Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel (40 page)

He pretended to follow them, but as soon as Jordan’s head disappeared down the stairs, he did an about-face and marched back into the bedroom.

He made himself pick up that seemingly innocent bottle, twist the top so the holes were open, and sniff, praying all the while.

The scent wrung a groan of despair from him as Owen realized that all his problems up until now didn’t amount to a hill of beans compared to this one.

Distressing didn’t begin to describe how he felt at finally learning exactly what the haunting scent he associated with
Jordan was. Baby powder. The discovery left him disoriented. Violated his very notion of self. It was like finding out that a pair of support hose really turned him on.

It gave rise to nightmarish visions of him wandering the drugstore aisle, past diapers and disposable bibs, teething rings and infant formula, to stare besottedly at that white plastic bottle with the pretty blue lettering as he summoned the memory of the way Jordan’s skin smelled in the shadowed valley of her breasts, of how he loved to drag his mouth over that exquisitely smooth territory from her hip bone to the triangle of dark curls, inhaling deeply as everything in him went a little crazy with lust. Thanks so bloody much, Johnson & Johnson.

He couldn’t help but feel betrayed, angry even, as if he were the butt of some awful joke. What the hell did it say about him, just how screwed up his internal wiring was to go weak-kneed whenever he caught a whiff of Jordan’s “signature” scent? A scent that wasn’t a special formula created exclusively for her by a master parfumeur in Grasse, but the stuff she sprinkled on her chubby baby’s butt and barrel-shaped tummy? If he’d lacked sufficient motivation to end things between Jordan and him, he now had more than enough reason.

He carefully put the offensive bottle back exactly where he’d found it, determined no one should guess that he’d literally been sniffing around. As a point of pride, he refused to show how unsettled he was when he went down to the kitchen. Luckily no one noticed. Margot and Travis were supervising the kids’ meal, while Jordan prepared the grownups’ dinner.

“Tim Mitchell called, Jordan, to ask if he could come by and see Cascade on Saturday. I told him that Margot and I would be down in Charlottesville, but he seems really keen on coming.”

“Ned and I can show him Cascade.” Turning to look at Owen, she said, “Would you like some wine?”

“Please, but I’ll get it.” Better not to get close to her, he might catch her scent and lose it completely. “How about you?”

“Maybe after I’ve put the kids to bed.”

“I’ll open it and let it breathe then.” Just as long as
he
didn’t breathe.

“So this is what, the fourth time Tim’s come out to see Cascade?” Jordan asked, picking up the thread of the conversation with Travis.

Owen stilled. This Tim Mitchell had been coming around an awful lot lately. And though Cascade was a really nice colt, Owen couldn’t help but wonder if Mitchell’s interest didn’t extend beyond Rosewood Farm’s horses to Jordan.

If so, that meant the morons of Warburg had finally caught on to the fact that she was incredible. Nonie and that wagging tongue of hers doubtless had something to do with it. Hearing that Jordan Radcliffe wasn’t living in self-imposed abstinence must have been the signal these lamebrains were waiting for to get off their asses, pick up the phone, and dial Rosewood Farm. Coming to check out the horses was a perfect excuse.

While Jordan, Margot, and Travis were obviously happy at the idea that Tim Mitchell might be serious about Cascade, Owen was more interested in figuring the whole of his game plan.

“I think Tim’s getting ready to make an offer. I’ll call him and let him know Saturday’s fine, then.”

“Wow,” Jordan said. “First Solstice and now Cascade. It’d be pretty neat to sell two horses in as many weeks.”

“Yeah, and I have a feeling Bob may be back with another client for Beat the Clock.”

“How are you with Tim buying Cascade, Margot?” Jordan asked before tacking on an explanation for Owen’s benefit. “Cascade is Mystique’s first foal.”

“And Mystique is Margot’s horse,” Max told him. “She had a pony, too.”

“That’s right, Max. My pony’s name was Suzy Q. I adored her,” Margot answered as she went around the table clearing the children’s dessert plates. “Travis, hon, could you wipe Olivia’s mouth? She missed with the strawberries a couple of times. I guess I’m okay with Tim buying Cascade,” she said, answering Jordan’s question. Carrying the dishes to the kitchen sink, she maneuvered around Owen. “So, Owen, how’s the house coming?”

