Jewel Hiest

by Keller, J. J.

  John rewound the tape to the night he’d kissed Debbie on the cruise, a mean, vindictive attempt to get Mary’s attention. Mary had casually unlocked her cabin door, but her green eyes had shot bolts of fire. He chuckled. If only he’d noticed her jealousy at the time. The trip would have played out differently, because they would have spent the entire night in bed, and she wouldn’t have been accosted by Conrad.

  Conrad Peabody. John dug out a cruise tape labeled Hallway, Lower level, Portside and quickly found the footage of Mary running. The attacker kept hidden in the shadows, but a glint of silver flashed across the screen. He’d sectioned a full face view and matched the dimensions to the mug shot and robbery profiles. If he’d had more time, he could have built trust with Mary. She would have told him about Peabody and the hallway assault. He could have taken Conrad out before she’d been cut.

  John rolled his chair an inch to the right and swirled the mouse, advancing to the video clip of the day the hit went down. Although Mary fluttered her hands in apparent joy of having a trip into Kingston, her eyes held sadness. Had she wanted to leave him? Was he pipe dreaming her desire because he wanted her to love him? To stay with him?

  He left the freeze frame of her eyes on the screen.

  What was she doing now? Would she talk to him? A few punches with his index finger to the phone pad, and Mary’s voice rang through the line. “Leave a message after the tone.”

  He found Phoenix’s contact information in his database, picked up his cell, and dialed her home phone number.

  * * * *

  Mary stared at her pay-as-you-go cellphone, wishing it would ring. She snipped a piece of silver wire with her cutters. A little hard, as the short end pinged against the metal bookcase beside her. Forget him. Focus on the medium flow point. She was in Devon’s son’s workroom and didn’t want to damage anything. The room’s style–cold contemporary metals and sharp lines–wasn’t her taste, but was the perfect set up for her temporary jewelry design station. She applied the flux, because she didn’t want ugly oxides to form when she heated the angel wings.

  Holiday Buckness by J Crew jingled from her phone. She pressed the speaker. “Hi, Phoenix. Are you on the road?”

  “Yes. Another hour and I’ll be there. Are you okay?”

  “Yeppers. Just making angels.” Forcing joy into her voice, she twisted a bit of wire into a wing shape. She inhaled the fresh woodsy scents. She and Devon had decorated the room with Christmas cheer the night before.

  “Your voice doesn’t match your words. I could kill Kajiyama. What was he thinking, questioning your morals? You don’t sleep around.” The angry tone in Phoenix’s voice made Mary smile.

  “But that was the reason I went on the cruise ship, was it not?” Mary picked up the webbed wire mesh and carefully soldered the ends to the wing. She didn’t need pins for this portion of the structure, due to its simple free form. “Phoenix, he really doesn’t know me, and he figured out the donor list. I can understand how he could jump to that conclusion.”

  The pain from those few words was as sharp as insect pins inserted into her heart. John wouldn’t have believed the child was his, because he didn’t trust her. It was probably for the best that she hadn’t talked to him since the announcement of her condition.

  “Are you kidding me? The bastard had researched you, prepared to…damn. I need to call you back. There’s a bus in front of me with rowdy teens hanging from the window. For heaven’s sake, it’s snowing.” Phoenix clicked off, ending the call.

  After pressing End on her cell, Mary lifted her wrist and wiped her eyes. Despite telling herself to be strong and not to let John’s attitude bother her, tears trailed down her cheeks and her heart hurt.

  “Baby, I’m sorry, but it’ll just be you and me,” she said, massaging the slight mound of her stomach. Focus. Time passed quickly as she worked. She dipped the wing in the pickling solution, and sniffed. The pungent aroma of the non-toxic cleaner rose into the air. Mary wound the tweezers between her fingers as the metal heated in the deep glass tray.

  “Don’t you usually work with music on?” Devon asked from behind her.

