Clear as Glass

by Lynn Kellan

  “In a plastic glass, no less. Put these oxymorons together and we’ll have an interesting restaurant.” He gestured to a table near the window. “Sit with me so we can come up with a name.”

  Surprised by the warm invitation, Jaye followed him to the table.

  He pulled his shoulder-length black hair into a ponytail, securing the long waves with a rubber band. “I’m Roger, by the way.”

  “I know. Thanks for sacrificing your Sunday to attend the meeting,” Jaye said. “I feel awful about asking people to give up part of their weekend, but this was the only time I could be in Syracuse.”

  “Anyone who works for Davis Software knows there are times when it’s a seven-day-a-week job.” He scratched his chin and shrugged. “Listen, there’s something I need to ask. A couple of weeks ago, someone told me you were friends with a record producer in Los Angeles.”

  “Yes.” Familiar caution stole over her lighthearted mood. “We went to college together.”

  Roger pulled an MP-3 player out of his pocket and placed the gadget beside Jaye’s plate. “I play in a band and we’re looking for a producer. Five original songs are on this player. We play old school rock with a strong melody. In return for all the time I’m putting in this weekend, could I ask you to give this demo to your friend?”

  So his friendliness had a purpose. Disappointed there was an angle, Jaye struggled to keep her smile in place. “I’ll give your demo to my friend’s partner. She’s in charge of searching for new talent. I can’t guarantee she’ll like your band, but it’s the best I can do.”

  “Terrific. Thank you.” Roger fixed his gaze on something across the dining room. He flicked a business card on top of the MP-3 player and picked up his plate. “See you around.”

  Just like that, she was by herself. Again. She reached for her cell phone, tempted to pretend some important emails needed attention. Instead, she texted a brief “I miss you” to Mitch.

  A second later, he responded. “I miss you, too. Come back home.”

  Happiness shimmered over her. His simple message was more important than all the emails in her inbox. She kept his text on the screen and ate quietly, no longer alone.

  Late that afternoon, Jaye came to a stunned stop in her mother’s dressing room. Usually, Cecilia Davis looked elegant as an oil portrait when she sat in front of her makeup vanity, but the mirror reflected a different woman in that unguarded moment. Her delicate features were pinched with despondency. “Are you all right, Mom?”

  Cecilia straightened her posture and jerked her gaze toward Jaye. “Yes, of course. I’m very well. Why do you ask?”

  “Just checking.” Jaye studied the polite smile pasted on her mother’s face and hated how they pretended everything was fine. She thought of Mitch, who never let her pretend when he spotted heartache on her face. Every time he got her to talk about what mattered, she felt closer to him. What would happen if she delved deeper with her family? “I’m a little worried, Mom. When you didn’t know I was standing behind your chair, you looked so sad. Even a bit lonely.”

  Cecilia squirted a dollop of lotion into her palms, rubbing the lemon-scented ointment into her hands. “I’m very well. And you?”

  “I’m…fine.” Jaye had a feeling if she pressed for the truth, she’d get the same I’m very well—a polite euphemism for back off.

  Her father strode into the spacious room, his dark business suit in stark contrast to the soothing creams and pinks in the decor. “Jayson, look at this prototype before you leave. The tablet’s software tracks the movement of the user’s eyes. Look at a letter on the alphabet bar and the program will automatically type the text. Touching the screen is no longer necessary. Absolutely brilliant.”

  Jaye took the sleek device and squinted at the glare emanating from the screen. Davis Software was eliminating human touch, a revolutionary—and alarming—development. After holding the gratifying weight of a hand-blown glass in her hand, she knew the virtual world was a cheap substitute for the real thing. “The screen seems a little too bright, Dad.”

  “Our tests proved this was the right brightness for our target market.” He reclaimed the device and stared at the screen on his way out of the room.

  By now Jaye should have been used to not being in his target market, but she wasn’t. She wondered if her mother was tired of being invisible, too. Perhaps if they stormed into her father’s massive closet and threw his suits into the snow, they’d capture his attention. Despite the temptation to do something radical, Jaye knew a juvenile act of rebellion wouldn’t release the pain building in her chest for months. Instead, she chose to shatter the fragile peace imprisoning her for so long. “I don’t think Dad loves me.”

