Rags to Rubies (4 page)

“I’m perfectly fine, Mr. de Warre. Mr. Hollister gives me Saturday mornings off. I didn’t have to come to work until noon today, so I slept in a bit. Thank you for asking.” Grace turned and said over her shoulder, “I just have to lock the safe and we can be on our way. Please excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

****

Grace escaped into the back room, leaned against the storeroom wall, and took a deep, calming breath. As soon as Jared entered the store the familiar flutter of her stomach had returned. How could her body betray her like this? Maybe it had to do with the unnerving half-smile he wore.

Last night she’d convinced herself it was the gloom of the night that had muddled her senses and that, on the morrow, he wouldn’t look quite so...well, so delicious. Unfortunately, she found daylight did nothing to diminish the effect his presence had on her.

She couldn’t deny the man fascinated her. She’d gazed at the ceiling of her bedroom for an hour last night before falling into a fitful slumber. Obviously he hadn’t suffered similarly. He seemed quite in command of himself.

Smugly so.

Grace opened the door to the back room. “I’m going to close now, Leo,” Grace said to the gray-haired man bending over a jeweler’s glass set upon his desk.

“Yes, of course,” the man answered absently. Then he looked up, blinked a few times and frowned. “Do you need me for anything?”

“No. I’ll put the pieces in the vault before I leave,” Grace responded, thinking how invisible she had eventually become to her father at the end. As invisible as she was to her boss now.

Leo turned back to the jewels, scribbled down some dimensions, and slid two of the precious stones into a small brown envelope. “Have a nice time with your young man,” Leo called after her.

“He’s not my young man,” Grace muttered remembering Bruna’s warning when she’d stopped to have lunch with her aunt before continuing on to work today.

After hearing about the previous night’s adventures, Bruna had cautioned, “Careful,
cara mia
, he’sa no in...how you say—
tua classe
?” Even with her aunt’s broken English, Grace got the message loud and clear.

As Grace gathered up the expensive pieces from the window display and counters, she stole a few glances at Jared as he studied the pieces in the case. Few men she knew filled out their clothes as well as he did. His linen shirt was monogrammed, stuffed loosely into dark trousers and open at the collar. Definitely not protocol. Even working-class men wore jackets in public.

His thick hair had already begun to curl on the line of his nape where it had dried. Attractive, even though the ebony color gave him a nefarious look. He was definitely not a slicker. He had his own unique style. Whatever his reasons for not following the current fashion, she liked the results.

Plastering a smile on her face, she opened the storeroom door. “Just give me a moment more to put a few pieces into the vault.”

“Take your time. I’m not in a hurry.”

Grace gathered up the jewelry and turned to open the heavy door of the vault. Placing the gems inside, she closed the safe, bending forward to lift the heavy latch into place.

Turning back toward Jared, she noticed his gaze had roamed to her derrière. “I’m ready,” she snapped, challenging him with a level look that only brought a smile to his lips. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. The wretch enjoyed making her blush.

“I’ll lock the front door,” Grace called over her shoulder. When she didn’t receive an answer, she sighed and responded, “Goodnight, Leo.”

“How about a bite to eat first?” Jared asked, helping her into her cardigan sweater. “I have a nagging feeling that I appealed to your neighborly goodwill last night when I asked for a tour of the neighborhood.”

“That’s not necessary,” she answered, not ready to forgive his roaming eyes. He should have been embarrassed to be caught looking at her like that.

“Ah, but it is. I can’t have my tour guide faint with hunger, making yet another black mark on my already tarnished reputation.”

“I hardly believe you to be a scoundrel. I believe we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. We hardly know each other, and I have no opinion about you one way or another.”

“Most people don’t hesitate to judge me, Miss Hathaway,” he said, “whether they know me or not.” He reached around her to open the door.

Once outside, she inserted the key and locked the deadbolt. “Probably because it amuses you so much to toy with them.”

“Perhaps.”

“Shall we call ourselves by our given names, Mr. de Warre?”

“Certainly, Grace. Do you like Italian food?” he asked opening the automobile’s door for her.

