His By Design (23 page)

Jen nodded. “Okay.”

Jeff scooped up the keys to his bike. “I’ll be late. Don’t wait up.”

Zoe returned to her living room, eyes still red and face blotchy, but at least the tear tracks were gone. The hot coffee w
armed her insides that had been icy since Fredrick dropped his bomb this morning.

Russ nodded at her appearance. “Better, Zoe.” He paused as if considering where to begin. “Part of this story isn’t mine to tell and I’ve made promises I won’t break. But, in light of Fredrick’s intentional omissions I’d like to clarify one thing. The woman who lives with Jeff is not his lover. In fact there is no romantic involvement between the two of them.”

“Then why didn’t he tell me about her?”

“That is the part I can’t speak to. You need to let Jeff explain his motives.”

“Easy for you to say. With the relationship we had, at least I thought we had, he could have told me anything without worrying that I’d . . . I’d . . .”
Think less of him? Stop trusting him? Stop loving him?

“Before you finish that sentence, Zoe, I suggest you consider why you never told him about your own problem with the perfidious Mr. Barker.”

Touché.

“While you contemplate
your
motives, may I ask you for a copy of this contract you signed?”

“Of course. It’s downstairs in the office. I’ll get it.”

While Zoe was gone, Russ checked his cell phone which had vibrated a few moments earlier. The screen showed a text message from Jeff. “Need to talk. Call me ASAP.” Russ replied quickly. “With Zoe. Will call soon. Hang in there.”

Zoe returned with the document and handed it to Russ. While he read it, she paced. The news that Jeff’s mystery woman was not his lover eased her feelings of betrayal. But despite Russ’ comments she still couldn’t understand why he’d kept her identity a secret.

Russ put the papers down. “It appears to be a fairly straightforward contract to me, although I’m no lawyer.”

“I agree. That’s why I had no problem signing it. It’s the matter of his unspoken addendum that has me in such a bind.”

“I think you need to do two things. Somehow exchange your copy for the original and then convince Judge Abernathy that you did not make the swap in the first place. Once we’ve accomplished that, Barker will have no leverage to enforce those unwritten clauses in your contract.”

“
Right. Simple. Except I don’t know Judge Abernathy well enough to convince him of my innocence and I have no idea how to get the original out of Fredrick’s townhouse. Other than those obnoxious details it sounds like the perfect plan.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t help, Zoe.”

“You’re right. Sorry.” She sighed.

“When you went to Fredrick’s house, did you notice if he had an alarm system?”

Zoe nodded. “He does.”

“I don’t supposed you noticed the disarming code?” Russ arched his brows.

Zoe chuckled. “I knew it . . . from before. It’s his birthday.”

“Good. Now all we need is a key.”

“That, I can’t help you with. And besides, how will we get my copy from Judge Abernathy?”

Russ gave her a Cheshire Cat smile. “That much I can handle. The judge and I are old acquaintances. While he knows his law, as an art collector he was an easy mark for Fredrick Barker. I’m pretty sure I can convince him of your innocence, once he has his original back. I’ll also mention that doing business with Barker is a dangerous proposition in the future.”

Zoe snapped her mouth closed. “Really? You’re friends with this judge? Unbelievable.”

“I wouldn’t say we are friends, Zoe. He owns several of my canvases. We’ve chatted at quite a few art shows. Enough that he trusts my opinions about art, anyway.” Russ finished his coffee and stood. “I have to go, Zoe. I’ll be back tomorrow when the gallery opens. Meanwhile we need to find a way to get inside Barker’s townhouse.”

Zoe walked him to the door. “I hope Jeff knows what a good friend you are, Russ. And while we haven’t solved my problem, I feel better now that you know my situation, and are still willing to help.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

“Try to get some rest, Zoe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Zoe had no sooner closed the door than her phone rang. The sound filled her with dread. She looked at the screen on her cell phone. ‘Unknown Caller.’

Chapter 22

Zoe didn’t have the energy to deal with another problem. She stared at the screen until the ringtone stopped. A second later the voicemail indicator lit up. She took a deep breath and punched the button.

“This message is for Zoe Silvercreek. You don’t know me, but it’s important that I talk with you. Please, please call me back. It’s urgent. My name is Jennifer Petrosky.”

