Now and Forever (47 page)

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Authors: Danielle Steel

BOOK: Now and Forever
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And dinner with Aunt Beth the next day was a jovial affair. She had spent the first night alone in the new house. She had wanted it that way, and had wandered from room to room like a child, not feeling lonely, only excited. It was like the beginning of an adventure. She felt reborn.

"Well, how do you like it? Are you ready to go home yet?" Aunt Beth chuckled with her over tea.

"Not on your life. I'm ready to stay here forever. And thanks to you, the house is as cozy as can be."

"It'll take more than that to make it cozy, my dear."

But what Jessica had sent in the two crates helped a bit. Photographs, planters, a little marble owl, a collection of treasured books, two bright paintings, and the portrait of Ian. There were also blankets and brass candlesticks, and odds and ends that she loved. And she filled the house with plants and bright flowers. At the end of the week, she added to her old treasures with a few new ones she acquired at auction. Two low rough-hewn tables, and an oval hooked rug. She put them in the living room and stood back, looking pleased. It looked more like home every day. She had sent books in the trunks, and her painting things were set up in a corner, but she hadn't had time to paint anything yet. She was too busy with the house.

The foreman's son from Aunt Beth's spent the weekend pulling weeds and mowing the lawn, and they had even discovered a crumbling gazebo far out in the back. And now she wanted a swing. Two of them. One to hang from a tall tree near the gazebo, where she could swing high and watch the sunset on the hills, and another to sit in front of the house, the kind on which young couples sat and whispered "I love you's" on warm summer nights, creaking slowly back and forth, sure that they were unique in the world.

The letter from Ian came on Saturday morning. She had been in her new house for six days.

And there you are, funny girl, with dust in your hair and a smudge on your nose, grinning with pride at the order you're making from chaos. I can see you now, barefoot and happy, with a cornstalk in your teeth. Or wearing your Guccis and hating it? What's it like? I can see the house perfectly now, though I can't imagine you happy in a sleeping bag on the floor. Don't tell me you've gotten that rugged! But it sounds lovely, Jessie, and it will do you good. Though I was shocked to hear about the shop. Won't you miss it? Sounds like a hell of a good price, though. What'll you do with that pile of bucks? At this end, I'm hearing news about the making of a movie from the book. Don't hold your breath; I'm not. Those things never happen. They just get talked about. Though on the other hand, I never thought you'd sell the shop. How does that feel? Painful, I'll bet, but maybe a relief? Time to do other things. Travel, paint, clean up that palace you've saddled yourself with for the summer--or longer? I heard something in the tone of your last letter. It sounds like love for the house, and the country around it, and Aunt Beth. She must be a remarkable woman. And how are the ants and the lizards so far? Staying away? Or all wearing your best hair spray and loving it?

She chuckled as she read; once she had tried to kill a lizard in their hotel room in Florida with her hair spray. They had asphyxiated themselves out of the room, but the lizard had loved it.

She finished reading the letter and went to sit at the large table Aunt Beth had provided. She wanted to tell him about the things Aunt Beth had put in the house, and the goodies she'd found at auction. It didn't seem fair to let him think she was sleeping on the floor.

The correspondence got under way as simply as that, and without the determination of their halt in communication. She didn't think about it, she just wrote to him to give him the news. It was harmless, and she was pleased for him about the movie. Maybe this time it would happen. She hoped so, for him.

She was surprised at the length of her response. It covered six tightly written pages, and it was almost dark when she sealed the envelope and put on the stamp. She cooked dinner on the old stove, went to bed early, and got up very early the next morning. She drove into town, mailed the letter, and stopped at Aunt Beth's for a cup of coffee. But Aunt Beth was out riding.

The afternoon was quiet and pretty. Jessie did some sketches while sitting dangling her feet on her front porch. She felt like Huck Finn's older sister, in overalls and a red T-shirt and bare feet. The sun was bright on her face and it was a beautiful day, and her hair looked like spun gold looped up in loose curls at the top of her head.

"Good afternoon, mademoiselle." Jessica jumped, the sketch pad flying from her hands. She had thought there was no one anywhere near the house. But when she looked up, she laughed. It was Geoffrey.

