Читать книгу The Forbidden Brother - Barbara McMahon - Страница 6

JED stood near one of the large plate-glass windows at the front of the gallery gazing out over the busy street when Laura finally left her office. He felt like he was in some kind of time warp. His parents had not been overjoyed to see him. His mother accused him of deliberately staying away from the funeral. He’d explained about the timing of the message, but she refused to accept any responsibility on its delay, saying she’d told the woman who answered to have him call. It was more trouble than it was worth to keep repeating she should have mentioned it was a family emergency.

Sometimes he wondered how his mother made it in the real world. She expected everything to run according to her rules and when they didn’t, it was never her fault.

Being an artist was the cause. She lived that mystique for all it was worth. Jed remembered making meals when he was in high school so the entire family could eat. His mother would be lost in oil paints, his father in his studio working. Jordan had either been out with some girl or talking on the phone.

How did they manage meals now, he wondered briefly.

“I’m ready,” Laura said, coming to stand next to him.

He glanced at the woman his brother had been going to marry. He didn’t understand this relationship, either. Laura was not the type of woman he knew Jordan liked. She didn’t have big blond hair, wasn’t built like a Playboy bunny and seemed all-around stable. Her honey-golden hair barely brushed her shoulders. Her brown eyes held honest appraisal when she looked at him. She wore little makeup. Her dress was suitable for a successful businesswoman. Had his brother finally given up his bimbos and settled down with someone who could add stability to his life?

Or had he proposed to insure he always had a market for his painting? The cynical thought wasn’t fair to Laura. She was a pretty woman, as well as being a competent business owner. The gallery was obviously doing well. Maybe his brother had finally matured and had been ready to settle down. Jed had not seen him for the last five years. A man could change in that time. Maybe love was the key factor here. He’d heard love could change the world.

“Where do you recommend we eat?” he asked.

“Sal’s Shack has good seafood sandwiches. It’s crowded but there’s always a table somewhere,” she said. “Unless you have another place in mind?”

“No. I don’t know the area. My folks moved here when I was in college. I’ve been here for only a few visits since then.”

Jed opened the large glass door for her and followed her into the sunshine. The wide sidewalks were not crowded despite the number of people strolling along. It was late June, the beginning of the summer months when tourists outnumbered the residence five to one. The summer economy kept the town going year-round, but the other visits he’d made had been in fall. He thought he liked the place better when it wasn’t so crowded.

He looked at her. “Didn’t Jordan tell you?”

She kept her gaze forward and shook her head quickly. “I knew your family was a fairly recent transplant as Miragansett families go. But they were here before me, so they seemed like longtime residents to me. Jordan wasn’t much for talking about the past. He was always looking toward the future and what success he’d achieve when his painting took off.”

Or he’d make love talk. The hours they spent together were for the two of them, not talking about his family or the past.

“He was thirty years old, how long before his painting took off?” Jed asked.

Laura shrugged. She slipped dark glasses over her eyes. She didn’t want to talk about Jordan.

Jed tried not to let it bother him that his brother had not shared more information about their family with Laura, but he wondered what kind of engagement it had been. How could she agree to marry him and not know more about the Brodies?

“How long were you two engaged?” he asked.

“We were engaged for two months,” she said.

“And you knew him how long before that?”

She glanced up at him, her expression hard to read with the dark glasses. “Is that important?”

“Just curious.”

“Jordan swept me off my feet and we got engaged only a couple of months after meeting. I’d known your mother for longer, of course. Hugo represented some of her work so I knew her first from business.”

“So how did you two meet?” He wasn’t surprised to hear Jordan had swept her off her feet. He had that ability. Jed knew he’d never sweep anyone off their feet. He didn’t have the glib charm that Jordan displayed so easily. For him life was more serious. He didn’t think the world owed him anything. He had to make his own way. A slight, but significant difference between the two of them.

Women liked the carefree charm of his brother, Jed knew. There’d been plenty of instances when they’d been in school and college. He was nothing like Jordan in that area. The few women he’d dated over the last decade had been casual friends. His work in foreign countries didn’t make for long-term relationships.

“He came into the shop about a year and a half after I became the owner. He brought a painting to show me, wanting me to represent him. I declined based on the one painting, but he was persistent, insisted on taking me to dinner to discuss things. We began dating and before long he asked me to marry him. I said yes.”

