Makin' Miracles (22 page)

She stepped away from Spencer, her eyes hard now. “There was always a sexual chemistry between Bowden and I. And Bowden liked competing against you to win me.” She smiled at some secret thought. “I admit it was one reason I led you on, to keep that competition going with him. I was always playing both of you, almost from the first.”

Zola saw Spencer's eyes widen, heard his quick intake of breath.

Geneva shrugged, pushing her row of bracelets up her arm. “Quite frankly, Spencer, I kept you in my pocket—not sure Bowden would ever come up to scratch.” She smiled again, tapping his chest with a long nail. “You see, I wanted to get into the Jackson family and their network. I knew my floral business would flourish there—and I wanted in. Jackson's was the most prestigious photography studio in Richmond, the family name good, and your mother and your little sister had brought so much to it with their catering skills . . . expanded it. Made it even better. I knew it was the perfect spot for my floral business to fit in. My mother's small business was nothing compared to what I knew we could have if we merged with the Jackson Studio.”

She walked over to prop her foot on a wrought-iron bench, leaning over to adjust a vivid red high-heeled sandal, and exposing a long length of her leg in the process. “I could never understand why you wanted to go off and study away from Jackson's. The business just reeked of prestige and money. Your Grandfather Stettler married into the Winthrops—and then inherited that gorgeous old Winthrop mansion downtown for the business. That was a shrewd move on his part. I always heard that little Sylvia Winthrop, who Stettler first married, was a bit of a drip. But your Grandfather was ambitious, too.”

Geneva paced thoughtfully. “The Winthrops were soft, sweet, good people. I see some of that in your father, and I saw it in you. It worried me. But Bowden. He's just like his Grandfather, and more like me, too. We're interested in going somewhere. We're interested in money.”

She brushed back her short blond hair. “That's everything, you know, Spencer, having money and prestige. Look around you tonight. This is the way I wanted to live. I wasn't certain you wanted to go in the same direction. Oh, I could probably have persuaded you. But it was easier linking up with Bowden. We're so much alike.”

She walked over to run a hand freely down Spencer's chest again. “Bowden gives me a free rein in most all areas—and I do him. You might not have felt comfortable about that.”

Zola saw Spencer tense.

Geneva didn't seem to notice. “It was always in my favor that your grandfather liked me, too. Good ole Stettler.” She laughed. “He knew I'd be good for the business and the family. I think he worried, too, that you might not come up to snuff. You know, he caught Bowden and me together one time on a sofa in the office, while you and I were still engaged—and the old guy seemed delighted.”

She moved up closer to Spencer again. “You didn't have to stay away so long just because I married Bowden. We could have continued to have fun, too, if we were discreet. We can now.”

She dropped her hand down Spencer's chest to his belt and tucked her fingers inside it. “I could meet you somewhere later.”

“I doubt that will happen, Geneva, but you hold that thought in your mind if you like.” He patted her on the bottom and then turned and walked back toward the ballroom.

Geneva stood there for a moment watching him, and then she pivoted and followed another pathway to a side door further down the courtyard.

Zola stood quietly behind the pillar, still stunned at what she'd heard.

She heard someone clear a throat behind her and jerked around, expecting it to be Spencer. Expecting to be caught eavesdropping. To her surprise, it was Spencer's father.

He gave her a soft look. “Maybe now, you'll see why Spencer's mother and I felt a little relieved when Geneva decided on Bowden instead of Spencer. I think she'd have broken Spencer . . . or at least hurt him. She never really loved him, you know, and Spencer needed that in a woman.”

“Why didn't you tell him?”

Gordon Jackson shrugged. “He wouldn't have believed me. Especially with Bowden being involved.” A sad look came into his eyes.

Zola studied him, seeing more than she should have about Gordon Jackson in that moment. “How can you stand being in this family, Mr. Jackson? Living out this part allotted to you?”

Unsurprised at her questions, he answered, “I was the only son. There was no one to run Jackson Studio except for me. In many ways, I love it. I love photography, and I like capturing the happiness of people at significant events in their lives. I'm not very good at the business end, but my father is. Bowden is, too. Their skills in that area free me to do what I love most—take pictures.”

He propped a foot on a low brick wall beside the greenery. “I thought once I might like to photograph wildlife or be a biology teacher. But it was foolish for me to walk away from the studio I also loved. Sometimes I wonder if Spencer might have come back to work in the business if all this with Geneva hadn't happened. If he might have found happiness here, too.”

