Legacy of Love (4 page)

She felt light-headed and tired as if she'd been on a long journey. Maybe she had, she thought as she walked past her aunts in a daze. Her mother's and Sharlene's curious gazes followed her as she walked out the front door and sat on the porch steps.

She looked off, above the treetops that stood guard at the entrance to the house where her family lived.

The rational, analytic side of her, the part of her brain that dealt with facts and science, still
struggled with the Beaumont part of her—the side that wanted to embrace the possibility of something spiritual. And maybe if she did, love would finally fill her life.

“Hey, you okay?”

Zoe glanced behind her. Sharlene stood in the doorway.

She gave a short mirthless laugh. “I don't know. I guess so.”

Sharlene stepped out and sat beside Zoe. She put her arm around her friend's shoulder. “Did you at least have a good talk with Nana?”

“Nana did all the talking and she told me to go home and get ready.” She twisted the end of her hair between her fingers. “This time I listened.” She sighed. “I want to believe that there is someone out there that's just for me. But at the same time, I don't want to be the one responsible for my family's happiness. I don't want to have their future in my hands. I've seen what relationships have done to my family. Every one of them has loved and lost, tragically. Knowing that and witnessing their pain, I don't want it to be me.” She looked at Sharlene, hoping to find understanding in her eyes.

Sharlene rested her head against Zoe's. “It won't be you, girl,” she softly assured.

“Promise.”

Sharlene pursed her lips and wished that she could promise happiness for her friend.

J
ackson strode out of Dean McRae's office more annoyed than when he'd walked in. The dean was a hundred years old if he was a day. He was hard of hearing and always wanted to talk about everything that was completely unrelated to the issue at hand. Jackson had spent the past half hour listening to Dean MacRae ramble on about growing up in Mississippi instead of what he'd come to discuss—getting a new teaching assistant.

“Hey, Jackson. What's up, man?”

Jackson slowed as Levi caught up with him in the hallway. “Hey. Just left McRae's office.”

“Don't tell me. He told you the story of how he walked five miles to school each way, up a hill and barefoot,” Levi said, chuckling.

Jackson grumbled. “Might as well have for all the good the conversation did me.”

Levi clapped him on the shoulder. “Go talk to his assistant, Frank Miller. He's really the man behind the dean with the real power. McRae is a relic steeped in the college's past who they refuse to get rid of.” He paused a moment. “Victoria ever say why she had to leave?”

“No. Just that it was personal.”

“You did say she was making you a little nervous,” Levi said as they walked into the teacher's lounge. “Probably the best thing that could've happened.”

“Yeah,” he muttered and poured a cup of coffee.

“You okay, man? You seem a little out of it.” Levi reached for the milk.

“Mmm. A little tired. Didn't get much sleep last night.”

Levi muttered knowingly. “Oh, I see.”

Jackson gave him a look. “It's not what you think.”

“You trying to tell me that you didn't sleep last night and it wasn't because a beautiful, sexy woman was keeping you up?”

“Right.” Jackson started pouring sugar in his coffee. It was only partially true, he thought as he took a sip. It
was
a woman that kept him up—
the woman from the day of the fire.
Since he'd seen her and lost sight of her, he'd been driving himself crazy imagining that he saw her on every corner and in
the faces of every woman who crossed his path in Atlanta. It had been a week and she was nowhere to be found.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” Levi leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee.

“I'm taking two of my classes to the opening at the High Museum tonight. Remember?”

Levi snapped his fingers. “Yeah, right. I've been so bogged down with this dissertation that I totally forgot. Mind if I tag along?”

Jackson grinned. “Nah, Not at all. We plan to meet in front of the humanities building at six, and then head over.”

Levi nodded. “If I'm not out front, I'll meet you there. Maybe I'll get lucky and bring a date.” He took another sip of his coffee. “I heard it's supposed to be a big opening, reporters, a fancy reception—the works.” He tossed back the last of his coffee.

“It's kind of a big deal to finally get those statues here. I'm anxious to see them up close myself.” He put his empty cup in the sink.

“You believe in all that mumbo jumbo about the statues?”

Jackson's brows flickered. “You mean all that fertility stuff?”

Levi nodded. “Yeah.”

