Clear as Glass

by Lynn Kellan

  “Okay, fine. I understand the sacrifices that come with running a family business. Believe me, I do.” He came close, turning off the faucet with one twist of the knob. “Given I’m in a similar situation, why didn’t you tell me your predicament? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

  “Here you go again, talking about the truth.” She wrung out the sponge with a brutal squeeze. “Hasn’t your obsession with the truth ruined most of your relationships? Frankly, I can’t figure out why you keep asking for explanations when you refuse to believe anyone else’s version of events is valid.”

  “That’s a helluva generalization.”

  The sharp clip in his words fanned her temper. “You wouldn’t even let your mother explain why she left.”

  The vein along his temple bulged. “Shouldn’t we talk about us, not her?”

  “She’s one reason we’re in this mess. Had she not been wealthy enough to walk away and start over, your mother might’ve been forced to work things out with your father. And you.” Stopping the charade of cleaning, Jaye dried her hands. “When I realized you had good reason to resent her wealth, how could I tell you about mine?”

  Mitch sucked in a gulp of air. Propping his fist on the kitchen counter, he looked away.

  The averted gaze was a clear sign he didn’t want to hear more, but now that she’d started talking, she couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry for not telling you who I was, but I just wanted to be me. This job was the last time I could pretend I was just a girl. When people learn I’m Simon Davis’s daughter, they think I’m different. They assume since I’m filthy rich, I don’t need anything. They believe they can’t give me anything I already have.”

  The color drained out of his face. “I said every single one of those things.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “David understood, which is why my relationship with him is so complicated. The man who betrayed me happens to be the one person who understands my situation better than anyone else. His family is as wealthy as mine.”

  Placing the dishtowel on the counter, she walked toward the back door and took her blazer off the coat hook. The final day of her contract loomed like a thundercloud above, throwing everything into shadow. Ending her relationship with Mitch should’ve made leaving easier, but sharp nails of despair scraped her spine. The lonely part of her still longed for him—the man who was drawn to her, not her money. Unable to stop herself, she looked over her shoulder to memorize how great he looked standing next to his kitchen sink.

  He drew the back of his hand across his mouth. “You never meant to stay, right?”

  “I can’t. I promised my father I’d come home.”

  Understanding dawned in his eyes. “You promised to help my father, even when I tried my damnedest to discourage you. I know, better than anyone, that you never go back on your word.”

  Pain clamped around her belly, unexpected and intense. “My word is the only thing I have that’s all mine. I intend to keep it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Empty paper plates smeared with chocolate icing littered the large oval table parked in the center of Blake Glassware’s conference room. Jaye gave Sarah one last hug, savoring the way her friend’s pregnant belly felt against her flat one. “Thanks for putting up for me for the past four weeks.”

  “Wish I could put up with you for many more.” Sarah held Jaye at arm’s length. “Will you come back to see my daughter after she’s born?”

  Longing tightened the back of Jaye’s throat. “I’d love to.”

  Sarah’s eyes glistened. “Would you take her picture, too?”

  “Of course.” Jaye glanced at Veronica, who stood by the door of the conference room.

  “I hate goodbyes,” Veronica admitted with a gruff snarl. “Give me a hug before I do something really embarrassing, like burst into tears.”

  “Heaven forbid if anyone around here gets the idea you’re a softie,” Sarah teased.

  Jaye squeezed Veronica around the shoulders. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

  “You need to come back so I can win some more money,” Veronica complained. “I still haven’t made enough to buy a new set of dishes.”

  Jaye grinned. A new set of dishes was already sitting on Veronica’s front porch. Sarah had a similar surprise waiting—a new stroller stuffed with baby clothes. Those gifts were Jaye’s way of thanking these wonderful women for taking her into their hearts out of pure friendship. “I’ll come back, but I’m not guaranteeing you’ll win anything from me.”

  “You’d better get going. The drive to Syracuse will take hours. We’ll clean up.”

  “Thanks for the goodbye party.” Everyone from the factory had stopped by to say farewell, except for one person.

  Sarah slid a glance toward the hallway. “Will you see Mitch before you go?”

  Jaye didn’t want to face the painful reality of saying goodbye, but leaving without one last glance into his eyes would hurt even more. “Where is he?”

  “Try the studio.” Veronica sighed. “He always ends up there when he’s miserable.”

  By the conference room’s threshold, Jaye hesitated. “Take care of him for me.”

  “We will.”

  She took her time getting to the studio, lingering to look into her small office one last moment. The room looked bare after she’d removed Mitch’s map from the wall. His drawing was carefully stored in her suitcase, ready to go with her. Too bad she couldn’t take everyone from Blake Glassware, too. Strolling down the hall, she glanced into Nick’s office. In the lobby, she tipped her gaze to the vaulted ceiling and remembered watching the helium balloon float up into the rafters. Near the studio’s steel door, Jaye stopped by one of the vivid paintings hanging on the wall. She studied the swirl of color, gathering her courage.

  This last goodbye would be the most difficult.

