The Best of Friends (11 page)

Interesting possibilities, she thought as she got into her car and started the engine. There were always interesting possibilities.

Three days later Jayne found herself crawling through traffic. The café was by the Beverly Center in a trendy, crowded, and expensive part of town. Parking was impossible, so Jayne pulled in front of the valet sign, then groaned when she saw the price—there went twenty dollars she would never see again.

She got out and made her way past the crowd of people waiting. Inside, the hostess eyed her with a combination of indifference and superiority.

“The wait for lunch is over an hour,” she said, looking over Jayne’s shoulder, as if hoping to see Jennifer Aniston or Madonna come strolling in.

“I’m meeting someone,” Jayne said, used to being dismissed in places like this. She didn’t have that air of polished wealth or cutting-edge fashion. She was a regular person. This was not a regular-person part of town. “Elizabeth Worden.”

The hostess immediately came to attention and smiled warmly. “Of course. She’s here and expecting you. Right this way.”

She led Jayne through a maze of tables, each covered with organic cotton tablecloths and matching napkins. The wallpaper was probably hemp or bamboo; the overhead light fixtures proudly displayed their low-energy lightbulbs. The scent of cinnamon and ginger hovered in the air.

Elizabeth’s table was in a quiet alcove. It was larger than most. There was no bread basket—the truly rich and thin didn’t do carbs—although a martini glass sat in front of the older woman.

Jayne hadn’t wanted to “do lunch.” She was still recovering from her last meeting with Elizabeth. But saying no was difficult, so she’d made a couple of feeble excuses and then had accepted. Plus, she needed to tell Elizabeth about her new job. Her only concession to self-preservation was a promise to herself that if Elizabeth started getting mean, she would walk away—avoiding a scene be damned.

“Jayne,” Elizabeth said with a welcoming smile. “Thank you so much for joining me. Please, sit. Timothy has already told me about the specials, and there’s a ravioli you are going to love.”

“Thanks.” Jayne sank into the chair opposite Elizabeth’s.

“It’s gorgonzola and walnut with a sweet curry sauce. But you’ll want to look over the menu first. How are you feeling? Is your arm better?”

The friendly questions and concern were almost unnerving, but Jayne knew Elizabeth could be charming when it suited her. She did it just enough to lull people into a false sense of relaxation, then pounced.

“I’m great,” she said.

Timothy appeared with bottled water and a menu. He listed the specials, which included the famous ravioli. Jayne refused an offer of a cocktail or wine and chose the ravioli. Elizabeth got the salmon salad, no dressing, no cheese.

When they were alone, Elizabeth leaned forward. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “I want to plan another party for David. The brunch was a disaster. Rebecca completely stole all the attention, and he barely had a chance to talk to the young women I’d invited. So I’m thinking of a dinner.”

“Your dinner parties are always events,” Jayne said.

“Yes, and you know I prefer elegant. But to give David a chance to talk with as many people as possible, I’m considering a buffet.”

Jayne couldn’t hide her surprise.

Elizabeth chuckled, then sipped on her martini. “I know, I know. Not my style, but sacrifices must be made. He swears he’s back to settle down and get married. I need to make sure he finds the right sort of woman. If I leave him to do that on his own, disaster will follow.”

“The ladies do like him,” Jayne said, thinking how much she had enjoyed their last encounter. The man knew how to kiss. Probably from years of practice. Dinner had been amazing, too. Three hours of great conversation. In fact, she wasn’t sure which she enjoyed more—the kissing or the talking. She would need a lot more of both before she could decide.

She reached for her water, then paused. Wait a minute. If he was home to find the perfect someone and get married, what was he doing kissing her? She wasn’t his type. And even if he had a fleeting thought that she might be fun to get to know, he had to be aware that his parents wouldn’t consider her appropriate.

Issues for another time, she told herself.

“You’ll help with the party?” Elizabeth asked. “I want your thoughts on the guest list and what we should serve. It will be so much work, but worth it.”

“You can count on me,” Jayne said automatically.

The smile returned. “I knew I could. At the party itself, you can help me watch him and figure out who has caught his attention. I already spoke to David, and he’s looking forward to the dinner. We’ll pick a day and then get going on the details.”

“Does he know you’re helping him find a wife?” she asked.

“Why on earth would I mention that? He’s aware of the ultimate goal but little else. He’s a man—he’s not interested in the details. Besides, there will be a houseful of beautiful, well-connected, successful women keeping him company. That’s hardly bad for him.”

Timothy appeared with their lunches. Although the pasta smelled heavenly, Jayne found she wasn’t as hungry as she had thought. She was also very clear on the reason. Elizabeth’s description of the party had provided her with a visual of David in a sea of perfect women. Women who weren’t her.

