Finders Keepers (41 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Finders Keepers
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“Nothing but essentials. We'll pay off the servants, close up the house, and pretend we're leaving on an extended vacation. All I need for you to do is to remember your new name on your new passport.”
“Do you think Jessie will visit us in Argentina? You must be happy, Barnes, you've been planning this for so long now.”
“It's a good thing I did. Everything I said is starting to come to pass. Please hurry, Thea.”
“You didn't answer my question. When will Jessie visit us?”
“Ninety days. Three months,” Barnes lied, sweat beading on his brow. “You'll need every one of those ninety days to get things ready for Jessie. You do want it to be perfect and beautiful, don't you?”
“I think we'll do her room in blue and silver this time. Silver is pretty, don't you think, Barnes?” Thea asked dreamily. “We should buy her some nice jewelry, too. Maybe a new car.”
“Whatever you want, Thea. Don't forget your pills.”
“Is Jessie really going to visit us in Argentina?”
“Yes,” Barnes lied again as he ushered his wife into the house.
Thirty minutes passed before Barnes heard the feeble cry. He slipped twice on the marble floor, righted himself, his breathing harsh and ragged in his struggle to get to his wife.
“Thea! What happened?”
Thea, her face ashen, could only gasp and clutch her chest.
“Lie still, Thea. I'll call the doctor to send the ambulance. Don't try to talk.”
Thea's hands flapped in the air, her eyes rolling back in her head. “Give me the number, Barnes. Please,” she gasped.
Barnes stuffed a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket into his wife's hands.
The sound of the wailing siren sent tremors through his body. He should follow it, but first he had to think, to make some kind of plan. Argentina was out of the question for now.
What should he do? Should he forsake Thea and go off alone? He still had a good number of years left if he took care of himself. Thea, on the other hand, could die in a matter of hours or days. She could also recover and continue to live in her zombielike state for many more years.
Barnes closed his eyes as he roll-called his life.
Then he cried.
18
“The senator has no comment,” Alexis Kingsley said as she slammed the receiver back into the cradle so hard it bounced onto the table. She slammed it again. “We need to disconnect this phone and get an unlisted number. When are they going to give up? It's been three months!” Her angry voice turned gentle. “Did you take your pills this morning?”
“They'll never give up until the day I die, and I'm working on that. Go away, Alexis. Cut the damn wires, disconnect the phone, rip it out of the wall. Do whatever you want to do. It's none of your business if I took my pills or not. Why do you care anyway? Which brings me to my next question, why are you being so nice?”
Alexis sat down opposite her husband. “Your problem, Angus, is that you're upset because everything I said came to pass. I am truly sorry the twins left you to flounder. I know their disdain for you was devastating, especially as you are their father. However, they showed that side of themselves
before
you revoked their trust funds. They are bright, intelligent young people with solid educations behind them, thanks to you. They inherited their mother's farm and sold it for close to two million dollars. That gives them very nice nest eggs to start their lives.”
“I don't want to talk about this, Alexis. It's over and done with.”
“It's never going to be over and done with. If it was over and done with, why do those lawyers come out here every single day? Why do you look like death warmed over when they leave? What's going to happen? I have a right to know, Angus.”
“I'm going to die is what's going to happen. When I go, this mess goes with me.”
“Is there any way . . .”
Angus's voice was a cold bark. “No. You'll be fine, Alexis. The ranch will stay in the family. Resa and Tanner will be fine, too.”
“That's not what I was going to say. How can you talk to me like this, Angus? We don't even know where Resa is for God's sake. Tanner's wife is suing him for divorce. More papers came for him today. The boy is not fine.”
“He should have thought things through. He's like you, Alexis. All he wants to do is destroy all the good things that come his way, just the way you did and still do. You are both selfish and ungrateful. Jessie is a wonderful woman. I had hopes she could make something of our son. For all our differences, Alexis, I never, ever laid a hand on you. Why aren't you worried about
that
getting in the papers. Our son, the physical wife abuser.”
“I have to blame you for that, too. All those children you brought to the ranch were a bad influence on Tanner. Especially J.J. Tanner is still friends with that . . . that leech. I will never forget the year you brought his whole family here for two whole weeks. I lost count of the children they had. They were slovenly white trash, Angus, and it rubbed off on Tanner. I swear I think he thought that was what a family was supposed to be like. I couldn't do it all, Angus. I made mistakes, some worse than others but at least I tried. Did you ever offer to help me? No, you didn't. Irene and her family were your priorities. It's in the past, and we can't undo it.”
