by Kris Jayne
“No. Polycarbonate.”
“The tables are so modern compared to the paneling and the heavy drapes. And the colors. Pink, cheetah, and what’s that made of?” Shannon pointed to the long sofa table behind the darker pink couch.
“Just chrome. I kept the walls dark and traditional, so I can show off the lightness and cleanness of the furniture. Like the dining table.” Vivienne directed Shannon to the other side of the room where she had a massive glass dining table flanked by oval-backed chairs in an antique cream wood and pewter velvet.
“Do you sell these pieces?” Shannon couldn’t imagine keeping such expensive pieces for show.
“Of course. I change out the pieces in here every four or five months. It’s a showroom, but everything is for sale.”
“You’re amazingly creative. I’m a little worried about what I’ll be able to do for you,” Shannon admitted.
Vivienne waved off Shannon’s doubt.
“Oh, you can help me pull samples and go through vendor catalogs and flag items of interest for clients. There are all sorts of ways I could use an extra pair of hands. I’d been about to hire an assistant when my brother called me about you. This will be simpler than having someone full-time. Trust me. You’re doing me a favor.”
Shannon didn’t believe her, but the thrill of being surrounded by the color and richness of a real interior design studio knocked out any desire to object.
“Your office is upstairs?”
“Yes. I’ll show you the kitchen and the den and then we can head upstairs.”
In Vivienne’s impressive office—decked in maple, taupe, and brass—Shannon started to relax. She sat across Vivienne’s lacquered table, which she’d learned was burlwood, and discussed her duties and schedule.
“I can rearrange my schedule and work here once a week, I think. It depends on what the pay would be,” Shannon ventured. She pulled back her shoulders and kept her eyes level with Vivienne’s.
“Fifteen dollars an hour. That’s what I could pay you,” Vivienne answered.
Shannon heart skipped. She’d make more than she would waitressing, except on the weekends.
She paused a tick as if contemplating whether the offer met her requirements. “That could work. I need to work during the week. Weekends are the busiest time at the restaurant and when I see my daughter.” Then, Shannon wondered if she shouldn’t have asked for more money.
“Not a problem. Tuesdays or Wednesdays are best.”
“Let’s do Wednesdays,” Shannon offered with an excited smile.
“Great. Can you start next week?”
Shannon needed to talk with her boss Penny about the schedule, but if nothing else, she could trade shifts with someone to free herself up.
“Perfect. I can’t thank you enough. I know you keep saying that you need someone and everything, but I know I’m only here because of Jonah.”
“Not only because of Jonah,” Vivienne admonished her. “I liked the ideas in your portfolio. I like your energy. You seem eager to learn. I like helping my fellow women. Jonah dropped your name in my ear, but that’s not the only reason I’m hiring you.”
“Still, thank you. And I’ll have to thank Jonah.”
A small twitch struck Vivienne’s brow. “My brother likes you.”
Shannon dropped her eyes and doodled on her notebook with a sigh. “We’re becoming friends.”
“I see that. And I love my brother dearly. I just—it’s none of my business.” Vivienne shook her head and clasped her hands together.
“What? I’d like to know,” Shannon probed.
“He’s dated lots of different women. It’s sometimes a mistake to get too attached. You seem like you’ve had some trouble in your life. I’d hate for my brother to be part of your trouble.”
Shannon lifted her chin and laughed. “Jonah, trouble? I’ve dated trouble, Vivienne. Real trouble. It’s not my first rodeo. Besides, like I said, we’re friends. That’s it. I don’t even have time for men.”
“Famous last words when it comes to love.”
“Look, I’ve spent most of my life chasing one man or another. First, it was Jeff. Then, that fell apart. Then, a slime trail of—sorry—assholes until I found my second husband, who I don’t even want to talk about. Jonah might be a playboy, but on his worst day, he couldn’t cause me as much trouble as the last guy.”
