Chapter 20
When J.T. came over later in the afternoon, Caroline noticed the wooden box under his arm right away.
“What do we have here?” she said, kissing him lightly on the lips and reaching for the box. “It’s too small for a clown.”
“I’m never going to live that down,” he said, running his free hand through his hair.
Then she noticed his bruised knuckles. “Oh, my God. What happened?” Had he finally let anger get the better of him and punched Trevor?
“We got a punching bag,” he said, “and it saw some serious action today.”
Something had clearly happened. “I hate to ask, but how was your meeting?”
“Let’s go inside,” he said. “I can tell you’re chilly.”
Despite her worry, she couldn’t help but smile. He was so thoughtful, so solicitous of her.
As they walked into the house, he set the box he was carrying on the coffee table. “I was wondering… Would you mind if I brought over some things? Razor. Change of clothes. Cologne. Stuff like that.”
She stopped short. They were having this kind of conversation now? “You didn’t mention shoes. Or socks. It’s still cold out.”
“Shoes,” he said slowly. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”
Until he posed the question, she hadn’t realized her chest had gone a little tight. “I’ve never had a man leave things at my place,” she admitted, “although this isn’t technically my place.”
“I’m not saying I’ll spend every night here,” he said. “You might want some space, and I have to prance around in a dog-and-pony show for the trustees. Um… That brings me to the reason I needed to punch something.”
Every time they parted, he came back with bad news. Keeping her spirits up was proving difficult, and the worry…
She was fretting non-stop. Maybe she needed to take up meditation or something.
“You’re a barrel of laughs,” she said, dropping into the leather loveseat. “Shoot.”
He remained standing. “I’m not sure how to start. Remember how I mentioned Trev and I were planning on doing some entertaining with the university trustees?”
“Yes.” Where was he headed with this and how did the box enter into it?
“Well, I hate this, but it’s been decided it might be better for you not to be my plus one.”
She hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “You mean because my role with the museum isn’t public yet?”
He unbuttoned his jacket. “No, because we’re an item.”
Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t follow.”
“Seems I underestimated the power of perception.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “With Cynthia’s so-called accusations about the provenance…”
The problem hit her square in the gut. “People might say I fudged something because… Oh, shit. Because we’re sleeping together. Oh, my God. And I announced it to the whole town. J.T., I’m so sorry.”
Tequila was never going to touch her lips again.
“Normally this wouldn’t be a problem,” he said, coming over and sinking to his knees in front of her.
“Bull,” she said. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about the professional implications. Moira should have kicked my butt.”
He looked away, and she sensed he still had more to tell her. “Actually, Chase talked to Moira confidentially to get her take on your involvement,” he said.
Of course he had. Chase was a forward-thinking kind of guy. Before he and Moira had started seeing each other, they’d had a very honest discussion about becoming involved and the professional issues. Both of them worked for Evan, but not at the same company. Which was why Moira would be the perfect person to negotiate her consultancy.
“So Chase is advising you on things?” she asked. “That’s good. He’s crazy smart.”
“He and Evan might be a little worried that my shit is going to hurt their new company. It’s damage control. They’ll be…ah…doing the dog-and-pony show with me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Does that mean Moira will be there?”
Nodding, he took her hands. “I know it’s shitty. Your sister will be a plus one, but not you. I wasn’t sure how to tell you. And that’s not even the worst of it.”
Had Moira planned on mentioning any of this? Or was she waiting for J.T. to do it? It made sense for Moira to accompany Chase, but being excluded made her feel a little tawdry.
“Better get it all out,” she said. “I can’t imagine worse right now.”
He stood and took a deep breath, saying, “Out of concern for your reputation, it might be better if we wait to formalize your art consultancy.”
“Don’t talk like a lawyer,” she said. “Talk to me.”
“My reputation might take a major hit, and yours might tank with it,” he said, his voice hard. “What I’d like to do instead is have you work for me informally. I’d compensate you for everything after this is all done.”
She grabbed the cashmere throw near her and clutched it, almost like it was a shield. “I can’t believe this. First, I’m not your plus one. Now, I can’t even work on the museum.” Her laugh was bitter. “Did anyone suggest we stop seeing each other until this blows over? I mean, maybe we can’t even be Facebook friends without someone or something getting hurt.”
Her outburst might have embarrassed her if the situation were different, but not today.
J.T. didn’t respond for a moment. “We seem doomed, don’t we? First, you think you’re a liability to me, and now I appear to be one to you. That’s why I asked you first if I could keep some things here.”
She looked over at him. His weight shifted to one leg as if the news he’d brought had stolen all his energy. She knew the feeling.
