The Best of Friends Read online

  “You do know how to have fun.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  They moved toward the house. On the path to the front door, she stopped.

  “About Rebecca, and the necklace…”

  He grabbed her free hand and held it in his. “I get it, Jayne. I know why you did it, I know why she took the fall, and I know why you’ve kept it a secret all these years. I get it.”

  It was a perfect moment, she thought hazily. With the sun shining down and the ocean in the distance. There was a light breeze. When she was eighty, she would remember everything about the first time David Worden held her hand. She would bore her roommate at the nursing home as she told the story over and over again.

  He was nothing like she’d thought—mostly because she’d never imagined him as a real person. He’d been a fantasy. The good news was that reality was even better than her best fantasy. The bad news was, getting over her crush now would be practically impossible.

  Elizabeth moved through the crowd in the solarium. Ten years ago she’d insisted it be added. The slate flooring and elegant pillars made it seem more like an extension of the house rather than an outdoor space. The weather in Beverly Hills meant they could use it nearly ten months out of the year. There were built-in heaters, fans and air-conditioning vents, room for two hundred standing and seventy-five seated.

  Blaine had balked at the expense, but she’d insisted, and eventually he’d admitted she’d been right. As she usually was.

  Now she greeted her guests and chatted with them, all the while keeping her eye on David. Her handsome son stood in the middle of a group of women, making them laugh at whatever he was saying. He was very much in demand. She’d been fielding phone calls from anxious mothers ever since the invitations had gone out for the brunch.

  According to her master list, there were nine single women at the party. Two lawyers, one medical student, one pediatric resident, two models, a teacher, a social worker and—she wrinkled her nose—an actress. The latter had been a mistake, but she hadn’t realized Tiffany had left college until a few minutes ago when she’d talked to her mother. The models were questionable enough, but an actress? Not in her family. She would wait to see if David showed any interest before getting involved.

  She returned to the kitchen for a last-minute check of the food, then spotted Jayne and called to her.

  Jayne spoke to one of the servers before walking over to join Elizabeth.

  “The champagne is at the right temperature,” Jayne said. “The shrimp quesadillas aren’t moving at all. I think it’s the presentation. They’re difficult to pick up. I asked the caterer to put them on those tiny plates. It’s more work, but otherwise, people won’t eat them.”

  “Excellent.” Elizabeth didn’t mind paying for expensive food, but she loathed having too much left over. It wasn’t as if she and Blaine would eat it, and Jayne could be counted on to take only a few containers home.

  “The Jacksons are fighting,” Jayne continued. “I think he’s drunk already. I’ve moved them to the table by the fan. They’ll be harder to hear there. But I was wondering… did you want me to separate them completely?”

  “Yes. That’s a good idea. Why she doesn’t just leave him, I’ll never know.”

  “I think it has something to do with the ‘B’ word.” Jayne said with a grin. “Billions and billions. With her prenup, she won’t get much.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “A word to the wise, Jayne. Never sign a prenup unless you have the money.”

  “Not really an issue for me, although I do appreciate the advice.”

  Elizabeth patted her upper arm. “You’re a lovely girl, and you’ll find someone. I’m sure of it. Blaine mentioned something about hiring a new accounting firm. I could ask if he knows of any single young men for you.”

  “I’m single,” David said, coming up. “Who’s looking?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “No one interested in you.”

  “How is that possible?” he asked. “Have you met me?”

  “Yes,” she said, wishing he was still small enough that she could hug him and have him sit on her lap. Most women couldn’t wait for their children to grow up, but she’d loved David’s being small. Those had been the best years of her life. “Now tell me about those lovely women I saw you talking to. Melissa is very pretty, although that laugh… I’m not sure I could stand it.”

  David kissed her forehead. “Lucky for us, she’s not interested in you.”

  “I’ll go make sure the tables are set,” Jayne said. “Excuse me.”

  Elizabeth watched her go. “I don’t know what I’d do without her,” she said. “Jayne is always so capable and smart. She takes care of things.”

