Leah chuckled. "It's not that bad unless your friends carry on in front of you."
"Sorry," Maureen said. "I'll be more circumspect." She opened her brown eyes very wide with an innocent air. "So what's with these pictures you said we had to see?"
Leah hmphed and said to Valentina, "A little less amaretto."
Valentina nodded. "Would you serve this with amaretto? Or would that be too much?" She pushed stray locks of her curly black hair back from her face.
"Lee." Maureen's voice held a bit of a whine.
"Too much. It's very sweet. I'm not sure what you'd serve. Something dry and sharp, maybe."
"Lee!" Maureen sat forward and imperiously held out her hand. "Show me the pictures."
Leah smiled indulgently at Maureen and handed over the packet of photos Jackie had included with her note. Valentina got up to look over Maureen's shoulder.
Both women caught their breath, then sighed.
Valentina crossed herself and looked up at Leah, her dark eyes shimmering with tears. "Did you finally have the heart to go looking for it? Did her family finally relent and let you know where she is?"
"No, I got them from a friend." Friend? Could she call Jackie merely a friend? The gesture she'd made by taking these photos — it went beyond that. "From an acquaintance, really." She gave them the brief highlights of Jackie's stay over Thanksgiving. Well, almost all the highlights. She left out the electric moments in the kitchen that last morning. She couldn't stop herself from thinking of the instant when her fingers had slid into Jackie's wetness. Her stomach lurched.
"What a sweet thing to do!" Maureen stared at the photographs. "And the flowers... Sharla would have loved them."
Leah gently poured the collection of petals onto the table. They had faded, but enough of the vibrant color remained for her to easily picture the way the bouquet had looked.
"Oh, Lee," Valentina said softly. "What a lovely person Jackie must be."
She nodded and closed her eyes briefly. Her throat was suddenly tight again. The photographs were beautifully composed. Jackie had sent directions on how she could find Sharla's grave — maybe she would go one day, but she didn't need to. Not anymore.
"Those bastards," Maureen said with some heat after reading Jackie's note. "How could they put that on her marker?"
"Same old story," Valentina said. "They don't see her for fifteen years and suddenly they have the legal right to her body and what money she had, and her car. Thank goodness you put both houses in your name, Lee. They'd have taken them, too. How they can call themselves Christian..." She lifted her gaze heavenward for a moment, then quickly crossed herself again. "I could wish them ill, I really could."
Leah shrugged. "I shouldn't have told them she died. I told them because it was the 'Christian' thing to do. And we see where that got me."
"Irony's a drag, isn't it?" Valentina returned to her seat and had another bite of cheesecake.
"What you should have done," Maureen said, "was make out wills. And durable powers of attorney. Val and I did that after they took Sharla away from you."
"Wills can be contested," Leah said. "Raymond Burr's family held it up forever and you'd think he knew enough to get good legal advice."
"It's better than nothing," Maureen said.
Leah picked up her favorite photograph. Taken low to the ground, the flowers framed the lower foreground, with Sharla's name behind them. Above the top of the marker blurry green branches mixed with gray light. Jackie had her mother's eye for balance. "You're right." She cleared her throat. "Would you like to keep one of the pictures?"
"Yes, if you don't mind," Maureen said. "Sharla was a good friend."
"Do you think I could serve a port with this cheesecake?" Valentina took another bite.
Maureen threw her napkin at Valentina.
Leah carefully swept the petals back into the envelope and gathered the photos. "I wouldn't know unless I tried it," she said.
Valentina's eyes lighted up. "What a good idea." She disappeared into the kitchen.
"Last item," Angela said. "I've got two tickets to a benefit for the Women's Cancer Resource Center. It's an art gallery opening this Friday, but I can't use them. Anyone want to go?"
Jackie opened her mouth to say yes but thought she should let the partners have first crack at them.
"I'll take one," Diane said. "Mark won't want to go, so someone else should take the other one."
"I'd love it," Jackie said after no one else spoke up. "Thanks very much." The ticket was passed down the conference table to her and she tucked it in her calendar.
