The Jewels of Tessa Kent (20 page)

“You really are a collector, aren’t you? You missed your calling, you should have been an auctioneer,” she said, fending off the magnificence of the stones by mocking him. “Tell me, oh professor, what does the pendant weigh?”

“Almost fifty carats, give or take … actually forty-eight point nine five, since you ask, which incidentally isn’t considered the most elegant way to receive a gift from the heart.”

“And where am I going to wear an almost-fifty-carat emerald clip?” Tessa demanded, undaunted by his words.

“Wherever you like, on a belt, on a lapel, on a flannel nightshirt, even on your bikini—it sure do make a nice touch o’ color.”

“I couldn’t begin to!”

“Then don’t, just put them on for me. Here, do you want me to help you take them off? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Damn you!” She stepped quickly out of his reach. “Don’t you dare touch them.”

“I always say it’s astonishing how quickly a woman can get comfy with emeralds. It takes a lot longer for rubies. Some women never can make their peace with rubies.”

“You took advantage of me, and now you’re making fun!”

“Be a brave girl, pretend you’re married to a man whose ego can only be subdued when you wear some of the finest emeralds Harry Winston has sold in his career, or so he assured me, and I promise I won’t even smile sideways at you. Think you could do that? You’re an actress, you should be able to forget what you have on. And frankly, if I were you, I’d be a lot more self-conscious about letting my nipples show when I raise my arms.”

“They do not!”

“Wanna bet?”

Tessa raised her arms to adjust the thick chain of semicircular diamond links that held the emeralds around her neck. Her breasts rose inches out of the top of her dress. “Oh,” she breathed in disbelief, “no!”

“You won’t be able to dance in that dress,” Luke said regretfully.

“Wanna bet?”

“What would your mother say?”

“She’s just had three days in Paris, maybe she’s a changed woman. Maybe my father took her to the Lido or the Folies-Bergère. They’re supposed to have flown back this morning. I’ll make it a point to call her sometime this week and ask her if I need to confess a sin of immodesty that can’t possibly be my fault.”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault if I hadn’t warned you, but now that you know, if you dance in that dress it’s certainly a sin of immodesty, a major sin.”

“Stop splitting hairs. You’ve already ruined my character with emeralds and it hardly took a minute. Oh, Luke, should I be such an easy mark? I didn’t know I loved jewels until you gave me the ring. And now these … is there something wrong about feeling so … thrilled? So absolutely smitten with excitement and delight?”

“Are you asking me as your spiritual advisor?”

“There’s no one else around to consult.”

“You’re not kidding, are you darling? Underneath you really mean it, you really feel that there has to be something wrong with enjoying them, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” she said sheepishly. “Jewels must be the most purely materialistic enjoyment there is.”

“Feeling guilty about something that isn’t wrong is a waste of time. For more than four hundred years these stones have made women happy. Today it’s your turn. Now listen to me, I won’t—I will not allow it! It’s unreasonable. You’re not taking anything away from anybody. I bloody well want to feel free to give you jewels
and I don’t want to be deprived of that pleasure. But, if you’re really disturbed by it, I’ll stop. It’s your decision, but couldn’t you try, at least, to get used to it? For my sake?”

“I guess so,” Tessa said after a pause for reflection. “But there is something that would make it easier.”

“Just ask.”

“I feel so disoriented, light-headed, kind of wispy. It must be the shock. My arms feel much too bare, as if I might float away. Shouldn’t I be weighted down so that I feel as if my feet are touching the floor? I think what I need is a few, not too many, but still rather … heavy, yes heavy, even massive … bracelets?”

They were still sleeping the next morning when Luke woke to a repeated knock on the front door. Cursing under his breath, he recognized the voice of Len Jones, his second-in-command, whom he’d left in charge of the business. No one else in his empire knew where he was, a state of affairs that had taken many days to arrange. Len had been instructed not to disturb Him for any reason at all.

Sliding quickly out of bed, he left Tessa tucked under the quilt as he pulled on his robe and went to answer the door.

