The Best of Friends (4 page)

She crossed to the antique buffet and opened the door on the right. “Scotch?” she asked, holding up the bottle.

“Sure.”

She collected three glasses, then poured. After handing David his, she crossed to one of the sofas and took a seat.

This room was one of her favorites. Open and large, yet elegant, it had taken her nearly a year to get it right. But now everything was perfect. From the custom-mixed pale sage paint to the Italian silk she’d chosen for the draperies. Blaine had complained about the five-hundred-dollar-a-yard fabric, but she’d ignored him. Quality mattered. She wasn’t about to have any of their friends talking about their cutting corners.

“So you’re back,” she said, then took a sip. “You said you were moving to L.A. Is that true?”

“Yes.” He settled across from her. “I’m going to buy a house and settle here permanently.”

While she wanted to believe him, he’d been living out of a suitcase for years. “You’ve never wanted to have a home base before.”

“Dad and I have been talking about it for a couple of years. I can do more for the business in the office. I’m ready to take on the responsibility.”

He sounded so serious and mature, she thought, telling herself to focus on what was good and would make her happy rather than on the fact that David and his father were annoyingly close. Blaine had ridiculous ideas about things that didn’t matter and a total disregard for one’s place in society. He was the most frustrating man. The last thing she wanted was his influencing David when her son had
finally
returned to the fold, so to speak.

“I know several excellent real estate agents,” she said. “Have you picked an area? My schedule is fairly full, but I can move a few things around and go with you. No man should buy a house on his own.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. I promise not to buy any building that used to house a circus. Now, if I could find a former bordello, that would be interesting.”

“Oh, David.”

She knew he said those things just to upset her, but he could be so maddening.

“The luggage is upstairs,” Blaine said, walking into the living room. “David. You made it.”

David stood and approached his father. The two men greeted each other with a backslapping hug.

They were both tall—an inch over six feet—with thick hair and blue eyes. Blaine’s hair had gone gray, which actually looked just as handsome as the blond. Elizabeth knew her friends envied her perfect family. They thought she had it all. If only that were true.

She took another sip of the scotch and waited as the greeting continued with a stupidly complicated series of hand gestures and slaps.

“I poured you a drink,” Elizabeth told her husband.

“Excellent.” Blaine grabbed it and sat on a second sofa with David. “You think you can handle living in one place all the time? You ready for real life?”

“I’m ready to know where I am when I wake up in the morning.”

“Good. Good. What did you bring me?”

Elizabeth sighed. “You’re not going to talk business now, are you? It’s late, and we’re all exhausted.”

David grinned. “I won’t say a word except I found another designer.”

“As good as Rivalsa?” she asked. “Those designs are excellent.”

“Close,” David said. “I’ll show you in the morning.”

“You said Jayne was here when you arrived,” Elizabeth said, more to keep them from talking business than because she was interested.

“Yes. It was a greeting full of pomp, but not so much on the circumstance.”

“She’s a sensible girl. Smart.” Loyal, which Elizabeth valued more than intelligence. Jayne could always be counted on to do the right thing. She eyed her son. “If you won’t take me house hunting with you, then at least take Jayne.” Jayne would keep him from buying something horrid or inappropriate.

“You’re buying a house?” Blaine asked. “Not something a man should do on his own.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Doesn’t Jayne have a life?” David asked.

Elizabeth dismissed the idea with a flick of her fingers. “She has a job, but I’m sure she can rearrange her schedule. I’ll call her.” The best part of David’s taking Jayne along was that Elizabeth would know everything he was doing.

“I can call her,” David said slowly. “You’ll be busy, getting settled.”

So true. Running this house was a massive responsibility. There was also the matter of letting everyone know David was home.

“I want to host a welcome-back party,” she said. “Nothing huge or formal. A brunch.”

He shifted on the sofa. “Mother, that’s not really my thing.”

“Yes, I know. It’s mine, which is why I’ll take care of it. Come on, David. Let us show you off to our friends. Blaine, don’t you want everyone to see how your son turned out?”

Blaine smiled. “Of course. As long as there are a lot of pretty girls for him.”

