For years, of course, Amy hadn’t known exactly what the problem was, nor had her three brothers, their new spouses or even Daisy herself. But now the secret was out, and it was clear how Daisy wanted Grace to handle the situation.
“I heard you’re looking for a photographer,” Daisy said, looking straight at Grace, as if there was no reason the two of them shouldn’t work together. “I’m here to apply for the job.”
“I think it would be best if we did this by appointment,” Nick said in an effort to ward off any kind of personal confrontation between the two women in front of the show staff.
“Nonsense,” Grace countered cordially, drawing on all her strength to remain every inch the true professional no matter what. Nevertheless, she could feel the blood moving from her chest up her neck. “I’ll talk to Daisy right now. Let’s go in my dressing room, dear, shall we?”
Aware her cheeks were unnaturally warm—and hence, probably pink—but unable to do anything about it, Grace led the way to her dressing room. She ushered Daisy inside then shut the door behind them and turned on some soothing classical music as background noise, to ensure nothing said between the two would carry into the hallway.
Daisy set down her portfolio and looked around admiringly. For once she was dressed somewhat conservatively, in a plain black tank-dress that fell to just above her ankles and thick wedged sandals. Her wavy blond hair was arranged in a loose French twist and held away from her face in a butterfly clip. She had discreet diamond studs in her ears and a hopeful look on her face. “Gosh, this is nice,” Daisy said.
Feeling as if her entire body was stiff as a board, Grace nodded. She and Daisy were in agreement on Grace’s dressing area. It was a large room, with makeup table and mirror, desk, sofa and Grace’s stair machine, which she used every morning before makeup. It also had a private bathroom and a closet for Grace’s own clothes. Her son-in-law had gone all out to make her as comfortable as possible, which was just one of the reasons that Grace had chosen to work with Nick rather than with the many other network and cable producers who were clamoring to have her star in one of their shows. The other reasons for choosing Nick had to do with the quality programs and level of success Nick was famous for. He knew when to cut corners and when not, and most of all, he was interested in the long, not the short, view.
Grace had suffered too much turmoil in her life thus far. She wanted something solid, that would last. She wanted this, her first solo TV show, to be something she could be proud of.
“I work with digital and traditional 35mm cameras,” Daisy began as she sat down on the sofa and eagerly opened her portfolio. “I know how to upload photos onto the Internet and can perfect the digital photos on the computer. So if you want a picture larger or smaller, I can do that.”
Grace held up a staying hand before Daisy could turn over her portfolio. Ignoring the crushed expression on Daisy’s face, Grace said as gently as she could, “None of which is really relevant, Daisy.” Deciding it was best to be as forthright as possible, Grace perched on the edge of her padded vanity stool and looked Daisy straight in the eye and continued, “I know you’re very talented. That you’ve done work for Chase’s magazine, that you’ve photographed properties for Mitch’s wife, Lauren’s, real estate business. You’ve helped Amy with her newspaper ads by photographing her redecorating jobs. And you recently had a cover shot on Charleston Magazine. But you also remind me, through no fault of your own, of something I’d like very much to forget.”
It was Daisy’s turn to flush. “That’s not my fault,” Daisy retorted quietly, looking younger than ever. “I didn’t choose to come into the world the way I did.”
Grace swallowed around the tight knot of emotion in her throat, aware she was doing as much to crush Daisy’s innocence right now as Tom and Iris already had. Aware she had never felt so mean as she did at that very moment, Grace returned quietly, “It doesn’t change the facts of your birth, Daisy, or what happened to precipitate it.” It doesn’t change the way I feel. And right now, whether you or anyone else likes it or not, I have to be concerned about that.
“So, in other words, you’re going to blame me for what my birth parents have done,” Daisy accused, getting to her feet.
Grace had been in Daisy’s position once—full of talent, but ridiculously short of experience—and she hated dashing Daisy’s hopes this way, but she felt she had to be scrupulously honest, for everyone’s sake. “I’m sorry, Daisy. Seeing you upsets me.” Grace lifted her hands helplessly, shrugged. “I wish that were different. I wish it could change, but I don’t think it can.”
