Wish on the Moon (20 page)

"I'll accept the coat on one condition. You
let me take you out some night."

There was a daring light in her eyes. "To
dinner?"

She laughed and drawled, "Maybe. Or maybe
something else."

"Like...?"

"Let me think about it. Is it a deal?"

Deals with Laura were happening more often.
He was especially pleased with this one. "It's a deal."

Laura's stomach rumbled. She smiled and
unbuttoned the coat.

"Aren't you going to wear it?"

"If the salesclerk cuts off the security
tag." She glanced at the price again. "Mitch..."

He dropped his arm around her shoulders and
shepherded her toward the cash register. "We made a deal. Now that
you won't freeze, let's go to lunch."

***

At five-thirty, Laura waved to Mitch as he
drove away after dropping her off at the house. He had to pick up
his dry cleaning. She opened the front door and hung the new coat
in the closet, holding on to the feeling of hope it gave her. She
loved touching it. Whenever Mitch wore his, she wanted to run her
hands over it. But not as much as she wanted to run them over
him.

They'd connected again. Was it because she'd
told him she was leaving? Did he now feel he could trust her? She
still sensed he was intent on keeping some distance between them.
Because of her father? Or was it more personal?

Did intimacy and love frighten him? She so
much wanted to show him love was meant to be experienced and
shared. True, love could hurt. But it was magical and wonderful
too.

She shut the closet door and homed in on
voices in the sunroom. Just outside the door, she realized the
voices belonged to Nora and Carey, not Nora and her father. She was
just about to turn around and see if Mandy was with her grandfather
when Laura heard Carey's raised voice.

"Mitch wouldn't give it to me. Ma, I need the
money to get my life on track. Won't you talk to him and convince
him to make the loan?"

"When Mitch sets his mind, he doesn't change
it. If he thinks he has a good reason, nothing I say will make a
difference. You know that."

"What am I going to do?" Carey's voice
sounded desperate.

"I have some money. It's only a third of what
you need. I've been saving what Mitch gives me."

"He'll pop his cork if he finds out."

"You decide, Carey. It's yours if you want
it."

He was silent for at least a minute. "I'll
take it."

"You won't do anything foolish?"

"No, Ma. Your stake is going to change my
life. You'll see."

Laura heard his boots cross the ceramic floor
and she guessed he kissed and hugged Nora.

"You go back to your crocheting. I have
things to do."

Before she could move, Carey came out of the
sunroom and saw her. They stared at each other silently.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. It
just sort of happened."

"Please don't tell Mitch."

"You should tell him and prevent the
fireworks."

Carey seemed to cringe at the word. "It's not
necessary. Why stir the pot when you don't have to? When I turn the
money into what I need, I'll pay Ma back and the case will be
closed. No arguments, no fuss."

"Turn the money into what you need?" Laura
hoped she was wrong about what she was thinking. "What are you
going to do?"

"I'm going to take one last chance."

"Tell me you're not going to gamble
again."

He held up his hand and lowered his voice so
his mother couldn't hear. "Just one more time. And it won't be
gambling. I have friends at the track. I'll wait for a good solid
tip."

"You're lying to yourself, Carey. There are
no solid tips. Don't you know that by now? Call someone from
Gamblers Anonymous. If I can't talk you out of--"

"I have to do this." His hand rested briefly
on Laura's shoulder. "It will be all right. I know what I'm
doing."

Laura knew all the words in the world
wouldn't change his mind. "For your sake, I hope you do."

His fingers tightened. "Promise me you won't
tell Mitch."

"That's a hard promise to make."

"Trust me with this, Laura. Please."

She doubted if anyone had trusted Carey in
the past few years. He needed that, maybe more than he needed the
money, though he didn't seem to realize it.

Knowing she was probably making a mistake,
but unable to deprive Carey of the faith he needed, she pledged
softly, "I won't tell Mitch." But a corner of her heart protested
and she wondered if she'd just sunk her foot into quicksand.