“I wanted to make sure you knew what was important. You. Me. That’s why I brought the— Everything else might be falling apart, but what I felt with you last night…”
He finally sat down on the loveseat next to her. “What I feel for you…it’s bigger than all the shitty politics. Caroline, I… This time, I’m asking you to hang on with me.”
Before he’d told her he wouldn’t blame her if she bowed out, and now he was asking her to stay. She clutched the throw to her chest as the difference hit her.
“I don’t ever want to hurt what we have, the museum…” she said quietly, her throat feeling scratchy now. Our future.
He uncurled her hand from the throw and squeezed it. “Me either. I know this is hard, but I…need to trust Trev’s judgment right now. I…didn’t before, and it cost me. With Evan and Chase agreeing with him, it’s…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence.
“I understand,” she said, wanting to lower her head in defeat.
“We just need to keep our relationship…more private right now,” he said.
“What exactly does that mean?” Hadn’t she announced to a full bar of people they were sleeping together?
“No, ah…public outings for the moment,” he said, looking down. “Like dates. You can’t know how much I hate this.”
“Me too.” She wanted her hand back suddenly. The tenuous connection hammered home that they were being forced to keep each other at arm’s length. “Maybe I should go back to Denver for a while.” What was she supposed to do otherwise? Twiddle her thumbs?
“No!”
She jerked back at his tone.
“Sorry I yelled. I got freaked out. Caroline Hale, we most certainly are not going to have you turn tail because Cynthia is in town. I want you here. With me. You can work on the museum.”
In private. Like everything else.
“We’ll figure things out,” he said, urgency making him lean closer.
Too close right now. She edged back.
“Please bear with me a little longer. We’re going to turn this around.”
And if they didn’t? God, she couldn’t bear the thought. Not only had she gotten fired, but it now seemed she’d inadvertently hurt her reputation by being associated with him. She couldn’t think about her career right now. She might just break down.
“Why don’t you go and pick up some things to bring over here? We can meet up later tonight.” She knew it would hurt him if she said she needed some space.
He held her gaze for an awkward moment before releasing her hand and standing up. “Sure.”
She rose too, her body heavy with sadness. They’d been so in sync last night. Right now, it felt like they were walking in two different directions on the same tightrope.
“What about the box?” she asked, gesturing to it.
He swallowed thickly when he glanced at it. “Open it when you want. I should go.”
At the door, he kissed her cheek as perfunctorily as he’d done when he’d arrived. She couldn’t bring herself to change the energy between them.
“I’ll…ah…call you,” he said, and after one last look, he headed to his car.
She went inside. The box he’d left caught her gaze, and she felt tears rising up. It was likely something romantic, if she knew him. But romance was the last thing on her mind just now. God, she’d pulled herself up by the freaking bootstraps to start working on a museum that might never happen. She’d believed in her dream job despite everything. And she’d believed in her and J.T.
Was she a fool?
She didn’t want to cry, but if she didn’t find some sort of distraction, she’d go crazy otherwise. All her siblings were at work right now or she’d have headed over to talk with them. Blake was at home next door, but this conversation was delicate, and her mother…might try and give her a pep talk, which she couldn’t take.
Maybe she could clean. Except the house was practically sparkling, it was so new. She started to wander through the rooms, looking for imperfections. The angle of one of the paintings on the wall was off, so she righted it. She felt elation at finding dust bunnies under two of the beds and in the corner closets. She decided to make her bed, something she never did. Yeah, it was that bad. After refolding the blanket on her bed in a mathematically perfect square, she sat down. God, this was pathetic.
She was pathetic.
Tears popped into her eyes, and she couldn’t stop them. She couldn’t reconcile how things had gotten to be so upside down. When she’d first met J.T., she’d jumped on the happy and spontaneous ride. He’d flown her to Rome and then Napa. Their attraction had been instantaneous and palpable.
For a while, she’d thought she’d end up with her dream job and her dream man, but love wasn’t supposed to feel like this. All she felt was fear and dread—and yeah, a little shame too. She lay on the bed for a while, stewing on it, and then made herself get up. It was time to be more proactive, and she had two people she wanted to talk to.
Trevor picked up on the second ring. “Hey! My brother is moping around upstairs but won’t say why. I assume he told you about laying low for a while, and it didn’t go well. Can’t say I blame you. I thought the letters might help, but fuck it. Who wants romance when your career is in jeopardy?”
Had she ever met a more direct man? Right now she was too tired to be anything less than equally direct. She’d deal with whatever these letters were later. “Do you think I should leave and go to Denver?”
There was silence for at least thirty seconds. “It might be helpful, but you’ve already announced your relationship publicly. Short of you two breaking up—which I don’t want to see—I don’t think a change of location will help.”
“So out of sight out of mind doesn’t work anymore?” she asked.
“Not in our modern world, no,” he said. “Unless you’re living in Siberia, but even then you’d be surprised how well connected they are these days.”