Shannon’s blunt response came tumbling out. For some reason, she didn’t think she needed to spend energy spinning her life for Vivienne.
“Your ex is that terrible?”
Shannon gritted her teeth. “You have no idea. I’m not relationship ready at the moment. I’m focusing on me for the first time in my life. But really on me, you know? Like what’s good for me.”
Vivienne leaned forward in her seat. “I get that. I know exactly what you’re talking about. I don’t know what Jonah has told you about me.”
Vivienne raised an expectant eyebrow.
“He said you’ve just come out of the closet.”
Vivienne grinned. “Yes. I spent my entire life afraid to face myself. It kept me from living the only life that could ever make me happy. I thought I was harboring this secret. As it turns out, everyone knew. Jonah. My parents. We just didn’t talk about it. Anyway, my parents did everything they could to keep it that way, but in the end, I spoke up for myself. Now, I live for me. Not selfishly, but for what’s good for me.”
“It’s hard to believe we have so much in common. I wasn’t exactly born in high society.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, sweetheart. The money is nice, but you can always make your own money.”
Shannon shrugged. It’s easier to say that when you already have money, but she appreciated Vivienne’s encouragement.
“If this is too personal, tell me to mind my own business, but how’s dating now that you’re out?”
Vivienne blushed. “Good. I’m seeing someone, but don’t say anything to Jonah. He’ll say something, and my parents will ask questions. I’m not ready to inflict them on her.”
“Are they that bad?”
Vivienne laughed and grumbled, “Yes. No question.”
Chapter Eleven
Jonah found himself literally whistling all day. Even being summoned to his parents’ house for a Friday night family dinner couldn’t dampen his mood.
He talked his father into giving a sizable, tax-deductible donation to the Methodist hospital, earmarked for mental health and the Ridgeway Treatment Center. With a few phone calls, he made sure the Center understood why the donation had been given. He left it up to the administrator there to notify Trevor that his mother’s bill was now covered by “private grant.”
The less he dealt with Mr. Stiges, the better.
On top of that win, he talked to Shannon and then his sister. He gathered that their meeting went well. Shannon had a once-a-week job that would take her out of the café and put her on the track toward her goals.
“She’s thoughtful and willing to work. She’ll do well,” Vivienne told him the night before.
“I can’t thank you enough for helping her, Vivienne. She deserves a chance to do better for herself.”
“You both need to stop thanking me as if I’m Mother Teresa.”
“Fine, but I owe you one.”
“You know what you can do for me, Jonah?”
“What?”
“Don’t break her heart. She’s had a tough enough time without adding the Moran experience.”
“You’re lumping me in with Mom and Dad?”
“No. I don’t mean that. She’s not like us. She seems to think that wealth comes along with being better somehow. We both know that’s not true.”
“Of course that’s not true. I’m a human being, so are you. What’s your point?”
“Try not to be entirely human with her.”
“You mean don’t sleep with her.”
“Yes.”
“We’re just friends.”
Ripples
of disbelief emanated from Vivienne’s silence.
“We are only friends. I’m not going to say that I don’t find her attractive. I do. But I’m not doing this to get in her pants.”
“I didn’t say you were. I said don’t break her heart.”
“There aren’t any hearts involved. Don’t worry.”
“Hmm. Whatever you say,” Vivienne mumbled.
“Worry about your own love life.”
“Okay. I’ll let you go.”
Jonah laughed. “Look at you run when the topic turns to you.”
“I’m getting another call. Talk to you later.”
Jonah didn’t let his sister’s skepticism over his intentions get to him. He knew why he’d done this for Shannon. He would remind his sister when he saw her.
Jonah wound his way up the twisting drive to the three-story home where he grew up. He gripped the steering wheel to brace himself. Oh, the sweet joys of family, he thought.
“You’re late, Jonah.” Sheila squeezed her lips into a tight circle of disapproval. Jonah stepped into the large family room, overlooking the line of trees in their massive backyard. His parents’ housekeeper Miranda handed him a Scotch.
