by Calista Fox
“I don’t understand,” Jewel said, her brows knitting, her gaze on Rose-Marie.
Who very bitterly told her, “I didn’t want you in my house, Jewel.” She more deliberately iterated, “I didn’t want you in my home.”
Jewel’s head snapped back as though she’d just received a physical blow.
“What the fuck?” Rogen boomed.
Vin pulled Jewel to his side, his arm protectively around her waist as she reeled.
Rose-Marie’s eyes turned nearly translucent as tears flooded them. “It wasn’t your fault,” she assured Jewel. “It was all mine. From the very beginning.”
Rogen grabbed some tissues from the box on the coffee table and handed them to his mother.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, notably trying to dial down his rage. It was his mother he was speaking to, after all.
Rose-Marie sniffled and told him, “I love you very much, Rogen. From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I was in love with the idea of having a child. So was your father. He was so proud of himself when he learned we were having a son that he passed out cigars and scotch before you were even born. And when that day came … When he held you in his arms for the very first time…” She smiled softly, albeit shakily. “There was a sparkle in his eyes and a look of absolute awe and wonderment on his face. He was hooked. Instantly.”
There was an eerie resonation to Rose-Marie’s voice. Precisely what Jewel had heard from her at Bayview. Only now it was darker. Much more ominous this time.
Rose-Marie said, “You and your father bonded from those first seconds together. It only strengthened from there. Even when you disagree on something. It’s always been an unbreakable bond. Something you share. Something that’s special just between father and son.”
Jewel’s gaze slid to Rogen, who appeared as perplexed as she felt. And both of them were quite concerned about his mother’s cryptic tone and visibly unstable state. Vin was as well.
Rose-Marie glanced over at Sophia. She said, “A couple of months later, my best friend gave birth. To the most beautiful baby girl.” Her attention shifted to Jewel. The tears streamed, tugging at Jewel’s emotions, her heartstrings. “You were perfect.” Another quivering smile. “Plump cheeks, wide eyes, the tiniest fists. You were a happy baby, always smiling, and cooing, and … hiccupping. You hiccupped a lot.”
Perhaps it was the gradual change in Rose-Marie’s tone to an almost trancelike cadence that caused Vin’s arm to tighten around Jewel.
“Mother?” Rogen asked in a quiet voice. “Maybe you should sit.”
Her gaze remained on Jewel, and she continued, as though she’d not heard her son. “Your mother was instantly addicted to you. Everyone was. The way you smelled, how adorable you were. How delicate. She took you everywhere—she was always in town showing you off. All bundled up in pink. And every time I saw the two of you together, I was … jealous.” She choked on a half sob. “I was so very jealous. I wanted what Sophia had—a daughter of my own.”
She finally tore her gaze from Jewel and it landed on Rogen. “I wanted to feel that special bond that you and your father shared. That Sophia and Jewel shared. Your father wanted another child, too, but it took us years to conceive. I grew more and more frustrated. More envious. The feeling clawed at me. Ate away at me.” Her voice cracked with agony … and shame. “Eventually, I got pregnant. And Taylor was born. And I had my own perfect daughter bundled in pink.”
Emotion rushed through Jewel. Along with the disturbing notion that she knew exactly where this was headed.
Sophia quietly said, “Taylor was precious. So inquisitive, and mesmerized by everything.”
“Yes,” Rose-Marie agreed, the fat drops still tumbling down her cheeks, unbidden. And she didn’t bother to brush them away. She said, “For nine years, I was deliriously happy. The frustration vanished. The jealousy fled. Everything was blissfully normal. Peaceful.”
“And then Taylor got sick,” Sophia said on a broken breath, deeply affected no matter her current disassociation from her best friend—or her goading for Rose-Marie to reveal the truth to their children.
“When she died,” Rose-Marie said in a distant voice, “it was like my own heart stopped beating. Like I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. But the evil fate of it all was that my heart actually was still beating and I was still breathing. And even though I balled my fists and pressed them to my temples, thoughts kept churning in my head. I’d press the heels of my hands to my eyes, but I could always see Taylor’s fragile, lifeless body.”