Her heart, her career, was in tatters, and he was talking about Siberia?
“Will you tell me if you change your mind? I mean…if you do need me to go. I don’t think J.T. would be…able to…”
Her throat felt like a cold was coming on suddenly, and she cleared her throat.
“Yes,” he said. “I really like you, but I’m always going to put my brother and our family first.”
“I totally understand.” Family was supposed to be like that.
“Don’t underestimate me though,” he said. “I think we’ll get ahead of this. The law might have sided with Sin City in the divorce, but this is something different. I excel at damage control and influencing people.”
“You’re a regular Dale Carnegie, I imagine,” she said dryly. “Don’t tell him we talked.”
She hated to keep anything from him, but she didn’t want him to feel she’d gone behind his back.
“I won’t,” he said. “If you need a sounding board, I’m here. Thanks for taking a backseat for a while.”
As she hung up, she felt defeated. Yep, that was her. The backseat. Could her life be in worse shape? Well, now it was time to talk things out with Moira.
She waited until she thought Chase and Moira would be home from work and then simply swung by. Moira was holding two glasses of red wine. She extended one to her.
“I thought I might see you,” her sister said. “Come on in. I know you’re upset.”
The sight of the wine only made her stomach turn. “None for me. Moira—”
“Will you get in here? I’m not having this discussion with the door open. Besides, Barney might run out.”
She reluctantly followed her sister inside, mostly out of deference to the cat. It would be just her luck if it escaped and got run over. Chase was sitting on the couch and started to rise.
“I’ll just—”
“No, you stay put,” Caroline said to him, crossing her arms. “I understand why you didn’t tell me about this, Moira, but it still sucks.” She wouldn’t mention she’d planned to have her sister be her negotiator. None of that mattered now.
“It was my fault,” Chase said, holding up a hand. “I wanted a second opinion. I should have handled it better.”
“What was there to handle?” she asked. “Announcing our relationship like that last night was a stupid mistake. I’m more mad at myself than anyone…which I realized today while I tidied a guesthouse no one has ever slept in.”
“Not that!” Moira said, her lips twitching. “You and Natalie. She cleans like a madwoman when she’s upset.”
“The place is so clean I had to resort to making my bed,” she said, noticing even the cat wasn’t coming out to greet her. “Never mind that. I want to know how bad things are for J.T. And the museum. Honestly. Chase, I know you have a sense of these things.”
He glanced at Moira. Already you could see their unity as a couple, and if things weren’t so bad just now, she might have been heartened by it.
“Well, it’s mostly a lot of dirt slinging, and from J.T.’s ex-wife… Normal people would understand she has an axe to grind.”
“She seems to keep sharpening it,” Caroline said dryly, “and important people don’t appear to notice she’s carrying it in her Grace Kelly purse.”
“Wait!” Moira said, standing up straighter. “Not to be a girl, but Sin City has a Hermès Kelly Bag?”
“Yes. Focus, Moira!”
Her sister playfully slapped her own cheek. “Okay, girl moment over.”
“Thank God,” Chase said. “I was about to break off our engagement.”
“Har-de-har-har,” her sister said, sticking her tongue out. “Just because I’m tough doesn’t mean I’m not a girl.”
“I’d never dispute that you’re a girl,” Chase said. “Never mind. All right, do you want my balls-to-the-walls personal opinion?”
“Yes, I want the complete truth.” She took the chair next to where he was sitting on the couch, and Moira joined them.
Chase poked his fiancée as if he was expecting her to make another joke, but his gaze was on Caroline. “The Newhouse name carries a lot of weight. Cynthia alone wouldn’t be as formidable, but her family is loaded—and respected. The Merriam name lays claim to the same respect, of course; it’s going to come down to who slings the mud the best. Right now, Cynthia is winning, especially with the bribery and Nazi stolen art accusations. I hate to say this because it’s going to piss you ladies off, but…”
Moira nudged him in the chest. “Go ahead. Piss us off. I think I know what you’re going to say anyway.”
He sighed. “If you tell anyone I said this, I will deny it to my dying day. Cynthia is a charming, beautiful woman, and she’s using every tool in her arsenal here on…”
“What?” she asked.
“Men like President Matthau,” Chase said. “Some of us are susceptible to such forms of flattery.”
“Maybe I need to bat my eyelashes more,” Moira said, mimicking the gesture.
“So you think Dr. Slimeball is more susceptible to her claims because of her ‘charms’?” Caroline asked.
“Not completely,” Chase said. “From what I can tell, Cynthia is holding a carrot in front of Dr. Matthau.”
“What’s the carrot?” she asked.
He shrugged. “We don’t know yet. But I imagine we’ll find out soon enough. No use worrying about it now.”