"My God, you scared me to death!" But she hopped lightly from the porch as he picked up her pad and looked at it with surprise.

"Great Scott, you can draw! But much more interesting than that, you're exquisite and I adore you!" He folded her into a great warm hug, and she smiled up at him from her bare feet in the tall grass around the house. They hadn't quite gotten up all the weeds yet. "Jessica, you look perfectly beautiful!"

"Like this?" She laughed at him, but she was slow to leave his embrace. She was just beginning to realize how much she'd missed him.

"Yes, I adore you like that. The first time I saw you, you were barefoot and had your hair looped up like that. I told you, you looked just like a Greek goddess."

"Heavens!"

"Well, aren't you going to give me the grand tour, after you've kept me at arm's length all this time?"

"Of course, of course!" She laughed delightedly, and pointed majestically toward the house. "Won't you come in?"

"In a moment." But first he drew her into his arms for a long tender kiss. "Now I'm ready to see the house." She laughed at him, and then stopped and took a long look at him.

"No, you're not."

"I'm not?" He looked confused. "Why not?"

"First take off your tie."

"Now?"

"Absolutely."

"Before we go inside?" She nodded insistently, and, smiling at her, he took off the navy blue tie dotted with white, which she correctly guessed was from Dior.

"It's a lovely tie, but you don't need it here. And I promise, I won't tell a soul you took it off."

"Promise?"

"Solemnly." She held up a hand and he kissed it. The feeling in the center of her palm was delicious.

"Oh, that was nice."

"You're a tease. All right then, will this do?" She looked him over again but shook her head. "What?"

"Take your jacket off."

"You're impossible." But he slipped out of it, dropped it over his arm, and swept her a bow. "Satisfied, milady?"

"Quite." She imitated his accent and he laughed as, at last, he followed her inside.

She took him around room by room, holding her breath a little, afraid he might hate it. And she wanted him to love it. It was important to her. The house meant so much to her. It was symbolic of so much in her that had changed. And it was still a little bare, but she liked it that way. She had room to grow in, and to collect new things. She felt freer here than she had in San Francisco. Here, it was all new and fresh.

"Well, what do you think?"

"Not exactly overdecorated, is it?" She smiled as he chuckled, but she wanted him to like it, not make fun of it "All right, Jessica, don't look so sensitive. It's lovely, and it ought to be great fun for a summer." But what about for a life? She hadn't said anything to him yet about staying there, but she wasn't quite sure yet either, so there was no point. And it didn't really matter. If he fell in love with her, he could fly down to see her in his plane. It would give her the weeks alone to paint and walk and think and spend time with Aunt Beth, and the weekends with him.

"What on earth are you thinking about?" She jumped as he broke into her thoughts. "You had the most outrageous little smile on your face."

"Did I?" But she couldn't tell him what she had in mind. It had to grow slowly, she couldn't sketch it all out for him ahead of time.

"You did, and I love your little house. It's sweet." But he made it sound silly, and she was disappointed. He meant well, but he just didn't understand.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" It was a hot day, but he seemed to like hot tea whatever the weather. That or Scotch. Or martinis. She already knew.

"Love some. And then, Jessica my love, I have a surprise for you."

"Do you? I love surprises! Give it to me now." She looked like a little kid again as she plonked down on the couch and waited.

"Not now. But I thought we'd do something special tonight."

"Like what?" She wanted to do something special too, and it showed in her smile, but he let it pass.

"I want to take you down to Los Angeles; there's a party at the consulate. I thought you might rather enjoy it."

"In Los Angeles?" But why Los Angeles? She wanted to stay in the country.

"It's going to be quite a nice party. Of course, if you'd rather not ..." But the way he said it didn't leave her much choice.

"No, no ... I'd love to ... but I just thought..."

"Well, what would we do here? I thought it would be much nicer to run down to the city for a bit. And I want to introduce you to some of my friends." He said it so nicely that she felt badly about her reluctance. It was just that she had wanted to share a quiet evening with him in the new house. But there would be other times. Lots of them.

"All right. It sounds terrific." She was going to get into the spirit of it. "What sort of party is it?"

"White tie. Late dinner. And there ought to be quite a lot of important people there."

