Chapter 30
Caroline was in her robe when she heard the knock on her front door.
Her nerves were stretched taut as she walked to it and looked through the peephole. J.T. was standing on the other side, as she’d both feared and hoped. God, what a fight they’d had. How could they have said those awful things to each other? When he’d marched out and left the house, she and Trevor had been speechless. Then Trevor had asked if she wanted a drink, and she’d declined. For once, he’d seemed grateful to see the back of her.
After coming home, she’d made a fire and sat in front of it, going over her actions in the last twenty-four hours. It galled her to admit that Trev was right—both she and J.T. had been out of line, good intentions aside, and they were letting Cynthia mess with their relationship.
“I’m sorry,” she said the moment she opened the door.
“That was my line,” he said, putting a hand over his heart. “Sorry isn’t good enough—”
“You already said it,” she said, covering her bare feet with her robe as much as possible. Cold wind was sweeping in around her.
“Yeah, but I wish there was something more I could say,” he said, pausing for a moment. “I’m sorry I walked out on you and Trev. I needed some air, and I thought a drive would help.”
So that’s where he’d gone.
“Ah…can I come in? I have some other things I need to say.”
Her muscles tightened again. “I don’t want to rehash things, J.T. I love you. I…don’t want us to keep fighting like this. Trev nailed it—this is exactly what Cynthia wants.”
He stepped toward her, his eyes searching hers. “Can I…hold you?”
His earnest gaze pulled her to him like a magnet. Going into his arms, she pressed her face to his chest. His arms were tight around her at first, and she realized hers had cinched around him too. It was almost like they both were afraid to let go now that they’d come back together again. She made herself relax, and felt him do the same.
Pulling him inside, she shut the door behind them, then returned to his embrace.
“I was wrong to imply you were just some employee who should listen to me,” he said. “I’ve never thought that or acted like that before. It’s not going to happen again.”
She wanted to believe him, but his ex had a way of influencing him.
“This is screwing up everything,” he whispered.
“What is?” she asked, wanting to be sure she understood.
“When I had the idea for the museum, I was so excited about coming back to Dare Valley to reclaim our family’s place here.” He edged back so he could see her. “Have I ever told you how nostalgic I’ve always been about this town? I used to say it had a sky of endless blue, like nowhere else in the world. I’d hike to the top of one of the mountains around here and feel like the king of the mountain. Trev used to make fun of me, but those summers here were some of the best of my life.”
Childhood memories were often viewed in a rosy light, she knew, as if they all took place beneath a glorious sunset. “I have feelings like that about the snow picnics we used to have when I was a kid. My mom would pack up submarine sandwiches and load us into her old van. We’d go to Black Lake on a sunny day and build snowmen and have snowball fights and giggle.”
“I miss those days sometimes,” he said. “The simplicity of them. Growing up has its perks, but my life didn’t turn out like I thought it would. I got married hoping to create a family of my own. Happy moments like going hiking with my family or slinging mud at my girl.”
He was referring to the famous mud incident when they were kids. Normally, it would have made her smile, but she found herself thinking about that little girl she’d seen in her mind, holding both their hands. Part of her still wondered what it meant. The other part hoped it was a vision of their future.
“I hate how weak this whole thing makes me feel, but I don’t know how to fix it. I feel like I’m paying for one mistake over and over again.”
Seeing the havoc Cynthia had already caused, she could well understand that point of view, but Trev was right. They couldn’t give in. They couldn’t let her win. “Your life isn’t finished yet, J.T.”
“No,” he said, “but it’s a constant battle. If I ever stop fighting, she’ll take everything. That’s why I needed to get the press release out tonight.”
“I know you believe that,” she said with a sigh, stepping away from him. “How about some tea?”
“I’ll make an espresso, if that’s okay,” he said, following her to the kitchen.
Usually he didn’t ask. He just made one. When he didn’t move toward the espresso machine he’d brought from her place in Denver, her solar plexus tightened. The awkward tension was intense. Making coffee had been such a simple task before.
“Please,” she said, gesturing to the machine.
