by Regina Duke
Jason bid Madlyn and Mrs. Johnson goodnight, then sagged onto an upholstered bench in the entry way, waiting for Vicky to come down.
He was truly grateful for her presence. She was beautiful, kind, talented and funny. He marveled at how quickly he’d come to depend on her, and how eagerly he awaited the signing of their personal agreement. Once that was done, he knew she would be around for at least a year. He would have the time and the authority to straighten out all the problems caused by Gloria’s scheming.
Most important of all, he would have time with Vicky. The sight of her coming down the stairs sparked a flame in him. He was exhausted when she left the room. Now he felt like he could spend all night entertaining her.
Vicky shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Is this day over yet?”
“Not until my aunt arrives. Did Gran give you any trouble?”
“No. Into her nightgown and out like a light. Poor thing.”
“All these years, and I never knew that life with my grandmother could be so exciting. She always went out of her way to present a reserved, withdrawn demeanor with me. I couldn’t believe we were even related. And she’s nothing like my parents were, as far as I can remember.”
“I wish I’d known them,” said Vicky wistfully.
Jason wagged his brows. “Come on. I’ll show you their room. Gran locked it and never changed a thing.”
“If she locked it up, how do you know?”
“I have keys to the whole house. Every time I came home to visit, I would sneak into their room and lie on their bed. Look at the family pictures. You know, nostalgic kinds of stuff.” He took her hand and led her to the back of the foyer where large pocket doors gave the illusion of a wall.
“This house is huge,” said Vicky. “Oh! You have a baby grand!”
“This is the music room. You like it?”
The ceiling rose high above her in an echo of the foyer’s domed grandeur. The floor was marble, and three elegant chairs sat on Kirman rugs against the far wall. The walls were the palest shade of blue, and the impossibly long drapes complemented the pale blue and cream colors of the rest of the room.
“I want to bring a sleeping bag and sleep under the piano.”
Jason was pleased. “Dolores keeps this room closed off. I don’t know why. I think it’s gorgeous. I’m going to have the housekeeper open all these rooms. Come on, I’ll show you the library.”
Vicky was transfixed by the baby grand. “It’s too late to play, isn’t it?” She sounded mournful.
Jason smiled. “Tomorrow. You can plant yourself in here and play till your fingers go numb. How’s that?”
“Thank you!” Then, “You have a library?”
“Right this way.”
He moved through another pair of marvelously disguised pocket doors into a long hall that ran along the back of the house. Windows soared from a bank of window seats to the twenty-foot high ceiling.
“It’s so dark and spooky.” Vicky’s voice echoed down the hall.
“I’ll fix that.” Jason moved to the wall and flipped some switches. The predominant colors here were pale yellow and cream. In addition to the upholstered banquettes beneath the windows, three embroidered settees from another era waited along the wall.
“Good to have extra seating,” said Vicky, “in case you get tired walking from the music room to the library.”
Jason grinned. “My parents used to throw huge parties. They called this long room the gallery. My mother had great plans for it. She wanted to collect art. I can remember people dancing in here, with uniformed servers carrying trays of food and drink. It was delightful. They let me come down for the Christmas parties. They would put a huge tree right there.” He gestured toward a spacious alcove in the inner wall.
“It looks like it was built to hold a Christmas tree,” said Vicky. “When we’re married, can we put a tree there? Oh, but who would see it?”
“Everyone who comes to the party. And all the people who come to hear you play. And everyone who lives in the house. It’s a great place for the staff party. My parents would put the grandest of the trees here so the family and staff could enjoy it.”
“Trees?”
Jason looked surprised. “Of course. It’s a big house. Can’t just have Christmas in one room. Here’s the library.” He used both hands to open the double French doors into the library. Every inch of available wall space held shelving. The single high window was nestled between row upon row of books. Two high-backed leather chairs with matching ottomans flanked a bow-legged dark wood table with a tall lamp in the center.
“I want to curl up and read right now,” said Vicky. “This is wonderful. I’ve only seen rooms like this in the movies.”
Jason smiled. “I like it, too.” He ran a finger along the top of a book. “Dusty. I have a feeling Gloria cut way back on staff earlier than I thought.”
“Is this where your parents’ photos are stored?”
“No. Come on.” He took her hand again and led her out of the library down a perpendicular corridor and up a flight of stairs. “That room there used to be my room when I was little. And this one belonged to my parents.” He fumbled with his key ring, then opened the door and reached in to switch on the light.
Vicky gasped at the sight before her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It wasn’t the furniture that took her breath away. The suite was filled with framed photos, sports equipment, dolls, posters, a guitar, trophies, and a hundred other items, each of which was a testament to a moment in the lives of Jason’s parents. She entered with reverence and moved slowly from item to item, afraid to touch anything.
She could feel Jason watching her. Was he gauging her reactions? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to know more about him, and this was the best place to start. She halted in front of a portrait over the mantel of a long abandoned fireplace.
“Are these your parents?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder people are stunned by your looks. You and your father could be twins.”
“Separated by thirty years,” said Jason.