  “What?” Her mother swiveled toward Jaye, producing a started squeak from her pink upholstered chair. “How could you say such a thing?”

  “The truth is painfully obvious.” She tried to unbutton the suit jacket she’d borrowed from her mother, but the opalescent buttons kept slipping through her fingers. “He never says it.”

  A slight frown marred the space between her mother’s perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Says what?”

  “I love you.” Jaye yanked open the jacket, launching a button into the air. The small oval pinged off one of the full-length mirrors and spun on the pristine white carpet. “If he can’t manage those three little words, I’d settle for a ‘Good to see you,’ or even a ‘Nice job, sweetie.’ Who knows? Maybe a brief discussion about football would do the trick, but all we talk about is work.”

  The tension along her mother’s forehead deepened into an uncharacteristic crease. “Your father may not express his emotions, but he loves you.”

  “No, Mom. He doesn’t express his emotions because he doesn’t feel them. Didn’t you hear him talk about the new software? There’s no question he likes the prototype, because he said it was absolutely brilliant. I’ve never heard him boast about me.” Jaye placed the suit jacket on a hanger and looked at her mother. “Does he say how he feels about you?”

  Her mother nudged a bottle of nail polish so the bottom edge stood in a straight line with the other two bottles of classic neutral polish. “After all these years, I don’t need your father to flatter me.”

  Her mother’s response sounded hollow and sad. “I admire your fortitude, Mom. I’m not so strong. I need to hear him say he loves me. I also need to hear him say those words to you.”

  Cecelia smoothed a palm along her chestnut hair, checking the elegant chignon. “Your father has given us everything. We have no right to ask for more.”

  Jaye thought of all the times she’d seen Mitch hug, wrestle, and tickle his brothers. “Do we really have everything, Mom? Sometimes, I feel like we have very little. Compared to most families, we hardly touch or talk.”

  “There are many ways to demonstrate affection.” Cecelia’s dark eyes flicked to Jaye. “Like loyalty.”

  Guilt thudded into Jaye’s stomach, filling the emptiness with the familiar taste of her parents’ stifling expectations. With a quick jerk of her arms, she took off her skirt and stepped into her jeans. The denim felt like a lifeline in this sea of muted beige. “Since we’re on the topic of loyalty, there’s something I want to talk about. I know Dad wants me to marry a man who can contribute to our business, but what if software engineers don’t turn me on?”

  Her mother’s mouth hung open and nothing came out.

  “Let me rephrase my question.” Jaye traded her silk blouse for a sweater, soothed by the slide of soft cotton against her skin. “In a marriage, how important is sex?”

  With a choked noise, Cecelia reached for the glass of water perched beside her hairbrush and gulped a few swallows.

  “Are mutual interests more important than physical attraction? Does great sex make a marriage last? Or friendship?” Jaye paced back and forth, erasing the vacuum tracks in the white carpet. “Should I be looking for a man who’ll run with me every day, or one who makes my body tingle every night? Is lust part of being in love
? Or not?”

  Cecelia placed her drinking glass on the vanity and pressed a palm to her throat.

  Jaye thought her mother looked like she’d just swallowed a goldfish. Perhaps a more specific question would spur conversation along. “Did you feel attracted to Dad when you met him?”

  Her mother blinked. Straightening in her chair, she reached for a jar of face cream. “We…liked each other.”

  “Okay. Good.” Now that Jaye started this topic, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “So, does attraction fade over the years? Or does it rise and ebb? If I want a man, is there any guarantee I’ll feel the same way about him a few months from now? A year or five or ten years from now?”

  The jar’s lid slipped out of her mother’s fingers, clattering into the sink. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You don’t?” Jaye furrowed her fingers through the short silk of her hair in frustration. “Please try, Mom. Who else can I talk to about this? I doubt Dad wants to discuss sex.”