“Luke, I’m sorry, but I had to let you know—”

“Bloody hell, Len, whatever it is, couldn’t it have waited?”

“I’m terribly sorry, but no, it couldn’t have. It’s Tessa’s parents. It’s bad news, Luke, the worst. They were in a taxi on their way home from the airport … their taxi was sideswiped by one of those damn big tanker trucks. The driver and Tessa’s father were killed instantly, her mother’s still alive but she can’t last long … the people who are taking care of Tessa’s sister called me at the number you sent them …”

“Damn, damn, damn! Look, go back to the office in Monte and arrange for my plane to be ready to leave
from Nice in three hours. No, two and a half. I’ll get Tessa ready.”

“Do you want me to send a car to drive you?”

“Not necessary. You’d better come along to L.A. too. I’ll be busy arranging the funeral—funerals—so I’ll need you. There’s a list of wedding guests on my desk. Contact Tessa’s aunts and tell them what’s happened. Alert them to be ready to fly out to the coast, we’ll make the arrangements after we find out how Agnes is. And call Fiona and Mimi, Tessa will want them there. Take care of the press—as few details as possible. What else? Tessa’s agent and Roddy Fensterwald, call them. Ask them to keep it out of the news as long as possible. Take two large suites for us at the Beverly Hills Hotel, no, make that the Bel-Air, it’s harder for photographers to get into. Thanks, Len. Sorry to put all this on you, but Tessa’s my priority. I’ll see you at the plane.”

Slowly Luke walked back to the bedroom of the farmhouse. He sat on the side of the bed for a few minutes, unable to wake Tessa to the news. Everyone’s parents die, he thought, but not with such brutal suddenness, not at the end of their daughter’s wedding festivities. He prayed that Tessa’s deep sense of guilt, a guilt that he could understand in the context of a very Catholic upbringing, didn’t make her blame herself for having brought them to Europe. If only they’d returned with the others in the planes he’d chartered. If only her father hadn’t insisted at a look at the Paris he’d loved long ago. Luke lifted a strand of her heavy hair and rubbed it lightly between his fingers. Suddenly he understood why the Victorians wore brooches containing curls from the hair of their lost loved ones. He worshiped her, he admitted helplessly. He would give almost anything to spare her this, but not a day more of their life together than was necessary.

With the tip of a cautious finger, he caressed the back of her hand, hoping, at least, to wake her into a moment
of brief happiness before he had to tell her the news. “Tessa,” he whispered, “Tessa, Tessa darling, wake up. Wake up, my little sweetheart …”

“Can she speak?” Tessa asked the nurse as she approached the door of her mother’s room in the intensive-care unit of St. John’s Hospital. She’d insisted on Luke’s remaining in the waiting room, knowing that her mother wouldn’t want him to see her broken and dying.

“She’s said your name, from time to time, but that’s all.”

“Can you leave me alone with her?”

“Of course. Ring when you need me.”

Tessa pushed the door open and forced herself to approach the bed. Terror and pity brought her to her knees the instant she looked down at Agnes. Only a few strands of her mother’s hair, dark, curly, and still incongruously alive, identified her as the handsome woman she had been. Tessa was too deeply shocked to cry. Quickly she struggled up from the floor and sat in the chair by the hospital bed. It wouldn’t help her mother to see her kneeling as if by a grave.

“Mother, it’s Teresa. I’m here, Mother.”

Agnes’s eyelids, under the cast on her forehead, remained closed, but her lips moved slightly.

“Mother, can you hear me? It’s Teresa.”

“Teresa,” Agnes said in a dry whisper, “I’m dying.”

“No, Mother, no you’re not, you’ll get better …” Tessa’s voice trailed off at the expression of faint scorn with which her mother received her attempt at comfort.

“Listen, Teresa … important, don’t tell husband about Maggie … never … never … promise me … important … my pride … my life work … don’t ruin … worked so hard …”

“Mother, don’t worry, for God’s sake don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone anything, but don’t worry about Maggie. Luke will take care of everything, everyone. Maggie’s safe, I’m safe. Mother, I love you.”