He drew the cork out of the wine bottle with a pop. “It’s going well. The electrician’s finished with the wiring, and Doug and Jesse have replaced the old plumbing so the baths and kitchen will be ready when the materials arrive. We installed a new furnace two days ago. So I’d say things are proceeding even better than I hoped. Oh, by the way, Travis, I ordered those stall doors you recommended. I’ll let you know when they arrive.”

“And we’re going to visit Hawk Hill,” Max said in case anyone had forgotten.

“That’s right, Max, after you see Daddy this weekend. Now, let’s say good night to everyone.”

“Why don’t I put the kids to bed?” Margot’s suggestion was met with cries of “Yes! Yes! And we can read
Clip Clop
” from Kate and Max.

“Your idea meets with unanimous approval,” Jordan said lightly. “Thanks. This way I can get dinner on the table sooner. Jade was quizzing me about tonight’s menu and gave it her stamp of approval. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t come down for her premeal grazing.”

“Homework, probably,” Margot said. “Come on, kids. You want to come up and read
Clip Clop
, Travis?”

“Thanks, but I’m going to call Tim and let him know Saturday’s okay with Jordan.”

Travis’s plan to remain downstairs was fine with Owen. His presence would make it far less obvious that Owen was maintaining a careful distance from Jordan, keeping on his side of the granite island with Jordan on the other. Once
she started cooking and the smell of sautéing garlic, sausage, and broccoli rabe filled his nostrils, he might be able to relax.

It killed him, though, that she looked so lovely, with the tendrils of her hair curling from the steam rising from the pasta water. He knew if he put his lips to the underside of her jaw, her skin would be as soft as a dew-covered rose. And she would smell like baby powder. Christ.

Travis was setting the kitchen table and Owen was slicing a thick loaf of rustic Italian bread when Margot came back downstairs.

“The kids behave themselves?” Jordan asked, stirring the sausage and rabe.

Margot nodded. “Of course.”

“Is Jade not ready yet?”

“She said she didn’t want dinner,” she replied, sounding preoccupied.

Jordan paused in the midst of stirring. “Not hungry? Pasta’s her favorite.”

“I know. I offered to bring her up a plate.”

“Oh. I’ll get one ready. She’s had a bunch of end-of-the-year assignments.”

But Margot was shaking her head. “She didn’t even want a plate brought up. I offered, too.”

“But—”

“She wouldn’t let me in the room, Jordan. Said she wanted to be alone. Shades of last year.”

Owen had no idea what that meant, so he concentrated on dropping the bread into the basket.

“But she was fine upstairs with me. She wanted brownies for dessert. She was going to enlist Owen to persuade you to let them make an appearance at dessert right after she’d gotten the ratcatcher from my closet—Oh my God!”

Jordan looked horror-stricken.

“Jordan, what is it?” He’d been listening to the conversation with equal parts confusion and amusement, unable
to fathom why Jordan and Margot seemed so troubled by Jade’s behavior. It seemed like perfectly normal irrational teen stuff to him.

Jordan didn’t seem to hear him. “The closet,” she repeated in the same tone. “Margot, it’s where I keep the diary. I was distracted and sent her to look for a sleeveless ratcatcher for Charlottesville. You know how Jade is, incapable of finding anything. She tears through a space like a hurricane. I had the diary hidden beneath a pile of shirts—not riding shirts. Do you think …”

Margot was already heading toward the stairs.

“No, Margot, wait.” In a flurry of activity, she turned off the pasta sauce, poured it over the bowl of steaming pasta, and rushed over to her. “Let me go. The diary was in my closet. I need to explain what it was doing there.” She reached out and touched her sister’s arm, “Margot, I am so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Jordan. We should have burned the damned thing last year. Do you think that’s what’s happened?”

She nodded tightly. “Yes, and I can’t stand to think how much finding it will hurt her. Don’t hold dinner. I may be a while.” Offering Owen a quick, strained smile, she ran upstairs.

Jordan rapped on Jade’s door. But though her mind had been racing as she hastened up the stairs to her sister’s room, she had no idea what she was going to say beyond, “Jade, it’s me. Let me in.”

There was silence. Then, “Not interested.”

“I need to speak to you.”

“Nothing to say.”

That flat monotone made Jordan want to weep. She grabbed the door handle and shook it. “Jade, come on, please let me in. You have to let me explain—”

The door opened with a sudden violence. Jade, her face
ravaged by tears, her fingers bony white, was clutching the bright pink leather of Nicole’s diary in a death grip.

