Silence followed until a few seconds later when Geoffrey said, “Can I call you back in ten minutes?”
She hesitated, then snapped, “That’s fine.”
The line went dead, and Alice glared at the phone then yanked the wire snake out of her drain, pulling out gobs of hair and other gross stuff with it. She pushed back the gagging feeling in her throat and held the dripping device over her garbage can. She’d hated doing this for her mom when she was a kid, and she didn’t like it any more now that she was an adult. Especially when the only thing going down the drain with any speed was her life.
Alice wound the snake back down the drain until she met so much resistance she couldn’t go any further. She pulled the snake out, and with it came the cotton balls, hair, and a Q-tip that had caused the clog. The sink made a loud slurping sound and the standing water flowed down the drain in great gulps that were loud enough she almost didn’t hear the knock at her door.
Normally she wouldn’t leave her door unlocked, but she’d called the super about the clog and was expecting him to show up. So, she yelled, “Come in!” Then watched the water to make sure it drained completely. “I’m in the bathroom!” she called again after she heard the door shut.
When she heard footsteps near the bathroom, she didn’t bother looking up as she knocked the snake against the garbage can, attempting to get the grossness off it without having to touch it. “I think I’ve fixed it, Calvin.”
“Who’s Calvin?”
Alice’s head shot up at Geoffrey’s voice, and her mouth dropped open when she actually saw him leaning against the bathroom door. Her first impulse was to throw the snake covered in hair and wet cotton balls at him, but her second, stronger, impulse was to throw her arms around him. Magazine article aside, the smile on his face told her Geoffrey was happy to see her. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d bring the paintings myself.” The twitching in his lip told her he was trying not to laugh. “Perhaps the more important question is, what are you doing?”
“Unclogging my sink. Something I’m sure you’ve never had to do at Binchley Hall.” Alice set the snake on the old towel under her sink, peeled off her gloves, then pulled her shoulders back with as much dignity as anyone could who had been caught looking like a plumber, down to the jeans sagging precariously low on her butt.
A smile tugged at his lips, and as mad as she was at him, she could see why he’d want to laugh. “You probably have someone on staff to take care of clogs and other gross stuff right away,” she said, trying not to be drawn out of her anger by the softness in his eyes. “Am I right? A Chief Officer-of-Plunging or something?”
Alice kept her eyes on the floor and took off the bandana holding back her bangs, then tousled them forward.
“Possibly.” Geoffrey took a step toward her, and as soon as she dropped her hands to her side, he took one of them and pulled her to him. “I’ve missed you.”
She wanted to melt into his arms, but the headline she’d read wouldn’t let her. “I saw the news.” His grip loosened. “I know you have a girlfriend.”
Alice stepped away from him, but he still held her hands, looking at her with such seriousness that she didn’t pull away.
“Is there somewhere we could sit and talk?” he asked. “I have a lot of explaining to do.”
Alice’s eyes drifted over every piece of furniture she owned. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear anything he had to say, but a suitcase and a crate by the door caught her attention. They weren’t hers, which meant they had to be Geoffrey’s. He must have come straight from the airport, which explained the background noise when he’d called. Had he jumped on the first flight he could find after she’d told him the news yesterday? Even after he’d said Ardis would be coming?
She walked toward the futon, which doubled as her bed, but the other choice was the kitchen table which only had one working chair. Instead of following her, Geoffrey went to his suitcase and pulled out a newspaper from the front pocket. “I wanted to tell you about this when it came out last week, but I couldn’t do it over the phone. This is the real reason I’m here.”
Alice took the paper and stared at the pictures on the front page. Even though she’d already seen them online, they still hurt. “Who took this picture?”
Geoffrey shrugged. “I didn’t see.” He smiled sadly and turned his eyes to hers. “I was somewhat preoccupied at the time.”
Alice didn’t want to be charmed into trusting Geoffrey again, so she turned away from his gaze. “Who is this?” She pointed to the blonde woman with her lips on Geoffrey’s cheek, her left hand on his chest. The moment could have been completely innocent, except something about the way the woman tilted her head with her eyes closed told Alice that, whoever she was, she felt much more than friendly toward Geoffrey.
“Clarissa Barclay,” Geoffrey answered.
“Yes, I read her name in the article.” Alice folded the paper and handed it back to him. “What I want to know is who she is to you.”
“I’m really sorry.” He reached out his hand as though to put it on her knee, but she moved her leg before he could. “I’ve been trying to break up with her for months. I thought moving to LA for six months would do it, but she was waiting for me when I got back. I should have told her before I kissed you, but things moved so fast between us.”
“You’re not engaged to her?”
He shook his head and set the paper to his side. “Our parents, Mum especially, wanted us to be—Clarissa thinks she wanted us to be—but I never proposed. I never even seriously considered it.”
“But she did. So, you led her on.”
Geoffrey clutched his hands between his knees, looked at the floor and nodded. “I didn’t mean to. I never once talked long term plans with her—I just didn’t shut her down when she did.”
