by Avery Laval
“And I’m glad you did. You’ll find I left you with plenty of work to keep you busy. I saved a task list for you on the cloud. Nice and long. Might have to skip that lunchtime manicure today. Your nails are going to be pretty raggedy for your date tonight.”
“I don’t have a date tonight,” Jenna blurted, then cringed to herself.
“Terrific. Then you won’t mind going out with me.”
Her mouth dropped in shock. “Go out with you?” What was he playing at? “Ah, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“That’s too bad,” Grant sighed with great exaggeration. “That attitude won’t make for a very pleasant evening.”
Jenna stifled an exasperated sigh. “There won’t be any kind of evening at all,” she replied insistently. “I have other plans.”
“Can I come?” Grant asked. Damn the man, he sounded almost playful. Unbidden, a word outside of polite vocabulary popped into Jenna’s mind.
“Actually, it’s a family activity.” Going to see Justin each Friday was her only family activity, and her favorite thing in the world. She wouldn’t give it up for all the d’orsays on the Strip, and certainly not for this man.
“Well, that’s perfect,” said Grant. “After running McCormick Jewels for six years, I like to think of myself as part of the family.”
She fought back a growl. He was her boss, she reminded herself. She needed this job. “Please understand, Grant,” she pleaded, hoping to appeal to his sense of mercy. “My commitment tonight is very important to me. And you are not a part of it.”
“Hm. In that case, the only way we’ll be able to touch base—and I do think, after last night, it is vital that we touch base—is if I drive you to and from your…commitment. Suit yourself. I’ll pick you up in the office at quarter after six. Goodbye, Ms. McCormick.” The words were followed by a telltale click.
“Wait—” Jenna cried, but she was talking to a dial tone. That man, that stubborn man. What on earth was he up to now? He’d tossed her out on her ear just the night before, and now he was angling to spend more time with her. He was twisting her emotions in every which way. Couldn’t he show her the slightest bit of mercy?
Unbidden, her mind went back to the humiliation of lying on his couch, exposed, before he’d pushed her out of his arms and told her to get out. Was she destined to be bounced around by his whims for however long she could survive, like a mouse in the paws of a cat?
If that was the case, this was going to be the longest three months of her life.
Defeat rushed over her as she set the phone back in its cradle. Now how could she see Justin tonight? He was far too vulnerable to be tangling with such a viper as Grant Blakely. And yet cancelling on Justin would be a terrible betrayal.
She sighed. This entire exercise was hopeless. The way Grant kept after her, she’d have to quit soon enough, or be fired, and would leave behind her father’s wishes and her brother’s needs in the process.
For a moment, she could do nothing but stare limply at her hand, resting atop the phone. There was her mother’s watch on her wrist. She knew the myth of the thing, the story of how her father had had it specially created for her by the very best designers, and how he’d presented it to her with great fanfare at their tenth wedding anniversary. Jenna had been seven then, and her mother had come home that night looking radiant, the brilliant watch gleaming on her wrist. “A one of a kind,” she’d told Jenna excitedly.
“Just like my wife,” her father had said. He was beaming with pride over his successful present. But when he went back to work the next day, he decided that if his wife liked the watch so much, other women would feel the same way. So he instructed the designers to produce another two thousand of the timepieces, and sold them out quickly to stores across the country. The watch was a huge success, and was still available to this day for special orders. The design was known as the Cynthia. Named for her mother.
A beautiful oval of diamonds encrusted the outer edge of the watch face, the inner face studded with four tiny diamonds, one each in place of the 3, 6, 9, and 12. There were no numbers whatsoever, but tiny ebony hash marks where the hours should be. And the band, a basket weave of beautiful yellow gold, gave it a demure and timeless look. It was Cynthia McCormick to a T.