CHAPTER TEN

When Laura entered Applegate Jewelers in
Harrisburg with Mitch, it was immediately clear this was Mitchell
Riley's exclusive domain. The security system was state of the art
and the layout was more conducive to case shopping.

Pale blue plush carpeting formed a muted
backdrop for the angled cases of wood and glass protecting the
store's inventory. The store echoed class and quality, just like
Mitch. He'd unbuttoned his suit coat and brushed it back. His hands
were stuffed in his pockets.

"I like the atmosphere here, Mitch."

He grinned. "Not too formal and stilted?"

"No. It's elegant."

Mitch cupped her elbow. "I want to show you
my workshop before I introduce you to everyone. You can leave your
coat in there."

He'd been friendly since she'd accepted his
present, but she hadn't seen much of him the past few days. He'd
been here, preparing for this. Tonight he was also friendly and
pleasant, but keeping his distance too. He was being careful not to
get too close or touch her too often.

Laura followed him to the back of the store
into a short hall. He opened the door to the right and flicked on
the light.

She stepped over the threshold and blinked,
letting her eyes adjust to the bright incandescent lighting. With
difficulty she switched her attention from Mitch to the workroom. A
sink stood under a four by four foot window with workbenches on
either side. Vats next to the sink were used to dip the jewelry
after the pieces were worked on. A hood hung over the soldering
area and there was a switch to turn on the fan to ventilate the
room. Small tools--files, screwdrivers, tweezers--were lined up on
each worktable.

This workroom was similar to her father's but
more modern. Cabinets with supplies lined a wall. In the corner
stood a polishing machine. The tan walls and beige industrial tile
floor added lightness to the room.

Laura crossed to a workbench, picked up a
bracelet mandrel used to hold a bracelet while it was being worked
and set it down. Glasses lay open on the pocked and lined surface.
She picked them up. "Are these yours?"

"Um hmm. I need them for close work."

She remembered Nora's glasses and their very
weak prescription. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

"I keep a pair here and a pair in my glove
compartment so I have them when I need them."

She carried the glasses to Mitch. "Put them
on. I want to see how they look."

"Laura..."

"Come on," she urged, holding them out to
him.

After he adjusted them on his nose, she
swiveled his head to the side. Lightning struck when her fingers
touched his jaw. She felt the jolt go through him too when the
muscle in his cheek jumped.

Lowering her hand, she took a deep breath to
steady her knees. "Very distinguished. I like them."

He turned his head so his eyes caught hers.
The primitive desire there caused her pulse to thud.

He broke the circuit of sensual energy by
taking off the glasses, folding them carefully, and laying them
back on the workbench. Then he unnecessarily straightened a file
folder. "I'm glad you approve."

Laura's intuition told her it wasn't just the
sexual tension between them that was bothering Mitch. "Are you
nervous?"

He rubbed his thumb along his chin and she
saw vulnerability in his blue eyes. "Now's the time for that moral
support."

Laura unbuttoned her new coat and slid it
over a stool to keep herself from hugging him. "What's bothering
you?"

He shook his head as if disgusted with
himself. "I know it's stupid. I created what I wanted to create.
And it shouldn't matter if anyone else likes it and wants to buy
it. But it does. Oh, not so I can make the sale, though that's
important. But because if someone wants to own it, that means they
understand my concept of beauty and appreciate it."

Laura stepped toward him. "I know what you
mean."

The bond between them at that moment was so
strong, she felt paralyzed. Until Mitch reached out and brushed a
strand of hair away from her cheek. Then she felt so activated she
could hardly stand still.

His eyes swept over her face and down her
magenta sweater dress. His gaze scorched her as it touched her
throat, her breasts, her waist, her calves. She trembled.

Mitch took a step back, but his voice was
grating and sensual. His eyes darkened with the passion he wouldn't
set free. "It's time to face the public."

She wished he'd face his feelings. "I'm ready
when you are."