'I didn't know you were an art hound," Diane said as they left the conference room.
"Can't keep me away. Not that I can afford to buy anything." She didn't mention that she had a small, original Jellica Frakes sculpture in her apartment. Her mother had given it to her when she had left for college saying that, in her most practical motherly way, Jackie could always raise some cash on it if she needed to.
"That makes two of us. Why don't you grab the Dearborn file and we'll go over the new specs they sent and pick out somewhere to eat before the opening."
Jackie fetched the file Diane wanted from her shoebox-sized office — no bigger than her cubicle at L&B, but it had walls and a door — and walked the length of the office suite to Diane's office.
Diane looked up and said, "I was just thinking. I shouldn't have assumed you didn't have someone you'd like to take to the gallery opening. You could have the other ticket. I wouldn't mind."
"No, keep it," Jackie protested. "I'm very single at the moment." She thought of Leah and pushed away her hurt that she hadn't heard from Leah about the photos. She hoped that they hadn't gotten lost in the mail.
"Are you?" Diane considered her with her head tipped to one side. "Well, I have a friend who's a banker here in the city, and I think you'd get along great. Maybe I should give my ticket—"
"You don't have to," Jackie said. She felt her color rising. "I'm... I mean, I do want to meet new people, but..." She looked at her feet. Diane was nice and probably had nice friends. "Is your friend... a man or a woman?"
"A woman," Diane said. "Oh dear, have I got it wrong?" She dropped her voice. "I know some nice men, too. Mark's brother, for instance, is a sweetheart. Nicer even than Mark but not as funny."
Jackie laughed with relief. "No, you got it right. I didn't know that you knew. I mean; I haven't known for that long." She frowned. "How did you know?"
Diane shrugged. "I don't — oh. Now I remember. Another friend of mine said she'd met someone whose name she couldn't remember at a dance, but it was someone who worked here and was new. I assumed it was you from her description. And since she's gay, I assumed you were, too. She said you're a great dancer."
It was Jackie's turn to blink. "Oh, that explains it. I've been to a couple of women's dances, but it's hard to hear names over the music, much less remember them."
"Well," Diane said, "I could give my ticket to my banker friend and tell her I can't go and someone I work with is going, you could just gab about art and if you didn't like each other, you wouldn't have to stress about it, you wouldn't even have to talk to each other, and it wouldn't be a date, so what do you say?" She wiggled her eyebrows encouragingly.
"I'd wouldn't mind going with you," Jackie said. Diane continued to make encouraging faces until Jackie laughed. "But if your banker friend is really that nice, I guess I could live if she went in your place." She resolutely would not keep her evenings free for a mythical call from Leah that would never come.
"I'll call her this morning and see," Diane said, with a grin. "Back to business. The Dearborns have completely revised their dining hall ideas. Again. This is going to be the longest inn renovation on record. So guess what I need you to do?"
Jackie held out her hand for the specification sheet. "Blueprints and elevations with HVAC. Consider it done."
"We only have to stay a few minutes, then maybe we can go dancing," Constance said.
"Ma
ybe this won't be as dreary as the last one," Leah said. "Openings can be fun. I've been to a few that were. Well, at least one."
"Painted Moon will be an opening to remember, darling. I'm working on getting the Sunday magazine to do a photo spread."
"I'll do the installation as soon as you're ready for it." Leah opened the door for Constance who swept by her with the click of high heels and a waft of Chanel Number 19. She was wearing the same dress she always wore to gallery openings — a skintight sheath that closely matched her skin tone and was painted with sequins in all the right places. An expensive fake fur dangled over one shoulder and cabuchon-cut amber dangled from her ears.
Leah followed her in more sedate black slacks and deep purple jacket — her standard festive wear. As they approached the gallery owner for the obligatory handshake and well-wishes, she whispered in Constance's ear, "We can't go dancing with you in that get-up. You'll split a seam."
Constance wrinkled her nose. "You're probably right. We could go back to my place, though. I could change. Or not." She threw a wicked smile over her shoulder.
