The Sapphire Pendant (50 page)

“You’re not the first man she’s used.”

“She’s not using me. I’m the one in control.”

“You think?” Nathan dug in his pocket and pulled out a pair of diamond cufflinks.

Rodney reached for them. “What are you doing with those?”
 

Nathan closed his palm. “They look familiar?”

“Yes, they’re mine and you know it. She gave them to me.”

“She gave you a pair, but not these ones.” He glanced down at them. “These are mine. And I carry them around to remind me not to think with the wrong organ.” He shoved them back in his pocket and looked at him. “She doesn’t care about you. She doesn’t care about anyone. You may be clever when it comes to computers, but when it comes to women you’re just like the rest of us.”

Rodney looked away.

“It’s not your fault. She’s very good. If you want to protect her, that’s fine. That’s your choice, but I don’t think she’s worth it. So I suggest you tell me all that you two have been up or I’ll make sure you go down with her.”

Rodney’s lip twisted into a cynical grin. “You wouldn’t.”

Nathan clasped the back of Rodney’s neck in a grip that made him wince and pushed his face close. “Right now little brother, I’m capable of things you couldn’t even imagine. Now what’s your move?”

Rodney swallowed, feeling a trickle of sweat slide down his face. Even if he told the truth, Brooke would come out clean. He’d done all the stealing, not her. It was his word against hers. He thought about the diamond cufflinks in Nathan’s pocket then briefly shut his eyes, feeling like a fool. “All right.”

Nathan nodded and folded his arms. “Go ahead.”

“If you want to know everything, I guess I should start with Stephanie…”

* * *

Brooke fell on her bed and laughed aloud. Kenneth’s reputation was destroyed! The newspaper tactic couldn’t have been more perfect. After she’d read the article she knew it was the perfect time to reveal the thief—why not kick a man when he’s down and feeling betrayed?— and she’d been right. Nathan and Kenneth would soon be out of the picture completely.
 

Now she just needed to deal with Jessie Clifton and her meddling sisters. They’d caused enough trouble with the bracelet and now were trying to influence her sister. She was sick of hearing Stephanie talk about Jessie, now she was bragging about her lunch with Michelle. She was certain she could find some information about them that would prove useful.
 

She called Jack. “Find what you can about the Cliftons,” she told him without preamble. “What do you mean you don’t want to? You got the bracelet? How? Stephanie! I knew she’d come through. Was everything fine? Great! Now I want you...No, you listen if you don’t want me to start talking about your recent activities. Good. I’m glad you agree. Now just do as I say. Thank you.” She hung up and jumped to her feet. Everything was perfect. She grabbed her handbag. She needed to go shopping. She raced out the door, nearly crashing into her mother.

“Sorry,” Winifred said softly.

Brooke headed for the stairs. “Don’t worry about it.”

If she’d been paying attention, she would have notice the strange expression on her mother’s face.

* * *

He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up there: on a sidewalk in front of a DC liquor store with the smell of vomit and urine swirling in the air about him. Bottles, brown bags, paper cups and matchboxes littered the street. The smells and sights were familiar. Kenneth looked at the wine he’d purchased and held it in both hands as if it were an anchor against the storms of his thoughts. He stared up at the sky.

He had nothing to lose. His business, his reputation, everything he’d struggled to build had crumbled. Now everyone knew of his past, knew of his lies. The response had been swift and merciless.

He’d been politely asked to resign as chair of the Caribbean Council, two other organizations cancelled his membership and another asked him to leave their board. They kindly explained that he was not the kind of image they wanted representing them. He was the typical perception of the bastard Caribbean child with a drunken father and underage mother, stereotypes his community had fought hard to dispel. Overnight, the golden child had become the poster child.

Invitations had dried up as well. People who used to shake his hand now avoided his eyes. Women who had once wanted him now whispered instead of winked when he walked past. Ms. Rose screened calls from angry family members who thought he’d used the article to depict himself as the great American success story. He remembered his mother’s call clearly.

“You’re a disgrace! How am I supposed to show my face now? How am I supposed to go anywhere now that everyone knows?”

“I’m sorry,” he said tired.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have kept you. I knew you would ruin my life.”

His temper snapped. “How? You could use this to your advantage. Why don’t you tell everyone what a martyr you have been by taking me in? You’re not hurt by this. Nobody knows the truth about you and you’re damn lucky they don’t. But push me enough, woman, and I’ll make sure that they do.”

Stunned silence buzzed on the other end of the line.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. It would be so easy to hate her, but he knew he never would. “I know this will probably be the last time we’ll ever speak so I want to tell you something.”

“What could you possibly want to tell me?”

“That I forgive you.”
 

He didn’t know if his words meant anything to her, but he’d needed to say them. He needed to forgive all who had turned their back on him. Ms. Rose still stood by him, but he knew, in time, she would leave him as well.

The image of Kenneth Preston had died leaving only Kenny X.

He opened the bottle and rested his forehead against the lip. He had no one to turn to. As in the past he was alone. The three people closest to him had betrayed him: Nathan, Ace, Leticia. He’d failed.

You fear failure worse than death
. Hadn’t Jasmine said that once? Fear. He had based his life on fear: fear of being discovered, fear of being imperfect, fear of being angry, fear of being loved. The hollowness inside him had always been based on a fear that life would punish him for what he was: a drunk’s bastard trying to pass as a blue blood. This fear had been his constant companion. It wore different guises—driving his father and brother into the arms of their liquid mistresses and him into the arms of a prostitute.

His hands tightened around the bottle of poison. It was a cool refreshing drink to some; potentially deadly to him. And into what world would fear send him now? Into what dark abyss? He threw the bottle against the wall, gaining strength as it shattered.
 

