Naked Hope (4 page)

Circular stone steps led down from the wall and were lined with wildflowers. Jill recognized the yellow creeping jenny, white yarrow, and what looked like purple marsh thistle interspersed with ferns, strawberry bushes and red poppy. Two giant weeping willows towered and tilted toward each other as if guarding the pond.

Gavin steered the BMW into a large private drive. He sprinted from the car in a fluid motion and placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the stone steps. The heat of his fingers made her skin tingle. As he leaned forward to open the front door, his chest brushed against the back of her shoulder, liquefying her bones like the smoky amber of his scent. Inside the expansive foyer, they encountered a well-dressed butler who wore a deferential smile.

“Good afternoon, maestro,” he greeted in a clipped British accent.

“Baines, this is Dr. Cole. Has my mother arrived home?” He turned to Jill. “I’d like you to meet her first before spending time with Olivia. She’s the one family member who won’t give you any trouble.”

His smile curled her toes.

“Madam is out at the moment,” Baines replied with quiet dignity. “She expects to return in time for a late lunch with you and Dr. Cole.”

“And Olivia,” Jill added. After all, that was the whole point of her being there.

“Thank you, Baines. Where is Liv?” Gavin asked.

A benevolent expression crept across Baines’ face rubbing smooth his crisp formality. “Miss Olivia is in the sun room.”

“Please ask her to join us in the library.”

“Actually, I’d prefer we go to Olivia. The sun room sounds perfect.” As Jill anticipated, Gavin looked as though he might object.

Baines cleared his throat, crisp formality restored. “Excuse me, sir. I was about to mention your agent is in the library.”

“Adrienne’s here?”

“Yes. She’s been waiting most of the morning. I informed her that you might be awhile but she insisted on waiting.”

Gavin tensed. “Did you tell her anything else?”

Baines glanced at Jill. “Just that you were expected back for a late lunch.”

Gavin nodded. “Very good.” He turned to Jill. “You’ll excuse me. Adrienne isn’t in the habit of showing up unexpectedly without a good reason. Baines will show you to the sun room. I’ll join you when I can.” With long strides, he left the room.

But Olivia was not in the sun room.

Baines gave her a perfunctory bow and exited with the promise that he would return with Olivia.

Left to her own devices, Jill wandered through the extraordinary sun room with burnished wood flooring, a vaulted ceiling, massive skylights, and a storybook window seat. Wide French doors allowed easy access to the gardens. Jill took in the sofa, love seat, several chairs including a rocking chair, all of bleached rattan with colorful cushions and pillows in complementing shades of violet, pink, green and yellow. Several tea tables were graced with cut flowers. Leafy green plants in pots, buckets, pedestal vases and crocks sprouted throughout the room boasting a healthy sheen. She clapped her hand over her mouth as two or three birds of various colors and origin flew overhead, each singing its own vibrant song.

Outside, the garden spilled across the yard, bordered by a white picket fence. A path led from the garden through an arbor into the woods, where it dropped out of sight.

“I
said,
who are you?” the rebellious little voice repeated.

The sound broke into Jill's observations. Startled, she whirled in the direction of the voice toward a lanky long-limbed girl with brown hair, several shades lighter than Gavin's, and badly in need of a good brushing. From this distance, Jill couldn’t make out her eye color but didn’t miss the freckles trailing up and down Olivia’s arms, and over her face, popping red with indignation. “My name is Jillian Cole, but you can call me Jill. Will you tell me yours?”

Olivia frowned and pointed. “You have funny shoes.”

Jill looked down at her sandals, and smiled. High heels on a cork platform might indeed look funny to a ten-year old. Olivia spoke in the staccato-like stabbing manner Jill had seen earlier in the video clip. She wondered if Olivia changed the subject because she couldn’t accomplish a linear conversation, or because she was her father’s daughter, and liked to set her own terms. Jill pointed. “And you don’t have any.”

“Do you like this room?” Olivia stretched her arms in an authoritative sweep.

The child is so like her father, granting me permission to notice the unusual surroundings.
“I like it very much. Do
you
like the room?”

“Of course. It's my room!”

“And where is your favorite place to sit?” she asked the little autocrat softly.

“Over there.” Olivia pointed in the direction of a bench swing.

“May I sit there?”