“This I gotta hear. So what do you want to explain to me first? That my mom didn’t actually despise me? That she wasn’t screwing around behind my dad’s back? That she wasn’t a total bitch to end all bitches? Yeah, explain it all to me. Make it all nice, like one of your pretty rooms with everything placed just so. Tell me some more lies, Jordan.”

“I—” God, she had no idea why Nicole had written any of the tripe she had.

“Wow, such eloquence. Now I know my mom didn’t mean any of the stuff she was writing. It was all fiction, wasn’t it? Or maybe Mom was playing opposite day whenever she picked up her pen.” Her sneer was ugly and heartbreaking.

Jordan tried to keep her voice level as she pleaded, “It was a
private
diary. No one should read another person’s innermost—”

“That didn’t stop you, though, did it? You read it, and Margot, too, I bet, and then you both spouted bald-face lies to me about how Mom adored Dad.”

“They weren’t lies, Jade.”

“Bull. She didn’t love anyone—not Dad, not me. She was a heartless, selfish bitch. And I was gullible enough to believe you. All those months I spent defending her and getting myself hated for it. All those months I missed her. All those stupid, pointless tears I shed for her, a mother who didn’t give a crap about her only child.”

“That diary doesn’t reflect the true picture of who Nicole was. Who knows what—”

“You know what? I’m not interested in talking anymore.” She made to close the door.

Jordan put her hand on the panel, stopping her. “Jade, I am very sorry that I’ve added to your hurt. I understand that you don’t want to talk to me now. Maybe I can call Stuart Wilde?”

Jade gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, no,” she said shaking her head. “My days of bowling with the Rev are definitely over.” She gave a hard little smile. “And I think you should get Ned to start teaching your kids. I’ve got better ways to spend my time.”

This time she shut the door firmly in Jordan’s face.

None of them ended up eating Jordan’s pasta. Margot was distracted and simply picked at her broccoli rabe and then set her fork back down again. Travis ate a few more bites, but the scowl on his face made Owen think he wouldn’t mind going a few rounds with a punching bag. As for himself, even though he’d been presented with a golden opportunity to make his excuses and get the hell out of Rosewood, he couldn’t stop picturing Jordan’s face before she’d gone to Jade’s room.

If Jordan had looked distraught before, he could only describe her expression when she came back downstairs as haunted.

Crossing the kitchen, she sank wearily into the chair next to his. He wanted nothing more than to draw her into his arms and make everything go away for her.

“How was she? Should I go?”

“It’s bad, Margot. Really bad. Jade’s convinced that every word Nicole wrote was how she really felt. And of course, Jade wasn’t going through it as you and I did. I know I basically skimmed most of it—except the parts where she went on about
him
. But she’s really reading it, giving every word weight and significance. She’s looking at it with the eyes of a grieving daughter who lost her mother way too early. Those stupid rambling entries are convincing her that the mother she loved was actually a selfish monster. Damn that diary.” She shuddered.

Unable to help himself, Owen reached out and began stroking her back, hoping to quiet the tremors wracking her.

“What can we do? Should I call Stuart?”

Jordan shook her head. “No, she refuses to have anything to do with him. That goes for the children, too.”

“What?”

“She’s furious with me because she thinks I was feeding her lies about Nicole. So she’s hit on the best way to get back at me by stopping the lessons with the kids.”

Margot stood. “I’ve got to go up and straighten this out with her.”

“No, don’t,” Jordan said. “I mean, of course you should talk to her, but don’t force her into teaching the kids.”

“But she loves teaching them. She’s so proud that Kate’s beginning to check her diagonals.”

“I know. But I don’t want her to start resenting them. She’s dealing with enough bad feelings. I can work with the kids or maybe I can ask Ned if he has the time. Neither of us will be able to match Jade in the children’s eyes, but that’s the way it is.” She was silent a moment, her expression ineffably sad. “God, whatever prompted me to think that I could figure out the identity of Nicole’s mystery man?”

“I can’t understand what Nicole was doing with a journal in the first place. She wasn’t exactly the reflective type,” Margot muttered as she pushed her chair under the table. “Well, I guess it’s my turn to go match wits with Jade. If only she weren’t so smart. Damn, she was doing so well. Amazingly well, considering what she’s had to go through.”