by Dara Girard
“It’s okay not to want to get out there again, dear, but you can’t be on the shore too long or all the big fish will be taken.”
“But I don’t want a big fish or even a little one. I’m really not interested in men right now.”
Mrs. Ashford placed a hand on her chest and shut her eyes. “Oh, you young people are so dramatic. Soon you’ll be saying you’ll never love again.” She opened her eyes. “Don’t worry. In time this will all be a memory.”
Kenneth would be more than a memory to her. He was her heart. “Of course.” Jessie stood. “I really must go. Thank you for your time and advice.”
Mrs. Ashford rose also and pinched Jessie’s cheek. “I always give out both freely.”
Jessie rubbed her cheek as she walked to her car. Mrs. Ashford was a nut, but she couldn’t help being fond of her.
* * *
The Weaver’s had a swimming party. Jessie hated those. She hated the sight of people dripping wet, calling her over to serve them while they lazed in the Jacuzzi or laid out their sculpted bodies—both man- made and natural—in the garden loungers, some snapping their fingers as if she were a pet. At least she was busy, it was better than being at home and thinking. Fortunately, the day was cool so she wasn’t forced to melt in her uniform. The Weaver’s loved “the help” to be fully dressed while serving, which meant no shorts or short sleeves despite the weather.
“Well...look who’s here. What a surprise!” Deborah said. “Now what do we have here?” She surveyed the contents on the tray. “Looks delicious. Does it have any paprika? I’m allergic.” She turned to Tracy and said in a low voice, “I’ll break out everywhere.”
“No,” Jessie said.
“Good.” She took a stuffed mushroom and popped it in her mouth.
Deborah wore a red swimsuit with a yellow wrap and a matching scarf tied around her hair. “I was so shocked to hear about your engagement ending so suddenly and so soon.” She fluttered her lashes in mock dismay. “One day you’re hosting a barbecue and the next day ‘poof’ it’s all over.”
Jessie watched a man dive into the pool.
“And you had to move all your bags out. What a shame.” She ate another mushroom.
Tracy flashed a weak smile. “Come on Deborah, leave her alone.”
“I saw him with a new woman recently. Let me think who it was.” She tapped her cheek. “Oh yes, that’s right. Your Cousin Olivia. They make a beautiful couple. You should see them together.” She leaned closer to Jessie and whispered in her ear. “You didn’t really think you were fooling anyone, did you? Sure you had the decent clothes, and the nice haircut, but underneath it all you were still just a nobody.”
“Kind of like you,” Jessie said. “Somebody who wastes her time only talking about interesting people rather than being one.”
“At least I get invited to all the major events as a guest. I bet your sister’s wedding was just a publicity stunt.”
Jessie held out her tray. “Would you like another?”
“No tart reply?” Deborah sniffed surprised, taking another mushroom. “No flare up of the Clifton temper? You must be mellowing or just finally realizing your place in life.”
“Yes.” Jessie lifted the tray and waved it under Deborah’s nose. “By the way I lied. There is paprika.” She laughed at Deborah’s expression then walked away.
* * *
Kenneth prided himself on being calm, but the article in The Journal made him want to smash something. His name was being connected with scandal. A priceless bracelet had been stolen the day of his summer barbecue, throwing a shroud of suspicion over his guests. Which one had done it? Why? When? He crumbled up the paper and tossed it in the fireplace. He had a good idea who knew the answer.
* * *
“But I didn’t steal anything!” Syrah said.
Kenneth rested his hands on the kitchen table. “Mrs. Ostick told me how nice it was that you returned her broach.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He kept his voice low. “Stop lying to me.”
“I didn’t steal anything at the barbecue! I swear.”
He folded his arms.
“I can’t believe you don’t trust me!”
“Have you given me reason to? You stole when you promised you wouldn’t. I have an awards banquet coming up honoring kids who help the community. How do you think it will look if people find out my niece, a Preston, steals things? I can’t afford that kind of scandal.”
Syrah narrowed her eyes. “You’re not sending me back.”
“No, but I know of good schools that may cure you of this habit.”
“You’re not sending me away. I won’t let you!” She pushed herself away from the table. The chair screeched as it scraped across the floor. “I don’t need you or anybody. I can take care of myself.” She stormed to the door.
Kenneth grabbed her arm before she reached it. She turned around and punched him in the face.
Shock disarmed any pain he might have felt. He could only stare at her. She stared back wide eyed and terrified, with her body poised to strike again. Kenneth knew the look: he’d worn it before.
“Relax, Ace.” He kept his voice even. “I just want to talk.”
Tears sprung to her eyes, a mixture of relief and dismay. She broke free from his grasp and ran.
* * *
Michelle was enjoying her afternoon tea when she heard loud voices in the main lobby. Syrah burst into the room followed by her secretary who said, “I’m sorry, Michelle, I couldn’t stop her.”
She smiled at the woman. “That’s all right.”
Her secretary scowled at the girl then shut the door.
Michelle put her tea aside. “What’s wrong?”
Syrah rushed through her words. “I hit my uncle and the bracelet’s missing, but I didn’t take it and I couldn’t find Aunt Jessie or Aunt Teresa and he’s going to send me away and I don’t know what to do.” She fell into a chair and sobbed.
