Now and Forever (3 page)

She looked up at him again and smiled.

"Just wait till I get you home, Mrs. Clarke."

"Lech."

"Yep. And you love it."

"Yes. I do."

People were watching them, but they didn't notice. They gave people something pretty to look at, something to smile at, to feel good about, to wish for. And something to enjoy as well. They were two beautiful people who had it all. That usually aroused an interesting medley of emotions in those who watched them.

They walked to the garage to reclaim the Morgan and Jessie grinned with pride when she saw it.

"Christ, it looks good. What did you do to it?"

"Have it washed. You should try it sometime. You'll love the effect."

"Oh, shut up." She swung at him playfully, and he ducked, catching her arm as she laughed.

"Before you beat me up, Amazon, get in the car." He slapped her on the behind and unlocked the door.

"Don't call me an Amazon, you miserable creep! Masher!"

"Masher? Did I hear you call me a masher?" He looked shocked and walked back to where she stood. "Lady, how dare you call me a name like that?" And with that he swung her off her feet and slid her onto the seat of the car. "There. And let me tell you, with a broad your size, that's no mean feat!"

"Ian, you're a shit." But he knew she wasn't sensitive about her height. They both liked it. "Besides, I think I'm shrinking."

"Oh? Down to six-one now, are you?" He chuckled as he finished strapping her bag to the luggage rack in the back. He still had the top down on the car, and she was watching him with a smile.

"Go to hell. You know perfectly well I'm only five-eleven, but I measured myself the other day and I was only five-ten-and-a-half."

"You must have been sitting down."

He slid in beside her and turned to look into her eyes. "Hello, Mrs. Clarke. Welcome home."

"Hello, my love. It's so good to be back." They shared a long smile as he started the car, and she shrugged out of the new coat and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse. "Was it hot here today? It still feels warm now."

"It was boiling and gorgeous and sunny. And if it's anything like that tomorrow, you can call the boutique and tell them you're snowed in in Chicago. We're going to the beach."

"Snowed in, in September? You're crazy. And, darling, I really can't." But she liked the idea and he knew it.

"Oh, yes you can. I'll kidnap you if I have to."

"Maybe I could go in late."

"Now you've got the idea." He smiled victoriously as he pulled the choke.

"Was it really that nice today?"

"Nicer. And it would have been better yet if you had been home. I got crocked at lunch at Enrico's, and I didn't know what to do with myself all day."

"I'm sure you found something." But there was no malice in her tone, and no expression on his face.

"Nah. Nothing much."

"Jessie, you are without a doubt the most beautiful woman I know."

"It's entirely mutual." She lay on her stomach, smiling up at him, the scent of their bodies heavy in the air, their hair tousled. They had not been awake very long. Only long enough to make love.

"It can't be mutual, silly. I'm not a beautiful woman."

"No, but you're a magnificent man."

"And you are adorably corny. You must live with a writer." She smiled again and he ran a finger gently up her spine.

"You're going to get into trouble again, darling, if you do that." She accepted a puff on the cigarette they shared, and exhaled over his head before sitting up to kiss him again.

"What time are we going to the beach, Jessie, my love?"

"Who said we were going to the beach? Jesus, darling, I have to get to the shop. I've been gone for three weeks."

"So be gone for another day. You said you were going to the beach with me today." He looked faintly like a pouting boy.

"I did not."

"You most certainly did. Well, almost. I told you I'd kidnap you, and you seemed to like the idea." She laughed, running a hand through his hair. He was impossible. A great big boy. But such a beautiful boy. She could never resist him.

"You know something?"

"What?" He looked pleased as he gazed down into her face. She was beautiful in the morning.

"You're a pain in the ass, that's what. I have to work. How can I go to the beach?"

"Easy. You call the girls, tell them you can't come in till tomorrow, and off we go. Simple. How can you waste a day like this, for Chrissake?"

"By making a living."

Those were the comments he didn't like. They implied that he didn't make a living.

"How about if I go in this morning and cut the day short?"

"Yeah. And leave the boutique just as the fog comes in. Jessica, you're a party pooper. Yep. Party pooper. A--l." But she was already on her way to make coffee, and answered him over her shoulder as she walked naked into the kitchen.

