Then she decided she’d rambled too much and said the wrong thing and she wanted to delete it, but if she fussed around too much maybe the water taxi wouldn’t find the dock and she’d get stuck here trying to explain it in person. She agonized for a moment over what to name the document. Goodbye sounded too melodramatic, Au revoir implied that she’d see him again, Laters sounded too faux-casual, so she went with Bye, Jack and turned off the computer.
The sky had lightened somewhat by the time she headed for the dock Jack used for visitors. It was easy to spot from the shore and she raised a colorful flag she’d seen him use to attract the attention of the news crew’s boat. Five minutes early, she heard the chugging of an engine, and a battered boat pulled up.
Instead of feeling a great weight lift as the grizzled captain helped her aboard, she felt it settle deeper into the pit of her belly. Once the boat’s pilot had turned his attention to steering the boat, she looked back at the lush canopy of palm-topped sea grape that sheltered the infamous Drummond clan from the prying eyes of the outside world. What a magical place. Though Jack probably wouldn’t ever find the perfect wife and have the 2.5 towheaded children of his dreams running gaily through the garden. Men like him usually left a trail of broken hearts—and fatherless children—scattered over the globe. For all she knew, he was no different already.
Her broken heart had almost mended from the first time he’d dropped it. This time she might not be so lucky, but never mind. She didn’t have much use for a heart anyway.
* * *
Back in New York she holed up on her friend Zara’s sofa on Prince Street. She could probably stay with Zara for a week on the pretext of looking for a new pad, but because Zara’s huge loft was entirely open, the lack of privacy might start to unhinge her after that. She certainly wasn’t going back to abuse the hospitality of Sinclair Drummond and his new fiancée. She liked the down-to-earth and practical Annie, and had immediately seen her as a match for Sinclair. But for whatever reason, Annie didn’t seem to like her at all.
Sigh.
And there was the awkward reality of having to claim a large reward from a family friend. She’d have to pretend she would donate it to her favorite charity and just not mention that meant herself. Maybe that’s why she still hadn’t called to tell Katherine about the cup. Determined to get things moving, she picked up her phone and dialed the number.
“Vicki! I was wondering when you’d call. From the news stories I’m seeing, you obviously had no trouble finding Jack.”
“Drummonds are easy to find because they stay in the same house for three hundred years.”
Katherine laughed. “So true! And you found the cup on the newly discovered wreck?”
“It’s a long story.” She arranged to come out to Long Island and visit Katherine the next day. She would have been totally ashamed to admit that her chief motivation was to get her hot little hands on the twenty-thousand-dollar check. And she might not be in too much of a rush to get Jack’s share to him. With all his millions he wouldn’t mind waiting a month or so.
* * *
She took the train out to Long Island to avoid the expense of renting a car, and wasn’t surprised when Annie met her at the station. Vicki greeted her with a friendly wave. “I see you’re still the most helpful person in Dog Harbor.”
Once again, Annie stiffened. She tried to take Vicki’s bag and put it in the trunk. Vicki held on tight. “I can handle it. You’re no stronger than me and you’re not the housekeeper anymore.”
“Did you have a good train ride?” Annie asked primly.
“No worse than usual. Annie, can I ask you to be completely frank with me?” She settled into the passenger seat.
“Okay.” Annie looked anything but enthusiastic as she reversed out of the parking space.
“I can tell you don’t like me, and I’m just wondering why.” She looked at Annie, whose pretty, almost-strawberry-blond hair was loose to her shoulders for once.
Annie turned to her with a look that could only be described as distressed. “For one thing, I never know what you’re going to say. And when you do say something, it usually throws me off guard. Frankly, you scare me a little.” Annie’s words had rushed out in one breath. She then realized that she’d reversed out and was blocking the street, and she swung the car around into the right lane.
“Oh.” Vicki drew in a breath. “I’m sorry.” She felt chastened. She didn’t tend to worry all that much about other people’s feelings. Maybe because she wasn’t the world’s most sensitive person herself. Often she didn’t even notice when someone disliked her until someone else pointed it out. Even then, she usually didn’t mind too much.
But somehow she wanted Annie to like her, and it hurt that she didn’t.
“And you know what?” Annie continued, a slight frown marring her smooth brow. “It was weird being the housekeeper and waiting on people hand and foot. I had to be polite to everyone whether I wanted to or not. It’s kind of stressful.”
“And now you can be as rude as you like.” Vicki raised a brow.
Annie laughed. “I don’t think I’m capable of that. I’m too repressed or something. I think you and I are just opposites.”
“Which is why I’d be disastrous with the lovely Sinclair and you’re his perfect match. I could see it from the first moment I saw you together.”
“How?” Annie sounded genuinely curious. “I didn’t think we were all right for each other. I doubt we would ever have got together if you hadn’t forced us into it.”
Vicki looked sideways at her. “You can’t fool me. Something had already happened between you.”
Annie bit her lip. “Something...totally wild and unexpected and inappropriate and, well, eek!”
“And now it’s turned into something wonderful and perfect and joyous for all concerned.”
