
Alyse visibly relaxed and launched into an animated monologue about her latest significant other, hirings and firings at the office and Myles’s rise up the corporate ladder. “He’s set to head up the new office in Detroit. As wild and crazy as the Motor City is now, real estate is a steal. There is so much potential. In another ten years that city will be unrecognizable and ready to compete with New York and LA.”
“I’m sure you’re right. It’s definitely primed for a turnaround.” He was certain that his father had seen that coming from miles away and was ready to pounce the instant that opportunity presented itself.
Their dinner arrived, and while they ate they reminisced about the crazy times they had growing up, with the conversation constantly peppered with remember when?
“Wow, it’s nearly ten,” Alyse said in amazement following her final bite of cheesecake.
“I’ll drive you home.”
“Don’t be silly. I have my car.” She grinned. “I’m a big girl now, remember.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice warming. “I remember.”
The valet brought her midnight-blue Lexus RX around to the front. Craig stood by the driver’s door while Alyse slid in.
She glanced up at him. “When will I see you again?”
He braced his hand on the roof. “We’ll work something out. Let me know when Myles is back in town and the three of us will hang out.” He smiled.
“You plan on seeing Dad?” she asked hopefully.
“No.”
“He misses you, you know. He’ll never admit it, but I know he does.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Drive safe. Love you.” He stepped back and shut the door.
“Love you, too,” she said through the open window then drove off.
Craig stood there until her car was out of sight. His father missed him. Hmm. He doubted that very much. It was wishful thinking on Alyse’s part and nothing more. Just wishful thinking.
* * *
“Fontaine residence,” Minerva said into the phone.
“Hello, this is Craig Lawson. I was hoping to speak with Ms. Fontaine.”
“One moment.”
Minerva put the phone down and went in search of Jewel. She was just coming down from sitting with her father.
“Ms. Jewel, there’s a call for you. Mr. Lawson,” she added with a twinkle in her eyes.
Jewel’s heart beat a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral. “Thanks, Minerva.” She came down the last few steps and walked toward the den. “I’ll take it in here.”
She walked in and closed the door halfway behind her, took a breath and picked up the phone. “I have it, Minerva,” she said and waited to ensure that Minerva hung up the extension. “Hello,” she said once she heard the telltale click. “How are you?”
“Good. Better now,” he said and wished that he hadn’t. “I mean, it was a busy morning. I, uh, have the revised contract as well as the shooting schedule, and the check. I wanted to drop it all off later this evening if that’s okay.”
Jewel grew hot all over. The tips of her ears were on fire. Flashes of their parting kiss on his last visit danced in front of her. This evening. Evenings were always difficult for her.
“Umm, sure. How is seven, seven thirty?” She swallowed. Her father was usually settled and calm by then.
“Not a problem. See you then.”
“Okay.”
“Take my cell number in case...of anything.”
“Hang on a sec.” She got a piece of paper and a pen from the table and took down the number.
“Feel free to call anytime. See you this evening. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You, too.” She squeezed the phone in her palm for a moment then returned it to the cradle and stared at the number in hand. Call anytime. She pushed out a breath and walked out.
* * *
“Too busy for an old friend?”
Craig slid his phone into his pants pocket and turned. “Milan.” His eyes roved over her. As always, she was photograph perfect. She had the looks and simmering sexuality of a hot young starlet with the edge of maturity rolled in. Whenever Milan walked into a space, bystanders were swept up in the swirl of her aura. The magnetism that she exuded as easily as she breathed was what made her an undeniable star on the big and small screens. This role was made for her, and as much as he didn’t want to stir up the coals of their past relationship, he knew that Milan would not make that easy. It was all in her eyes and the teasing flicker at the corners of her mouth. He sat on the edge of the table and folded his arms. “What can I do for you?”
Milan took a step toward him. “I think you have the answer to that.”
Craig lowered his head for a moment and shook it slowly from side to side. He looked at her. The corner of his mouth curved into a grin. “Not happenin’, baby. We both know that. A friendly drink is as far as it’s ever going to go.”
She stretched out her manicured finger and ran it along the line of his jaw. “Why? You’re not seeing anyone. And we have a history. We’re both going to need to unwind at the end of those long workdays.” Her lashes lowered over her trademark smoldering eyes.
Craig stood. He looked down into her upturned face. “I’m sure you’ll find something to satisfy you, but it won’t be me. Not again.”
Their tumultuous past flared between them.
“How many ways do I have to say I’m sorry,” she begged.
“You don’t. Just do what you’re being paid to do.” He started to move past her. She grabbed his arm.