Where was the falling-in-love part? Jed wondered. Maybe Laura was still too raw from Jordan’s death to talk about that. Yet there was a hint of anger in her tone. Wasn’t that part of the grieving process, anger that the person who died had left?

“You two were obviously not very close,” she commented.

“Distances prevented it.” Distance and their past. Jed kept secrets few people knew he had. Jordan had moved on, why couldn’t he?

“With today’s e-mail and telephones everywhere, you could have kept in closer contact if you both had wanted. I always thought twins were close,” she said.

“Maybe ones who share more than just looks. I don’t have the family artist talent. Jordan couldn’t care less about load ratios and wind factors. He went his way and I went mine.”

“And never the two shall meet,” she finished. “I didn’t even know you were twins,” she said sadly.

Jed looked at her in surprise. “Jordan didn’t speak of me at all?”

“Only to say you were the younger brother and worked out of the country and the family rarely saw you. Which explained why you weren’t at home for Christmas.”

Jed didn’t want it to bother him, but it did. How could his brother be so close to this woman and not even mention they were twins? He had never fully understood Jordan. This was another incident to add to the list.

They reached Sal’s Shack. It was situated right on the harbor, with a huge wooden deck jutting over the water, dotted with umbrellas to shade the tables—most of which were full of laughing, happy tourists and townsfolk eating lunch. The hostess led them to one of the umbrella-shaded spots near the railing. The bay was calm today, ruffled only occasionally by a gust of wind. The blue was deeper than that of the clear sky. A perfect June afternoon in Miragansett.

Jed saw one or two people look their way as they walked through the crowd and do a double-take. They probably had known Jordan. Were they others who had not known he had a twin?

He felt overdressed. Everyone on the deck was in casual shorts and cropped shirts. Dark glasses repelled the sun’s glare. Some had hats that lifted slightly in the gust of breeze from the sea. His suit was as out of place here as at the bridge site.

As soon as he returned to his hotel, he’d change into something more casual. It’d been a long time since he’d taken a vacation. He’d planned to combine the business of Jordan’s estate with some time relaxing in the seaside town. Working in the jungle he wore khakis and the coolest cotton he could. Those clothes would fit in here, as well, he thought, surveying the other men.

He looked at Laura. Her dress was pale pink and looked cool, sort of casual, yet businesslike. Her hair blew away from her face which left it available to his gaze. Her skin was lightly tanned, her dark glasses hiding her eyes from his.

He wondered what she thought about dealing with him now, instead of his mother.

He’d already run into trouble with his mom on the terms of Jordan’s will. She didn’t approve of Jed’s having the control and claimed she should have all of Jordan’s paintings. It was a formality only; if she had to she could buy them all. The money went into the estate and then it would be divided back between him and his parents. Still, he planned to follow the letter of the will. Jordan had obviously written it for a reason.

Jed had been surprised to get a call from the lawyer once he’d spoken to his mother. He had not known Jordan had named him as executor. Everything had been put on hold until Jed could be located.

He and Laura both ordered the shrimp subsandwiches and iced tea. The hum of many conversations gave a background white noise. Above it, the slap of waves on the sand beneath the deck could barely be heard. The erratic breeze from the sea kept the temperature manageable, though Jed did slip off the suit jacket and roll back his shirtsleeves.

“It’s hot. Not many men wear suits here,” she commented.

“I came straight from the airport. I saw my parents briefly then came to see you,” he explained. Now he wished he’d changed first. Still, he was on a short time frame and was impatient to get things going. He felt like a fish out of water here. He wanted to wind up the estate and get back to work. His second in command could handle things, but Jed liked to run the construction site himself.

“I read the will,” she said. “It appears you have full authority. How does that impact the show? Will you let it proceed?” She withdrew the envelope from her purse and handed it back to him.

“I knew nothing about the proposed show. When I discussed it with the lawyer who wrote the will, we made plans to liquidate assets as soon as possible. We’re already three months after his death. My mother can buy his pictures, based on your appraisals, and show them if she wishes. If his paintings weren’t selling, what was he doing for money?”

Laura didn’t know how much their family talked to each other. Not much if Jed’s questions were anything to go by. She was curious about the true relationship. Jordan had said so little about his brother, or anything else actually—except how fabulously they’d live once his paintings sold. And how much he loved her. How he would treat her like a queen when the money began to roll in.

