Chapter 3
Veronica
“Look what I found,” I said and held up the heart locket. The same heart locket that I’d found in the box of stuff Carter had dropped off at my house not fifteen minutes ago. I’d given this to my sister years ago as a symbol of our sisterhood. When we’d lived together, Jayne had worn it every day.
We’d laughed and joked and for the first time in our lives we’d been sisters, friends even, instead of competitors for Mom and Dad’s affections.
“I don’t think it goes with the cocktail dress,” Georgia said and checked her manicure. “It’s cute and everything but –”
“G, this is the locket I gave Jayne two years ago.”
“Ugh,” Georgia replied and rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to sound like a bitch here but Jayne is a cow. She never cared about any of that sisterly stuff. Testament to the fact that she ditched you the minute she found someone who could provide for her.”
Jayne had always been selfish, sure, but I’d never viewed her as a money grabber. She’d paid her side of the rent when she’d lived with me. I’d never asked where the money had come from, but she’d paid it.
“What kind of a sister takes off for Europe with some dude she barely knows and leaves you behind to take care of everything here?”
“She calls sometimes,” I said and dropped the locket. Weird that it’d made me wistful about a person I’d pretty much dismissed after the last call-fight we’d had.
“Uh-huh, I bet those calls are great. Hey, Vee, I’m here in Italy living it up while you slum it in SoHo.” Georgia made her voice two tones higher.
“I don’t think it’s possible to slum it in SoHo,” I pointed out. I spun and checked my reflection in the mirror over my dressing table. Black, silky, and cut above the knee, it definitely wasn’t the look I was accustomed to.
“I don’t like the heels,” Georgia said, gesturing to my shoes. “You need something strappy. Have you got strappy?”
“No,” I said, and even if I did, we were out of time. “We’ve got to get to the gallery or I’ll miss my own showing.” God, fingers crossed someone actually bought a few pieces. If I didn’t sell something soon I’d have to get a job at Wendy’s to make rent and even that wouldn’t cover it.
Now, that would be slumming it in SoHo.
“All right, if you insist. But at least let me add some pizazz.” Georgia drew a tube of lipstick out of her sparkly, silver clutch. “Some oomph.”
“I want them to buy the art, not me. That’s hooker red.”
“Ex-cah-use me, this is a very popular shade. Taylor Swift wears it.” Georgia inched forward, lipstick out and twiddling.
“Keep that thing away from me,” I said and darted past her. I grabbed my handbag off the bedside table and ran for the door.
“You’re doomed to be fashion impaired for the rest of your life.”
“I’m wearing the dress,” I called back. “That counts for something, at least. Baby steps.”
“Uh-huh. Baby steps in heels that don’t match the dress. Heaven help me. My eyes are bleeding.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” I said and walked my best friend to the door. She’d come to the art gallery to support me. I could use it. Georgia was great at talking things up to people – the joys of having an aspiring actress as a best friend.
“That’s like telling water not to be wet.” Georgia shut the door behind us and we hurried down the stairs to the waiting car – my beat-up Honda. “Here we go,” G said. “Old clap trap to the rescue.”
“It’s this or we take a taxi.”
“A taxi? To an art gallery? Sacrilege.” Georgia slid into the passenger seat, and I got into the driver’s and turned on the engine.
I sighed and clipped on my seatbelt. The afternoon had been weird, to say the least. First, the theft of my delicates and everything in between, then the appearance of my sister’s devilishly handsome husband and the box of memories he’d brought with him.
Stuff that Jayne must’ve packed up and taken with her shortly after that first trip to Italy. The last time I’d seen her in person had been that morning when she’d rocked up to announce she’d only come back to grab her stuff and that she was engaged.
I’d been shocked at the time. Too blown away to be happy for her.
“Tick, tick, boom, time’s running out, sweetheart,” Georgia said. “We’re going to be late for your own showing.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I just can’t stop thinking about today. Not even about Jackson, but about Jayne’s husband.”
“The guy who dropped off the box.”
“Yeah,” I said. “He was – I don’t know how to put it.”
“Old? Rich?”
“Handsome. Intelligent. Not who I’d picture Jayne with.” She was more of a Kid Rock kinda gal.
“And this bothers you,” Georgia said, checking the filigree watch on her arm. “Enough to lose potential buyers?”
“I guess not. It was just weird is all.”
“Anything to do with your sister is weird,” Georgia replied. “You’ve always been opposites. I never understood why you invited her to live with you in the first place.”
That was a train of thought I didn’t want to follow. I flicked on my blinker instead, checked my mirrors and scooted out of the parking space, and into traffic. It was pretty busy on the roads at this time of the day but the gallery wasn’t far.
It took us ten minutes of Georgia clamoring on about her latest audition – God knew I loved her but the woman could talk – before I pulled into another parking space, exited the vehicle and led the way up to the gallery’s front doors.
Inside, the showing had already begun. Folks traipsed from painting to painting, stopping to admire or speculate about the art. They sipped from champagne flutes and wore fancy dresses and suits. Georgia’s instincts had been right on this one. If I’d turned up in my SpongeBob shirt, I might’ve died of embarrassment.
Georgia and I circled the crowd and made for the art gallery owner near the counter at the back of the room. He spotted me and waved.
“Good evening, Miss Heath. I’m glad to see you’re taking this seriously.”