Olivia’s face twitched into a series of frowns and grimaces. “You have to take them off.” She pointed down at her own bare feet.

Jill slipped out of her sandals and wiggled her eyebrows. “Now, will you tell me who you are?”

Olivia shrugged and pointed to Jill’s sandals. “Can I try them on?”

“Perhaps. If you tell me who you are,” Jill repeated.

In a solemn voice, Olivia stated, “My name is Olivia Fairfield. And my mother is dead.”

Pleased to have found common ground so quickly, Jill responded, “Hello, Olivia. My mother is dead, too.”

Olivia's eyes widened.

Now Jill could see their color. They were gray blue—like her father's.

“She is? Really?”

“Yes. Now may I sit on the swing?”

“I'll sit with you.” She reached for Jill's hand, and led her over to the swing. After chatting for a moment or two, Olivia asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting.”

“Visiting who?” Olivia moved close and stared into Jill’s face. persisted.

Jill intentionally softened her gaze. “Why, right now I'm visiting you. And your father mentioned something about all of us having lunch.”

At the mention of her father, Olivia's eyes narrowed. “Are you my dad’s girlfriend?”

At the idea, Jill flushed. “No, Olivia.” She looked into the child's eyes as they changed from anger to ache. “He dropped by my office this morning and suggested I come for a visit.”

Olivia ducked her head.

Thick tangles of hair obscured Olivia’s face making it impossible for Jill to predict Olivia's next mood. Jill observed her hunched shoulders and silent legs which had been swinging so vigorously a moment before.

With a muffled sob, Olivia whispered, “My dad hates me.”

Jill averted her eyes and blinked rapidly to cover her surprise at Olivia’s passionate declaration.

“He hates me!” Olivia repeated.

“
What?
”

Jill swung her head in time to see shock register on the faces of Gavin and his mother.

Gavin dropped his gaze and jammed his hands deep into his pockets. “I see you’ve met my daughter,” he spoke through stiff lips. “This is my mother, Edith. She’ll see to whatever you need. I have work in the library.” His gaze glanced off her shoulder as he turned and quit the room.

“Olivia, honey, is there room for me on that swing, too?” Edith asked.

Olivia dropped her head. Tangled brown hair obscured her face once more.

Edith sat on the other side of Olivia and stroked the hair away from the girl’s face.

She flung herself into her grandmother’s arms.

Over Olivia’s head, the older woman said, “We chose a bad time to show up, didn’t we? Things are very difficult right now, and there’s so much pressure on them both.”

Jill looked deeply into Edith’s expressive eyes so like her son's. Not a beautiful woman, but possessed of a graceful countenance, a dignified figure, and soft laugh lines around her mouth. Edith glanced down at Olivia, whose left foot kicked at the floor. Half a dozen shadings played those eyes until love, the kind only a grandmother can offer, settled in their depths.

“Thank you for coming,” Edith added.

Baines appeared in the sun room to announce lunch.

Olivia leaped off the swing and pounced on him, capturing his big hand in both of hers. “Mr. Baines, this is Jillian Cole, and her mother is dead, too!”

“How unfortunate,” Baines murmured.

****

Edith led Jill down the hall to a wide stone terrace that swept the entire south side of the house, overlooking the river. A wrought iron table, beautifully set, waited with four place settings. Edith frowned and straightened one of the place settings. “Please sit wherever you’d like. I’ll go and see what’s keeping Gavin and Olivia. Have some iced tea while you wait, dear. It’s one of cook’s specialties.” She disappeared back inside the house.

The sun had long past burned off the cooler morning air. Jill took a sip of the iced tea from a fragile yet elegant tumbler. Laced with raspberries, the effect was a blend of both tangy and sweet. The ice melted from the afternoon heat and moisture ran in rivulets down the outside of her glass.
This family is like these tea tumblers
.
Self-contained and proud, yet could shatter at any moment
.

She reached into her briefcase, powered up her tablet, and typed,
Gavin MIA since our arrival. I’ve been abandoned on the terrace going on ten minutes. They’re escape artists, always disappearing through one door or another.

Questions:

1. Is G’s commitment strong enough? His focus on O shifted to career(?) something else(?) when he learned his agent was waiting for him.

