Never Alone Page 5

  In her bright yellow dress, Lucy turned to him like a daffodil following the sun. He leaned over and kissed Lucy’s lined cheek. Angie dropped her blocks and crawled madly toward him. He bent and captured Angie, swinging her up slightly in the air, making her squeal with delight.

  Jane stiffened. Dressed in work jeans and a light khaki shirt, Cash gazed across at Jane. With his face and neck tanned by days of working in the sun, he looked rugged. He looked glorious. Jane drank in the sight of him, while at the same time an impulse to grab Angie and run made her grip the arms of the wicker chair.

  “Jane, how did Angie do with her second set of shots on Monday?” he asked.

  “I told you I’d call if there was any problem.”

  “That means she had no reaction?”

  “Just a little fussy.” Jane stared up at him, daring him to go on.

  Lucy patted his arm, then turned back to the easel. “I’m so glad you’ll be nearby all summer. I’ll be able to walk over anytime.”

  “Please call first to see if I’m home, because I’ll usually be busy at the site. I’m doing a lot more hands-on with this development. But I’ll look forward to sitting on my pier with you, watching the sun set. I wanted to ask you if you know someone reliable who could clean house for me once a week.”

  “Jane, could your friend Kathy work Cash into her schedule?”

  “I’ll give him her number.” Jane cleared her throat. “What brings you here, Cash?”

  “Cash volunteered to entertain Angie during our sittings, so we can make the most of our time,” Lucy replied. “Isn’t that nice?”

  Many words, none of them nice, went through Jane’s mind. Now she understood Lucy’s question about whether she was avoiding Cash. Had Grandmother, always frank and without subterfuge, set her up? What is going on here? Jane struggled to keep her composure.

  Cash, Angie in his arms, stared directly at Jane as though sending his message loud and clear. I’m here to stay. Get used to it.

  Jane’s awareness of Cash made her stomach feel full of fluttering butterflies, big ones with soft feathery wings. Trying to ignore him, she swung her feet up, letting herself lounge sideways in the chair. “Is this the pose you want?”

  “We started without you, Cash,” Lucy said. “What do you think?” Lucy rested her chin on the back of her hand that held the brush.

  “Is that what you want her to wear?” Cash moved to Jane’s father’s favorite recliner and perched Angie on his lap.

  “It’s her favorite outfit. Don’t you like the contrasts in color and texture?”

  Jane stared at both of them in shock. Lucy never let anyone question her artistic judgment! It was the one thing she wouldn’t stand for!

  “I see what you mean,” Cash mused. “But personally, for a portrait for Marge and Phil’s living room, I see her in a flowered dress like the one you wore that afternoon when we went to the Chicago Historical Society Museum.”

  “You’re right,” Lucy agreed. “Marge would prefer something more feminine on her only daughter. As a matter of fact, I have the dress with me. You remember it, don’t you, Jane? I bought it on my last trip to Paris with your grandfather?”

  “I prefer jeans.” Jane tightened her mouth.

  “But don’t you think your mother would prefer a dress?” Lucy coaxed.

  Jane’s mouth became a straight line. “I suppose. But shouldn’t it be a dress of mine?”

  “No, your mother would recognize the dress. She knows how special it is to me. I think it would make the portrait dearer to her.”

  How could she argue with that? Grimacing inwardly, Jane nodded.

  Lucy smiled at Cash. “I can always count on your sense of style.” She turned back to Jane. “For today, just sit as though you have a dress with a wide skirt flared out on each side of you.” Lucy made spreading motions with her hands.

  Cash pushed back in the recliner and played patty-cake with a grinning Angie. He had seen surprise, argument and reluctant agreement play across Red’s expressive face. He glanced at Jane now sitting in her prim pose. Her shining cap of wavy copper hair caught his eye, as usual. Then he looked into her stormy eyes. The emerald fire in them captured his attention. Why hadn’t he ever noticed how deep and true a green they were?

  With only a fraction of his thoughts on the baby, Cash began a game of peekaboo with Angie. Using Angie as cover, he continued his observation of Jane. She sat still, but did not appear relaxed. Her hand touched her hair, next her copper-flecked nose. She squirmed in her seat. His gaze fastened on her narrow waist and the soft, round curve of her hip. His mind halted there. Why would he be thinking like that about Red?

