Luxury Model Wife

by Downs,Adele

“I’m competing against the memory of my father, aren’t I?”

  She tried to shift away from Jimmy, but the table was at her back. “I have the feeling this is more about Steve than James.” Pieces of another puzzle fell into place.

  Victoria lifted her chin. “You’re competing with him for me, the same way you competed against him for Layla.”

  As soon as she said the woman’s name, Jimmy blanched, and she knew she’d found the truth.

  “Layla was Steve’s girl first, not yours. That made her more attractive, and so you pursued her. Once you had her, you lost interest, though by then she’d fallen in love with you. Or maybe she was dazzled by the Van Orr name. Blaming Steve for what happened next was just another way of keeping him in his place. You like being in control, don’t you?”

  Jimmy stood and smoothed the front of his shirt, ignoring the insult. “He needed someone to teach him a lesson. He let me down. He let everyone down.” Disappointment and pain darkened his expression. “We’d planned for years to open a medical practice together. But he screwed everything up and washed out. I tried my best to help him, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t even try.”

  He dragged a hand through his hair. “Steve had everything. Every fucking thing.” He let out a breath. “Parents who paid attention to him and cared enough to ask about his day. While I was left alone in this miserable mausoleum while my mother and father socialized, he attended barbeques with his parents or took family vacations. Steve was good-looking and popular and, when we grew up, the girls wanted him.” His breath came out with a shudder. “All anyone wanted from me was my money.”

  “Except Steve,” Victoria said on a whisper. “He never asked for money.”

  “He was my only friend. At least, I thought so then.” His voice cracked and his eyes flashed with distain. “He threw away our future to become a used furniture salesman.”

  She touched his arm and met his eyes. “Are we all really so disposable?”

  Jimmy pulled his arm free. “People who let me down get cut out of my life. Simple as that.”

  “Then you’ll be a lonely man, Jimmy. People will always disappoint us. Humans are flawed. We make mistakes.”

  Victoria realized, all at once, that they weren’t talking about Steve anymore. She knew why Jimmy had wanted the estate, and her, gone so quickly. He wanted to erase the memories.

  “And we die.”

  Jimmy’s shoulders sagged and the glint in his eyes softened. “I miss him more than I can say.” He lowered himself into the chair behind him and looked across the room, his expression filled with sorrow. “He would have been proud of me.”

  Victoria leaned forward. “James was proud of you. He worshiped you, don’t you know that?”

  He met her eyes once more, and she saw the loneliness he’d described in their depths. There was no malice this time, only grief for what he had lost. “I just wanted him to see what I’ve accomplished. If he’d lived another year, he could have shared my success with me.”

  Victoria laid a hand on Jimmy’s wrist. “He still can.”

  Jimmy frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  The time had come for Victoria to tell him about her concept for the future. The idea she’d been ruminating burst from her lips. “I want to fund a shelter for women and children in your father’s name. I want you to be on the board.”

  Jimmy’s stricken expression disappeared. “Dad would have liked that.” He stood and moved toward the counter. “I’ll pour fresh coffee. Then you can tell me about it.”

  The coffee had gone cold by the time she finished speaking. Jimmy laid his hand over hers. “The James Van Orr Foundation. I don’t know what to say.” He lifted his head. “I’m sorry I tried to kiss you. I was so out of line.” He grinned at her and she found herself smiling back. “It’s a wonder you didn’t knock the crap out of me. I’ve seen you box in your gym.”

  *****

  Steve Carlson sipped chamomile tea at his desk and grimaced. “You expect this crap to make me feel better?”

  He seemed more upset by Beverly’s police questioning than she was. If Beverly was behind the burglary, she should win an Academy Award for her performance.

  She chortled from her seat opposite him. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you, boss. You don’t pull punches.” She drank the hot tea from a china cup and smacked her lips with obvious pleasure.

