The Best of Friends Page 4

  “I got Pride and Prejudice,” Rebecca told her. “The long version with Colin Firth. We’ll watch it tonight with lots of junk food and ice cream. You still like chocolate chip, right?”

  “I’d like that. Are you all right?”

  “I’m worried about you. This is me being caring. You should enjoy it while it lasts.”

  It was more than that. There was something else going on. Something that screamed handsome-man trouble. “Have you talked to Nigel?”

  “No. Not for months. Since before the wedding. A friend sent me the write-up in the paper.”

  “Not a very good friend,” Jayne said.

  Rebecca rested her forearms on her knees. “It’s better this way. I could never have trusted him. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? Love isn’t sensible. If it was, there’d be a whole lot less heartache in the world. Love is impossible and foolish.” Jayne knew that for a fact, although she told herself she wasn’t in love. She had a crush. There was a difference.

  Rebecca’s blue eyes filled with tears. “I miss him. How stupid is that? I actually miss him. He came and told me to my face that he was marrying Ariel, and I still want to be with him. There’s a hole where my heart used to be.” She frowned. “Isn’t that a song?”

  “I think so. Probably from the eighties.”

  Rebecca sniffed, then straightened and pressed her index fingers to the inside corners of her eyes. “No tears. Not over Nigel. He was a blip on my emotional radar. Nothing more. He’s not worth it.”

  “So few of them are.”

  Rebecca nodded. “It’s just… I still remember what he was like the day I met him. I was young and foolish, and he was everything I could have wished for.”

  Stopping the tears was a whole lot easier than ignoring the past, Rebecca thought, trying not to recall how Nigel had looked the first time she’d seen him. It had been colder than she’d expected for July. But then, it had also been her first time in Australia and her first experience with the switch in seasons.

  He’d been laughing in the sun, in shirtsleeves, when everyone else had been in a coat or jacket. He’d turned and smiled at her, and she’d been in love with him ever since.

  Nearly eleven years ago she’d run away, assuming one could call it that at eighteen. Tired of fighting with her mother, she’d taken off. Jayne had begged her to stay, had promised to help work things out between Rebecca and Elizabeth, but the chasm ran too deep. Like trying to cut a flawed stone. Eventually, it simply shattered.

  So she’d left. She’d had a bit of money, but not enough to support herself in the style she’d grown up enjoying. Meaning a job was required. Jayne had doubted her friend’s ability to make it in the real world, but Rebecca had surprised her—and maybe herself—by getting an office job at one of the large diamond mines in Australia. The Worden name had helped, as had David’s willingness to vouch for his sister. She’d learned about the family business, literally from the ground up.

  Nigel had taught her how to see diamonds hiding in what looked like worthless rock. She’d studied geology with the experts employed by the mine, had watched the diamond cutters work their magic. But drawn more by the finished product than by the lure of discovery, she’d left a few years later.

  At twenty-one, she’d come into a large portion of her inheritance, enough for her to move to Europe. She settled in Milan to study jewelry making with a grumpy master craftsman who made her sweep floors for months before he would even speak to her. Eventually, he’d taught her his craft, and she’d discovered a talent for creating the perfect setting to make a diamond shine.

  And as constant as the sun, there’d been Nigel. Like David, he had traveled the world, looking for the next perfect find. Unlike her brother, who brought his stones back to the family business, Nigel searched for the rare, the perfect, the unobtainable, and sold it to the highest bidder.

  She often thought that was why they’d lasted so long. If she’d stayed in Australia, the relationship would have eventually burned itself out. But she’d left, and no mere woman left a man like Nigel. So he’d followed her, showing up when she least expected him, staying just long enough for her to remember how much she loved his hands, his laugh, his words. Then he disappeared, and all she had left was the work that filled her days and the memories that made her ache at night.

  While their relationship had always been volatile, she’d never thought he would marry someone else. Right now, given the choice between him and the perfect blue diamond, she would choose the man. Hopefully, with time, that would change. Like Jayne, she would heal. Because right now she felt… broken.

  “Have you considered that Nigel is all flash and no substance?” Jayne asked.

  “A thousand times.”

  “And?”

  “On my good days, I believe it.”

  Nigel hadn’t been her first lover, but he’d been her first love. Her only love. God knows she’d tried to fall for other guys, but so far she’d been spectacularly unsuccessful.

  There was a knock on the front door. She answered it and collected the prescription from David. When she returned to the living room, she held out the pills to Jayne.

  “I went to the Italian place on the corner. There’s minestrone soup, bread, and gorgonzola-and-walnut ravioli with a butter garlic sauce. Is that all right?”

  Jayne shook her head. “No spaghetti in a can for you.”

  “Is that what you want? It sounds disgusting.”

  “No. I’ll start with the soup and bread. If I can keep that down, I’ll eat more.”

  Rebecca went into the kitchen and pulled out the containers of soup. She dumped one in a bowl and put it in the microwave. A minute later, she carried it to Jayne, who’d sat up. She put the soup on the coffee table.

  “Bread, right?” she asked, then sighed. “I’m not very good at this caretaking thing.”