“Oh, God!” Jewel turned into Vin’s chest and he wrapped his arms around her. Held her firmly.
“Mom,” Rogen coaxed, “sit. Drink some tea.”
“No,” she said. “Sophia’s right. I have to tell Jewel all of this. You, as well.”
Jewel pulled away slightly, but Vin kept his arms around her. She looked over her shoulder at Rose-Marie, a bit distorted in her vision because Jewel’s eyes were also filled with tears.
Rose-Marie said, “I was the one who sent Rogen away. Not my husband. I was the one who set it all up. I wanted Rogen out of the mansion. I was someplace so dark and terrifying in my mind and in my heart I didn’t know how to deal with him. I didn’t want him to see me like that. And, yes, I wanted to drive a wedge between the two of you. I didn’t want the two of you to ever be together again.”
Jewel turned to fully face Rose-Marie. Vin stayed close, his chest grazing her back so that she knew he was right there if she needed him.
She tentatively ventured, “You didn’t want to see me because your daughter was gone and your best friend’s was still alive. The best friend you’d envied so much.”
Rose-Marie nodded. “With Taylor’s last breath, all the jealousy returned. Tenfold. More.”
“Rose-Marie,” Jewel gently said.
“You remind me of her,” Rose-Marie told Jewel. “Remember strangers would think you were sisters? You both had blond hair and blue eyes. And she adored you. She followed you everywhere she could. Looked up to you.”
“I loved her as though she was my sister,” Jewel said, her heart wrenching.
“I shouldn’t have done what I did to you. Or to your mother. I’ve lived with the guilt and the jealousy for so long, and all I can think,” she said with reverberating agony as she clutched the gold necklace with Taylor’s birthstone, at her throat, that she always wore, “is that the angels took my little girl because I never deserved her.” She tore away the dainty chain, dropped it on the coffee table, and rushed out, flinging open the pocket doors with a heavy thud.
“Mom!” Rogen called.
“Wait!” Jewel lunged toward him, flattening her palms to his chest. “Just wait.” Jewel turned to her stunned and clearly heart-stricken mother and said, “She’s your best friend, and she is in a lot of pain. Go to her.”
Tears flooded Sophia’s eyes. It took her a few moments to come around. Then she hurried out of the room.
Jewel turned back to Rogen and threw her arms around him. Cried in his strong embrace. Not just for her, but for him as well. Rose-Marie and Gian. Her parents. Vin, who always got caught in the Angelini–Catalano drama. And steadily weathered the squalls.
* * *
It took some time, but Jewel eventually pulled away from Rogen. Asked, “Are you all right?”
“This isn’t about me,” he roughly said. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know. I think I might be in shock. And, yes, it is about you. That’s your mother who’s suffering so deeply.” She faced Vin. “And someone you care about.” She hugged him.
Vin whispered against her temple, “I know how much that hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too,” Rogen told her.
She pulled in a few more deep breaths. The tears kept falling, but a bit slower now as she gradually came around. Though she trembled from head to toe.
To Rogen, she asked, “I need to go somewhere. Can you drive me?” She reached for her clutch on the
sofa cushion and handed over her keys, since she wasn’t wholly steady. Then looked over at Vin. “I need you with us.”
His fingertips gently grazed her wet cheeks. “Of course.”
Rogen snatched more tissues and gave them to her. “You’re killing us here, Jewel.”
She blotted her skin. It really didn’t do any good.
They left through the back entrance; Jewel was grateful Tea & Sympathy had separate access to the event room. God forbid the crowd out front should bear witness to Rose-Marie dashing out with Sophia hot on her heels, followed by the three of them. All visibly wrecked by Rose-Marie’s story.
Vin opened the passenger door of Jewel’s convertible and she slid into the tan leather seat. Rogen climbed in on the driver’s side and Vin sat directly behind her. She moved the seat up to give him more legroom.