Zola thought about this. “No . . . I think he had another destiny, Mr. Jackson, and found that destiny. I've heard him talk about it, about how much nature photography called to him and how much he loves the life he's chosen. I've watched him work, too. He's wonderful at what he does, Mr. Jackson. Do you know that?”

“Of course.” He seemed surprised at her question—and almost annoyed. “We have all his books in our home. His mother and I have a scrapbook of his accomplishments we've kept. Some of his photography hangs in my study and Marion has some in her sitting room. We are proud of him, Zola. We just hated for him to go so far away. You'll understand one day when you have children of your own.”

Zola looked toward the door Geneva used to slip back into the ballroom. “Doesn't it trouble you to have Geneva for a daughter-in-law for your son Bowden?”

He shrugged. “She and Bowden are a good match. I'm not sure how deep their love is, but they respect each other. They're both gifted, social, and ambitious. They make a good pair and they are very good for the Jackson Studio.”

Zola made no comment to that. Being good for the business was such an important factor to all the Jacksons. Except to Spencer. Zola's heart felt a wrench of pain for all she'd heard Geneva tell him tonight. It had to have hurt.

Her eyes traveled to the door Spencer had walked through. She wondered where he was and what he was doing.

“I think I'd better go back in now.” Zola put a hand on the older man's arm. “It would be nice if you shared with Spencer some of the thoughts you shared with me tonight, Mr. Jackson. Spencer never understood why you and his mother seemed so callous about his breakup with Geneva.”

He nodded. “I'll try to do that before he leaves. Perhaps it is the right time to talk about it with him now.”

Zola bit her tongue. Or perhaps it was twelve years past time, she thought with a flash of anger. Obviously, all of them knew Geneva had been unfaithful to Spencer long before he even left home. And they all knew Geneva's affection for Spencer had been feigned. They should have at least tried to warn him.

She felt like slamming the glass door behind her simply thinking about it.

Inside the ballroom, she found Spencer searching for her, carrying her light wrap and purse. “I think I'd like to leave now, Zola. I've said our good-byes.”

Zola nodded and tucked her arm in his, wishing she had the right words to say to comfort him.

S
pencer let himself into the house after a morning of shooting photographs near an overgrown, abandoned farm. He liked the photos he'd taken of ivy and morning glories, sprawling with abandon over an old shed, and of the fine shot he'd snagged of a big hornet's nest hanging from a tree by the barn. He even liked the countless photos of rats he'd taken by an abandoned farmhouse. Spencer hid in a blind, out of sight, and watched the rats work their way in and out of the maze of burrows they'd built under the porch, endlessly gnawing and eating, their little jaws working feverishly.

Noticing Zeke wagging his tail like a flag in welcome, Spencer squatted down to give the dog some quality attention. “You'd have liked to chase all those rats around I found today, Zeke.”

Spencer scratched the dog behind the ears in his favorite spot.

Noticing Zeke's big incisors made him recall an odd fact about rats. “You know, Zeke, I read if rats don't keep chewing on things to wear down their teeth, their incisors will grow right through their skulls. They'll even gnaw cement or brick. I've watched them do it.”

The shepherd pricked up his ears intelligently as if he understood every word. Putting a leash on the dog, Spencer took him out for a walk. He'd been gone all morning, and he knew Zeke was ready for some exercise.

When he came back, he found Aston sitting on the porch.

“I haven't seen much of you lately,” Aston said.

“I've been working.” Spencer clipped off the leash, telling Zeke that he could prowl around the porch within sight. The dog knew his parameters.

Spencer sat down in a rocker beside Aston's and propped his feet on the rail.

“You've been brooding.” Aston gave him a candid look. “I thought that trip to Richmond would do you some good, help you get past old problems and anger. Set you free to move on.”

Spencer scowled. “Well, it opened a whole new panorama of facts I learned my family hid from me. They let me spend years pining over a woman not worth mourning over.”

“So are you going to continue pining?” Aston took a long drink from the canned cola he'd brought with him.

Spencer bristled defensively. “It's not that easy, Aston. It takes a while to get things worked out.”

Aston drank his cola, waiting for Spencer to add more.

“My family all knew, Aston, and they didn't tell me,” Spencer blurted out, clenching his fists. “My father talked to me about it before I left. He said he and my mother knew, even before I left for college, that Geneva was playing both Bowden and I on a string, sleeping with Bowden behind my back while we were engaged. My grandfather caught them once and he didn't even tell me. In fact, Geneva said he seemed delighted they were involved.”

“And?”

