Tempting Eden (18 page)

“Eden.” He said and gave me a nod.

“Good to see you, young lady.” Maria said. She looked particularly fetching in a heather colored sweater dress with tall brown boots. Her hair hung in loose waves, dark punctuated by the shock of white. She was a babe at any age.

Maria gave me a strong hug as I squeaked out, “Glad you both could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Jack said. He took my hand in greeting once Maria released me. His palm was warm and sent little tingles up my arm. Looking into his eyes still made my stomach do the same flip it did the first moment I saw him.

“It looks just the same as I remember it, right down to this rug.” Maria inspected the Persian design beneath our feet.

I dropped Jack’s hand and turned to Maria. “I wanted to ask you about how you knew Georgian—”

“Maria?” My mother stood at the top of the stairs. She was tall and willowy, her back always straight and her chin in a permanent upward tilt. At least I’d thought it was permanent. Now, her mouth hung slightly open as she gaped at Maria.

I couldn’t hide the thrill of delight that shot through me to see her so taken aback. More than that, her reaction confirmed my suspicions about her long lost
friendship
with Maria.

Mother seemed to come back to herself and snapped her mouth shut before descending and greeting her guests. She wore a classic Jackie-O suit, intentionally too formal for our little dinner. Her hair was all white, a snowy bob that was beautiful in a way that only age could create. Her eyes lingered on Maria, who blushed a decidedly girlish shade of pale pink.

“It’s been too long, Georgiana.”

I could have sworn my mother’s eyes misted just the tiniest bit. “I thought it was you, but I couldn’t believe it for a moment. How long has it been?”

“Forty-two years.” Maria offered her hand.

When Mother reached out to take it, I saw her fingers trembling.

I exchanged a look with Jack. The women clasped hands for longer than socially acceptable, and far longer than Adele’s patience would endure. She snagged Jack’s arm and escorted him in gentlemanly fashion to the large dining room, all the while telling him what a hit her creative writing piece was. Mother, Maria, and I followed, though none of us said a word.

We took our seats around the grand old table that had room for twenty-four guests and could expand to accommodate quite a few more. The many chandeliers were cleaned every spring, each crystal taken down and washed by hand before being rehung. Paintings of the Rochester family lined the walls, each image seeking to outdo the last in terms of grandeur. I’d always thought the peacock and croquet portrait from 1923 was the most fabulous of them all, and Adele agreed, though Mother always referred to it as “gauche.”

Even with the paintings and glowing chandeliers, the room was immense—paneled walls and gleaming wood floors only heightened the sense of space. Mother always chose to use the most imposing room in the house to entertain visitors.

The ceiling was hand-painted over a century ago to mimic some of the most beautiful ceilings in Versailles. Sinners and saints, angels and devils, the passions, and the gods were all at play above our heads.

Rosa came in from the kitchen and greeted everyone, though her eyes lingered on Maria for a few beats longer than normal. Mother took her place at the head of the table. Adele and I sat to her right, and across from us were Maria and Jack. Rosa dropped a kiss on Adele’s head before filling her plate for her.

“Rosa, I’m a grown woman. I can make my own plate.” Adele glanced at Jack and back to Rosa with a “you’re embarrassing me in front of my fantasy boyfriend” look.

Rosa ignored her protestations and scooped some more vegetables. “You’re still my baby.”

Once everyone’s plate was full of prime rib, grit cakes, and roast vegetables, we dug in. The clatter of knives and forks ruled the room for a short while.

“So, Jack, you’re my daughter’s assistant?” Mother began, as if it was her job. The wrinkles around her eyes scrunched up as she concentrated on him. Her eyes were the same green as both mine and Adele’s, but somehow beadier. Maybe I was imagining that last part.

“Oh, here we go,” Adele muttered and speared her asparagus.

“I just want to get to know more about our guest. Is that so terrible, Adele?” Mother asked.

She spoke in her regular tone, but something was off. Her eyes kept going back to Maria, drawn there. Maria, on the other hand, made no show of hiding her open interest in Georgiana. She seemed just as drawn, but not intent on fighting it.

Jack wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Yes ma’am. Her assistant. That’s right.”