Jenna’s weary disposition was replaced with a proud smile when she remembered how, even after the watch had been reproduced thousands of times and knocked off by every discount retailer in the nation, her mother would still show it off to people proudly, saying, “When he gave it to me, it was a one of a kind!” No one could doubt that her father sometimes cared for his company more than his wife—even Jenna had to admit that—but regardless, Cynthia McCormick had believed in the truth she had chosen for herself.
Now the watch twinkled on Jenna’s own wrist. Her mother had wanted her to have it—she’d named it explicitly in the will—and Jenna wore it now to honor her, but as much as she loved it, it felt too elegant on her wrist, too composed. Jenna thought of her embarrassingly heated reaction to Dianne Framsworth and later to Grant—those scenes were anything but composed. She had never had the sort of grace under pressure her mother had exhibited time and time again when Jenna’s father chose work over her. Her mother never would have lost herself to passion or emotion. And she certainly never would have let herself get so carried away with a dangerous man.
Maybe that’s why she had seen to it that the watch come down to Jenna. Maybe she was trying to remind Jenna not to let every little feeling—hurt, anger, attraction—move her so deeply. It was a lesson worth remembering around Grant. If she could try not to let him hurt her, not to let his searing looks and stubborn decrees tear her apart, she’d get through this, and win a good performance review in three months. And then who knew what could come next for her? Better things. They had to be better things, because there was no getting worse.
Encouraged by these thoughts, Jenna smiled, inhaled deeply, and removed her hand from the phone where it had been frozen all this time. Thanks, Mom, she thought, even though she would never have dreamed of calling her mother “Mom” when she’d been alive. Cynthia hadn’t been a warm woman, or a very accessible one, but now, wherever she was, she seemed to be providing at last the guidance her daughter needed.
And as for tonight? What would Cynthia McCormick do in such a situation? Jenna knew the answer in a heartbeat. Why, she’d just pretend the whole inconvenient conversation with her employer had never happened. Go down to the parking garage at precisely quarter to six, and get into her little car and drive off, and when Grant Blakely showed up at 6:15, she’d be long gone with no way to be reached, thanks to terrible cell service in the desert. And all because of a tiny “miscommunication.”
Jenna tipped her head back and exhaled deeply with relief. Just because Grant Blakely told her to do something didn’t mean she had to oblige him—not unless it was really and truly about the job. He had her father’s office now, but he was definitely not her father. And if he kissed her again, she didn’t have to kiss him back. Instead of following her attraction to him down its dangerous path, she would be cool, calm, collected, and perhaps just a teensy bit willfully ignorant.
Her mother was a genius.
By 6:15 p.m., Jenna was ten minutes away from the headquarters of McCormick Jewels, speeding west toward her brother’s clinic. The scenery changed fast as she made her escape, first from the skyscrapers of downtown Vegas to the sprawling sea of subdivisions, then through the foothills to the place where the desert couldn’t be held back any further. Here the air seemed dustier, and the foothills nearly blocked the glow of Las Vegas. But not quite. The facility was an hour out of town, but the weekly drive was a comforting routine to Jenna, and this week she appreciated it even more than usual. She blared catchy pop music on the radio and sang along at full volume.
By the time she reached the Health Center of Oak Valley, a place with no oak trees whatsoever, much less the verdant look one might expect from a valley, she was truly relaxed. And
happy. Yes, in spite of everything that had happened this week, she was in a good mood. That was how she always felt when she went to see her brother. Happy. And proud.
“Justin!” she cried. She walked into his room and found the 19-year-old wrapped up in a juicy-looking science-fiction novel. His sandy hair was clean and brushed, and his skin looked healthy and bright. “Hey, little brother! Long time no see!” A week felt so long to be apart from her only family.
“Hey, big sis!” Justin said, the enthusiasm spilling over into a big goofy childish smile. The events of the last six years had, in many ways, frozen him in time. Though he was a tall, lanky nineteen-year-old physically, emotionally, he was still that nerdy, vulnerable thirteen-year-old boy who had lost his parents in the blink of an eye.