  “You’re doing fine. I’ll talk you through it.”

  Rebecca collected a second bowl of soup for herself, along with bread and bottles of water. Then she sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table.

  “What happened at the house?” she asked. “I left you alone for all of an hour. This is about my mother, isn’t it?”

  Jayne groaned. “It’s a mess. I went over to open up for David and realized no one had been there to let in the florist. The floral display for the foyer was waiting out back, but you know how big they are. I wrestled with the vase and lost.”

  Rebecca winced. “You didn’t get cut by the glass?”

  “Oh, I saved the vase. I’m the one who got smashed. It’s fine.”

  “You’ve got to stop doing things for my mother.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Elizabeth had always treated Jayne as an unpaid assistant. Jayne was smart, easy to be with, and efficient. Rebecca got why her mother liked the arrangement—what she couldn’t figure out was why Jayne put up with it.

  “Why are you nice to her?” she asked.

  Jayne reached for a piece of bread. “Because I want to be. Your mother isn’t the devil.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “She’s always been good to me,” Jayne said. “I owe her.”

  “At what point is the debt paid? At what point are you even? You’ve given back enough. Move on.”

  “If only I could,” Jayne murmured.

  “Meaning what? You’ve thought about leaving?”

  Jayne sighed. “Everyone has a fantasy life. In a not-so-subtle change of subject, when are you going to tell your parents you’re back?”

  “I don’t know. I was planning on showing them rather than telling them. I’ll wait for the right opportunity.” Something flashy that would ruin her mother’s day.

  “What about the jewelry? You have to tell them what you’re doing. Elizabeth loves your work.”

  Rebecca grinned, delighted. “Wait until she finds out those wonderful designs she so admires are mad
e by her own daughter. She’ll be horrified.”

  “She’ll be proud.” Jayne hesitated. “In her heart.”

  Rebecca laughed. “You’re being kinder that she deserves. Knowing that I’m Rivalsa will make her want to pound her head against the wall. It’ll be a great show, and I plan to enjoy every minute of it.”

  Once Rebecca had started designing jewelry, she’d created a name to hide behind. Rivalsa, Italian for revenge, suited her. David had wanted an exclusive deal with her. She agreed, but only on the condition he keep her identity a secret. While he hadn’t wanted to go along with that, she’d insisted, and in the end, they’d both made a lot of money. The first time she found out Elizabeth was wearing her pieces had thrilled her. She’d known then she was close to returning home—she just had to wait for the right moment.

  “I know she’s difficult,” Jayne began.

  “I swear, you’re secretly a middle child,” Rebecca complained. “No. You can’t make this better. She never wanted me—she made that clear over and over again. When I left, she didn’t bother getting in touch with me. At least my dad came out and made sure I was all right.”

  “You didn’t get in touch with her, either.”

  “I’m not the parent,” Rebecca said. “You know she was glad I’d left. I’d been nothing but trouble. You’re the perfect daughter she never had.”

  “I’m not her daughter.”

  “I know, but she would have preferred you to me.”

  Jayne pressed her lips together but didn’t speak. There was nothing to say.

  Rebecca knew in her head she should let the whole mother thing go. She was an adult. But there was a part of her that had never accepted Elizabeth’s indifference. A part that wanted to make her mother pay attention, and if she couldn’t get her attention by being good, she was happy to earn it by being bad. That philosophy had bitten her in the ass plenty of times, but not enough for her to change.

  “Do you think I need therapy?” she asked.

  Jayne put down her spoon. “You’re the most mentally healthy person I know.” The corners of her mouth twitched as she spoke.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Any time.”

  Rebecca reached for the DVD case and opened it. “Let’s see what Mr. Darcy has to say about all of this. How does it go? Any man of good fortune must be in want of a wife?”

  Elizabeth Worden walked into her house and breathed a sigh of relief. Home at last. While travel always sounded glamorous, the reality was, it was inconvenient and required one to go to foreign places. She’d never truly understood the thrill of the unknown. She had always preferred the comfortable rhythms of her perfect life. She walked through the foyer, only to pause and stare at the flower arrangement on the center table.

  It was a haphazard mess of crumpled orchids and crooked lilies. The greenery was all bunched on one side, as if a five-year-old had put it together.

  “I can’t believe it,” she murmured.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  The voice of her son distracted her momentarily. She looked toward the stairs and saw David. He dressed like a street urchin, but she’d learned to ignore the worn jeans and casual shirts he liked so much. Instead, she took in the handsome face and the way he moved, and she felt a fierce surge of pride. No matter what else went wrong in her life, David had turned out exactly right.

  “Welcome back,” she said, crossing to him and cupping his face.

  “Same to you. I’m sorry you had trouble with weather.”

  She studied him, noticed a new line or two. Not that lines were a problem for a handsome, rich man. Unlike women, men could age gracefully. After offering her cheek to be kissed, she set her handbag on a side table.

  “Fortunately, we won’t have to go back to that wretched country for the rest of the year. I refuse to even think about traveling anytime soon. I don’t know how you did it, always moving around the world. It’s so inconvenient.” She turned back to the flowers and frowned.

