“I have water in Nana’s room. Coffee will just make me more anxious, but thanks.”
The lady turned to him. “Any chance you’d like a free cup of coffee?”
“Thank you.” Finally, he caught a break today. “Yes, I would.”
“It has some cream in it, but no sugar.”
“Thank you.” He accepted the Styrofoam cup, and it immediately warmed his hand. “I’ll take coffee however it comes right now.”
The woman nodded. “Me too.”
Just one sip of the bitter liquid breathed new life into him. Though there’s no way it could have worked that quickly, he would have sworn it soothed the edges of his headache.
“Mom, the doctor just texted me.” The girl abruptly looked up from her phone. “He’s here if we want to talk to him.”
Yes, he could see the resemblance now--similar medium build, curvy frames, thick hair, petite features.
The elevator doors opened, and the woman walked into the hall. The girl turned and flashed him a quick smile as she exited the elevator. “I hope you feel better.”
It was a beautiful yet sad smile. He wondered what had brought them to the hospital, but he’d been too preoccupied with his own situation to ask.
* * *
Twelve hours had passed since the doctor conferred with them in the family room, after examining her grandmother. With a grim expression, he’d delivered the diagnosis Olivia had expected but hadn’t wanted to hear. “She doesn’t have long.”
She and her mother had said everything that needed to have been said. They were grateful for the years they had shared, their favorite memories, how much they loved her, and how much they would miss her. Now they just sat. Waiting.
The steady hum and beep of machines formed a mournful melody and broke the uncomfortable silence.
Her mom twirled the brooch she always wore. Instead of pinning it to her clothing, she had strung it on a long chain. Playing with it was a nervous habit. She’d fidgeted with the antique piece of jewelry when Olivia prepared to take her driving test, when her father was in a car accident, and now when her mother lay dying.
With nothing else to occupy her mind, as she anticipated either her grandmother’s recovery or slip into forever slumber, Olivia focused on the brooch. It was quite unique. Fashioned from antique gold and reflecting impeccable quality, the piece boasted a large sapphire. The nested between two lotus blossoms and served as the focal point of the oval-shaped pin. Four rubies accompanied the perfectly cut blue jewel. Crowning the piece was an intricate etching of a lotus flower. Its only flaw was a small dent on one side.
As a child, it had fascinated her. She had tugged at it and pressed the cool blue stone to her cheek. She often begged her mom to let her wear it. The answer was always the same. “No. When the moment is right, it will be yours.”
As she grew older, her appreciation for the clunky trinket waned. In fact, in high school she had made fun of her mom for wearing such old fashioned jewelry. Never one to anger easily, her mom always smiled smugly and ignored Olivia’s taunts.
But vintage jewelry was hip again, just not something she could manage successfully. Olivia’s attempt at the romantic, bohemian style had been a trip to Anthropology, where she walked out with an outfit that made her look like one of those peasant women depicted in the Natural History Museum’s display of the Old West. She could not pull it off. Olivia’s natural style could best be described as classic with a few creative twists.
Her grandmother stirred, and they leapt to her side. “How are you?” Olivia and her mother chimed in unison.
Nana’s lips curled slowly into a smile, and she peered into her daughter’s eyes. “It’s time.”
“No!” Confused and overcome with emotion, thinking Nana meant she was going to die, Olivia hovered over her grandmother and wept.
“Get off me child!” Nana declared loudly, reminiscent of her grandmother’s spunky character. “I’m not dying. It’s time for you to receive something.”
“Sorry.” Dumbfounded, Olivia stood upright and wiped the tears from her eyes, smearing what was left of her mascara, and asked, “What do you mean?”
“It is your turn.” Grandmother fluttered her eyelids, as if it was difficult to stay awake.
Olivia glanced at her mother and wondered if her grandmother was coherent. In response, her mom took her hand, and softly said, “Time for what, Mamma?”
“It’s time for your daughter to receive something.”