Jackson shrugged. “Who knows? I guess people can be convinced of anything if you tell the same story often enough.”
Like he was becoming convinced about his destiny,
he thought. Not so much
by the things he had been told, but by the visions, the dreams and the inexplicable reasons that brought him to Atlanta. “Anything is possible,” he murmured.

 

The museum was closed for the day in preparation for the exhibit opening and reception later that evening. The maintenance crew was in full force polishing and shining every surface in the massive building.

“Right, three cases,” Zoe replied, as she held the phone. She massaged her temples. Her head was pounding. She hadn't slept a wink and exhaustion weighed heavily on her lids. “Yes, I need them here no later than noon. They should have been here yesterday. Thank you. Noon.” She hung up the phone and rested her head in her hands.

Dealing with the wine delivery was only the third thing on her list of more than a dozen things on her checklist to take care of in the next few hours. The caterer had delivered the wrong tables and set-up and had to return them to the catering hall and deliver the right set-up and food in only a few hours. Two of her staff had called in sick with the flu, and Mike and Linda had gotten into a shouting match in the inventory room. She'd had to send Linda out on a break and have a heart-to-heart with Mike.

She'd never felt so unnerved and rattled before. Everything seemed to be making her jumpy, taking on mammoth proportions. She'd hosted plenty of
museum opening receptions before, so that wasn't it. Drawing in a deep breath she could actually feel her insides flutter.

It had been like that for the entire week since she'd returned from New Orleans. She couldn't shake off her thoughts about the things her grandmother had confided in her. If anything, her feelings about what she'd been told about her family and her own future had only intensified.

She could almost say his name now. It hung on the tip of her tongue, but was always just out of reach. His scent often teased her, surprising her with its suddenness, especially in strange places like when she opened her closet door or walked into an empty room, or leafed through the pages of a novel.

He's already here
. The prophecy echoed in her ear and Zoe could no longer deny it. One of the few things she was certain of, was that the man she saw on the day of the fire was her destiny—the key that would unlock the past and free the Beaumont family from generations of heartache. Why hadn't she asked him his name? How would she ever find him again?

The short rap on her partially opened door pulled her back to reality. Mike stood in the doorway.

Zoe pushed out a breath. “Yes?”

“Mind if I come in?”

“Actually, I do, but come in anyway.”

At least he had the decency to look sheepish, she
thought and wondered if she should have taken an Aleve for her headache before it got much worse. “What's up?”

Mike pulled up a chair and sat down. There was no denying it, Mike Williams was a gorgeous man and she could see why Linda made herself so crazy. However, he wouldn't give her the time of day.

“I wanted to apologize again about what happened this morning. I shouldn't have let it get that far.”

Zoe leaned back a bit in her chair and looked him straight in the eye. “No, you shouldn't have. We've been down this road before, Mike. I rely on you when I'm not here. And when I'm not, I can't be concerned that World War Three is going to break out.” She shook her head in frustration. “You're going to have to find a way to work it out, Mike. Both of you are important members of this team.”

“Believe me I've tried. Some days things are fine and then others…turn out like this morning.” He lowered his head momentarily. “I don't get it.” He looked up at Zoe.

I do,
she thought but refrained from saying. Linda was in love with him. You could see it in her eyes and the way her whole body lit up when he walked into a room. Sometimes she wondered what that was like, to feel that strongly about someone. But then again, look at what it got Linda—nothing but heartache and frustration. That's not what she
wanted in her life. Every example she'd had in life had proven over and over again that love hurt.

Mike stood up from his seat, snapping Zoe back to attention. “I'll make it work. Maybe I should take her to lunch and have a talk.”

“Hmm, I don't know if that would be a good move. You don't want her to get the wrong idea. Maybe coffee in the employee lounge or something?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Ready for tonight?”

“Pretty much. If I can just get these vendors to make their deliveries, I'd be fine.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Oh, if you can call the security company and make sure that everything is taken care of, confirm how many people they are giving us, and if they can cover the front of the building as well. We're expecting a big crowd this evening and I don't want any mishaps.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks.”

Linda appeared at the door just as Mike turned to leave.

They muttered their apologies and made a mess of stepping around each other. Zoe tried not to laugh. Those two just needed to get together and call it a day.

“Yes, Linda.”