Vicky’s eyes were drawn to the image of his mother. She was tan and athletic, almost as tall as his father. Her blond hair fell thick around her shoulders. Vicky lifted a hand to her own hair, then let it fall.
“All this sports equipment was theirs?”
“Yes.” Jason picked up a jai alai basket and swung it through the air, then perched on the foot of the bed.
“Why is it all shut away in here? Surely your parents didn’t have a large portrait of themselves in their bedroom. Where was it originally hung?”
“In the foyer. Gran had everything taken down after the funeral and moved it all up here. I felt like she was denying they ever existed.”
Vicky kept moving, her eyes hungry for as much family information as she could gather. She paused again, in front of an eight-by-ten color photograph in a simple frame. She picked it up for a better look. “Is this the catamaran that was lost?”
Jason nodded, dropping his eyes to the floor.
“I thought catamarans were extremely stable.”
“They were hit by a freak wave and washed overboard.”
Vicky turned the frame so the light didn’t glare off the glass. She squinted at the inscription. “Jason? This inscription says, ‘Love you, Mom. Thanks for the cat. Tom and J.’ Did your parents have a pet?”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “Let me see.” He took the photo and tipped it as Vicky had done to eliminate the glare. “That’s odd. No, they didn’t have a pet. Mom was allergic to dog and cat dander. I know, because I started begging for a puppy in kindergarten.” His voice faded away and he lost himself in thought.
Vicky picked up a pair of women’s roller skates, her mind still on the inscription. “He must be thanking your grandmother for the catamaran. Did she buy it for him?”
“No! That can’t be. How could she go through the years saying the accident was
my mother’s fault for not learning how to swim if she was the one who bought him the boat?”
Vicky carried the skates to the bed and sat down by Jason. “It’s starting to make sense,” she said.
“None of it makes sense to me. What are you talking about?” He sounded defensive.
Vicky wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say, but she couldn’t not tell him. Besides, surely over the years he must have had his suspicions.
“Here’s my theory. Your grandmother gives your parents a catamaran. They love it and while they’re enjoying it, it capsizes and they die. Dolores must have been crushed by guilt. Can you imagine? You give your child a gift and it kills him. Everything in the house reminded her of what happened and how deeply she mourned. So she took down all the pictures and gathered up all the memorabilia and locked it away in here. I think she was trying to stop the pain.”
Jason looked miserable. “Why couldn’t she just explain all that to me? Why let me think she didn’t care about them? About me?”
Vicky didn’t know what to say. She tried to lighten the mood. She hefted the roller skates. They were white with two wheels in front and two in back. “When I was little, I wanted to learn to skate, but my mother wouldn’t let me. She was afraid I’d fall and hurt my hands or my wrists. In sixth grade, our class had their year-end party at the roller rink. I begged and pleaded to skate. Mother was a chaperone. She finally gave in and went to the counter to rent me a pair of skates, but Madlyn chose that very moment to fall and break her arm.” She ran her fingers over the wheels. “No skates for me. Mother and I ended up taking Madlyn to the hospital. Her mom was working.”
“Up here at the house,” said Jason. “I remember. I was already home from school for the summer, and Mrs. Lake was so distressed. The gardener drove her into town, because her husband had their only car.” His features lit up with the memory. “Isn’t it something? The way our lives sort of danced around each other down through the years?”
Vicky smiled. “Did you skate?”
“Oh, yes.” Jason got up and dug through the closet for a moment. He returned with a pair of in-line skates. “Mom liked the old-fashioned skates. These are the ones dad preferred. Mine are in my old room, but my feet were a lot smaller at ten.”
Vicky laughed.
“I wonder if these will fit me?” He toed his shoes off and pulled the skates on, lacing them up. “Hey! Perfect fit.”
“Why not? You’re just like your dad in so many ways.”
Jason looked into her eyes. “You know, in all these years, I never looked closely enough at that photo to see the inscription. Maybe because seeing the catamaran in the background made it all too real.”
“That’s understandable,” said Vicky.
Jason winked at her. “Let me teach you to skate.”
Vicky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Now?”
“Sure. Why not? When I was kid, I used to skate in the gallery. All those smooth marble floors. They’re just begging to feel the wheels of these skates. Let’s go.” He stood up and pulled her off the bed.
“But, but, but what if I fall and break my arm? My piano career would be ruined.”
Jason snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea. Bring those skates.” He grinned mischievously at her.
Vicky was caught up in his sense of fun. She giggled as she chased after him. He rolled ahead of her down the corridor and disappeared through another door. By the time Vicky got there, he was emerging with a roll of bubble wrap and a reel of packaging tape.
“This should save your arms and hands.”
Vicky laughed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Never been more serious about anything, ever. Come on.” He headed downstairs, descending in skates like an expert.
In the gallery, he steered Vicky to one of the settees.
“Try the skates on. No point in wrapping you if they don’t fit.”
“This is so crazy.” But Vicky couldn’t stop smiling. She slipped her shoes off and pulled a skate onto her right foot. “I think it fits.” She slipped her left foot into the other skate and laughed with delight. “I’m wearing skates!”
