The Sapphire Pendant (13 page)

“That was a waste of time,” Jessie grumbled on the drive home. “How am I supposed to charm him with a pair of socks?”

“Easy,” Michelle said. “Wear them and nothing else.”

“If you weren’t driving, I’d hit you.”

“You can just borrow our clothes,” Teresa said. “We have other things to focus on.”

“Like what?”

Teresa sent Michelle a conspiratorial grin, but neither said anything.

Chapter 10

“No, no, no! I will not let you put that on me!” Jessie said, ducking Teresa’s attempts to put a mud mask on her face.

“It will tighten your pores.”

“My pores are fine.”

Teresa frowned. “Stop being a baby. It’s painless.”

“No.”

She waved the jar. “It’s for the pendant.”

Jessie sighed, glanced at Michelle, and surrendered. She groaned as her face hardened. “This feels awful. Why do women do this to themselves?”

Teresa buffed her nails. “Because it’s worth it.”

“You’ll thank us later,” Michelle said. “Now, where are the hot curling irons?”

Jessie stiffened. “No!”

“Stop shouting,” Teresa scolded. “You’ll crack your face.”

“No hot curlers.” She held out her hands as Michelle came towards her. “You burned me last time.”

“Oh, quiet,” Michelle said. “I was only ten at the time, and you had annoyed me.” She found it and plugged it in. “Now, just keep still or my hand might slip…again.”

An hour later, Jessie stared at Michelle, incredulous. “You want me to spray perfume where?”

“In your underwear drawer,” Michelle said. “Don’t look appalled. Imagine how good you’ll feel opening your drawer and smelling the scent of roses. You need to get in touch with your sensual side.”

She glanced at the lavender Teresa had set about the room. “I’m trying.”

“Remember to look at him when he talks,” Teresa said.

Michelle added, “But don’t stare.”

“Speak your mind.”

“But don’t interrupt.”

“Smile.”

“But not too often.”

“And relax.”

“But never show it.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “Thanks. That sounds easy enough.”

On Sunday night, they helped her pack, using one of Michelle’s expensive cases.

Teresa held up a bottle in Jessie’s face. “This is called lotion,” she said slowly. “You use it on your body to keep it soft and moisturized.”

Jessie snatched it from her, offended. “I know that.”

“It would be nice of you to show it, then.”

“Try to remember to iron your clothes,” Michelle said.

Teresa began, “As for your makeup—”

“I don’t wear makeup,” Jessie cut in.

“Don’t force me to point out the obvious. At least try these.” She handed Jessie some rouge and lipstick. “It won’t hurt.”

Jessie shook her head. “This whole thing is not about looks, it’s about charm.”

“Like I said, it won’t hurt.” She put the makeup in the bag. “I’m also giving you lullaby oil, mango juice, and papaya cream for your face.”

“Thanks,” she grumbled. “At night, when I get hungry, I’ll think of eating them for my snack.”

“Now try to get a good night’s rest,” Michelle said. “There’s no need to arrive at his place with bags under your eyes,”

Teresa nodded. “And don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” she lied. Her heart was already beating out a SOS.
Save me from my sisters. Save me from myself and my own foolish pride
. How could anyone think clothes and some makeup could suddenly change them? Kenneth had already seen through her “Michelle” disguise.

“It will be all right,” Teresa said.

“Unless—” Michelle stopped when Teresa nudged her in the ribs. “You’ll be fine.”

They both said good night, then left.

Jessie sat on the bed and tugged on her necklace with anxious fingers. What had she gotten herself into? She went to her full-length mirror and ran a hand over her face. Why couldn’t God have given her some looks?

She tried to pout, as she had seen models do in magazine ads, but ended up looking like a scary aunt waiting for a kiss. It was no use; even though she had all the features necessary to be pretty, she was ordinary. And what was wrong with that? She had been that way all her life and her parents had taught her that all things created had beauty.

