The Best of Friends

by Susan Mallery

  Peter grinned. “Part of the Worden appeal. You can’t get our beautiful jewelry anywhere else.”

  Élan put a small black case on the table and opened it. Inside were three rings, two necklaces, and two bracelets. Élan spread them out on a black velvet cloth, then slid the cloth toward David.

  While Rebecca’s work was all about lush curves and the female shape, Élan preferred geometry. There was a sharpness to his pieces, a sophistication. He used only white diamonds with platinum, which added to the modernist feel.

  David had already studied the diamonds and knew their quality. What he was most interested in was Jayne’s reaction to the collection.

  She looked from the jewelry back to him. “What am I doing here?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Telling me what you think. You’re our target market.”

  She shook her head. “Not if these are real.” She touched the necklace. “Do you have a price point yet?”

  Peter waved his hands. “Nothing’s been decided. We’re thinking we want a more mass appeal with this collection. A younger consumer, which will be reflected in the price. Maybe twenty or thirty thousand for the rings. Close to a hundred for the bracelets. Maybe one-fifty or two for the necklaces.”

  “I will have earrings, yes?” Élan said. “There was a problem with the mold, and they are not ready.”

  Jayne pressed her lips together. “Good to know.”

  Élan spent several minutes explaining his vision, where he saw the line going, and what other materials interested him. David listened carefully while trying to figure out what Jayne was thinking. He couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t seem to love the work.

  Forty minutes later Élan packed up his samples and left. David promised Peter he would stop by later and angled toward Jayne.

  “What were you thinking?” he asked.

  “They’re lovely. A little cold for my taste, but I can see a lot of women thinking they’re perfect.”

  “And?”

  “And… it’s been very interesting getting to see this side of the business. I’ve never been up in the offices or at a meeting like this. I wonder if it’s how companies decide on a new toilet paper.”

  He stared at her, not speaking.

  She rubbed her cast, tucked her hair behind her ears, then spun in her chair toward him. “What?”

  “You’re not telling me what you think. There’s more. I know there is.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Call me crazy, but does the world really need another hundred-and fifty-thousand-dollar necklace? On what planet does a twenty-thousand-dollar price tag on a ring indicate that it’s more accessible to a younger buyer? Who has that kind of money—not counting your family and all the people you know? Conventional wisdom says that a guy should spend two months’ salary on an engagement ring. Let’s say he makes sixty thousand a year, which is pretty average. That’s ten thousand dollars, pretax. You’re talking twenty, and it’s not even an engagement ring. This may be your world, but it’s not mine, and it’s not normal.”

  “The Worden brand is upscale.”

  “Everyone in this room is really clear on that.” She pushed to her feet. “I don’t know what you want me to say, David. They’re lovely. And I’ll never be able to afford them. Why can’t you find someone to make jewelry for the rest of us? Don’t we deserve something nice, too? I’m not saying we’ll get the same quality of metal or stones or diamonds the size of small dogs. But something pretty. And affordable. Isn’t that good business, too?”

  He rose. “We’ve never gone in that direction.”

  “You could try it. Have you heard of Tacori?”

  “Sure. Great jewelry.”

  “They sell it on QVC.”

  “What’s QVC?”

  Her expression turned pitying. “It’s a television shopping channel. Everything from vacuums to cookware to jewelry. Tacori does a line for them. It’s exclusive and pretty and affordable in a huge way. I have some earrings, and I always get compliments when I wear them. There are only a handful of people who will ever be able to afford Worden jewelry. What about the rest of us?”

  When she said it, the idea sounded simple and obvious. “I’ll look into it,” David said.

  “I hope so. Just don’t tell Elizabeth it was my idea.”

  “Seven-point-five million,” Jayne breathed as she read the flyer David handed her. “I went online and found a mortgage calculator. That’s over forty thousand dollars a month, assuming twenty percent down. A month!”

  “I’ll put more down,” David said.