2. G’s body telegraphs guilt when he talks about his daughter’s condition. What does he have to feel guilty about?

3. Is J a nurturer or does she enable G & O to their detriment?

4. Does O really believe her father hates her, or was her outburst merely an expression of frustrated aggression?

Major concern: can G learn to accept O’s limitations and help her develop new creative outlets?

Observation: intuition tells me this family has secrets.

Edith reappeared.

Jill flipped the cover closed.

An apology fanned across Edith’s face. “My son says he’ll be a few minutes yet, and Olivia is adamant about not coming to lunch. Poor thing, she has a tummy ache. I suggested a nap but she refused. Best to give her a little time, I think.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Tell me, if she has an upset stomach, shouldn’t she be in bed?”

Edith’s brows puckered, emphasizing deep worry lines.

“I think I understand.” Jill placed her napkin on the table and stood. “We’ll accomplish so much more today if Olivia joins us. Would you mind if I give it a try? Is she still in the sun room?”

Edith shook her head. “She’s in the playhouse. Baines will show you.”

Jill found Olivia bent over a miniature piano in the playhouse, playing the same two notes over and over.

She glanced up then continued, her face creased into a frown that grew deeper each time she struck a key.

Jill sat beside the girl. “What are you playing?”

“Nothing,” Olivia finally answered.

“No? Well, since you’re not doing anything, I was hoping you’d join us for lunch.”

Olivia gave the piano a shove. “I can’t play anything on this silly toy. I have my own piano. A real one.”

Jill watched Olivia’s jaw tick like her father’s until her entire body vibrated.

“I can play a real piano.” She hesitated then gave the toy piano another shove. “But not anymore.”

Jill sighed as the fire in Olivia’s eyes died. Her stomach rumbled.

Olivia’s eyes widened and she giggled. “You’re hungry!”

Pleased to see her quick recovery, Jill smiled. “I am. Aren’t you?”

The little girl muttered, “Maybe.”

“Your grandmother said the cook made chicken salad. I like chicken salad.”

Olivia’s eyes brightened. “You do?” Her eyes clouded and she bent her head. “I think I like it, too. Sometimes I don’t remember.”

“How about if we find out? Lunch is on the terrace.”

“Is my dad there?”

“He should be by now.”

“He’s mad at me.” Olivia picked at her jeans.

“Oh? Why do you think that?” Jill asked, noting the stress between father and daughter.

Olivia ducked her head, but said nothing.

Jill fought the urge to stroke Olivia’s back. “I don’t think your father is angry with you.”

“Oh, he is.” Olivia’s eyes were grave.

“How about this?” Jill suggested, getting to her feet. “Your house is so big, I don’t think I can find my way back to the terrace. Would you take me?” Her stomach rumbled again.

Olivia took her hand. “It
is
big.”

They arrived just as Baines finished setting a fifth place at the table.

Gavin held a chair for his agent and glanced at Jill. “Ah, there you are, and with my daughter I see. Very good. Adrienne and I haven't finished our work, but we can take a few minutes to stop for lunch.”

Adrienne smiled up at him. “Thank you, darling.”

Edith caught Jill’s gaze. “I’ve insisted there be no talk of business at the table.”

Gavin stirred. His gaze shot between Adrienne and his mother. His mouth tightened, but said nothing.

Edith turned back to Jill. “These two will talk contracts, scheduling, music choice, publicity—you name it—endlessly. Since you’re our guest, I prefer we enjoy ourselves and keep our luncheon discussion away from business matters.”

“No talk of business. What a welcome change!” Adrienne’s green eyes glittered over Jill as she placed her hand on Gavin’s. “He can be such a beast.”

So, this is Gavin's agent.
Green eyes, red hair, expensive clothing, everything about her implied intimacy with Gavin.

Baines appeared in the doorway. “Miss Olivia, we have yet to wash your hands. If you would be so good as to come with me, please.”

Olivia hopped off her chair and pattered over to the butler, taking his large hand in hers.

Adrienne adjusted her napkin across her lap. “It never ceases to amaze me what a fabulous view you have here, Edith. Why, I think you’ve got a better view than the governor. Wouldn’t you agree Miss—ah—Miss, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Jillian Cole. Call me Jill,” she said, unwilling to stoop to Adrienne’s tactics and flaunt her credentials.