  She opened the steel door. No matter how often she came into the studio, she never got used to the wave of heat and sound when she walked inside. Not spotting anyone in the cavernous room, Jaye remembered Mitch had an office tucked between the studio and shipping. With a determined stride, she headed down a hallway leading toward the back of the building.

  His office looked more like an art studio than an executive’s suite. Steel shelving along one wall contained glass sculptures, stemware, and tableware that glistened in the dim light radiating from the desk lamp.

  Unlike his father’s desk, the surface of Mitch’s desk was neat and in order. His empty inbox sat at the corner and his computer screen was blank. The only unusual item on the desk was a clay sculpture.

  She walked forward to get a better look and recognized the unmistakable shape of a woman draped on a couch. The figure slept on her belly with a knee pulled up, a bare foot hanging off the edge of the cushion. The hem of an oversized sweatshirt skimmed the curve of her butt and her face was half buried under an arm. Jaye took a closer look and cold shock splashed into her chest, hanging icicles on her lungs. She was staring at herself asleep on Mitch’s couch, the way he’d found her right before they kissed.

  Had he crafted this sculpture to remember that night?

  This must have been what Phil wanted her to see when he urged her to visit Mitch’s office. She lifted her gaze to Mitch, who stood beside a window. Just the sight of him shot a throb of want into her empty heart. “Did you make this?”

  He nodded and glanced at something behind her.

  Jaye looked over her shoulder at a large tablet of drawing paper propped on an easel. Were there drawings of her hidden beneath the scuffed cover? She’d never know. Grief stuck in her throat, thick and poignant. “You blow glass, sculpt, and draw. What else can you do?”

  “Is that why you’re here? To talk about my art?”

  She resisted the urge to pretend. Lately, the truth felt so much better. “Forgive me. I’m a little nervous. When you didn’t show up to say goodbye, I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me. I couldn’t leave without saying thank you.”

  “
For what?”

  “Well, for rescuing me when I had a flat tire and for allowing me to stay at your house. For not kicking me out when I told you I was a Patriots fan. For not getting annoyed when I almost spit cheese on your lasagna and couldn’t stop laughing. For tolerating my experiments every time I dreamed up a way to get you and your father together. For letting me take pictures of you.” Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath. “For showing me how to talk about what really matters.”

  The muscles in his neck worked in a deep swallow. “What would have happened if we hadn’t fought, Jaye? What if I hadn’t said such awful things? Would you’ve let me come see you this weekend?”

  Fighting off the urge to cry, she looked down at the concrete floor. “A long-distance relationship isn’t possible, Mitch. For the next few months, I have to work seven days a week. We wouldn’t have had any time to see one another.”

  “Not to mention that even though we share a number of similarities, there are big differences.” He leaned against the window sill. “You work with your head, I work with my hands. You travel all over the place, I stay in one spot. You process things quietly, I talk things out.”

  “We’re trapped.” She acknowledged, her insides twisting in misery. “Neither of us can leave our family’s businesses.”

  “Another similarity,” he observed grimly.

  Their similarities should’ve rattled her, but their differences ripped her apart. Tired of processing everything inside the confines of her lonely heart, she longed for someone who’d reach into her solitary abyss. This man was the only one who ever had. Jaye let a beat of silence pass before she said the words she’d been dreading. “Goodbye, Mitch.”

  A subtle flinch shook his shoulders. His sensual mouth flattened into a hard line and his blue eyes held hers.

  His gaze looked muddled with pain as though his arm was still slashed open. Jaye fought the urge to caress his smooth cheek and kiss his tense mouth, but giving into those sensual delights would only prolong her anguish.

  Fishing in her blazer’s pocket, she removed a photograph and placed it on his desk. The glossy picture captured her sitting in Mitch’s lap—taken by Phil a short time ago. She smiled sadly at the image. With their arms twined around one another, the two of them looked so happy.

  Mitch glanced at the picture and grabbed her wrist, opening her hand with a gentle swipe of his smoke-stained thumb. He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss just above the heel of her thumb.

  The gesture seemed a fitting way to end, just as they began.

  “’Bye, pixie.”

  Jaye trailed her fingertips along his hard jaw and closed her hand to hold onto the memory of what his warm mouth felt like against her skin. With any luck, his last kiss would sustain her while she lived with the sharp, keening sense of loss she carried out of Blake Glassware.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  In the sleek executive offices nestled in the corner of Davis Software’s headquarters, Jaye felt like a drone, wired together by chips and circuits rather than flesh and blood. No one had touched her since Mitch’s goodbye kiss seven days ago, which was probably a good thing. Having no distractions meant she could devote every minute of the past week finishing a report for her father. After downloading the document to an electronic tablet, she walked to his office suite.

  She buttoned her gray blazer, smoothed her skirt, and swept her bangs to the side to make sure she looked neat and professional. Meeting her father always made her feel on edge, like she was being sent to the Principal’s office.

  The plush carpet silenced the tap of her heels. She offered a smile to his secretary, who gave a short nod in return. The cold greeting made her miss Veronica’s loud laughter and Sarah’s jokes. A cramp of sadness pierced her side when she thought about the raucous poker games and chatty lunches they’d shared.