"Connie..." Lee began wearily. She broke off to add her smile and "Good luck," to the owner. Even though she and Constance had agreed to be friends only, Constance still flirted with her and Leah was bothered by the mixed signals. Then they were past the receiving line and into the main gallery which was primarily occupied by sculpture.
A few pieces immediately caught Lee's eye. Constance was already deep into the room, making a beeline for a photographer Lee remembered vaguely from an exhibit several years ago. Constance must have seen something she liked — Lee recognized the signs. Photographs would be displayed in Constance's gallery, eventually.
She drifted to the exhibits that intrigued her. The gallery was filling up — definitely a success. Constance began working the crowd, something she was very good at. Leah watched her for a while, in between studying the pieces.
She came to a Jellica Frakes piece, one she hadn't seen. Oh, it was lovely — made her fingers itch. It was cast wrought iron painted white, and about four inches in diameter at the base, flowing upward about six feet to a breadth of about three feet. At the top the iron curved over and spilled downward again. The downward slope was a replica of fine lace work. In fact, it was very like a long bridal train upside down. The lace work was delicate-looking but the piece itself, Leah thought, was about deceptive strength.
She stepped back to admire it further and trod on someone's foot. The owner of the foot squawked. She spun around to apologize. "I'm so sorry—"
She was face to face with Jackie.
Jackie's annoyed expression melted into shock. They stared at each other.
Leah had not forgotten the blue of Jackie's eyes. She had not forgotten the way her lips were shaped, or how they parted when Jackie was breathing hard.
Jackie was breathing hard.
Leah realized she was breathing hard, too. It had only taken this glance to put her right back in the kitchen at the cabin and recreate the same feelings in her body she had had then. The texture of Jackie's skin. The taste of her lips.
"I take it you two have met," a voice said.
Leah blinked. Jackie took a deep breath like a swimmer coming up for air. Her gaze fell away and she glanced at the petite woman in a business suit who stood next to her.
"Umm, Leah this is Laurel, a friend of a friend. Laurel, this is Lee Beck, the artist."
"Pleased to meet you," Laurel murmured. A smile hovered around her mouth. 'I see a... piece over there I want to study, so I'll catch you later, Jackie. If I don't, say hi to Diane for me, okay?"
Jackie opened her mouth as though she wanted to ask Laurel to stay, but then merely nodded. Laurel melted into the crowd, but not before she looked at both of them again with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile.
"I got the pictures," Leah said. "I don't know how to thank you. I've picked up the phone once a day and words... words failed me."
"It was nothing."
"It was more than nothing."
"I mean I was glad to do it. And you're welcome." Jackie was staring at the floor and Leah couldn't stand it.
"Look at me."
Jackie looked up and their gazes locked again. Her lips were slightly parted and they trembled slightly. Leah glanced down at the turquoise silk blouse she wore, and the short black skirt. This was the everyday Jackie, not the woman who had been stranded at her cabin in Sharla's clothes. The everyday Jackie overwhelmed Leah's nerves even more than the snowbound Jackie had. Leah had not thought it possible.
Their intense stare was broken by someone jostling Leah into Jackie. She felt the warmth of Jackie's silk-clad breasts against her and every nerve ignited.
"It's so crowded in here," she said weakly. "Maybe we can find a place to talk."
"Talk," Jackie echoed. Leah took her by the arm and led the way to the back of the gallery. There had to be somewhere with a little privacy. She found an unlocked door at the end of a side room and propelled Jackie through it. Crates and packing materials left little floor space, so they stood behind the closed door.
She turned Jackie to face her and lost all her resolve. She had wanted to be alone with Jackie and now she was. The sight of Jackie's face looking up at her—those trembling lips. She looked so vulnerable Leah was afraid to touch her. If she touched her she wasn't sure she would be able to stop again.
It was Jackie who slowly raised her hand. She slid her finger under the lapel of Leah's jacket. "Nice jacket," she said in a faint voice, as though she was trying to make normal conversation but her composure had failed her.