Zoe stared at her phone as though it had suddenly switched to a foreign language. Jennifer Petrosky? This had to be Jeff’s mystery woman. She rubbed her tired eyes and tried to think. The emotional drain from today’s revelations had encased her brain in molasses. She needed sleep.

But she needed answers more.

She dialed the number.

“Oh thank God. For a minute there I thought you wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“I debated it,” Zoe replied. “What do you want? No, first, who are you?”

“I’m Jeff’s sister. Those are my paintings you’ve been selling.”

His sister? All these months and he never mentioned he had a sister. And his dad didn’t either, even on the drive to Cambridge to pick up the cases. He must have been in on it, too.

She felt doubly betrayed now. And twice the fool.

“Well, thank you for setting me up as a fraudulent art dealer. It should really kick-start my business.” Zoe hovered her finger over the disconnect button. She listened to the sigh on the other end.

“Look, I know it’s late and you must be tired, but I think we should meet. I can’t explain all this over the phone.”

It was Zoe’s turn to sigh. “Sure, why not? Come on over. I assume you know where I live.”

“Yeah, I do. But, um, I don’t have any way to get there. I don’t suppose you could come here?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any transportation either. Jeff usually takes me . . .” Her voice trailed off. That first bike ride to the cove flashed through her head. Then the painting of it, the first one she’d sold.
Guess he must have taken his sister there, too.

“Oh. Damn. I don’t know when he’ll be back and he won’t be happy when he finds out I’m talking to you.”

Oh, well, let’s not make Jeff unhappy.

“Look, Jen, it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. There’s really nothing you can tell me tonight that will change anything. I’ll have another busy day tomorrow and, assuming I’m not in jail, I’ll have a ton of paperwork to take care of after I close. If you still want to talk Sunday night I’ll ask my friend to drive me over. That okay with you?”

“Sure. Fine. Thanks. Just call when you’re on your way, okay?”

“Will do.”

“And, Zoe?” Her voice softer, even more hesitant.

“Yes?”

“Please don’t—”

“Have Jeff arrested?” Zoe was too sad, and too mad, to be polite, or worry about the pain she might be inflicting on Jennifer Petrosky.

“Yeah. He’s a good guy, Zoe. You must know that much about him by now.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of things I thought I knew are turning out to be lies, so . . .” She blew out a breath and closed her eyes. She needed a handful of aspirin to tone down the headache pounding behind her eyes.

The silence on the other end of the line stretched on. Finally Zoe gave in. “Don’t worry, Jen. I’m not going to do anything, but you’d better hope and pray Fredrick Barker doesn’t either.”

“I’ve been doing that since Jeff told me what happened at the gallery today.”

Zoe heard the sigh. Felt the unspoken anguish. She wasn’t the only one in pain tonight. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what time, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Zoe.”

“Bye.”

Zoe went to the medicine cabinet, shook out three aspirin and looked at herself in the mirror. Dark rings circled her eyes and contrasted starkly with her unusual pallor. Shell-shocked. That was how she looked. She downed the aspirin with bottled water, stripped off her clothes and fell into bed. Let exhaustion drag her under. Tomorrow would be another hellish day.

Jeff met Dev and Russ at Ed’s Diner. Altho
ugh Ed kept it open late in the summer, by eleven o’clock there were only a few patrons at the counter. Jeff took the booth farthest away from the other customers. Dev and Russ slid in opposite him and they all ordered coffee.

“How’s Zoe? Today must have been pretty hard on her.” Jeff scrubbed his face with both hands. The image of Zoe’s face when Barker told her about ‘the other woman’ was burned into his brain. How did he keep hurting the people he cared for the most?

“She’s actually handling it much better than I expected. Not that she isn’t pissed at you, pal. We had a long talk and although I didn’t tell her everything I did assure her that the woman in question was not your lover. I left the rest of that explanation up to you.” Russ sipped his coffee. “What are you going to do?”

“Other than find Barker and beat him to a bloody pulp? I have no idea.”

“Let’s not add assault to the list. That will only give him more ammunition,” Dev countered.

“And me a lot of satisfaction.” Jeff’s fists clenched on the table. “But you’re right. Much as I’d like to rearrange his face, it wouldn’t help the situation.” He sat back and sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to absolve myself. I know I fucked up. I should have told Zoe the truth right from the beginning. But I still don’t understand why she ever made a deal with that sleazebag to begin with.”