“As seriously as my livelihood,” I replied and brushed off the front of my dress. It didn’t feel right to wear this in front of all these people – I’d never been the glamorous type – but at least the owner was impressed.
“I’ve got some good news for you,” Jerome said, flicking his long dark hair back from his wireframe glasses. “We’ve already sold three of your paintings. The largest pieces, in fact.”
“Are you kidding?” I asked, and my stomach whooped. This was exactly what I needed. “But the showing started fifteen minutes ago. Didn’t it?”
“That’s correct. The gentleman who bought them specifically requested your work by name. Handsome man, if I may be so bold.” Jerome nodded to a tall man in a tux, who stood in front of another of my paintings, a Tuscan-inspired landscape, at the other end of the room.
“That’s him?” I asked.
Jerome sniffed and nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to mingle. I suggest you do the same.” He sauntered off, wiggling his butt as he did.
“Wow,” Georgia said. “Now, that is one tall, dark and handsome dude. Damn.”
I focused on the purchaser. “I’d better go over and thank him. That’s my month’s full rent paid from this sale.” Man, this couldn’t have come at a better time.
“Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”
Georgia trailed me over to the mystery buyer dude and my heart kept skipping beats for some reason. It couldn’t be because he was tall and broad shouldered; no, that was shallow. It was because those purchases had saved me a lot of pain. With the leftovers, I might be able to afford new art supplies.
I tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”
He turned, revealing his square jaw and – Oh, God. No, this couldn’t be for real.
“Good evening, Veronica,” Carter said, flashing a smile at me. “You mentioned you had a showing tonight, and I thought I’d come take a look at what was on offer.”
“On offer? It was on display,” I said. “And you bought it. Three of my – you bought –”
“Yeah, you’re really talented,” he replied. “You capture light beautifully.”
“Who is this guy?” Georgia asked, looking from my shocked expression to Carter’s smug grin and back again. “Why do I feel like the slow kid in the class? Knock, knock, Vee, who is this guy?”
My mouth flapped open and shut. Why was he here? And why had he bought up my paintings? It wasn’t a big deal but it felt wrong. It felt weird. I hadn’t thought I’d see my sister’s husband again – they were separated, after all – and the fact that I’d checked him out made this downright awkward.
“Okay, clearly Veronica has left the building,” Georgia said, extending her hand toward Carter. “I’m Georgia Meadows. You are?”
“Carter Jones.” He shook once and released her.
“Enchante,” Georgia purred, but cut off. Her eyes went round as dinner plates. “Wait a second, the Carter Jones. Forbes Top Ten Carter Jones? Billionaire Carter Jones?”
“Well, if I wasn’t him, that mantra would probably summon Carter Jones out of thin air.”
Georgia tittered a laugh, which faded into a dry wheeze. “Sorry, I just can’t believe it’s you.”
“You knew he was my brother-in-law,” I managed, at last. Georgia’s awe bothered me, and I couldn’t put my finger on why.
“Yeah, but I didn’t expect to ever meet him.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, focusing on Carter instead.
“I – enjoying the show,” he replied and swished his champagne flute. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you by coming out. I enjoyed our chat this afternoon and you mentioned the gallery so I thought I’d check it out.”
“Right,” I said. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here but I’m not going to stand for it.”
“What?” Carter’s magnificent jaw dropped.
“Uh, Veronica, you’re causing a scene,” Georgia advised.
Maybe I was. Maybe the pressure of being robbed and realizing my sister was officially AWOL and living it up somewhere in the world while I suffered and tried to make ends meet back home, in the apartment we supposedly shared, had finally built up and spilled over.
“I’m not a charity case, Mr. Jones,” I said. “You might think I need your help but I don’t. Understand?”
“That’s not what this is about,” he replied, but he radiated guilt. This was exactly what it was about.
“You don’t owe me anything. We might be technically related by marital bonds or whatever the heck it’s called but –”
Carter stepped closer and the scent of his cologne, Armani if I wasn’t mistaken, scoured words from my lips. “Stop,” he said, softly. “You’re not going to sell anymore art if you lose it in front of all these people.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I hissed, even though he was absolutely right. I would lose sales and people would leave the gallery if I continued down this path.
“You can think what you want about me,” Carter said. “I don’t know what Jayne has told you, but I’m not the kind of guy who tries to buy people or give charity where it’s not wanted. I came to enjoy the art and right now, you’re ruining that experience for me.”
I glared up at him. “I’m ruining it for you?”
“That’s right,” he whispered, breath grazing my skin. His gaze tracked down my body, over the clinging silk and curves.
Heat radiated between us. I pictured wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling in close, melding my body to his. God, what the hell was wrong with me? This was Jayne’s husband. It didn’t matter that they were separated. Those thoughts were pure craziness. It had to be the pressure of everything.
“People are staring,” Georgia hissed.
“Fine,” I said. “If I’m ruining your view, I’d better get out of your way.” I marched off before he could get another word out and make me feel any worse.
Georgia rushed after me, heels clacking on the hardwood floor. “Wow,” she said. “Wow, that was pretty hot.”
“What?” I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s into you. You’re into him. It’s plain as –”
“G, stop it. Just stop.”
“But he was looking at you like he –”
“I don’t want to hear this right now,” I said. All I wanted was a flute of champagne to pass the time until I could head home and curl up in my bed with the only pillow my ex hadn’t stolen.