Foolish pipe dreams she now knew better than to believe. Her face flushed in memories of the love they’d shared. How she never asked questions, always content to bask in the moment. She’d been an idiot in retrospect. But what a blissful few weeks she’d had.

Jed was watching her. What had he asked?

“Your mother subsidized him until he began to sell.” She tried to keep her tone neutral. Her parents lived a modest lifestyle in Iowa. She’d been raised to become self-sufficient at a young age. She couldn’t imagine her own parents thinking they had to support her at this point in her life. She looked away. That was unfair. They would have helped her in a moment’s notice if she’d really needed it. Maria had lots of money; she probably didn’t think two thoughts about subsidizing Jordan.

“He was thirty and hadn’t begun to earn a living. Would he really ever have?” Jed asked.

She bit her lip, feeling the wash of guilt. Would it have hurt her any to have hung one or two of his paintings in her gallery? Maybe some tourist would have bought them and given Jordan a boost that could have changed his future.

“It’s hard to say.” Because she had not given him that chance.

She looked at Jed, feeling surreal talking to the man who looked so like Jordan. His features were identical. Only the shorter haircut and different attitude showed her she wasn’t living in some dream or caught up in the past. She could be excused for the awareness that hovered. He looked like someone she loved. Her body had a hard time differentiating between them. But her mind knew. She wasn’t going down that idyllic path a second time.

Their sandwiches came and for a moment conversation was suspended while they began to eat.

“Tell me about yourself,” Jed said a little later. “You’re not from here…I can tell from your accent.”

She laughed and put down the sandwich she was about to take another bite from. “I like to think I have no accent and those from here are the ones with the definite accent. I’m from Iowa. I went to college in Boston, studied fine arts, then looked for the ideal job. I found a less than ideal one in Boston where I had the opportunity to learn all I could about current art, appraising, marketing. I spent weekends and vacations looking for another position. A few years ago I came to Miragansett for a long weekend, fell in love with the place and began to look for a job. Hugo Atkins was kind enough to hire me and here I’ve been ever since.”

“It’s a nice town, what little I’ve seen over the years. My parents lived in Boston until I started college. I’ve been on my own since, and for the most part on assignments out of the country, so I’ve never spent much time here. But I remember my mother raving about Hugo’s gallery. It was one of the best in all of Cape Cod, she once said.”

“I like to think it still is. He died almost two years ago. I was fortunate he left the business to me,” she said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow at that but before he could speak, he heard a rise in the conversation level. Turning, he saw his mother. Maria Brodie wove her way through the tables until she stopped at theirs.

“What are you doing talking to Laura?” she demanded, frowning at her son.

Jed rose politely. “I didn’t expect you to join us for lunch,” he said easily.

“I’m not joining you!”

She glared at Laura. “I called the gallery. Heather told me you had come here to have lunch with Jed. He’s nothing like Jordan. He’s only here to wreak havoc with our lives.”

Jed was glad to see some things never changed—like his mother’s bent for dramatics.

Turning back to her son, she continued, “Haven’t we had enough heartache with Jordan’s death without your interfering with our plans?” Her dramatic tone seemed to expand to include the entire deck and all the people there. Most of the customers at nearby tables stopped eating, fascinated by the scene unfolding.

“I’m only following Jordan’s instructions, Mother. You saw the will, you know this is what he wanted,” Jed said quietly. He knew better than to try to head her off. She loved an audience. Did she realize so many people were watching?

“He wrote that several years ago. Things have changed. He should have left me the paintings, or at least left them to Laura. She was going to be his wife. It’s not fair!”

Laura started to open her mouth, thought better of it and closed it firmly. Glancing around, she saw other diners avidly observing every nuance.

“Maria, please, sit down and join us,” she urged. “People are staring.”

Maria paused, glanced around haughtily and then sat in the chair Jed quickly drew out for her.

She glowered at her son. “You stay away from Jordan’s fiancée. I remember the rivalry you two boys had, always trying to take away each other’s girls. You can’t have Laura. He was happy here, away from your interference. Stay away from Laura!”

“Then shall I find someone else to appraise Jordan’s paintings? We were having lunch to discuss that,” Jed said easily, sitting back in his chair. He wondered if he was going to be able to finish his sandwich. How did his mother live with such high drama all the time? He’d find it wearing.

Maria looked surprised. She glanced at Laura. “Of course I want Laura to appraise his work. She’d do a marvelous job. She loved Jordan and admired his paintings, right dear?”