She pulled on her hair. “Not worry? I’m out of a job and have just been informed I’m a liability to J.T. both personally and professionally. Hell, I called Trevor before I came over and asked him if I should go back to Denver for a while.”
Chase’s eyes immediately shuttered. “What did he say?”
It concerned her that the man had to ask. “Not right now. But he promised he’d tell me if that changed. Seriously, I’m in limbo-land. I hate this! I’m out of work. Fired! The job I wanted is in jeopardy. The way I was hoping to keep occupied is no longer an option.”
“As an art consultant,” Moira said. “Chase told me.”
“Great, that saves time. Of course, J.T. told me today that I could keep working informally and he’d pay me later…”
Moira’s brows slammed together. “Usually I would advise against that. Okay, let’s talk brass tacks. Here’s the thing. Caro, you are in limbo. The main question is: do you still want to work with J.T. at the museum?”
“Of course! Haven’t you been listening?”
“Then you’ll have to keep waiting until the job comes open,” Moira said. “I hate to sound like a human resource person—”
“But she is,” Chase said, “and a really good one.”
“Thank you, darling,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Caroline, it’s not uncommon for jobs to take a while to firm up.”
She threw out her hands. “I understand all that. I just don’t have anything to do, and I’m…shit…I’m scared. How’s that for honest?”
Moira rose and wrapped her arms around her. She soaked in her sister’s nearness, letting herself take comfort in her embrace.
“It’s okay to be afraid,” Moira said in a quiet voice. “I would be if I were you, but you need to let J.T. and the rest of us do our part to get things back on track. Heck, Uncle Arthur has his boxing gloves on, and with Meredith and Tanner—”
“But you didn’t see the way that woman walked into the gallery,” she interrupted.
Moira pulled back and knelt by her chair. “Tell me.”
“She walked around like she owned the place and everything—and everyone—in it. I know you mentioned her beauty, Chase, and there’s no denying it. I can’t comment on her charm—she had none for me—but she’s also scary smart. I mean, how smart are J.T. and Trev, and she has them spinning like tops. Then there’s the fact that her viciousness springs from a place of real hurt. I mean, when she talked about J.T. leaving her, even a blind man would have seen her broken heart.”
“Heartbreak makes people react all sorts of ways,” Chase said.
“Prison is full of them,” Moira quipped.
“That’s not funny,” Caroline insisted, even as she barked out a laugh.
“Do we need to find a picture of Cynthia and superimpose an orange jumpsuit on her?” her sister asked. “Would that make you feel better?”
J.T. had boxed as a coping mechanism. Maybe she needed one too. “Probably. That makes me a horrible person, doesn’t it?”
“Terrible,” Moira said and made a face. “If so, I’m the worst.”
Chase, who’d been shaking his head, started laughing. “A jumpsuit…Moira, no wonder I love you.”
“You know, you were a serious fuddy duddy before you met me,” she said, rejoining him on the loveseat and leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thank God you’re done with that.”
As Caroline watched, Chase put his hand on her sister’s thigh and stroked it sweetly. The gesture made her feel a pang of longing for J.T.
“I’m glad you’re joining our family, Chase,” she said.
“Me too,” he answered, looking at Moira a moment longer. “Okay, what more can we do to help?”
“Besides your plan to wine and dine the trustees with J.T. and Trevor?” she asked. “Nothing.”
“I meant for you,” he said, leaning forward. “If you’re bored, you could help us unpack files for the new company.”
“I’m not that bored.” She wasn’t going to mention she’d been organizing her own files for the museum this morning. No siree.
Moira laughed. “Caroline hates that crap. That’s why she’s in the art world. You could paint the ceiling of our dining room. Two figures touching fingers might look nice above the chandelier.”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny.”
“Maybe you should keep working on the museum informally like you mentioned,” Moira said.
She wanted to kick something. Nothing had been accomplished—she was back where she’d been a couple of hours ago. “You know, I was going to have you negotiate my rate and everything.”
“Consider it done,” Moira said.
“Things are going to start changing in our favor,” Chase said as she left.
She sure as hell hoped so.
When Caroline returned home, she faced down the box J.T. had left her. Inside were a stack of yellowed letters with a note. She opened it with a tight heart.
I asked my mom to send the love letters my grandparents wrote each other during WWII. I realized the other day you remind me of my grandma. She was strong and courageous and had one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever come across—until I met you. I hope you’ll see what I see when you read them. They were a couple who hung tight during tough times because they loved each other.
She sank onto the chair, holding the box in her lap, fighting tears again. Just when she was so frustrated and defeated, he’d found the perfect way to tell her to hang on a little while longer. In the end, the decision was simple, she realized, as she traced his bold signature.
She would hang on for love, no matter what.