  She dragged her sleeve across her eyes as she turned to face him. “You betcha. Turn on the MP3 player for me. Something happy and fast. The docking station and those Belkin speakers are of the highest quality. I’m glad your kid has all the latest and greatest.”

  He snorted.

  Leona Lewis’s deep, throaty voice rang through the room, singing about heartbreak. Fantastic! Just what she needed, a frickin’ bleeding heart song.

  “Why don’t you get some rest?” Devon took in her face and body, then narrowed his gaze on her eyes.

  They must look like crap, all red and swollen from the weep fest. She couldn’t lift her hand to wipe away the misery, because that would confirm his obvious suspicions.

  “Do you cry in relief the case has been resolved and you can return to the ordinary treadmill of work, or because of him?” Devon didn’t sneer as Phoenix would have, although his perfect lips formed into a frown.

  She’d avoid the truth, and ignore Leona’s heartbreak. “I’ve decided to stay. Get a little house and continue to work for Frank at the Garden Center.” A gentle shove, and the second stool went toward Devon.

  He took the seat. “I’d love that. And the community will too. What about your friends in South Carolina?”

  “Ah, I can tell Phoenix has been sharing tales.” Mary affixed the wing to the body of the angel and prepared the second one.

  A short chuckle erupted from his chest. “Only the good ones. I’m hoping you’ll give me the never-tell-anyone stories.”

  “We’ve a tight bond, my sisters-in-life and I. I tell no secrets.”

  “That’s obvious by your avoidance of my question.” He touched her arm, his fingers warm. She shut off the torch and laid it on the tabletop. “I’ve done work for many a DC bureaucrat. Give me the word, and I’ll make a ruckus.”

  She bent her head as her heart ramped into hyper drive. He was so thoughtful and considerate. They had bonded so quickly, more than likely because his wife was killed by a robber and Mary’s life had been severely affected by a jewel thief.

  Devon lifted her chin. “Mary?”

  She could barely see through the tears covering her eyes. “Why couldn’t we have fallen in love?”

  “You take the prize.” With his index finger, he moved over her scar. “Jackknife did a good job on the stitches.”

  Mary teasingly shoved his hand away and turned back to her makeshift workbench. Leona had ended her song and Mary felt as if she were the one who should seal the cut. Her stomach flipped. Before she finished the angel, she needed to get a drink of milk to settle the acid. Deception and heartache were never easy to accept.

  She lifted the wing and held it to the wire body. “How did Dr. Secreast get the nickname Jackknife?”

  “Jackknife will wait. You are not avoiding me any longer. Do I make the call, or do you truly love John Kajiyama?”

  Her throat closed, and her heartbeat pulsed heavily in her throat. Could she say the words aloud? By announcing her adoration, would the emotion be validated, and she’d add another charm to her wrong-choice boyfriend bracelet?

  Mary dropped the angel in the solution and swiveled on the chair. Devon’s dreamy blue eyes pierced her already pain-filled core. “Would it make a difference in my future if I had fallen in love with him?”

  Devon drew her close. “Yes, honey, it does make a difference. The poor man’s in love with you too. He’s blinded by the whole stupid list you and your friends devised.”

  He released her head, smoothed her hair, and rested his slender surgically-divine fingers on her shoulder. “I’m sure the poor sap is looking for you as we speak and none of your loyal friends will tell the guy where to find you.”

  A song about broken glass ripped through the room. Leona was right; it was difficult to walk on broken glass. A tear fell off her cheek, and he caught the crystal drop w
ith precision.

  “He’ll never look for you at my house, so what do we do?” Devon asked.

  The doorbell chimed, relieving her of the need to answer. “Phoenix has arrived. Turn the music up before you and my best friend get it on. I don’t want my baby to have any knowledge of sexual moans and groans before she’s twenty-one.”

  Chuckling, he increased the volume and fled as if he were a teen instead of a man in his mature years.

  “Will I ever have a man jump for joy at seeing me?” Mary asked, without expecting an answer. She put her supplies away, checked to make sure all the appliances were turned off and headed to the guest wing of the house.