“I don’t see our moms,” Jewel commented as she scanned the parking lot.
“I’m sure they’re in Mother’s car,” Rogen said. “Her driver will get them safely to the estate.”
“That’s where I need to go as well.”
Rogen glanced over at her. “Jewel…”
“It’s not about your mother,” she assured him. “There’s something I have to do.”
He frowned, not liking her secrecy. But he pulled out of the space and hit the road.
No one spoke. What was there to say at the moment? It was impossible to relive those twenty or thirty minutes of Rose-Marie’s excruciating confession and the horrifying pictures she’d painted. And who the hell wanted to mention how unnatural she’d sounded, so traumatized and resentful? Toward herself.
Jewel couldn’t fathom existing with that sort of torment day in and day out. Year after year. Rose-Marie needed some serious help.
One thing Rose-Marie could count on, Jewel knew, was that her mother would lend the support needed. She’d perpetuated a lie for the Angelinis, after all. So that they could save face. Appear to be normal following their tragedy. Because Sophia knew the importance of appearances.
She would be able to commiserate and empathize with Rose-Marie’s feelings related to her daughter’s death, even if Sophia hadn’t lost a child herself. Jewel was certain it was a maternal thing that lived and breathed in every mother. And Sophia had adored Taylor.
While Jewel’s heart went out to Rose-Marie, Gian, and her own parents, she was a bit worried about Rogen. She rested a hand on his thigh. He covered it with his own hand. Gently squeezed.
They reached the porte cochere at the mansion and Rogen said, “There’s Mother’s driver.”
Jewel breathed a sigh of relief.
Vin opened her door again and she asked Rogen, “Will you pop the trunk for me?”
He did, and she rounded the back of the car to retrieve her oversize Louis Vuitton tote, hitching the straps over her shoulder. Vin shut the trunk for her.
“Want me to carry your bag?” he asked.
“No, thanks. This is something I have to do myself.”
They ascended the steps to the gorgeous terrace that ran the length of the front wing of the manor. A valet escorted them in, also asking if he could assist with Jewel’s tote. She politely declined.
Rogen and Vin flanked her as she headed toward Gian’s study. His assistant, Elizabeth, had a massive desk outside the sanctuary. Jewel was quite familiar with her, given all the time she’d spent calling Gian’s office directly to try to engage him in entertaining her offer on the land, prior to the gala. Which now seemed like a million years ago.
Elizabeth glanced up from her computer at the sound of Jewel’s heels clicking on the marble floor.
“Gentlemen. Miss Catalano,” the attractive chestnut-haired thirtysomething greeted them.
“I’d like to see Mr. Angelini.” Jewel didn’t wait for a response, just kept walking.
The assistant jumped up and rushed ahead of the trio by just a step so that she could dutifully announce, “Miss Catalano, Rogen and Vin to see you, sir.”
His head snapped up from paperwork he was reviewing. “I didn’t realize we had an appointment.”
“I’m sorry,” Jewel said, striving for a professional tone but not succeeding. She was still rattled to the core. “I didn’t have a chance to make one.”
“Then to what do I owe the honor?”
He didn’t sound condescending, as she’d half-expected. Rather, he seemed intrigued by her presence. Perhaps a bit admiring of her verve. She suspected very few people barged in on him.
Jewel stopped in front of his desk and set her bag on the corner. Then she extracted a large box. Placed it in front of him. She simply said, “Open it.”
Now he eyed her suspiciously. But he took the bait. He stood and unlatched the numerous sturdy clasps. Then folded back the lid. Another box was nestled inside, and he flipped the top. Peeled away layers of black velvet. Then let out a snort filled with distain.
“You’ve resorted to taunting me with the decanter?”
“Of course not,” Jewel said. “That scotch is a part of Angelini history. Your heritage. It belongs in your hands, not mine.”
“I don’t understand.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Rogen told you I had no intention of fulfilling my end of the transaction. That I’d find a way to keep the scotch, even though I’d compensate you for it.”
“Yes.”
