But hadn’t there been something there, some spark with Annabelle that you’ve never felt with another woman?
Chemistry, yes. Amazing chemistry. But love?
No.
They’d had a good time last night. Yes, he’d fucked up by not closing the door tightly enough to talk to Tyler. He certainly hadn’t meant for her to overhear his conversation.
You hurt her feelings and didn’t even bother to try to make it right.
Yes, he’d been an asshole not to apologize right away. He’d walked away with her pin, thinking…What? What the hell had he been thinking?
He hadn’t been thinking. He’d simply decided to avoid the whole mess. He didn’t do drama. Life was too short and he had enough in his life already.
He started shaking his head and couldn’t stop. “Nana, if you want me to, I’ll gladly return the pin. She’s a very nice woman, but please don’t read any more into this than there is.”
“Oh, there’s already more here than meets the eye.” She nodded primly. “Tell me something. Was the pin the first thing you noticed about her?”
Jared could see where this was going. “No, Nana, it wasn’t. But…”
“But what?”
With a sigh, he walked to the window and placed one hand on the cold glass. It was freezing outside at almost two in the afternoon. So different from last night’s mild temperatures in the garden. And the warmth of the Salon. With Belle.
Which wasn’t her real name. In fact, he wasn’t sure who Belle really was. Her credit card was listed in the name of a business. He’d checked before coming here, knowing Nana would want to know who had found the pin.
Bullshit. You wanted to know who she was.
He wanted to tell his little inner voice, his conscience, to take a flying leap.
But he had to admit, there’d been something about Belle, something that drew him…
Silence surrounded him like a wet blanket, his grandmother’s displeasure nearly tangible as he felt the heat of her glare on his back.
“Alright, alright.” He spun from the window. “I admit I found her attractive before I noticed the pin. But, Nana, that doesn’t mean I’m going to marry the woman.”
Beatrice smiled as she lifted her hand, holding out the pin again. “Tell Belle I’d like to meet her. Have a nice day, dear.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I could stay, if you want. We could do some damage to a bottle of wine and a box of Double Stuf Oreos.”
Idling in her car outside Kate’s home in Adamstown on Sunday evening, Annabelle forced a smile and shook her head. “I’m fine, Kate. Really. I’m just tired. I’m going to take a hot bath, watch a little TV in bed, and probably fall asleep in ten minutes. Shopping all day wore me out.”
Yeah, right. Shopping. Sure.
Kate’s eyes narrowed and Annabelle began to silently beg her best friend not to push. They hadn’t spoken about what had happened, not since this morning when Annabelle had woken Kate and spilled the whole story.
How the only reason Jared had seduced her had been to get the pin.
Kate had been shocked, then furious. She’d wanted to tear Jared a new one. She wanted Annabelle to demand he give back the pin.
But Annabelle had only wanted to get the hell out. Humiliation burned like acid. She’d dealt with it before, and she knew the only cure was to shore up her defenses and she could only do that alone. Where no one could see her pain.
Pain was not for public consumption. The public twisted pain, consumed it like candy and left only ashes behind.
Finally, Kate sighed as she grabbed her overnight bag and shopping bags from their trip to the King of Prussia Mall. “Alright. I’m going. But I’ll be by to check on you tomorrow. And you will let me in.”
Kate’s fierce expression actually made Annabelle’s lips curve in a tiny, true smile. “I’ll be fine tomorrow. Just make sure you bring doughnuts.”
After a kiss and a hug, Kate reluctantly left the car, her expression worried. Annabelle drove home in silence and parked her car in front of the sturdy brick building that housed Elder Antiques.
Through the large front window of the first floor, she traced the controlled chaos of the store. The faint glow of the security lights outlined the larger furniture and display cases. She knew exactly what each case held and where to find every piece of inventory.
Her gaze then lifted to the second floor where she lived.
Home, sweet home.
For years after her parents’ deaths, she’d felt adrift, anchorless. She’d lived all over Europe during those first three years with her grandfather, never staying in one place more than four or five months. Then she’d moved to Gettysburg and a series of dorms and apartments at college. She’d felt safe there. Insulated.
Now, finally, she had a place to call home.
But no family to make it one.
Pushing out of the car and gathering her stuff, she made her way up the stairs at the side of the building to the private entrance to the second floor.
Once inside, she did a quick check to make sure nothing had been disturbed and that the security system had registered nothing out of the ordinary. Dumping her bags by the door, she headed straight for the kitchen and the bottle of red wine on the counter.
Glass in hand, she made her way to her bathroom and turned the taps to fill the old-fashioned claw-foot tub her grandfather had had restored for her. As it filled, she wandered back into her bedroom to gather underwear but found herself stopping to pick up the photo on her nightstand.
It was candid, not a studio shot. Three adults gathered around a child who could’ve played the lead in Annie without the curly red wig. The girl was blowing out eleven birthday candles on a homemade cake that leaned to one side.
Everyone was smiling. Happy.
She remembered later that night, she’d crept out of her bed in the loft to go to the bathroom and caught a glimpse of the adults continuing the party.
Which had reminded her very much of last night’s party.
Liquor flowing, couples, threesomes. Mom and Poppa on a bench by the wall, bodies entwined.
Daddy with his ever-present pad seated beside them, sketching, watching.
She remembered being transfixed by the sight, like a deer in the headlights. Not by her parents having sex. No, she’d been a fairly normal preteen and that was just too icky for her.
But her dad, the intensity in his eyes, the way his hands moved over the paper, the picture that slowly emerged from a series of lines and curves…That was amazing to her.
Her gaze lifted to the painting hanging on the wall. The one her dad had done from that sketch.
Only, instead of two people in the painting, there were three. He’d added himself.
It wasn’t nearly as explicit as most of his other work. And it was one of his only watercolors, so it was hazy, almost indistinct. Lovely.
Annabelle thought it was one of his best pieces. It was certainly her favorite.
Peter O’Malley had had an incredible talent. And an incredible capacity for love, which had included her mom and their lover, Poppa Danton.
Until a crazy woman had murdered the three of them in a jealous rage.
Leaving one Graceanna Belle O’Malley an orphan.
“So far, I got nothing. She’s either a ghost, Jed, or she’s got a lot to fucking hide.”
Dane tossed a manila folder on Jared’s desk the Tuesday after the party, then stood there looking pissed.
“I’ll be damned.” Jared picked up the folder and flipped it open to see exactly why Dane looked so furious. “Something you can’t do.”
Dane shot him the finger and started to pace. “It’s no skin off my ass if I can’t find her. And I’ve spent too much time on this already. I have paying customers.”