“Where did you go to school?” Mother cut a precise piece of meat before delicately placing it in her mouth.

Jack glanced at me. “Alabama.”

“And before that?”

“Jack’s from Birmingham.” Maria interjected before taking a long pull from her wine glass.

“Oh? What high school?”

“Cranham.”

Mother made a hmm noise, disapproval in the note. Cranham was one of the worst-performing schools in the city, not to mention the nation. “And when did you graduate?”

Jack put his knife and fork down, preparing for the worst. “I didn’t.”

Mother raised her eyebrows before sipping her wine. “And why didn’t you?”

I held my breath. Jack looked at ease, ready to tell the truth. I envied him at that moment. The truth meant something to him. It was immutable, the one thing all others were measured by. I, on the other hand, dealt in lies far more freely than the truth.

He looked at Adele, worry only then creasing his smooth brow. Of all the people in the room, he worried most about what my daughter thought of him. Something clicked inside me, and a warm cavalcade of emotions welled up. Desire, protectiveness, something stronger—they all swirled into a cocktail that made me almost giddy. I clutched my napkin under the table.

Jack took a deep breath and dove in. “When I was fif—”

“Georgie, did you ever go to Spain, like we talked about?” Maria cut through Jack’s truth and my mother’s inquisition. I could have kissed her. Wait,
Georgie
?

Mother faltered, her words lost as she turned to Maria. They exchanged a long look.

Mother folded her napkin and placed it beside her on the table. “I’m afraid I’m feeling somewhat poorly. I think I’ll retire for the evening.”

She rose, but before she could leave, Maria said, “It doesn’t have to be like this. Not anymore.”

Mother looked around the table, her gaze lingering on Adele and me, before continuing out the door. “I’m afraid it does.”

Adele glanced at me to interpret the situation for her, but I was just as in the dark as she was. I turned, instead, to Maria. She sighed and gazed up at the ceiling.

“Okay, am I the only one who’s confused right now?” Adele asked.

I pinched her leg under the table, and she gave me the dirtiest look she could muster.

“You know how Mother can be,” I said. “Let’s just finish dinner.”

Maria pushed back from the table and laid her napkin next to her plate. “I’m sorry. I don’t much feel like eating. Would you mind if I wandered around a bit?”

“Um, sure.”

“Thank you. Don’t worry about Georgie. Please enjoy your dinner.”

She didn’t seem particularly wandersome when she strode purposefully through the door after my mother.

The moment the door clicked shut, Adele and I spoke at the same time.

“What’s going on?”

“Jack, what was that?”

He held his hands up. “I have no idea, ladies. Ms. Temple has never talked to me about your mother. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“Rosa?” Adele asked. Smart girl. I never thought to ask Rosa, even though she knew everything there was to know about the Rochesters and then some. I was glad she always kept my secrets. But would she keep Mother’s?

The housekeeper dispensed with pretense and pulled up a chair next to Adele.

She gestured at Adele’s plate. “Just because I’m talking doesn’t mean you don’t have to eat.”

Jack, Adele, and I obeyed, though it was no burden to eat the delicious meal.

Rosa smiled at Jack. “I didn’t mean you. But you do need to eat. A large man like you? I bet you would eat everything I cooked and ask for seconds. Muy bueno.” Her Spanish accent thickened even more when talking about food and handsome men.

He took a large bite of vegetables, the non-verbal equivalent of “Fuck yeah, I would.”

“Que hombre!” Rosa fell silent, either getting her thoughts together or pausing for dramatic effect.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Adele said around a mouthful of food.

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling it now.” She took a deep breath, setting her scene. “I know Miss Maria. I recognized her from before, when your mother was young. She used to come to the house to visit a lot when they were teenagers. Sleepovers all the time. They were inseparable, always going on trips together, talking, reading, laughing. Everything, together.”

Jack and I exchanged a look.

“So, what happened?” Adele asked.

Rosa ran her age-spotted hand down the back of Adele’s head, stroking her hair. “Your grandmother met your grandfather.”

“So?”