“It makes me mad, that's what.” Spencer kicked at the rail. “My father said he and my mother hoped my going away would help resolve everything, that I'd get over Geneva while away from her. He told me they were actually relieved when Bowden came to them to announce he and Geneva had decided to marry. They thought Geneva and Bowden better suited and more alike.”

Aston stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing one ankle over the other. “Sounds like they were right, from everything you've told me.”

“Maybe, but none of them told me!” Spencer bit out the words, his anger rising just talking about it. “They all knew Geneva was sleeping around on me with Bowden and none of them ever told me.”

Spencer got up to pace around the porch. “Even Bowden came to me before I left. Said he felt glad I knew now about he and Geneva. He claimed that's why he tried to tell me all those years ago that it was for the best she broke the engagement to marry him. He knew Geneva had only been using me to get to him. It made me feel like a total fool, Aston—having all of them tell me that stuff.”

Aston shook his head. “You need to let this go, Spencer. You should see now that Geneva was not the woman for you, even if your family knew it before you did. You need to realize it's a blessing you didn't marry the woman. She obviously didn't love you. She'd have made your life a misery.”

Spencer punched a fist into his hand. “That doesn't make all of this mess any easier to swallow.”

“It should.” Aston shrugged.

“Well, it doesn't!” Spencer practically hollered. “It makes me even more angry. They let me believe lies for twelve years—and never even tried to tell me the truth.”

Aston's brown eyes looked over at Spencer with candor. “You have to take some responsibility in this. You never went home to learn the truth until now. That part is
your
fault, Spencer.”

“Well, thanks a lot for the understanding, Aston.” Spencer's tone was sarcastic, and he walked over to the porch rail, turning his back on Aston.

Unperturbed, Aston replied, “I'm only trying to help you get things into perspective. Whatever happened in the past is over, Spencer. You can't go back, but you can go forward. And you need to do that. You've been up here brooding on this for two weeks since you got home from Richmond. That's long enough. Clark and I need you down at the gallery to sign some papers and to help us make some joint decisions. I came up here today to get you since you don't seem to be answering your phone calls these days.”

“I told you I've been working.” Spencer knew his excuse sounded lame. He had been avoiding his friends—and the gallery—since he got back.

Aston stood up. “You wanna ride down with me?”

“No. I need to grab a bite to eat and put my gear away.” Spencer looked at his watch. “I'll be down in an hour.”

Aston checked the time on his own watch. “I'll expect you.”

Spencer remembered his manners as Aston started to leave. “By the way, congratulations again on your wedding plans, man. Carole is a good woman.”

Aston and Carole had gotten engaged while Spencer and Zola were in Richmond and planned to marry in only a few weeks.

“Yes, sir, Carole is a good woman.” Aston flashed a white smile at Spencer. “You know, I talked her into not waiting until Christmas for the wedding, like she wanted to, promised her I'd take her to the beach at Savannah if we got married sooner. A friend of mine owns a house there we're going to stay in for our honeymoon. I told her July was the only time we could use it.”

Spencer scratched his chin. “And is that true?”

Aston grinned. “Not quite. But it's true that those weeks after our wedding date are the only time we can use the beach house this summer.”

Spencer laughed.

“There's no reason to wait after you've found the right woman.” Aston gave Spencer a pointed look.

Spencer's laugh faded. “I think Zola's and my relationship is our own business.”

“Your relationship with Zola is in jeopardy of dwindling away to nothing for your neglect of her.” Aston started off the porch. “Maybe you can go over and take her out to dinner when she gets off work today. I know she was in the shop doing inventory when I left, even though it's supposed to be her day off.”

Spencer walked over to the porch rail to look out over the mountain. “We've had a couple of fights,” he admitted. “And I'm not happy over this mess with Madame Renee that's going on.”

“There you are, thinking about yourself again, man.” Aston walked back up on the porch to stand beside Spencer. “How do you think all of this is making Zola feel? Do you think she's been thrilled to come home and find that Renee Dupres has been spreading stories all over town that Ben Lee's daughter is alive and well—and being held captive? She claims she saw it in her crystal ball that someone kidnapped Ben's daughter and is keeping her prisoner against her will.”

Aston ran a hand impatiently over his head. “So much pressure has come on Police Chief Bill Magee that he's had to reopen the case and start combing the countryside looking for Seng Ryon Chen again. It's a mess.”

“I agree with that,” Spencer added with annoyance. “And Zola had to go and tell a newspaper reporter she didn't think Renee Dupres was right in her assumptions, that she didn't get a witness Seng Ryon was in the area, or that she had been kidnapped.”

Spencer kicked at the porch rail. “So now the paper has the two of them back and forth in the news like rival soothsayers!”