  Moments passed. Angie’s noises and Lucy’s painting sounds filled the large room.

  Finally Jane said discontentedly, “I don’t know how much longer I can sit still like this.”

  “Talk to me, dear. It will take your mind off posing,” Lucy said.

  “What about?”

  “What did you want to discuss with me just before Cash arrived?” Lucy peered around the easel.

  When Jane remained silent and frowned, Cash wondered if he had been the topic of discussion.

  “It’s a problem I’m having at the shop,” Jane began grudgingly. “Maybe you can help me solve a mini-mystery?”

  “I’m intrigued already. Go on.” Lucy began stroking the canvas with short, exact strokes.

  “When I was closing the shop two nights ago, I went through all the racks, checking sizes like I always do. When I went through the tennis outfits, one size eight was missing. You know how small the shop is and how carefully I choose my inventory—”

  “It wasn’t sold or hung on a different rack under a jacket or left in a dressing room?” Lucy stared at Jane with almost comical concentration.

  “None of the above.” With her lips still held in a half smile for the portrait, Jane’s nose wrinkled. “That was Tuesday. The next day I searched discreetly for it.”

  “So?” Cash pushed up to a sitting position in the recliner. The problem snagged his attention in spite of himself.

  Jane continued, “So this morning it was back on the correct rack.”

  “Ah.” Lucy stepped back from the canvas, scrutinized Jane and frowned.

  “Ah, what?” Jane asked, her tone rising.

  “Sounds to me like someone took it, got cold feet and brought it back,” Lucy said.

  “My thoughts exactly.” Cash kissed the tip of Angie’s nose.

  “But I hate to think that of either Mel or Tish.” Jane sounded troubled.

  “It could have been a customer who made a mistake or regretted shoplifting,” Cash added.

  “Could be.” A narrow line appeared between Jane’s eyebrows. “I don’t like it—period. It gives me a funny feeling to suspect people.”

  “I can understand that, but it shouldn’t happen again. You know some people only learn by doing,” Lucy said.

  “What do you mean?” Jane asked.

  “I mean someone’s conscience taught her honesty is the best policy.” Lucy turned toward Cash. “Didn’t you mention pilfering at your building site?”

  It was a topic he didn’t really want to discuss, but Lucy had made it unavoidable. “Yes. I thought up here I wouldn’t have to hire a security guard for my site like I did in Chicago—”

  “You’re missing things?” Jane asked, sounding unconvinced.

  “Not much, but it’s odd.” Cash’s voice became edged with irritation. “Either the thieves are stupid or clever. I can’t decide which.”

  “What do you mean?” Lucy selected a new brush.

  “It means either the crook is too stupid to try to cover his tracks or it’s the opening volley of trouble—”

  “Trouble? Up here?” Jane said.

  “A north woods version of turf wars. This is a limited market. Maybe some contractor doesn’t want new competition.”

  “That’s foolish,” Jane began.

  “Foolish is right. I play fa
ir, but I always play to win.” Cash stared into Jane’s eyes. He easily read her resistance to him.

  You’d better get used to my being around, Red. I’m in Eagle Lake full-time and you’ll be seeing a whole lot more of me. Count on it. But he couldn’t take his eyes from the afternoon sunlight glinting on Jane’s burnished hair.

  Chapter Four

  Dreading the evening already, Jane parked her red Blazer outside Vitelli’s Villa. As she walked beside her grandmother toward the restaurant, Jane stared down at reflections of streetlights on the wet asphalt. About an hour before, black rain clouds had opened for a brief, intense storm.

  “Besides this dreadful humidity—what’s bothering you?” Lucy asked.

  Jane sighed. “Oh, sitting next to Roger Hallawell and being away from Angie all evening.”

  Lucy slipped her arm into Jane’s. “You’ll handle Mr. Hallawell. And whatever other failings she has, Tish is wonderful with Angie. In fact, it’s been a revelation to me.”

  “Me, too. When I see her with Angie, it makes me forget what a pill she can be. Aunt Claire and Uncle Henry love her so much—”

  “Don’t worry. God will bring her through.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I remember myself at sixteen. The acorn never falls far from the tree.”