Michelle grabbed a box of tissues and waited for the tears to subside. She sat down next to Syrah and squeezed her knee. “Okay, let’s try this again. What happened?”
“I punched Uncle Kenneth.” She pressed her palms against her eyes. “I didn’t mean to, I was just so mad. Now he hates me.”
“I’m sure he understood it was an accident.”
She let her hands fall. “He hates me. He hates me for making Aunt Jessie go away and he wants to get rid of me. He thinks I stole the bracelet.”
“What bracelet?”
“The one missing in the paper. They think it was stolen the day of Uncle’s party and he blames me, but I didn’t steal it, Aunt Michelle. I swear. But he won’t believe me because I stole a broach from Mrs. Ostick and returned it for the reward and she told him. But that was a long time ago and I haven’t taken anything since. I have to find out who did steal the bracelet so he’ll believe me.
“It sounds like the same bracelet I gave to Aunt Jessie but now it’s gone because...” She hesitated unsure how much to reveal in case she didn’t believe her. “I lost it when Aunt Jessie left it behind. I need your help. Please.” She held her hands together as if in prayer. “Please, I don’t want him to send me away, but I know he wants to. He probably should because I punched him and I told him I didn’t need anyone. And he said that everyone’s going to blame him if they find out I steal things. He thinks I’m going to ruin his life. Everything is awful and its all my fault.”
“It’s all right,” Michelle soothed. “Tell me everything from the beginning. The truth, starting with Jessie’s bracelet.”
“I did steal it,” she admitted. “It was real easy slipping it off Ms. Radson’s wrist. I did everything Dad taught me.”
Michelle stiffened. “Your father taught you how to steal?”
“It wasn’t like real lessons or anything. He was just bragging. He knew a lot about jewelry and would talk about it and I picked up things. Like I can tell your ring’s expensive. Emera
lds with a pure color like that are valuable. It has only a slight bluish-green.”
Michelle nodded. “Correct.”
She grinned pleased with herself. “He’d talk about different gemstones and diamonds. He made it sound interesting and then he started bragging about when he was younger. He said he had been the best thief around and then he’d show me what he did.”
Michelle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, keeping her voice neutral. “Did he tell you why he stole?”
“Oh yea. He said he had to teach this girl he called Dimples a lesson ‘cause she thought she was the moon and the sky; the bun and the cheese.”
Michelle took a deep breath. Dimples. That’s what some of the guys used to call Brooke. “I want you to tell me everything your father told you about her and what he used to do.”
Once Syrah explained everything, Michelle phoned Teresa to pick her up. Then she called her secretary. “Please see if Stephanie Radson is free for lunch.”
* * *
The banquet hall for Kenneth’s award’s dinner was a large dome-shaped room with the grandeur of a cathedral, but the warmth of an estate. Jessie wasn’t sure she wanted to be there, but curiosity was a powerful drug. She wanted to see Kenneth again. She wanted to see how Olivia would look on his arm, hoping that he was happy even though she was miserable.
News cameras and photographers filled the room aiming their lens on the mayor and top community officials who had come to commend the project Kenneth had funded for young people—an after school program that acted as a surrogate family for neglected children aged five to eighteen. The twenty young people selected today had helped the community by volunteering at animal shelters and visiting homebound residents.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Wendy whispered.
“Why not?”
“I’ve seen two photographers take pictures of you.”
Jessie shrugged. “They wanted to know if the rumors were true.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“I heard the mayor is going to give Kenneth an award.”
Jessie sniffed. “He doesn’t need another trophy telling him how wonderful he is. He doesn’t believe it anyway.”
The lights dimmed and they both watched Kenneth approach the stage, a commanding figure in a gray cashmere sweater and dark blue suit. He looked good, so together, she felt her insides falling to pieces.
Jessie heard Wendy softly sigh and said, “Cut that out.”
“That wasn’t me, it’s them.” She gestured to Carole and Amy who were staring at the stage as though a favorite teen idol had appeared.
Kenneth rested his hands on the podium and began to speak. His powerful voice gathered everyone’s attention. “I would first like to thank you for coming tonight to honor the young men and women who have taken the time to enhance our community through their efforts. Let me take this opportunity to introduce them to you.”
He began to read off their names, handing each child a trophy and whispering something special in their ear. Each recipient glowed as they exited the stage.
Jessie felt her regret subside. She couldn’t have been his wife, couldn’t have worn his family’s mask, because she did not understand the need for it. But she knew he wasn’t a fraud. He was a man who had tried to carve out an existence free from the one society wanted to pin on him. He had accomplished that.
After the last young person had received an award, the mayor approached the podium with a plaque.
“Now it is my distinct pleasure to give this humanitarian award to a man who not only gives the community jobs, offers solace to the lonely and activities to the young, but continues to set an example for all of us. Please help me in honoring Kenneth Preston.”
He looked embarrassed, but received the award with grace and elegance. “I accept this award if only to show young people what they can aspire to and achieve.” Thunderous applause followed his simple statement.
