“Oh, of course. Thanks.” She moved past him now, still looking as white and scared as if she’d seen a ghost. She still looked unwilling to talk to him or be with him.
He didn’t want her to feel like that. More importantly, he knew it was partially his fault. He hadn’t exactly been friendly to her the past few days. He’d been keeping his distance, too.
“Hope,” he said, when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She looked so damn helpless, so stricken, so scared and distressed that he couldn’t bear it. “If there’s anything I can do—” he offered. Not so much for his father’s sake, this time, or even for Joey’s, but his own. Because strangely enough, he still found himself wanting to help her, wanting to get past the barriers, to find out what was really going on with her.
She shook her head firmly, not about to share whatever trouble she was in. “No. Thanks anyway.” And to Chase’s disappointment, on that note she climbed the stairs and didn’t look back.
Chapter Seven
Hope waited until Joey was fast asleep that night before going to the safe in her bedroom and removing her jewelry case. She carried it over to her bed. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of it, she began laying the pieces out, inspecting them one by one. Every piece she owned had been a gift from Edmond. Every piece was very valuable. And aside from the stock she owned in Barrister’s, it was the only liquid asset she had. She would have to sell it. All of it.
Leaning back against the pillows, she closed her eyes. She could hardly believe she was actually considering giving in to blackmail. Russell wanted two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The man was insane. But if she didn’t give in to him he was just evil enough to do what he had threatened, to tell Joey, and she couldn’t bear that. Joey would never learn about her sordid past or Russell’s part in the scandal that had ruined her former life, torn her apart from her whole family, and almost destroyed her emotionally.
No, she had to get rid of Russell, the sooner the better. The jewelry was a small price to pay. So first thing tomorrow morning, she would see about cashing it in.
Her decision made, Hope met the owner of the River Oaks jewelry store at eight the next morning. She laid out all the pieces. She had no idea what the pieces were worth collectively. It was time she found out.
“This is a beautiful set,” Mr. Fitzgerald murmured. “I remember selling it to your husband. It was right after you were first married, wasn’t it?”
Hope nodded, her gaze falling on the garnet necklace and earrings. That set in particular had deep emotional significance for her. She could still remember Edmond fastening the necklace around her neck on the eve of their wedding. “I can’t promise you forever,” he had said. “Only that I’ll take care of you as long as we’re together.” And he had. He had loved her until the day he’d died. And she had loved him.
Surely, she thought, Edmond would understand why I’m doing this. He would want me to protect Joey.
“Twenty-five thousand,” Mr. Fitzgerald said.
Hope felt herself begin to panic. This was by far the most valuable set she owned, in her opinion. She had a long way to go before reaching the two hundred and fifty thousand Russell was demanding. “That’s all?” she asked, trying hard not to conceal her mounting panic.
Mr. Fitzgerald smiled comfortingly. “I can see you have attached great sentimental value to the set, but, I promise you, Hope, that’s all it is worth.”
She knew he wouldn’t try to cheat her. If anything, because of the business the Barristers had done with the River Oaks store over the years and because she was Edmond’s widow, he would give her a slightly inflated price.
Hope looked at the beautiful sapphire and diamond ring and matching bracelet Edmond had given her for their first anniversary. She tried to swallow the tears that clogged the back of her throat. “What about these?”
“Twenty thousand.”
Hope swallowed. “The aquamarine necklace?” Given to her to celebrate Joey’s birth.
“Ten thousand.”
And so it went. By the time she had added up the value of all the pieces she owned, she was still far short of her goal. Worse, she had nothing else of value to offer, Hope thought dispiritedly, except one thing. She looked down at her hands. Her diamond wedding and anniversary rings.
Slowly, she took them off her hand. She gave them to Mr. Fitzgerald. “What about these?”
He looked as stricken as she felt. “Hope, you don’t—”
“Yes,” she interrupted, feeling dangerously near tears, “I do.” She had to sell them. She had to sell everything. And she would do it with no regrets, too. She would do anything to protect Joey.