“And I have to give you credit where credit’s due. I think I do like you after all.” Annie smiled at her.
“I’m not even sure if I like myself.” Vicki stared out the windshield. “Maybe I’ll grow on both of us.”
* * *
Katherine Drummond’s pale eyes filled with tears at the sight of the cup. Still weak from a rare tropical illness, she sat in a polished chair at the dining table in her son’s Long Island mansion. Sinclair stood nearby with his arm around his fiancée, Annie, and all attention was riveted on the artifact Vicki had pulled from her bag.
Tarnished and still somewhat encrusted with seabed, the cup didn’t look at all impressive. Suddenly Vicki even wondered if it was the right cup. Maybe the pieces wouldn’t fit together and her time would have all been wasted.
“Vicki, darling, I can’t believe you went to such lengths to find this.”
“It was all Jack’s doing.”
“How did you talk him into looking for it? I couldn’t even get him to return my calls.”
“I just had to fire up his treasure hunting instincts. It really wasn’t hard. Shouldn’t we make sure it fits?”
Katherine reached for the unimpressive-looking stem that sat in a fabric-lined box on the table in front of her. She squeezed it in her bony hand and looked at Vicki. “I know we still have to find the third piece, but I can’t help but feel a sense of history being made right at this moment.”
Vicki held her breath. How disappointed would she be if this was all a big mistake? Katherine hoped to end the Drummond family’s long run of disastrous marriages and personal tragedies with this battered relic. That was a lot of hope to hang on one old cup.
She held out the cup and Katherine pushed the stem into the hole on the underside of the cup bowl. There was a grinding noise as remaining encrusted sand and mineral deposits scraped against metal. Vicki wished she’d taken the time to clean it more thoroughly, but she’d been impatient to come here and claim the reward.
“It fits.” Katherine looked up at Vicki, tears glittering in her eyes. “Look, Sinclair.” She held it up like a priest during Mass. “The legend is real!”
Sinclair raised an eyebrow. “Pretty cool.”
Vicki wanted to laugh. Sinclair was so not the type to get fired up over a crusty old antique. His future wife wasn’t, either. They were all wrapped up in plans for Annie to open a shop selling decorative home and garden items. Neither of them was at all worried about the impact of ancient curses and legends on their future.
Katherine twisted the cup in the light. “I wonder if you’re supposed to drink a libation out of it?”
“I think you should wait until you find the third piece.” Vicki stared at the cup, which visibly lacked its base. “Have you had any luck contacting the Scottish branch of the family?”
Katherine shook her head. “None whatsoever. It’s very frustrating. I would be upset with James Drummond for being so rude, but apparently he spends most of his time in Singapore, so I’m not even sure that his Scottish estate is passing along my messages. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to go there and track him down, Vicki?”
Vicki froze. “No, I’m afraid I really have to get back to my life in New York.” The last thing she needed was to meet another tall, dark and debonair Drummond heir. They were all bad news as far as she was concerned. “Maybe you should visit him yourself?”
“The doctors won’t let me travel. My immune system took such a beating they’re worried that even a bad cold could knock me flat, so no air travel.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to keep phoning and emailing James Drummond. Sooner or later I’ll get through to him.” Katherine turned the cup in her hands again. “But I feel a weight lifting already. I know we’ll find the third piece. Look how happy Sinclair is.” She glanced fondly at her tall, imposing son, who did glow rather sweetly with happiness.
Vicki felt even her hard heart swell with emotion. “I’m sure you will and I can’t wait to see it all together. In the meantime, however, I’m afraid I must run. I wanted to bring you the piece I found as soon as possible, but I’ve been on vacation from my life for some weeks and I have a lot to do.” She swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t have to remind Katherine about the reward. She’d managed to conceal her lack of money all this time, but things were getting desperate. Her credit cards were maxed out and she needed to pay them down to get herself off the ground in New York.
“It seems rather a shame that the reward you talked me into offering is going to people who already have money.” Katherine laughed. “I suppose you can always give it to the needy.”
Vicki managed a fake laugh. “Of course. I have some pet causes.” Like eating and having a roof over her head. “And I’m sure Jack does, too.”
“I saw the two of you on the news. I couldn’t help but notice that you’d make a lovely couple.”
“How odd it made the news here.” Vicki’s swallowed. Her fling was supposed to be private and personal. Would others guess there was something between them? “I thought it was a local interest story.”
“It’s one of the biggest finds of the century. It’s nice to see the Drummonds getting good publicity for a change. Usually we’re only in the papers when someone crashes their plane into a building or disappears at sea. Jack is very dashing. Don’t you think he’s handsome?”
“I guess.” Adrenaline surged through her. Could she just beg Katherine to write the check? “Kind of arrogant, but why wouldn’t he be?”
“Why not indeed.” Katherine smiled fondly. “Maybe he’ll find love now that the cup is being reunited.”
Vicki felt ill. “Goodness, look at the time. A check would be great.”
* * *
Subletting a studio on Sutton Place was a coup. She chose the tony address entirely for the snob factor. Although her building was right on the East River, her tiny apartment was on the first floor and faced toward the street. Still, it made for great letterhead and she could walk down to the water and sip coffee looking out at Roosevelt Island whenever she wanted.
