HowMuchYouWantToBet (15 page)

Gib took her hand and whispered in her ear, “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t take me from work to have a romp?” Neil was thinking of his last surprise.

Gib shook his head. “Woman, would you just close your eyes?”

With a frown, she did as he asked. He urged her through the door, took her carefully down the steps leading into the family room. With her eyes still closed she felt him move in front of her, then the soft brush of his lips.

She shivered from the want that exploded lethally inside her at the brief touch. Thinking more was to come, Neil was surprised when Gib only said, “Open them.”

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw her surprise. She blinked a few more times to make sure of what she was seeing. Anger slashed through her heart. Pictures of the past stared back at her mockingly. Not one, not just two, but all the paintings she had done in those unhappy three years sat in the room. The seascapes, the portraits, the inner musings—all she had done for her father’s credit were sitting in the room. Though tears stung her eyes, Neil held onto the anger, a tight hold that made her want to hit something.

“What have you done, Gib?”

Not noticing the anger in her voice, Gib replied, “I bought these paintings back for you. It took some time to find all the owners, but I did.”

Neil turned her gaze from him to the paintings. The lowest selling price, the first time around, had been somewhere in the thousands. These paintings had gone mostly to collectors who wanted not necessarily the painting but the name displayed in the corner. This was a debt she could never repay.

“Why?”

Gib finally sensed her turmoil and moved toward her, but Neil shook her head, stepping back. “I wanted to.”

He watched as her hazel eyes turned coldly toward him with his reply. She was only a foot from him, but Gib could feel her pulling away, going farther out of his reach, and he wasn’t sure how to get her back.

“Not everything is that simple. What do you expect me to do with these paintings? Hang them up on my wall?”

“I thought you would want to finally come out with the fact that it was you who painted these. I could pay someone to do testing to prove it was you and not your father.”

When she took another step back, it seemed so much farther. She was miles away from him, tears shimmering in her eyes, tears that, from the look on her face, she’d be damned to let fall.

“Not everything can be bought with money. I think that’s something you can never understand. It’s so easy for you—Neil, let me buy you this, don’t worry about it, I have plenty.”

His own anger began to blind him. “I did this for you, Neil. Money was simply the agent for me to do what was needed to get these paintings back for you. You act like it kills you to take someone’s kindness at face value.”

“I didn’t ask you to do this.” Her voice was strained and hoarse. It broke something inside him, but it was the anger that made him continue.

“You didn’t have to. When you told me about what your father made you do, I couldn’t bear it. You wanted this. You may not have thought it consciously, but you wanted to have these paintings back, or at least to have a chance to paint and create art again. This was more than just paying the bills—this was a passion for you.”

“How do you know? You’ve never done anything long enough to know what it feels like.”

The room fell into silence. Gib’s chest felt heavy, but he blamed anger as the reason for the deep ache. “Even after all this time, you
still
think of me as some playboy squandering Daddy’s money.”

Neil turned from him then. It hurt for him to breathe. “It’s not that.” She ran her hands through her hair. “You just don’t understand. I’ve put all this behind me now. I’m moving on. When I get the worksite manager position, I’ll have the life I want.”

“Is that the lie you’ve been telling yourself?”

Her gaze met his again, and somehow he knew Neil was going to end it. “Keep the paintings—you paid for them, so rightfully they’re yours—but I think, outside of building your house, we shouldn’t be together. I didn’t want things to be complicated between us. Something simple between associates—but this…” She indicated the paintings in the room. “It wasn’t for you to do this for me.”

“What was I supposed to do? Stand back while you wished and hoped that someone would stumble upon the truth and let the cat out of the bag for you?”

She shook her head. “I have to go back to work.”

She left him then, but it wasn’t until Gib heard the door close behind her that he realized the emotion that filled his brain and senses, the reason why he had done what he had done. He really loved her.