“Hello, Mother. I had some extra work to finish at the office, and I wanted to run home first. Traffic is a nightmare on a Friday. I’m sorry.” Jonah finished once he ran out of excuses.
“What’s done is done, dear. We should sit down to dinner before it gets any colder than it already has.”
Jonah turned toward Miranda and mouthed an apology. She took her job of preparing elegant meals for the Moran family seriously, and she hated to have hot food ruined by lateness, although she would never say it. Luckily, Miranda let him off the hook with a smile.
The fading light of evening sent conflicting shadows wandering through the three walls of divided light windows in the dining room. Four table settings clustered at the near end of the sixteen-seat dining table. His father had already taken his seat at the head of the table with Vivienne on his left when Jonah followed his mother into the room.
“Finally. A dinner invitation for seven thirty means seven thirty, Jonah.”
Jonah proffered another string of apologies and sat down next to his sister. He swallowed half of his drink and tried to recapture the whistle-worthy happiness of the day.
Once Sheila ensconced everyone into their seat, she signaled to Miranda to bring the first course.
“I assume you had a busy week, then, Jonah,” his mother queried.
“I did. Dad and I have targeted another tech company that’s looking for investment. It looks promising,” Jonah answered, turning to mumble another thank you to Miranda as she set a bowl of something creamy and flecked with dark, herbal green.
“Cream of cauliflower soup with thyme,” Miranda announced.
“I saw the recipe, and it looked divine.” His mother delicately skimmed her spoon over the surface of her soup and brought it to her feathered lips.
Jonah forced a smile. He didn’t understand his mother’s fascination with creamed soups. Cauliflower? He swirled the tip of his spoon and tarried bringing it to his mouth.
“The deal does look promising,” Tom declared, moving the conversation away from the ecru pools in each of their bowls. “Let’s hope now that Nick Halden is off the case, we can actually close this business.”
“That wasn’t Nick’s fault, Daddy.” Her relationship with her former fiancé ended with drama, but Vivienne still defended her friend.
“No. It wasn’t. He told us what we needed to do, and we didn’t do it. End of story,” Jonah affirmed.
Nick Halden brought the Morans’ merger and acquisitions legal work into his law firm. Their latest deal fell apart after Nick and his sister broke up, and Nick started dating Micky Llewellyn, who worked at the Morans’ targeted acquisition. The entire affair became messier and more sordid than it should have, mostly because of his father’s pigheadedness.
Jonah put a stop to his father’s plans to ruin the lives of everyone involved to get what he wanted with a well-placed threat over the Stiges affair. A few inconsequential affairs might not make his mother leave, but knowing that he’d pretty much funded a woman’s life for twenty years would put a nail in his father’s marital coffin.
Jonah blackmailed his father, and then the pair kept their regular golf game and Friday dinners without another word. His father excelled at pretense. Sometimes, it scared Jonah how similar he could be to his old man.
Tom continued to bluster about their business. “No matter. He doesn’t work there anymore, and we’re moving along with another prospect. I’ve asked Jonah to take the point on this one. This company has valuable government contracts. It would serve him well to get familiar with the players.”
“Why is that, dad?”
“Don’t toy with me, Jonah. Your run for the House. It’s time you got serious about making the connections you’ll need.”
“I have plenty of connections should I need them, which I don’t know that I will. I have mixed feelings about running for office.”
“Are they mixed?” Vivienne asked with an instigating tenor to her voice. Jonah ignored her.
“Nonsense, Jonah. You always said you could see yourself in government. I thought you were civic-minded. What’s that project you were involved in?”
“The South Dallas Development Project. I’m still involved in it. We’re bringing investment and economic opportunity into the underdeveloped portions of the city. We’ve already scored an important win with that manufacturing plant being built south of the Trinity.”