  Chapter 24

  John stood near the front entrance and peered through the windows, not as a voyeur, but intending to see if Mary was inside. A couple danced in the dimly lit room. The outline of a woman, larger breasts, a waist so tiny a man’s hands could span it and a decent bootie. Her red dress billowed out, the same dress she’d worn on the cruise ship. Devon lowered his head to the side of her neck. A tinkling laugh flowed through the window. Rage like John had never experienced before slashed through him, burning a path into his throat. His eyes watered from the pain.

  Unwilling to window-peep and envy the man holding the woman of his dreams, John pivoted and headed down the sidewalk to his car. He clasped the lever, pulled, and then glanced at the white contemporary house with perfectly shaped evergreen shrubs lining the perimeter. Impossible. She wouldn’t make love with him and days later dance hip to hip with Devon Buckley.

  John slammed the door, hard enough to rock the Beemer, then rushed along the concrete sidewalk before he could change his mind. The loud ding dong vibrated beneath his fingertip as he pressed the bell button. The woman from the window appeared, her hand remaining on the knob as if ready to slam the entrance shut at a moment’s notice. His heart thwacked, fast and hard against his chest bone. Relief didn’t make the pounding slow down.

  “Who is it, honey?” Devon shouted from the background.

  “The bastard who broke Mary’s heart,” Phoenix said, with enough anger in her voice to make any sane man quake.

  “Good evening, Phoenix. I need to see her, talk with her.” To keep from throwing the door open and looking for Mary himself, John shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “I can’t believe I told her to open her heart and let you in. What was I thinking?” Phoenix slammed her hand against the frame. “I should have gone with the bartender. He wouldn’t have left her cold.”

  “Could I talk to her, please?” John would not give up.

  Phoenix inched the door closed, attempting to shut him out. “She’s not here, and I’m not going to tell her you’re looking–”

  “Jennifer told me she was here,” John insisted.

  Devon appeared behind Phoenix and rested a hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be at Landware’s dinner party tomorrow. It takes place at one.”

  “Thanks, Devon.”

  * * * *

  Real estate in upper Vermont was the topic of discussion between Mrs. Landware and her cousin’s youngest son, Drew. Nauseous and bored, Mary glanced around the foyer. New up-lights strategically placed around the Christmas tree illuminated the handcrafted ornaments. The beige marble floor gleamed under a two tiered chandelier. Christmas music piped through surround sound. Currently, Silent Night titillated her ear drums. It was all too much. She wanted to leave.

  Mrs. Landware, Drew and two of her other relatives stood in the waiting area. A late lunch would be served in half an hour. Sadness weighted her. She couldn’t wait for the day to end, and more importantly for her heartache to ease. But that would take time, if it ever happened. The scent of cinnamon, cloves and fresh baked bread made her stomach growl. She flattened her hands below her waist, feeling the slight baby-bump. A rush of joy that her child had finally made an outward appearance, in mound form, made her lips curve upward.

  “Yes, I’d smile too, Mary. You did a fantastic job. Don’t you agree, Drew?” Mrs. Landware held onto her cousin’s arm as if she needed a crutch.

  Drew’s round face flushed red. He straightened his elf-embossed green vest, and then the tie boasting large red cherries topping off the colorful arrangement. He kept sliding his fingers along his heavy thighs, as if out of habit. Soon he found a place to rest his hands inside his trouser pockets. “Yes, she is beautiful. I mean, yes, the decorations are beautiful.”

  Mary felt a wave of sympathy for his nervousness The ring-a-ling of the doorbell gave her brief relief from the uncomfortable silence.

  Without losing the rhythm of her conversation, one of the cousins opened the door.

  John entered, wearing a frown and a three-piece dark suit. Immediately Mary met his gaze. She wanted to turn away, but couldn’t. Her womb clutched in joy. Despite her disappointment, she loved John Kajiyama, the forever kind of love she’d always been searching for but had never found. Until now.