“Yes. You and Zoe need to chat about that, and soon, if we’re going to salvage her gallery and your future from this debacle. One thing in your favor is that Barker tricked Zoe and holds an accusation of art forgery over her head as well, so she has a certain amount of guilt about keeping that from you.” Russ filled Jeff in on the details. “Now we have to figure out a way to get into Barker’s townhouse and get that original to return to Judge Abernathy.”

“Give me a day to check out his place. I’ll figure a way in. We just need to keep him away for about ten minutes.” No one else would do anything illegal to clean up his mess. If he got caught breaking and entering, it would be no more than he deserved. He wouldn’t risk anyone else he cared about to fix his mistakes.

Zoe would have another busy day at the gallery tomorrow. He’d use the time to scout out Barker’s house. When the gallery closed, he’d talk to Zoe, if she agreed to see him. Russ seemed to think she’d be willing to hear his side of the story. He hoped to hell that was true.

Chapter 23

Jeff parked his bike behind the gallery and checked his watch. Six-fifteen. The gallery closed at six on Sundays. He assumed the holiday weekend didn’t change that. Zoe should be locking up. He’d texted her earlier and asked to meet. Her reply gave him no indication that she might be in a forgiving mood.

‘K. Six-thirty. My place.’

The only thing that gave him any hope was Russ’ message that she’d kept his sculpture front and center in the gallery.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk to Jen this morning. He screwed up and ruined her hopes for that second operation—at least for many months. He had nothing good to tell her, so he’d kept his distance.

The dim yellow circle cast by the light over the back door wasn’t welcoming tonight. Jeff knocked and waited, the tension between his shoulder blades ratcheting up with each passing second. He heard the deadbolt slide and braced himself. The door opened to reveal Zoe looking tired but still lovely in a long navy skirt and turquoise tank top.

She didn’t smile. Thin gold bangle bracelets on her wrist chimed as she gestured. “Come in.”

He entered and stood just inside the door flipping his keys in and out of his palm. Her eyes were somber. All of her usual energy, her joyful spirit and the impish humor normally sparkling there had been replaced by sadness and despair. Silence stretched between them like a barbed-wire fence, jagged and forbidding. It took all of his will power not to reach for her.

At last Zoe tilted her head toward the stairs. “Let’s go up.”

He followed, guilt an iron band around his heart. Just inside her apartment door, he stopped again, not sure where to go or what to say.

Zoe dropped her keys into the basket on the bar, then went to the fridge and took out a bottle of wine. She reached up to get a glass and looked over her shoulder in silent question.

He shook his head. Later would be plenty of time to drown his sorrows in alcohol, right now he needed a clear head. He expected anger, disappointment, or scathing comments about his duplicity. Her gloomy gaze and downturned mouth were much more potent punishment.

She poured herself a glass of pale gold wine and took a seat on the sofa. She gestured for him to sit at the other end. “Tell me.”

He swallowed with difficulty and cleared his throat. Apologies first. Explanations second. Begging for forgiveness last. He was willing to do a lot of that.

“Zoe, I’m sorry I lied about who painted those pictures. I never should have done that. I didn’t know you well when I concocted that ruse, but once I got to know you better I should have told you the truth. I have no excuse, because there is none good enough to condone either my stupidity or my dishonesty. I wouldn’t blame you if you called the cops on me yourself.”

“I considered it.” Her gaze bored into him and there was no forgiveness in it.

“Russ told me he explained that the woman Fredrick Barker referred to is not my lover.” Jeff closed his eyes briefly. “She’s my sister, Jennifer. She’s the creator of all of those paintings. I can only claim the sculptures as my own. Since I’m sure Fredrick knew her relation to me, he obviously withheld that information to put me in the worst possible light, and to hurt you badly as well.”

Zoe nodded, not ready to tell him that she’d already spoken to his sister. “Fredrick is an expert at twisting the knife, once he has one to use. You gave him an excellent weapon. My trust.”

Jeff winced. “I know things between us can never be the same, but if you’ll listen I’d like to tell you everything now, so there will be no more surprises and no more ammunition for that bastard to use against me.”

Zoe nodded. “That would be good. I’m not sure I can handle any more surprises.”

Jeff scrubbed his hands over his face and cleared his throat again. Where to start? He opened then closed his mouth.

Zoe’s expression didn’t soften. She put her glass down. “Can I get you some water, or coffee?”