“What would a party be without pretty girls?” Elizabeth had been working on a list of appropriate women ever since David had said he was returning to Los Angeles. If she could just get him married to one of them and get her pregnant with her first grandchild, she would be able to relax.

“I can get my own girl,” David said.

“Your mother has excellent taste,” Blaine reminded him. “You might want to let her cull the herd, so to speak. It will save you time.”

“I like the culling process.”

“You’re thirty-two,” Elizabeth said. “It’s time to settle down. If you don’t get married in the next couple of years, people are going to think there’s something wrong with you.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” David mumbled, then nodded slowly. “I’m back to make changes, start working your end of the business, Dad. Buy a house, get a wife. Or is it get a house and buy a wife? I could always go on the Internet. Have someone sent next-day air.”

“Oh, David.” Elizabeth sighed.

Blaine grinned and clinked glasses with his son.

Men, Elizabeth thought grimly. Without a firm, controlling hand, they could muck up everything.

By eight the next morning, Jayne was exhausted. Despite her best efforts in Rebecca’s airy guest room, she hadn’t been able to sleep. The painkillers had only taken the edge off the throbbing. Every time she’d nearly drifted off, a new and uncomfortable twinge had jerked her back to consciousness. She was groggy, achy, and desperate to be back in her own place. Which meant waiting for Rebecca to wake up. Usually not a problem, although Jayne was desperate to be home sooner rather than later. She thought about calling a cab, but doubted she would be able to sneak out.

She walked into the living room and was surprised to find Rebecca standing in front of the sliding-glass doors leading to the balcony. It was another perfect L.A. day—clear, with blue skies and an endless view of the ocean. Rebecca wore a short nightshirt that was probably silk. The masculine tailoring suited her elegant beauty. Even mussed from sleep, wearing no makeup, Rebecca would stop traffic.

Ordinary people had no idea what life was like for the truly beautiful. How the world catered to them and shifted to make things more convenient. Jayne had been friends with Rebecca long enough to see how different things were. She’d been on plenty of shopping trips where clerks came running and nearly trampled her in their desire to be close to Rebecca. She’d had waiters pour water down her front rather than in her glass because they were so mesmerized by a smile or a glance from her friend. She’d watched men walk into walls, doors, and cars.

Rebecca turned. “You’re up. Did you sleep at all?”

“No. You?”

“I fell asleep on the sofa. Sorry. I wanted to stay up and keep you company, but I guess the jet lag got me.”

“I appreciate the effort.”

“Did I snore?”

“Even if you had, you would have been elegant.”

Rebecca laughed and pointed to the kitchen. “I made coffee. Oh, and there are those nasty frozen pastry things you like.” She shuddered.

Jayne crossed to the kitchen and opened the freezer. There was a box of toaster pastries—blueberry with extra icing. She laughed. “You sure you don’t want one?”

“Positive.”

Jayne put one in the toaster Rebecca had left out on the counter, then poured herself coffee. As she sipped it, she leaned against the counter.

Jayne had first met Rebecca on the second day of her sophomore year of high school. Jayne’s mother had taken a job as a housekeeper to a very wealthy family living close to the Wordens. The job came with a steady paycheck, benefits, and a small cottage at the rear of the property. After years of living in cheap motels and sometimes in shelters, the accommodations had been like a palace. Jayne’s mother had found the work easy enough, and while Jayne appreciated not having to worry about things like having money for meals and being able to go to the same school, she’d dreaded having to deal with über-rich teenagers.

Complicating the situation were her clothes. Elizabeth Worden had donated three boxes of barely used clothes her daughter no longer wanted. Even Jayne had heard of the Wordens and their fancy jewelry stores. She had a feeling their daughter would be happy to inform the entire school that Jayne was wearing her castoffs. Not that she had any choice. There weren’t other clothes to be had.

So Jayne had braced herself for taunts and ridicule. But when she’d come face-to-face with Rebecca Worden, the beautiful seventeen-year-old had only wrinkled her nose and said, “Thank God that skirt looks good on you. It looked hideous on me.” Then Rebecca had invited Jayne to sit with her at lunch.