  “I could punch a lot of things right now.” He eyed the wall beside him, but resisted the urge to strike. “Including a few idiots. Starting with that creep Arnold Flynn. And then I’d like to give Carlos Vega and Bruce Mitchell a few shots. And let’s not forget Jimmy Van Orr.”

  He glowered into his teacup and curled his mouth in disgust. “That bastard’s with Victoria right now. He followed her home.” Steve’s rage boiled over again, and he banged the cup on his desktop. Chamomile splattered across the surface.

  As usual, Beverly went along with his tirade. She was practiced at smoothing his ruffled feathers. “After you beat up half the jerks in this town, then what will you do?” she asked.

  “Feel a whole lot better.”

  Beverly snorted another laugh. “Me, too. I’ll cheer from the sidelines. Let’s go find those bastards right now and get started.”

  Steve smirked and shook his head. Beverly always played him like a fine violin. He touched his swollen cheek with a bloody knuckle and winced. “Can’t.”

  “Why not? I thought you said you were raring for a fight?”

  “I am. But I have to get this place straightened out first.”

  He gestured toward the half-empty store from the open doorway of his office. “And I have to move stuff out of the warehouse and into the shop so we can stay in business. Plus, I have to file an insurance claim. At least I have a copy of the police report to show the claims adjuster.”

  He heaved out a groan. “What a pain in the ass.”

  “I suppose you don’t have time for a fight. Damn. I was looking forward to the show.” Beverly eyed him speculatively. “I guess I can help you fix up the store, instead.”

  “That would be…great.” Beverly was his friend. He could never seriously think she’d rob him.

  He propped his elbows on the desk and lowered his head to his hands. His fingers worked tufts of his hair into random spikes until he banged his hands on the desktop and curled them into fists. “Jimmy Van Orr followed Victoria to her house.”

  “Yes, you said that.”

  “He’s with her right now.” He could feel his blood pressure surge.

  “Probably.”

  “What do you think they’re doing?” His eyes narrowed while his imagination lost control. “Victoria is a beautiful woman. She’s smart and capable. He’s in love with her, you know. I think that son of a bitch is going to try something. He’s going to make his move.”

  Beverly stood and stretched as if she hadn’t heard. “Come on, boss, let’s get started and straighten out this place.”

  Steve sulked a bit more and looked up at Beverly. The woman always knew how to lower his blood pressure and steer him back on track. He grinned at her, offering the best smirk he could muster with a swollen face.

  They ambled out into the store and looked around. “At least they didn’t break what they left behind,” Steve said. He strolled through the room, taking mental pictures of the way his place used to look. “My dad will be glad to hear that.”

  His glance shot to the front of the building to check on Pirate. “Did you feed and water the bird today? I forgot.”

  “I took care of him. He’s fine.”

  “Victoria will want him back. She’s through with this place.” A lump the size of a cannonball caught in his throat.

  He amended his statement with a ragged whisper that nearly choked him. “With me.”

  He wanted to throw a chair across the room, but the closest object was nineteenth-century French. He regained control and swallowed his grief.

  “She’s upset right no
w. Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

  Steve turned toward Beverly. “How can I make her understand I didn’t mean for any of this to happen? That I’d never hurt her? I thought the security system would do its job.” He shook his head in misery. “Apparently someone proved me wrong.”

  Beverly stepped closer and touched his sleeve. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Reprogram the system and add padlocks. Sit outside all day and night and guard the place myself if I have to.”

  “And?” Beverly curled her lips and looked expectantly at Steve from beneath her eyelashes. “You know—Jimmy Van Orr is probably with Victoria right now.”

  Steve bristled. “Yeah, that bastard is probably climbing all over her.”

  “I bet you’re right.”

  “I think I should drive over there and check on her before we clean up the store. Don’t you?”

  Beverly smiled. “Great idea. How about I go with you?”

  “I’ll lock up.”

  “I’ll get my purse.”

  “Meet you at my car.”

  *****

  Jimmy Van Orr’s silver Porsche convertible sat in the circular driveway of the Van Orr estate. Steve parked his Chevy beside it and grunted. “Nice car. Too bad it’s driven by an asshole.”

