The Heiress (25 page)

“A
LL RIGHT
, here’s the setup for the next segment,” Grace’s son-in-law, Nick Everton, said as he led Grace and Amy Deveraux over to the living-room set on the soundstage for
At Home with Grace.

Nick regarded Grace with a mixture of affection and respect. “Grace, we’ll begin with the camera on you. You introduce Amy and talk about what an interior designer who specializes in redecorating actually does for a client, and then explain to her what you don’t like about how everything is arranged in this room. Amy will further analyze the design problems for the audience and then we’ll cut to commercial. Everybody got it?”

Grace, Amy and the crew nodded. Everyone took their places, the production assistant called, “Action!” and the tape began to roll. Feeling the purposeful, accomplished way she always did when she was working, Grace slipped into her role as show host as easily as a pair of old shoes. Not surprisingly, the segment went off without a hitch. So did the second—a cooking spot with a renowned Charleston, South Carolina, chef, and the third—a florist who demonstrated the proper arrangement of roses in a vase, as well as the final wrap-up of the day.

“Great job, everyone!” Nick smiled as he came up to give Grace and Amy congratulatory hugs. His hand
some face filled with pride, Nick grabbed the conservatively tailored jacket of his Brooks Brothers suit off the back of a set chair and slipped it on. Nick’s tall, fit form dwarfed both Amy and Grace. “Now we’ve got five shows in the can,” Nick told them with satisfaction. Beside him, the pregnant Amy beamed. Joy filled Grace as she realized she had never seen her youngest child looking as happy and content as she had since she had met and married Nick.

“How long before we can begin signing up the stations to run the program?” Grace asked cheerfully as she took off her microphone and handed it to the sound-man.

“We need at least ten—or a solid two weeks of shows—to sell the program,” Nick said. “And then once we get twenty-five stations to air it, we’ll set a debut and begin the publicity. In the meantime, we’ll keep filming so we have as many shows ready to air as possible. I want to be able to go at least six months without repeating one segment. And even then, the repeated shows will be few and far between. The key to a program like this is staying current, giving the viewer something fresh and interesting every time they switch on the program.”

“I agree.” Grace smiled.

Beside Grace, Amy tensed.

“What is it?” Grace turned in time to see Daisy walk in. She had a portfolio under her arm, a camera bag slung around her neck, another looped over her shoulder and a determined look on her face.

“I didn’t know you were interviewing for the show-photographer job today,” Nick said in surprise.

Her stomach twisting the way it always did when she saw her ex-husband’s love child, Grace did her best to
maintain her outer serenity. “I didn’t have anything set up,” Grace told her daughter and son-in-law coolly. In fact, they hadn’t yet even advertised the position.

“I told Daisy you were looking for someone, Mom,” Amy said uneasily. “At the time, I thought maybe it would be a good idea for both of you…now that we know. Well, I’m sure you—” Amy cast a look over her shoulder and noticed that several crew members were within earshot “—know what I mean,” Amy finished lamely, after a moment.

Grace did. And now that she’d had a second to absorb what was going on, she wasn’t at all surprised. Amy was not just the baby of the family, she was the child who had always wanted most for Grace and Tom to put aside their differences and reconcile. To the point that during the fifteen years Grace and Tom had lived apart, the thirteen years they had actually been divorced, Amy never missed an opportunity to lobby for peace and reconciliation between her parents.

For years, of course, Amy hadn’t known exactly what the problem was, nor had her three brothers, their new spouses or even Daisy herself. But now the secret was out, and it was clear how Daisy wanted Grace to handle the situation.

“I heard you’re looking for a photographer,” Daisy said, looking straight at Grace, as if there was no reason the two of them shouldn’t work together. “I’m here to apply for the job.”

“I think it would be best if we did this by appointment,” Nick said in an effort to ward off any kind of personal confrontation between the two women in front of the show staff.

“Nonsense,” Grace countered cordially, drawing on all her strength to remain every inch the true profes
sional no matter what. Nevertheless, she could feel the blood moving from her chest up her neck. “I’ll talk to Daisy right now. Let’s go in my dressing room, dear, shall we?”