He tossed the paperback aside carelessly—though Jenna knew he loved nothing more than escaping in a good book—and leapt up out of the easy chair he was reading in. “Missed you!” He took her into an enormous bear hug. “Have you lost weight?”
“Oh, Justin. You are so good for my self-esteem. Not a pound. But I never have, and you always ask anyway.”
He beamed. “I worry, what with no one to cook my famous chicken and dumplings for you anymore. How do you survive?”
“I don’t!” said Jenna, laughing, glad to move in familiar patterns with Justin. “The things I try to cook for myself…well, you’d be in tears if you had to eat them. But I’ll get better. I just have to keep at it.”
“Or maybe I’ll come home.” Justin said, his voice a touch more serious than it had been a moment ago. “I can’t have my only sister dying of starvation.”
Jenna took in his words. “Do you want to come home? Because I would never make you stay anywhere you didn’t want to be. You know that, right?”
Her brother sighed. “I do know that. But honestly, I don’t want to leave just yet. The way all these meds work, it takes a long time to get the balance right and keep it there. And things were just so hard for me out on my own.”
Jenna nodded, trying hard not to tear up at the painful memories. “I know they were, J. And I know how much happier you’ve seemed since you came here. So stick around until the time is really right, you know?”
“Is it getting expensive?” Ah, thought Jenna. That explains his offer to come home. There was no missing the worry in his voice.
“I’ve told you a hundred times, bro. That’s what the trust fund is for.” She forced a laugh, hoping she seemed more lighthearted about money than she felt. He didn’t need a guilt trip over what this inpatient care was costing them. “Now, enough talk about pesky subjects like money. What’s been happening over the last week?”
Justin’s shoulders relaxed and he told her about his new idea for a great science-fiction movie and the creative writing classes offered at Oak Valley, which he had become totally absorbed in. “When I go outpatient,” he said, as if a teenage boy saying those words were the most natural thing in the world, “I’m going to apply to UNLV as an English major. Check it.” He dug around for a wad of papers on his desk. “My application papers for next spring semester. I have to write a personal statement about heroes. Maybe I’ll write about you.”
Jenna let the wash of feelings tumble over her as he spoke—pride, yes, and joy at how successful Justin’s treatment had been so far. But also fear. Yes, one day he’d be ready to be an outpatient, but that wouldn’t be the end of her troubles. He’d have to go to college. That was what 19-year-olds who were as smart as Justin did. And she’d need to find a way to pay for that college, because there was no way she would stand between Justin and his dreams.
And far more menacing than money woes was the fear that came with the thought of Justin being off on his own. What if he got depressed when he was off at college by himself? How could she save him if he tried to hurt himself again? Jenna shuddered as the vivid memory of the day she’d interrupted her brother’s suicide attempt enveloped her for the thousandth time. The thought of him trying again was too horrible to contemplate.
“Don’t you think UNLV is a good choice, Jenna?” Justin asked, his cheery voice a stark contrast to her frightening thoughts.
“Of course,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. She tried to think of happier things, but the toll of the last week was getting to her. “Listen, I could really use a cup of coffee.” She couldn’t let him see how upset the thought of him alone at college made her. “Why don’t I run out and grab one in the café? I’ll be back in ten minutes. You want one too?”
Justin shrugged. “Sure, make it decaf,” he said, and she showed herself out of his room as quickly as she possibly could, closed the door behind her, and sighed deeply.
The hallway was empty, so she allowed herself a moment to lean her body against the wall and regain her composure. Her shoulders went slack, and her ribs relaxed in her torso. She could handle this too, she reminded herself. She’d find a way.