  “Do you pay her?” David asked.

  “What? Pay Jayne? What on earth for?”

  “Isn’t she your assistant?”

  “She helps me. There’s a difference. She’s practically part of the family.”

  “So I’ve heard. But what does she get out of the arrangement?”

  She dismissed the question. “We have a history with Jayne. You were gone for much of it, but she’s been close to us for years. She moved in after her mother died. We’ve been very generous to her. We paid for most of her college.”

  A four-year college that Blaine had insisted on, Elizabeth thought grimly. She’d felt that community college was enough, but Blaine said Jayne was to get a four-year degree. At least she’d been practical. Nursing might not be glamorous, but she would always be able to make a living.

  “What do you think of Tiffany?” she asked.

  “Not my type.”

  Pleasure made her smile. “I didn’t think so, either. But have you met Tara? She’s a lawyer. Very pretty. I’ll introduce you.”

  Jayne passed by the tables. As they’d been set up since the previous afternoon, there wasn’t much to check. The caterers had worked Elizabeth’s parties before and knew what to do. She went by the three bars and made sure they had plenty of supplies, then ordered a club soda for herself and headed back to the kitchen.

  “You look busy,” Blaine said, stepping into her path.

  She smiled at him, then raised herself on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Welcome back. I heard the French have a problem with fog.”

  He chuckled. “Only in Elizabeth’s eyes.”

  “How was Paris?”

  “Familiar.” He pointed to her cast. “How are you? Should you be here, working?”

  “I’m scrutinizing appetizers and checking out the champagne. It’s hardly work. I’m fine.”

  “I like the cast. Very bright.”

  “It’s a fashion statement.”

  Blaine had always been kind to Jayne. He was traditionally aloof, keeping long hours at his office and disappearing into his study after dinner. After her mother had died and Jayne had moved into the house, she’d kept her distance from Blaine, partly because she didn’t know him and partly because she hoped he wouldn’t notice she was around. She’d been a little afraid he might spot her and ask her to leave.

  One Sunday afternoon when everyone else had been gone, Blaine had seen her skulking down the stairs and invited her to play chess with him. She knew the basics, but little else. He’d been patient as she stumbled through the game. The next Sunday, the same thing had happened. Over time, their weekly afternoon session had become a tradition.

  Blaine had been the one who’d encouraged her to think about college and her future. He’d read her English term papers and offered suggestions. And when she’d graduated from college, he’d quietly given her a check that had covered the down payment on her small condo. While they’d never discussed it, she had a feeling that Elizabeth didn’t know about that particular gift.

  “Oh, Jayne. That looks painful.”

  They were joined by Marjorie Danes, a middle-aged widow who had been an acquaintance of the family for years. Elizabeth had never liked her, claiming Marjorie lacked style, imagination, and anything close to a brain, but Jayne
had always thought she was kind and generous. Unfortunately for Elizabeth, snubbing Marjorie wasn’t an option. She’d gained her fortune the old-fashioned way, inheriting it along with everything her very rich husband had left her. She might not be the center of the Beverly Hills social scene, but her name meant something, as did her presence.

  “I fell,” Jayne said, holding up the cast. “Apparently, I’m breakable.”

  “We all are, and it only gets worse as one gets older.” Marjorie smiled at Blaine. “How are things in the jewelry business? Smuggle in any fabulous jewels lately?”

  “I leave the smuggling to others.”

  “You should ask me to smuggle for you. Ever since I turned fifty, I’ve become completely harmless. I pass through customs without anyone even noticing. Total strangers offer to help me with my shopping bags, as if I’m too feeble to manage on my own.” She touched her graying light brown hair. “I think I look like everyone’s grandmother.”

  “That’s not true,” Jayne said quickly, although the truth was Marjorie cared a lot more about comfort than fashion. Not that Jayne blamed her, but in the world of the superrich, it was an unusual trait.