"I promise I'll leave the shop by one. How's that?"

"Better than nothing. Christ, I love your ass. And you lost weight." She smiled and blew him a kiss.

"One o'clock, I promise. And we can have lunch here."

"Does that mean what I think it does?" He was smiling again and she nodded. "Then I'll pick you up at twelve-thirty."

"That's a deal."

Lady J nestled on the ground floor of a well-tended Victorian house just off Union Street. The house was painted yellow with white trim, and a small brass plaque on the door was engraved with LADY J. Jessie had had a broad picture window put in, and she did the window display herself twice a month. It was simple and effective, and as she pulled the Morgan into the driveway she looked up to see what they'd done with the display while she was gone. A brown tweed skirt, a camel-colored stock shirt, amber beads, a trim knit hat, and a little fox jacket draped over a green velvet chair. It looked pretty damn good, and it was the right look for fall ... though not for Indian summer. But that didn't matter. No one bought for Indian summer. They bought for fall.

The things she had ordered in New York flashed through her mind as she pulled her briefcase out of the car and ran up the few steps to their door. It was open; the girls had known she'd be in early.

"Well, look who's home! Zina! Jessie's back!" A tiny, fine-featured Oriental girl clapped her hands and jumped to her feet, running toward Jessie with a look of delight. "You look fantastic!" The two were a striking pair. Jessie's fair, lanky beauty was in sharp contrast to the Japanese girl's delicate grace. Her hair "was shiny and black and hung in a well-shaped slant from the nape of her neck toward the point of her chin.

"Kat! You cut your hair!" Jessie was momentarily taken aback. Only a month before the girl's hair had hung to her waist--when she hadn't worn it in a tight knot high on her head. Her name was Katsuko, which meant peace.

"I got sick of wearing it up. How do you like it?" She pirouetted swiftly on one foot and let her hair swing around her head as she smiled. She was dressed in black, as she often was, and it accented her litheness. It was her catlike grace that had given her the nickname Jessie used.

"I love it. Very chic." They smiled at each other and were rapidly interrupted by a war cry of glee.

"Hallelujah! You're home!" It was Zina. Auburn-haired, brown-eyed, sensual, and Southern. She was buxom where the other two were elegantly small-breasted, and she had a mouth that said she loved laughter and men. Her hair danced close to her head in a small halo of curls, and she had great, sexy legs. Men dissolved when she moved, and she loved to tease. "Did you see what Kat did to her hair?" She said "hair" as though it would go on forever. "I'd have cried for a year." She smiled, letting her mouth slide over the words. She made each one a caress. "How was New York?"

"Beautiful, wonderful, terrible, ugly, and hot. I had a ball. And wait till you see what I bought!"

"What kind of colors?" For a girl who almost always wore white or black, Kat had a flair for hot colors. She knew how to buy them, mix them, contrast them, blend them. Everything except wear them.

"It's all pastel, and it's so beautiful, you'll die." Jessica strutted the thick beige carpeting of Lady J. It felt good to be back in her domain. "Who did the window? It looks great."

"Zina." Kat was quick to single out her friend for praise. "Isn't that a nice touch with the green chair for contrast?"

"It's terrific. And I see nothing's changed around here. You two are still as tight as Siamese twins. Did we make any money while I was gone?" She sat in her favorite beige leather chair, a deep one that allowed her plenty of room for her legs. It was the chair men usually sat in while they waited.

"We made lots of money. For the first two weeks anyway. This week's been slow; the weather's been too good." Kat was quick with the report, and the last of it reminded Jessie that she had only four hours in which to work before Ian would come to spirit her away to the beach.

Zina handed her a cup of black coffee as she looked around. What she saw was the fall line she had bought, mostly in Europe, five months before, and against the beige and brown wools and leathers of the shop's subtle decor it showed up well. Two walls were mirrored and there was a jungle of plants in each corner. More greenery dripped from the ceiling, highlighted by subtle lighting.

"How's that Danish line doing?" The Danes had gone heavy on red--skirts, sweaters, three different styles of blazers, and a marvelous wrap-around coat in a deep cherry red that, in its own way, made a woman feel as exotic and sexy as fur would have. It was a great coat. Jessie had ordered one for herself.