  Her father strode out of his office with his cell phone pressed to his ear. “There’s something wrong with the kitchen faucet. Call the plumber.” He ended the call without a goodbye and slipped the cell phone into his suit jacket.

  Jaye felt a spike of shock at his rudeness. “Were you talking to Mom?”

  “Who else would I ask to call the plumber?”

  “Good point. Here is the report for the Dominion project. I don’t think the software will appeal to a large segment of consumers. More market analysis is merited.” Jaye extended the electronic tablet. Her finger touched his hand.

  He quickly shifted his grip, took the tablet, and paged through the report with brusque swipes across the screen.

  Jaye watched the light from the device flicker across his stern features. He hadn’t always been so forbidding. When she was younger, he’d smiled more often. No doubt, the stress of running an international software business left little time for pleasure. “Do you want to go out to dinner tonight? We could pick Mom up on the way.”

  His dark gaze stayed on the tablet screen. “Your mother has a fundraiser tonight.”

  “Oh. Why don’t you and I go? There’s a nice sports bar a few miles from home. We could watch the Thursday night football game and eat some wings.”

  He grimaced. “I’d rather not clog my arteries.”

  Her chest tightened. For years, she’d been longing for a closer relationship. Why hold back her feelings? Even though her parents rarely expressed affection, Jaye knew those tender feelings existed. If she had to be the first one to vocalize them, so be it. “I love you, Dad. Let’s spend a little time together and not talk about business.”

  “With two acquisitions looming and a number of software releases approaching, I can’t afford to relax. Neither can you.” He handed back the tablet. “You’re wrong about Dominion. I’m pushing the program into production.” With a frown at his watch, he headed toward the state-of-the-art conference room down the hallway.

  Dread sank sharp teeth into her heart. Big events had always shaped her life—graduating from college summa cum laude, winning a large consulting contract for Cruz Technologies, agreeing to helm the Davis Software’s Chi Omega project just to name a few—but little, inconsequential events over the past seven days had made her life intolerable. The temporary living arrangements in her parents’ home gave her a front row seat to her father’s arrogance and her mother’s closed-off stoicism. At work, she’d invited several colleagues to lunch and they were all too busy to accept. To top things off, she’d spent seven days preparing a report her father dismissed without reading. Her recommendations meant nothing. What a waste of time.

  Jaye had kept her word. She’d done everything her parents asked. She’d taken the steps to shoulder responsibility for Davis Software, but her father’s snubs and her mother’s antipathy made one thing clear—she wasn’t wanted. If she stayed, she’d become as soulless as the electronic tablets perched on every desk in the building.

  Pivoting on one black heel, she strode into her office, snatched a yellow legal pad, and wrote her resignation letter the old-fashioned way—by hand, in ballpoint ink. Important things, like this declaration of independence, were best done in hard copy. Writing out the words on yellow, lined paper guaranteed her decision couldn’t be deleted with a careless press of a button. Her parents would have concrete evidence she was steering the direction of her life from now on.

  With a determined thrust, she deposited the resignation letter in her father’s inbox. He’d find it when he brought his paperwork home this evening.

  In two weeks, she’d be free. For the first time in her life, she had no idea what tomorrow would bring. The notion was terrifyingly exciting. Her past would always belong to her parents, but her present and future belonged only to her.

  Before she could begin, she had one last chapter to close on her past. Jaye slid her cell phone out of her pocket, closed her office door, and called David.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Mitch stared at the brick mansion’s black-lacquered front door and felt a heavy weight thud into his gut. For seven days, he’d tried to move on
without Jaye and flubbed spectacularly. He wasn’t used to such abysmal failure. For the first time in his life, he needed someone more than he needed anything else.

  Needing her didn’t scare him.

  Living without her did.

  He jabbed the doorbell and listened to the chimes echo inside the house.

  The door swung open and the bright light from the porch’s massive lantern illuminated a tall man in a dark suit. The distinguished features and raven hair belonged to Simon Davis.

  Dark eyes scowled at Mitch’s red T-shirt and jeans. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Mitch Blake. I spoke to your wife a few hours ago. She’s expecting me.”

  “Fine. Come in.” Simon opened the door wider and gestured toward an arched opening at the back of the elegant foyer. “The kitchen faucet is leaking. The constant dripping is driving me crazy. Think you can fix it?”

  Not expecting such a request, Mitch frowned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Follow me.” Simon Davis led him into a sprawling kitchen.

  The marble countertop, sparkling chandelier, and massive stainless steel range gave Mitch an uncanny sense of déjà vu. This place looked a lot like his grandparents’ house, who’d made a fortune in real estate.

  Simon pointed to the offending faucet. “Rip the damned thing out and install a new one if you have to.”

  Mitch studied the fixture. “Hm. Looks brand new.”

  “Yes. It was installed last week. Been dripping ever since.” Long fingers drummed on the counter. “Do you need any tools?”

  “I’ve got some in my truck.” Happy to do something with his hands to release some tension, Mitch trailed his fingers along the faucet’s curved neck. Finding no cracks, he unscrewed the nozzle with a deft twist. A variety of small pebbles bounced into the sink. “Looks like a bunch of sediment clogged the spout. Not unusual with well water.”