“I agree the press has had a royal field day with this.” Aston shook his head. “You can imagine Ben Lee desperately wants to believe Renee Dupres. He wants to believe his daughter might still be alive.”

“Well, it's all like a big soap-opera scandal.” Spencer crossed his arms in irritation. “It embarrasses me to be a part of it.”

Aston raised his eyebrows. “I see.”

“No, you
don't
see.” Spencer crossed the porch, pacing in irritation. “You're marrying a normal woman—not some weird seer that's always getting herself in the newspaper!”

Aston walked over to put his face into Spencer's. “Listen, man. I love Zola Devon enough to resent a comment like that about her.”

“And you think I don't?” Spencer pushed his way out of Aston's face. “I'm worried sick about her, Aston. Worried about all this publicity and about all these people calling her, coming into her store, stopping her on the street to ask her questions. I'm also concerned about Ben Lee literally avoiding Zola now, angry at her for suggesting to him that he shouldn't get his hopes up. I just wish sometimes Zola could keep her mouth shut, Aston. If she thought Seng Ryon Chen wasn't kidnapped or being held captive, she didn't have to say so, did she?”

“Zola's honest. She says what she thinks is right and true.” Aston cocked his head. “Would you like her to lie?”

“No.” He hit his hand on the back of the rocker. “I only wish she'd be more discreet. She doesn't always have to say everything she knows. Especially in a volatile situation like this!”

“Have you told her that?” Aston asked.

“I have.” Spencer lifted his chin. “It's one of the things we fought over.”

“And the other thing?”

Spencer considered not answering that, but realized Aston would learn the answer from Carole, or from one of the women at Zola's shop, if he didn't reply.

He turned to look at Aston. “Zola tends to agree with you that I've been brooding too long over my family. She doesn't understand why I'm not relieved to learn the truth about everything. She doesn't see why I can't simply be happy now and let the past be the past. Zola is of the belief that happiness is something you can turn off and on—like hot or cold water.”

“Perhaps she's right.” Aston raised an eyebrow.

“And perhaps she's not.” Spencer bit out his answer in annoyance.

Aston glanced at his watch again. “I need to get back to the store. And we've used ten more minutes of your hour. So you'd better go clean up and get a bite to eat.”

After arriving at the gallery, Spencer walked around the store looking at some of the new photos Aston had chosen to hang. He felt pleased as he studied them. At least the turmoil of his emotions wasn't affecting his work.

“You've been doing good work lately.” Aston walked up to stand beside him.

“Yeah. Well, at least something in my life is consistent.”

Aston clapped him on the back. “Zola Devon could be consistent in your life if you'd let her.”

Spencer purposely didn't answer him.

Aston started toward the back of the store. “I'll get Clark and we'll talk over our business out here, in case someone comes in the gallery.”

An hour later, business aside, Spencer sat on the wall beside the fountain in the Mountain Laurel Village Mall. He was trying to collect his thoughts before he went into Nature's Corner to see Zola. He wondered if Aston was right that he'd been neglecting Zola, if he hadn't been there for her when she needed him.

An exotic dark-haired woman let herself out of Zola's store, slamming the door behind her. Spencer found himself oddly fascinated with her gypsy dress and the way she'd painted her red lipstick around the outside of her lips as well as on them. You didn't see that often. Her hair was dyed as black as coal and wrapped up in some kind of scarf.

She looked up, saw Spencer, and headed toward him, shaking her finger. “I've told her and I'll tell you—I want Zola Devon to stay out of my business!”

Spencer must have looked confused because the woman pulled herself up straight and lifted her chin. “I am Madame Renee Dupres. I have a special inherent gifting for predicting the future and I help people with their lives.” She waved her hand in a flourish. “I'm sure you've heard of me. People in this area have come to me for twenty years with their problems.”

“I don't believe we've met.” Spencer held out a hand. “I'm Spencer Jackson.” He wasn't sure what else to say.

She placed her hands on her hips and leaned over until her face was nearly even with Spencer's. “I know well enough who you are. And you'd be wise to well consider whether you want to continue a relationship with Zola Devon. She's a woman with a confused gift.”

Spencer felt an uncomfortable prickle down his spine.

The dark-haired woman smiled at him candidly, sensing his discomfort. “I'm not a woman you should make angry, Spencer Jackson. I will be keeping you in my thoughts. You be warned.”

She swept away then before Spencer could form an answer.

He watched her walk away and then got up and went into Zola's store. Maya and Zola were both at the counter, but no customers were in the shop at the moment.