Another Woman's Man (12 page)

“Dawn?”

“What?” she snapped.

She felt him place a hand underneath her chin, surprising her. He gently tilted it upward. She could have pulled away from him, but she didn't. All her anger dissolved with one touch. When their eyes met, it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Xavier leaned down and drew close to her mouth. Percy had done the same minutes earlier, totally revolting her. But with Xavier she didn't shy away. Her lips parted. She exhaled slowly. She welcomed his proximity and his touch and, for a fleeting moment, hoped that he would lean down and kiss her and end the agony she had been in for weeks.

“I don't give a damn what you say,” Xavier whispered. “Like it or not, you
are
my concern now and I
will
watch out for you. And if I find him—or anyone else, for that matter—touching you like that again, I'll . . .”

His words drifted off. He dropped his hand and abruptly turned away from her, not giving her the chance to respond before he strode down the hallway and out the gallery's door.

Dawn took an unsteady breath, watching him as he retreated. With shaky legs, she walked back to her desk and sat down, taking another calming breath, but it didn't work. Her stomach was still in knots. Her heart still thudded wildly in her chest. And the agony of delayed gratification returned.

Delayed?
a voice in her head mocked.
Girl, he's never going to kiss you!

Because he was with Constance and men like Xavier didn't cheat.

“L
aurie, would you pass me the pepper?” Cynthia asked.

Lauren leaned toward her left, picked up the crystal pepper shaker, and handed it to her sister.

A few minutes later, Dawn also turned to Lauren. “Laurie, can you hand me the coffee pot, please?”

Lauren hesitated. The sterling silver coffeepot sat only inches in front of Cynthia, but Dawn seemed to be making a point of ignoring their eldest sister. In fact, she wouldn't even glance Cynthia's way.

Cynthia supposed that Dawn was still angry at her for making Dawn confess to their mother about connecting with Herbert Allen and his family. That would be the only thing that could explain Dawn still giving her the cold shoulder.

“Umm, OK,” Lauren said as she reached over Cynthia and grabbed the pot. She handed it to Dawn.

“Thanks,” Dawn murmured.

The table fell into painful silence again.

This was undoubtedly a rough start to Saturday brunch at Mama's, a weekly tradition in the Gibbons family. Cynthia had been looking forward to having brunch with her sisters, knowing it would be the first in a long time that would include just the women in the family. Crisanto was away on a business trip. Keith was doing some investigative work for one of his cases. No husbands or boyfriends would be intruding into their happy little female circle—or so Cynthia thought. She hadn't known that Dawn would arrive at the brunch with a stick shoved up her ass, ruining all the happiness.

Fine with me, bitch,
Cynthia thought flippantly as she continued to eat her eggs Benedict and glower at Dawn, who sat on the other side of Lauren at the table.
Two can play at that game.

Cynthia made a big production of loudly clearing her throat. “Steph, can you hand me a croissant?”

Stephanie, who now took eating as seriously as she once took a Louboutin shoe sale, stopped midbite of bacon and cheese biscuits. “Why me? The basket is right in front of Dawn,” she said between munches.

“I didn't ask Dawn to pass the croissants. I asked
you
,” Cynthia answered tersely through clenched teeth.

“Well, excuse me!” Stephanie exclaimed, reaching for the basket.

Dawn sipped from her glass of orange juice and shook her head. She laughed coldly. “I swear, some people so petty.”

“
I'm
petty?” Cynthia shouted with outrage. “What about—”

“Enough!” their mother declared, tossing her napkin onto the linen tablecloth, making her silverware clatter. Her voice echoed in the sunroom. “Enough of this nonsense!”

Everyone fell silent again.

“Cindy, Dawn, whatever problem you two have with each other, you better end it
right now!
” Yolanda ordered.

“I don't have a problem,” Cynthia said, casually fluffing her sun-kissed curls. “Dawn's the one acting like someone ran over her dog.”

“Of course you don't have a problem!” Dawn spat. “You're always the one to light the match, start the bonfire, and then act like you can't smell any smoke!”

“That's it,” their mother said as she pushed her rattan chair away from the table. “Thanks to you girls, I've lost my appetite. If you are going to continue to act as if you're ten-year-olds, I'm not going to sit around and watch. I've got too many other things to do today!”

Just then, Crisanto Jr.'s wails filled the sunroom. He lay in his baby-blue bassinet, not too far from the table where the women sat. Lauren furrowed her brows with worry as she reached for her son.

