The Best of Friends

by Susan Mallery

  “But I thought Blaine was already on board with this. They had a meeting.”

  “It’s a family decision,” Elizabeth snapped. “One that has nothing to do with you.” She clutched her handbag more firmly in her hands. “You have gone too far, Jayne. You have been nothing but a disappointment to me from the beginning. I helped you because it was the right thing to do, and all you’ve given in return is grief. You are nothing without me. Just another average young woman. You’re not pretty or especially smart. This”—she waved at the condo—“is the best you’ll ever do. You’re pathetic.”

  The reprieve was over, Jayne thought. She folded her arms across her chest.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ve put up with crap from you for years. Mostly because I was grateful you took me in. I knew you wanted me to be an example for Rebecca, which was fine. Doing the right thing was easy. I liked being the good girl. I admired you so much. You were beautiful and gracious, in a cold, snakelike way. But you were the closest thing I had to a family, and I was willing to put up with a lot.”

  “I won’t listen to this,” Elizabeth said, glaring at her.

  “There’s the door.” Jayne pointed. “Feel free to go. In the meantime, let me say I’ve more than paid my debt to you. I’ve been your personal minion for ten years. I’ve helped you plan parties, written thank-you notes, done shopping, wrapped presents, looked after the house while you’ve been on vacation. I’ve been your sounding board, kept your secrets, and tried desperately to convince myself you actually gave a damn about me. But you didn’t. Not ever. I was a way to demonstrate how wonderful you are. Nothing more. As long as I acted like a well-behaved pet, you were happy to keep me around.”

  “If you were a pet, we could have you put to sleep,” Elizabeth said, and crossed to the door. “Go to hell, Jayne. And stay there. You are dead to all of us.”

  The door slammed, and Jayne was alone. She stood in the center of her tiny foyer. She drew in a breath, then another, cautiously probing her feelings, half expecting an emotional crash and burn. She and Elizabeth had passed the point of no return. Their relationship was damaged beyond repair.

  There wasn’t any grief, she thought cautiously. No real pain. If anything, she had a sense of lightness. Something big and heavy had slipped off her shoulders, leaving her with the sense that she could almost fly.

  She was free. No more answering to the angry queen, no more trying to please a woman who prided herself on being difficult. No more errands to run, no more canceling plans because Elizabeth needed her.

  She was also alone, but that was nothing new. She’d been alone since her mother died. Living on the fringes of Elizabeth’s life had allowed her to pretend otherwise, but that’s all it had been. An illusion.

  She turned to look at her small condo and smiled. It seemed like the perfect day to start packing. Out with the old.

  Her cell phone rang. She picked it up and recognized the number.

  “Hi, Rebecca,” she said.

  “Hey, you. It’s beautiful outside. Want to have lunch on the beach? We can watch the pretty people go strolling by and know they’re wishing they were us.”

  Jayne laughed. “That sounds like the perfect plan. You have a restaurant in mind?”

  Rebecca gave her the name and address.

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Jayne told her.

  “I’ll save you a seat.”

  The day was warm, the restaurant right on the beach, the waiter deliciously attentive. Rebecca ordered a lemon-drop martini and eyed the bread basket with interest. She’d been eating a lot of carbs lately. She was going to have to up the length of her morning walks on the beach or risk not getting into her jeans. But that was to think about tomorrow, she thought as she reached for a roll.

  “Rebecca?”

  She looked up and saw Jonathan standing next to the table. Well, there went her appetite.

  She set down the roll and sighed. “Why are you here?”

  “To give you a copy of this.” He handed her a thin folder. “It will be in the paper tomorrow. It’s a good picture. That will make you happy.”

  She opened the folder and stared at the copy of an article. “Heiress Aids Terrorists,” the headline screamed.