The sound of her name on his lips was surprisingly sweet.

Chapter Five

“Very nifty,” Grace said stepping back to admire the flashy chrome headlights and whitewall tires of the sleek black-and-green Stutz Black Hawk parked at the curb. She stepped onto the running board and ran her hand over one of the dual side-mount tires. “I heard that Stutz came in second at Le Mans, first time out.” She stepped into the seat and smoothed her skirt gracefully over her legs.

“Best time an American car ever made.” Jared rounded the automobile and slid behind the wooden steering wheel. “Would have come in first, but those Bentley boys snuck by at the last minute. Brisson’s top speed was 68 miles an hour. Hard to beat that.”

He pulled the roadster into the line of traffic, savoring the sensual pleasure of handling the expensive machine. New York was another matter. In the city he let Henry Cobb, his chauffeur, fight the traffic.

“Interesting. You seem to know where you’re going,” Grace commented a few minutes later as they left the busy traffic behind and wound their way through the narrow streets into working class neighborhoods.

To Jared, Chicago was like a small town compared to New York or London. He felt comfortable here. An affinity derived from familiarity. A feeling he always came back to even though the memories held some ghosts for him.

“I have a confession to make.”

“Oh, no, should I get a priest?” Grace asked. “Father Keating at Sacred Heart hears confessions until 6:00 on Saturdays. But please remember he’s sixty-two and has a weak heart.”

“Very funny.” Jared deftly shifted gears. “Are you cold?” He glanced over at Grace, who shook her head no. She was busy examining the dials on the dashboard. “The weather turned out to be so mild today that I couldn’t resist taking out the roadster. Could be the last chance to run it this year.”

She sat back in the seat. “So what confession do you want to make? Could it have anything to do with the big lie you told about needing help to get the lay of the land?”

Jared pulled to the side of a dirt street in front of a restaurant named Clementi’s and turned off the car. He angled himself so he could see Grace and ran his arm along the back of the beige leather seat. He pointed to the sign over the red door. “The proprietor is a friend of mine.” One of the few men he called friend, he could have added. Salvatore Clementi and his wife, Theresa, owned and operated the small but lucrative enterprise. Sallie’s neighborhood restaurant sat on a back street far enough away from the action to be of little interest to mobsters and their protection rackets.

Sallie was a good man to know in a city that had more than its share of predators. Their relationship spanned many years and included a shared youth. “And yes, I did lie about not knowing my way around.” Jared rounded the vehicle, opened the door for Grace, and extended his hand.

Grace smiled up at him as she placed her hand in his.

If Jared could have pulled away without appearing a cad, he would have. A disturbing flash of laid-bare intimacy passed through their clasped hands. The startled expression on Grace’s face revealed she also felt it. By the force of sheer will power, he tugged her to her feet and quickly let go. She looked up at him, eyes wide, then shook her hand slightly and rubbed it against her thigh.

He didn’t have a name for what had just taken place. Even though it had been extremely pleasurable, he didn’t want to explore it too carefully. So he took in and expelled a deep breath, extended an arm toward the red door, and followed Grace through the entrance.

Jared knew Sal was comfortable in his life with his wife and his role as father, husband, and provider. And while he was slightly envious of his friend’s contentedness, Jared also recognized that he’d never felt the need or even the inclination to share his life with another person. He couldn’t remember any tenderness, any human warmth in his childhood.

Oh, he had longed for closeness once, for some show of affection; then the yearning died and he was comfortable with what remained. He found safety in it. He didn’t know if he could live with the responsibilities and emotional ties of love. Since he didn’t believe in the silly emotion, he had nothing to offer a spouse.

And he suspected if he ever did fall in love and lost, the blow would be fatal.

Sal greeted Jared and Grace at the door. A bear of a man with black, thick hair and bushy eyebrows, Sal towered over Jared by several inches. His wide smile and straight white teeth set off his dark coloring and illuminated his face. Throwing his enormous arms around Jared in a warm embrace, Sal kissed him on both cheeks as usual.

