Beloved (8 page)

200

Beloved

"Certainly, dear. You just rest. I'll have some coffee and sand-
wiches
ready when you want them."

Would she ever want them?
Tira
wondered as she went slowly
toward her bedroom. She was empty and
cold and sick at heart.
But that seemed to
be her normal condition. At least for now.

Chapter 4

It was raining the day
Tira
began taking her
sculptures to Bob Henderson's "Illuminations" art gallery for her
showing. She was
so gloomy she hardly felt the mist on
her face. Christmas was
only two weeks
away and she was miserable and lonely. Only months before, she'd have phoned
Simon and asked him to meet
her for lunch in
town, or she'd have shown up at some committee
meeting or benefit conference at which he was present, just to
feed her hungry heart on the sight of him. Now, she had
nothing. Only Charles and his infrequent, undemanding company. Charles
was a sweetheart, but it was like having a brother over
for coffee.

She carried the last box carefully in the back door,
which Lillian
Day, the gallery's manager was holding
open for her.

"That's the last of them, Lillian,"
Tira
told her, smiling as she
surveyed the cluttered storage room. She shook her head. "I can't
believe I did all those myself."

"It's
a lot of work," Lillian agreed, smiling back. She bent to
open one of the boxes and frowned slightly at
what was inside. "Did you mean to include this?" she asked,
indicating a bust of Simon that was painfully lifelike.

Tira's
face closed up. "Yes, I meant to," she said curtly. "I
don't want it."

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Diana Palmer

203

Lillian wisely didn't say another word. “I’ll place it
with the
others, then. The catalogs have been printed and
they're perfect,
I checked them myself. Everything's ready, including the caterer,
for the snack buffet and the media
coverage. We're doing a Christ
mas
motif for the buffet."
                                                            

Media coverage.
Tira
ground her teeth. The last
thing in the world she wanted to see now was a reporter.

Lillian, sensitive to moods, glanced at her reassuringly.
“Don't
worry. These were handpicked, by me," she added. "They
won't
ask any embarrassing questions, and
anything they write for print
will be
about the show. Period."

Tira
relaxed. "What would I do without you?" she asked, and
meant it.

Lillian grinned. "Don't even think about trying.
We're very
glad to have your exhibit here."

Tira
had worried about Simon's reaction to
the showing, since
he was a partner in Bob
Henderson's gallery. They hadn't spoken
since before his close call in the courtroom and she half expected
him to cancel her exhibit. But he hadn't. Perhaps
Mrs. Lester had
been mistaken and he
hadn't been angry that
Tira
hadn't phoned
to check on him. Just because she hadn't called, it
didn't mean
that she hadn't worried.
She'd had a few sleepless nights thinking
about what could have happened to him. Despite her best efforts, her
feelings for him hadn't changed. She was just as much in love
with him now as she had been. She was only better
at concealing
it.

The night of the exhibit arrived. She was all nerves, and
she
was secretly glad that Charles would be by
her side. Not that she
expected Simon to
show up, with the media present. He wouldn't
want to give them any more ammunition to embarrass him with.
But Charles would be a comfort to her.

Fate stepped in, however, to rob her of his presence.
Charles
phoned at the last minute, audibly
upset, to tell her he couldn't
go with her to the
show.

"I'm more sorry than I can tell you, but Gene's had
a heart attack," he said curtly.

"Oh, Charles, I'm so sorry!"

"No need to be. You know there's no love lost
between us. But he's my half brother, just the same, and there's no one else
to look after him.
Nessa
is in
shock herself. I can't let her cope alone."

"How is he?"

"Stabilized,
for the moment. I'm on my way to the hospital.
Nessa's
with him and he's giving her hell, as usual, even flat on
his back," he said curtly.

“If there's anything I can do..."

"Thanks for your support. I'm sorry you have to go on
your
own. But it's unlikely that Simon will be
there, you know," he
added gently.
"Just stick close to Lillian. She'll look out for you."