* * *
He was glad it was over. The room looked hollow now, most of the lights were off and he heard the shuffling footsteps of the cleaning crew. Kenneth looked down at the wine glass he held, it had been given to him during a toast. He touched the liquid and rubbed it between his fingers. He wondered what it was like. Wondered what the allure was that drove men to destroy themselves like the Sirens calling sailors to their doom. He swirled the golden liquid imagining how it would taste: sweet, bitter, dry? Would it truly, for a moment, ease his pain, ease his memories; ease the hollowness as Eddie said? Could one drink really be terrible?
“Don’t you dare,” a voice ordered.
He spun around, placed the glass down and looked into Jessie’s fiery eyes. An unexpected jolt of desire and longing rendered him speechless as his eyes swallowed her up. God, she looked beautiful. He wanted to tell her what his father had said, talk to her about his company, and ask her advice on Syrah who hadn’t spoken to him in three days. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, tell her how much he loved her, beg her to come back to him, but all that came to his mouth was, “What are you doing here?”
Jessie rested a hand on her hip. “Do you notice we’re back where we started? I see how familiarity does breed contempt.”
No, he silently disagreed. They weren’t back where they had started. They were both different people now.
“I see you decided to get a tux that fits,” he said, trying to maintain a casual tone. He folded his arms to refrain from touching her.
“Yes, I decided fitted wasn’t so bad.”
“Shame you couldn’t do something with your hair.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to provoke me?”
“Sure. I could use a good slap.”
“I wouldn’t dare. You’d have good reason to hit me back.”
He lowered his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I forgot.”
He shoved his hands in his pocket. “Do you have a moment?”
“Sorry, I left it in my other jacket.”
He groaned. “If your singing is as bad as your jokes, I’m glad you saved me the agony.”
“What do you want?”
“I didn’t really get a chance to eat.”
She sighed. “Let me see what I can do. Wait here.” She walked away then stopped. She returned to the table and grabbed the wineglass.
Kenneth laughed. “I wasn’t going to drink it.”
Jessie only sniffed. A few moments later she came back with a plate full of food and apple juice. She placed the plate in front of him with expert aplomb, going so far as to place a napkin on his lap. Once her performance was over she turned to go.
“It’s no fun to eat alone,” he said.
“Kenneth, I can’t—”
“Please,” he said gently.
She sat.
An awful, painful silence fell between them. Jessie watched him eat, looking at his hands and his mouth, remembering the first time he’d kissed her, the moment she felt she belonged to him. She brushed those thoughts aside.
“How’s Olivia?” she asked.
He nodded. “She’s fine.”
“Do you like her? She’s—”
“Don’t insult me. Or yourself.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Why?” His eyes burned into hers. “So you won’t feel sorry for me? Did you suddenly realize you deserve better than a man who’s half a freak show?”
“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” She lowered her voice. “You know why I can’t marry you.”
“You mean won’t marry me.”
Jessie clenched her hand into a fist. “I will not marry a man who’ll sacrifice everything for just a name.”
“What am I without my name? Nothing! If I hadn’t been Kenneth Preston you wouldn’t have been interested in me in the first place. No, don’t shake your head like that. You and I both know the name means something. It’s all I have and no matter how much I—” He bit his lip and abruptly stood. “
If you don’t understand that you don’t understand me.”
She also stood and grabbed his arm. “I do understand. That’s why I can’t be with you.”
They had nothing more to say, but neither moved.
“I don’t know what hurts more,” he finally said. “Being with you or being away from you.”
Jessie hugged herself and looked down. Kenneth made a move towards her, then stopped. She closed her eyes as she listened to his footsteps fading away.
* * *
Jessie didn’t cry when she got home. She went into her father’s studio and touched all his things to gather strength from his memory.
She remembered her father and his shy grins, his infectious laugh and dreamy eyes. She remembered the way he used to get on her mother’s nerves so that they could make up later. She remembered her mother—now with fondness instead of guilt—a woman who bristled at bad manners, created elaborate dinners as if expecting royalty, and scolded her children with tears in her eyes.
Jessie rested her head against the gray stone wall. All of a sudden, she felt a stone shift from the weight. She stared at the moved stone for a moment her heart pounding with anticipation. She moved it aside and saw a small hiding place. Inside sat a black box. It looked familiar. No, it couldn’t be. She remained still waiting for it to disappear like a hallucination. It didn’t.
Her fingers tingled as she grabbed the box and opened it. She carefully removed the cloth surrounding the object inside. Her heart stopped when a sapphire eye winked back at her: The Sapphire Pendant. Her fingers caressed the rope-chain as her ancestors once had, feeling its special allure. The pendant was here. Her father had owned it all the time!
Fury nearly strangled her. Rage crawled up her skin and heated her eyes. He’d lied to them. He’d made them suffer. Made her suffer with guilt never easing her pain with the truth. Him and his stupid stories of power and magic. The pendant was nothing but a piece of stone that at that moment she would have loved to see melted or crushed.
Jessie stared at the sapphire eye, its beauty penetrating some of her anger and her bitterness. Here it was. The fabled pendant. In the Clifton possession where it belong. She scoffed at the words then suddenly stared at it in horror.