“Has anybody been snooping around my place? Asking questions, maybe?”
George tossed down the liquor and contemplated the ceiling. “Well, there was someone. Had a white van parked by your place a few months back . . .”
“That was my dad, George. Anybody else?”
George thought hard and started to shake his head but held up a shaky finger. “There was that delivery guy. Said he had a package for ya. I told him he could leave it with me or with your sister. He said he tried but she wouldn’t answer the door and you needed to sign for it or somethin’. Anyways he took himself off and didn’t leave nothin’. Didn’t look like a delivery guy anyways, if you ask me. All suited up for a funeral like he was.”
So that’s how he found out about Jen. Naturally the bastard neglected to mention the sister part when he outed him to Zoe.
“Thanks, George. Sorry to bother you. I put your truck out back.”
“No problem. Not like I’ll be needin’ it any time soon.” He chuckled and poured another shot. “Make sure that ‘No Vacancy’ sign’s lit when you leave, will ya?”
Jeff nodded and left, flipping on the neon sign on his way out. As if anyone in their right mind would consider staying here for the night.
Heart heavy, he walked down to the door to his studio and let himself in. Jen’s paints were out and a canvas sat on her easel, faint pencil marks outlining the scene she intended to paint. She’d been at the easel until she heard his key in the lock, he knew. He rubbed his eyes and took a long breath.
“Jen, it’s only me. You can come on out.”
The door opened instantly and his sister frowned at him. “Why are you home so early? The gallery hasn’t even closed yet, has it? Besides, I figured you and Zoe would be celebrating all night tonight.” She studied him as he sat on the stool in front of his workbench. “Okay. Tell me. How bad is it?”
“Pretty bad. Really bad, actually.” Bad enough to get me thrown in jail.
Jen sank onto her stool. “Oh God.”
“Zoe knows I didn’t paint those pictures. That asshole who loaned Zoe the money to get started must have followed me here. He talked to George and said he had a package for me. When he didn’t want to leave it with him, George said he could leave it outside your door since you were my sister.”
“Oh crap. I remember him now. I told him to leave the package with George.” She flattened her hand against her chest. “I should never have said anything. I—”
“Jen, it’s not your fault. George told him all he needed to know. I’m not sure how he knew that you did the paintings instead of me, but he told Zoe positively enough that I figured there was no point to deny it.”
Jeff ran his hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. He blew out a long breath. “You don’t have to worry, Bug. He didn’t say you were my sister. Just the ‘woman I was living with.’ That was enough to send Zoe over the edge.” Moisture rimmed his eyes and he scrubbed his face with both hands. “She looked so hurt, Bug. It tore me up. Russ and Amanda and Dev all just stood there and stared at me. Waiting for me to deny it. Say it was all a pack of lies. And I couldn’t do it. Zoe took my key and told me to get out.”
Now Jen’s eyes filled with tears. One more person he’d hurt. Again. No hope for that second operation now, especially if he was in prison. Shit. Piss. Fuck. He ought to be shot.
“This is all my fault,” Jen moaned. “If I just had the guts to show my ugly face to the world this would never have happened.”
“No, Bug. You know it was my idea, right from the beginning. I practically had to twist your arm off to get you to agree. No matter what happens to me, I’ll swear you had nothing to do with it. That I tricked you into giving me those paintings. It’s bad enough you have to give up your other surgery. Right now I’m not sure what that bastard Barker will do. Until I find out, you just keep a low profile, understand?”
Jen nodded. “Okay.”
Jeff scooped up the keys to his bike. “I’ll be late. Don’t wait up.”
Zoe returned to her living room, eyes still red and face blotchy, but at least the tear tracks were gone. The hot coffee warmed her insides that had been icy since Fredrick dropped his bomb this morning.
Russ nodded at her appearance. “Better, Zoe.” He paused as if considering where to begin. “Part of this story isn’t mine to tell and I’ve made promises I won’t break. But, in light of Fredrick’s intentional omissions I’d like to clarify one thing. The woman who lives with Jeff is not his lover. In fact there is no romantic involvement between the two of them.”
“Then why didn’t he tell me about her?”
“That is the part I can’t speak to. You need to let Jeff explain his motives.”
“Easy for you to say. With the relationship we had, at least I thought we had, he could have told me anything without worrying that I’d . . . I’d . . .” Think less of him? Stop trusting him? Stop loving him?
“Before you finish that sentence, Zoe, I suggest you consider why you never told him about your own problem with the perfidious Mr. Barker.”
Touché.
“While you contemplate your motives, may I ask you for a copy of this contract you signed?”
“Of course. It’s downstairs in the office. I’ll get it.”
While Zoe was gone, Russ checked his cell phone which had vibrated a few moments earlier. The screen showed a text message from Jeff. “Need to talk. Call me ASAP.” Russ replied quickly. “With Zoe. Will call soon. Hang in there.”
Zoe returned with the document and handed it to Russ. While he read it, she paced. The news that Jeff’s mystery woman was not his lover eased her feelings of betrayal. But despite Russ’ comments she still couldn’t understand why he’d kept her identity a secret.