It wasn’t that she wanted to be them, either. She was happy with herself and her life. It was just the stupid crush. Having David kiss her didn’t help with the whole getting-over-him process. Maybe she should talk to him about that. Explain her goal and remind him of his and his mother’s. Although admitting to her crush wasn’t something she would likely have the nerve to do. Which left her feeling uncomfortable and annoyed.

“Did he bring anyone to see the last house?” Elizabeth asked.

“No. It was just the real estate agent and me.”

“Good. Then he hasn’t found anyone yet. I can narrow the choices down to two or three and guide him in that direction. We’ll have him engaged before he knows what happened.”

Jayne pushed the ravioli around on her plate and wished she’d ordered wine. “Lucky us.”

Elizabeth said something else about the party, but Jayne wasn’t listening. She was already feeling crappy, so she might as well get it all over at once. “Elizabeth, I was in Dallas last week.”

“What? Why on earth would you go there?”

Jayne explained about the phone call and the job offer.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You can’t seriously be considering moving.”

“I’ve already accepted. I start in two months. I met with a real estate agent, and my condo is going up for sale at the end of the week.”

Color bled from Elizabeth’s face. “No. I forbid it. With David just home and getting him settled, this is the worst time imaginable. No.” She gripped her martini. “Talk about selfish! After all I’ve done for you.” She leaned over the table. “You will pick up your cell phone right now and call that place and tell them you’ve changed your mind.”

Jayne stared at the woman across from her. Elizabeth had been a huge part of her life for over a decade. The selfish demands, the accusations were new but not surprising. It was Elizabeth’s way. Jayne had no idea what life without the Wordens would be like, but it was time to find out.

She collected her purse and stood.

“You’ve always been good me,” she said softly. “And I’ve paid you back a thousandfold. If you want my help until I leave, I’m happy to give it. If not, then I wish you the best. Good-bye, Elizabeth.”

Jayne turned and left.

Ten

“I’M NOT MYSELF,” REBECCA said dramatically, draped across the sofa, her eyes closed, her perfect face flushed.

“Then who are you?” Jayne asked.

Rebecca opened her eyes. “You know what I mean, and don’t pretend you don’t. I’m desperately depressed. Nothing about coming home is the way I thought it would be. I haven’t even been fighting with my mother, and you know how I was looking forward to that.”

“Then go see her. I’m sure the two of you could get into it. Then you’ll upset her and feel better yourself.”

“I’m not going to be the one to blink first. If I go there, she wins. I want to win.” She sat up and sighed. “But it’s not just that. You’re leaving.”

A topic that was bound to come up sooner or later. “Yes, I am.”

“You’re leaving me. We’re supposed to be friends.”

If Jayne didn’t know Rebecca better, she would swear that actual tears had filled her eyes and that her lower lip had quivered. But she did know her, and she understood every one of Rebecca’s self-absorbed tendencies, not to mention her tricks.

“I love you like a sister,” Jayne said calmly, “but no. My leaving is not up for negotiation. You went halfway around the world ten years ago, and I didn’t try to make you feel guilty. You stayed gone, and I was warm and supportive. I expect the same from you.”

“But this is different. I’m back, and I want you here.”

“Want some cheese with that whine?”

“You’re not being very sympathetic,” Rebecca complained.

Jayne leaned back in the club chair. “Probably because I’m not feeling sympathetic. There’s nothing wrong with your life. You’re young, beautiful, successful, and rich. You have a family who loves you, a best friend with the devotion of a search-and-rescue dog, and all the potential in the world.” She raised her left hand. “I, on the other hand, have a broken wrist and had to face telling your mother I was leaving.”

Rebecca grinned. “That was the best story ever. Tell me again.”

“I’ve already told you three times.”

“It gets better with every telling.” She sighed. “You’re very difficult these days. Very sure of yourself. Worse, you have a shiny new love interest, and all I have is an old, boring man.”

Jayne desperately wanted to squirm. “David isn’t a love interest. He’s a… complication.”

“A nice one.”

“Definitely.” A complication that kissed like the devil and charmed her and made her laugh. David was the best kind of trouble.

Rebecca sat up, her eyes wide, her mouth open. “Oh, no. There’s a party, for David. Now don’t get upset, but my mother plans to—”

“Have several perfect women over so he can pick the right wife. I know. We had lunch to discuss the details. Then I announced I was leaving, so I don’t know if I’ll be helping or not.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Jayne wasn’t sure. “I’ll do it if she asks.”

“But you’re dating David.”

“We’re not dating. We’ve been to dinner once. We talk and house hunt. We’ve kissed. It was no big deal.” At least not to him, which was what she would be reminding herself over and over again. “I’m offering my advice, such as it is, on the houses he’s looking at, and I think he’s asking me along only because the alternative is his mother. It’s nothing.”