  Five years ago the rich and famous scrambled to purchase expensive and exclusive jewelry by mysterious and talented designer Rivalsa. While dozens speculated as to the designer’s identity, no one knew the truth. Except the Worden family. Rivalsa is none other than only daughter Rebecca Worden. She’s been designing her pieces from her palatial mansion in Italy. But why so secretive, Rivalsa? Is it because the beautiful diamonds everyone admired were purchased on the black market? Illegal conflict diamonds are bought and sold every day, the profits going to fund worldwide terrorism.

  “What?” Rebecca screeched as she sprang to her feet and tossed the folder at Jonathan. “You bastard! None of this is true. I can’t believe you’d be this much of a shit. My diamonds come from Australia and Canada. I would never use conflict diamonds.”

  “You screwed me in public,” he said with a thin smile. “Now it’s my turn.”

  “If you’d done a better job of screwing me in private, none of this would have happened.”

  His nasty little smile never wavered. “Face it, Rebecca. You’re ruined. And you’ll take your family down with you.”

  Then he turned and walked away, leaving her frothing with rage and clueless as to how to fix any of it.

  Fifteen

  REBECCA SAT IN THE book-lined conference room and tried not to let anyone know she was nervous. The article had appeared that morning, and she’d already received nearly a dozen calls.

  David walked into the conference room. She resisted the need to run to him so he could make her feel better.

  “I don’t need a lawyer,” she said instead. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Not just a lawyer,” he said with a grin. “A team. We have a spin consultant and a media specialist coming, too.”

  “Goody.”

  “Along with Mom and Dad.”

  She stood. “No way. I’m not staying if she’s going to be here. I don’t want to listen to whatever it is she’s going to say.”

  But Blaine and Elizabeth appeared at the doorway before she could make her escape. Rebecca sat back down, wishing she hadn’t had that extra shot in her latte. It wasn’t sitting well in her stomach.

  She’d called David after Jonathan had stalked out of the restaurant. He’d promised they would fix whatever problem Jonathan had created. While she believed him, she was seriously pissed that there was something that had to be fixed. Maybe she could have been slightly more sensitive when she’d broken up with Jonathan, but that was no excuse for what he was doing.

  “Don’t worry,” Blaine said, moving toward her. “We’ll make this right.”

  She stood and hugged him. “Thanks, Dad. Jonathan is being ridiculous. Conflict diamonds. I would never do that.” She stepped back. “I shouldn’t have told him about the jewelry at all.”

  “But so interesting that he knows,” Elizabeth said coldly. “About your being Rivalsa. Apparently you all know, and no one thought to tell me. Now I’ll have to pretend to be excited and have a coming-out party.”

  Rebecca watched Blaine and David try not to squirm. She felt a flicker of sympathy. None of this was their fault.

  “Why would anyone tell you?” she asked Elizabeth. “You never showed any interest in me before. Your own daughter took off when she was eighteen, and you did nothing.”

  Elizabeth pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. “Here we go again. I didn’t look hard enough. Poor, poor you.”

  “You didn’t look at all,” Rebecca said coldly. “Admit it. You were relived not to have to worry about me.”

  “Because every move everyone makes is about you. God forbid anyone go five minutes without considering what you might be doing or thinking. The world would cease turning.”

  “Elizabeth,” Blai
ne said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t helping.”

  “Oh, and if we’re not helping Rebecca, we’re not doing the right thing,” Elizabeth said, her voice thick with anger and contempt. “How foolish of me to forget.”

  “Admit it,” Rebecca said, refusing to let her mother’s words hurt her. “You’re pissed because you love the pieces and you had no idea they were mine. Now it’s all going to come out, and you’re going to have to pretend you’re proud of me, that you knew all along. You’re going to have to convince your friends that it was a happy secret, when you’ll be left feeling like a fool.”

  Elizabeth’s blue eyes turned cold. “How little you know me, Rebecca. My friends will be nothing but jealous to find out my daughter has been delighting them all with her jewelry. There’s no convincing. You’ve made me a celebrity. How that must annoy you.”