Nana made eye contact with Olivia. She allowed herself to get lost in the depth of her grandmother’s wise brown stare. Their gazes locked, for several deep breaths. Love washed through her. Olivia wished she could remain connected to her grandmother, forever.
Nana broke the silence. “It’s time, Olivia, for you to accept a family treasure that will change your life and open your heart.”
“Alright.” Olivia’s voice sounded foreign to her and tears ran down her mom’s face.
Was her grandmother serious or had she lost her grasp on reality? The three of them had spent hours talking over the past several days, and there had been no mention of family treasure.
“You are ready, dear girl, for love to dominate your life. You have a successful career and work hard, but your heart is lonely.” Now tears filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. Why was Nana saying such a thing? She knew Olivia and Travis were together.
Her mother remained silent but placed a hand on Nana’s bony shoulder, protruding from under the beige blanket.
“Nana.” Olivia wrenched her fingers. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“I love you.” Her grandmother reached up and touched the necklace. Olivia’s mom unclasped it, allowing the antique jewelry to slip into Nana’s palm. “I love you too, Momma.”
The oldest woman in the room squeezed the large pin. “This brooch is very special. It has been passed down through the family for generations. Specifically, to the oldest daughter.”
“Really?” Why had Olivia never been told that? She’d asked about the pin more times than she could remember, and her mother had never shared anything of its history. Fascinated, she inched closer.
“The woman who wears this brooch will dream about her perfect mate.” Her grandmother adopted a reflective expression, as if recalling a vision. “I did, your Mom did, as did those who came before us.”
“Really?” she repeated out of confusion. Olivia was sure that Travis was her true love. Despite his behavior that morning, he fulfilled everything on her list. And it was a long list. A very long list. Surely the brooch would confirm that he was her soulmate.
“It’s time for you to have it.” Nana flicked her wrist, encouraging Olivia to take the piece. Her mother smile through her tears and nodded.
“Thank you, Nana.” Olivia’s fingers shook, as she closed her fist around the pin. “I will cherish it.”
Nana grasped Olivia’s wrists and captured her gaze again. “I wish you love, my dear Olivia, but not just any love. May you enjoy the soul-deep, gratifying love I experienced with your grandfather.” Then Nana reclined, closed her eyes, exhaled, and the machines went crazy.
Chapter 2
Her tampon was the first thing to fall out. A pen, two lipsticks, a set of keys, and a compact followed close behind.
“If a condom is next, I’m switching to another security line.” The blonde in front of Emerson sucked in a breath. He cringed. He hadn’t meant to say that sentence loud enough to be heard.
She thrust out her hand, in an attempt to catch additional cascading items without success, and dislodged the tote on her shoulder. It joined the contents of her purse on the floor with a thud. She started crying.
“Oh, geez, I was only kidding. Let me help you.” Emerson stooped to join her on the floor, where he was afforded a flash of very tiny purple knickers and a shapely behind as she crawled, in a black sheath dress, under the security belt for a runaway lipstick. Immediately, his trousers stretched a little tight. He reminded his lower
half to behave, as he was in public and focused on providing assistance.
“Are you OK?” He scrunched lower to retrieve the tampon that had rolled under the cart holding the gray trays then returned to all fours.
Now kneeling, she made brief eye contact with him. “Sorry.”
It was her--the girl from the hospital with the beautiful sad smile. A smile he’d not been able to forget.
“It’s alright.” He handed her a lipstick tube and the tampon. “Here.”
She accepted the cosmetics, wiped away her tears, and inhaled deeply. “My grandmother died, and I’m a little emotional.”
“Of course. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Poor girl. That explained why she and her mom were at the hospital. She hadn’t seemed to recognize him. Then again, why would she? Not only was she distraught, he had looked like something from a horror movie.
“Thank you.” She blinked and more tears rolled down her cheeks.
Two passengers hovered. He stood and turned to face them. “Why don’t you go ahead?” They shuffled past and tossed their luggage onto the belt.
He lifted her tote and handed it to her as she rose. “Where are you headed?”