"White tie? But that means tails!"

"As a rule, yes!"

"But Geoffrey, what in hell can I wear? I don't have anything here. Just a lot of country stuff."

"I thought that might be the case."

"So what'll I do?" She looked horrified. White tie? Christ. She hadn't even seen white tie since all those ridiculous deb balls her mother had made her go to fifteen years ago. And she had nothing even remotely possible to wear. Everything dressy was still in San Francisco.

"Jessica, if you won't be too cross at me, I took the liberty of ..." He looked more nervous than she had ever seen him. He knew she had exquisite taste and he was terrified of what he had done. "I hope you won't be angry, but I just thought that under the circumstances ... admittedly, I ..."

"What on earth is going on?" She was half amused, half frightened.

"I bought you a dress."

"You did what?" She was dumbfounded.

"I know, it was a ridiculous thing to do, but I just assumed that you probably didn't have anything here and ..." But she was laughing at him. She wasn't angry. "You're not cross?"

"How could I be cross? No one's ever done that for me before." Certainly not a man she barely knew. What an amazing man he was turning out to be! "That was a lovely thing to do." She hugged him and laughed again. "Can I see it?"

"Of course." He bolted toward the door and returned five minutes later, as he had parked a little distance away. He had wanted to surprise her when he arrived, and the Porsche didn't lend itself well to surprises. But he was back with an enormous box in his arms, and a large bag that seemed to hold several smaller boxes.

"What on earth did you do?"

"I went shopping." He looked pleased with himself now. He dumped all of it on the couch and stood back with a breathless look of pleasure.

Jessica slowly pulled open the large box and gasped. The fabric was the most delicate she'd ever seen. It was a silk crepe, the lightest imaginable. It seemed to float through her fingers, and it was a warm ivory, which would set off her dark tan to perfection. When she took the dress out of the box, it seemed to clasp at one shoulder and leave the other bare. And when she saw the label it explained the design and the fabric. Geoffrey had bought her a couture dress, which must have cost him at least two thousand dollars.

"My God, Geoffrey!" She was speechless.

"You hate it."

"Are you kidding? It's magnificent. But how could you buy me that?"

"Do you like it, dammit?" He couldn't make head or tau out of what she was saying, and it made him nervous, waiting to find out.

"Of course I like it. I love it. But I can't accept it. That's a terribly expensive dress."

"So? You need it for tonight" She laughed at the logic.

"Not exactly. That's like wearing a new car." And a Rolls, yet.

"If you like it, I want you to wear it. Will it fit?" She considered not even trying it, but she was dying to know how it looked, how it felt. Just for a moment.

"I'll try it But I won't keep it. Absolutely not."

"Nonsense."

But she went to try it on, and when she came back she was smiling. And the vision he saw made him smile too.

"Good heavens, you're beautiful, Jessica. I've never seen anyone look like that in a dress." It looked as though it had been made for her. "Wait, you have to try it with these." He dove into the bag of goodies and came out with a shoebox. Little ivory satin strands of sandals on delicate heels. Again, a perfect fit. Geoffrey certainly knew how to shop. A little silver and white beaded bag. All put together, it was dazzling. And they were equally overwhelmed. He with looking at her, and she to be wearing it all. She was used to good clothes, but these were extravagantly beautiful. And outrageously expensive.

"Well, it's settled, then." He looked decisive, and pleased. "Where's my tea?"

"You don't expect me to serve tea in this, do you?"

"No. Take it off."

"Yes, love, and I'm going to keep it off. It's so pretty, but I just can't."

"You can and you will, and I won't discuss it. That's all."

"Geoffrey, I ..."

"Quiet." He silenced her with a kiss, and she had the feeling that the entire matter had been taken out of her hands. When he wanted to be, he was very forceful. "Now get me my tea."

"You're impossible." She took off the dress and got him the tea, but in the end he won. At six o'clock she got out of the tub, did her makeup and her hair, and slipped into the dress. She felt faintly as though she were prostituting herself. A two-thousand-dollar dress was no small gift. Somehow he made it seem like a scarf or a hankie, but this was no hankie. As she slipped the dress over her head, she practically drooled.

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