“What's the matter, Pooh Bear?” Lauren cooed.

“No,” Yolanda said, walking around the table toward the bassinet.

Lauren stopped.

“No, you finish your breakfast, Laurie. And talk to your sisters. Maybe you can snap some sense into them. Meanwhile, I'll take care of the baby. Come with Grandma, honey.” She reached into the bassinet and scooped her weeping grandson into her arms. She adjusted his blanket and gently bounced him up and down. She eyed Cynthia and Dawn. “I need a break anyway.”

Their mother strode across the room and up the short flight of steps from the sunroom.

When the sound of Little Cris's cries and their mother's high heels disappeared, Lauren gazed at her sisters. “What the hell was that about?”

“Whatever it was, Mama's pissed,” Stephanie whispered between chews.

“She's pissed,” Dawn explained, “because Cindy doesn't know how to keep her big fat mouth shut.”

“No,” Cynthia clarified loudly, “Mama is pissed because she found out that Dawn has been sneaking behind her back, secretly having family dinners with her father—the
same
man who deserted Dawn decades ago!”

“Wait . . . how the hell did Mama find out about that?” Lauren asked.

Dawn crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Cynthia. “Cindy told her.”

Stephanie dropped her biscuit back to her plate and breathed in sharply. “You
didn't!
”

Cynthia pursed her lips, feeling under siege. Why was everyone turning on her like she had done something wrong when clearly Dawn was the one at fault?

“Of course I told her!” Cynthia said defensively. “Mama had a right to know!”

“No, she didn't! I'm not some little girl looking for my daddy! I'm a grown woman who chose to reconnect with my father. I don't need my mother's permission to do that,” Dawn argued.

“Well then you should have had the balls to stand up and say it instead of sneaking around!” Cynthia yelled back.

“OK! OK, guys, stop shouting,” Lauren urged, holding up her hands.

“This wasn't just about me reconnecting with Herb or ‘sneaking around'!” Dawn continued, ignoring Lauren's request for them to quiet down. “You were angry because I consider him family now. You see this shit as some weird competition!”

“It's not just him!” Cynthia bellowed, slapping her hand on the table, making her water glass tip over and water slosh all over the chenille tablecloth.

Stephanie grimaced as she slid back from the table to keep from getting soaked. “Damn, watch it!”

“You had the audacity to call that chick Constance your sister, like she's one of us!” Cynthia yelled.

“No, I had the audacity to refuse to seduce her fiancé
because
she's my sister!” Dawn insisted. “And she
is
my sister, Cindy. We have the same father. That's just a statement of fact!”

“Wait,” Lauren said, holding up her hands again. “Wait! What's this about seducing someone's fiancé?”

Dawn's eyes widened with alarm. “Forget I said that.”

“No, tell them!” Cynthia said. Her wicked smile broadened. “Tell them about your sexy young lawyer.”

Cynthia watched as Dawn gritted her teeth. “He isn't
my
sexy lawyer. Like I said, he's Constance's fiancé and nothing is going on between us.
Nothing!
”

“So why does Cindy think you want to seduce him?” Lauren asked.

“Because she's a shit stirrer!” Dawn proclaimed. “Look, can we please change the subject? I don't want to talk about Xavier. To even suggest that he and I have something going on is just . . . just ridiculous. Trust me!”

“Why is it so ridiculous?” Stephanie asked, rubbing her pregnant belly.

“Because he would never hook up with me.” Dawn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “He's not like that. It's not in his makeup.”

Cynthia was taken aback by that revelation and even more shocked at the longing she heard lingering in her sister's voice.

“Besides, this has nothing to do with him. The issue at hand is Cindy's big mouth!” She opened her eyes and glared at Cynthia again. “You couldn't keep a secret to save your life!”

“Oh, yes, I can!”

“She does have a point, Cindy,” Stephanie ventured before sliding back to the table and returning to her plate.

“Yes, I can!” she said adamantly. “I can keep a damn secret! I've kept plenty of secrets over the years, I'll have you know!”

“Name one!” Dawn challenged.

“Well, Mama has a stalker, for one.” Cynthia triumphantly raised her pert nose into the air. “None of you knew about that!”

The entire table fell silent again as her sisters stared at her, aghast.

“A stalker!”
they shouted in unison.

“Mama has someone stalking her?
Who?
” Stephanie asked, clutching her chest in alarm.

“Why the hell am I just hearing about this?” Lauren cried. “Cindy, of all the secrets to keep—girl, this isn't one of them! Why did Mama tell you and didn't say anything to the rest of us?”