  “Sure, because of the payments.” She looked up at the long driveway. “I like the palm trees. Very L.A. Six bedrooms, five baths. That means someone has to share. I don’t get it. Why would anyone be willing to share? Of course, there’s a separate apartment for the maid. That’s important. You don’t want the help living in.”

  “You’re babbling.”

  “I know. I’m overwhelmed.”

  She was also having second thoughts about helping David with his house hunting. After her little rant earlier in the week, she’d expected him to cancel their appointment. But he hadn’t, and she wasn’t sure why. Nor did she know what she’d been thinking when she told him the Worden jewelry cost too much. Had she really talked about QVC?

  The family was rich at a level she couldn’t comprehend, and she’d known them for years. The house in front of them was proof of David’s net worth.

  “There’s private beach access,” she said, “but it’s going to be a hike down. And you’ll be dealing with fire danger when the winds come.”

  “You’re a worrier.”

  “Sometimes. I’m just saying, you’ll want to test out the sprinkler system.”

  They walked toward the front door. It was large, with etched glass on either side. The real estate agent opened the door.

  “There are so many amazing features to this house,” she said, leading them inside where the two-story entryway stretched for what seemed like miles. “As you can see, this has more of a rustic feel to it, with many natural and green touches. There are solar panels to generate electricity, extra-thick walls to keep the temperature even, and renewable products used wherever possible. The wood beams were recovered from a sixteenth-century cathedral in Germany.”

  “Where all good wood comes from,” Jayne whispered.

  David nodded but didn’t say anything. He seemed distracted. Maybe he was pissed about what she’d said about the jewelry. Or thought she was being critical about the house. Or judgmental. Which brought her back to wondering why she was here. She should have told him no, that she couldn’t go house hunting with him. Only that would require a level of self-control she simply didn’t have.

  The agent led them into a beautiful kitchen the size of an airport terminal. There were three ovens, an eight-burner stove, separate stainless refrigerator and freezer, either of which could have held a couple of bodies, and cupboard space for twenty. There were hand-painted tiles for a backsplash and a huge bay window above the sink.

  “I’ll leave you to explore it on your own,” the agent said. “Then meet you by the stairs.”

  When she’d left, David ran his hands across the counter. “It’s kinda big.”

  “Everything is lovely.”

  “But?”

  “But nothing.”

  “You’re not going to tell me we could store tanks here if the military has a surplus, or an orchestra? That whatever resources were saved by using the restored beams were wasted getting them here?”

  She winced. “I don’t mean any of that in a bad way.”

  “I know.”

  “I guess I talk too much. Some of it is nerves. I don’t want to make a mistake. Some of it is you seem different today. Are you mad at me?”

  He circled the car-size island to move in front of her. “Why would I be mad?”

  “Because of what I said the other day. I wasn’t being critical.”

  “I didn’t think you
were.” He gestured to the house. “This isn’t me. I don’t want a place this big. I just want something by the beach, with good light and a room for a big-screen TV. But now I’m thinking land and property.” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m not a jerk.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not a jerk. I’m not that guy who can’t think about anyone but himself.”

  Now she was more confused. “I never thought you were. What does this have to do with the house? Or the business? And why do you care what I think of you?”

  “What kind of question is that? Why wouldn’t your opinion matter?”

  “Because you don’t know me very well. I’m your sister’s friend and Elizabeth’s… well, let’s not go there.”

  He seemed angry and uncomfortable, which made her feel bad. She touched his arm. “I know you’re not a jerk. You’re really a nice guy. Funny and caring and supportive and a good brother. You’re practically gay. Is that better?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Sure. Kick me when I’m down.”

  “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “I do.”

  He put both hands on her shoulders, which was stunning enough, but then he leaned in and kissed her.

  She felt his warm mouth on hers, the pressure of his lips, and the tingles. They were everywhere. Not just where they touched, but zipping through her body, making her feel as if she’d gone all bubbly.

