For the Love of You (6 page)

Jewel tried hard to ignore the demoralizing commentary. But the sit-down dinner where she was surrounded by self-declared connoisseurs of art who worked hard at maintaining polite conversation that pointedly didn't include the exhibit, was the longest night of her life, with the only highlight being that Simon did arrive and was by her side during the interminable meal.

There were points when she wanted to run out and break down and cry, but she knew she had to keep up the front of confidence.

The silence was so heavy on the ride back to her hotel that it made her head pound. Simon offered to spend the night, and for the first time since they'd been a couple she turned him down. She needed to be alone and didn't want him to be around when she read the reviews in the morning. The fact that her father was a witness to her embarrassment was enough.

* * *

She sat opposite Mai the following morning looking at one review after another that eviscerated her work. Every outlet from the venerable
New York Times
to
New York
magazine,
Art and Culture
,
Contemporary Art Review
and every blog and newspaper in between were, uncharacteristically, in agreement—the exhibit was an epic failure. Even the international press had a field day at her expense. One critic went so far as to intimate that Jewel Fontaine's star had finally fallen.

“Jewel... I am so sorry. I don't know what to say.”

Jewel lifted the coffee mug to her lips and took a sip. “There's nothing to say. It's all here,” she said, pushing the papers aside. She glanced off into the distance.

“You know how critics are. They wouldn't be critics if they didn't have something to disparage. It will pass. All of the great artists were blasted by detractors that didn't understand what the artist was trying to convey.”

“Not like this.” She huffed. “Some of these reviews are almost personal.”

“But you can't take it personally.”

“I know you're trying to make me feel better, Mai. You're wasting your time.” Jewel pushed away from the table and stood. “I'm going to get dressed, pack my bags, meet my father and go back home.”

“The flight is at one.”

“Hmm. Thanks.”

The trip back home with her father was the second and ultimate blow.

For the prior six months Jewel had been traveling, studying and immersing herself in the production for her show at the Guggenheim. She kept in contact with her father by phone. They spoke at least once per week. The small lapses in the conversation, the long pauses between one idea and the next, and often the disassociation with whatever it was that they were discussing she tossed off as her father, much like herself, being preoccupied. When she saw him for the first time in six months, he physically looked the same, but there was often a vacancy in his eyes and a faraway tone in his voice. This she attributed to the travel, exhaustion and the excitement of the evening. The plane ride, however, was the most devastating experience of her life.

One moment her father seemed perfectly fine. Then he began referring to Jewel by her mother's name—Estelle—and by degrees he became more and more agitated and seemingly disoriented, not understanding why he was on a plane or where he was going. Jewel was terrified, and his agitation grew to a point where the flight attendants had to intervene. Fortunately they were only twenty minutes out of Louisiana and Jewel was able to calm him without him being restrained. By the time they landed, he seemed to be himself again, but exhausted, as if the lapse had been as much physical as mental.

The diagnosis was what every child fears for their parent—early-onset Alzheimer's disease. Whatever idea Jewel might have had about returning to New York or going back to Europe came to a grinding halt. Her father couldn't be left alone, especially in that enormous house. The doctors prescribed the latest in medication that was touted to slow the disease but not stop it. For a while the medication seemed to work, and then it didn't. They tried combination after combination, with the same result—“You should put him a facility where he can be cared for.” For Jewel that was not an option.

Augustus Fontaine was her dad. The man who had been her rock for the better part of her life. Now it was her turn to be there for him.

For a while she tried to paint, to sculpt, but her father needed her more and more. Maybe it was some macabre blessing in disguise, she often thought. After the debacle of her showing at the Guggenheim, no one was beating down her door. She'd lost her mojo, and there seemed to be nowhere in her day or in her life for her to reclaim it. Instead, she turned all of her time and attention to caring for her father, until it became too much for her to handle alone. She hired Minerva.