Laura gave a polite smile but kept quiet, lest she end the months of silence and tell Maria exactly what she’d thought of Jordan, and how she’d ended their engagement twenty-four hours before he crashed his car against that tree. If and when she told, it would not be at a crowded restaurant with potential customers listening avidly.

Actually, she had no plans to bring more heartbreak to Maria. The woman had loved the idea of their marriage. She had been needy after her son’s death, relying on Laura for several things since then. Her heart ached as Maria’s must. She didn’t want to cause any problems for the family.

“I would appraise the paintings to the best of my ability,” she said.

“There!” Maria looked in triumph to Jed. “She’s the best for the job.”

Jed inclined his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. “So glad you approve my choice.”

Laura admired his patience. She drew a deep breath, determined not to get upset with Maria this afternoon. She’d had enough turmoil already this day.

“She’s one of the best art dealers in town,” Maria said. She looked at what they were eating. “I’ll have the shrimp, also,” she said.

Jed summoned the waitress and placed an order for his mother.

Maria ignored Jed and looked at Laura. “I planned to stop by the gallery to look at that alcove again. I think it’s too small and not light enough for the best display of his paintings.”

“Mother,” Jed interrupted. “Have you seen the pictures Laura picked out for the show?”

“Not yet.” Maria paused a moment, then took a deep breath. “I cannot bring myself to see my darling boy’s work. I know I will be devastated all over again. It’s all I can do to make it through each day. Planning this retrospective has given me something to focus on. I’m sure opening night will be almost more than I can bear.”

For a moment Laura thought Maria might start crying. She’d been inconsolable at the funeral. Laura had visited a few times since, spacing the visits longer and longer apart. One day they would move back into the realm of gallery owner-artist, but for the time being, she was destined to play the part of grieving fiancée. Half the time she felt like such a fraud. The other half, she genuinely grieved and wished fervently that Jordan Brodie was still alive and she’d never walked in on him that afternoon.

“They are not up to your standards,” Jed said.

Maria waved her hands in the air as if that was of no importance. “Probably not yet. I’ve had twenty years more experience than he had. But the talent was there. Given time, he probably would have been one of the leading painters of the twenty-first century.”

Laura blinked. Maria was really living in a fantasy world. “No,” she said involuntarily.

Maria and Jed looked at her.

“What?”

Laura shifted position slightly, glancing at Jed in appeal. “The paintings are nothing like what you do, Maria. I don’t believe Jordan had the discipline you have to continue to grow in his work.” She stopped short. If what Jed said earlier was true, Maria needed to see the paintings to know her precious son would never have achieved her level of success.

Unless he stopped drinking, of course. Maybe his entire life would have been different had he not wanted to party more than anything. Why hadn’t she realized that at the time? She’d enjoyed their clubbing as much as he had. But she would not have continued forever. Would he ever have settled in marriage? She’d never know.

“Come by the gallery and see them,” Laura continued. “Help me choose which frames to use for the different subjects I’ve chosen. If you don’t like them, we have time to select others from his inventory.”

“Oh, I couldn’t bear it. I don’t know how I shall be able to be at the showing, yet for my poor son, I shall be there. But I don’t believe I can see them more than once so soon after his death.”

“You need to view them before the show,” Jed said. “They aren’t very good.”

“How dare you besmirch your brother’s work! From the time he was seven or eight years old, he showed great promise. We all know you have no artistic talent, Jed. Don’t belittle what you can’t do yourself!”

Jed’s eyes narrowed as if in anger. But his voice remained calm when he spoke, “I can’t draw worth a damn, but I do recognize raw talent, and it’s not there.”

The waitress arrived with Maria’s sandwich.

“Wrap it up, I’m leaving,” she said imperiously. She rose. Jed rose. Laura watched bemused as they stared at each other for a long moment. Maria spoke again,

“I expect the show to proceed as planned. I trust Laura to have selected the best of his work and once the community sees the paintings, everyone will realize the loss to the art world his death caused. You’re the executor, figure out how to have those paintings be available for the show.” She followed the waitress back toward the restaurant proper to get her wrapped sandwich.

Jed sat and looked at Laura.

“She’s heading for a big disappointment.”

“The paintings aren’t that bad,” Laura said diplomatically.

“They aren’t that good. She expects to see masterpieces. Instead she’s going to see mediocre work. Are those the best?”

Laura nodded, fiddling with her iced tea glass.