She smiled to herself. "I know she will. Let me
know how it
goes."

"Of course I will. See you."

He hung up. She stared at the phone blankly as she
replaced
the receiver. She looked good, she
reasoned. Her black dress was
a straight sheath, ankle-length, with
spaghetti straps and a diamond necklace and earrings to set it off. It was a
perfect foil for
her pale, flawless
complexion and her red-gold hair, done in a
complicated topknot with tendrils just brushing her neck. From
her austere get up, she looked more like a widow in
mourning
than a woman looking
forward to Christmas, and she felt insecure
and nervous. It would be the
first time she'd appeared alone in
public
since the scandal and she was still uncomfortable around
most people.

Well,
she comforted herself as she went outside and climbed
into her Jaguar, at least she didn't have to add Simon to her other
complications tonight.

The gallery was packed full of interested customers,
some of whom had probably only come for curiosity's sake. It wasn't hard

Beloved

to discern people who could afford the
four-figure price tags on
the sculptures from
those who couldn't.
Tira
pretended not to no-
tice
. She took a flute of expensive champagne and downed half
of it before she went with Lillian to mingle with the
guests.

It didn't help that the first two people she saw were
Simon and
Jill.

^“
Oh, God," she
ground out through her teeth, only too aware
of the reporters and their sudden interest in him. "Why did he
have to come?!"

Lillian took her arm gently. "Don't let him know that
it bothers
you. Smile, girl! We'll get through
this."

"Do you think so?"

She plastered a cool smile to her lips as Simon pulled
Jill along
with him and came to a halt just in
front of the two women.

"Nice crowd," he told
Tira
,
his eyes slowly going over her
exquisite figure in
the close-fitting dress with unusual interest.

"A few art fans and a lot of rubberneckers, hadn't
you no
ticed?"
Tira
said, sipping more champagne. Her fingers trembled
a little and she held the flute with both hands, something Simon's
keen eyes picked up on at once.

"Nice of you to come by," Lillian
said quietly.

He glanced at her. "It would have been noticeable if
I hadn't, considering that I own half the gallery." His attention turned
back to
Tira
and his silvery eyes narrowed. "All
alone? Where's your
fair-haired shadow?"

She knew he meant Charles. She smiled lazily. "He
couldn't
make it."

"On the first night of your first
exhibition?" he chided.

She drew in a sharp breath. "His half brother had a
heart attack, if you must know," she said through her teeth. "He's at
the hos
pital."

Simon's eyes flickered strangely. "And you have to
be here,
instead of at his side. Pity."

"He doesn't need comforting.
Nessa
does."

Jill, dressed in red again with a
sprig of holly secured with a

Diana Palmer
                                                                         
205

diamond clip in her black hair, moved closer to Simon. “We just
stopped in for a peek at your work," she said, almost
purring as
she looked up at the tall man beside
her. "We're on our way to
the opera."

Tira
averted her eyes. She loved opera. Many times in the past,
Simon had escorted her during the season. It hurt to
remember how she'd looked forward to those chaste evenings with him.

"I don't suppose you go
anymore?" Simon asked coldly.

She shrugged. "Don't have
time," she said tightly.

"I noticed. You couldn't even be bothered to phone
and check
on me when that lunatic went wild in
the courtroom."

Tira
wouldn't look at him. "You can't hurt someone who's
steel right through," she said.

"And you were out of the country when it
happened."

She lifted her eyes to his hard face. "Yes. I was in
Nassau with
Charles, having a lovely time!"

His eyes seemed to blaze up at her.

Before the confrontation could escalate, Lillian
diplomatically
got between them. "Have you had
time to look around?" she
asked Simon.

"Oh, we've seen most everything," Jill answered
for him.
"Even the bust of Simon that
Tira
did. I was surprised that she
was willing to sell it," she added in an innocent tone. "I
wouldn't
part with something so personal, Simon
being such an old friend
and all. But I guess
under the circumstances, it was too painful a
reminder of...things, wasn't it, dear?" she asked
Tira
.