“That bad a kisser, huh?” Rebecca asked, her voice teasing.

“I’m not discussing him with you because, hey, he’s your brother. Do you really want to know?”

Rebecca wrinkled her nose. “Right. I don’t. But this has to bother you. You don’t just go around kissing guys for the fun of it.”

“Only because they’re not asking.” Jayne wasn’t about to admit the truth. The crush made it beyond difficult to think about David falling for some rich, connected, beautiful woman. Not that his going after someone who wasn’t rich, connected, or beautiful was any better. The more she got to know him, the more she liked him. The crush had been fueled by what she thought he
should
be. The liking was based on who he actually was, and that was the problem.

“David’s great,” she said. “But so what? Are we going to get involved? Am I ‘the One’? You warned me yourself, he doesn’t do relationships.”

“Okay, but you’re wonderful. He could fall for you. You’re smart and funny and loving and pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

Rebecca sighed. “So few are.”

“We both know the type David will marry. It’s not me, and I’m okay with that.” Mostly. “Besides, I’m trying to get away from your family. I’m relocating to another state to escape the stress of the Worden clan. Getting serious with David would make a real mess.”

“But if you like him…” Rebecca began.

“No, it’s not going to happen. This is nice. Fun. Nothing more.” She couldn’t let it be. For all her daydreams about the man, she understood reality. The rich really were different, and she was okay with that.

“And while we’re on the subject of men,” Jayne said deliberately. “How are things with Jonathan?”

Rebecca groaned, then rested her head on the back of the sofa. “Can you spell disaster?”

“What’s wrong with Jonathan?”

“He likes me.”

“The bastard.”

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“I know. Part of my charm.”

Rebecca drew in a breath. “He likes me too much. I want a fling. He wants more.”

“You want to piss off Elizabeth.”

“That, too. He’s clingy and annoying. The sex is awful, but that’s more about me than him.” She slumped down into the corner of the sofa and folded her arms across her chest. “I miss Nigel.”

Which was the heart of the problem. “More or less than you did?”

“Less,” she admitted, “but not a whole lot less.”

“Still, it’s progress.”

“I guess. I just thought…” She sat up. Her expression turned fierce. “I can’t believe he chose someone else over me. I know he loves me. Our relationship was amazing. He won’t have that with anyone else. What does she have that I don’t?”

“Controlling interest in Australia’s second largest diamond mine.”

Rebecca slumped back against the cushions. “It’s not just the money. Obviously the diamonds were a big appeal, but there’s something else. I can’t figure out if I was too much for him, or if I wanted too much or demanded too much.”

“Why does it have to be you?” Jayne asked, annoyed. “This really pisses me off. Why do we, as women, assume it’s our fault? I do it, too. Take the blame. Try to fix things. Maybe it’s not you. Maybe you’re the ideal combination of exciting and sexy and fun. Maybe it’s him. He could have married her for the money or access to the diamonds he loves so much. Or maybe because she was easier or safer. Maybe he has a brain tumor that’s interfering with his frontal lobe. I’m not saying you’re perfect, I’m saying don’t assume it’s just you.”

“That was quite the rant.”

“I am passionate about a few subjects. I hate how women subjugate themselves to men, emotionally. Sometimes the woman is the problem, but sometimes she isn’t. Sometimes it’s both of them.”

“Are you projecting?”

“A little, which is my right.” Jayne leaned forward. “It’s not you. It’s Nigel.”

“I’m not sure knowing that will make it hurt less.”

“Maybe not, but eventually the information will help.”

“Maybe. I think I’m going to have to dump Jonathan. He’s not worth the effort.”

“You could consider finding a guy you want to be with because of how he makes you feel rather than how it will piss off your mother,” Jayne said.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Are you sorry you came home?”

“Not yet.”

Jayne considered her words carefully. “Is it possible revenge isn’t as much fun as you’d hoped?”

“I’m not even going to consider that. Elizabeth and I have just begun our game. I still plan to win.”

“Great.”

There were casualties in any battle. Jayne just hoped she could stay out of the cross fire.

* * *

Rebecca did her best to work through her bout of self-pity with a Pilates class and a double-shot energy drink. When that didn’t work, she curled up with a bottle of wine and all three Bourne movies. Matt Damon went a long way to making her feel better about herself, and she woke the following morning feeling ready to take on the world. She showered, put on makeup, and dressed, but before she could leave, someone rang her doorbell.

Immediately her heart jumped in her chest. She desperately wanted her visitor to be Nigel, coming to beg her forgiveness. He would tell her that he’d made a huge mistake marrying Ariel, that he was sorry and would spend the rest of his life making it up to her. If only, she thought as she crossed to the door and pulled it open.