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t react, couldn’t do anything but feel skin on skin and wish that it would last forever. It took every ounce of self-control not to whimper when he stepped back.

  “You kissed me,” she whispered.

  His mouth curved into a very satisfied male kind of smile. “I know.”

  “Was it because I said you were practically gay?”

  “Partially.”

  So he was making a point. She could understand that. It wasn’t as if he was actually interested in her. She had to keep telling herself that, or she would go down a very dangerous road.

  “I won’t say it again,” she promised.

  “What did you think?” the real estate agent asked as she came back into the kitchen. “Ready to see the rest of the house?”

  “Sure,” David said, taking Jayne’s hand in his. “Let’s see it all.”

  “Rebecca was difficult enough as a teenager,” Elizabeth said, pacing the length of her office. “Now she’s impossible. Bad enough she didn’t warn me she was coming home, but to show up like that. I’m still getting calls. And has she been in touch since? Of course not.”

  Her frustration was increased by the fact that she’d actually called her daughter herself and Rebecca hadn’t picked up. Or phoned back. Which made it all the more impossible to know what her next move would be. First showing up at the brunch. Anything could be next, including a nude billboard on Sunset Boulevard. She wouldn’t put anything past Rebecca.

  “Why can’t she be more like her brother?” she asked. “David is cooperative. Driven. Successful. What does she have to show for her life? And speaking of David, she completely ruined his party. The brunch was supposed to be about him, not her. But that is so like Rebecca. Stealing the spotlight for herself.”

  Jayne sat in the chair by the fireplace, holding her coffee, looking trapped. Elizabeth supposed she should take pity on her, but she had to talk to someone, and she couldn’t complain to Blaine. He would simply take Rebecca’s side, as he always had. And her friends couldn’t be trusted with information as sensitive as this.

  “Plus, to have her show up with Jonathan,” Elizabeth said, then pressed her lips together.

  Jayne nodded sympathetically. “I know he’s a friend of yours and Blaine’s, and he’s too old for her.”

  Elizabeth watched closely, but Jayne only sipped her coffee, looking as calm and patient as usual. Perhaps Rebecca hadn’t told Jayne about Elizabeth’s affair. It had been years ago, and while Elizabeth had denied everything, she had a feeling her daughter hadn’t believed her. Blaine didn’t know—Elizabeth was sure of that. And he could never find out. He was oddly old-fashioned in many ways. Yet another frustration for her to deal with. Sometimes it seemed as if the world conspired to keep her in pain.

  “You didn’t know they were dating?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Not at all.”

  “But you did know she was back in Los Angeles.”

  Jayne hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I knew.”

  “I see.” Elizabeth let the two words hang in the air. “I’m extremely disappointed in you, Jayne. I expected better.”

  Jayne flinched slightly. “Rebecca is my friend.”

  “As am I, and let me remind you, I’ve been a much better friend. While Rebecca took off without a thought to anyone she was leaving behind, I have looked after you. Have you forgotten how I brought you into this house and made you feel at home? We came to your high school graduation, Jayne, and paid for your college. We saw you through the troubling time when a girl becomes a woman. I have always been here for you, available for advice, worrying about you. Blaine has considered you a second daughter. In return, we’ve asked for so little.”

  Elizabeth was good, Jayne thought, trying not to writhe on the uncomfortable chair. She felt like a very ungrateful bug.

  “I would have warned you if I’d known she was coming to the party,” she said at last. “But I couldn’t tell you she was coming home.”

  Elizabeth’s stern expression tightened. “So there are limits on our relationship. That is very unfortunate.”

  “I would think you’d be pleased that Rebecca has a good friend watching out for her.”

  “Rebecca hardly needs anyone on her side. She’s a force of nature on her own.” She pressed her lips together. “What’s done is done. We’ll move on now. How is the house hunting going? Or does some misplaced loyalty prevent you from discussing David, too?”