JACK HAD ALWAYS HAD a problem leaving the office at seven or even eight in the evening. There was always so much more to be done, problems to be solved, contracts to be negotiated, new business to ensure, which was absolutely the way Tom and Mitch Deveraux wanted it. Now, with the merger between Deveraux Shipping Company and Heyward Shipping Company well under way, he had the additional responsibilities of enforcing the agreed-upon firewall that protected both companies during the interim period.
But, for the first time, he couldn’t seem to think about his job more than the prescribed eight to ten hours a day. Instead, once the clock hit five his attention turned to Daisy.
He wondered what she was doing. How her day had gone. Was she feeling okay? Had she really gone over to see Grace Deveraux at the soundstage where she knew Grace was filming her new television show? And if so, what had Grace Deveraux’s reaction been?
Jack tried calling Daisy at home, but there was no answer. So he packed up his briefcase and headed out into rush-hour traffic.
It was 6:00 p.m. when he reached the three-mile stretch of beach where he and Chase and Gabe Deveraux all owned homes. Daisy’s car was in the driveway. Trying not to think how much it cheered him to see she was already home, he parked behind her car and headed inside.
The moment he was through the portal his happiness faded abruptly.
She was seated at his desk in the study, phone held between her shoulder and ear, using both hands to rifle through the drawers. His personal and business papers were spread out willy-nilly over his desk. As were paper clips, legal pads, several pens, scissors, a ruler, markers, a cut-out section of the city’s social calendar of upcoming events from the Charleston Herald, as well as a homemade calendar for the rest of that month.
“No, that sounds great.” She barely glanced up when she saw him. “Right. I’ll be there. Promise. Okay. See you later.” She hung up.
Jack didn’t know whether to be glad she was so obviously back in the saddle, as far as her work was concerned, or peeved that she had gone through his stuff.
Daisy went back to scribbling on the notepad in front of her and paused to highlight something in the newspaper column in bright pink. “You’re home early,” she said as she wadded up the parts of the newspaper she didn’t need and tossed them into the trash can in the corner.
Jack sauntered in and put his own briefcase down on the edge of his desk, any hopes he’d had of a kiss or hug or smile hello disappearing like the sun behind a cloud. He tried to read what she was writing, but her penmanship was so messy it was impossible to decipher upside down. “What are you doing?” he asked casually, trying not to feel irritated that she had commandeered his home office without asking.
“Working,” she said in a crisp, businesslike tone that hinted he should simply go away and leave her alone.
“That’s good.” I guess. Jack didn’t want her to overdo it, but he also recognized Daisy needed to do something to pull herself out of the funk she had been in since the miscarriage. And if her taking pictures again was the solution, Jack was all for it. Especially since he knew his work had helped him put the sadness over the loss of their baby aside, and move forward.
His gut tightening with the depth of his unease, he hazarded a glance behind her to see if she had gotten into the large file cabinets, the ones she shouldn’t, under any conditions, see. And realized with mounting relief that she
apparently hadn’t. “How’d you get the desk drawers open?” he asked, as if he didn’t mind her presumptuousness at all, when he absolutely did.
Daisy shrugged and glanced up. “I figured there had to be an extra set of keys around here somewhere.” Daisy picked up her notes, folded them in half and slid them into a black leather day planner that looked brand new. She snapped the clasp shut and tucked the planner back into the fringed buckskin carryall she used as a purse. “I was right, of course, although it took me a while to find them.” She gathered up her pens, the newspaper clippings and one of the legal pads. The other one she put back in his desk, in a different drawer than where it had come from, Jack noted, even more irked. “Why did you put them in your sock drawer?”
“Because it seemed logical.” And he hadn’t expected anyone else to go there to find them. Unable to help himself, Jack picked up his checkbook and file of monthly bills and stacked them neatly on one side of his desk.