Mr. Fitzgerald bent down to examine the rings. Hope was still numb as he quoted the final price. “When can you have a check for me?” she asked. She was in a hurry to leave now that the deed was done.
He frowned, not liking her haste, but too much of a gentleman to inquire deeply into the reasons behind it. “The end of the week.” He paused and then added gently, “But only if you’re sure this is what you want to do.”
It was, Hope thought grimly. She had no choice.
UNFORTUNATELY for Hope, her day did not get any easier. “What do you mean you’re planning to close the store for a few days at the end of the month?” Rosemary complained, storming in on Hope and Chase about ten o’clock. She waved the memo Hope had instructed her secretary to distribute.
Hope’s secretary appeared behind Rosemary, gesturing helplessly and rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry, Hope. She saw them while I was still preparing them.”
“Are you crazy?” Rosemary continued, advancing farther into the room. She thrust the stolen memo at Chase, who, after accepting it, silently began perusing the print.
I don’t need this, Hope thought. Not after the morning I had. To Rosemary, she countered with a calm only Chase seemed able to appreciate, “I’m just being practical.”
“Practical!” Rosemary echoed with a huff.
“Our first shipments of the new merchandise will be in by then. We can’t mix couture and ready-to-wear in the same departments,” Hope retorted evenly.
“So what are you planning to do?” Rosemary countered sarcastically, her beringed hands on her fashionably slim hips. “Rearrange the whole store?”
Hope lifted her chin a notch higher, daring Rosemary to challenge her. “As a matter of fact, I am,” she enunciated plainly, feeling her temper flare in response to the other woman’s continued harassment.
“What?” Rosemary gasped in shock. “Chase, do something,” she pleaded, turning to her son.
Chase sent Hope a questioning glance, looking just as disturbed as his mother. In an effort to reassure him, Hope patiently explained her plans. “I’m going to put all couture on the third floor. It will be available for viewing by appointment only. The first floor will be cosmetics, jewelry, and adult ready-to-wear. The second floor will remain as it is, with furniture, bedding, linens, china and the children’s departments.”
“That will require quite a bit of upheaval.” Chase frowned.
“I know. Which is why we are going to have to close the store for a few days.” Hope got up and brought back the plans she’d commissioned an architect to draw up. “As you can see it will involve several new sections of sheet rock being put up, some replastering and painting—”
“Absurd.” Rosemary paced back and forth. “This whole revamping is crazy.”
“No,” Hope countered, “it is not. These changes are necessary if Barrister’s is to survive in the nineties.”
“You’d know a lot about surviving,” Rosemary said bitterly.
“Mother,” Chase intervened, “let’s not get personal here.”
“Oh? Am I supposed to overlook what this—this idiot—is doing to our family store? She’s going to drive away all our loyal customers and if you don’t see that, Chase, then you’re a blind fool!”
“Our loyal customers will remain loyal,” Hope said calmly.
Ro
semary snorted and Chase gave her a chastising look. “I’m sorry,” Rosemary said to her son, “but loyalty is something Hope obviously knows nothing about. All you have to do is examine her past to know that. Look at how quickly she turned her back on her own people, for heaven’s sake. No sooner had she married rich than she all but disowned them!”
Rosemary was right in so far as the facts went, Hope thought with a debilitating mixture of shame, guilt and remembered hurt. She had walked away from her own family. But her doing so had nothing to do with who she had married. Or why, even now, she had no desire to be in contact with them again.
Chase stood, putting the plans for the renovation carefully on Hope’s desk. “Mother, that’s enough,” he ordered sternly.
“Siding with her again?” Rosemary turned to Hope and gave her an ugly look. “You’ll pay for this,” she swore, and stormed from the room.
The door slammed behind her. For a moment, Chase was silent. Head bent, he gave Hope a long-suffering look that silently begged her forgiveness. Then he ran a hand through his dark gold hair.