Linda Gilmore was what her aunties would call
“bright-skinned.” Back in the day she could have probably passed. Her light brown eyes were sometimes green depending on the weather and her mood. Her sleek hair hung in light waves around her shoulders framing a nearly perfectly oval face. She was a Pilates devotee and it showed in her long, lean body. And she was smart. Linda was definitely the whole package. Too bad Mike didn't see it.

“There's a reporter here from one of the local papers. He wants to speak with you.”

“This early? The museum isn't even open.”

“Guess he wanted to get a scoop. What do you want me to tell him?”

“I'll come out and talk to him. Thanks.”

They exited Zoe's office and walked down the corridor together.

“You feeling a little better?” Zoe asked.

Linda's cheeks flushed. “I'm good.” She gave a tight-lipped smiled.

Zoe stopped and gently clasped Linda's arm. “Listen, whatever it is that is going on or not going on between you and Mike has got to stop. It's interfering with work, with scheduling, other staff members and I can't have that. We're all adults here and this can't be the place for drama. I don't want some other staffers to complain to human resources. Then we will really have a problem and it'll be out of my hands.”

Linda started to protest. Zoe held up her hand.

“I'm not saying it's all you. I've told Mike pretty
much the same thing, too. Both of you are important members of this team. But I'm going to have to think of some other alternative if we can't find a compromise.”

Linda's lips pinched and her eyes filled with water. “You know what it's like to love someone and they don't even see you?” she blurted out then turned her head away. “I'm sorry.” Linda pulled away and walked off.

Zoe stood there for several moments. This whole love thing was totally overrated, she thought. Is this what was in store for her? If so, she didn't want any parts of it—legacy or not. She turned down the corridor toward the entrance to meet the reporter.

Her heels clicked with precision against the marble floors. The young reporter was seated on a bench under a piece of art from Ghana, Zoe's ancestor's homeland. It was one of her favorites, with its vibrant colorful beading depicting a small village at night set against the backdrop of towering mountains and greenery. She extended her hand as she approached.

“I'm Zoe Beaumont. How can I help you?”

The young man stood. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, Zoe surmised. He shook her hand.

“Gabe Weston from
The Eagle
. Thank you for seeing me.”

“You do know that the exhibit doesn't open until tonight.”

“Yes, but I was hoping to get a jump on the competition,” he said, flashing a killer smile.

Zoe's right brow arched. She held back a grin. “Really? Well, other than the catalogues that everyone else is getting, I'm not sure what I can offer you.”

“I was hoping you would allow me to ask a few questions.”

“You want to interview me?”

“Yes. It will only take five minutes. I promise.”

Zoe looked around then focused back on him. “Sure. Five minutes.” She sat down on the bench and he pulled out a tape recorder and sat beside her.

“I have what I need about the statues. What I want to know from you is why was it important to bring them here?”

“As a curator you are always searching for pieces that will bring in visitors and provide them with the opportunity to experience treasures from around the world. I spend a great deal of my time looking for pieces of art and sculptures. Of course it brings a great deal of prestige and exposure to the museum to house one-of-a-kind pieces and artifacts.”

“And how do you make your decisions?”

She smiled. “My passion, and the budget.”

He laughed.

“Speaking of budgets, the arts are always hit hardest during any economic downturns. How has the economy affected the museum?”

Zoe blew out a breath. “It's certainly been
difficult. Part of what I do is write grants, try to get corporate sponsors and museum patrons to help, and tonight's event is also a fundraiser. Those things help to offset some of the costs, but not all of them.”

“What do you want readers to know?”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “Museums are home to countless treasures. They are not only a source of entertainment and knowledge, but also enlightenment about culture and art. They tell so many stories that would be otherwise lost. They are places where the average person can travel to any corner of the world and learn its history.”

“How long did it take you to get the statues here?”

“It was a long process. Almost two years.”

“Do you believe the stories about the statues?”

“It's not for me to believe or disbelieve, just to present and let the visitors decide for themselves. Everyone who comes here or to any museum takes away something.”

“Well, if there is a mini baby-boom in the next year, I guess Atlanta might have you to thank. If you believe in that kind of stuff.”

Zoe stood. “I really have to get back to work. I have a full day.”

He turned off the tape recorder and stood. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Beaumont.”