“Say…” Daisy opened the bottom desk drawer and began flipping through the contents of that, too. “You don’t by chance happen to have any of those little sheets of business cards that you can run off on your desktop computer, do you?”
Jack shook his head. “No. All my cards are printed at the supplier we use at work.”
“Darn.” Daisy lifted the legal pad and gathered up fifty or so loose business cards, with her brother Connor’s street address and her cell phone number. “I guess I’ll just have to use these tonight.”
Although he could have used a lot warmer welcome for himself, Jack was pleased to see her looking so enthusiastic about something. “What’s happening tonight?” he asked curiously.
Daisy stood. “I got a job at the Protect the Children charity fund-raiser.”
Jack watched her stuff the rest of her belongings into a worn black canvas carryall. “That’s the one for abused kids.”
“Yep. A lot of people attend and the organizers have agreed to let me set up shop in an adjacent area to take pictures of some of the guests. It’ll be about as challenging as taking prom photos, but at least I’ll get paid for my time and have the opportunity to hand out business cards to anyone who might want them.”
Jack admired her hustle. The determination to work and more than carry her own weight was something she shared with him. He looked at her homemade calendar for the rest of the month. “Are these all gigs? Or are you—we—planning to attend these fund-raisers?” She had something marked for every single evening of the following week.
“They’re gigs.” Daisy smiled at him proudly. “But don’t worry,” she reassured him quickly. “You don’t have to go.”
“I don’t mind.”
Daisy looked at him as if she could care less either way. “Suit yourself.”
“What’s the dress tonight?”
“A little more casual than that suit you’ve got on. Sport coat, shirt, khakis.”
“Tie?”
“Up to you.”
Jack followed her into the bedroom. He dispensed with his own suit jacket and slacks as Daisy stripped down to a transparent pink bra and matching thong, and went into the part of the closet she had commandeered for herself. She came out with a wispy pink and white tropical-print dress that had a high neck, no sleeves and almost no back. Noting there was no way she could wear the bra she had on with that dress, she slipped it off and put the dress over her head. The wispy material clung to her firm, high breasts and jutting nipples. As he watched her smooth the soft, feminine-looking fabric over her waist and hips, and straighten the drape around her knees and calves, Jack felt an instant reaction in his groin. No way, he thought as she turned to allow him to help her with the zipper that went from the small of her back, to just below her waist, she was going to this affair tonight without him.
Jack ripped off his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I take it this means you didn’t apply for a job at Grace Deveraux’s new TV show.”
“Actually, I did,” Daisy replied in a dispassionate voice. “She told me there was no way she could hire me.”
Even though he at least had expected as much, he was sure that Grace’s rejection must have hurt. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Daisy shrugged. “It’s her loss. Although—” Daisy puckered her lips as she smoothed on soft pink gloss “—it would have been nice had Grace at least taken the time to glance at my portfolio.”
Doing his best to comfort her, Jack said, “Well, maybe this is best.”
Daisy shot him a look that seemed to say, “You wish.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TOM FOUND GRACE just where Amy had said Grace would be—checking out the house-in-progress on Sullivan’s Island. She looked beautiful, and surprisingly, given the end of her workday, not at all unhappy to see him there. Tom was shocked about that, to say the least. The last time they had seen each other five weeks ago, they had both been tense and angry. Maybe like him, she had mellowed now that she’d had time to cool down and reflect. Lord knew, he didn’t want rancor defining their relationship. They’d come too far, shared too much of life, including their four kids, and the grandchildren on the way, to let that happen. “Scoping out the new house?” Tom asked casually as he walked across the planks that led up to the foundation.
“What brings you out here?” Grace asked with a winsome smile as she turned gentle eyes to his. The wind off the ocean ruffled the short, sexy layers of her golden hair. She put a slender hand up to push it out of her eyes.