“Thank God.” He glanced up as his father approached him. “I’ve been searching everywhere.”

Kenneth turned away too ashamed to look at him.

“Is what you try fi do, man? Kill yourself? God will take you when he’s good and willing.”

Kenneth shut his eyes from the gathering tears. “I’m dead already.”

“No.”

“How can you talk to me?” He tightened his jaw. “I destroyed your name!”

“Come. Let’s go.”

“Leave me be.”

“Have you forgotten that I am your father?”

Kenneth sighed heavily then rose to his feet. They didn’t speak until they left the city.

“We give too much power to our name,” Charles said. “To the actions of those before us. Our heritage does not equate worth. God did not create you to carry the burdens of your people.”

“Everything I’ve ever wanted is gone.”

“But your past victories were hollow. An echo of your shame and sense of worthlessness. You playacted through life. Now you have a chance to live. To shatter that mask.”

“Even though I caused you disgrace?”

“My shame was that I let the deception continue. I cost my son his life for the sake of pride. The burden is lifted, now you are free. You can adopt Syrah. You don’t have to pretend anymore. She can be yours.”

Kenneth gazed out the window.
 

Charles was quiet then said, “Michelle Clifton resigned from the Council but not before giving a speech that made everyone feel as sweet as rotten mangoes. Those Clifton women are nice to have at a man’s side.”

“I won’t bring Jasmine into the mess of my life. I don’t even know if I’ll have a job. I have nothing to offer her.”

“Except yourself.” Charles glanced at him. “Scared that’s not enough?”

“I know it’s not enough and I’m tried of reaching for something I can’t have.”
 

“I see. I must have misjudged her. I thought she was the type of woman with integrity. The type who fell in love with a man’s character rather than his bank account.”

“It won’t work, Dad. We’ll never be together.” He glanced at the sky, when he spoke again his voice was barely a whisper. “Somehow I think she always knew that.”

* * *

“You can’t sit by the window all day,” Freda told Syrah who’d done just that for three days. “Your Uncle will be back. When he called me he told me not to worry. You’re not to worry either. He just needs time alone. The story in the paper really hurt him.”

“Why would someone print such a thing?”

She dusted a plant. “Americans like success stories and they also like scandal. You mix the two and it’s irresistible.”

Dion began to bark. Syrah turned to the window and saw a car drive up. She ran to the door.

Syrah, Dion, and Freda stood as a small welcoming party when Kenneth opened the door. For a moment no one spoke then Kenneth stepped forward and kissed Freda on the cheek. “Have any food ready, Ms. Rose?”

“Of course I do,” she said gruffly, annoyed by her gathering tears. “I’ll heat something.” She disappeared in the kitchen.

Kenneth knelt down and patted Dion then looked at his niece who stood awkwardly, staring at him with happiness and worry.
 

“Hi, Ace,” he said gently.

She wrung her hands behind her back. “Hi, Uncle Kenneth.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about the bracelet.”

“I’m sorry I lied before.” Her gaze fell. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
 

“I know.” He watched two tears slip from under her lowered lids and slide down her cheeks. He reached out to touch her then stopped. “Ace?”

“Yes, Uncle Kenneth?”

“You can start calling me Dad.”

She glanced up wordless then fell into his arms.

Chapter 29

“I don’t think we should do this,” Teresa said.

Jessie rolled her eyes dismissing her sister’s hesitation. She had planned the retrieval of the Arand necklace for a week. It consumed her. It helped her not to think about things—like the article about Kenneth. How he must be suffering and how she could be of no comfort to him.

She now understood why he hadn’t been able to face her prom night. She had seen the face of her own father the night she’d held the pendant and looked into the face of a stranger. A stranger whose legacy she must continue to protect. “We don’t have a choice,” she said. “Dad made a lot of paste jewelry for Mrs. Donovan and others. But the most damaging are the stories.”

“Perhaps he thought he was creating fakes for people who didn’t want to wear their valuables in public,” Teresa said. “That’s very common.”

“That may be. However, that doesn’t explain the Arand necklace. The only person who has the answer is his number one client, Mrs. Donovan. But since we don’t have time to chat before the donation, we’ll just steal the necklace that could shatter our reputation and be on our way.”

“It’s risky. Shouldn’t we go to the police?”

Jessie shook her head. “Not until we know everything. We have to protect Dad’s name—our name—for as long as possible.”

Teresa sighed still hesitant. “I don’t know. I just think we’ll regret this.”

Michelle spoke up. “Oh, good. I’m not the only one.”
 

Jessie scowled. “Michelle, this is serious.”

“I’m very serious. The only reason I agreed to this ridiculous idea was to keep an eye on you two.” She looked out the window at the dark sky with its warning of rain. “This summer storm can’t decide whether to come or go.” She frowned. “Perhaps we should choose another night. It might rain.”

“So?”

Michelle sent Jessie a look of disgust. “If it rains, we’ll have to deal with mud and footprints.”

“This is the perfect night. The house will be occupied by the Ladies’ League. We won’t have to worry about any alarms. We’ll slip into the library, grab the necklace and leave.”

Michelle zipped up her black jacket. “I don’t know why you think she’d keep her jewelry in a book.”

“Because I saw something hidden in a book one time while waitressing. It makes sense. Lots of people hide things in hollow books.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense if it’s common knowledge.”

“Not everyone thinks that way.”

“How do we know which book?”

“She doesn’t have a big library, remember? It’s nothing like Mrs. Ashford’s. Mrs. Donovan prefers jewelry and statues. We’ve been to her house many times before. Do I need to go over the plan again?”