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Because she doesn't know about the stalker either.”

They all stared at her, confused. She gave a furtive glance at the sunroom entrance to make sure their mother wasn't standing there, then told her sisters the story of her past run-ins with Beatrice.

“Well, I'll be damned,” Dawn mumbled as she slumped back in her chair after Cynthia finished telling her story. “She sounds like a nutball.”

“That bullfrog is cheating on my mama!” Stephanie exclaimed, looking outraged. She slowly shook her head. “Damn, times must be hard when a guy like that has women fighting over him.”

“I wouldn't call it a real fight. So far all she's done is talk a good game. All she does is follow Mama around,” Cynthia said. “She hasn't actually
done
anything.”

“So far,” Lauren clarified. “You say ‘so far,' but what if that changes, Cindy? What if Mama could seriously be in danger? Why haven't you told her?”

Cynthia shrugged. “She's been so focused on the wedding, I just didn't want to upset her.”

“Yet you had absolutely no problem telling her about what I was doing,” Dawn said petulantly.

“All right, ladies,” Lauren huffed. “Please let's not start that again. Let's focus on Mama and this stalker lady.”

“Don't worry. I'm keeping tabs on it,” Cynthia assured. “Like everything else around here, I've got it covered.”

“You better,” Dawn warned, sipping from her glass of orange juice again. “We don't want Mama to end up with a knife in her back or with dead rabbits boiling in her kitchen pot.”

Stephanie stopped slicing into her sausage link, looked up from her plate, and frowned. “But Mama doesn't have any rabbits.”

At that, her sisters all turned, stared at her, and burst into laughter.

D
awn sat down in the wingback chair, feeling like a big ball of nerves. She gripped the chair's padded armrests so tightly that her royal purple nails dug into the upholstery. She had to remind herself to let go lest she make nail-sized crescent indentations in the leather—which wasn't quite the “impression” she wanted to leave behind. So she let go of the armrests and clasped her hands together in her lap instead.

“Are you sure I can't get you anything to drink?” Madison McGuire asked as she lowered herself to the sofa facing Dawn.

The two women sat in Madison's lavishly decorated living room, which had bay windows that overlooked a small arbor and Maddie's vegetable garden, both of which were covered in icicles and a fine layer of snow. Dawn could hear Maddie's son, Nicholas, playing video games in the next room. Maddie's lobbyist husband, Rick McGuire, was in their French country kitchen, having a hushed conversation on his cell phone. Meanwhile, the two women gazed at one another in uncomfortable silence.

“No, I'm . . . I'm fine,” Dawn finally answered.

Maddie fluffed one of the gold dupioni silk sofa pillows behind her before slumping back. “Well, I must admit, I was surprised to hear from you. I hadn't spoken to you since the exhibit in December. So what brings you here today?”

Dawn hesitated, not sure how to answer that question. Should she come straight out and say why she had come here to Maddie's Capitol Hill townhome on a Friday afternoon, or try a more tactful approach? What exactly was the proper etiquette for begging someone for a job?

Maddie gazed at her, assessing her shrewdly. “I'm guessing this is more than a social call.”

Dawn nodded. “You're right.”

“So don't beat around the bush!” Maddie beckoned her with her hand. “Tell me why you're here.”

Why she was here, in short, was because Percy's last sexual harassment attempt had been the final straw. Though Dawn loved Templeton Gallery and the staff, she knew she couldn't work there anymore. What if Xavier hadn't made his unexpected appearance last week? What if she hadn't been able to fight off Percy? Even now, she shuddered at how badly things could have gone wrong that day.

Feeling as if she was left with no alternative, Dawn had turned in her resignation and packed her office. Unfortunately, she had given little thought to what quitting her job as Templeton Gallery director would mean for her professionally and financially. She had been so filled with anger and indignation that she'd given little thought to
anything
that day. Thankfully, she had remembered Maddie's offer in December to take over the helm of Sawyer Gallery. She just prayed that Maddie's offer was still good and she hadn't given the gallery director position to anyone else.

If she has, I am
so
screwed,
Dawn thought.

“Well, I was wondering if you were still interested in having me at Sawyer Gallery,” Dawn finally said, making Maddie look taken aback.

“
Really?
You're considering leaving Templeton? But I thought you loved working there.”

“I do, but it's not the best situation for me anymore,” Dawn answered candidly.

“I see.” Maddie reached for a cup of espresso that sat on the coffee table between them. “Does Percy know you're leaving?”