“If you believe that, then you are beyond hope. I agree that J.J. was an opportunist. The family was poor. God says we're supposed to help our fellow man. I'd do that over again, too, Alexis. I'm going to take a nap now, so leave me alone. Go back to your cage and don't interfere in Tanner's life. Let him handle his divorce on his own. It should be a simple one; Jessie doesn't want anything.”
“Go to hell, Angus, but take those pills first,” Alexis said as she left the bright, sunny room where her husband sat shivering underneath a plaid blanket. She cried all the way back to her room. Her husband was dying, and still he wouldn't say one kind word to her. Just one kind word. Was it too much to ask?
 
Jessie parked in the driveway behind the office, pressing the remote control to open the garage door at the same time she switched off the ignition. The dogs ran to her, pawing her legs for attention. In a daze, she petted them, urging them back into the garage. The heavy door dropped back into place with a loud thud. Her eyes glazed, Jessie looked around the room she'd spent so much time in the past three months as she dropped to her knees to cradle the dogs to her chest.
Sensing the change from her earlier mood, the dogs tried to climb into her lap as they struggled to lick her face. They were her lifeline now, and she clutched at them, holding them as tightly as she could. “It's not the worst thing in the world. The worst thing in the world would be finding out I'm pregnant without you two guys in my life. It's going to be okay. We'll be a family, just the four of us. A child needs a dog. Two dogs are even better. You'll look out for him or her, and I'll look out for all of us. I think we're going to have to move, though. Maybe a minifarm or someplace with lots of property so you can run. I don't want Tanner to know this time. I wonder if you understand anything I'm saying. It's okay if you don't. What's bothering me the most is telling Luke. I don't know why that is. We've become such good friends. Whatever will be, will be. I'm taking the view that God is giving me a second chance and maybe, just maybe, He means me to be a mother after all. The last time I was scared and unhappy. This time, this time . . . I feel like it's meant to be.”
Jessie's eyes wandered to the shelf above her worktable to the neat line of sculptures that were drying. They were good, even Luke said they were good, and each one was getting better, which to her meant the first ones were exercises. It didn't matter. She loved sculpting the miniature golden retrievers. Her gaze swiveled to the far corner of the garage, where a mound of clay sat under a wet towel. She was sculpting a life-size figure of Buzz to give Luke as a going-away present when he left for Penn State. It was the kind of conversation sculpture people set outside their front door so guests would oooh and aaah over it once they met the flesh-and-blood model.
Jessie rubbed the big dog's belly as her pup sniffed out the front corners of the garage. “It is what it is, girl. I'm not going over the edge like I did the last time. This time it's one day at a time. We aren't going to look back because, like Luke said, yesterday is gone. We don't know what tomorrow will bring. All we have is today and a lot more of them to come.” The golden dog woofed her approval.
Jessie dusted her hands dramatically. “I'm going to change my clothes and get to work. But first we have to call Mr. Gabriel Montoya in Milan and fire him.”
In the kitchen, Jessie placed a person-to-person call to Milan, Italy. She popped a cola while she waited for the call to go through. It was late with the time difference, but she knew from Arthur that Montoya rarely closed the gallery before midnight.
Jessie's hand trembled when she reached for the letter Montoya had sent a week ago. It was an ugly, demeaning, cruel letter. Would he have written the same letter if he had known she was the owner of the gallery? Probably.
“Mr. Montoya, this is Jessica Roland. Yes, the owner of the gallery. Yes, at the moment I reside in the United States. Yes, it was business as usual. The situation changed when your letter arrived several days ago. I'm sorry to say I don't agree with your decision not to hang the animal sketches in the gallery. As the owner of International Designs, my decision is the final decision. What that means, Mr. Montoya is this, you will mat and frame the pictures I sent you, and you will hang them immediately. If you can't see yourself doing this, I am prepared to accept your resignation, effective immediately. I found your letter to be unnecessarily cruel and very unprofessional. I can't help but wonder if the tone of your letter would have been different had you known the pictures were mine. They are mine, Mr. Montoya. Furthermore, they are not crude, nor are they amateurish. And yes, they do have a place in my gallery. It's obvious to me you are not an animal lover. I can accept that. What I cannot accept is your haughty attitude. When can I expect your resignation, Mr. Montoya?”
Jessie listened to the gallery manager's sputtering denials as he blamed his assistant Philip for everything. She interrupted him once to say, “I'm not interested in all this bullshit, Mr. Montoya. As the owner of International Designs I can do anything I please, and it pleases me to sever our relationship. If you want to bad-mouth me to your client base, do so. I will then sue you for slander. Put Philip on the phone. Now!