  “Heavens, no.” Her mother gripped the edge of her vanity. “He’d have kittens if you broached this subject.”

  Jaye let out a choked laugh. Here she was, laying her heart bare, and all her mother worried about was upsetting her father. “I met a man, Mom. A good man. He has no idea how to write code. In fact, he could shatter Dad’s tablet with one blow from his bare fist.”

  Her mother’s hand covered her heart, crumpling the peach silk blouse. “You’re dating a boxer?”

  “No, he’s just big and strong. At first, he looks like a drill sergeant but he’s got an amazing smile. Everyone loves him, for good reason. He cares about the people in his life. He’s talented, funny, and kind.” Just talking about Mitch made her happy. “Best of all, he likes me just the way I am. To him, I’m just a girl.”

  Cecelia’s brows drew together. “He doesn’t know who you are?”

  A twinge of guilt tightened her chest. “I haven’t told him everything yet. I wanted him to get to know me and not…this.” She gestured to the tastefully designed room that was supposed to be a sanctuary but felt like a prison.

  Her mother’s hands folded on her lap, her slender back stiff. “Are things getting serious with this man?”

  “Yes, I think so.” She couldn’t stop the smile from tilting her mouth. “He wants to continue seeing me, even when I move to Syracuse.”

  “How long have you been dating?”

  “About a week.” Her attraction began the moment she first looked into his eyes and had grown with every moment they spent together.

  “You hardly know the man.” Her mother rose, smoothing her pale linen skirt with a brisk flick of her palms. “Be careful, Jaye. You have too much to lose if you end up with the wrong man.”

  “Relationships shouldn’t be based on what’s good for our business. This time around, I’m letting my heart choose—and I’m happy.” Jaye thought of what she saw every time Mitch’s slate blue gaze met hers. “He looks at me like I’m the only thing he cares about.”

  Her mother grew as pale as the white damask curtains. “Who is he?”

  If Jaye offered Mitch’s name, she knew her parents would put him through a series of security checks to dig into his past. Private investigators would write lengthy reports about his broken engagement, the rocky partnership with his father, and his estranged mother. As soon as her parents discovered Mitch made his living with his hands instead of his head, they’d assume he didn’t possess the acumen to step into the inner circle of Davis Software. Mitch would be labeled inappropriate long before her parents met him in person. “Trust me, Mom. I can identify a good man when I meet one.”

  “What does he do for a living?” Cecelia tipped her head toward the Wall Street Journal folded on the damask chaise lounge. “Does he understand the pressures associated with running an international business?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather know what kind of man he is?” Frustration tightened her body and Jaye fisted her hands. “He doesn’t lie. He means what he says. And if he promises you something, he keeps his word. Other men pale in comparison.”

  “Few men can understand the obligations you face. Even fewer possess the charisma to speak at fundraisers, smooth ruffled egos, or handle the spotlight.” Cecelia strode toward Jaye and stopped just out of arm’s reach. “What happened to David? He’s perfect for you.”

  If Jaye had to listen to a list of David’s shining attributes, she’d scream. “He cheated on me.”

  “What?” Cecelia’s arched brows drew into an angry frown.

  “He’s not as perfect as he seems.” Jaye packed her skirt in the leather satchel by her feet. “I broke up with him two months ago.”

  Cecilia’s gaze shifted to the door. “Does your father know?”

  “No, but if Dad has been paying attention, he knows David drinks too much, can’t admit when he’s wrong, and says one thing when he means another.” In contrast, Mitch never got drunk, admitted his faults, and said what he meant. “Forget David. I’ve found a better man.”

  Cecilia’s graceful hand tightened over the upholstered back of the chaise. “Don’t allow yourself to be swept away by a sudden infatuation.”

  “Yes, I know.” A gush of anger prompted Jaye to zip her bag closed with one brutal yank. “Every day, you and Dad set a perfect example of how work is more important than love.” With a quick turn, she gazed at her mother. “Don’t you wish Dad would put away his stupid computer and look at you? Aren’t you more important than a prototype?”