“Thanks.” She accepted her bag. “I’m going to Hawaii.” She put her belongings on the conveyor.
“Direct flight?” He slipped out of his shoes.
“No, through Los Angeles. You?” she asked, before she bent in half affording him a front row seat to admire her assets again.
He shifted his weight. “Oh, I’m going to Los Angeles.” He looked past the goods to see she struggled to unhook the clasps on her heels. He offered his arm to steady her.
“Thank you.” She wobbled, even though she used him for balance, but was finally successful in removing her sandals. She tossed them into a gray bin.
“You’re welcome.” He flipped open his ticket jacket. “I’m on the 3:50pm flight.”
“Me too,” she said over her shoulder as she stepped toward the scanner.
He waited as she padded barefoot into the machine. His vantage point allowed him a full view of her toned creamy legs that disappeared under her dress. With her arms above her head, her skirt rode high, just barely covering her perfectly curved bottom. His willy stirred again, reminding him it had been far too long since he’d had a shag.
Her hair was not pulled up today. It hung midway down her back in glossy golden waves. She was precious. His own thought surprised him. When was the last time he had room in his mind for a woman? Certainly no bird had struck his fancy since Camille. She’d been American, too. And when that had ended, he’d vowed no more Americans. But assisting the sad smile woman in her time of grief was hardly dating her.
After he’d gathered his belongings from the belt, he approached her. He couldn’t help himself. She sat on the bench, leaned over, and the roundness of the tops of her breasts escaped from a lacy undergarment. A large jeweled necklace dangled between her breasts as she put on very sexy black sandals. Damn, the woman was hot.
“Excuse me.” He paused and waited until she acknowledged him.
She slid the last strap through the buckle and looked at him. “Yes?”
“Were you in the lift with your Mom, a few nights ago, at the city hospital?” He offered her his hand to assist her in standing.
She accepted. “Were you the puffy-faced guy in the elevator?”
He pursed his lips. That was not what he wanted her to dwell upon when she thought about him. “Yes, that was me. Shellfish allergy.”
“Glad you’re better.” She squeezed his hand slightly before releasing it, adjusted her skirt, and picked up her bags.
He wanted a reason to stay in contact with her. “Would you allow me to be a gentleman and carry your items to the gate?”
She smiled crookedly at him, though tears welled in her eyes. “Sure. You obviously are not from here.”
He hoisted her tote over his shoulder. “No, England.”
“Thank you. I guessed that—the accent.” She opened her ticket holder. “We’re at Gate 12.”
They headed into the throng of holiday travelers in the terminal. Brightly wrapped gifts peeked from most carry-ons, and an inordinately high number of people wore red or green and several wore both. Some sported horrible knit sweaters displaying Santa or reindeer--one sweatshirt even had a blinking red nose on it. Exhausted-looking moms repeatedly scolded sugar-hyper children who ran into other travelers. Piled high displays adorned with holly and garland decorated the fronts of all the gift shops. Christmas music played within the stores and could be faintly heard in the terminal. Fast food menus included eggnog shakes and peppermint lattes. A Christmas tree, barely surviving the season, clung to its needles in front of the information booth.
They navigated the holiday cheer, arrived at the gate and settled into some plastic chairs, as the announcements of delayed flights due to inclement weather were broadcast. Theirs was not on the list. Thankfully. A week of warm weather presented a nice change to the frigid cold of the past week. Sure, he was used to the cold, England’s weather frequently chilled him to the bone, but he welcomed a reprieve.
The woman in mourning beside him was not especially chatty, which he could understand. He’d traveled a lot and normally a quiet woman at his side would’ve been a blessing, but the silence of this one unnerved him. The voice of reason in his head told him to leave her alone, while another voice encouraged him to engage her. The latter won. “Where on the plane are you sitting?”
“Oh, gosh, probably right in front of the bathroom. I just booked the ticket a few days ago. I took what they had, and it cost me a fortune.” She sighed.