“Water would be great.” He’d get it himself but no longer felt he had the right to even that much intimacy.

She got up and returned with a chilled bottle.

Her fingertips brushed his as he accepted it and the familiar tingle shot through him. She rubbed her fingers together as though she felt something too. He opened the bottle and drank half of it on long gulps.

Stop wasting her time and get on with it, dickhead
.

“First, about Jennifer, my sister. She is an amazing artist. And she used to be a good dancer as well. But a few years ago when I was driving her home from her dance class, we were in an accident.” As usual, the memory caused his heart to thud heavily in his chest. “She was hurt. Badly. Her face was . . .” Jeff had to stop until he had control of his voice again. “She needed—needs—plastic surgery.” He took another swallow of water. “Jen hasn’t gone outside, at least where anyone could see her, for two years now. She lives like a hermit.”

“The day I first met you I thought you were a gift from heaven, sent to help me make amends for my carelessness.” At the memory of that day a slight smile curved his lips. Then the current reality slapped it off. I’ve been saving every dime I can scrounge together but plastic surgery is expensive.

“I knew her paintings were good. I was positive they would sell and make enough money for her surgeries.” He shook his head slowly. “She adamantly refused to meet any gallery owners and I thought you’d never accept any paintings if you couldn’t meet the artist. So I . . .”

“Lied.”

“Yes.” He didn’t look away. If she would hate him for this, so be it. His mistake, his punishment. “Once Jen had her operations we planned to tell you everything. But . . .”

“Yeah.” Zoe tipped her head. “The best laid plans and all that.”

Zoe finished her wine and carefu
lly set the glass on the coffee table. She loved this man beyond all reason. But she hated that he’d lied to her. Which was why she wanted to hear Jeff make his case. She needed to judge how sorry losing her trust would make him. Did he love her? Or was he merely afraid she’d put him in jail?

She had her own guilt, true, but it wasn’t the same. She’d not told him lies, merely sinned by omission. After all, her problem with Fredrick the Sleaze shouldn’t really have impacted Jeff at all. She’d always felt sure that somehow she’d get out of the unspoken agreement with Fredrick. That he’d never really expose her as an art forger—which she never knowingly was anyway. That he’d never actually threaten her with jail.

She was wrong about Fredrick, though. He had no scruples, and wouldn’t hesitate to use her copy of that painting to get what he wanted. A new gallery, renovated, up and running, all the hard, back-breaking groundwork done, and her as his employee, not even as his partner. She shuddered to think of how far he would go. With the sword of Damocles hanging over her head, how could she refuse him . . . anything? She’d thought she was so smart. She’d show him what she could accomplish. Rub his nose in his smarmy arrogance. And all the time he was manipulating her into creating the newest gallery in his chain.

Would Jeff believe she was innocent? Would her reluctance to tell him about the damned copy proclaim her guilt? Up until that fateful night when he proposed, she’d never been absolutely certain that she wasn’t merely a short-term fling. That there weren’t other women tucked away somewhere. Each one hoping that she was ‘The One.’ She hadn’t trusted Jeff enough to take the chance that her ethics problem might make him walk away.

So maybe their trust issues were the same after all.

Why did life always have to be so damn hard? She imagined her mother shaking her head and saying “Life is hard only if you do not have the courage to do what is right. I know you are stronger than that.”

“I’m so sorry, Zoe. Please don’t punish Jen for my mistakes. I will take all the blame, but from now on, could you still sell Jen’s paintings? As hers, of course. I’ll—”

“Stop, Jeff.” Zoe scooted closer to him and put a finger to his lips. “I’ve sold Jen’s paintings for the past two days, not as yours but as J. Petrosky’s. And of course I’ll keep selling them, they are beautiful. And how could I refuse to help a sister and brother who love each other so much? I plan to meet her after we’re done here.”

The nearly empty water bottle slipped from Jeff’s fingers. He snatched it up. “You’re going to meet Jen?”

Zoe nodded. “She called and asked me to come see her, so Mandy’s driving us over to your place later.” Her mouth curved up at the corners. “Naturally she claimed this whole plan was her idea and that she’d talked you into going along with it . . .”

“No. No, that’s not true, Zoe. It was my idea.”