“That’s fine work, and it’s good that you show an interest in different constituencies. Just remember where the power center is, Son. It’s not south of the Trinity.”
Jonah took his spoon for another jaunt around the shallow bowl. He hadn’t the energy to argue city politics with his father. The SDDP was one of the few things he’d worked on that made him feel useful as opposed to spending his time stacking more money in the wallets of his father and his friends.
“Point taken, Dad. What about your week, Vivienne?” Jonah grinned and winked surreptitiously at his sister.
“I hired that assistant you recommended,” Vivienne responded, winking back.
Jonah choked down his cauliflower potage, glaring sideways at his sister with pursed lips.
“Recommended?” his mother questioned.
“Jonah has a friend who wants to break into design. He asked that I speak with her and maybe mentor her. I met her, and I think she has promise,” Vivienne expounded.
“Who is she?” Sheila pressed.
“You don’t know her. I met her at the café I pass on my way to the office.”
“This isn’t that waitress with the violent boyfriend, is it?” Tom asked in a huff.
“I don’t see how the actions of her ex have to reflect on her. She’s a good-natured, hard-working woman,” Jonah shot back.
“I think it’s lovely that you’re helping her, Jonah. If that’s all this is.” Sheila looked pointedly at her son.
“What else would it be?”
“Nothing, of course. A charitable impulse is a noble one. She certainly sounds…less fortunate,” Sheila demurred.
“And less than,” Jonah finished.
“I don’t know her, dear.” Sheila shrugged and sipped her wine.
“I hope this isn’t the woman you’re planning to bring to the benefit. When I asked you to find a date, I meant an appropriate date.”
Jonah hadn’t any intention of dragging Shannon to that boring-as-hell benefit dinner. He didn’t even want to go. His parents’ sponsorship practically obligated him to. However, the easy way they dismissed Shannon without even knowing her provoked the rebel in him.
“I might bring her. I haven’t broached the topic with her.”
Vivienne kicked his foot swiftly under the table.
“Need I remind you that this is an exclusive social event? Don’t make an exhibition of yourse
lf.”
“What does she do at this café?” Sheila asked.
“She waits tables, and she’s saving to go to school.”
“How old is she that she’s not done with school?” Tom bellowed.
Jonah paused. He didn’t know.
“I’d guess she’s in her thirties. Life doesn’t always take a straight line.”
“No. But it should,” Tom declared. “You cannot bring her.”
Jonah glared at his father. After all this time, the man had no idea that forbidding Jonah only ensured the forbidden.
“I told you that I’d let you know whom I’d bring. And once I get an answer from Shannon, I’ll let you know. Do you have a date yet, Vivienne?” Jonah asked, wide-eyed.
His sister kicked him again.
“No.”
“Good. We don’t need a scene.” Tom scowled at his bowl.
“Eventually, Dad, I will bring someone to an event. I’ll be seen around town with a girlfriend. I’m not a hermit.”
“I’m not discussing this. Where’s Miranda with the next course? I cannot stomach anymore of this soup.”
“I liked it,” Sheila proclaimed.
Practically psychic, Miranda appeared to clear their soup bowls and promised to return with their entrees of scallops and tournedos of beef with roasted vegetables. Finally, Jonah thought, something he could eat.
After dinner, Vivienne poured two cognacs and pulled her brother outside.
“Tell me you aren’t going to bring my part-time assistant to the charity gala just to spite our parents.”
“So now she’s your assistant?”
“Yes. What else would she be? She’s not your anything.”
Jonah didn’t like his sister churlish. She pursed her lips so hard they disappeared on her stern face.
“She’s been my friend longer than she’s been your assistant.”
“Which is all of about ten minutes longer, Jonah. As her friend, why subject her to the scrutiny of a high-society event? She’ll be completely out of her element. And I don’t mean that to be nasty. I like her.”
“She’s not the hillbilly you make her out to be. She went to an event at Jeff’s and did just fine.”
