Priceless (25 page)

She wore a pale green Armani gown, tea-length, made of very fine, clingy silk jersey. Simple shoes matched, and she’d twisted her hair into a low, smooth knot. Her makeup was a little more daring. Iridescent green and blue eye shadow the color of peacock feathers brought out the deep green of her eyes, and the barest hint of glitter touched her eyelashes. Her lips were pale but perfectly drawn and made her eyes seem even larger. From behind, she looked like an elegant swan, but when she turned her gaze on you, she revealed a far more exotic creature.

Mrs. Karraby admired the effect from a distance, watching her daughter’s new friend as she chatted to the other guests. To most people, Leila Karraby was a puzzle. Beautiful, aloof, elegant, she cultivated an air of reserve that kept most people at a distance. It had become such a habit that sometimes she even scared the pants off her own loved ones. But at the same time, she was famous for helping her poorer neighbors and for chiding her wealthier friends for not doing more to be of practical service. In the first, terrible night when the levees broke, Leila Karraby had organized boats to ferry people from their roofs and had housed ten families in her own home. In the days that followed, she had been among the first to venture into the still-flooded Ninth Ward, saving all they could, before the official rescuers arrived—too little, too late—and prevented them from doing more. She’d covered sun-bloated bodies, marking each one with a date and time and searching each face before she did so, hoping to remember them so she could provide closure for a family grieving later on. And she’d worked the phones, bullying every contact she could think of in every Gulf Coast state to get off their asses and do something. She never talked about it, or rarely, but her name was mentioned fondly in those districts where wealthy New Orleanians rarely ventured.

Jackson knew all of this and had hugged her warmly when he’d first arrived. Leila was wearing a deep red velvet dress, her dark red hair loose about her shoulders, and Jackson thought for the hundredth time how much like Kat she looked. For several minutes, they talked about the rebuilding efforts and what he’d been doing since high school, and then Leila had dropped her voice and asked about Charlotte.

“Katherine tells me you and she are an item already.”

Jackson blushed a little. He’d known Mrs. Karraby since grade school and still thought of her as someone else’s mother. “Well, yes. She’s not at all what you would think.”

“And what would I think?” Leila was sharp.

“That she was spoiled. Entitled. Shallow.” He watched Charlotte talking to Kat on the other side of the room. “She’s had a terrible shock, you know, and I think she’s holding it together pretty well.” He looked keenly at Mrs. Karraby. “Sometimes bad things make us better people. You’d be the first to say it.”

She smiled at him briefly. “If there is substance there in the first place, then adversity brings it out. But if there’s nothing there, then it just as easily gets revealed.” She watched her daughter. “I worry about Kat. I want her to find friends, of course, but I don’t want her to be hurt.”

Jackson nodded. “I think Kat is stronger than you think, too.”

Leila shrugged gracefully. “Maybe. But I am her mother, so she will always get my protection, whether she needs it or not.”

At dinner, she sat across from Charlotte and began her interrogation.

“So, Charlotte, I hear you were enrolled at Yale. Have you dropped out?”

Charlotte took a breath and a sip of wine. Needless to say, all conversations nearby had stopped, and she was basically answering for the benefit of everyone at the table. Well, she’d been warned.

“I think I am taking a leave of absence. I contacted the dean, and he graciously allowed me some time off to deal with my father’s legal case. Once the future becomes a little clearer, I can make a decision.”

“And you were studying law?”

Charlotte nodded.

“Ironic.” Leila’s voice was smooth.

Charlotte nodded again. Down the table, Kat frowned, trying to catch her mother’s eye.

Her father took her hand and squeezed it, whispering in her ear. “Your mother is grilling Charlotte for your protection, baby, and there’s nothing you can do to stop her. You might as well have another glass of wine and enjoy the show.” He laughed gently. “I have a feeling our Miss Williams might be able to take care of herself.”

Leila’s garnet necklace glittered in the candlelight, matching the wine in the crystal glasses on her perfectly set table. “And now you’re working in my husband’s kitchen?”

“Yes. It has been a new experience for me.”

“I imagine so.”

“But a good one. I hadn’t really had to do much until now. It was a relief to discover I was actually capable of doing something constructive.”

Leila smiled. One point to Charlotte. “And your mother, of course, was Jackie Williams. A beauty for the ages.”

Charlotte inclined her head. “Thank you.”

“You take after her.”

“That’s a very great compliment.”

“Are you planning on doing any modeling yourself?”

“No.”

“And you recently returned from Paris, is that right?”

“Yes. I spent a year there at the Sorbonne.”

“Because you burned down a building at Yale?”

Charlotte’s hand wobbled, but she managed not to spill anything.
Fuck.
She had been totally lulled by the pleasant conversation and hadn’t seen it coming at all. Deep breath.

She managed a rueful smile. “You heard about that? Yes, I’m afraid a broken heart led me to make a very poor decision. Fortunately, no one was hurt.”

“And your father was able to rebuild the building.”

“Yes, but whether or not they’ll want to keep an embezzler’s name on the political science building is an open question.”

Surprisingly, Leila Karraby laughed. “Yes, although there’s something fitting in it. It’s not as if politicians are known for their honor.”

Charlotte’s face became grave. “Despite what you might have read, my father is an honorable man, in his own way. I would like to believe that the sudden death of my mother made him lose his way. He will pay for his crime, and I hope those who lost money will get it back.”

Leila could see she had offended her. But she let it slide for the moment. “Although if they do, that will presumably leave you with very little.”

Charlotte made a face. “May I be blunt, Mrs. Karraby?” The other guests went quiet.

“Of course.”