“Hush. You two can battle it out over whose idea it was some other time. It doesn’t really matter to me.” She put a finger against his lips again. Because she simply had to touch him. The look of relief on his face tugged at her heartstrings. For the first time in forty-eight hours she could take a deep breath without doubt clutching her. Jeff reached to pull her into his arms but she flattened her palm against his chest.

“My turn for confession.” She told him everything she’d told Russ. Then she held her breath and waited for his verdict.

“I don’t know how yet, sweet cheeks, but we will fix this. Anyone who knows you half as well as I do, knows that there isn’t a dishonest bone in your body. I’ll make him admit his guilt if I have to tie him down and torture a confession out of him. He’ll never hurt the women I love.”

Not a single word of accusation or recrimination. Jeff simply drew her into his arms and held her. She sighed and settled her head against his chest. She’d figure out a way to fix this without Jeff putting himself in any more danger. He’d already sacrificed too much.

Fredrick and Jeff were an explosive combination and letting them get together would only lead to even bigger problems.

“I can take you over to meet Jen,” Jeff offered.

“No, I think this would be better woman to woman. Mandy is coming by as soon as I give her a call to tell her I haven’t murdered you. She’ll drive me over.”

“Well, as long as you’re going to play it that way, I’m going to have a talk with Dev. We need to make some plans.” Jeff held his hands up, palms out. “Don’t ask. This is guy stuff. You and Mandy do your thing, Dev and I’ll do ours. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

Oh God, where had she heard that before?

Twenty minutes later Zoe and Amanda parked in front of Jeff’s door. As Zoe went to knock, the door two units down opened a crack.

“Over here, Zoe.”

Jen let them in and closed the door quickly behind them. Hiding was a hard habit to break. The lamp on her desk cast a circle of light on the blotter and left the rest of her studio apartment shrouded in gloom. She offered the two women seats at her small dining table.

“Can I get you something to drink? Iced tea or coffee?”

They both declined. Silence fell. Jen sat in her usual place at the table. She cleared her throat. This would be harder than she expected. “I’m not sure where to begin . . .”

“Then I’ll help you out,” Zoe said. “I have a few questions.”

Jen nodded.

“Why did Jeff never mention you to me?”

“He knew you’d expect to meet me at some point and for the past few years I . . . I haven’t wanted to meet anyone new.”
Wow, that sounds really lame. They’ll both think I’m retarded—or psychotic.
She hurried to elaborate. “You see, I was in a car crash and it . . . messed up my face. Pretty badly.”

This got Jen the scrutiny she’d expected. But after the first operation she already looked so much better she knew they wouldn’t understand. She got up and slid a few photographs in front of them. Then she turned on the brighter lights she only used when she cleaned.

Zoe gave her a quick glance then dropped her gaze to the photos. She gasped and turned her head away, then looked again out of the corner of her eye.

Amanda’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes developed a sheen of moisture.

“Now you understand why I didn’t want to meet back then. There’s no way to describe how I looked, but your reactions were pretty standard. I stopped going outside. I didn’t want to scare people.”

Zoe reached over and touched Jen’s arm. “I am so sorry to have been so snippy with you. I had no idea . . .”

“Jeff has been saving every dime he can lay his hands on to pay for the operations I need to look . . . better. The photo on the bottom is my senior prom picture. The ‘before’ image, if you will. Not that Keira Knightly had to worry about competition, but I was pretty . . . then.”

Zoe lifted the photo and stared. “You were beautiful!

Jen gave a fleeting smile. “I wanted to be a dancer back then. As a matter of fact, Jeff was taking me home from dance class when we got into the accident. It wasn’t his fault, but you can’t convince him of that. Now I need this brace to walk any distance, but at least I can walk.”

“But why didn’t Jeff simply tell me those paintings were yours? They are fabulous, by the way. I would never have passed up such beautiful work.”

“Well, when he cooked up this whole idea he’d only just met you, so he had no idea how things would go.” Jen arched a brow and gave Zoe a knowing smile. “And he knew I’d never agree to see you back then, soooo . . .”

“He claimed the paintings as his own so you wouldn’t have to.”

Jen nodded. “Right.” She grasped Zoe’s hand. “Please don’t be angry with him. I know he cares for you and this whole disaster is killing him.”

“I don’t like being lied to.” Zoe compressed her lips into a firm line. “But I talked with your brother a few hours ago and we’ve made peace with our past indiscretions.” She smiled and Jen leaned over and hugged her.