Aware her cheeks were unnaturally warm—and hence, probably pink—but unable to do anything about it, Grace led the way to her dressing room. She ushered Daisy inside then shut the door behind them and turned on some soothing classical music as background noise, to ensure nothing said between the two would carry into the hallway.

Daisy set down her portfolio and looked around admiringly. For once she was dressed somewhat conservatively, in a plain black tank-dress that fell to just above her ankles and thick wedged sandals. Her wavy blond hair was arranged in a loose French twist and held away from her face in a butterfly clip. She had discreet diamond studs in her ears and a hopeful look on her face. “Gosh, this is nice,” Daisy said.

Feeling as if her entire body was stiff as a board, Grace nodded. She and Daisy were in agreement on Grace’s dressing area. It was a large room, with makeup table and mirror, desk, sofa and Grace’s stair machine, which she used every morning before makeup. It also had a private bathroom and a closet for Grace’s own clothes. Her son-in-law had gone all out to make her as comfortable as possible, which was just one of the reasons that Grace had chosen to work with Nick rather than with the many other network and cable producers who were clamoring to have her star in one of their shows. The other reasons for choosing Nick had to do with the quality programs and level of success Nick was famous for. He knew when to cut corners and when
not, and most of all, he was interested in the long, not the short, view.

Grace had suffered too much turmoil in her life thus far. She wanted something solid, that would last. She wanted this, her first solo TV show, to be something she could be proud of.

“I work with digital and traditional 35mm cameras,” Daisy began as she sat down on the sofa and eagerly opened her portfolio. “I know how to upload photos onto the Internet and can perfect the digital photos on the computer. So if you want a picture larger or smaller, I can do that.”

Grace held up a staying hand before Daisy could turn over her portfolio. Ignoring the crushed expression on Daisy’s face, Grace said as gently as she could, “None of which is really relevant, Daisy.” Deciding it was best to be as forthright as possible, Grace perched on the edge of her padded vanity stool and looked Daisy straight in the eye and continued, “I know you’re very talented. That you’ve done work for Chase’s magazine, that you’ve photographed properties for Mitch’s wife, Lauren’s, real estate business. You’ve helped Amy with her newspaper ads by photographing her redecorating jobs. And you recently had a cover shot on
Charleston Magazine.
But you also remind me, through no fault of your own, of something I’d like very much to forget.”

It was Daisy’s turn to flush. “That’s not my fault,” Daisy retorted quietly, looking younger than ever. “I didn’t choose to come into the world the way I did.”

Grace swallowed around the tight knot of emotion in her throat, aware she was doing as much to crush Daisy’s innocence right now as Tom and Iris already had. Aware she had never felt so mean as she did at that very moment, Grace returned quietly, “It doesn’t
change the facts of your birth, Daisy, or what happened to precipitate it.”
It doesn’t change the way I feel. And right now, whether you or anyone else likes it or not, I have to be concerned about that.

“So, in other words, you’re going to blame me for what my birth parents have done,” Daisy accused, getting to her feet.

Grace had been in Daisy’s position once—full of talent, but ridiculously short of experience—and she hated dashing Daisy’s hopes this way, but she felt she had to be scrupulously honest, for everyone’s sake. “I’m sorry, Daisy. Seeing you upsets me.” Grace lifted her hands helplessly, shrugged. “I wish that were different. I wish it could change, but I don’t think it can.”

J
ACK HAD ALWAYS HAD
a problem leaving the office at seven or even eight in the evening. There was always so much more to be done, problems to be solved, contracts to be negotiated, new business to ensure, which was absolutely the way Tom and Mitch Deveraux wanted it. Now, with the merger between Deveraux Shipping Company and Heyward Shipping Company well under way, he had the additional responsibilities of enforcing the agreed-upon firewall that protected both companies during the interim period.

But, for the first time, he couldn’t seem to think about his job more than the prescribed eight to ten hours a day. Instead, once the clock hit five his attention turned to Daisy.

He wondered what she was doing. How her day had gone. Was she feeling okay? Had she really gone over to see Grace Deveraux at the soundstage where she knew Grace was filming her new television show? And if so, what had Grace Deveraux’s reaction been?