That had been a little more than two years ago. The disease had plateaued and remained at the same stage for quite some time. She supposed that was a good thing, and she'd fully accepted the turn that her life had taken. But the hard reality of her father's care had done major damage to her bank account, and without the income from sales of her work, tours and speaking engagements, there was not much to replenish it with.

And then came Craig Lawson.

“Need any help with those?” Minerva walked into the kitchen and settled on the opposite side of the counter.

“I'm almost done. Thanks. How's Dad?”

“Fine. He had a good day. And might I ask about yours?”

Jewel tucked in a grin and busied herself with stacking the boxes. “Well...it was very nice.”

“How nice?” she probed.

Jewel pushed out a breath. “Nice enough that I might do it again...if he asks.”

Minerva's light brown eyes widened. She clapped her hands in delight. “Hallelujah, and let the choir say amen!”

Jewel couldn't help but laugh. “Gee whiz, Minerva, it's not that bad.”

“Oh, yes, it is. When was the last time you went out...with a man?” There was a long pause. “Exactly. And it don't hurt that he's drop-dead gorgeous and wealthy.”

“That's all very true, but you are getting way ahead of what is going on. He lives between London and California. He has the kind of life that I have been out of for quite some time. Even if there was something going on between us—which there isn't—there would be no way to make it work,” she added dismissively, even as she replayed the way his mouth felt on hers, the way he tasted and the way she wanted more. “It's just two adults in a business arrangement that somewhat enjoy each other's company.”

“Hmm,” Minerva murmured with a rise in her brow. “If you say so.” She started for the archway that led to the dining room. “I have to run into town to pick up a few things. I should be back in an hour or so. Do you need anything?”

“No. I'm good. I'm going to sit with Dad for a while.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

Jewel plopped down on the stool and gazed off into the distance, trying to paint a portrait of what her life might look like with a man like Craig Lawson in it. But then she looked at the stack of bakery boxes and her eyes lifted to the floor above where her father slept. She pushed back from her seat and stood. This was her life.

* * *

Throughout the meeting with his team, Craig struggled with keeping focused on the items at hand. His thoughts continually shifted between topics of discussion and kissing Jewel Fontaine. He was pretty sure that was a bad move on his part. He had a long history of getting involved with people he worked with, Milan Chase being a prime example. He didn't want his somewhat jaded history to repeat itself with Jewel, but the truth of the matter was that, as inappropriate as it might be, he wanted to see her again. He wanted to take her to his bed and strip her naked. He needed to see and feel for himself if her skin was as silken as it looked. Did that lovely scent that drifted around her find its way beneath those gauzy dresses she wore? What would it feel like to be sheathed inside her? The merry-go-round of his questions was endless. He was immensely happy when the meeting came to an end.

“We can start preliminary shooting next week. Exteriors,” Diane was saying as Craig pushed back from the table.

“Get the full schedule printed up and sent to everyone's tablets,” Craig instructed her and Paul. “Norm, you can get some stills as well for the storyboards.”

“No problem, boss,” Norm, the technical director, said.

Craig checked his watch. He had time to shower and change before meeting up with his sister. He crossed over to Anthony before he headed to his room. “As soon as the revised contract is ready, let me know. I'll drop it off and get it signed.”

Anthony shot him a sidelong look. “Not a problem.”

He walked over to the minibar and poured himself a short glass of bourbon. “I'm gonna get ready to meet up with Alyse. I need all the fortitude I can get.” He tossed the warm liquid down in one swallow, shut his eyes briefly against the burn then set the glass down. He clapped Anthony on the back. “Thanks for holding it down, man.”

“We got this,” he said with a grin.

Craig turned away and lifted his hand in salute.

He changed into a black cotton shirt and black slacks, slid his phone, credit card and room key into his pocket, and headed down to the lobby to meet his sister.

He was seated in one of the lounge chairs checking out the day's headlines when Alyse pushed through the revolving door. She didn't see him at first, and it gave Craig the opportunity to take in and appreciate the attractive and self-assured woman his little sister had become. His heart filled with warmth and good memories, which at the same time partnered with sadness that he could have allowed his rift with his father to keep him away from his sister. He stood just as she turned her head in his direction.