“He liked to have a good time, didn’t want to be responsible, accountable, or grow up. And there was no need, as long as Mom subsidized him,” Jed said with frustration.

Laura said nothing. She began to eat again, but the sandwich tasted like cardboard. As soon as she could, without looking as if she were fleeing, she wanted to leave.

“So when can you come out to do the appraisal?” he asked.

He was relentless. “Not before Thursday afternoon,” she said. Today was Tuesday; if he was in such a rush, maybe he’d not want to wait that long. She began to think it would suit her better to have another appraiser handle the task. She felt battered from all the drama of the day.

“Fine. What time?”

“Two?” Drat. She should have said she was busy until next week, or next month. Or just flat out told him no. She glanced at him. She didn’t think many people told him no.

“I’ll be there. I have to clear out Jordan’s things. See if there is anything else worth selling. Most of his clothes I’ll donate. Do you have a recommendation where?”

“There’s a thrift store in Provincetown that supports a children’s group. If I were doing it, I would donate there.”

“What of his things do you want?” he asked gently.

Laura shook her head. “There is not one thing I can think of I want.” She was not truly entitled to anything, even if Jed thought differently. She had ended their relationship. Had her ending the engagement caused Jordan to crash his car? She hoped not, but the nagging doubt remained.

She tossed her napkin on the table and rose. “I have to get back to the gallery. Thank you for lunch. I’ll see you Thursday.” Unless an excuse presented itself before then so she could get out of doing the appraisals without questions being raised.

Jed rose with her and waited until she walked away before sitting down again.

Just as Laura was about to step away from the deck, she glanced back. He sat gazing out over the harbor. For a moment, she thought she caught a glimpse of loneliness. She hesitated. Maybe she’d misjudged Jed Brodie. There was no denying the tug of her heart as she debated returning to the table. For what? To see if she could cheer him up? Nothing could do that. And any close association could lead to a revelation she didn’t want made.

Turning, she headed back to the gallery, planning her next appointment. And then she’d turn her attention to appraising the paintings that were currently awaiting framing.

She’d call in Jasper Mullins, as well. He owed her a favor and could give a second opinion. Not that she questioned her judgment. Hugo’s instructions over the years and her own experience since gave her confidence in her decisions. But for what she owed Jordan and his parents, she’d see if she could get another opinion.

Jed stayed at the table long enough to finish his meal. He hadn’t eaten regularly in the last couple of days with the time zone changes and three different flights. He was hungry and tired. And not looking forward to winding up his brother’s affairs. He wished things had been different. He loved his mother. He didn’t always understand her, but he knew what she considered important. It had never been about him, always about Jordan. He’d come to terms with that situation years ago.

His father was also in a dream world most of the time, sculpting from marble or granite—revealing what the rock hid, he said. He only surfaced when it was time to sell the piece. He drove a shrewd deal and his pieces were now sought after, by private collectors, as well as modern museums.

The clean salt air felt refreshing after the constant scent of rotting vegetation that permeated the area around the Amazon River basin. He had become used to the smell over the months, only now realizing how foul the air seemed in comparison.

Tossing some money on the table, holding his suit jacket with one finger, he slung it across his shoulder and headed back to his hotel. He’d call the office, let them know he was extending his visit. This was not something he could handle in a day or two.

To appease his mother, he’d let the showing take place. How that would affect probate, he’d have to find out from the attorney. Once he’d unpacked and changed into cooler clothes, he’d head for the cottage and assess what needed to be done there. He couldn’t believe he’d never see his brother again. That he wasn’t going to be called upon to bail him out of yet another scrape. Or hear some convoluted plan on how Jordan would make a million dollars.

They hadn’t been close, but he missed him like hell.

What had his life been like here? Jed had never visited Jordan’s cottage. Would the place remind him of Jordan? Or would it be so unknown to him no reminders would arise? He hoped for the latter. He wished Jordan had written his will differently. Jed wished he could still be in the Amazon Basin sweating over delivery of the next supply ship, haranguing the local laborers to work faster or the blasted bridge would never be complete. Wouldn’t that have antagonized his mother, to not even come home once he had learned of Jordan’s death?

Yet there was nothing to be done. Jordan was gone. It was hard to grasp he’d never see his brother again. Never find that magic moment when they’d be close as they had been as young boys, before the obvious favoritism of their parents had caused the schism. Death was very final.