He raised his head and hazarded a look at her. “I never loved her. I never felt about her the way I do about you.”
Alice let out a breath. “So, it’s over between you?”
He nodded.
She had to process what he’d said to her. They’d known each other a matter of weeks. How could he feel more for her than he had for someone he’d known for years?
“But your mom hates me now because it looks like I’m the reason you and Clarissa broke up?” She could only assume as much.
“I’ve told her you’re not.” Geoffrey stared at his hands, rubbing each of his fingernails one by one. “She doesn’t hate you, but there have been some repercussions that go beyond just Clarissa and me.”
“Like what?” Alice’s eyebrows squeezed together.
Geoffrey took the tips of her fingers and ran his thumb along them. “Barclay Bank was our financier.” He waited for her to make the connection, but when she didn’t, he went on. “Clarissa is a Barclay. Her father is the CEO. She’s his right-hand man—well, woman.”
“And he probably didn’t like seeing his daughter humiliated.”
Geoffrey nodded.
“So what does this mean? Can’t you get another bank to back you?”
Now Geoffrey did meet her gaze. “It took a year for Barclays to approve the loan, even with my relationship with Clarissa. I’m willing to start again, but Mr. Barclay has a lot of influence in the banking industry. I’ve approached a few other banks in the last week and haven’t gotten past the first line of my proposal before being shut down.”
Alice pressed her back into her sofa and stared at the ceiling. “So, I don’t have a job anymore?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “Nor I.”
She turned her head slowly toward him. “What do you mean?”
“They held off foreclosing on Binchley Estate and everything in it because of my relationship with Clarissa—although they’d never admit it,” he explained, squirming in his seat. “They’re not holding off anymore.”
Alice stood and walked the few feet to the kitchen, then back again. “What about the private donors? Can’t they save the art from b
eing sold? We could find another place to exhibit it.”
“Possibly, but some of them are pulling out already. Mr. Barclay is a very powerful man.” Geoffrey dropped his head into his hands.
“So, you’ve lost the art and the museum?” Alice reached toward him, then dropped her hand back into her lap.
He nodded again. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”
Alice wouldn’t argue with him about that. She didn’t know how she’d trust him again or get over losing the job she’d been looking forward to, but at the same time, she felt sorry for him. Geoffrey had lost everything, and he wasn’t a guy who knew how to have nothing. He was probably in a very scary place trying to prove himself when he’d never had to do that before.
And the punishment he had received didn’t seem to fit the crime. Yes, he should have been more upfront with this Clarissa person, but she probably should have known he wasn’t into her. He’d left the country for six months, for heaven’s sake. How did she not know she was being ghosted?
Geoffrey still had his head buried in his hands, and Alice couldn’t sit right next to him without trying to comfort him in some way.
So she stood.
And then she paced.
She needed some space to work out what she was feeling; her five-hundred square foot studio didn’t give her quite enough distance from him, but it would have to do. If she was going to forgive Geoffrey, she had to make sure it was her brain’s decision, not her heart’s.
Her heart couldn’t have a part in her relationship with Geoffrey anymore. Compartmentalizing meant closing those chambers completely and focusing only on how to make the Grey museum a reality.
She could let Geoffrey go—
Maybe . . .
Probably?
She’d have to see . . .
But she knew, for sure, that she wasn’t letting her dream job get away.
Chapter Seventeen
When Alice stopped pacing, Geoffrey was sure she was going to tell him to get out of her life and never come back. Instead, she sank into the sofa.
“Well, you have made a mess of things. And that sucks, but more for you than for me. At least I’ve got some marketable skills.” She turned her head to him, and the corner of her mouth went up at the same time she shrugged her shoulder and broke into a sad smile. “I haven’t seen any job openings for a modern-day gentleman.”
He laughed. “Neither have I.” He moved closer to her but stopped when he saw her tense.
“But for real, save your pity party for your fellow lords and ladies,” she said sternly, but her next words were laced with hope. “You still have your name, your connections, and plenty of assets you can sell.”
“Not the Monet.” He sat up straight, ready to talk business if that’s what she wanted.
“Why not?”
“The assessor I took it to thinks it may be fake. Though I know he doesn’t have your assessor’s expertise. I brought it with me. I’d like a second opinion.” Geoffrey kept his gaze on her. He suspected she’d already had an idea it was a fake but hadn’t said anything to him. So he wasn’t the only one who had kept a secret.
“I thought it might be,” she whispered. “I should have told you my suspicions, but I wanted to wait until I hopefully had good news about the Unicorn.” She bit her lip and didn’t quite look at him.
“You should have, but after all the questions you asked me about it, I decided to make sure it was authenticated. I’m hoping your assessor will have better news for me.” He wished he could reach for her hand. He needed her strength, but she’d put up a barrier between them. Not anything that he could see, but he felt it.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” she said gently. “You’re going to have to find some other way to earn money.”