The previous year of partying and stealing her friends’ boyfriends had come back to haunt Rebecca. The Worden princess had not only been forced to repeat her junior year, she’d found herself ostracized from her popular girl clique. Both alone and not able to fit in, they’d become friends, awkwardly at first, since they had little in common. Then Rebecca had discovered that beneath her quiet exterior, Jayne was funny and smart. Jayne figured out there was a heart behind Rebecca’s perfect facade. They discovered they both loved gossip magazines and thought math was just as easy for girls as for boys. Jayne had talked Rebecca down during her frequent rants about her mother, and Rebecca had shown Jayne that every family had its problems.

“It’s Elizabeth’s loss,” she said now, watching as Rebecca sat at the glass-topped dining table.

Rebecca shrugged. “Fuck her and the horse she rode in on. What do you want to do today?”

“Go home. I have to talk to my boss, and go fill out paperwork explaining why I’m on disability for the next few weeks. You probably have a million things to do. Why don’t I call a cab so you don’t have to bother?”

Rebecca stared at her. “What? This is L.A. Do we even have cabs? Don’t be silly. I’ll drive you.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Just give me a second to get dressed.” She twirled in her nightshirt. “Unless you think I can wear this and convince everyone it’s the next big thing.”

“If anyone can, it’s you.”

Rebecca laughed.

Fifteen minutes later they were in the car, Jayne wishing she’d taken a pain pill instead of waiting until she got home. It was early—before seven—and they were in the thick of rush hour. Even so, they made good time, and Jayne found herself digging for her condo key a mere forty minutes later.

She found it and opened the door. Rebecca followed her inside.

“Do you have food?” her friend asked. “Should I have a grocery store deliver?”

“I’m fine,” Jayne said, sinking onto the sofa and closing her eyes. “Plenty of food. I just want to sleep.” Assuming the pain backed off enough that she could.

“I could get you a latte,” Rebecca said, sounding doubtful. “Except you probably don’t want coffee, right?”

Jayne shook her head, then forced her eyes open. Rebecca would need direction. Gently telling her to take off would give her friend permission to start her own day and leave Jayne blissfully alone.

“You don’t have to—” she began, only to stop when someone knocked on the open door. She glanced up and saw Katie stepping into her condo. Her friend from the breast center carried two grocery bags.

“I called and said I was coming in a couple of hours late,” Katie told Jayne. “I wanted to check on you.” Katie looked at Rebecca. “Hi, I’m Katie. I work with Jayne.”

Rebecca glanced between them. “I’m Rebecca.”

“Right.” Katie’s smile was easy, but Jayne caught her interested study of Rebecca’s fabulously cut and colored hair, of her amazing designer jeans, Italian sandals, and a silk sweater that probably cost as much as a used car.

“Jayne’s told me about you,” Katie continued, walking into the kitchen and setting down the bags. “All great stuff. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Rebecca said, but sounded doubtful. “You’re a nurse, too?”

“Uh-huh.”

Katie returned to Jayne’s side and touched her forehead, as if checking for a fever, then placed Jayne’s uninjured wrist in her hand and took her pulse.

“I’m fine,” Jayne muttered.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Katie told her. “Did you sleep?”

“I tried.”

“Tonight will be better. I brought you food. Plenty of crackers and soup, a couple of premade sandwiches. You’ve got to keep food in your stomach if you want to keep down your painkillers.”

“I know.”

“Ginger cookies. They help the tummy. Popsicles.” Katie smiled at Rebecca again. “We do digital imaging at the center, but we also work with cancer patients. Trust me, no one knows better than a chemo patient how to keep food down.”

Rebecca looked both uncomfortable and nauseous. “Good to know,” she said weakly. “So you’re going to stay with Jayne?”

“For a couple of hours.”

“I see. Then I should go. Let you two…” She waved vaguely. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Are you okay?” Jayne asked.

Rebecca nodded, but she looked oddly lost. Jayne wanted to reassure her but didn’t know what to say. Did Rebecca think she was Jayne’s only friend? That while she was out of the country, living large in Italy, Jayne sat home alone, waiting desperately for her return?

Obviously yes, Jayne thought, too tired and sore to deal with the problem right now. Later, she thought, as Rebecca left.