“Hmm.” He should have probably left her alone, but he wanted to do something to make her feel better. “Let me see.”
“It doesn’t really matter where I sit. The whole plane’s going to the same place, right?” She slid down in the chair and leaned her head back.
“True, but it’s a long flight, and if they can place you in a more comfortable seat wouldn’t you prefer that?” He speared his fingers through his hair.
“Of course.” She pulled the ticket from her tote and passed it to him. He noticed she had delicate fingers, and her left hand was free of any jewelry. Another unexpected thought struck him. He wanted to take care of the sad smile woman. It was an instinctual or primal urge, he wasn’t sure.
Looking at her ticket, he groaned. “You are correct, middle seat, right in front of the bathroom. Give me your ID, and let me see what I can do.”
She hadn’t moved but stared at him. Had he said something offensive? Though he had no idea what she thought, he wondered if he’d crossed some imaginary boundary. They had just met. In that instant, he realized he hadn’t even asked her name. “I’m sorry, I’m Emerson Gascoigne-Lake from England.” He extended his hand.
She smirked and returned the gesture. “Olivia DuBois from California. Nice to meet you.” Then she dug into her luggage and gave him her California Driver’s License.
He glanced at it. Hollywood. Bloody hell, he prayed she wasn’t an actress like Camille. “My pleasure. You’ve had a tough week.”
He hoped he could use his frequent flier miles to upgrade her to First Class, so he could spend another six hours with her. He rarely acted spontaneously for strangers, and in her case, he knew he thought with his loins rather than his logic, but he pushed that truth aside and made his way to the ticket counter.
* * *
For the first time since she’d crossed paths with him, Olivia really looked at Emerson as he stood in line. He was an attractive man. He was tall, probably a bit over six feet, with a wiry but strong, not skinny, build. He had jet-black hair, really blue eyes, and a confidence and ease she’d only experienced in much older men. Perhaps it was because he was British and more refined than American men. Or perhaps it was because she dealt with spoiled brat actor clients who had never really grown up, no matter what level of success they achieved. Whatever the reason, he comforted her. And she c
ould use comforting right now.
Offering to carry her bag was kind, but attempting to secure a better seat, that was downright angelic—unless it wasn’t. A part of her anticipated warning bells, given he would likely expect something from her, in return for his assistance, but she really wasn’t concerned with that, because once they got to LA, she would continue to Maui to meet Travis, who anxiously awaited her.
“Flight 303 to Baltimore, cancelled. Flight 1218 to Atlanta, cancelled. Flight 406 to Dallas, cancelled. Flight 575 to …”
The announcements droned behind her thoughts, and she secretly prayed her flight to LA was not among them. She pulled her phone from her bag and texted her boyfriend: At airport, boarding soon. Can’t wait to see you! XO
Travis had arrived in Maui two days earlier. She had stayed with her mom and handled her grandmother’s affairs and funeral preparations. Because of the time difference, Olivia and Travis had not spoken. They’d only texted. The communications were light, and he’d been supportive of what she’d needed to do before coming to Hawaii. He’d even sent her a gigantic flower arrangement topped only in size and beauty by the one he’d sent to the funeral home for her grandmother.
She still believed that it would’ve been nicer if he’d offered to fly out and accompany her to the funeral, but as her mom had observed, the two of them had been pretty independent when they had dealt with their life events. Olivia had explained that they had a typical Los Angeles relationship between two successful business owners. She understood and accepted that his business and clients came before her, though it was obvious her mom hadn’t approved of that viewpoint.
Of course, she mused, in their case, a sandy beach and a Mai Tai, not clients, had kept him from joining her. That disturbed her.
Emerson strutted back from the counter, beaming like an Olympian who’d just won the Gold. “I have a surprise for you.” He flashed her a fabulous smile.
She bet that his wide grin coupled with his striking looks melted some hearts. “Really?”
“Yes.” He waved a boarding pass in the air.
A Jewel In Time; A Sultry Sisters Anthology Page 26