Geoffrey nodded and attempted a smile. Coming to LA not only meant seeing her but also meeting with his agent. Sammy could help him decide what to do next with his art. Geoffrey would have to find a way to support himself, depending on how much the imminent sale of the Grey estate brought in. He guessed, however, most of the money would go toward paying off debts.
“I’ll find a way to fix this, Alice,” he said softly. “If for no other reason than so you can have the job you wanted. I don’t really care what I’ve lost; I just don’t want to lose you.”
He’d mulled over all of his problems during his red-eye from London and hadn’t slept at all. He’d even had a good seat this trip, with plenty of leg room. Not first class, as he was counting pennies now, but business class. He’d wait until he was truly poor before flying coach again.
But the thing he kept coming back to on that flight was that he could face anything as long as he still had a chance with Alice. That idea had been reinforced when he’d seen her with that ridiculous plumbing implement. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to kiss her for being the kind of woman who didn’t wait for someone else to solve her problems—no matter how disgusting. She jumped in and fixed them herself.
Why couldn’t he do the same? Especially if he had Alice by his side.
Unfortunately, that was looking less and less likely.
“Geoffrey?” Alice interrupted his thoughts but kept her eyes on the hem of her shirt which she worried between her fingers. He held his breath while he waited for what she wanted to say.
“What did you tell Clarissa about us?”
He smiled and looked into her eyes. “I told her we’d only kissed and that you weren’t a fling. That our kiss was much more than a kiss.”
Her forehead wrinkled then smoothed then wrinkled again as she wrestled with her thoughts, and he held his breath again waiting for her answer.
“You really told her that?” Alice’s questioning gaze held just enough hope for him to inch closer to her.
“Yes, because it’s the truth. At least for me.” He momentarily panicked that he’d been wrong in thinking she felt the same. “Do you think so?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, then quickly added, “but I don’t know what to think anymore. I want to believe there’s something real between us, but it all seems so make-believe.” She shook her head and smiled. “I mean, you’re used to being on the covers of magazines and going to coronation-y things, and I . . . well, I’m a girl from Bakersfield who didn’t know there was more than one type of fork until I went to college.”
He cocked his head to the side and gazed into her eyes. “Is that really how you see yourself?” Her nod made him go on before she could say anything. “What you are is a smart, persistent, unstoppable woman.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “And, I might add, very beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Her face flushed, and she took his hand from her face and held it between hers. “No one has ever said something to me like that.”
“So, you’re not mad?”
“Oh, I’m super pissed. You really screwed up.” She emphasized each word, but there wasn’t any heat behind them. “But I think this is fixable.”
“It is?”
“If the Thames can be cleaned up, so can this mess.” The corner of her mouth slipped into a smile that gave him his answer while at the same time obliterating any possibility of him not falling in love with her.
He moved to Alice’s side and took her hand. “Thank you.”
She stuck her chin out and grinned. “Don’t thank me yet. You’re not getting off so easy. You’ve still got to figure out how to get me my job back.”
Geoffrey stared at her small fingers in his and ran his thumb over them, making sure she was real. He had spent his life getting everything he’d wanted until the moment he’d lost it all, and now Alice had given him the one thing he’d always needed: forgiveness.
He had to give her something in return. “Alice.” He took a breath and forced himself to look her in the eyes. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
“No, you don’t. I already know what it is.” She put her hands on either side of his face.
“You do?”
/>
“Yes. You’re G.” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “I figured it out a while ago. I’ve just been waiting for you to tell me.” She kissed him again, then jumped off the couch. “And if the Unicorn turns out to be a Giotto, that’s even more reason for your Re-Collecting to be displayed with the collection.”
Geoffrey tried to interrupt her, but he had no words. She’d figured out he was G? He shouldn’t be surprised. If she could tell a flea market painting was actually a masterpiece, then of course she’d figure out he was G. He’d unintentionally left enough clues for her, and he’d been an idiot not to tell her in the first place. But she’d seen who he was without him having to say a word. That was something.
When he finally did find what he wanted to say, she put her fingers to his lips and stopped him before he could.
“We’re not losing your collection. I think that painting is going to be the key to saving the Grey museum.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, I need to leave now to meet with the assessor. I’d planned on Ardis going with me, but, if you trust me with the paintings, I think I should go alone. If you want to remain anonymous, you can’t be associated with the Unicorn. Anyone who is the least bit familiar with your work will see the connection between the two. And anyone who deals with art in LA knows your work after your show.”
“It’s probably best I don’t go then, and of course I trust you with the paintings.” He picked up the crate that held them, then took hold of his luggage and followed Alice to her car. “Will you meet me for lunch after?”
“As long as you’re buying.” She flashed him a grin. “Mary will do some forensic analysis to determine the age, which will be very helpful. Determining whether it’s a Giotto or not will be more difficult, but if anyone can do it, she can.” Alice clicked on her key fob and the trunk to a juiced-up classic Ford Mustang opened. “When I get back to London, if you have records of wills, we can go through those and see if the painting is mentioned anywhere. If we can trace it back far enough, we may be able to get more information on its origins.”
Gambling on a Gentleman: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love) Page 14