Her fingers slipped downward and released Leah's jacket. Leah caught her hand and then the distance between them was gone in a breathless moment of arms winding and bodies arching. The silk covering Jackie's back was warm and only enhanced the softness of the skin underneath. Her braid was heavy against Leah's hands. It would be so easy to slide the blouse to one side and feast on the warmth of Jackie's shoulders. She kissed the exposed curve of Jackie's throat. Jackie's breath was an indrawn hiss echoed by a tremor in her body as she pulled Leah's head down.
Leah clung to her desperately, her every intention to finish what they had begun in her kitchen. A half-step backward put Jackie's shoulders against the door. Jackie moaned through their pressed lips, arching her full breasts against Leah. Her arms dropped to Leah's waist, sliding under her jacket.
Leah's hands were under Jackie's skirt, caressing the smooth hips through thin pantyhose. Still she kissed Jackie, her tongue exploring the welcoming mouth, inviting exploration in return.
Jackie's knees buckled and only the pressure of Leah against her kept her from sliding to the floor. Leah slipped her leg between Jackie's, suddenly aware that they were reaching a point of no return in a semi-public place.
She broke their kiss, leaving Jackie gasping. "I want to be with you," she murmured in Jackie's ear. "I mean it. But not here."
Jackie turned her head to one side. "I know. I want to." Her voice was barely audible. "I don't want you to stop. But I feel like I'm going to pass out. I want you to make love to me." She pressed her forehead into Leah's shoulder.
Leah held her until Jackie stood up on her own and raised her head. "It's overwhelming," she whispered. "Nothing else matters."
"I know," Leah said. She smiled and traced the corner of Jackie's mouth with her thumb.
"You don't know," Jackie said, suddenly vehement. "You can still stand up. You are still... intact."
Leah feathered a kiss over one eyebrow. "I don't feel intact."
"But you are," Jackie said. "I'm in pieces." She drew a deep breath. "I... I'm not a weak person. I'm self-reliant."
"I know," Leah said with another smile.
Jackie shook her head slightly. "Right now I would do whatever you told me to. I've never felt like this." Her voice dropped lower so that Leah had to listen carefully to catch every word. "I've never let go like this. If you told me I had to stand here while you — whil
e you made love to me I'd find a way. I would do anything you asked of me. It doesn't seem like I have a choice anymore."
Leah shivered. She was frightened suddenly by the control Jackie was yielding to her. "I won't ask anything you can't give."
A tear escaped and trailed slowly down the curve of Jackie's cheek. "I don't want to be like this. Dependent and clinging. But I can't help it. I don't want to do it here either. But I can't let go of you." Her grip on Leah tightened and her voice quavered. "I can't let go. I'll fall to pieces if I do."
"I have hold of you," Leah said. "I'm not letting go."
They stood locked in each other's arms for a long time. Jackie finally took a deep breath and stood a little straighter. "I don't feel so lightheaded any more."
"Do you want to leave?"
Jackie nodded.
No one noticed their emergence from the room, probably because the gallery was even more packed than before. Leah linked her arm with Jackie's, aware that Jackie was pressing close beside her. She felt like a salmon swimming upstream. As they entered the main room of the gallery it seemed everyone suddenly knew Leah and wanted to talk.
Jackie said very little and Leah could tell every word was an effort. They were two-thirds of the way to the door when Constance materialized.
"Lee?" She put her hand on Lee's arm and glanced at Jackie. "What's up, darling?"
Leah felt Jackie's withdrawal. She tightened her grip on Jackie's arm and said to Constance, 'I have to leave, okay?"
Constance looked again at Jackie, a long, considering stare. "I thought we had a date."
"I know. I'm sorry. I don't want to leave you in the lurch, but—"
"You're going to anyway. Thanks a lot, darling," Constance said. Her smile didn't go any further than her mouth. She leaned closer to Leah. "Would you introduce me to the woman you're dumping me for?"
Jackie came to life and said quietly, "I'm Jackie Frakes. I met Leah last Thanksgiving."
"Jackie." Constance echoed. She looked at Leah and Leah could see the anger building in Constance's eyes.
"I was honest with you, Connie."
"Do you think that matters right now? Speaking of honesty, I thought she was straight."
Painted Moon Page 11