Her arms stretched wide, and her dimpled smile beamed as she literally ran to him. Craig swept her up in a hug, pressing her face to his chest. She locked her arms around his waist and craned her neck to look up at him.

“God, it's so good to see you,” she said as tears formed in her eyes. She sniffed hard and stroked his strong jaw. “Those pictures are much better looking than you, though,” she teased, deadpan.

Craig tossed his head back and laughed. It
would
be his little sister that had no problem giving him a reality check to remind him that he wasn't all that special. He pressed his palm to his chest. “You wound me. No respect for your elders.” He grinned down at her. “It's good to see you, too, sis,” he said with affection.

“Point me to the drinks and food and let's get this reunion started.”

“We can go someplace else if you want,” he offered.

“No, why bother? We're already here.”

“Sounds good to me.” Craig bent his arm and she slid hers through before leading her into the hotel's bar and restaurant.

* * *

Alyse had barely taken a breath once they were seated before she launched into her barrage of questions.

“So how long are you in town for and why didn't you tell anyone that you were coming?” She reached for her glass of water.

Craig leaned back in his seat. “About two months if everything goes according to schedule. And I know I should have called you and Myles.” He paused. “I'm sorry.”

“You should be. We haven't seen you in God knows how long,” she groused. She shot him a glare. “I read that Milan is the lead.” Her brow arched. “Ulterior motive?”

He pushed out a breath. Alyse was one of the few people other than Anthony who had told him from the start that getting involved with Milan Chase was a mistake. At the time he didn't care. They were hot for each other and they let it burn until there was nothing left but ashes.

“I don't have an ulterior motive,
and
,” he qualified, “there is nothing going on now. She happened to be the best person for the role.”

“Hmm.” She rolled her eyes. “Just be careful, that's all I have to say about it. But speaking about your notorious love life, who are you seeing these days?”

His thought immediately leaped to Jewel. But he couldn't truthfully count her as someone he was seeing. Besides, the minute he let Alyse know that Jewel was the owner of the location where the film was to be shot, he would never hear the end of it. “You'll be happy—or at least surprised—to know that I'm not seeing anyone. I'm totally focused on this film.”

“What are you plans when it's completed?” she asked with a hint of hesitation mixed with an unspoken plea.

Craig linked his long fingers together and shrugged slightly. “When it's done I'll head back to LA, to the studio for editing, then home to London. I have a television pilot that I'm contracted to work on in the fall.”

Her long lashes lowered over her eyes. “Oh,” she said softly.

“But I promise to stay in touch.”

The waitress came to take their drink and dinner order. Once she was gone, Alyse continued her inquisition.

“Is it true that the movie is about our family?”

Craig rocked his jaw. “Let's just say that the Lawson legacy is the inspiration for the film.”

“Does Dad know?” She stared across at him.

“I have no idea what he knows. I'm sure he doesn't care one way or the other what I do,” he snapped, his expression hardening by degrees.

“You don't believe that.”

“Why wouldn't I? He made himself very clear, Alyse. And if nothing else, I take Jake Lawson at his word.”

The last confrontation with his father still stung all these years later. As the eldest son, it was expected that he would follow in his father's footsteps and one day take over the helm of JL International. Craig had had his sights set elsewhere. Since he was a kid he'd been fascinated by the wonder and magic of film. He would watch his mother prepare for her small film roles, and sometimes she would let him come on set. His mother nurtured his thirst for the arts, his father starved him. Things only grew worse between him and his father after the scandal and his mother's tragic death. When Craig entered college, his goal was to major in film as much for himself as well as homage to his mother. His father went ballistic and refused to cover the cost unless he switched his major to international business, which he claimed to do to satisfy his father. But unknown to Jake, Craig stayed on the film track. Instead of his college graduation being a day of celebration, it was an epic nightmare when Craig's degree was an MFA in film instead of an MBA in international business.