“Yes, he knows. I've already given him my resignation.”

“I see. And how did Percy take the news?”

Dawn thought back to how Percy had responded when she told him she was quitting. He had thundered on the phone for a good fifteen minutes before declaring that she would “never work in this town again.”

“You'll be lucky to be working behind a counter taking orders for Happy Meals when I'm done with you!” he had bellowed before slamming down the phone.

“He didn't take it well,” Dawn now answered dryly.

Maddie chuckled. “I didn't think he would. Percy has”—she paused to take a sip of her espresso—“a bit of an ego. He doesn't seem like he would take rejection well.”

At the sound of Maddie's laughter, Dawn's tenseness eased a little. “Saying that Percy has ‘a bit of an ego' is like saying Antarctica is a little bit cold.”

“That is definitely true.
Definitely!
” Maddie laughed again before quickly becoming somber. “He's also bad at keeping things professional.”

“That he is.”

Maddie lowered her espresso cup back to the table. She gazed at Dawn again. “Forgive me for asking this, Dawn, but I'm sorry, I have to.”

Dawn steeled herself. She knew what question Maddie was about to ask.

“You said things were fine for you at the gallery, and now you've had a sudden change of heart. Knowing what I know about Percy and the . . . the rumors that I've heard, I—”

“He and I weren't sleeping together,” Dawn said bluntly, cutting her off. “He wanted to. He wasn't subtle about letting me know that he wanted to, but I don't mix business with pleasure—no matter what reputation I may have.”

Maddie lowered her eyes sheepishly. “I'm sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, it's all right.” Dawn tried her best to hide her bitterness. “This is a very image-conscious job and I'm sure you're aware of my image. But contrary to popular belief of some in our social circle, I took my job very seriously. I wouldn't jeopardize it by canoodling with the boss. Unfortunately, Percy didn't appreciate that. That's why I had to leave.”

“That's good to know. Because I respect your work and your talent, Dawn. It would be a shame to have a reason not to hire you, because I'd love to have you as my gallery director.”

Dawn broke into a grin. “Really?”

“
Of course!
Percy was an idiot to drive you away! But his loss will be my gain. You're hired!”

Maddie stood first and Dawn breathed a sigh of relief as she also stood from her chair. Now that the conversation was over, the tension in Dawn's body released instantly like a deflating balloon.

“I'm so happy that we'll be working together,” Maddie said.

“I am too!”

You have no idea how much,
she thought as she and Maddie shook hands.

Minutes later, Dawn walked down the brick steps of Maddie's home, feeling as if a massive weight had been lifted off her shoulders. As she walked toward her car, she heard the tinkling sound of her cell phone. She pulled it out of her leather purse and glanced at the number on her screen, expecting it to be one of her sisters. When she saw who it was, she smiled with surprise.

“Hey, Herb!” she said after pressing the “answer” button.

“Hi, sweetheart! How are you?”

“Good . . . great, actually!”

“Great? You sound like you're in a good mood.”

“I am!” She pressed the remote button to open her car door. “I just got a new job. I'm really excited.”

“A new job?”
He paused. “May I ask what was wrong with the old one?”

I was working for a lecherous asshole and I should have quit it a year ago
, she wanted to say, but answered instead, “Nothing. This is just a better situation for me.”

“Well, I-I wish I knew you were looking. I don't have too many contacts in the art world, but I could have made a few phone calls and—”

“Thanks but no thanks, Herb. That's not how I roll,” she said as she juggled her phone and her purse and climbed behind her steering wheel. She shut the car door behind her. “Besides, I didn't need any help. I can find a job on my own.”

“Yes, you can. I know you can. I just . . . I just would like to help you whenever
I
can. It would make me feel good to help you.”

“You're sweet, but again, it isn't necessary.”

And it wasn't just the fact that she was too proud to accept Herb's help that would have made her turn down his offer to find her a job. She would hate to hear what Xavier would say if he found out that Herb had pulled strings to get her a position at another gallery. Xavier already seemed to think the worst of her.

The sanctimonious jerk,
she thought angrily.

She didn't want him to think yet again that she was out to use Herb.

“Well, then,” her father said, “the least I can do is help you celebrate! What are you doing this afternoon?”

She had just put her key into the ignition. She paused. “This afternoon? You mean
today?
”

“Yes,
today!
” He laughed. “I can meet you at five-thirty if that works for you. I can meet you in Georgetown at your favorite tea shop,” he said. “The raspberry scones will be my treat.”