  “Not as much as your not knowing it was me in the first place,” Rebecca said. “David’s known from the beginning. He helped me. Did you know that, Mom? Gave me a place to stay, looked out for me.”

  David sighed heavily. Rebecca knew she was selling him down the river, but making her point with Elizabeth was more important.

  “Dad came out to Australia to make sure I was all right,” she continued. “The rest of the family gave a damn, but not you. You couldn’t be bothered to check up on the mistake you’ll always regret.”

  Elizabeth stood and faced her. “Look at this mess. Look at what you’ve become. Why wouldn’t I have regrets where you’re concerned?”

  “Elizabeth.” Blaine’s voice was sharper now. “She’s your daughter.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Blaine. But while you left for work every day, running the family business and enjoying yourself, I was left with an uncontrollable child whose only goal was to make my life a living hell. She was rude, defiant, and insulting to my friends. She skipped school, drank, slept with her friends’ boyfriends. She worked hard at destroying her life and taking me down with her.”

  She turned to Rebecca. “You brought this on yourself. I’m not going to help you fix it.”

  With that, she left. Rebecca didn’t watch her go. Instead, she turned to her father. “Dad, you really need to think about finding someone else.”

  Blaine bent over and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll get right on that.”

  David took the chair next to her and grabbed her hand. “What’s with the two of you?”

  “She’s a bitch and can’t stand my perfection.”

  He squeezed her fingers. “That must be it.”

  She pulled back her hand. “I’m okay. She’s always been like this. It’s not new.”

  “No, it’s not,” Blaine said, sitting on her other side. “I’m sorry.”

  Andrew Tannin, the aging family attorney, walked into the conference room.

  He greeted them all, then took a seat opposite and put down several sheets of paper.

  “Well, young lady,” he said, smiling at Rebecca, “you’re in a bit of a pickle.”

  Despite everything, she laughed. “That’s one way to describe it.”

  “Conflict diamonds are a serious business. Very serious. The government is likely to get involved. So why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  Andrew Tannin was about a hundred and eight, Rebecca thought. Would talking about sex kill him?

  “My daughter ended a relationship,” Blaine said, surprising her by speaking first. “The man in question was angry. He knew about her work as a jewelry designer, knew she worked in diamonds, and planted the story.”

  “Hardly gentlemanly behavior,” Andrew said, then tutted. “Do you have documentation on the diamonds?”

  She pulled the folders out of her large tote and set them on the table. “No one wants to be accused of selling conflict diamonds,” she said. “Customers don’t want to think they’re supporting terrorism. I get my white diamonds from Canada and my colored diamonds from Australia. They’re more expensive, but we know exactly where each stone came from. The Canadian diamonds have a microscopic etching of a polar bear or a maple leaf on them. The Australian diamonds are numbered.”

  She pushed the folders toward Andrew. He pulled a pair of glasses out of his suit jacket pocket and put them on.

  “Like a dog pedigree,” he said, flipping through the papers.

  “Sort of.” She tried not to smile. “I would never use conflict diamonds. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Andrew looked up. “Don’t you worry, young lady. This is all fixable.” He glanced at Blaine. “Do you want to sue for damages?”

  “David and I will handle that.”

  “I won’t ask any questions.” Andrew put his glasses back in his pocket and rose. “I’ll get started on this right away. Rebecca, make sure my staff knows how to get in touch with you. You’re not planning on leaving the country anytime soon, are you?”

  “No. But I’ll want to eventually.”

  “We should have this cleared up in a matter of weeks. I know people.” He winked, then left.

  “He’s a weird little man,” she said when the door closed behind him. “But I like him.”

  “He’s the best.” Blaine stood. “I think that’s everything.”

  Rebecca thought about her safe at home and the hidden blue diamond Nigel would do just about anything to get back.

  “Not exactly,” she said, and told Blaine and David about the stone. “It was my consolation prize,” she said. “Now Nigel’s in L.A., and he’s made it clear he wants the diamond back.”