Although she was still very angry with Rosemary, Hope’s heart went out to Chase. She knew firsthand how frustrated he felt. She had suffered similar problems when trying to deal with her mother, too. She could still remember how much it had hurt, how betrayed she had felt, in the days before she had left her family for good. She could remember the way her mother had looked at her, accusing her silently, telling her it was all her fault, that she’d brought the traumatic scandal on herself.
That still hurt her unbearably. She had expected her own family to back her up. But they hadn’t. And consequently, Russell and his family had won. They’d triumphed in the whole ugly mess. But that was in the past, she reminded herself firmly. And thanks to the sacrifices she was making now it would stay there. “It’s okay, Chase. I understand. I know firsthand how unreasonable mothers can be sometimes.”
He glanced up. His gratitude faded gradually and was replaced by curiosity. “Is that why you left home the way you did?” he asked, his voice soft.
Hope said, evasively, “We were never a close-knit family. Large, yes, but it was every person for his or herself.”
He strolled nearer, seating himself on the edge of her desk. “And yet you’re so devoted to Joey.”
Hope shrugged off his praise. “I didn’t want him growing up the way I did, with no parental support or attention.” Wanting him to understand that much about her, she lifted her eyes to his. “My parents thought that if they put food on the table and clothes on our backs it was enough. As soon as a child could walk, a door was opened and he or she was sent out to play.”
Chase moved closer. “Is that why you had only one child, to be sure you had enough time to devote to Joey?”
Caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of his question, Hope drew in a quick breath. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I know for a fact my dad always wanted to have more children.”
Hope would’ve liked to have had more children, too, but she couldn’t tell Chase why they had never done so, not without possibly revealing everything she and Edmond had agreed must be kept secret from the rest of the world.
“You being so young, so obviously maternal—” Chase continued casually “—I just wondered, that’s all. But I can see it’s none of my business, so forget I asked.”
Hope knew no harm was meant by his impulsive questioning. He was just trying to understand her, on every level. She knew because part of her wanted that, too. Chase would be hurt if he knew the truth, that Edmond had kept secrets from him, too.
“We better get back to work,” she said, averting her glance.
“Yes.” Chase nodded slowly, looking momentarily as lonely and disappointed as she felt, “I guess we’d better.”
“I KNOW SOME of these pieces have been in your family for generations,” Mr. Fitzgerald said the following morning. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about Hope selling them. I wanted to be sure you knew.”
“I didn’t know. Thanks.” Chase paused, bewildered and upset by this latest revelation about his stepmother. “Did Hope tell you why she’d decided to sell them?”
“No,” Mr. Fitzgerald answered, sounding as inwardly troubled as Chase felt. “Only that she wanted it done right away and to get the best price possible for her.”
Chase struggled with himself. Although he was overwhelmed with curiosity, he also knew this was none of his business. If Hope wanted to sell her jewelry, certainly she was allowed to do so. She didn’t have to consult him. But why was she selling it? And not just a piece or two but everything, even her wedding rings? Was Hope simply after the money and hence as greedy and uncaring as Rosemary kept asserting Hope was? Or was she in some sort of trouble, as his gut feeling kept telling him she was? And if so, wasn’t it his duty as Edmond’s son to help her?
He found her in the cold-storage room, checking the furs that were going to be offered at reduced price. They were alone and weren’t likely to be disturbed; still, he didn’t know how to broach the subject without offending her. Finally he just said it. “Mr. Fitzgerald called me a little while ago. He heard I was in town. He thought I ought to know what was going on.”
“I see.” Hope’s reaction was subdued. Careful, she ran a hand over a balmacaan mink, checking tactically for any flaws. Finding none, she wrote the tag number down on the clipboard. The cold air of the vault had brought a rosy color to her cheeks. When she looked at Chase the color deepened even more. “You’re angry with me for selling the pieces?” She kept her voice neutral with effort.
“No,” Chase said, refusing to turn his glance away from her lowered gaze, “I know they’re yours to do with what you wish.”