  Marjorie might be aging gracefully, but she was still aging, with lines around her eyes and mouth and a faint but noticeable sag to her neck. In a community where every woman over the age of thirty had had a little something done, Marjorie stood out. Jayne was sure her tweed jacket had cost plenty, but it wasn’t new or particularly stylish, and her handbag looked like something the queen might carry.

  “A very beautiful grandmother,” Blaine said gallantly.

  What Jayne wanted to tell her was that she was the most approachable person in the room, but she wasn’t sure Marjorie would take that as a compliment.

  “If only that were true,” Marjorie said. “I prefer to think I wear my beauty on the inside. It’s much cheaper that way—I don’t have to spend nearly as much on night cream.”

  Jayne laughed, but before she could speak, there was a strange sound from inside the house.

  She turned and saw through to the living room, where a very late guest entered. Make that two guests. Then Jayne recognized the couple and went absolutely still.

  Her mind raced in a thousand directions at once. Even as she told herself this wasn’t happening, she knew it was. There was Rebecca, crashing Elizabeth’s carefully crafted welcome-home party for her son. Worse—so much worse—was Rebecca’s escort. Jonathan Mooney, Elizabeth’s former lover.

  Six

  JAYNE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT to do. Running away seemed the best option, but there were nearly sixty well-dressed people between her and the front door.

  She searched the crowd and saw Elizabeth standing by one of the pillars. She’d gone completely white, although Jayne didn’t know if that was from the shock of seeing Rebecca after all this time or the shock of seeing her daughter with her own ex-lover.

  “What’s going on?” Blaine asked, then followed her gaze and spotted Rebecca.

  “Look at that,” he said, sounding pleased. “My baby girl is home.”

  He headed for the couple, Marjorie trailing after him. David joined Jayne.

  “From the look on your face, you didn’t know she was showing up,” he said.

  “I haven’t talked to her in days.” She watched Blaine hug and kiss Rebecca, then shake hands with Jonathan.

  “So that’s the old guy Rebecca’s seeing,” David said, grabbing a handful of appetizers from a passing server. “I guess he’s okay, although his kids must be her age. Am I the only one who thinks that’s weird?”

  Jayne stared at him. “That’s not the biggest problem,” she said before she could stop herself, then glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot.

  “Tell me.”

  “No. I can’t. It’s…” She shook her head. “Elizabeth is going to have a heart attack. Do you think people have noticed?”

  “The prodigal daughter returning during my welcome-home party? They’re going to notice, but don’t sweat it. Entertainment always makes these things better.” He looked from Rebecca to Jonathan to Elizabeth, then frowned.

  “No way,” he said. “Are you telling me my mother and that guy had an affair?”

  “Shh.” Jayne waved her right hand at him. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. No one can know.”

  “Does Rebecca know?”

  “Of course. I’m sure that’s most of Jonathan’s appeal.” Rebecca dating Jonathan? Talk about a nightmare.

  “I’ve never understood the female experience, but isn’t there an unwritten rule about not sleeping with the same guy as your mother?”

  “You’d think so,” Jayne said, glancing around at the guests. Most of them had gone back to talking to each other and were paying less attention to Rebecca’s entrance. A few hearty souls had actually gone over and were speaking with her. “Not to mention the giant ick factor.”

  “Dad doesn’t know, right?” David asked.

  “I don’t think so. I like Blaine. I’d never want to hurt him.”

  “Me, either.” He finished his appetizers. “I’m going in,” he said. “Wish me luck. And remember—we never leave bodies of the fallen behind, so no matter what, you have to come get me.”

  She didn’t know if she should laugh or run screaming from the room. “You’re possibly the strangest person on the planet.”

  “You’re not the first one to tell me that.”

  He walked toward his sister. Jayne hovered for a second, not sure what to do, then went over to stand by Elizabeth.

  “So she’s back,” the other woman said.

  “Apparently.”

  “You didn’t know—I could tell by the look on your face.”

  Jayne ignored the flicker of guilt. Technically, she knew that Rebecca was back in town, but she hadn’t had a hint about her showing up at the party. Talk about a ballsy move.