“It is good to see you my friend. You have stayed away too long. Come in, come in.
Theresa!
” Sal shouted to his wife. “
Veni qui!
Look who is here!”

Jared saw Theresa peek out of the kitchen and blow him a kiss. When she rounded the corner, Jared picked her up and twirled her around. “Why didn’t I meet you before this big bushy
dago
?” he laughed as his friend flashed him a rather obscene Italian gesture and tugged Theresa out of his arms.

“I saved your sorry ass in school a hundred times,” Sal scowled, “and this is how you repay me?”

Jared introduced Grace and spent several minutes exchanging pleasantries with his friends. Then Sal led them through the main dining room, where several families with children sat enjoying their supper at wooden tables covered with checkered oilcloth. They wound their way to the back of the restaurant, where a table was set into an alcove.

“Usually they are carbon copies of one another,” Sallie whispered to Jared as he led them toward the table. “Beautiful, but self-centered. This one seems different, my friend. Maybe there is hope for you.”

Italian music tinkled in the background from a Victrola. Soft light from candles melting over old wine jugs created an intimate atmosphere. “My best table for my friend and his friend,” Sal said as he winked at Jared. Leaning down he whispered, “
Belladonna
,” bringing three fingertips to his lips in a silent kiss as he seated them in the booth.

Jared smiled. “Thanks, Sallie. The usual for me and a menu for Miss Hathaway.”

“The usual will be fine with me, too, Sallie,” Grace said, sliding onto the wooden bench, closing her menu, and handing it to Sallie with a smile.

The huge Italian turned, flipping a bar towel over his shoulder. “
Va bene
—two usuals coming up.” He exited whistling his off-key version of “O Sole Mio.”

“Shame on you for leading me to believe you needed a tour of the area,” Grace scolded as she wagged a finger at him. “You can find your way around just fine, I see.” She set her purse on the seat.

Jared grinned across the white cotton tablecloth. He moved the candle to the side so he could see her better. “Actually, I spent a good deal of my youth in Chicago. Now I conduct most of my business in New York and London, so I keep homes there.”

What he didn’t tell her was that he felt a connection to the city, a bittersweet connection, and came back to Chicago occasionally to fill up, to center himself, to salve the hard parts of him that threatened to take over.

“Do you enjoy living here, Grace?” he inquired. Somehow she seemed out of place in the city. In his mind’s eye, he saw her surrounded by wildflowers, blending her subtle scent with the sweetness of clover and the smell of new grass after a summer rain. Damn! Where were these foolish thoughts coming from?

“I prefer the country, but there’s an excitement about the city that I love. Whenever I leave, I feel it when I return.” She went on to tell him of the family vacations of her youth to the seashore at Newport Beach, Long Island, The Hamptons. “Most of my mother’s family lived on the East Coast. It’s where she met my father.” She sighed. “It’s so different there. Sometimes I long for a breath of cool sea air without the dust and grime of the city.”

“Then why did you stay in the city after your father died?”

“My work is here. Leo Hollister was good enough to keep me on after Papa died. My father taught me everything I needed to know about the antique appraisal business.” She ran a finger down the melting candle wax. “My aunt moved here from Italy to care for me when my mother passed away. But now Bruna isn’t well. Another move would not have been in her best interests.”

“What type of jewelry do you appraise?”

“My father was considered an expert in Renaissance jewelry, and that’s where my reputation also lies. He left a small estate that helps pay the bills and allows me to care for Zia Bruna.”

“So you don’t need anything? You are content?”

The question seemed to catch her off guard. She blinked twice at him then looked down.

“Yes, I’m content.”

Jared wondered briefly if maybe she had simply convinced herself so.

“Actually, my favorite place in the whole world is a tiny town called Allens Grove, population two hundred thirty-eight, in Wisconsin,” Grace said. “My parents owned a cabin on a pond there, surrounded by twenty acres of woods. It’s beautiful in the winter, like a picture postcard.”

Jared watched as her face became animated. She smiled often, a crooked little smile, and spoke with enthusiasm, using her graceful hands to paint invisible pictures of words and objects.