  Jane wanted to pursue this comment, but they had reached the entrance of the dimly lit restaurant. A couple coming out of Vitelli’s held the door for them.

  “It’s back in the banquet room,” Jane murmured.

  “Lead the way. I hate these dark dungeon restaurants. An old lady with the start of cataracts has enough trouble as it is.”

  “I didn’t know you had cataracts,” Jane said.

  “It’s not a fact I tell someone whose portrait I’ve just started.”

  Jane shook her head ruefully. “Grandmother!”

  Carmine Vitelli had decorated his restaurant to resemble a café in a vineyard—trellises with bunches of plastic grapes, colorful hanging lanterns, red-and-whitechecked tablecloths topped with candles. Jane had never been able to decide if Carmine Vitelli thought this was the only way to decorate an Italian restaurant or if it was high camp and he was having a good laugh on everyone. Regardless of the interior, Vitelli’s was known for miles around as the best in Italian food, so neither Jane nor anyone else had ever questioned the decor.

  They entered the banquet room. Carmine stood behind the podium welcoming everyone to the dinner. Lucy and Jane slipped quietly into their seats at the table where Rona sat with Jane’s Uncle Henry and Aunt Claire. In the chair beside Jane’s sat Roger Hallawell. He had risen politely to acknowledge Lucy and Jane’s arrival.

  “Good evening, Jane. You’re looking lovely as usual.” Hallawell was a large man in his early forties.

  Jane respected Roger. He had built a successful contracting firm with his own sweat. She could admire that, but what she couldn’t accept was his blatant, unwelcome pursuit of her. She had no intention of becoming his second wife. Across the table, Jane saw the matchmaker’s sparkle in Rona’s eye. Jane promised herself a long chat with Rona very soon.

  The waitresses began serving one of Carmine’s specialties, a salad topped with minced black olives, Parmesan and a sweet red-wine-and-vinegar dressing. Jane’s stomach rumbled in happy anticipation. Carmine sat down.

  Jane bent to draw a tissue from her purse when an unexpected voice said, “Good evening, everyone.” Jane looked up, and her spirits fell. Cash. Why hadn’t she considered he might attend the banquet tonight?

  Cash, dressed in a casual sport jacket in a flattering shade of dark gray, stood behind Lucy. He gazed across at Jane. His black hair was swept away from his face and brushed the back of his collar. Tieless, he’d left the top button of his white shirt open. An unwelcome shimmering coursed down Jane’s arms and legs. His blue eyes taunted her. Sitting up straighter, she attempted to take firm control of herself.

  “Hello, Langley.” Carmine rose to shake hands. “I think you’re over there with the Bannings and the Martins.”

  “Oh, the Bannings!” Lucy popped up from her seat. “Cash, let me trade places with you. I wanted to see them about getting our summer bridge group organized.”

  “Whatever you say, Lucy.” Cash’s attention remained fixed on Jane. Lucy left, and Cash sat down across from Jane.

  “So you’re Langley?” Roger barely concealed the challenge in his voice.

  Cash glanced at the man, then ignoring him, opened his napkin and began to eat his salad.

  “You garnered quite a plum securing that land on Lake Elizabeth. Must be nice to have the right friends,” Roger went on in a derisive tone.

  Cash’s buying Lucy’s property still rankled in Jane’s own mind. Obviously she wasn’t alone.

  “I am privileged to call Lucy Everett my friend,” Cash said stiffly.

  Like a shift in the wind, Jane felt the rest of the people at the table become uneasy. What was Lucy’s reason in placing two competing contractors face-to-face? Did she think putting the two of them together socially would temper their competition?

  “Cash, I’m so glad you were able to come on such short notice.” Rona smiled. “We don’t usually get to see you this often.”

  Cash nodded toward Rona. “I’m happy to dine at Vitelli’s anytime.”

  Though Jane had lost interest in eating, she took a bite of a tomato wedge and tried to look like she enjoyed it.

  “Where’s Angie?” Cash asked Jane pointedly.

  Instantly Jane felt herself bristle, but she kept her tone nonchalant “Oh, I had an offer to sell her to a band of passing gypsies—”

  “Tish is—” Uncle Henry began.