The doctors had explained to her how differently Justin’s mind worked from hers, but remembering his darkest times always brought it home for Jenna. This wasn’t run-of-the-mill sadness that Justin fought off. Not the normal grief that she’d struggled with, intensely at first and then had ebbed to something manageable over time. This was something clinical, and was deadly when untreated. Thanks to the way his brain was wired, he was held hostage to his bleakest emotions, and they came on very strong and felt so real that it was hard to see through them to happier things. Their parents’ death had sent him over the brink, but Jenna hadn’t seen how serious it was until long after.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. The mix of medications had helped a lot since then, and he’d probably have to take them for the rest of his life, but beyond the meds, he also needed to relearn how to handle his feelings, so that he wasn’t trapped in a circle of repression and explosion. It wasn’t something that would happen fast.
But, Jenna reminded herself, it would happen, eventually. The intense therapy Justin was getting was his best hope of having a happy, balanced, normal life down the road. And a normal life meant not having his big sister hovering over him for the rest of his days. It meant college, and independence. And risk.
Glancing at her watch, she straightened her body and walked down the long sunlit hall to the central waiting room, where a row of vending machines dispensed coffee and candy bars for times when the café was closed. But something far, far more surprising than a latte was waiting for her in the lounge. Sitting in an uncomfortable waiting room chair, legs outstretched, hands behind his head like he was thinking about a little catnap, was Grant Blakely.
9
What the bleep was he doing here?
“Ah, there you are, Jenna,” he said, his triumphant smile completely undisguised. “I was hoping you’d turn up soon.”
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “How did you find me?”
“I was driving by and saw your car in the parking lot,” he said, sounding bored. “Since you’d missed our appointment, and I still owed you an explanation for the events of last night. I figured I might as well surprise you.”
Jenna tried for just a moment to rein in her temper. But this time he had pushed her too far. “First of all, there is no way you were just driving by Oak Valley. This place is miles from anything, on the road to nowhere!” Her voice climbed an octave, all hope of remaining cool and detached now thrown out the window. “And secondly, you don’t owe me an ‘explanation’ for last night. You owe me an apology.”
“Fair enough—”
“I’m not finished,” Jenna interrupted. “Lastly, we had no appointment. Appointments are things that both parties agree to, and I never agreed to see you tonight. One evening with you was quite enough to teach me my lesson.”
Grant just chortled at her words. “Are you quite finished?”
Jenna slanted her eyes at the infuriating man. “I am.”
“Good. You’re right that I owe you an apology.” Grant leaned forward in his chair and uncrossed his
legs. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. For that I am genuinely sorry. And I definitely shouldn’t have kissed you. Though, to be perfectly honest, I’m less remorseful about that. But what happened after that was… a lapse in judgement on both of our parts.”
Jenna colored at the memory.
“We let ourselves be drawn in by whatever this strange tension is between us. If it happens again—”
“It won’t happen again,” Jenna said quickly.
“Fine, but if it does, it will be in a way that is aboveboard and honest. And as for honesty, you’re right that I didn’t drive by and see your car. I had you investigated. I wanted to know this little secret which you’ve tried so desperately to sweep under the rug. When you dashed off so quickly this evening I knew exactly where you were going. To the same place you’ve gone every Friday for the last four months. That’s why I’m here.”
Jenna could have screamed. She could have murdered the man with her bare hands, right there in the lobby of the Health Center of Oak Valley. A lifetime in jail would be completely worth it. “You had me investigated?” she cried. “You hired someone to snoop around in my life? You are so unbelievable, you know that? You are unbelievably…” Jenna searched for the worst thing she could say, but only came up with “…mean!”
“Oh, I knew you’d be upset. But calm down a second, if you can, and put yourself in my shoes.” He rose from his chair and paced as he explained himself. “You showed up out of nowhere for the first time in six years in your designer suit and sexy heels, and you begged me for a job. A job you threw in my face once already. Is it any wonder I found that a little curious? Even knowing your passion for all things expensive, I was a little surprised at how quickly you’d burned through you and your brother’s trust funds. Was it gambling debts? Drugs? If it was, I didn’t want you bringing those habits into my company.”
“Then why did you hire me at all, if you didn’t trust me?” Jenna demanded.