It wasn’t Nigel, or Jayne, or even David. Instead, her mother stood in the hallway, looking as well groomed as ever, her mouth slightly pinched, as if she had a painful rash somewhere that chafed.

“Rebecca,” Elizabeth said, pushing past her and walking into the condo. She stopped in the middle of the living room. “This is nice. A little more public than I would like, but the view works.” She set her Louis Vuitton bag on the table by the sofa and crossed to the sliding-glass doors. “You’re renting?”

Rebecca closed the door. “Yes. I don’t know how long I’ll be in Los Angeles.”

“Long enough to be an annoyance to me, I’m sure.”

The harsh words created a slight twinge of pain, but Rebecca ignored it. “I look for my happiness where I can find it. What brings you here, Mother?”

Elizabeth turned to face her. “I thought you would have come to see me by now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my daughter, and you’re back in town. It was the least you could have done after ruining my brunch. But you were never one to apologize.”

Rebecca squared her shoulders. “I didn’t realize an apology was required for visiting my family. My mistake. I assumed you would be happy to see me after all this time. It’s been what? Ten years? I guess a ‘Welcome home’ is too much to ask for.”

“Oh, please.” Elizabeth crossed to the sofa and sat. “Is that really what you want? You left without saying a word, without an explanation. Why would you care what we think after all this time?”

“I don’t,” Rebecca told her. “But to clarify your memory, I didn’t leave without an explanation. We had a fight. You were horrible. I ran away.”

Elizabeth sighed. “You were eighteen. One runs away when one is five or six. And the fight was because you had taken a very expensive necklace from the store. A willful bid for attention. You were always flashy, Rebecca. So low class.”

“Something I get from you?”

Elizabeth stiffened, then visibly relaxed. “I see time away hasn’t changed you at all.”

“Did you expect it to?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

Rebecca knew she was different, but not in ways that would matter to her mother.

She started to say that she hadn’t taken the necklace, but after all this time, what was the point? She would have, if she’d thought of it. Instead, taking the fall for Jayne had suited her. She’d used that fight as an excuse to leave.

“I am different, Mother, but I doubt you’ll believe me.”

“What are your plans, now that you’re back? Make more trouble? Is this about your brother? You’ve always resented him.”

The unfairness of the statement burned. David was the favorite, the wanted child. Rebecca had been angry and hurt, but she’d never resented her brother. She just wanted the same kind of treatment.

“You mean will I get in the way of your marrying him off?”

Elizabeth looked startled. “What are you talking about?”

Rebecca relaxed a little. “David tells me everything. We’re close. We have been for years. Didn’t he mention that? When I left, he’s the one I went to. Your precious son has been watching out for me. Someone had to. I knew nothing about being on my own. Not that you worried. Or bothered to get in touch.” Even Blaine had come to check on her, but not Elizabeth. “You must have been relieved to have me gone.”

Elizabeth stood. “I refuse to rehash our past. You may find it interesting, but I don’t.”

“That’s it? You don’t have an explanation? One of your children disappears and you’re fine with that?”

“What do you want from me?”

A little caring, Rebecca thought bitterly. A hint of maternal feeling. “Nothing,” she said. “Which is what you’ve been doing, so it will feel very familiar.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together. “I see it’s still all about you. Very well. Tell me why you’re back.”

“No.”

Elizabeth crossed to the table and picked up her purse. “Very mature. Impressive. How proud we all are of you.”

“Jonathan doesn’t have any complaints.”

To her credit, Elizabeth’s calm facade didn’t even crack. “He’s been a good and loyal friend to your father and me. I hope you’ll treat him with the respect he deserves.”

“Did you? Did you like having sex with him, Mom? Did you talk to Dad about it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. As to your reasons for returning, keep them secret if you like. My concern is your brother. David is ready to settle down. I want him to be happy.”

“With the right sort of girl.”

“Do you think he could be happy with the wrong sort?” Elizabeth crossed to the front door, then turned back. “The problem with you, Rebecca, is that you like to play at being just like everyone else, then you get angry when you’re treated that way. There’s nothing wrong with the world of privilege. There never has been. You could have had everything. Instead, you tossed it all away. Play whatever game you want. I don’t care.”

She left. Rebecca stared after her, refusing to feel the sharp pain in her heart.

“You never have,” she whispered to the empty room.

Jayne pulled the cookie sheet of mini taquitos out of the oven, glanced at the clock on the stove, and swore. She was running late. She set the taquitos on the cooling rack, then glanced around her kitchen to see what else had to be prepped.

David walked in and saw the cookie sheet. “Those look good.”

“Don’t even think about it. You can wait until everyone else gets here.”

“Bossy. I like it.” He winked at her.

“Then you’ll enjoy carrying in that bowl of tortilla chips and the salsa. Does everything fit on the coffee table? Will we have room for drinks?”