Her relief about that was visible, but she let it pass without comment. Still not looking at him, she moved down, to the next fur on the rack. “You see,” Hope said touching the sleeve of a beautiful mink and changing the subject, “this is what I was talking about.” She turned to him, her expression all business. “Ten years ago at this time of year, we would have had maybe ten coats left to put on sale. This year we’re stuck with thirty-five of the original forty we ordered. And we have almost no chance of selling these unless we mark them down to fifty percent off. Even then it won’t be easy. Which, as you know, reduces our profit margin on the coats to nothing. All we have to show for it is the prestige of carrying the coats, and the electric bill for the cold-storage room.”
And prestige, nice as it was, Chase thought, didn’t begin to pay the rent. Chase smiled, beginning to feel a bit chilly himself. Clamping his arms over his chest, he drew nearer to her and said, “Weather-wise, there’s not much reason to wear mink in Houston.”
Hope grinned and countered dryly, “Women in Houston don’t wear furs because they’re cold.”
No, Chase thought, discomfitted, they wore furs, like they wore jewels, because they were filthy rich and wanted everyone to know it. Which brought him back to the original reason he had tracked her down. Was the poor performance of the store the reason she was putting her jewelry up for sale? Was she in personal financial jeopardy as well, fearful of losing her house? That was the only reason he could figure that would motivate her to sell the jewels. He was sure Hope knew that Edmond would’ve wanted the jewelry to stay in the family if at all possible, for sentimental reasons. If possible, Hope would have honored that wish. But if that were the case, why wouldn’t she just tell him so? he wondered. He was frustrated anew at the way she’d cut him off.
Hope confessed quietly, “I wish Mr. Fitzgerald hadn’t called you.”
Chase didn’t think he could stand to see her looking so sad. He watched as she went through the sensual process of inspecting the next coat. Her slender hand moved over the silky fur with sure, sweeping motions and he found himself wondering what it would be like to have that same hand on his skin. Or better yet, to have Hope naked, wrapped in one of those furs. Had she ever vamped like that for his father? Would she d
o it for him?
His throat dry, he said, “Mr. Fitzgerald knows some of the pieces are heirlooms, and he wanted to give me the first shot at them.” Without warning, the coat slid off the heavy hanger. Hope was left awkwardly juggling the coat, clipboard and pen. Chase stepped forward to rescue the coat before it fell to the floor, and as he put it back on the hanger, asked gently, “Hope, are you sure you want to sell everything?” More than ever, he wished it wasn’t greed that motivated her.
Hope’s chin tensed stubbornly. “Yes.”
Chase could tell she resented his intrusion, although she was doing her best to cover it. And maybe that was fair. Still, he didn’t like her secretiveness.
“I just thought you might want to save a piece or two for Joey and his wife someday. The emerald pendant, for instance.”
The one that had belonged to his grandmother, Hope thought. She faced him awkwardly. “I don’t know what to say, Chase.” Obviously, she thought, he felt she was being a little bit callous being able to sell the jewels at all. But she could hardly tell him that she had no choice but to give in to Russell Morris’s blackmail. Then Chase would know the truth about her marriage to his father. He’d know Edmond wasn’t the strong, virile man he had pretended to be, and that he had kept secrets from Chase. If Chase knew that, he would be hurt. Worse, his view of his father would be changed forever. Lessened. She couldn’t have that. Especially now that Edmond was no longer here to defend himself or explain his actions to his son.
“Hope, are you in some kind of trouble I don’t know about?” Chase asked.
“No,” Hope denied promptly, turning back to her task of inventorying the unsold minks.
Chase knew he was pushing it, but he had to ask. “Then why are you selling the jewelry, Hope?” He followed her over to the next rack. She tried to keep him from being able to see her face, but he positioned himself so she had no choice but to be aware of him. “Why now?” he persisted. He was aware they were close enough for him to see the warm vapor of her breath against the chill of the room; her nipples had tightened visibly, too. He felt an answering pull in his own body. Before he could think, he was moving toward her, watching her dark blue eyes widen, her lips part. She was so sweet and so near he could almost taste the kiss. And though he sensed she wouldn’t, couldn’t resist such a move on his part, at least not initially, he drew back.
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