  “I must call the office in the morning and complain,” she said. “I’m more than a little surprised Jayne would put out the display. She’s normally more discerning than that.”

  David laughed. “You don’t like the flowers?”

  “They’re horrible. Whoever arranged them has no training and the aesthetic sense of a five-year-old.”

  “That would be me. I bumped the vase when I was bringing my things in. A few flowers fell out. I put them back, but apparently not well enough.”

  “Oh, that explains it. Good. I’m not in the mood to fire anyone.” She linked arms with him and led the way into the living room. “Do you want something to drink? I’m exhausted. Blaine is helping the driver with the luggage. Sometimes your father is the oddest man.”

  She crossed to the antique buffet and opened the door on the right. “Scotch?” she asked, holding up the bottle.

  “Sure.”

  She collected three glasses, then poured. After handing David his, she crossed to one of the sofas and took a seat.

  This room was one of her favorites. Open and large, yet elegant, it had taken her nearly a year to get it right. But now everything was perfect. From the custom-mixed pale sage paint to the Italian silk she’d chosen for the draperies. Blaine had complained about the five-hundred-dollar-a-yard fabric, but she’d ignored him. Quality mattered. She wasn’t about to have any of their friends talking about their cutting corners.

  “So you’re back,” she said, then took a sip. “You said you were moving to L.A. Is that true?”

  “Yes.” He settled across from her. “I’m going to buy a house and settle here permanently.”

  While she wanted to believe him, he’d been living out of a suitcase for years. “You’ve never wanted to have a home base before.”

  “Dad and I have been talking about it for a couple of years. I can do more for the business in the office. I’m ready to take on the responsibility.”

  He sounded so serious and mature, she thought, telling herself to focus on what was good and would make her happy rather than on the fact that David and his father were annoyingly close. Blaine had ridiculous ideas about things that didn’t matter and a total disregard for one’s place in society. He was the most frustrating man. The last thing she wanted was his influencing David when her son had finally returned to the fold, so to speak.

  “I know several excellent real estate agents,” she said. “Have you picked an area? My schedule is fairly full, but I can move a few things around and go with you. No man should buy a house on his own.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. I promise not to buy any building that used to house a circus. Now, if I could find a former bordello, that would be interesting.”

  “Oh, David.”

  She knew he said those things just to upset her, but he could be so maddening.

  “The luggage is upstairs,” Blaine said, walking into the living room. “David. You made it.”

  David stood and approached his father. The two men greeted each other with a backslapping hug.

  They were both tall—an inch over six feet—with thick hair and blue eyes. Blaine’s hair had gone gray, which actually looked just as handsome as the blond. Elizabeth knew her friends envied her perfect family. They thought she had it all. If only that were true.

  She took another sip of the scotch and waited as the greeting continued with a stupidly complicated series of hand gestures and slaps.

  “I poured you a drink,” Elizabeth told her husband.

  “Excellent.” Blaine grabbed it and sat on a second sofa with David. “You think you can handle living in one place all the time? You ready for real life?”

  “I’m ready to know where I am when I wake up in the morning.”

  “Good. Good. What did you bring me?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “You’re not going to talk business now, are you? It’s late, and we’re all exhausted.”

  David grinned. “I won’t say a word except I found another designer.
”

  “As good as Rivalsa?” she asked. “Those designs are excellent.”

  “Close,” David said. “I’ll show you in the morning.”

  “You said Jayne was here when you arrived,” Elizabeth said, more to keep them from talking business than because she was interested.

  “Yes. It was a greeting full of pomp, but not so much on the circumstance.”

  “She’s a sensible girl. Smart.” Loyal, which Elizabeth valued more than intelligence. Jayne could always be counted on to do the right thing. She eyed her son. “If you won’t take me house hunting with you, then at least take Jayne.” Jayne would keep him from buying something horrid or inappropriate.

  “You’re buying a house?” Blaine asked. “Not something a man should do on his own.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Doesn’t Jayne have a life?” David asked.

  Elizabeth dismissed the idea with a flick of her fingers. “She has a job, but I’m sure she can rearrange her schedule. I’ll call her.” The best part of David’s taking Jayne along was that Elizabeth would know everything he was doing.

  “I can call her,” David said slowly. “You’ll be busy, getting settled.”

  So true. Running this house was a massive responsibility. There was also the matter of letting everyone know David was home.

  “I want to host a welcome-back party,” she said. “Nothing huge or formal. A brunch.”

  He shifted on the sofa. “Mother, that’s not really my thing.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s mine, which is why I’ll take care of it. Come on, David. Let us show you off to our friends. Blaine, don’t you want everyone to see how your son turned out?”

  Blaine smiled. “Of course. As long as there are a lot of pretty girls for him.”

  “What would a party be without pretty girls?” Elizabeth had been working on a list of appropriate women ever since David had said he was returning to Los Angeles. If she could just get him married to one of them and get her pregnant with her first grandchild, she would be able to relax.

  “I can get my own girl,” David said.

  “Your mother has excellent taste,” Blaine reminded him. “You might want to let her cull the herd, so to speak. It will save you time.”