Jack tried calling Daisy at home, but there was no answer. So he packed up his briefcase and headed out into rush-hour traffic.

It was 6:00 p.m. when he reached the three-mile stretch of beach where he and Chase and Gabe Deveraux all owned homes. Daisy’s car was in the driveway. Trying not to think how much it cheered him to see she was already home, he parked behind her car and headed inside.

The moment he was through the portal his happiness faded abruptly.

She was seated at his desk in the study, phone held between her shoulder and ear, using both hands to rifle through the drawers. His personal and business papers were spread out willy-nilly over his desk. As were paper clips, legal pads, several pens, scissors, a ruler, markers, a cut-out section of the city’s social calendar of upcoming events from the
Charleston Herald,
as well as a homemade calendar for the rest of that month.

“No, that sounds great.” She barely glanced up when she saw him. “Right. I’ll be there. Promise. Okay. See you later.” She hung up.

Jack didn’t know whether to be glad she was so obviously back in the saddle, as far as her work was concerned, or peeved that she had gone through his stuff.

Daisy went back to scribbling on the notepad in front of her and paused to highlight something in the newspaper column in bright pink. “You’re home early,” she said as she wadded up the parts of the newspaper she didn’t need and tossed them into the trash can in the corner.

Jack sauntered in and put his own briefcase down on the edge of his desk, any hopes he’d had of a kiss or hug or smile hello disappearing like the sun behind a
cloud. He tried to read what she was writing, but her penmanship was so messy it was impossible to decipher upside down. “What are you doing?” he asked casually, trying not to feel irritated that she had commandeered his home office without asking.

“Working,” she said in a crisp, businesslike tone that hinted he should simply go away and leave her alone.

“That’s good.”
I guess.
Jack didn’t want her to overdo it, but he also recognized Daisy needed to do something to pull herself out of the funk she had been in since the miscarriage. And if her taking pictures again was the solution, Jack was all for it. Especially since he knew his work had helped him put the sadness over the loss of their baby aside, and move forward.

His gut tightening with the depth of his unease, he hazarded a glance behind her to see if she had gotten into the large file cabinets, the ones she shouldn’t, under any conditions, see. And realized with mounting relief that she apparently hadn’t. “How’d you get the desk drawers open?” he asked, as if he didn’t mind her presumptuousness at all, when he absolutely did.

Daisy shrugged and glanced up. “I figured there had to be an extra set of keys around here somewhere.” Daisy picked up her notes, folded them in half and slid them into a black leather day planner that looked brand new. She snapped the clasp shut and tucked the planner back into the fringed buckskin carryall she used as a purse. “I was right, of course, although it took me a while to find them.” She gathered up her pens, the newspaper clippings and one of the legal pads. The other one she put back in his desk, in a different drawer than where it had come from, Jack noted, even more irked. “Why did you put them in your sock drawer?”

“Because it seemed logical.” And he hadn’t expected anyone else to go there to find them. Unable to help himself, Jack picked up his checkbook and file of monthly bills and stacked them neatly on one side of his desk.

“Say…” Daisy opened the bottom desk drawer and began flipping through the contents of that, too. “You don’t by chance happen to have any of those little sheets of business cards that you can run off on your desktop computer, do you?”

Jack shook his head. “No. All my cards are printed at the supplier we use at work.”

“Darn.” Daisy lifted the legal pad and gathered up fifty or so loose business cards, with her brother Connor’s street address and her cell phone number. “I guess I’ll just have to use these tonight.”

Although he could have used a lot warmer welcome for himself, Jack was pleased to see her looking so enthusiastic about something. “What’s happening tonight?” he asked curiously.

Daisy stood. “I got a job at the Protect the Children charity fund-raiser.”

Jack watched her stuff the rest of her belongings into a worn black canvas carryall. “That’s the one for abused kids.”

“Yep. A lot of people attend and the organizers have agreed to let me set up shop in an adjacent area to take pictures of some of the guests. It’ll be about as challenging as taking prom photos, but at least I’ll get paid for my time and have the opportunity to hand out business cards to anyone who might want them.”