“There are so many good schools in and around DC; I wandered over to Howard University during one of my ‘getting to know the city’ trips and decided to enroll.”
“In what?” Jack asked.
“Teaching.”
Jack’s eyes grew larger. “Teaching what?”
“Math or science. I was a wiz in those subjects in high school and college,” Lila said. “After touring Clay’s factories and seeing a class of bright-eyed students taking in information like sponges, I knew I wanted to be one of the people helping them learn.”
“Lila, I think that’s wonderful,” I said and hugged her. “But did you say Clay has factories? I thought he made furniture.”
“He does, but that’s a hobby. He has a chain of furniture stores and several factories that make the furniture.”
Jack and I exchanged looks. “Several,” we both said.
Lila laughed. “Yeah, isn’t it funny that he turned out to be CEO of a huge corporation?”
She looked happy. They both did. “What does Clay think about this?” Jack asked.
Clay and Shane joined them. Both guys immediately went to their wives and kissed them as if they had only just arrived instead of being in another room. Sitting down next to them, they touched in some way, holding hands or draping an arm around the other’s shoulders. It seemed so natural. I wondered if they were conscious of it or if it was part of the marital ritual.
“I told them I enrolled at Howard University.”
“Isn’t that wonderful?” Clay asked. Shane looked confused and Clay explained. “Not only is she beautiful.” He took a moment to kiss Lila’s temple. “But she’s smart, too, a combination I find irresistible.”
“So, Amber, what about that guy you were seeing last summer? Wasn’t it a blast to find out he was the son of one of the richest men in the country?”
Everything went still. I could see Lila and Jack turn to stone. Unfortunately, neither Clay nor Shane seemed to notice. Jack and Lila had been tiptoeing around me as if I were vintage glass. They were careful not to say Don’s name as if even the vibration of air currents would cause me to shatter.
“The news was surprising,” I said, committing to nothing, but inside my body was shaking. As much as I tried, I couldn’t keep myself from reacting to the thought of Don Randall. I tried to think of him as Sheldon St. Romaine, but the man who was kind to me, who held me in his arms and made me feel like the world was my own private beach, was Don. And it was Don’s face that superimposed itself on any devil horns and goatee I wanted to paint on Sheldon.
“I heard he was leaving the Vineyard,” Shane said. “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t seen him since your wedding.” It was a lie. I hadn’t told Lila and Jack about Don’s unfinished visit to complete the promise we’d made. I was still unclear about what had happened and what the reason for it was. I’d reviewed that night several times, wondering if Don had intended to go somewhere and decided against it when he saw me. Had he come to confirm my broken engagement? If so, why hadn’t he done anything about it? The man was as much an enigma as he’d been when he pressed his room key in my hand the first night I’d met him.
“Was he there?” Lila asked. “I didn’t see him.”
“He stood at the back of the room during the ceremony. Then he left.”
“Oh, honey,” Shane said to Jack. “I forgot to tell you I made us a reservation for dinner at the Opry-land. You’ll love it there.” Shane addressed me and Lila, going on as if he hadn’t rocked my world. “It’s a city unto itself. We’ll need to go early so we can see the whole place.”
The excitement in his voice showed pride in his city. It also focused attention away from me. But Shane wasn’t doing it for that reason. He had no idea the torrent of feelings he’d unleashed in me with his comments about Sheldon St. Romaine.
I’d begun to separate them. They were two different men in my mind. I fell in love with Don Randall. Don had died when Sheldon took his place. My grief period was over. It was time to move on. My friends knew me to be resilient, to be able to work through the wounds that life dealt us.
But this wound was a major gash. It would take a little longer to get over.
“Clay, let me show you my studio,” Shane said. Again with kisses to the women in their lives, the guys went off to the man cave.
“I’m sorry, Amber,” Jack said the moment Shane and Clay were out of earshot.
“It’s all right, Jack. You can’t protect me from people talking about Don. To tell you the truth, it’s not that much of an issue,” I lied. I wasn’t sure if they bought it, but Lila’s next comment told me they didn’t.
“Are you sure? You were pretty dramatic when you found out that he’d lied to you. For someone who says she doesn’t care, you acted like you cared a lot.”
“We’re your best friends, Amber,” Jack said. “We know when you hurt.”
“I’m not hurt. Not much,” I conceded. “I’ll survive this.”
“Do you want to? Do you really want to?”
“How do you really feel about him?” Lila asked. “We thought you’d fallen hard for him.”
I had. Harder than I thought possible. I was prepared to marry a man I didn’t love. Don saw through that. He opened my eyes to the fact that I would make three lives miserable.
“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” I said. “I don’t know where he is. Shane said he left the Vineyard.”
“We could check,” Jack said, rising from her chair.
“No,” I shouted. “I don’t want to know.”
Lila was on her feet, too. They went into the house, both glancing back at me with sly smiles on their faces.
I didn’t follow. I didn’t want to know. I really didn’t. I even said I didn’t.
But I did.