She ran a hand down her body and flaunted it in the mirror. She had a nice figure, if you were into round hips, strong arms, and a full chest. She fell down onto the bed, and the mattress bounced up and down under her weight. This bet wasn’t about looks, anyway; it was about charm and confidence. If only she could find some. She fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Damn it, she had done it again. She had gotten into a situation where she would ultimately end up the loser. All because of false pride—and a false hope that she was better than she actually was. She’d been that way over ten years ago, and to her disgust, she was still the same way again. The family failure…the family disappointment.

But what if she could win the bet? What if she surprised everyone and succeeded at something nobody thought she could? She would be a heroine. The Sapphire Pendant would be back in their possession, and generations of Cliftons would live to tell the tale of how Jasmine Clifton had won it back. She had to win. She could not deprive Clifton descendants of their heritage.

She had to get over the memories of his betrayal. She wasn’t that girl anymore; she was a woman now, with a woman’s cunning. In a month, she planned to hold the pendant in her hand. Jessie stood and went to the collection of stones she kept on a bookshelf. She glanced at the rich blue of a labradorite, the deep red of a fire opal, a brilliant amber, and a somber topaz. She ran her hand over the collection, then grabbed a pink tourmaline, a stone known to relieve nervous tension and enhance self-esteem. She lay on the bed with the stone resting in her palm and let the healing energy sweep through her. Calm soon descended.

“Okay Dad, I’m doing this for you,” she whispered. “I’m going to charm Kenneth and get the pendant back, and then you can be proud of me. You too, Mum.” She blinked back tears, gripped the stone in her fist, and sat up. She would succeed. She had no other choice.

Her bedroom door opened a crack. Michelle peeked in. “You know, it’s not too late to change your mind.”

Jessie picked up a pillow and threw it at her.

* * *

The sky that Monday morning was as indecisive as Jessie’s mood. The sun reluctantly made an appearance through a stream of clouds, only to decide that it would much rather sleep, leaving the day warm but gray. She was thankful for the half-hour drive to Bedford, a community known for its huge houses and affluent residents. It gave her time to practice the smile she would use. She silently rehearsed what she would say and what delicate hand gestures she could use.

As she drove up Kenneth’s meandering gravel drive, she expected to see a magnificent mansion with pillars and huge windows. Instead, she approached a simple two-story, white-and-blue colonial home with lively green bushes and magnolias lining the walkway. Behind the house loomed a forest, like a protective mother hen.

She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. She had taken extra care with her looks, ironing her blue blouse and making sure her jeans were clean and without holes. Michelle’s curls had given her hair a nice bounce, and Teresa had outlined her eyes with a smoky purple eye pencil to make them appear brighter. Overall, she thought she looked pretty good, considering what she had to work with. She was ready to dazzle Kenneth with her charm.

She got out of the car and walked up the drive, feeling the gravel crunch underneath her sneakers. She rang the doorbell and waited, a smile plastered on her face. Unfortunately, Kenneth didn’t answer. Instead an older, medium-sized woman opened the door. She reminded Jessie of a kangaroo with her bouncy enthusiasm, animated wide mouth, and light brown eyes.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re not one of those silly girls after Kenneth,” she said in a faint Georgia accent, giving Jessie a once-over. She narrowed her eyes. They disappeared into slits in her slightly wrinkled brown face. “You aren’t, are you? He’s got enough trouble without some woman filling up his time.”

“I’m just here for Ace,” she assured her.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I’m also pleased you’re not family. His family could drive a nun to hell. I’m Freda.” She held out her hand and gave Jessie’s hand an enthusiastic pump. “Good.” She nodded in approval. “A nice, sturdy girl. You didn’t give me one of those dead-fish handshakes. Can’t stand those either. Makes me want to reel them in and fry them. ” Freda looked down at Jessie’s suitcase. “I suppose you’re going to stay here at the house?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I just made up one of the guest bedrooms for you. Mr. Preston said that you probably wouldn’t stay, but I made it up for you anyway.” She winked. “Glad I did, aren’t you?”