*****

Weeks passed by and Gib hadn’t come to the worksite. That was fine by Neil. The relationship had to end. There was no other way around it. The knowledge that she was what Gib stayed away from didn’t stop the hurt. He had moved out of the guest house the next day, taking the paintings with him, and headed for San Francisco. That she knew because Victoria continued to call and chat as if she didn’t know what had happened.

His mother’s last call had broken her, however, and Neil, much to her own shame, had cried. Dealing with Gib had made her the biggest crybaby in the world, another reason to despise him. Victoria had soothed her with words, telling her it was okay, but then had abruptly gotten off the phone.
Great
, Neil thought.
Now I’ve alienated the only woman friend I’ve got.
The next day, so unlike her, Neil called in to work sick and decided to mope. But before she could even start to enjoy the cliché of wearing a bathrobe all day and eating a whole container of Ben and Jerry’s Rocky Road, her doorbell rang.

Victoria, Linda, Barbara, Anna, and Janice stood on her doorstep. Neil chuckled when Victoria held up a gallon of Ben and Jerry’s. “Figured you’d need reinforcements.”

Neil took it from her and let them all in. “Might as well come in.” She silently added,
Thank you.
“I’ll go get some bowls.”

By the time Neil got back to the living room, they had made themselves comfortable on the couch. Victoria’s gaze was on the painting of the cabin over the fireplace. For the first time in a long time, Neil looked at it. The woods looked alive. She could almost smell the tang of pine in the air. She was the little girl in the rocking chair, curled up and asleep. How brisk the cold had been that day.

The picture had so much light to it—an ethereal glow seemed to fill every facet of the portrait. The painting had been a gift when she turned ten. She realized greed had been the only way her paintings had passed off as her father’s. Their use of shadows and light, their brush strokes, how they viewed the world through paint, so much had been completely different.

“You still love your father, even after what he made you do?”

She stared at Victoria, startled. “What’s the phrase? Daddy’s little girl? I would always love him.”

“It shouldn’t make you obligated to keep a promise like that,” Linda pointed out.

“He should have,” Barbara started, making her opinion known, “Wanted you to do what made you happy.”

Anna took the bowls from Neil and started putting the ice cream in as Neil settled across from them on the opposite couch.

“My father was a prideful man, and I think when he realized what I had done, he couldn’t take it. Not only could he not protect his wife and unborn child, but he couldn’t take care of himself and his remaining daughter. It hurt him in some profound way. I think that’s why he never painted again.”

“When you decided to pick up your life again, why did you go into construction?” Janice reached for the bowl Anna offered her.

Neil smiled. “It’s the same thing, at least the way I see it. Painting, you’re taking a blank canvas and you’re creating something out of nothing. A little paint and time, and you have something beautiful. Something that’s all yours and no one else’s. With a house, you have a blank canvas of land, and with tools, wood, and someone’s dream to live there someday, you create something beautiful there, too.”

“And you didn’t want the attention you’d get if you decided to paint,” Victoria said.

Neil’s eyes widened at the woman’s perception. “I guess that’s always how I felt, but I could never put it into words. That way I didn’t have to compete.” Neil took the next bowl from Anna. “With myself.”

“Men are stupid.” Linda didn’t add a disclaimer.

“My son included,” agreed Victoria. She added, “But some women are too scared to see what’s right there in front of them.”

Knowing she was being asked if she had broken up with Gib because of some fear, Neil answered honestly. “I don’t think he understands what it would mean if I tell the truth to the world, that I would be soiling my family name—and in public this time, not in private. The papers will have a field day when they find out. The little quiet life I’ve made for myself will be shot.”

“Did you ever think that by telling the truth you wouldn’t be shaming your parents but once again bringing pride to their name?” Barbara asked, before she stuffed her mouth full of Rocky Road.

The question stopped her cold. Neil had never thought of it like that. It was so easy to be ashamed of yourself in private, and sometimes the emotion could be blinding. They let her stew on the comment for a moment longer, and then Anna said, “Also, you would be doing something you love to do.”

Victoria shook her head. “Tiff showed me those god-awful pants you were wearing when you came to my store. Don’t be offended,” she interjected, hand raised to ward off any protest.