“Craig... I’m sorry. When are you going to forgive me?” She blinked rapidly. “I miss you.”
His cold look stripped away the facade. “You are good,” he said, his tone dripping in sarcasm. “If I didn’t know the real you and what you’re capable of, I would almost believe the BS you’re slinging.”
Milan’s five-foot-six frame jerked as if she’d been pushed. Her beguiling expression morphed into one of stunned disbelief then anger. “You don’t talk to me like that,” she said between her teeth.
“Milan... I’m not going down this road with you. Let’s keep it professional. You’re here for the movie, and that’s it. If you’ve changed your mind about the role, let me know now and we’ll start looking for a replacement.” His unflinching gaze held her in place.
She pressed her mouth tightly together, hurled a death stare at him and then spun away.
Craig filled his cheeks with air and pushed out a long breath. Anthony had warned him about signing Milan on to the project. But he wanted the best for the film. And, unfortunately, Milan was the best for the role. They both knew that. But, hell, he’d kick her to the curb in a heartbeat and move on if she couldn’t keep the past in the past where it belonged. He never should have agreed to anything even as innocuous as drinks. Leading her on was the last thing he wanted.
“Trouble in paradise?” Anthony asked, sidling up next to Craig.
“Not anymore.”
“Good. The last thing we need is diva drama. So...how did it go with Alyse?”
Craig smiled. “Good. Really good. We had dinner, talked, laughed—like old times.”
“Glad to hear it. I’d love to see Alyse. It’s been a while.”
“We plan to get together when Myles is back in town. I’ll let you know.” They didn’t talk about it, but he knew that Anthony carried a torch for Alyse. They both also knew that Alyse, unlike Craig, wouldn’t cross her father.
“Sounds good. Listen, Norm wants to meet with us for a few.”
Craig nodded in agreement, but his mind was on seeing Jewel later. It was going to be a long day.
* * *
“Everything okay?” Minerva asked when Jewel exited the den.
“Yes. Fine.” She tried to breeze by Minerva, but she wasn’t having any of it.
“Then why do you look like a frightened doe? Did something happen?”
Jewel rubbed her hands together. “Nothing happened. He’s going to drop by later to bring the revised contract and the check, that’s all.”
Minerva studied her. “You aren’t reconsidering, are you?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
She understood that Minerva was concerned for her. In the short time that she’d been part of the family, Minerva had taken on not only the role of caregiver but surrogate mother. A role that Jewel embraced. She’d been without a strong female figure and nurturer in her life since she was six when she’d lost her mother to cancer. Of course her father stepped in and filled as many of the empty spaces as he could, but he could never be the mother that a part of Jewel would always miss. Although tragic circumstances had brought Minerva to them, it was also a blessing. She’d come to lean on Minerva when things became difficult and accepted Minerva’s unsolicited wisdom as part of the package.
Jewel walked into the living room and sat down on the side chair. She crossed her legs at the knee and linked her fingers together. “I know financially it’s the right thing to do,” she began.
“But?” Minerva sat opposite her on the love seat.
“But...he kissed me...well, we kissed each other.”
Minerva’s eyes widened. “Really, now. Well, that changes things—or does it?” She leveled her gaze on Jewel.
Jewel glanced away. “I don’t know if it does or doesn’t. It complicates things, that’s for sure.”
“Why?”
“You know why. We’ve talked about this.”
“No, you talked yourself out of it before there was a this.”
Jewel pursed her lips. “Maybe,” she mumbled. “But now what? What if it didn’t mean anything? He’s notorious for being a womanizer. I’m probably one of many. I’m sure he felt he owed it to me for saying yes to the deal,” she rambled on, stacking up a litany of excuses.
“Hmm, all that, huh?”
Jewel’s gaze jumped to Minerva’s reproving expression. “Sounds like you are setting yourself up to be disappointed.”
“But it’s all true!”
Minerva shrugged. “Says the gossip sites. But you don’t know that for yourself. Besides, what’s so wrong with grabbing a little sunshine, no matter how fleeting? You deserve it, sweetheart. You’re young, beautiful and single, but you’ve buried yourself in this house and under the weight of your father’s illness. Do you really think Augustus would want that for you? Your father would want you to live your life and be happy.”
Jewel lowered her head. “Easier said than done.”
Minerva pushed up from the chair. “It’s only as hard as you make it.” She started to walk away, stopped and turned back. “Oh—” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Our church committee is putting together donations for the middle school. It’s a damn shame that the teachers have to go in their own pockets for supplies and such. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to part with any of your things in the cottage? Things you don’t plan to use no more.”