"The Danish stuff is doing fine," Zina intervened with her New Orleans drawl. "How's Ian? We haven't seen him in weeks." He had turned up once to cash a check, the day after Jessie had left.

"He's working on the new book." Zina smiled warmly and nodded. She liked him. Kat was never as sure. She helped with the account books, so she knew how much of Jessica's profits he spent. But Zina had been in the shop much longer, and she had come to know Ian and appreciate him. Kat was newer, and still wore the brittle mantle of New York over her heart. She had been a sportswear buyer there until she'd tired of the pressure and decided to move to San Francisco. She had landed the job at Lady J within a week of her arrival, and she felt as lucky to be there as Jessie did having her in the shop. She knew the business. Totally.

The three women spent a half hour chatting over coffee while Katsuko showed Jessie some clippings of articles mentioning the boutique that had appeared in the papers. They had two new customers who had practically bought out the shop. And they talked easily of what Jessie had lined up for the fall. She wanted to set up a fashion show before she left for Carmel in October. Kat could get started on ideas for that.

The shop was alive with her presence, and together they made a powerful threesome. All three had something to offer. It showed in the fact that the boutique hadn't suffered while she'd been gone. She couldn't afford to have it do that, and she wouldn't have tolerated it, either. Both of the girls knew that, and they cherished their jobs. She paid well, they got marvelous clothes at a discount, and she was a reasonable woman to work for, which was rare. Kat had worked for three bitches in a row in New York, and Zina had escaped a long line of horny men who wanted her to type, take shorthand, and screw, not necessarily in that order. Jessica expected long hours and hard work, but she put in the same herself, and often more. She had made Lady J a success, and she expected them to help her maintain it. It wasn't a difficult task. She infused fresh life into it every season, and her clientele loved it. Lady J was as solid as a rock. Just like Jessica herself, and everything around her.

"And now, you two, I'd better dig through my mail. How bad is it?"

"Not too bad. Zina answered the dingy stuff. The letters from Texas from women who were here in March and wonder if the little yellow turtleneck is still on sale. That kind of stuff ... she answered them all."

"Zina, I love you."

"At your service." She swept a deep curtsy and the bright green halter she wore over white trousers bobbed with the weight of her breasts. But the other two had stopped teasing her long ago. Each was content with herself, and all three had good reason to be.

Jessie wandered into her small office three steps up in the back and looked around, pleased. Her plants were thriving, her mail was neatly divided and stacked, her bills had been paid. She saw at a glance that all was in order. Now all she had to do was sift through it. She was halfway through reading her mail when Zina appeared in the doorway, looking puzzled.

"There's a man here to see you, Jessie. He says it's urgent." She looked almost worried. He was not one of their usual customers, and he hadn't come there to buy.

"To see me? What about?"

"He didn't say. But he asked me to give you his card." Zina extended the small rectangle of stiff white paper, and Jessie looked into her eyes.

"Something wrong?" Zina shrugged ignorance and Jessie read the name: "William Houghton. Inspector. San Francisco Police." She didn't understand and looked back at Zina for clues. "Did anything happen while I was gone? Did we get robbed?" And Christ, wouldn't it be like them not to worry her at first, but wait and tell her an hour or two later!

"No, Jessie. Honest. Nothing happened. I don't have any idea what this is about." The drawl sounded childish when Zina was worried.

"Neither do I. Why don't your bring him in here? I'd better talk to him.

William Houghton appeared, following Zina with some interest. The fit of her white slacks over her trim hips was in sharp contrast to the fullness in her halter. The inspector looked hungry.

"Inspector Houghton?" Jessie stood to her full height, and Houghton seemed impressed. The three were an interesting group; Katsuko had not missed his thorough gaze either. "I'm Jessica Clarke."

"I'd like to speak to you alone for a minute, if that'll be all right."

"That's fine. May I offer you a cup of coffee?" The door closed behind Zina, and he shook his head as Jessie indicated a chair near her desk and then sat back down in her own. She swiveled to face him. "What can I do for you, Inspector? Miss Nelson said it was urgent."