“Those jeans didn’t have regular house paint splatters on them. My grandmother used to paint, and you don’t paint houses with oils. Nor use potter’s clay to lay brick. It would take too long for them to dry. How long have you been painting secretly?”

Neil tilted her head, finding that she loved this woman just as much as she loved her son.

“Neil, you have two passions. Being an artist—and a lot of that spills over into the things you build for Linny’s construction company—and my son. Don’t give up either of them because of that stubborn pride of yours.”

“How often did Gib get caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do?”

“Every time. I can almost smell it when someone’s hiding something. Gib’s heart was in the right place when he bought up your paintings. I don’t think he thought it through.” Victoria paused. “Yes, he just didn’t think. I can only defend my son’s actions so far.”

“Your kid.” Linda snorted. “Mine not only doesn’t think, he gives himself away.”

“Mine tells on himself before I can pinpoint what’s wrong,” Janice added.

Anna sat on the floor with her own bowl of ice cream. “Here’s my take on this—you love Gib, you love painting. You can have both. No one is telling you that you can’t.” Anna continued before Neil could speak. “The only thing stopping you is your conscience.”

“I say,” Linda advised, “Tell it to shut the hell up, and be happy.”

“Hear, hear.” Janice raised her bowl.

Neil laughed through the hurt, knowing they were right. “I know his heart was in the right place.” She had just been too hurt to see it, and her pride hadn’t let her until now. “It was just that…”

Victoria held up her hand. “It’s not us you have to explain it to. I know you love my son, but you need to take time to figure out what you want to do. For him, everything is so clear. If he’s bored, he does something about it. If he’s excited about something, he tells everybody, because that’s who he is. I made him that way.” She shrugged, no apology in her voice.

Neil remembered when Victoria had told her that money was the means for Gib to do for those he loved. She’d forgotten.

Barbara sighed. “When will you be done with the house?”

“By the end of the week.” Her chest tightened with the thought. Going to his home had given her a connection to him. With that done, there would be nothing.

Victoria laid a kiss on Neil’s cheek, like a mother would do if her child was ailing. “You’ll figure out what to do. Since we’re here, do you want your blackjack lessons?”

Janice gasped. “You know how to play blackjack?”

“She’s Gib’s mother,” Linda said. “What do you think? We’ll be leaving here broke.”

Neil smiled, knowing this was Victoria’s attempt to get her mind off things, and she appreciated it. “I think we can avoid that if we play for Oreos.”

Anna looked down at her empty bowl. “I was on a diet, but what the heck.”

Neil turned to Janice and Barbara. “Sugar suicide,” Barbara said. “I’m so in.”

“Hear, hear,” Janice threw in.

Neil laughed at the woman, feeling better already.

Hours later, Neil locked up after the departing women. What she had to do had formed in her mind as she played hand after hand of blackjack, losing more often than she won. She had been given much-needed time to rest, and to think and plan. The roads she took in her life were never pretty, and the one she was choosing now was going to get ugly. Her solitude would be shot, but then she could begin to make things right in her life and eventually make thing right between herself and Gib.

*****

The phone on Gib’s desk buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts of Neil. He set aside the pile of résumés on his desk, conceding his mind wasn’t on the task he’d begun an hour ago. The interruption was a great relief. He answered the phone, only to be greeted by his mother’s frantic voice.

“Gib, turn on the news
now.
”

Phone crooked on his shoulder, he flipped on the television in the corner of the office. “What channel?” She told him, and he flipped faster through the channels. The remote shook in his hands when Neil’s face filled the screen. To her left stood Chez Arnold, his hand lying unobtrusively on her shoulder. Camera flashes and beams of light illuminated her face. Her shoulders were stiff, but her eyes were hard and determined. He didn’t have to hear the words to know she was telling the world what she had told him in private about her father. He cursed explicitly.

“Given the fact that I feel the same way, I won’t comment on your language.” He had forgotten his mother was still on the phone. “Did she tell you she was going to do this?” Gib’s throat tightened with each word.