  She didn’t mention the sex in the garden. It wasn’t something either her father or her brother would want to know.

  “You don’t have any paperwork on it?” David asked.

  “No. I suppose he could claim I stole it, but then he would have to admit that he had it in the first place. And I did smuggle it into the country.”

  “You won’t like prison,” her brother said cheerfully.

  “Gee, thanks for your support.”

  Blaine shook his head. “I’m not worried about that. Is it possible Nigel and Jonathan are working together?”

  “No.” She paused and considered the question. “Maybe. Nigel’s not a happy guy.”

  The men exchanged a look she couldn’t read, then David patted her on the shoulder and stood.

  “We’ll take care of it,” he said. “Don’t worry. But next time, could you pick somebody who won’t want to crucify you in the press?”

  She stuck out her tongue. David laughed. Blaine followed his son to the door.

  “Your brother is right,” he told her. “This is manageable. I want you to spend your time learning about stainless steel jewelry.”

  “I promise,” she said, collecting her bag.

  She walked out after them. Despite the article and the two angry men after her, she felt good. Loved and protected by those who mattered. As to Elizabeth, she could go to hell.

  Rebecca celebrated her legal soon-to-be victory with a mocha Frappuccino, no whip, then drove to the studio. She felt inspired and ready to get to work on her stainless steel designs. She’d already done about a dozen sketches, and a couple of the ideas were keepers. She was playing with a signature look. A leaf design that would—

  She rounded the corner, heading for the parking garage next to the design center, only to have to stop behind a half dozen police cars parked in front of the building. It took her ten minutes to work her way around them and into the garage. As she parked, she fought against a bad feeling in her stomach. A sense that she wasn’t going to like what she found inside.

  Sure enough, she’d barely made it to the first floor of the building when two of the other jewelers came running toward her.

  “Somebody broke in and stole all your stuff,” one of the women yelled. “They trashed your space and even broke the bench.”

  Rebecca’s stomach flipped, making her regret the Frappuccino, whip or no, and followed the women inside. After she’d shown the police her ID, she w
as allowed to climb the stairs to her workspace and survey the damage.

  Someone had destroyed everything. Her sketches were in ruins, her small safe broken open and everything missing. The only thing still in one piece was her stool, with a note attached. Block letters suggested that she TRY FUCKING ON THIS NEXT TIME.

  “Do you know what it means?” one of the LAPD officers asked.

  She had a good idea it was connected to Jonathan’s watching her make love with Nigel in her mother’s garden.

  She wasn’t afraid. Jonathan’s actions were childish and spiteful. But inside, she felt an emotion she didn’t usually allow herself. Guilt.

  Jayne was right—Jonathan had done nothing worse than not be Nigel. She’d cruelly and publicly humiliated him in front of his peers. She’d destroyed what mattered most to him, his reputation, and now he was trying to destroy what mattered most to her. At the lawyer’s office, she’d been annoyed, but now she was simply ashamed.

  “Do you know who did this?” the police officer asked.

  She nodded slowly. “I doubt he did it himself, but I know who’s behind it.” She gave them Jonathan’s name, his work and home address. “He’s a banker,” she added. “A very rich banker.”

  The officer grinned. “My favorite kind.”

  Blaine poured more coffee. “We need a plan.”

  “What about beating the crap out of both of them?” David asked. “Or at least threatening it. That would work on Jonathan.”

  “An interesting idea. But from what I remember about Nigel, he would be happy to take you on.”

  David chuckled. “I thought you’d be doing the fighting.”

  Blaine grinned, then settled back in his chair.

  They were in Blaine’s office in the Worden building. Andrew would handle the legal end of the mess, but David and Blaine had to come up with a way to silence Jonathan and keep Nigel away from Rebecca.

  “Nigel and Rebecca have a history,” David said, reaching for his mug. “I warned her about him years ago, but you know Rebecca.”