Chapter 26
The paper haunted me. It lay on the top of the chest in my bedroom. Jack had gone inside and somehow found where Don had gone. She didn’t explain and I didn’t ask. She came back and handed me a scrap of paper. It didn’t matter that I told her I wasn’t interested in Don, that I didn’t want whatever was on the paper. Sheldon and I weren’t compatible. He didn’t believe in the same things I did. Jack didn’t believe me. Tucking the paper in my purse, she said, “You can throw it away on the train.”
Yet I’d brought that scrap of paper back to Brooklyn.
And now it haunted me. Who would ever think that something as small as a two-inch by two-inch square of paper could destroy all I thought I was? I pushed my hands through my hair and stared out the window into the cool night.
Les Pieux. I’d looked it up on Google Earth. It was in France, a small outcrop of land near the North Atlantic. For some reason I felt it was pointing toward the Vineyard, toward our beach, the place where Don and I had made love. And where my world had changed. The place where I was sure I’d fallen in love with him.
Les Pieux. It was on the other side of the world. A small town that didn’t see much other than a few straggling tourists. Why had Don chosen to go there?
And what was I going to do with the knowledge of his address and phone number?
I stared up at the moon. It seemed to be mocking me, asking me questions for which I had no answers. Balling my hand into a fist, I punched at it and turned around. I grabbed the scrap of paper from the dresser and picked up the phone.
It was answered on the second ring. “Jack, I need your help.”
“Oh, no. There’s that note in your voice. I’m married now. I can’t be supporting you in your harebrained schemes anymore.”
“Okay,” I said.
For a moment there was silence. Then Jack said, “Amber, are you all right?” I heard Shane in the background. I also heard the concern in Jack’s voice.
“I’m fine,” I said resignedly.
“All right,” Jack said. “What do you need my help with?” I knew her curiosity would get the better of her.
“I’m going to France.”
The Les Pieux hotel was far different than the Vineyard. There were no bungalows. There were no secluded areas where foliage provided cover for couples who wanted to be alone. The eight-story building sat close to the road. I’d taken a suite on the fifth floor. Usually, I walked up to the stairs, but tonight, I stumbled into the small elevator, which I planned to replace with a larger, more modern one, and waited while the rickety equipment lifted me to the fifth level.
The tradesmen told me it was unusual for the boss to work alongside them. I told them the place needed to be ready by spring, when the tourists began to come. They shook their heads, not believing that tourists would venture this far from Paris, and went back to work. That was one of the reasons, but it wasn’t the only one. I needed the diversion. I’d worked with my hands before, but it was often to be the mechanic for my own classic car.
When I was younger and money from home hadn’t poured in as regularly as I needed it, I’d done much of the work myself. That included minor repairs to the places I’d stayed. Some of them weren’t as well maintained as others. I never knew that work would one day come to my rescue to keep me sane.
The space of an ocean didn’t keep Amber from the front of my mind. I wondered if she’d found someone else. She wasn’t one to sit about and mope. Amber would take life by the horns and move on to the next phase. I pictured her in the white dress and red shoes she’d arrived on the Vineyard in. At night my dreams were of her wearing only those shoes.
I headed straight for the shower and washed myself under the slow drip of water, another project on the repair list. It would have been better if I’d gutted the place and started from scratch. But the building had been there for three hundred years and local code would not let it be torn down. Even in this tiny town, there were preservation laws I would need to work within. The bones were good, however. The floors were strong and sturdy. The hotel had survived wind, weather, and war.
And working on it was helping me survive Amber.
At least I hoped the hard work was doing that. Grabbing a towel, I dried the water from my body and walked naked into the bedroom. I grabbed the edge of the huge comforter that was like a big flat pillow when I saw the white envelope lying in the middle of the bed.
Someone had been in the room. I looked around, wondering if someone was going to jump out from an unexpected location. The room was nothing like the bungalow on the Vineyard. It was just a small room with a shower. It had a sofa and a desk, set apart from the main room by a latticework étagère, making it a suite. There were only a few suites in the hotel, but they were small by U.S. standards.
I searched the corners of the room, the closet, and looked under the bed. Satisfied that I was alone, I picked the envelope up. My body went taut and weak at the same time. I sank down on the bed, unable to remain upright, as I stared at the printed words.
Don Randall.
I didn’t recognize the handwriting. Who would know that name here? How had this have gotten here? I didn’t remember seeing it when I came in, but then I hadn’t paid much attention to the room. My attention was on getting to the shower and washing off the sweat and fatigue of the day.
I turned the white envelope over and looked at the flap on the back. It was sealed. An unnatural feeling crawled over my skin. I didn’t understand it and frowned, trying to give some significance to what it might mean. Gingerly, I slipped a finger under the flap and tore it open.
A key spilled out.
I jumped away from it as if a snake had been let loose. It fell to the bare wooden floor. I stared down at it. Electronic keys had not made it to this eighteenth-century structure. Of course, they would look totally out of place in a building this historic, but seeing it startled me.
Room 801 was the number on it. 801 was a suite. It hadn’t been renovated, but it was clean. There were never many guests in the hotel. Due to the renovations, only a few rooms had been rented. I hadn’t looked at the guest list. It had been a daily ritual of mine on the Vineyard, but here I had other concerns.