“How can I resist? I'll see you then.”

 

Dawn walked into Big Ben's tea shop, still smiling. She spotted her father instantly at a small bistro table on the other side of the room. It was the same table where they had sat at on their first “date.” He was also overdressed again—this time in a tan suit jacket and charcoal slacks. She could even see that he was wearing gold cuff links. Behind him was a table of Georgetown University students in Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirts and sweaters and wrinkled jeans, leaning over their laptops as they drank from coffee mugs. He looked like he could have been one of their professors.

“Well, well,” she said as she strode across the shop toward him. “Who is this handsome man sitting all alone?”

Herb grinned, grabbed his bamboo cane, and slowly rose to his feet. “Why, I was only waiting for a lovely lady to join me.” He leaned forward and kissed on her on the cheek, making her giggle. He patted the back of the chair beside him. “Now have a seat and tell me about this new job of yours.”

For the next half hour Dawn told him about Madison and the new gallery. She glossed over the more embarrassing details regarding her last days as gallery director at Templeton, choosing to avoid the discussion about the groping incident. Her father seemed genuinely happy for her.

“But enough about me,” she finally said, after taking a sip of white tea. “What have you been up to?”

“Not much,” her father confessed. “Allen Enterprises is thankfully a ship that pretty much steers itself, with little or no intervention from me. Most of my days now are filled with listening to Constance and Raquel go on and on about wedding preparations.” He rolled his eyes and laughed. “I must confess that I don't find conversations about stationery and ribbons quite that fascinating. Thankfully, they've recently started to talk about Xavier's birthday, which is tomorrow. But you know that already. He told me you're coming to his party.”

At the mention of Xavier's name, Dawn's smile faded. “Actually, I don't think I'll be able to make it,” she replied before finishing her scone.

Herb frowned. “
Really?
Why not?”

“Something came up,” she lied, brushing away the crumbs from the napkin on her lap. She waved her hand dismissively. “Besides, I doubt I'll be missed. I bet he only invited me because I'm a relative now. Just wish him a happy birthday for me. You guys have fun.”

“Xavier will certainly miss you if you don't come to his party, sweetheart. He didn't just invite you because he only sees you as family now. He's very fond of you.”

Dawn cocked an eyebrow as she raised her teacup to her lips. “Frankly, sometimes it's hard to tell, Herb.”

“But he does!” Herb chuckled before sampling his cookie. “In fact, he's so fond of you that I was starting to wonder if ol' Xavier was a little smitten with you.”

Dawn had to stop herself from spitting out her tea. Her heart seemed to skid to a halt. She stared at her father in disbelief. “You've got to be joking!”

“I said I was only starting to wonder,” he quickly corrected himself. “But then I remembered that he's been crazy about Constance since he was a teenager.”

Exactly,
Dawn thought, though she was a little crestfallen.

Herb leaned forward. “He
does
like you, though, Dawn, even if it isn't in a romantic way.”

She lowered her teacup back to the table. “Guys like him don't like women like me, Herb.”

He squinted. “Women like you?”

“Yes, women like me. You know what I mean.”

When he continued to look at her with an expression that conveyed confusion, she blurted out, “Gold diggers.”

Her father looked offended by that word. He opened his mouth as if to disagree with her, but she stopped him before he could.

“I know the truth. Like I said, guys like him—serious to the point of anal-retentive, self-righteous, almost austere in how they live their lives—they see us as trouble. They're wary of us.” She shrugged. “It's a small-minded world. I'm used to being judged that way.”

Herb gazed at her in silence for several seconds. “And you don't think you're being small-minded by judging Xavier?”

“What do you mean?”

His face became stern. “ ‘Guys like him,' as you say—anal-retentive, self-righteous, austere—it seems that you've painted Xavier into a little box too. You're also stereotyping him.”

“I wasn't stereotyping him! I was just . . . just . . .” She sighed helplessly. “Look, I'm sorry if what I said offended you.”

And she was sorry, not for how she felt, but for saying her thoughts aloud. She had allowed her frustration with Xavier to make her way too candid. She should have known better than to bad-mouth him in front of Herb. He was Xavier's friend and mentor, after all.

“You didn't offend me. I just don't think your judgment of Xavier is very fair. Do you know why he comes off as so anal-retentive and self-righteous?”

“Bad programming at the robot factory?” When he didn't laugh at her flippant remark, she shook her head. “Sorry. Bad joke,” she said softly, feeling contrite.