Mitch introduced Laura to his assistant
manager and three sales clerks. All of them urged her to find a
place near the hexagonal case with the black velvet covering so
she'd have a good view. She squeezed close, bumping elbows with the
man on her right and shoulders with the woman on her left. Laura
smiled in apology but wedged closer.

When Mitch tugged the covering away from the
glass, a hush fell over the crowd. Jewelry was a language. It
stated what a person felt about herself or himself--if he or she
was confident, reserved, stylish, or traditional. Mitch expressed
himself through the medium of this language with the same passion
that had broken through in their hotel suite in Flagstaff. Each
piece was an intense, individual statement. His work captured
attention, stimulated curiosity and interest. It ranged from the
deceptively simple to the obviously complex.

There was a Pegasus pin fashioned from
copper...a silver owl sitting on an ivory branch...a fan created
from gold, studded with abalone...another gold piece pierced and
filed to create the illusion of a web...a sleek gold panther with a
black pearl eye.

To the right side of the case were the more
expensive pieces with precious gems--brooches, pendants,
earrings.

The crowning achievement at the very center
of the case was a monarch butterfly pin designed from baguette
diamonds, amethysts and emeralds.

Mitch's collection wasn't a reflection of
present vogue. It was unique and timeless. Each piece emanated
vitality and was meant to be worn and treasured for a lifetime.
Laura felt tears swim in her eyes. His jewelry revealed a facet of
Mitch that had no other outlet. She was proud to know him.

The hush changed to a low hum as the
customers moved around the glass. Laura stepped back and walked
toward Mitch.

Beside him, she murmured, "They're beautiful,
Mitch. So beautiful. You should be very proud."

When Mitch faced her, he saw the shimmering
depth of her emotion and knew she understood. She hadn't been
mouthing platitudes earlier. She really understood that his heart
and soul and passion was here...in his work. "This is what I love
to do. That's a year's work in that case, a year of stealing time
where I could find it. My memory's a storehouse of colors, shapes,
textures, lines and forms that are aching to come out. If I could,
I'd do nothing but design."

"If you'd give your assistant manager more
responsibility and hire someone to help with repair work, maybe you
could."

"I've thought about that. But I'd have to be
absolutely sure..." He stopped. He wasn't comfortable with a risk
in his business life any more than in his personal life.

"Sure of what?"

"It would have to be worthwhile creatively
and financially. The market has changed over the years from a few
people buying large jewels to a multitude buying smaller
investments. That's why there's been such a rise in quantity
production, home network shopping. But there still are those
customers who want and value the unique. I have to make sure the
local market is big enough to warrant more of my time."

She touched his arm. "You have the market.
Look around you. You're a success, Mitch. You can do whatever you
want."

She made him feel like a success, like the
world was at his feet. She was as shimmering as any of the gems
he'd ever handled, as vibrant. She fairly hummed with life.

Mitch's assistant manager tapped him on the
shoulder. Reluctantly he shifted his gaze from Laura to the younger
man who had been running the store in Mitch's absence.

"Mrs. Waltheim wants to talk to you about
designing another butterfly in different colors."

"Go ahead, Mitch," Laura encouraged. "I'll
look around."

As Mitch talked to patrons, Laura circulated,
admired the designs, and watched Mitch. Several times she caught
him watching her. The potency of that gaze was enough to make her
giddy.

When everyone had left, Mitch activated the
security system and Laura fetched her coat from the workroom. He
locked the door and glanced at his watch. "It's early. Would you
like to see my apartment? Or do you want to get home?"

"Mandy's cold is gone. She's sleeping by now.
I'd like to see where you live."

"I bought a small bottle of champagne in case
I had something to celebrate." He looked sheepish, like a boy
revealing he still slept with his teddy bear. "We sold everything,
so we have reason."

"Even if you hadn't sold everything, you'd
have reason."

He seemed embarrassed, as if praise was
foreign to him. She took his arm. "I'm ready for bubbles to tickle
my nose."

His look said tickling her nose might be the
last item on his list.