“All the money I had didn’t make me happy. In the last week or so, I’ve had more moments of true happiness and satisfaction than I can ever remember in my life before. Even despite being attacked. Maybe it’s easy to say because the reality of my situation isn’t clear yet, and maybe the novelty of poverty will quickly wear off once it becomes permanent, but for right now, I think I’m pretty damn fortunate.” She grinned down the table
at Kat. “Just meeting your daughter has been one of the luckiest things that ever happened to me, and that came at no price at all.”

Leila was impressed but not ready to show it. “Well, Miss Williams, let’s hope it never does.”

Charlotte raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that, Mrs. Karraby.”

Suddenly, her hostess smiled. “You can call me Leila.”

ONCE DINNER WAS
over, Leila and Charlotte circled each other cautiously. This being just a “small” affair, there was only the single dessert table, set up in a conservatory just off the dining room. It was fortunate that Charlotte didn’t have a sweet tooth, or she might have burst her zipper. Profiteroles formed a perfect pyramid, vying for title of tallest dessert with a pile of strawberries that glistened with freshness and threatened to topple into the vat of whipped cream waiting alongside them. A pecan pie, of course, and a lemon meringue pie for those who liked their sweet with a hint of tart. Jackson and Kat had both offered their congratulations on surviving dinner intact.

“Wow, my mother really likes you.” Kat looked relaxed for the first time all night. “I was terrified.”

“She likes me? What would she have said if she didn’t?” Charlotte was pleased that her friend was happy, but she herself was still reeling from some of Leila’s comments.

“Oh, she would have been much nicer if she didn’t like you.” Kat sighed as she looked at the table. “You know, it’s just as well women used to be slightly bigger and that I like vintage clothing so I can pull off these ten extra my mother keeps on me.” She reached over to dollop some cream alongside her pecan pie.

Charlotte noticed how slender her friend was and smiled to herself. “You look perfect to me,” she said, and a voice from behind agreed with her.

“A little thin, perhaps, but I understand that’s the fashion these days.” Leila Karraby was even more beautiful up close, and she and Charlotte looked each other over with frank appreciation. “Did my daughter find this dress for you, Charlotte, or is it one of your own?”

“This one is mine, Mrs. Karraby, but Kat has an amazing collection at her store. You must be very proud of her.”

Kat snorted. “She thinks it’s just a hobby.”

Leila frowned. “Maybe that was true at first, Katherine, but not anymore. You’ve done very well for yourself, and you’ve stuck to what you care about. That’s all a mother could ever want, to be honest. You’re happy, so I’m happy.” She smiled at Charlotte. “I expect your mother would be very happy to see how well you’re handling what must have been a very difficult experience. I’m sorry if I seemed a little sharp at dinner. It’s just my way. I’m actually very impressed with your poise in the face of all this trouble.”

Charlotte was surprised to feel tears pricking her eyes. If Leila and Kat noticed, they were kind enough not to mention it. “Well, I hope she would be proud of me. But if she were here, I imagine things would have worked out very differently.” She suddenly remembered her mother’s friend speaking about Jackie’s desire for more children, a dream echoed by her father that day in jail. “I’d probably not be going through it alone, anyway.”

Leila squeezed her hand warmly. “If you need any help at all while you’re here, a lawyer, or someone to help with the press, just let me know. There aren’t many people I don’t know in this town.”

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Karraby. Your family have been lifesavers. Your husband’s generosity alone has been amazing.”

“And don’t forget I introduced you to Target.” Kat was pouting.

“Well, then,” said her mother dryly, “that’s worth a kidney just on its own.”

Charlotte grinned. “If Kat needs a kidney, she knows where to come.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Now, I’m going to get another drink. It might be a liver transplant I’m needing at this rate.”

Charlotte felt someone watching her and looked up to see Jackson from across the room. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she made her excuses to Mrs. Karraby and went to him.

“How are you doing? Are you OK?”

Charlotte nodded and stood on her toes to give him a kiss.

He lowered his voice. “You know, there’s a guy over there who owns an important radio station. I’m trying to work up the courage to go speak to him about our music.” He sipped his drink. “But I’m not doing very well.”

Charlotte’s face lit up. “Let’s do a little impromptu performance!” She wanted to help him, loving this new sensation of doing something useful. “I’m sure it would be OK with our hosts.”

He grinned. “Something classic or some of our stuff?”

“Hey, your stuff is classic, just not yet.”

They went over to the piano, a gorgeous Steinway grand,
already propped open.

“Let’s start with something traditional. How about ‘Summertime’? Ella-style rather than Janis-style, OK? Then we’ll shoot forward in time to the ever-popular Ms. Jones. Let’s do ‘Don’t Know Why’ and then the new song you taught me the other day.”

He leaned closer. “OK, but let’s not end up doing it on the piano.”

She smiled into his eyes. “On this piano? I wouldn’t dare. Maybe later at home.”

And with these wicked thoughts in their heads, he played the opening bars of the Gershwin classic.

At first, nobody was paying much attention, presuming it was just the evening’s entertainment, but when Charlotte started to sing, the conversations died down. It wasn’t just that her voice was good. Lots of people sing well. It was that her voice had an intimacy and power that made it compelling. Every person there felt she was singing just for them, but at the same time, they were glad everyone else was hearing it. Kat, watching from the garden room, smiled.

The classic song over, Charlotte took on the more recent Norah Jones song and made that one her own, too. She had a deep voice with a growl at the ready, but for this song, she sang it straight and sweet, leaving out the pain and subtlety she employed for “Summertime.” Then, once everyone was feeling dreamy and warm, she and Jackson launched into “Fire and Ice,” the song he’d written, and the atmosphere heated up. Jackson joined in on the harmonies, and the sexy lyrics and funky modulation had everyone swinging their hips.

Loud applause broke out when they finished, and one man came right over to Jackson and pointed a finger at him.

“That last one is a radio hit waiting to happen, young man. Do you have it recorded yet?”