Writing a check for ten thousand dollars and mailing it to Jack Drummond didn’t feel quite so hot. She’d hoped that once she posted it she could put that whole unfortunate episode of her life behind her. Then she found herself obsessively checking her bank balance—never a good thing to do—to see if he’d cashed it. And he didn’t.
Did the check go astray? Was he too busy to visit an ATM machine? Did he suspect she needed the money and decide to treat her as a charity case? The possibilities danced in her brain even as she hustled to get her new business off the ground.
She hooked up with her first two clients through an interior decorator she’d met at a party. The first was a Brazilian shoe manufacturer who had a new Park Avenue pad with empty walls and needed to amass a lifetime’s art collection in time for his daughter’s engagement party in six weeks. The second was an advertising art director who’d just inherited several million and bought a Tribeca loft, and wanted to fill the space with contemporary masters. Could life get any better than that? She had plenty to do, calling around her contacts and attending auctions with an enormous budget to buy anything from Renoir sketches to Rikrit Tiravanija sculptures. With the commissions she’d already started to earn she’d be back in the black and on her way to financial stability by the end of the year.
Life was good. Except for that nagging hole that nothing seemed to fill. Sex didn’t work, even with the delicious David from Sotheby’s. The unfortunate truth that she craved a more substantial relationship really depressed her when she allowed herself to think about it. So she didn’t.
Nearly a month had gone by since she’d returned. Should she call to see if the check got lost? Every time she picked up the phone, her heart beat so fast she wasn’t sure she could sound normal, so she put it back down. Sometimes she jumped when her phone rang because she was so sure it must be Jack, calling to cuss her out for taking off without even showing him his own ancestral relic. But he obviously didn’t care much one way or the other.
Then one night, the bleat of her phone startled her from her laptop, where she’d been perusing listings for an upcoming Christie’s auction. It was him. This time she was sure.
“Hello.” She cursed her hopeful tone.
“Vicki.” A male voice, but not Jack’s. “It’s Leo.”
Ugh. Her heart sank. “Hi.” No encouragement. She’d love to hang up on him, but he was a bit too well connected for overt rudeness.
“When’s the wedding?”
“The what?” She smacked her head when she remembered her pretend engagement ruse.
“You’re not with Jack Drummond anymore, are you?” His voice had an edge to it that she didn’t remember hearing before. He’d probably figured out she was lying. Especially if he’d seen the TV coverage.
“No. No, we broke up.” Or were never together in the first place. “I have a call coming in on the other line. Can I call you back?”
“You won’t call me back. You’ve never called me back.”
Maybe you could take a hint from that. “Why did you call?” Might as well get this over with properly. She’d be bound to run into Leo soon because they moved in the same circles, and a pointed conversation now could save an embarrassing scene later.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Jack Drummond, but now that you’re single again, we could see La Traviata and grab dinner at Per Se.”
This guy was scary. “I’m still in love with Jack.” As she said the words, she knew they were true.
“He’s an oaf.”
“He’s wonderful.” Was she really having this conversation?
“Then why did you break up with him?”
“I didn’t. He broke up with me.” Now, that was the first lie of the conversation, except about the call coming in. Mercifully Jack never had the chance to dump her because she’d taken the reins of that carriage. Of course it had the unfortunate effect of leaving her wondering what might have happened if...
“Listen, Vicki. I’ve been very patient with you, but you’re taxing even my vast reserves. I want to take you to dinner, and you will
come.”
“I won’t.” All this talk about Jack made her feel reckless.
“Don’t forget that I know about your family’s financial trouble. How would you like for me to go to the papers with that news?”
“Go right ahead.” And she pressed End. Then blew out a long, hard breath. Do your worst, Leo Parker. She couldn’t live with threats and secrets hanging over her head. She was good at what she did. So what if her ivory tower was in foreclosure? People would just have to take her as they found her.
* * *
The story broke slowly over the next week. A gossip column mention here, a blog there, an opinion piece about privilege and greed...and the results were disastrous. Her two clients ran in separate directions, leaving her holding the checks for three artworks she’d already purchased as the only salvage from her brief career as art buyer to the rich and famous. She retreated to her Sutton Place lair to lick her wounds and wait for the firestorm of gossip to die down.
“No one will even remember in a month.” Annie had called to commiserate after seeing a story on The Huffington Post. “These things get people all excited and then they move on to some other new drama.”
“I’m surprised anyone cares, but I suppose I knew they would, which is why I hid the truth for so long. Poverty is terrifying to the rich.”
Annie laughed. “You’re hardly impoverished.”
“That’s what you think.” It was a relief to be honest. “I’m just good at keeping up appearances. I’ve been living from hand to mouth for nearly a year. Why do you think I spent so much time mooching around you and Sinclair?”
“I thought you liked us. I should have known better. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll survive. What doesn’t kill me, and all that jazz. Maybe I’ll travel to Scotland in hopes of earning the rest of the reward.”
The Deeper the Passion... Page 14