“Les, you have no art,” Lexi said, “and don’t pull that ‘my skin is my palette’ garbage, either.”
“You mean you people are denying me my art and my lover?”
Spencer thought Lexi’s mother would faint.
“And how does that make you feel?” Dr. Tracey asked.
“I’ll tell you how it makes me feel. Worthless!”
Lexi audibly clamped her teeth together.
“I want to be accepted for who I am!”
“Les, nobody wants to accept your hairy armpits while we eat,” Gretchen said, voicing everyone’s opinion.
“Fine!” he snarled, and stomped off before he was forcibly escorted out by his irate father.
“More champagne while we await the return of my son?” Lawrence asked.
This suggestion was a hit with everyone, who eagerly held out their flutes.
A few minutes later, Les stormed back into the room, his arms crossed over an unbuttoned shirt and Lexi’s mother fixed a smile on her face. “Please be seated, everyone.”
“At least Lexi and Gretchen were able to bring their special friends,” Les complained, as the food was served. “For all I know, Arnaud is eating a frozen TV dinner.”
Spencer looked down at Lexi questioningly. She lifted her water goblet and whispered, “Just keep smiling.”
So Spencer smiled at Les.
Les raised his eyebrow and smiled back.
Oh, no.
Lexi reached her foot diagonally under the table and jabbed Les.
“W...e...l...l.” Les never stopped looking at Spencer. “This could be the start of—”
“Les, cut it out,” Lexi warned him.
“They named me Leslie. What do they expect?”
“Gravy, anyone?” warbled Lexi’s mother. She’d worn her apron to the table where Spencer’s turkey now reigned supreme.
Lexi’s aunt smiled thinly. “You’re so fortunate home-style potatoes are in fashion, Catherine. People will think the lumps are on purpose.”
“You see? Whatever I do, it’s criticized.” Gretchen buried her face in her hands.
As Dr. Tracey patted Gretchen’s back, she addressed the group at large. “Gretchen feels that her contribution of gravy isn’t valued.”
Catherine looked at Dr. Tracey as though she were an insect. “She’s to be commended for accepting the blame for—”
“I would love some gravy, Mrs. Jordan,” Spencer said. “I’d been holding back because I know I’ve already taken more than my share.”
“Then you’re to be commend—”
“And, Mother, as long as you’re passing dishes, I’d like more of the vegetable aspic,” Lexi said.
“Aspic!” Derek snickered.
“Yeah, as-pic!” echoed Melissa. “As-pic makes me si-ck, as-pic makes me si-ck,” she sang, demonstrating that she’d inherited none of her mother’s musical talent.
“Melissa!”
“Emily, I’ll take care of it,” Marshall said. “You must conserve your voice.” He stood and reached across the table to take the aspic away from a surprised Lexi.
“Young lady,” he said, plopping a spoonful on Melissa’s plate. “You are to eat every mouthful of that.” -
“Noooo!” Melissa wailed.
“She’ll throw up,” Derek. said, looking gleeful. “She knows how.”
Spencer looked at the crying girl and believed him.
“Is this how you take care of the children?” Emily asked her husband.
“Yes, sweetheart.” Marshall forced a spoon into the sobbing Melissa’s hand. “While you’re off crooning into the ears of sweating tenors, I’m raising our children.”
“Only on the nanny’s day off, dear.”
“I hear resentment from you, Marshall,” said Dr. Tracey.
“And speaking of sweating...” Les flapped his shirt.
“It is a trifle warm.” Lexi’s aunt Carolyn fanned herself. “The heat must be making my grandchildren cranky.”
“Which you asked us to turn up to prevent Emily catching cold,” Catherine pointed out smugly.
“Well, let’s turn on the friggin’ air-conditioning!” Les stood.
“We can’t do that, Leslie,” Catherine insisted.
“Then I’m going to be comfortable at Christmas dinner in my own home!” He jerked off his shirt and sat down. “Now, I’d like more turkey, dressing, potatoes and the gravy!”