“So, your great-grandparents made it very clear that the Rochester family needed an, how you say, advantageous marriage. So, the Fairfaxes would join the family, keep the Rochester name, and everything would be fixed. Very advantageous.”

Adele stopped chewing. “So like, for money, you mean?”

“Yes, for money. Your grandfather, Mr. Fairfax, was what the Rochester’s called ‘new money.’ His family made a fortune on iron mines or some such. He was a nice boy. Very polite. Good looking. But your Gramma didn’t take to him. Not at first, anyway. They weren’t simpatico together.”

When Adele’s face fell, Rosa hurriedly added, “You must remember I was young, too, at the time, so my memory may not be perfect.”

Nonsense, no one was sharper than Rosa. I knew most of the story, even the marrying for money part. But with the addition of what now appeared to be Mother’s long lost love to the mix, nothing was quite what it seemed.

“Anyway,” Rosa continued, “one night, the week before the wedding, we couldn’t find your grandmother anywhere. We searched the house, the grounds, the neighbors’, everywhere. She was gone.”

“She ran away?” Adele’s eyes lit up.

Rosa nodded. “She did. My Papi found her. He never told me where, but it was in town. And she was with Miss Maria. They were intending to travel far away together.”

“So they were like Thelma and Louise?” Adele asked.

Rosa looked at Adele kindly, the wrinkles that reflected her lifelong joys multiplying around her eyes, her mouth. “Something like that, mi corazon.”

My mother, running away with her lesbian lover?
What
? My head spun.

“So, Gramma’s a
rebel
?”

“Don’t be getting any ideas from this story,” I said.

“Oh, I’m not, Mom. Besides, who would I run away with?” She glanced to Jack.

He shook his head. “I had no idea about any of it.”

“Secrets, secrets, everything around here is all secrets. Seems to me everything would be better if there were no secrets.” Rosa turned toward me but I ignored her look. “Anyway, she returned home and married Ms. Rochester’s father. She seemed changed after she came back. She used to be like you, mi corazon. Smart, talked a lot, laughed a lot. But when she came back, and even long after she was married, and even after she had your mother, she wasn’t the same. She was colder, withdrawn. And I never saw Miss Maria again until tonight.”

“Do you think she’ll change back now? Since her friend is back?” Adele’s hopeful tone tugged at my heart.

“I don’t know.” Rosa’s gaze rose toward my mother’s room. “Hearts are like plants. Some go dormant when they don’t get sun or water. Some wither away to dust.”

“I hope hers is the first sort.”

“Yo tambien, mi corazon. Yo tambien.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

J
ACK

I
LEFT THE
R
OCHESTER
home in a somber mood that night. I couldn’t find Ms. Temple and assumed she found a way back home without me. Adele was enthralled with the story of a friendship lost but not forgotten, but something in Rosa’s words reminded me of darker times, of the world forcing a person to make choices that were far too big. I lay awake that night, wishing Eden was stretched out beside me instead of far away on her mountaintop.

The rest of the week flew by, plans, calls, and contracts stacking up as the clock ticked away on our allotted time to sell out the project.

By the time we pulled up in front of the metal and glass marvel on Saturday afternoon, Eden had already sold over half the building. The only unit that wasn’t getting any major interest was the top floor penthouse. It would be a tough sell, given the price tag, but Eden was certain a buyer would show up at the party.

We’d had a smooth flight down to the coast, Tom making his usual banter during the trip. He told some great stories about Top Gun school, but Eden was distracted. “Obsessed” might be more accurate. She was intensely focused on this project, though I supposed that’s how she moved up the ladder at Thornfield so quickly—setting them up and knocking them down.

The flight was quick, as was the drive to the soaring metal and glass structure of Belle Mar. The exterior was completely finished, slick and shining in the late afternoon light. Twelve stories of glitz where the wealthy could come to play. If the outside was any indication, the inside was going to be more luxurious than any high rise the Gulf Coast had ever seen.

We strode into the lobby, our driver on our heels, when all three of us came to a dead stop. It was nowhere near ready. The floor was laid, the walls were spackled, men were working on sanding and painting; otherwise, the room was a lifeless void of open air, no shape at all. Nothing was finished.