She made her way to the cabinet, taking her time to select an herbal tea even though there were only three choices. It struck her viscerally that their ease with each other was gone.
Oh, she wouldn’t let that slide. They needed to understand each other—and for that to happen, they needed to talk openly.
“J.T.,” she said, turning around. “I know how precious this museum and coming back to Dare Valley is to you, but I need you to know the stakes are different for us. You have limitless things you could do and a financial safety net in place to do it. You’re well known in business and now philanthropy…”
He walked over to the edge of the counter as she searched for the right words.
“What I’m trying to say is… Art has been my passion since I was a child. Some kids were reading Harry Potter, but I was combing through art books and those high-gloss coffee table books museums put out. This is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, and I figured out how to have a career doing it, which wasn’t easy. I even managed to make a name for myself in Denver and the Western art community. But right now, it feels like all of that is in jeopardy. I don’t have anything else to fall back on.”
She watched him swallow thickly.
“More so, I don’t want anything else to fall back on,” she added, fingering the corners of the tea box as they stared at each other.
“I hear what you’re saying,” he said, extending his hand to her and then letting it fall before she could decide whether to take it. “I’ll be more careful to consider how my actions impact you and your career going forward.”
He shifted on his feet and looked down. She still hadn’t pulled the tea box out of the cabinet.
“Maybe I should go,” he said. “It’s late, and I have a lot of calls to return. Europe is already awake, and there is a lot of interest in our lost Rembrandt.”
He wanted to leave? Now? She’d wanted to make things better, but it felt like all the eggshells they were walking on had given way completely.
“Of course,” she said, shutting the cabinet. “I’ve had some calls as well from people I know from Leggett. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I haven’t called them back. By the way, thank you…for putting me in the press release. I…didn’t know—”
She’d finally read it after their fight, and it had brought tears to her eyes.
“Of course you’re in the press release,” he said, shaking his head at her. “You’re the museum’s curator, after all. I wanted you to have your due, Caroline. Even though we’ve rushed things, we’re still going to do them right. I promise.”
That reassured her. She had to admit the press release had been thorough and professional. She’d realized Sin City’s comments in the restaurant had influenced her perspective. No one could manipulate like that woman could.
“Before you go…I forgot to mention earlier, but I asked Lucy to photograph the Rembrandt tomorrow. We need pictures for the press.”
He took his time buttoning his suit jacket. “Good idea.”
“As you said…we need them fast.” Yes, I understood the urgency, she wanted to say, even though we disagreed.
His eyes flickered to hers, and she could almost feel his guilt.
“I called Clara about it when I got home,” she said, “and she’s…ah…fine with it.”
If the woman had suspected she was upset, she hadn’t said anything. She’d merely agreed to the arrangement, saying she’d be there bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with the Rembrandt. And perhaps a gin and tonic, God help them.
“Did you tell her about the press release?” he asked.
She clutched the ties of her robe. “No. I thought it best if you did.”
He nodded. “What time tomorrow?”
“I can confirm the exact time with Lucy in the morning and let you know.”
“Good,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “Good.”
Silence grew in the kitchen.
“Well, I should let you…”
He walked out of the kitchen, and she followed him to the door, her chest still heavy with regret.
“I have some ideas about how to handle the next couple of days,” he said. “I thought a press conference might be helpful. Aunt Clara can talk about the Rembrandt and why she chose to keep it hidden.”
Caroline rubbed the back of her head. “I’ve been thinking about that too. We’ll need to be proactive to address the comments.”
He shrugged. “We’ll have to get everyone so excited about the painting that little details like that don’t matter.”
He was being a little naïve. Art was about details when it came to things like history and provenance. But she didn’t want to say anything right now. She couldn’t bear another disagreement between them.
“Of course.”
He kissed her cheek, his lips barely brushing her skin. She leaned forward, but he was already stepping back.
“Goodnight,” he said softly, opening and closing the door behind him.
She sank against the wood and listened to his car pull off. Should she have asked him to stay? Right now, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react. Or even how she wanted to react.
They might have apologized to each other, but they were a long way from being reconciled.