Les reached his arm across the table to grab the dressing, which was in front of his aunt Carolyn.
She recoiled and Les saw her. “What’s the matter? Can’t you appreciate another person’s art?”
“That’s not a very good dragon,” Derek said over Melissa’s hiccuping wails.
Les stopped chewing and looked at his arm where a smeared dragon looked like it was crashing near the vicinity of his elbow.
Gretchen started laughing. “They’re fake! Les’s tattoos are fake!”
Dr. Tracey spoke, “Gretchen, rather than make fun of your brother, you should realize that he has been stripped of the mask he presents to the world. Use this opportunity to get to know the true person.”
With a howl, Les bolted from the table.
Melissa threw up.
“So this is what I’ve been missing all these years,” Spencer said to Lexi as her mother ran for the kitchen.
“Kinda brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it?” she said, and lifted her glass of champagne.
Carolyn was clucking over poor Melissa. “Don’t worry about it, dear. It was the rich food.” She helped the little girl down from the table as her parents tried to deal with the mess.
“Rich food!” Catherine had returned with paper towels in time to hear her sister’s comment. “It was your son-in-law trying to choke his daughter!”
“Auntie Catherine isn’t used to cooking for little people. Poor Auntie Catherine doesn’t have any grandchildren of her own.”
“And I’m not likely to get any!” Catherine gestured to Spencer. “After what he’s seen today, I wouldn’t blame Dr. Price for not wanting to marry into this family!”
“Mother!” Lexi visibly cringed.
Dr. Tracey stood. “I sense the repressed hostility in this family. You should all share your feelings with each other. I can offer you group rates.”
In the midst of the babble that followed, Lawrence Jordan stood and gestured for Spencer to follow him. He glanced at Lexi.
“Go,” she whispered. “Run for your life.”
“I’ll wait for you,” he whispered back, and followed her father into the den.
“I see that in addition to rescuing dinner with a turkey, you came armed with a fine bottle of port, as well,” Lawrence said, getting two glasses from the bar. “You are a man of rare talent and perception.”
“Thank you, sir,” Spencer said.
Lexi’s father poured two glasses of port, handed Spencer one and gestured to a well-worn leather couch. “Now let’s hear more about this mechanical hand of yours.”
It was the opening he’d been waiting for. The opening he’d been preparing for. Even an average-size grant from this foundation would free him from the fund-raisers that annoyed the head of the Research Facility. It would keep the team together and let Spencer get back to design work.
And it was all within his grasp. Drawing a deep breath, Spencer began to pitch his project to Lawrence Jordan.
AFTER DR. TRACEY handed out her business cards, Emily and her family left, followed by Aunt Carolyn and a red-nosed Uncle Ben.
It occurred to Lexi that no one had been offered eggnog, yet the bowl was nearly half-empty. Gretchen tried to disappear up the stairs, but Lexi confronted her.
“You wanted the whole Christmas experience, so you can get yourself into the kitchen and help with the dishes.”
“Excellent therapy, Gretchen.” Dr. Tracey backed her up.
And it actually was. With Dr. Tracey’s direction, the three women cleared the air and finished all the dishes, too. Dr.
Tracey even persuaded a subdued Les to come downstairs with his pen-and-ink designs, which had been the basis for his tattoos. And, to be truthful, they were surprisingly good when they weren’t displayed on sweating skin.
Lexi was also astounded to find out that Gretchen had been jealous of her all these years. And it wasn’t surprising that their mother was jealous of her sister for giving birth to a musical prodigy.
Lexi was surprised to realize how much she’d sought her parent’s approval, and was still doing so. She did feel smug in reporting her peace with Emily and how she wouldn’t have wanted Emily’s life.
Lexi hadn’t meant to leave Spencer alone for so long, and had half expected him to have gone home. She went looking for him and found him in the den with her father. A football game was on the television, but the sound was barely audible.