“Yes, very glad.”

“Come inside, dear, come inside.” She grabbed Jessie’s elbow and yanked her inside like a naughty child caught doing mischief. She closed the door behind her with her foot. “Follow me. Try not to touch anything. I just finished dusting and polishing.”

Jessie snatched her hand back from a sculpture she was about to examine. “Looks very clean.”

When she stepped into the living room, her eyes fell on the chocolate couch stuffed with red pillows one could cuddle into, then her gaze shifted to a fireplace perfect for cold nights. She glanced up at a skylight that let the sunlight through like a welcomed guest, then looked at a patio perfect for lazy Sunday afternoons. She walked over to a small oak desk in the corner of the living room, inhaling the scent of baked bread and jam that floated through the air.

“So, what do you think?” Freda asked, clasping her hands together with pride. “Not bad for a bachelor, huh? Mr. Preston decorated it himself.”

Jessie felt strange hearing Freda refer to Kenneth as Mr. Preston, since she was old enough to be his mother. She hoped he didn’t expect her to adopt such a habit. “It’s really nice.”

“More than nice, I’d say.” She straightened a picture frame. “It’s downright homey. Like you, I was surprised. You’d think a man would at least have a stuffed deer head somewhere, a rifle, or even a stuffed fish. You know how men love killing things, but not even a stuffed flea is to be found in this house. God bless him.”

No, Kenneth didn’t have stuffed animal heads, but he did have trophies and plaques placed about the house, like a narcissistic shrine. At least that fit his personality.

Jessie shrugged, knowing Freda was waiting for a reply. “Kenneth was never into things like that.”

“Oh?” Freda looked at Jessie as if seeing her for the first time. “You know Mr. Preston well?”

Too well. Jessie cleared her throat and chose her words carefully. “Well, no, not really. Um…we used to go to school together.”

“Oh, I see. Old schoolmates.” She smiled, widening her mouth an incredible distance. “Well, isn’t that nice?” She glanced around the room. “Let me tell you that everything is in order. You don’t have to worry about leaking roofs, creaky floors, or dirty pipes. Mr. Preston always makes sure that this place is in perfect condition, in case someone needs a place to stay.” She briefly raised her eyes upward. “Which happens enough with his family. He’s just so kind and generous.”

And perfect, of course
. “Doesn’t he come home?” Jessie asked, following Freda to the kitchen.

“Sometimes, but usually he stays at his office.”

Jessie silently groaned. Great. He was either a workaholic or a womanizer. Neither scenario was encouraging. It was hard to charm an invisible man.

“Mr. Preston had me stock the fridge in case you came.” Freda opened the refrigerator to back up her claim. It was overflowing with food: boxed juices, fruit, vegetables, and kids’ snacks. She closed it and opened the pantry. It also bulged with enough crackers, crisps, and cookies to create a food avalanche. “And he said that chocolate chip cookies were your favorite, so I picked up a few.”

“That was kind of you.”

“No. Don’t give me the credit,” Freda said, brushing away the praise. “It wasn’t my idea.”

Jessie tried to smile. She should be grateful. It was a kind gesture on his part, but the fact that he remembered her favorite cookies annoyed her. It chipped at the shield she had cultivated against him. Yes, they were at a ceasefire, but she still didn’t like him. She couldn’t afford to like him. She knew where that had gotten her before.

Freda led her upstairs to her bedroom. “Your bathroom has fresh towels, and we have a state-of-the-art intercom system.” She described how to operate it and talked about other domestic issues before finally handing Jessie the keys to the house. She then dug into her pocket and handed Jessie a piece of paper. “Mr. Preston said that you can reach him at this number if you have questions or concerns.”

“Thanks.” Jessie folded the paper. “Freda, may I ask you a question?”

Freda puffed up a pillow and straightened out the bedsheet. “Sure.”

“Why do you call him Mr. Preston? I mean…you’re older than him.”