“Then why bring it to me?”
“What purpose does it serve for a Catalano to keep it?”
One corner of his mouth jerked up. “To twist the knife, since I’d forever know it was in your possession.”
“Ah, see, that’s the thing, Mr. Angelini. There is no knife.” She gave him a steady, challenging look. “Is there?”
Beside her, Rogen said, “Mother told us everything. What happened after Taylor passed. How the Catalanos let you blame the distance you needed from them on an underhanded business deal. A guise you attempted to keep up by double-crossing Jewel.”
Gian Angelini stared at Jewel. She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. There wasn’t a hint of him wanting to deny the truth. Nor was there full-on remorse. It was almost as though … he clung to survival instincts.
Jewel’s heart constricted once more. The organ was getting more than its fair share of turns through the wringer. And it hurt.
Survival instincts she could understand and accept, though. This man was proud, and he was strong. And he was clearly willing to do whatever he had to in order to protect his wife—and her sanity. His family, as a whole.
Rogen was similar in so many ways. With the exception of the fact that he never would have lied about why the friendship and partnership had dissolved. That was where his DNA varied slightly, and Jewel knew it.
Finally, Gian said, “I’ll write you a check.”
“I don’t want a check,” she hastily told him. “This is a gift. From my family to yours.”
She grabbed her tote, whirled on her heels, and marched out.
Jewel had only made it to the curving grand staircases that led to the upper floors when Gian’s authoritative voice filled the cavernous foyer.
“Jewel.”
She stopped. Pulled in a breath.
At that instant, Rose-Marie and Sophia came from the great room, Sophia’s arm around the other woman’s shoulders. Both mothers still teary-eyed.
“My God.” Gian rushed over to his wife. Cupped Rose-Marie’s wet and flushed cheeks.
Sophia’s arm slid away and she approached Jewel, who gave her a monstrous hug.
“Are you okay?” Jewel asked.
“I will be. So will Rose-Marie. She needs more than the anti-depressants and Valium she’s been taking for years. She needs grief counseling and someone she can talk to on a daily basis about all these feelings she’s held in for so long. Honestly, I can’t imagine how she’s kept this all to herself.”
“She’s resilient,” Jewel said. “But no one’s invincible.”
Sophia pulled away. “You aren’t upset with her?”
“What’s to be upset about, other than how much pain she’s in? We can’t change the past. It happened. I just … I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me the real reason behind the ‘feud.’ That it didn’t really exist.”
Sophia stared at Jewel with watery eyes. “What would I have said to you, Jewel? That your Aunt Rosie, who you loved fiercely and spent so much time with, who loved you in turn, couldn’t bear the sight of you? That she couldn’t allow you and Rogen to be together—or, God forbid, marry—because she didn’t want you in her presence during the most horrific time of her life? Cara mia,” Jewel’s mother said, using the term of endearment for her daughter that she reserved for when she wanted to make a point. “How cruel would that have been to hear when you were just thirteen years old?”
Jewel swallowed down a lump of emotion. More tears burned. “Right. I would have been devastated.” She shook her head. She’d been devastated anyway, because Rogen had been sent to Trinity. But there might have been a psychological blip over the scenario her mother presented. “I’m not sure I would have fully understood at that age.”
Sophia kissed her on the cheek, then said, “You’re a good person, Jewel. Especially for sending me after Rose-Marie. I’m going to be the one to talk to her every day, in addition to professional help. And we’d like you to join us from time to time. She still adores you so much.”
Her mother swept away the tears on Jewel’s cheek with her thumbs. More activity in the foyer drew their attention. Her father came barreling through the front doors.
“What’s the emergency?” he demanded in an alarmed tone.
Jewel slid a private glance toward Rogen and smiled. He’d been right. Their parents still cared enough about one another to worry if something might be amiss at the others’ estate.
Conversely, and with a scowl, Vin announced, “I didn’t say it was an emergency, Mr. Catalano. I just told your assistant that it’d be a good idea for you to come over.”’