  Beverly snorted. “You could have a nicer car if you wanted. You’re doing well enough.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” He eyed the Porsche again. “But I don’t need a flashy imported car to impress women. I have other attributes.”

  Beverly laughed and the multiple strands of necklaces around her neck jangled. “I wouldn’t know about that, but I’m sure you’re hugely right.” Her smile showed her teeth.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. Stop trying to butter me up.”

  “That’s what friends do.” She tapped him on the elbow. “You’re twice the man he is. I think Victoria knows that.”

  “Yeah? How?”

  She touched her temple. “People think I’m psychic, remember? Plus, she told me enough about you to know she cares. Victoria’s just gun-shy. She’s been through a lot. Give her a chance to figure things out.”

  “I’m a patient man.”

  “Really? Well, then, go inside and prove that to her. Try to explain how you feel. And don’t lose your temper.”

  “I don’t have a temper.” He opened the car door and stepped into the driveway. Beverly followed him up the stone path to the front door.

  Steve rang the bell. Chimes echoed behind the massive, carved oak door surrounded by etched glass panes. The sounds of footsteps followed. Steve’s heart pounded double time when the deadbolt clicked and the doorknob turned.

  Victoria stood in the doorway and his mouth went dry.

  “Steve?” She searched his eyes for an explanation of the uninvited visit. He noticed she looked tired and drawn and that made him feel worse than ever.

  Victoria smiled when she spotted Beverly, and stepped back to allow them into the vestibule.

  Steve knew that Victoria was too polite to ask outright, “What are you doing here?” No Van Orr, born or bred, would be that rude.

  He jumped right in to clarify. “Uh…”

  Beverly poked him in the back. He tried not to wince. She’d hit his sore kidney.

  “Listen, I know you’re upset,” he said. “And you have every right to be. If I were in your position, I’d be mad, too. I’ll make this up to you if you’ll just…”

  His voice trailed away at the sight of Jimmy Van Orr walking up the hallway to stand beside Victoria.

  “Hello, Steve,” Jimmy said, with a shit-eating grin.

  Steve’s blood pressure shot up ten notches.

  “I’m glad you dropped by.” Jimmy draped his arm across Victoria’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Victoria and I had a long talk this afternoon, and we’ve come to an understanding.”

  Steve looked from one to the other, his blood starting to boil.

  “We have news. We…”

  By the third we, the pulse in Steve’s neck nearly popped.

  Jimmy’s hand dropped to Victoria’s waist. His words faded into nothingness, though Steve saw his mouth moving.

  Behind Steve’s eyes the room turned a blazing shade of red. He reached for Jimmy and yanked him forward. Jimmy lost his footing, hit the floor on his knees, and rolled onto his side.

  Victoria screamed.

  Beverly shouted.

  Steve Carlson leaped on top of Jimmy Van Orr and raised his fist to pummel his face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Jesus, Carlson, you know I can’t hit you back.” Jimmy deflected the first blow with his arm and turned his face away. “Knock it off.”

  Steve pulled his punch and sat back on his heels. He stared down at his old friend with disgust. “You big wimp. If you weren’t a surgeon you’d probably take piano lessons. Anything to get out of a fight.” He grabbed Jimmy by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.

  “You still think with your dick, Carlson.”

  “Better to be a dick than an asshole. You think you can put the moves on Victoria and I’ll let that pass?”

  “Moves? What moves?”

  “A-hem.” Victoria cleared her throat. “Do I have anything to say about this, you two idiots?”

  Jimmy’s expression changed from smugly superior to whipped Golden Retriever in a flash. Steve felt like a beleaguered hound dog. Victoria was clearly unhappy with him.

  Again.

  “What makes you think this is about you?” Victoria glared, and Steve felt his skin melt from his bones.

  “Ah…”

  She glanced from one man to the other. “Or you, Jimmy.” She shot him a look that should have curled his hair.

  Her gaze returned to Steve’s face. She pointed a manicured fingernail he could have sworn flashed lightning.