  Her mother’s porcelain skin flushed a dull red. “Our company supports thousands of families. Nothing is more important.”

  “What’s more important than love?” Jaye strode toward the chaise in a foggy haze of hurt and anger. Memories billowed of the times she used to run into her mother’s graceful arms as a child until the monolithic shadow of Davis Software drove a wedge between them. Jaye wanted—no, needed—to step out of the gloom. She hugged her mother’s slender shoulders, swallowing a sharp pang of emotion when a familiar lemony scent filled her nose. “I’m tired of treating our business like it’s more important than us. I love you, Mom.”

  Cecilia pulled out of the embrace, covered her mouth with a shaking hand, and strode out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mitch waited until after church to show up at Brad’s house. The pastor’s admonition to love thy neighbor rang in his ears, easing the urge to throttle Brad’s neck. Barely.

  Loosening his tie, he pounded on the door and stared at the lion’s head knocker. The brass face was frozen in mid-roar, but the open mouth looked more like a yawn. The artist inside him recognized the poor sculpting job. Narrowing the jaws and adding a menacing curl to the animal’s upper lip would turn the fixture into something truly intimating.

  The door opened, swinging away the sleepy lion. Brad stepped into view and dropped his gaze to Mitch’s dark suit. “Did somebody die?”

  “No, but my patience did. Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure. Come in.” Brad led him into a living room and muted the football pregame show on the television. “What’s up?”

  “Tara showed up at my house last night, made a scene, and pushed Jaye to the ground.”

  Brad’s mouth dropped open. “She what?”

  “You heard me.” Mitch crossed his arms over his chest. “Tara said you told her about me and Jaye. What, exactly, did you say to piss her off?”

  “Nothing. When I saw her a couple of days ago, I heard her say that she wanted you to ask her out.” Brad hitched his hands on his hips and shrugged. “After I saw you with Jaye, I knew you wouldn’t be interested in dating anyone else. I told Tara you were already seeing someone. Thought I’d stop her from getting her hopes up.”

  Mitch worked hard to tamp down the anger bubbling in his bloodstream. “A part of me wonders if you were trying to drive a wedge between me and Jaye so you’d have a crack at her.”

  Brad pushed his dark hair from his forehead and blew out a sigh. “Much
as I’d like to date Jaye, I can’t. She’s off limits. I thought she looked familiar when I saw her at Phil’s house, but I couldn’t place her until I caught up on my reading this morning and saw a picture of her in the Syracuse news. She’s my client’s daughter. He hired me to design their new computer lab in Syracuse. He owns Davis Software.”

  “Davis Software?” Mitch felt his pulse jump, jarred not by his morning cup of coffee but surprise. “That’s a helluva lot bigger than a small family business.”

  Brad handed his computer tablet to Mitch. “Here, check out this picture. There’s Jaye, standing next to her parents. They attended some fundraiser last weekend.”

  The caption below the photograph read Simon Davis entrusts his philanthropy projects to his wife, who ensures their business is known for good works, as well as cutting edge technology. A shock of disbelief splintered Mitch’s body. He read on. Jaye Davis is preparing to take a full-time position in her father’s firm to spearhead a partnership with Cruz Technologies.

  “Cruz Technologies? She quit working for them weeks ago.” Mitch wondered aloud, handing the device back to Brad. “Why would she want to collaborate with that company?”

  “Because her father is developing some new software with Cruz. Better to have them as a partner than a competitor. Jaye went to college with the son of the guy who owns Cruz. They’ll be working together when she joins her father’s firm.”

  Suddenly, Mitch remembered Jaye’s plea when she begged him not to pry into her private life. Let me pretend my life isn’t complicated for a few more weeks.

  His pulse pinged against his right temple. “What’s the name of the guy she’ll work with?”

  “Uh, let me check. They mention him in this article.” Flicking his finger across the tablet, Brad scanned the screen. “Oh, here we go. David Butler.”

  “I figured.” Mitch’s jaw clenched tight. No wonder Jaye wanted him to stop digging for information. She wasn’t running away from her ex, after all. Turns out, she was running right back to him.