What was audible was their conversation. Spencer was discussing the latest breakthrough on the robotic hand.
Lexi knew enough about the stupid hand to last her a lifetime, but she leaned against the doorway and listened for a moment, liking the way Spencer’s face looked, its intensity as he discussed the project.
He’d even managed to interest her father.
Lexi wandered into the room and sat on the arm of the leather sofa where Spencer was seated. She was a little surprised to see all the rough drawings littering the coffee table, but she had been in the kitchen for a long time.
Spencer turned and smiled at her, but kept talking to her father. “And it was only after Lexi’s roommate, Francesca, worked with us that I realized that there is a whole new area where the hand can be used.”
Yeah, and what about me? Lexi thought, knowing she’d be horrified if he revealed her part in the hand’s development to her father.
“Musicians. Think of the great artists who can no longer perform because of arthritis, or tendonitis or just plain weakness. Imagine giving them the means to continue to perform.”
Very clever, Spencer, Lexi thought.
“It’s the perfect marriage of science and the arts,” her father said, looking more animated than Lexi had seen him look all day.
“It takes a man of vision to recognize that.”
Maybe he was laying it on a touch too thick.
“I’ve always been considered a man who can discover new talent,” Lawrence said.
“And so often unrecognized, I’ll bet.”
Lawrence nodded. “That’s true.”
“You’re a better man than I am,” Spencer said. “This has been years of my life, and I tell you, when we finally market the hand, I’m going to enjoy the recognition. Of course, I’ll be sharing it with those who had the foresight to back me during the development phase.”
Warning bells clanged. “Hey, Dad, we never got any of your eggnog,” Lexi broke in.
“On the sideboard, honey. Now, how long will it be until you have a working prototype?” her father asked.
Lexi didn’t like the way the conversation was going.
“We’ve got a rudimentary one now. As for a final version?” Spencer spread his hands. “Only time and money will tell.”
“Spencer is a whiz at raising money, Dad. He has lots of backers—”
“Small backers. It would cut the administrative load significantly if we had to work with only one major source of funds.”
“I can see that.” Lawrence looked off into the distance.
“Spencer is going to help me think of fund-raising schemes for the music building at Littletree,” Lexi said, not even trying to hide the desperation in her voice. “The old one is falling apart. We’re losing prospective talent right and left. That’s why I wanted to talk with you—”
“Alexandra.” Her father held up his hand. “Spencer and I are discussing his robotic hand.”
She looked at Spencer. He gazed back, wariness in his eyes.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
He’d known she was going to ask for funds for a new music building. While the accomplishment wouldn’t be on Emily’s level, being the driving force behind establishing Littletree as a music conservatory that turned out top-notch talent had been the way Lexi was going to make her mark in the music world.
All her warm fuzzies toward the poor little orphan boy evaporated. She felt cold inside and the silver clips he’d given her became heavy weights in her hair.
But with the coldness came great clarity. She may have been sidetracked in pursuit of her goal, but he’d never forgotten his. Rip had warned her.
This was the man known for his outrageous fund-raisers, including one infamous calendar. And, like an idiot, she’d brought him to her father. Spencer had been telling her all along how important his project was to him, while she’d flung herself at him in leather underwear. She felt the humiliation burn in her face. She’d actually thought there might have been a chance for a relationship between them, but he’d only been stringing her along to get to her father.
Not only that, she and Francesca had provided him with the perfect justification to approach the Cultural Arts Foundation for money.
“You don’t have much time before the end of the year, but I’ve got grant applications here in my desk.” Her father was pulling open the file drawer. “I’d like to see an application from you if you’re interested.”
“Of course I’m interested,” Spencer said, but he was looking at Lexi as he spoke.
The snake. The traitor. “As long as you’re looking for forms, you might as well give me a set, as well,” she said. “The Littletree music building needs to be razed. The situation is critical.” She looked directly at Spencer as she spoke.