Russ put the papers down. “It appears to be a fairly straightforward contract to me, although I’m no lawyer.”
“I agree. That’s why I had no problem signing it. It’s the matter of his unspoken addendum that has me in such a bind.”
“I think you need to do two things. Somehow exchange your copy for the original and then convince Judge Abernathy that you did not make the swap in the first place. Once we’ve accomplished that, Barker will have no leverage to enforce those unwritten clauses in your contract.”
“Right. Simple. Except I don’t know Judge Abernathy well enough to convince him of my innocence and I have no idea how to get the original out of Fredrick’s townhouse. Other than those obnoxious details it sounds like the perfect plan.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t help, Zoe.”
“You’re right. Sorry.” She sighed.
“When you went to Fredrick’s house, did you notice if he had an alarm system?”
Zoe nodded. “He does.”
“I don’t supposed you noticed the disarming code?” Russ arched his brows.
Zoe chuckled. “I knew it . . . from before. It’s his birthday.”
“Good. Now all we need is a key.”
“That, I can’t help you with. And besides, how will we get my copy from Judge Abernathy?”
Russ gave her a Cheshire Cat smile. “That much I can handle. The judge and I are old acquaintances. While he knows his law, as an art collector he was an easy mark for Fredrick Barker. I’m pretty sure I can convince him of your innocence, once he has his original back. I’ll also mention that doing business with Barker is a dangerous proposition in the future.”
Zoe snapped her mouth closed. “Really? You’re friends with this judge? Unbelievable.”
“I wouldn’t say we are friends, Zoe. He owns several of my canvases. We’ve chatted at quite a few art shows. Enough that he trusts my opinions about art, anyway.” Russ finished his coffee and stood. “I have to go, Zoe. I’ll be back tomorrow when the gallery opens. Meanwhile we need to find a way t
o get inside Barker’s townhouse.”
Zoe walked him to the door. “I hope Jeff knows what a good friend you are, Russ. And while we haven’t solved my problem, I feel better now that you know my situation, and are still willing to help.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.
“Try to get some rest, Zoe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Zoe had no sooner closed the door than her phone rang. The sound filled her with dread. She looked at the screen on her cell phone. ‘Unknown Caller.’
Chapter 22
Zoe didn’t have the energy to deal with another problem. She stared at the screen until the ringtone stopped. A second later the voicemail indicator lit up. She took a deep breath and punched the button.
“This message is for Zoe Silvercreek. You don’t know me, but it’s important that I talk with you. Please, please call me back. It’s urgent. My name is Jennifer Petrosky.”
Zoe stared at her phone as though it had suddenly switched to a foreign language. Jennifer Petrosky? This had to be Jeff’s mystery woman. She rubbed her tired eyes and tried to think. The emotional drain from today’s revelations had encased her brain in molasses. She needed sleep.
But she needed answers more.
She dialed the number.
“Oh thank God. For a minute there I thought you wouldn’t even talk to me.”
“I debated it,” Zoe replied. “What do you want? No, first, who are you?”
“I’m Jeff’s sister. Those are my paintings you’ve been selling.”
His sister? All these months and he never mentioned he had a sister. And his dad didn’t either, even on the drive to Cambridge to pick up the cases. He must have been in on it, too.
She felt doubly betrayed now. And twice the fool.
“Well, thank you for setting me up as a fraudulent art dealer. It should really kick-start my business.” Zoe hovered her finger over the disconnect button. She listened to the sigh on the other end.
“Look, I know it’s late and you must be tired, but I think we should meet. I can’t explain all this over the phone.”
It was Zoe’s turn to sigh. “Sure, why not? Come on over. I assume you know where I live.”
“Yeah, I do. But, um, I don’t have any way to get there. I don’t suppose you could come here?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any transportation either. Jeff usually takes me . . .” Her voice trailed off. That first bike ride to the cove flashed through her head. Then the painting of it, the first one she’d sold. Guess he must have taken his sister there, too.
“Oh. Damn. I don’t know when he’ll be back and he won’t be happy when he finds out I’m talking to you.”
Oh, well, let’s not make Jeff unhappy.
“Look, Jen, it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. There’s really nothing you can tell me tonight that will change anything. I’ll have another busy day tomorrow and, assuming I’m not in jail, I’ll have a ton of paperwork to take care of after I close. If you still want to talk Sunday night I’ll ask my friend to drive me over. That okay with you?”
“Sure. Fine. Thanks. Just call when you’re on your way, okay?”
“Will do.”
“And, Zoe?” Her voice softer, even more hesitant.
“Yes?”
“Please don’t—”
“Have Jeff arrested?” Zoe was too sad, and too mad, to be polite, or worry about the pain she might be inflicting on Jennifer Petrosky.
“Yeah. He’s a good guy, Zoe. You must know that much about him by now.”
“Yeah, well, a lot of things I thought I knew are turning out to be lies, so . . .” She blew out a breath and closed her eyes. She needed a handful of aspirin to tone down the headache pounding behind her eyes.