Jewel’s stomach instantly knotted at the mention of the cottage. She swallowed. “Um, I’ll take a look and let you know.” She forced a smile. She knew what Minerva was trying to do.
“Whatever you could spare I know would be appreciated.”
Jewel watched Minerva walk away and realized that her heart was racing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d set foot in the cottage that she’d converted into her home studio. After New York her life spiraled downward. Her relationship with Simon imploded along with her career, and she couldn’t bring herself to cross the threshold of a place that represented all that she’d lost—especially her confidence. She’d lost confidence in herself as an artist and as a woman that a man wanted to commit to.
Minerva was right in some respects. She’d turned off the lights of her life, and for the first time in longer than she cared to remember, the switch turned on when she met Craig Lawson. Maybe it was time. She got up and walked out.
* * *
The cottage was situated behind the main house. Several generations ago it served as home for the servants who lived on and worked the land. She’d modernized it, adding plumbing, insulation and electricity. After a few coats of paint and some personal touches she’d made it her own. When she was in the throes and frenzy of a new project, she would sequester herself in her studio for hours and days at a time until she collapsed from exhaustion. Her father would come to look for her only to find her curled up on the floor with a drop cloth as a quilt. Eventually, she added a cushy couch and stacked sheets and blankets on a shelf for those nights when she couldn’t make it the few hundred feet to her bedroom.
Those days were behind her. She knew there was nothing beyond these doors for her, even as she stood motionless in front of the cottage entrance. She swallowed down her reticence then reached into the pocket of her shift and took out the key. Her hand shook ever so slightly as she aimed the key at the lock.
Slowly she turned the key and pushed the door open. She expected to be hit with a blast of dust, cobwebs and stale air. Instead there was a lingering scent of jasmine. She stepped fully into the space and shook her head sharply in disbelief. Everything was just as she remembered it. She walked, trancelike, to her wood and metal worktable and gingerly ran her fingers across her sketchpads and the glass jars where she kept her pencils and brushes. Turning, her gaze scanned the walls that held her paintings—some completed, others mere shadows of ideas—then to the easels and the shelf that held her cameras, the cabinet where she kept her molding clays, tools and wood for her sculptures.
She pressed her nose against the stacked sheets and inhaled their recently washed freshness. That was when she noticed the vase of fresh flowers on the small table by the couch where she often slept.
Her eyes welled, and the tears slid down her cheeks. She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. She planted her hands on the curve of her hips and took another slow turn around her space. “Damn you, Minerva!” she whispered in grudging gratitude.
* * *
Jewel was frosting a wedding shower cake when Minerva sauntered into the kitchen. She’d been able to avoid Minerva for the better part of the day, but she knew it couldn’t last forever.
“Dad okay?” she asked without looking up.
“He’s napping. I want to get started on his dinner.” She walked to the refrigerator, sidestepping the elephant in the room.
“How long?”
Minerva glanced over her shoulder. “How long for what?”
“How long have you been taking care of the cottage?”
She removed a package of chicken breasts and shut the refrigerator door. She shrugged. “’Bout six months, I suppose.”
Jewel blinked away her disbelief. “Six months?”
“Hmm. About that.” She ripped open the package and turned on the water in the sink.
Jewel plopped down in a chair. “Why?”
Minerva turned and faced Jewel. “Because I believe in you even though you’ve stopped believing in yourself.”
Jewel lowered her head. “I guess I have in a way.” She pushed out a breath. “I feel like I lost my passion.”
“It’s still there. Buried under all the other mess that you’ve let pile up on you.”
“Maybe.”
“You’ll never know unless you give it a try.”
Jewel shook her head. “I...don’t think I can go back down that road.”
“You been tellin’ yourself that nonsense for so long you actually believe it.” She made a noise with her teeth. “Well, if you ain’t gonna use that stuff in there, I’ll just pack it up and take it on over to the church to distribute to the school.” She opened the overhead cabinets for the seasonings and began humming something Jewel was sure was a spiritual under her breath. She seasoned, and she hummed. She prepared the chicken in the pan, and she hummed. She cut up fresh string beans, and she hummed.
“Fine!” Jewel conceded after ten long minutes of humming, the ghosts of her ancestors having challenged her with every note and a reminder that she had no idea about real hardship.
Minerva looked over her shoulder with a wide-eyed expression of innocence. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I said...fine. I’ll keep my things.” She took the frosted cake and put it in the secondary refrigerator that she used for her baking clients.
“Well, now, that’s a start.” She turned back to the stove.
Jewel planted her hand on her hip, slowly shook her head then walked out of the kitchen.