  “John, welcome, come join us,” Mrs. Landware said, her voice lifting to the top of the twelve-foot ceiling and across the foyer. Her bejeweled fingers flagged him.

  Jaw unclenched, he strode toward the threesome, keeping his gaze on Mary. Her breath stopped and tears threatened to spill. Fortunately, he shifted his glance to their host and handed her a bunch of hot house flowers.

  “Thank you for the invitation, Dorothy.” John’s deep voice sent quivers through Mary’s body from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her toes.

  “Thanksgiving wouldn’t be a day of celebration if I didn’t have my two favorite decorators here,” Dorothy said, and carried the bouquet to her nose.

  “You’re a decorator?” Drew asked. A ridiculing glimmer appeared in his eyes.

  “John, this is my cousin, Drew Oran. Drew, meet John Kajiyama, Mary’s partner.” Mrs. Landware’s eyes glittered with mischief.

  “I’d thought she was to be my date?” Drew stage whispered.

  “Come along Drew, and I’ll show you how to arrange blooms in a vase.” Mrs. Landware pressed his arm, then turned around and glanced upward. “There is mistletoe. According to Norse legend, the mistletoe is a symbol for love and a kiss seals the magic.”

  A sly wink, and she moved Drew and the other two people along.

  “Hi!” John took Mary’s hand.

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice came out soft and weepy, so she added a hard edge on the last word.

  “I reviewed the tapes from the ship–”

  She jerked her hand away. “Spying on me every minute wasn’t enough?”

  His fingers grasped her arms. “Wait, I’m going about this all wrong. I love you.”

  Mary took a step back, increasing the space between them.

  “Please, let me explain.” John closed the distance, encircled her waist and took a deep breath. “Shouldn’t we honor the mistletoe?” he whispered, and glanced upward. She’d stepped directly beneath it.

  Love. John had said he loved her. Her heart plunged upward and outward, beating against her breast. She couldn’t seem to draw breath and wanted so badly to move away, but his kisses were tiny drops of heaven. He loved her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded. “It might be wrong to break with tradition.”

  With shaking hands, she rested her wrists on his shoulders and allowed her belly to expand. He must have noticed, as his grip on her back relaxed and he commenced rubbing soothing circles. “Magic should continue.”

  According to Mrs. Landware, the mistletoe was recognized for creating a spell of enchantment, and when John kissed her, sparks of magic did surround them. The love she felt for him rose from the bottom of her toes straight into her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

  “John.”

  “Yes, love.” His hips touched hers, and they danced, moving in time to Edelweiss, now filling the foyer.

  “You weren’t on my donor list because you weren’t a by-your-leave, sex only encounter. I had fallen in love with you.”

  He drew a sharp breath. “H
ad?”

  “Do. I do love you.”

  “Magical mistletoe.” Crystal sparkled and the tiny pointed edges of the leafy greens hung over their heads. The song ended and John stopped. Waiting for the kiss, she wet her lips.

  “Please be my wife, Mary Keefe. Let’s start a life together, raise a family and decorate trees with our own special memories.”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you,” she said, and kissed him.

  j.j. Keller

  Deeply moved by a niece’s heartbreaking story of her inability to conceive a child and other stories of couples who experienced difficulty getting pregnant, I wrote Jewel Heist.

  Conception problems can be distressing, not to mention destructive to a marriage and a woman’s self-esteem. Sometimes the condition has a simple solution, while some require medical hi-tech involvement.

  As I listened to my family members discuss the process and their success and failure rates, I became more intrigued.

  The story began to form as I worked with glass and jewels to create works of art, or “crafts” as my husband would claim. For the heroine I used my background knowledge about jewelry design.

  Mary’s plight is heart wrenching, and John’s desire to do what is right as he falls in love–sympathetic.

  jj’s Website

  www.jj-keller.com

  Reader eMail

  justjkeller@yahoo.com

  Also by j.j. Keller

  Love Hurts

  Jewel Heist

  Lyrical Press books are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2011 j.j. Keller

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.