The silence on the other end of the line stretched on. Finally Zoe gave in. “Don’t worry, Jen. I’m not going to do anything, but you’d better hope and pray Fredrick Barker doesn’t either.”
“I’ve been doing that since Jeff told me what happened at the gallery today.”
Zoe heard the sigh. Felt the unspoken anguish. She wasn’t the only one in pain tonight. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what time, okay?”
“Okay. Bye, Zoe.”
“Bye.”
Zoe went to the medicine cabinet, shook out three aspirin and looked at herself in the mirror. Dark rings circled her eyes and contrasted starkly with her unusual pallor. Shell-shocked. That was how she looked. She downed the aspirin with bottled water, stripped off her clothes and fell into bed. Let exhaustion drag her under. Tomorrow would be another hellish day.
Jeff met Dev and Russ at Ed’s Diner. Although Ed kept it open late in the summer, by eleven o’clock there were only a few patrons at the counter. Jeff took the booth farthest away from the other customers. Dev and Russ slid in opposite him and they all ordered coffee.
“How’s Zoe? Today must have been pretty hard on her.” Jeff scrubbed his face with both hands. The image of Zoe’s face when Barker told her about ‘the other woman’ was burned into his brain. How did he keep hurting the people he cared for the most?
“She’s actually handling it much better than I expected. Not that she isn’t pissed at you, pal. We had a long talk and although I didn’t tell her everything I did assure her that the woman in question was not your lover. I left the rest of that explanation up to you.” Russ sipped his coffee. “What are you going to do?”
“Other than find Barker and beat him to a bloody pulp? I have no idea.”
“Let’s not add assault to the list. That will only give him more ammunition,” Dev countered.
“And me a lot of satisfaction.” Jeff’s fists clenched on the table. “But you’re right. Much as I’d like to rearrange his face, it wouldn’t help the situation.” He sat back and sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to absolve myself. I know I fucked up. I should have told Zoe the truth right from the beginning. But I still don’t understand why she ever made a deal with that sleazebag to begin with.”
“Yes. You and Zoe need to chat about that, and soon, if we’re going to salvage her gallery and your future from this debacle. One thing in your favor is that Barker tricked Zoe and holds an accusation of art forgery over her head as well, so she has a certain amount of guilt about keeping that from you.” Russ filled Jeff in on the details. “Now we have to figure out a way to get into Barker’s townhouse and get that original to return to Judge Abernathy.”
“Give me a day to check out his place. I’ll figure a way in. We just need to keep him away for about ten minutes.” No one else would do anything illegal to clean up his mess. If he got caught breaking and entering, it would be no more than he deserved. He wouldn’t risk anyone else he cared about to fix his mistakes.
Zoe would have another busy day at the gallery tomorrow. He’d use the time to scout out Barker’s house. When the gallery closed, he’d talk to Zoe, if she agreed to see him. Russ seemed to think she’d be willing to hear his side of the story. He hoped to hell that was true.
Chapter 23
Jeff parked his bike behind the gallery and checked his watch. Six-fifteen. The gallery closed at six on Sundays. He assumed the holiday weekend didn’t change that. Zoe should be locking up. He’d texted her earlier and asked to meet. Her reply gave him no indication that she might be in a forgiving mood.
‘K. Six-thirty. My place.’
The only thing that gave him any hope was Russ’ message that she’d kept his sculpture front and center in the gallery.
He couldn’t bring himself to talk to Jen this morning. He screwed up and ruined her hopes for that second operation—at least for many months. He had nothing good to tell her, so he’d kept his distance.
The dim yellow circle cast by the light over the back door wasn’t welcoming tonight. Jeff knocked and waited, the
tension between his shoulder blades ratcheting up with each passing second. He heard the deadbolt slide and braced himself. The door opened to reveal Zoe looking tired but still lovely in a long navy skirt and turquoise tank top.
She didn’t smile. Thin gold bangle bracelets on her wrist chimed as she gestured. “Come in.”
He entered and stood just inside the door flipping his keys in and out of his palm. Her eyes were somber. All of her usual energy, her joyful spirit and the impish humor normally sparkling there had been replaced by sadness and despair. Silence stretched between them like a barbed-wire fence, jagged and forbidding. It took all of his will power not to reach for her.
At last Zoe tilted her head toward the stairs. “Let’s go up.”
He followed, guilt an iron band around his heart. Just inside her apartment door, he stopped again, not sure where to go or what to say.
Zoe dropped her keys into the basket on the bar, then went to the fridge and took out a bottle of wine. She reached up to get a glass and looked over her shoulder in silent question.
He shook his head. Later would be plenty of time to drown his sorrows in alcohol, right now he needed a clear head. He expected anger, disappointment, or scathing comments about his duplicity. Her gloomy gaze and downturned mouth were much more potent punishment.
She poured herself a glass of pale gold wine and took a seat on the sofa. She gestured for him to sit at the other end. “Tell me.”
He swallowed with difficulty and cleared his throat. Apologies first. Explanations second. Begging for forgiveness last. He was willing to do a lot of that.
His By Design Page 22