“Proud of you … good girl … don’t spoil your life … I always loved you best … always …”

“Mother. Mother!” Tessa searched her mother’s face. The spark of life had suddenly but unquestionably blown out. She knelt and prayed at length for her mother’s soul. She looked up at the bed and saw that she could just reach the fingertips on her mother’s right hand where they protruded from the cast, the nails still bearing the discreet shade of soft pink she’d chosen for the wedding. Tessa clasped Agnes’s fingertips in one hand, closed her eyes, and held them tenderly.

“Always loved her best,” her mother’s last words … why did they surprise her, Tessa asked herself in desolation. Hadn’t her mother put her first for as long as she could remember? Believed in her, fought for her, planned for her? Used all her power to keep her from the consequences of her mistake? And how had Tessa repaid her mother? She’d been angry when she’d crept into school rehearsals, she’d deceived and mocked her with Mimi, she’d replaced her with Fiona, she’d taken her devotion for granted or scorned it as meddling—this woman who’d had such a tiny measure of love in her life.

Suddenly Tessa remembered how her mother had been barred from her first audition and how nastily superior she’d felt, entering that fateful room alone. Even that pleasure, a pleasure that would have meant so much to her mother, a pleasure she’d thoroughly earned, had been denied her. Painful tears, tears of shame, filled Tessa’s eyes as she took the meager measure of her mother’s life. Agnes had been a hard mother to love, she had a knack for saying the wrong thing in the wrong way, she’d never forgiven Tessa for getting into trouble when she was a teenager, yet nothing could change the fact that for years she’d been the chief joy of her mother’s life. Her mother had been as good a mother as she’d known how to be, as she’d been able to be, Tessa realized, sobbing for the young, hopeful Agnes Riley, who’d believed she was making a romantic marriage—sobbing
for herself and the understanding she’d reached too late.

Behind her she heard the steps of the nurse returning. Tessa rose to her feet.

“Oh, Miss Kent, she’s gone. I’m so very sorry. Was she able to recognize you before …?” the nurse asked, unable to repress her curiosity.

“Yes. She was … herself … until the end … herself, more than ever herself.”

I
s she—?” Luke asked as Tessa walked slowly into the waiting room.

“She’s gone. She recognized my voice, she said a few words, but then she … I watched her die … one second she was alive and the next she just … wasn’t … she was only thirty-eight … oh, Luke, I wish I’d been a better daughter, but it’s too late, too late now, too late forever.”

“Oh my darling, my Tessa, don’t say things like that,” Luke urged, pressing her tightly against his shoulder. “If you could have realized how proud she was of you, her eyes lit up when she looked at you, you made her happy. Nothing can make this accident worse than it is except thinking like that.”

Luke patted Tessa’s back as if she were a child who had fallen and hurt herself, but she made herself draw away from him, knowing that if she broke down again, she’d never gather up the courage to leave the circle of his comfort. In time she’d have to absorb the loss of her parents, but now she had an immediate duty, a responsibility that couldn’t wait.

“Luke, I have to tell Maggie. The Kellys promised
not to say a word until they heard from me. We should go there right now. Maggie is worried because her parents are late.”

“Do you think she has that precise a sense of time?”

“She’d made a little calendar before they left and crossed off each day. Mother told me that in Monte Carlo. Now Maggie knows that all the days have passed and they still haven’t come back. Oh, Lord in heaven, how—no,
what
am I going to tell her?”

“The truth, what else is there?”

“A five-year-old child? This was the first time they’d ever left her, they were her whole life …”

“There’s no way to get around it, darling. Maggie will never see them again, you’ll have to explain it clearly.”

“But how? Mommy and Daddy went to a wedding and then to Paris and then straight on to heaven? How could a little girl understand that?”

“You have to tell her about the accident.”

“I know.”

“I’d tell her for you, if I possibly could, but she’s never laid eyes on me.”