“Philip, this is Jessica Roland. I want you to escort Mr. Montoya from the gallery. As of tomorrow morning, you will operate the gallery. Your first order is to mat and frame the pictures I sent. Cluster them on one wall. Understand this. I do not care if anyone buys them or not. Put outrageous price tags on them. Whatever the traffic will bear. Mr. Montoya seems to think the sketches are childish, poorly drawn, and improper for your high-class clientele. Obviously, I don't agree. Miss Ashwood herself is the one who suggested these pictures hang in the gallery. Is there anything I've said that you don't understand? Fine. Mr. Mendenares will be in touch with you. Of course your salary will increase. It was nice speaking with you again, Philip. Good night.”
Jessie clapped her hands. She would know soon enough if Montoya was right or not. In the meantime she had other things to do and think about.
Pregnant. With Tanner's child. Motherhood. What was Luke going to say, and why was his opinion so important to her? As Scarlett said, I'll think about that tomorrow. Life is going to go on no matter what I think or say. The alternative doesn't bear thinking about.
“Okay, guys, time to go to work.”
Jessie watched the frisky pup as he bounded down the stairs and out to the garage. The big dog walked at her side, her tail swishing happily. In the garage, the pup sought out his basket of squeak toys, scattering them everywhere. The moment Jessie perched on her stool, the mother dog dropped to the floor, her head on her paws, her eyes on the pup who was frolicking from one corner of the garage to the other.
Jessie eyed the small collection of animals Sophie's housekeeper had forwarded. She'd lined them up next to the small animals she'd been making the past few months. Her first creations resembled her early-childhood endeavors. Each brought a memory of a time when life was happy for her and Sophie. Tears pricked her eyelids. She would never part with these small, endearing statues. She would save them for when her own child was ready to venture outside the parameters of storybooks and toys. If she became successful at what she was doing, perhaps one day it would become a mother-son/daughter business.
Jessie reached for a bag beagle Sophie had named Elroy. It brought a smile to her face as she let her fingers caress the little statue. One ear was crooked and one paw was shorter than the other three. All the more reason to love and treasure it. She wondered why she wasn't crying. Was it possible there were no more tears left in her? Was she finally moving beyond her grief, or was this just a stalling measure so she wouldn't have to read the mail containing Tanner's response to the divorce? Probably a little of both, she decided.
Get it over with. Open it and put it behind
you,
she thought.
Every curse she'd ever learned from Sophie spewed from her mouth when she read the papers saying Tanner was contesting the divorce. If he found out about the baby, what would it do to the divorce proceedings? Thank God she'd had the presence of mind to use Sophie's name when she'd had her checkup. It had all been so strange. When the nurse asked her name she'd rattled off Sophie's name without hesitation. That meant there was no record anywhere of Jessie Roland Kingsley having visited a doctor. What exactly did contesting a divorce mean? Did it mean she and Tanner had to agree on things, or did a judge make the final decision? She had to call Arthur. There was no way she could work or enjoy Luke's visit later on if this was hanging over her head. Her gaze dropped to the pile of crisp, crackly papers. Why did legal papers always crackle? It was such an ominous sound. She crunched the papers into a tight ball before she tossed it across the room. The frisky pup had it in his paws within seconds. When she looked at him again the papers were in shreds.
My address was on those papers
. In the blink of an eye, Jessie was off her stool and running to the garage door, where she yanked and pulled until the heavy mechanism that was an added security measure snapped it into place. She secured the internal locking mechanism, testing it. Satisfied, she slapped the wet towel over the clay she'd planned to work on. Now she had other things to do.
Jessie raced into the house and into the office, the dogs nipping at her heels, where she grappled with the phone as she tried to remember Arthur's number without having to look it up. The moment she heard his voice she started to babble incoherently.
“Jessie, Jessie, slow down. It's not the end of the world. We can handle this. I'll abide by whatever decision you make. I just want you to be cautious. Tanner has rights, Jessie. A father always has rights. He's also within his rights to contest the divorce. That doesn't mean he will prevail. It will be your word against his. I'm sure Mrs. Kingsley and Tanner will both offer supporting evidence about how they took care of you while you were ill. A doctor will no doubt agree with whatever they say. Once you enter Luke into the equation, it starts to get sticky. You need to know that. Yes, you can run, but you can't hide. Someone, somewhere, will always know where you are. You only have to think about Sophie to realize what I say is true. If you think going back to your family's home is your answer, then do it. Just be sure you're doing it for the right reasons. A child does need roots. So do you, Jessie. There's a place waiting for you. I just don't know where that place is, but I suspect before long you'll find it. I would be honored to be the child's godfather, but I think we're a little ahead of ourselves here. No one can come after you for using Sophie's name at the doctor's. That was rather astute of you, my dear. Sophie would have approved. Now, tell me, how are those wonderful dogs of yours doing?”

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