“Now let me protect these talented hands.” Jason wrapped her arms and hands in bubble wrap and secured it with the packing tape.
“My arms look like robot arms.”
“No, you need claws at the end of your arms for that. Besides, what kind of robot looks like bubble wrap?”
“Protect-o-tron? Wrap-o-bot?”
Jason started popping the edges of the bubble wrap. “Robo-Pop?”
Vicky laughed with delight.
Jason helped her stand on her skates by grasping her bubble-wrapped wrists. When her wheels rolled out from under her, she squealed and he tightened his grip. Bubbles snapped and popped, but he steadied her until she was balanced precariously over the skates.
Vicky couldn’t stop laughing.
“Having fun?”
“I feel like a cereal commercial.”
Jason grinned and squeezed again. Pop, pop, pop.
Vicky gasped for air. “Stop, please. I have to breathe sometime.” She looked into his eyes and was warmed by the affection she saw there.
“Try to relax,” he said. “You want to feel like a rag doll from your neck to your hips. Flexibility is the key. Keep your knees bent a little. Good. I’ll hold your hands and skate backward.”
“Slowly, please. This is all new to me.”
Jason slid slowly backward on his in-lines. After a shaky start, Vicky rolled along with him. Her knees were bent so far, she felt like she was sitting on an invisible chair. She was mesmerized by the sight of the patterned marble floor as they rolled a bit faster.
“Don’t stare at your feet. Look at me.”
Vicky forced her eyes upward to meet Jason’s. He grinned at her.
“You’re doing great.”
“How do people do this without training wheels?”
“Is that all I am to you?” teased Jason. “Maybe I should just let go.” He loosened his grip.
“No! Don’t let go!” Vicky panicked and tried to grab at his hands, but she couldn’t bend her fingers inside the bubble wrap. With a squeak, she wobbled dangerously.
“Don’t stiffen up.” Jason closed his fingers over her wrists just in time to keep her from falling forward. But when he did, she overcorrected by leaning backward. Her skates leapt forward between his legs and the rest of her followed. She landed flat out on her back on the floor.
Jason released her wrists and pitched forward to land on his hands in an unstable downward dog. His skates cooperated for half a second, then rolled out from under him.
Vicky braced for impact. But Jason’s strong arms saved him from landing hard on top of her. Instead, the heat of his form pressed gently against her. She could feel his heart pounding against hers for a brief moment, then he rolled off to the side. She lay on the floor, quaking with laughter.
The look of alarm on Jason’s face only made her shake harder.
“Are you all right?”
She was laughing so hard, she couldn’t talk. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She slapped one bubble wrapped hand against the floor. Pop, pop, pop.
She drew a desperately needed breath and shrieked with laughter at the sound.
Her laughter was infectious. Soon they were both rolling on the floor, holding their sides, and trying to breathe through their hilarity.
During a moment of quiet, as they both gulped air, came the sound of a door slamming.
Instantly alert, they sat up and looked toward the music room.
Jason put a finger to his lips. Vicky pointed at her skates. Jason quickly slipped them off so she could walk. Then he stood up. Vicky did the same. She was just about to whisper, “What was that?” when the sound of smashing glass came from the foyer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Jason skated to the front door. Vicky was happy to let him go first. She followed, shoeless, as he re
ached the foyer and turned on the lights.
“Aunt Gracie!”
Vicky saw a pleasantly plump middle-aged woman with curly out-of-control white hair bending in polyester slacks to pick up pieces of a vase that lay shattered on the floor.
“Oh, Jason, I’m sorry, dear. I used my key because it’s so late. I didn’t want to wake anyone. Who put this vase here? I nudged the table with my luggage and boom. There it went.” She noticed Vicky and straightened, smiling. “Hello, dear. Are you Vicky?”
Vicky couldn’t resist that smile. “Yes. So nice to meet you.”
“Elegant even when barefoot. Oh, Jason, she’s a keeper. Was this vase expensive?”
Jason picked up the largest piece of the vase’s bottom and examined it. He frowned. “The original was expensive, but this is a copy.” His tone was grim. “I think an inventory is in order. Gloria may have been giving herself bonuses from the family art collection.”
Vicky took charge of Grace’s suitcase. “Let me help you. Jason, which room is she in?”
Grace waved a hand. “I’ll show you, dear. I know the way. Jerry and I used to visit here before the accident. Jason, dear, could I trouble you for a cup of tea?”
“Of course. Let me just clean this up first. I’ll bring up a tray.”
“I didn’t wake Dolores, I hope.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” He set the broken shards on the floor and moved to hug his aunt. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Grace patted his back, then extricated herself from his embrace. “I know you are, and I’m glad, too. My house was beginning to suffocate me without Jerry there. You go get my tea and I’ll introduce myself to this lovely young lady.” She headed for the elevator. “Come along, dear. I’m worn out from traveling.”
Vicky flashed a grin at Jason, shrugged, and followed Grace into the elevator. Grace ran a finger over the rim of the control panel.
“Oh, dear, housekeeping is getting lazy.”
Vicky cocked her head to one side. “You seem to know a lot about the house. Did Jason give you your key?”