  “What you both forget is that this has never been about either of you.” She glanced from one man to the other and then gestured to the portrait hanging on a foyer wall. “This is about James and his memory.”

  Victoria spun on her heels and moved toward the stairwell. She placed one hand on the banister and turned before climbing the steps. “You can leave now. I’m going to rest.” She nodded to Beverly. “Thanks for coming, Beverly. Please excuse me.”

  An arctic chill rushed through the room. Steve knew that if he didn’t act fast he might never get another chance to make amends. “You’re right, Victoria. I came here to talk to you and I blew it.”

  He met her eyes and willed his expression to communicate the depth of his sorrow about, well, everything.

  He’d once told Victoria he’d make no claims on either her or her money. He had no right to issue demands. If she chose Jimmy over him, that was her decision to make. It would hurt, but he couldn’t force her to love him.

  Steve sighed in resignation. Maybe he had it coming. Maybe this was justice for his sins of the past. “I screwed up—I know that. But you’ve turned my life inside out. I’m nuts about you.”

  She closed her eyes in acknowledgement and then continued her way up the stairs.

  Steve headed out the front door. Beverly followed and Jimmy brought up the rear. Steve started his Chevy and waited while Beverly buckled her seatbelt. She reached over and punched him on the shoulder. “I told you not to lose your temper.”

  Steve grimaced. He was feeling worse by the second. He glanced out his window in time to see Jimmy start his Porsche.

  Steve gunned his engine, shifted his Chevy into drive, and sped away before Jimmy could move his car.

  “Congratulations, now you’ve screwed things up royally.” Beverly sucked her teeth in disgust as they entered the cross street at Route 202. She slapped Steve’s arm again. “How in the hell will you fix this?”

  “You’re the psychic, maybe you can tell me.” He winced at his own sarcasm.

  Beverly’s reply was uncharacteristically prickly. “I’m not psychic, remember? That’s just our private joke. I
practice psychometrics. There’s a difference.” She poked his elbow. “So don’t blame me for your mistakes.” She turned away to stare out the window.

  Now he really felt like shit. He didn’t know it was possible to make Beverly mad. “Sorry, Bev. Maybe I am a dick. I’m a catastrophe with women.”

  He lowered his voice a notch. “But, damn, Jimmy had his arm around her and that didn’t sit right.”

  Beverly said nothing for several seconds. She sighed then and turned his way. “You were beaten, robbed, and then lost the woman you love. I guess you’re entitled to a little slack.” She rubbed his arm where she’d hit him. “You’re no dummy. You’ll figure things out.”

  “Yeah, I was almost a doctor once.”

  “And doctors patch things up, right?”

  *****

  The next day, Steve stopped by the police station. He wanted to see his friend Lieutenant Leighton and learn if the police had made progress.

  His friend was upbeat. “Good news, Carlson. We got a warrant to search the store, homes, and warehouse of Pinnacle Antiques Auction. It’s a good thing you reported Vega’s threat. Mrs. Van Orr’s previous report about a possible prowler and Flynn’s assault on her gave us something to work with. If it wasn’t for that, the judge wouldn’t have signed the papers. He was reluctant, but finally gave us what we needed.”

  Leighton rubbed the side of his nose. “There’s absolutely no forensic evidence, though, and we haven’t found a single witness.”

  “Except the bird.”

  Leighton chuffed like Steve had told a joke. “Maybe we’ll discover something. Though, most likely, the goods are long gone.”

  Steve hung his head. “Probably.”

  “I was just heading out to the diner to grab some lunch. Want to come along? I need to make two quick stops on the way.”

  “Sure.”

  The men climbed into a patrol car, drove a few blocks, and parked on Chestnut Street near the Historical Society. The lieutenant lowered the windows and turned off the ignition. “Be right back. The curator volunteered to help with your case. She’s keeping an eye out for stolen goods fenced through the museum circuit.”

  “Great idea. Tell her thanks for me.”