“That’s more the jurisdiction of the board of regents, isn’t it?” Spencer asked.
“I agree with Spencer,” said her father.
“Then I’ll give them the application,” Lexi said.
“If you insist, sweetheart. Spencer, there will be a reception here on the twenty-eighth, honoring Mr. and Mrs. Robards and their houseguest.” Frowning, he looked off in the distance. “Some pianist. Lexi’s mother would know his name. However, since they’ve been major donors to both Littletree and to the foundation, all the foundation trustees as well as the regents should be in attendance.” Lawrence handed a set of forms to each of them. “It would be beneficial for you to meet everyone. Perhaps you and Lexi can demonstrate the musical applications of the robotic hand.”
No way.
“Lawrence?” called Lexi’s mother. “Would you come to the kitchen? You really must see Leslie’s—Les’s art.”
“If you two will excuse me?” her father asked.
Lexi barely noticed him leave. She stared hard at Spencer. “Don’t apply to the foundation.”
“Your father was very interested—”
“You knew I was going to ask my father for money for the music building.”
“He didn’t mention it.” Spencer carefully folded the application papers and put them in the breast pocket of his jacket.
Lexi wanted to rip them out of his hand. “Because I haven’t yet! The first time we met, I told you I wanted him to be in a good mood. That was why you were coming to dinner, remember?”
Something flickered in his eyes. “Actually, no, I didn’t.”
Could this person be the same man she thought she knew? “I don’t believe you, and I don’t believe what you’ve done. You have dozens of sources for funding. I don’t.”
His face was hard and determined. “Because I’ve spent years cultivating them.”
“I don’t have years. You saw the music building. It’s falling apart. We’re losing faculty. I’m even nervous about Francesca being up in Indiana. They’ve got a fabulous music department there and I’m afraid she’ll apply for a faculty position.”
“So why don’t you apply, too?”
And that was the stake in the heart of their relationship, such as it had been. Talk about being suckered.
“Littletree has potential. I’m not giving up on it.” She stood. H
e stood, too, looking as good as he ever had, darn it. “You’d better leave now.”
11
“I’M TELLING YOU, Lexi, your strategy is all wrong.”
“Francesca, didn’t you hear me? Spencer Price got my father interested in that stupid hand project!”
They were in Francesca’s room as she unpacked. Lexi had gone to the airport to pick her up, and the entire way home she’d ranted about Spencer’s betrayal.
“I heard you all fifty times. You know why you’re so angry?”
“Because he’s going after my money?”
“You’re angry because you found out he’s going to apply for the grant before you slept with him. Now he’s officially the enemy, and you think you can’t sleep with him.”
“Well, I can’t!”
Francesca rolled her eyes.
“Can I?”
“You can, and you should.” She zipped up her suitcase. “Look at you. You’re all tense and worked up and angry, and it’s not worth it.”
“I happen to think our future at Littletree is worth it.”
“Worth giving up Spencer Price?”
“I never had Spencer Price,” mumbled Lexi.
“Which is my point. And the reception tonight is your chance to get him.”
Frankie didn’t expect her to show up there, did she? “I am not going to help him demonstrate that thing! And maybe my father is only being polite because he thinks Spencer and I are a couple. I’ll tell him we’ve broken up.”
“Wrong.”
“Why?”
“You’re missing a fabulous opportunity. You should go to the reception tonight.”
“Again, why?”
“To keep him off balance. To distract him—even get him to leave with you before he can do any damage. He knows you’re angry, right?”
“I hung up on him three times.”
“He called you three times?”
“Maybe more. I only answered the phone three times.”
“Very promising.” Francesca pushed her suitcase under the bed and dumped her laundry in the hamper. “You’re in a good position.”
“For what?”
“Seducing him.”
“I already tried that. Besides, he’s a double-crosser. He no longer holds any attraction for me,” Lexi said virtuously, though untruthfully.
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