  “Happy to sit with Angie. She is a beautiful child,” Aunt Claire finished.

  “That jumper looks good on you, Claire,” Rona said.

  Claire grinned and blushed. A rust-colored bandanna tied around her neck accented the denim jumper and blue chambray blouse. “I like it myself. I have this niece who keeps me in style.”

  “Keeps us all in style,” Rona agreed.

  “Keeps us all broke,” Carmine complained goodnaturedly.

  “Or employed. I—” Henry said.

  This began one of Aunt Claire’s and Uncle Henry’s famous verbal duets.

  “Jane, we really appreciate your hiring our Leticia so young—” Claire cut in on her husband.

  Henry took over, “We explained what an opportunity it was for her. Most sophomores are lucky—”

  “To be serving hamburgers somewhere,” Claire added.

  By now everyone at the table followed the conversation like a Ping-Pong game.

  “The job at your shop exposes her to so many job skills—” Henry went on.

  “And she can buy such nice clothes—”

  “At employee discount,” Henry finished for them.

  Jane glanced around the table to gauge the others’ reactions to her aunt and uncle. Often during one of their “duets,” Jane wondered how it would feel to be so close to someone, you could finish the other person’s sentences.

  In the conversational vacuum after Claire and Henry finished speaking, Carmine and Hallawell started talking sports. Jane nibbled at her salad and looked across the table. The stark beauty of Cash’s blue eyes and his thick black lashes snared Jane’s gaze. She couldn’t take her eyes from him. Suddenly she realized he was aware she was studying his face. He arched an eyebrow, and she felt her cheeks warm. She looked away.

  Rona announced, “Jane, I volunteered you yesterday.”

  “For what?” Jane asked.

  “Art in the Park.”

  “Me?”

  “I’m performing in the puppet show this year,” Rona went on.

  “I’m doing finger painting—” Claire began.

  “With Jell-O,” Henry finished.

  “But,” Jane said, slightly exasperated, “I’m not artsy—”

  “We have a new tent—perfect for you,” Rona said. “The Dre
ss-Up Tent, filled with old clothes, high heels, you know!”

  “I planned to take Angie this year,” Jane said in desperation.

  “I’ll be glad to take her through the exhibits while you work,” Cash said, delivering the coup de grace.

  Jane’s spirits sank. For seven years, she’d avoided Art in the Park. Now, the year she planned to take Angie, she would be stuck at a workstation.

  “My crew volunteered to help put up and break down the exhibits. In a small town, everyone takes part in civic activities.” Roger directed his attention at Cash.

  Instant silence ensued. Jane wished she could slip out and go home to Angie. Why couldn’t Hallawell just leave things alone? What did he think he would gain by goading Cash? Or did the man think at all before speaking?

  Cash sent the contractor a frigid glare. The waitress who placed bubbling lasagna in front of him interrupted the confrontation. The rich aroma of the lasagna wafted around the table.

  With a defiant glance toward Cash, Roger leaned close to Jane’s ear and said, “Did I tell you I just dropped a bundle on a new Sea Nautique?”

  Jane shook her head.

  “Do you still water-ski?”

  “I don’t have much time—”

  “You’ve got to make time for yourself. Now why don’t I pick you up tomorrow afternoon? We’ll take my boat out and see what she can do.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, now come on, honey.”

  Cash cut in, sounding bored, “She doesn’t want to go water-skiing with you. I can’t blame her.”

  Hallawell’s face turned scarlet, but he went on talking about the new speedboat to Carmine.

  Cash tried to rid himself of the pique this man seemed to relish causing. Hallawell’s presence had somehow intensified Cash’s awareness of Jane. Cash couldn’t stop resenting the way Hallawell hovered next to her. He didn’t like any man who acted as though a woman should be grateful for his attention. On the contrary, Jane was a woman who could command any man’s attention. She deserved only the best.

  No matter which way Cash turned, Jane’s warm, bright hair caught his eye. When she nodded and talked to her aunt, her copper waves bounced and caught the candlelight. He almost shifted restlessly in his seat, but realizing that this would send a signal of discomfort to the smug competitor across from him, he stilled his body.