Reaching for the phone, I stopped before picking up the receiver, trying to think of what I would say to the switchboard operator. Then I lifted it. The operator came on almost immediately.
“Oui, monsieur?”
I recognized Janine’s voice. “Janine, do we have a guest in room 801?” I spoke in English. My French wasn’t that bad, but I didn’t even think of trying it. My focus was totally on the key which I picked up and held in my hand.
“I will check, monsieur.”
I waited. I began to feel the cold in the room. Getting a clean shirt, I pushed one arm into it, using the other hand to hold the ancient phone. Then switching hands, I pulled the shirt fully on. She was back before I could button it.
“Oui, monsieur. Mrs. Donald Randall from New York checked in this morning.”
I started to say something, but changed my mind. “Merci,” I said and replaced the receiver.
It couldn’t be. My mind refused to believe what it wanted to. Don Randall was a common name in America. It could be coincidence. But why was her key on my bed?
Unless …
I dropped the thought. Galvanized into action, I dressed and ran up the stairs. Coming out on the eighth floor, I went directly to room 801. There I hesitated. I had the key in my hand, but I was reluctant to use it. I knocked. There was no answer. Several moments later, I knocked again. Again, no response.
Looking at the key, I slipped it into the lock and turned it. The door swung inward. I saw no one in the small room that served as a living room. I crossed the threshold, stepping past the identical latticework étagère and into a room that was dimly lighted. The door closed behind me. I didn’t turn to look at it. The vision in the doorway from the bedroom captured all my attention.
The first thing I saw was a long, brown leg coming around the door frame. The leg ended in a blood-red shoe. I thought all the air in my body had been pushed out. Looking up, I saw the white dress with a slit up the side and the promise of sensuality beyond sight.
“Amber,” I uttered. My voice was so low, even I couldn’t hear it.
She stepped fully into the room. “I’m not a dream,” she said.
In a second, I’d moved across the floor and pulled Amber into my arms. I had to be sure she was real, sure this wasn’t another dream, some false apparition coming to test me. She felt whole as I hugged her, solid against my chest. I buried my face in hers, sought her mouth as if I needed it to draw life.
Her touch was like fire, velvety soft and hot, with long red fingernails raking over my shoulders. I’d once compared her to a beautiful fire that drew its prey to the flame. I gladly followed that flame, mesmerized by the heat, yet drawn by its beauty and inevitable danger. I wasn’t going to try to escape. I wanted her, as much as I wanted to continue breathing. I’d left her in Brooklyn, but I was never going to let her go again.
My hands ran all over her. I wanted to touch every inch of her body. I wanted to make sure she was here. That I hadn’t lost my mind and brought her to life because I wanted her to be here.
As with the first time we kissed, the hunger took over. It was raw and fierce. I bent her backward, holding her to me while my tongue invaded her mouth, while I took in the sweetness of her, while I refamiliarized myself with her taste. Life had been hell without her.
And I wasn’t going to go through hell any longer.
Even if this was a fantasy, if she would vanish in a moment, I would go with her. I would hold on to her for all I was worth.
I lifted my mouth, but not my grasp on her. “Amber,” I said, needing to hear her voice.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice breathy and full of sex.
“Are you here because you forgive me?”
She nodded. “I forgive you. And I love you.”
>
I smiled. My heart soared at that moment. “Will you marry me?”
In the dim light I wasn’t sure if I saw tears in her eyes, but they shone with something.
“I will,” she said.
“Are you sure?” I asked, fear still gripping me. I wanted her more than I thought it was possible to want someone.
“I’m sure,” she said.
“Good.” I took her mouth again. For a long time neither of us did anything except enjoy each other. “Good,” I said again when we came up for air. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’m not leaving you to go get one.”
I lifted those long legs and carried her to the bed. We undressed with the speed of teenagers, trying to get out of our clothes and hold on to each other at the same time.
I kissed her neck and made my way down her body. I felt her quiver under my hands. My body grew large and hard as I joined with her. I wanted her all at once, wanted to fill her body with mine, wanted to understand everything about her and what had brought her to me in the space of seconds.
“I love you,” I said. “Don’t ever leave me again.”
“You just try and get rid of me.”
Our mouths melded and there was no time for words. I wanted to be gentle, to savor the moment, to listen to her sounds as I brought her to climax, but time, distance, and abject need conspired against me. I took her hard and fast. Like animals in heat, we wrestled with each other. Our arms and legs tangled as we rolled across the sheets, each vying for domination, being both the aggressor and the prey.
Amber wrapped her long legs around me and pulled me into her. Like a slave, I went willingly. The room filled with animalistic sounds and the sweet undertone of sex while we took from each other, while we shared the most intimate ritual. I’d never felt so needy. My body, stone hard, dug into her and with each thrust she seemed to ask for more. And I gave and gave and gave.
I heard her scream as climax overcame her. A moment later I felt the rush inside me and on a final wave of sensation, strong enough to break away this piece of jutting earth, I collapsed, spent, sated, and in love.
Some Like Them Rich Page 29