  “We’re going to be eating soon,” Elizabeth said. “Naturally I don’t have a place setting for them. I’ll have to do some fast rearranging and figure out who would be safe next to her. And what she’s doing with Jonathan…” Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I suppose that’s the least of my problems.”

  “I can take care of the seating arrangements.”

  “No, I’ll do it. Just please keep my daughter from ruining this any more than she already has.”

  Jayne nodded. Acting as go-between was a familiar role. She’d done it until the day Rebecca had left, taking messages between the women, trying to keep peace and to point out that while they didn’t seem to get along, they were still family. None of which ever made any difference.

  Jayne moved toward the crowd that had gathered around the couple. Rebecca looked stunning in a fitted dress and high heels, both in pale blue. Jayne knew she should probably be able to place the designer, but unless there were obvious signs, she usually got it wrong.

  David and Blaine were talking to Jonathan, while Rebecca was surrounded by several of her mother’s friends. As Jayne approached, Rebecca gave her an impish smile, then excused herself from the women.

  “Jayne,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “What a surprise to see you here. Oh, I suppose it’s not a surprise after all. You would be needed to help things run smoothly. Whatever would my mother do without you?”

  “Are you insane?” Jayne asked in a low voice. “Bringing him here?”

  Rebecca laughed. “It’s delicious. You have to admit I know how to make an entrance.” She signaled a passing server and took two glasses of champagne from the tray. She handed the second one to Jayne.

  Jayne took it, then leaned in closer. “He slept with your mother.”

  “I know. That makes it so much better.”

  Jonathan joined them. Rebecca leaned into him. “Jonathan, this is my friend Jayne.”

  “We’ve met,” Jayne said, then desperately wished she could call back the words. “Years ago. I’m sure you don’t remember. You were…” Sleeping with Elizabeth? Scratch that. “We w
ere just teenagers and not of much interest.”

  Rebecca looked at her quizzically. “Nearly finished?”

  “God, I hope so.”

  “Nice to meet you again, Jayne,” Jonathan said, shaking her hand. “Nice cast. What happened?”

  “I thought I had superhuman powers.”

  “You don’t?” David walked up and put his hand on the small of her back. “Damn. Someone somewhere has to have them, and I’m going to find that person.” He glanced at Rebecca. “Nice entrance. Very smooth and low key.”

  “Thanks. That’s exactly what I was going for.”

  Jayne was glad they were talking, because she wasn’t up for speech. Not while she could feel every cell of his skin touching hers. Well, touching through a couple of layers of fabric. Still, it was thrilling.

  “You’re staying for brunch, aren’t you?” he asked Rebecca. “Mom arranged to have every single appropriate female in a fifty-mile radius brought here. There’s going to be a talent competition later.”

  “Who would want to miss that?” Rebecca asked.

  Oh, right. The other women. Some of the thrill left, and Jayne casually stepped to the right. David’s hand fell away. No matter how she wanted things to be different, the truth was David would never be interested in someone like her. The young prince had a destiny. He would marry the “right kind of girl.” Someone from a wealthy family, someone with social status and a closet full of designer handbags.

  Rebecca looked at Jayne. “She wants you to keep me in line, doesn’t she?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Are we taking odds?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll be merciful and behave.”

  Rebecca tossed her blond hair and laughed. “You’ve always had a delicious sense of humor, Jayne. It’s one of your best qualities.”

  Rebecca’s work space was little more than two hundred square feet in an industrial building. There were all kinds of artists working on different projects, but in her section were the jewelry designers. While she had her own tools for setting stones and finishing her pieces, she didn’t like working in the condo. Something wasn’t right. Maybe the feng shui was off or the view was too good. Maybe it was the silence. In Italy, she worked with other jewelers, so she was used to the conversations, the sound of grinding and polishing. Regardless, the second she sat down on the beat-up stool in her workspace and flipped on the intense light that flooded her battered desk, she felt wildly creative.