  Jayne felt trapped and angry, though she knew she’d done nothing wrong. This was what it was like dealing with Elizabeth. A constant dance to maintain her footing. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate all that you’ve done for me. I do. I am grateful for your kindness. I don’t know anyone else who would have taken me in.”

  Some of Elizabeth’s tension eased. “I’m glad you realize that.”

  “I do. As for David, he’s seen a couple of houses in Malibu. I’m not sure he’s serious about either of them. They were large, maybe too large.” Guilt was a powerful weapon, she thought grimly, wishing she were better equipped to fight it.

  “It’s so inconvenient that David moved out,” Elizabeth said, then took a seat opposite Jayne. “I remember when he was little—he wanted to tell me everything. Now he keeps to himself. I don’t suppose he’s mentioned if he’s seeing anyone?”

  Jayne nearly dropped her cup. “Um, no. He hasn’t said anything.” David dating? Of course he would, and wasn’t that exactly what she needed to make her day all sparkly.

  He’d kissed her, but Elizabeth hadn’t asked about that, and Jayne sure wasn’t going to volunteer the information. She still didn’t know why he’d done it. To prove a point? Because, like the tall mountain, she was there? Boredom? Maybe he’d slipped, and it had all been an accident. A delicious, yummy, bone-melting accident. If he could make her all quivery inside with a chaste three-second kiss, imagine what he could do if he really put some effort into it. She sighed. Her luck was not that good.

  Wait. Stop that thought. She was trying to disconnect from the Wordens, not get more involved.

  “Jayne,” Elizabeth said in a tone that hinted she’d spoken her name before.

  “Sorry. What?”

  “You’ll let me know if he brings someone else along to see one of the houses?”

  “Yes,” Jayne said. “That would mean he was getting serious and wanted her opinion on the house.”

  Would he do that—kiss Jayne while he was dating someone else? Stupid question. Men like him did what they wanted.

  “Very good.”
Elizabeth smiled. “You’re so sensible. Blaine and I were discussing that just the other night. How we’ve always been able to depend on you.”

  Jayne put down her coffee and stood. She didn’t feel sensible. She felt confused and cornered and out of place. No matter how old she got and how much time passed, she still felt like that sixteen-year-old watching her mother die and knowing she had nowhere to go and no one to care about her. She felt desperately alone and willing to do anything just to pretend to belong. Even be Elizabeth’s bitch.

  This might be the only family she had, but it was a seriously dysfunctional one, and if she wanted to survive, she had to escape.

  The good news was, she would be getting on a plane first thing tomorrow.

  The flight to Dallas was uneventful. Jayne had been checking the weather all week, and the last of the spring thunderstorms seemed to have blown through a few days before. Now the skies were clear and blue, and there wasn’t a hint of a cloud.

  She collected her luggage and made her way to the taxi stand, where she took a cab into the city. There was an impressive skyline that reminded her a little of L.A. When they exited the freeway, they drove through a beautiful tree-lined residential area.

  She’d been booked into the Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek. The Web site had been impressive, but the hotel was even more so. The elegant and spacious lobby screamed luxury. The Wordens would have been right at home.

  After registering, she went up to her room—a quiet, pretty space with a small balcony. There was a marble bath, a huge tub with a separate shower, and a big basket filled with fruit and candy, along with a card welcoming her.

  “We can’t wait to meet you in person,” the card read, and it had been signed by Paula.

  Jayne had never been courted before. Neither by a man nor a company. Talk about nice, she thought with a laugh as she threw herself on the bed. For the first time in a decade, her future was completely in her hands. She knew in her gut that the job was hers to lose. And she very much planned on winning.

  Eight

  WHEN SOMEONE RANG THE bell at her condo door, Jayne practically danced across the living room to open it. She was flying. Beyond flying… she was empowered, excited, and still having trouble believing that everything about her life was about to change.