Tira's
hand automatically drew back, with the remainder of the
champagne, but before she could toss it, Simon caught her
wrist
with his good hand.

"No catfights," he said through his teeth.
"Jill, wait for me at

the door, will you?"

"If you say so. My, she does look violent, doesn't
she?" Jill
chided, but she walked away quickly
just the same.

"Get a grip on yourself!" Simon shot at
Tira
under his breath.
"Don't you see the reporters staring at you?"

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Diana Palmer

207

"I
don't give a damn about the reporters," she flashed at him.
"If she comes near me again, I swear I'll
empty the punch bowl
over her vicious
little head!"

He let go of her wrist and something kindled in his pale eyes
as he looked at her animated face.
"That's more like you," he
said in a
deep, soft tone.

Tira
flushed, aware that Lillian was quietly deserting her,
stranding her with Simon.

"Why did you come?" she asked
furiously.

"So the gossips wouldn't have a field day speculating
about
why I didn't," he explained. "It
wouldn't have done either of us
much good,
considering what's been in print already."

She lifted her face, staring at him with cold eyes at
the reference
to things she only wanted to forget.
"You've done your duty,"
she said. "You might as well
go. And take the Wicked Witch of
the West
with you," she added spitefully.

"Jealous?" he asked in a
sensuous tone.

Her face hardened. "I once asked you the same
question. You
can give yourself the same answer that
you gave me. Like hell
I'm jealous!"

He was watching her curiously, his eyes acutely alive in
a
strangely taciturn face. "You've lost
weight," he remarked. "And
you look
more like a widow than a celebrity tonight. Why wear
black?"

"I've decided that you were right. I should have
mourned my
husband. So now I'm in mourning,"
she said icily and with an
arctic smile. "I expect to be in
mourning for him until I die, and
I'll never
look at a man again. Doesn't that make you happy?"

He frowned slightly. “
Tira
..."

"
Tira
!"

The sound of a familiar voice turned them both around.
Harry
Beck,
Tira's
father-in-law, came forward, smiling, to embrace
Tira
. He
turned to shake Simon's hand. "Great to see you both!"
he said enthusiastically. "
Dollface
, you've outdone yourself," he

told
Tira
, nodding toward two nearby
sculptures. "I always knew
you were talented,
but this is sheer genius!"

Simon
looked puzzled by Harry's honest enthusiasm for
Tira's
work, by his lack of hostility. She'd killed his only son, didn't he
care?

"I'm glad to see you, Simon," Harry added with a
smile. "It's

been a long time."

"Simon was just leaving. Weren't you?"
Tira
added meaning
fully.

"Someone's motioning to you," Harry noted,
indicating Lillian
frantically waving from across the
room.

"It's Lillian. Will you excuse me?"
Tira
asked, smiling at
Harry. "I won't be a minute." Simon, she ignored entirely.

The two men
watched her go.

"I'm
glad to see her looking so much better," Harry said on a
sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"I've been worried since
she went
to the hospital."

"Do you really care what happens to her?"
Simon asked cu
riously.

Harry was surprised. "Why wouldn't I be? She was my
daugh
ter-in-law. I've always been fond of
her."

"She divorced John a month after they married and
let him go
off to work on a drill rig in the
ocean," Simon returned. "He
died
there."

Harry stared at him blankly. "But that wasn't her
fault."

"Wasn't it?"

"Why
are you so bitter?" Harry wanted to know. "For God's
sake, you can't think she didn't try to change
him? He should
have told her the truth
before he married her, not let her find it out that way!"

Simon was puzzled. "Find what out?"

Jill glared at Simon, but he made a motion for her to
wait
another minute and turned back to Harry.
"Find what out?" he repeated curtly.

"That John was homosexual, of course," Harry
said, puzzled.