She was in such a good mood Tom almost hated to bring it up. Tom walked farther into the shell of the sprawling two-story beach house. It was made of the new concrete and Styrofoam design, and would be, when finished, strong enough to withstand winds in excess of two hundred miles an hour. So, even if the worst were to happen and a hurricane hit the island, Grace’s new home would be here for years to come. “Nick and Amy called me…” Tom walked onto the first floor, admiring the number of windows that had been cut out facing the ocean, giving Grace a spectacular view. “They told me about Daisy’s visit to the television studio today to ask you for a job,” he said as he walked over to the blocked-out kitchen, where Grace was standing. “They said you handled it well, at least on the surface, but Amy could tell you were both upset by the time Daisy left your dressing room.”
Regret clouded Grace’s pretty features. Wearing cotton sport pants that fell to just below her knee, a striped tunic and sneakers, Grace paced the spacious room. “Oh, Tom,” she said in a weary voice. “I was awful to her.”
Tom had feared as much. “What’d she say to you?”
Grace shrugged and walked through the open interior walls, to the dining room. “She just wanted to be considered for the job and I refused to do it.” Grace glanced up, checking out the nine-foot-high ceilings before returning her steady gaze to Tom. “Not because she isn’t talented,” Grace continued with painful honesty. “She really is. But because I didn’t want to look at her and be reminded every day of your infidelity. And I suppose my celebrity ego,” she admitted.
Tom released an empathetic sigh. Who would have thought that one mistake could lead to so many years of hurt for so many people? “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, matching her remorse. “I never meant to hurt either of you, but I did.”
Grace headed for the back staircase and sat down on the second step from the bottom, sadness in her eyes. She scooted over so Tom could sit beside her on the bare wood tread. “Not as much as I’ve hurt myself,” she acknowledged as he settled next to her. She clasped her hands between her bent knees and looked over at him. “I saw myself today, Tom, in Daisy’s eyes, and I didn’t like what I saw.” Grace wrung her hands together and looked even more distressed. “I’ve become bitter, close-minded.”
Tom laced a comforting arm around Grace’s waist, aware what it was like to wake up one day and realize you had turned into what you never wanted to be. “You had good reason to feel resentful.”
“Then,” Grace agreed. “But it’s been years.
And we’ve both moved on.” She shook her head self-effacingly, continued emotionally, “I should be past this.”
“I used to think that, too,” Tom interjected quietly as he let go of Grace and dropped his arm back to his side. “Until the day I saw you fresh out of bed with that young yoga instructor.” Tom paused as the anger and jealousy hit him all over again. “I’m not a violent person.” He forced himself to be as honest as Grace had been with him. “You know that. But I swear to God, I wanted to pummel him with my fists, and I’ve felt that way every time I’ve caught sight of Paulo since. It embarrasses me to admit it, but I can’t picture that feeling ever going away.”
“Paulo and I haven’t seen each other since that morning you found us together,” she told him firmly.
Tom shrugged and admitted in a tortured voice, “It doesn’t make any difference, Grace. I close my eyes, and there it is. You in that robe and nothing else. Paulo in only a towel. Walking down the stairs like he owned the place. I can only imagine how horrible it was for you, finding me en flagrante in Iris’s apartment when we were still married.”
Grace’s eyes glistened. She drew a breath and had to turn away for a second. “Pretty bad.”
Tom reached over and took her hand in his, holding it tightly. “So we’re even now.”
“Except,” Grace said sadly, covering their clasped hands with hers, “I don’t have a child by someone else to deal with. You do. And for the sake of everyone—especially the children you and I share—I’ve got to do better, Tom.” She gripped his hand tightly. “I’ve got to get to know Daisy and be able to look her in the eye and feel warmly toward her because she and our children are siblings. Which is why I’ve decided to give her the job on the show.” Grace disengaged their hands and stood. She braced her slender shoulders accordingly. “I’m going to call her tomorrow and offer it to her myself,” she declared.
Tom studied her face. “You’d do that?”
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