Material Girl (47 page)

But while Evan was very good at what he did, he could also be terribly condescending. He spoke to her as if she was stupid, performed the same analysis she did without even looking at what she had done, and sent her expensive gifts for things so trivial as to be laughable (Good job with Lou on the phone yesterday!). Robin was beginning to realize that Evan didn't believe anyone was as smart as he was, with the possible exception of her father, and even that was debatable. It was bad enough she was struggling to understand the business, but Evan's constant disregard of her abilities was hurtful and confusing. There were times Robin was convinced she was an idiot, incapable of carrying the mantle of the family business. Still other times she mentally kicked herself for letting Evan's arrogance derail her— she could do this!

And to confuse matters, he kept bringing up the new vice

presidency in Dallas. “Sort of a super VP, in charge of acquisitions nationwide.”

Of course she was interested, notwithstanding her desire to be some place other than where Evan was. But still, the job sounded perfect on those days she wasn't assailed with doubts of her abilities. At the very heart of all her doubts was the increasing and monstrous desire to finish the acquisition, to hold that single accomplishment up to everyone around her and dare them to discount her now, to call her window dressing. In fact, it was so important to her that Jake's annoyance with the whole Evan thing was taking a toll on the extraordinary affection and love she felt for him. No matter how she tried to convince him that Evan wasn't interested in her, but rather, the deal, Jake would not believe it.

To be fair, in spite of the friction about her job, everything else about Jake was wonderful. Robin loved his company, thought him terribly sexy and handsome. He was a good man, an exciting lover. Still, Dad's ridiculous and unfair objections to Jake weighed heavily on Robin, and she remained cut off from her father because of it, waiting for Dad to make the first move toward an apology.

By the looks of things, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Mom had gone back to California, leaving the old man at Blue Cross. Even Rebecca had bailed after a week. When she called Robin to see if she was “still seeing Jake,” she said that Dad had become even harder to be around after Robin and Jake had left. “I just couldn't take it anymore. He had to go back to New York, anyway,” she reasoned, more for her own benefit than Robin's.

“He is going to die all alone, you know it?” Robin had said, tears welling. “But that's the way he wants it.”

“Don't say that, Robbie!” Rebecca had said angrily, and their frustration with one another and the way they each viewed their father hung between them, finally forcing them off the phone. That was the way with Dad. Every conversation with him or about him ended in hurt.

Well, for her part, Robin was prepared to show Dad he

was so wrong about her. She'd never take a dime of his money again, would show him that she was capable and worth a whole lot more than he ever gave her credit for. Hello.

And she was working so hard toward that end that she was taken a little off guard the morning Jake said he was through with her house, with the exception of the cleanup.

She had just hung up with Girt—things were looking really good for their purchase of Wirt, which made the old girl very happy, particularly since American Motorfreight had lowballed their offer. “Those assholes are trying to take advantage of David's situation,” she complained. Robin's thoughts were on that when Jake made his announcement. It startled her because she really hadn't thought of anything but this acquisition, and especially and very specifically had not thought about life after Jake and the work on the house. She instantly had a hard time imagining life without Jake and Zaney each day. Worse, she really didn't have the money to furnish it. What was she to do with this huge house? What was she to do with Jake, not to mention herself?

That night, they went to Jake's to grill steaks and share a bottle of wine, although neither of them was very talkative. Robin felt almost disembodied. It was as if some monumental milestone had been reached, but instead of celebrating, they were having a wake. She didn't care for the feeling at all and attempted to make small talk to avoid the sharp tension as she made a salad.

“What are you going to do next?” she asked Jake.

He crunched a piece of celery. “I have two jobs lined up. One is a garage apartment redo a couple of blocks over from your house. The other is adding on to servant's quarters in River Oaks.”

“Not Mia's, I hope,” Robin joked.

Jake couldn't muster more than a smile and merely shook his head. “What are you going to do next?”

“Me? Finish this acquisition,” Robin said and tossed a handful of chopped radishes into the bowl.

“Then what?”

Then what? Robin couldn't look at him, pretended to be chopping more radishes. “I guess you mean after the acquisition.”

“Well, you have to be finishing that soon, right? What will you do then?”

Wholly unprepared to answer, Robin forced a laugh. “Just keep working, I guess.”

“Where? In your house, or a new office?”

Jeez, what was this, twenty questions? She really didn't want to have this conversation right now. “I guess a new office is possible.” She tossed some dill weed in the bowl and steeled herself. “Maybe Dallas.”

Expressionless, Jake looked at her. It was almost as if he expected it. He put down his wineglass. “I better check on the steaks,” he said and walked outside.

Okay, so now she felt like the Wicked Witch of the West, t hank you. Well, shit, what was she supposed to do? Ignore all offers of gainful employment? Give up her career? Live on her good looks and charm?

She testily continued with the salad, tossing huge chunks of Raymond's killer tomatoes in the bowl. She heard Jake's cell phone ring, heard him talking. In a moment, he came back with the steaks and put them on the counter. “That was Cole. Tara broke up with him.”

“Oh no!” Robin exclaimed, her anger momentarily forgotten. “Why? Did she say why?”

“No. Just said she didn't want to go steady anymore. Who knows? Probably a bigger and better deal came along.” He turned away from Robin, rummaged through the pantry.

“Maybe it just wasn't working out,” she offered.

“And maybe she was just too wrapped up in herself.”

Robin stopped chopping, looked at Jake's back. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged.

“Am I imagining things? For some reason, I have the distinct impression you aren't talking about Tara.”

Jake slowly turned, tossed a package of buns onto the counter. “You're right. I'm not talking about Tara.”

“Then… are you talking about me?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded.

“Well, isn't that rich!” she said sharply, tossing down the knife. “Suddenly I am too wrapped up in myself?”

He picked up his wineglass, took a swig. “Well, now that you mention it—there doesn't seem to be any us with you. Dallas, Robin? Since when?”

“I don't know!” she exclaimed hotly. “Evan keeps telling me about a new vice presidency—”

“Oh fuck, now I get it—”

“No, you don't, you never get it! Just stop it, Jake! This insane jealousy—”

“Not jealousy, baby. I despise him.”

“Well, stop despising him—you really have no reason—”

“Like hell I don't. Anyway, that's not important. What's important is that we have to figure out where we are going, Robin. What are we doing? Anything? Or am I the only one in this? And why the hell are you thinking of going to Dallas?”

“Oh shit, please don't start this now,” she said wearily, turning back to the salad.

“Okay, not now? Then when? When do we decide what we are doing?”

“Why do we have to decide anything?” she cried to the ceiling.

“Because I love you and you are talking about moving to fucking Dallas!” he shouted. “We have been dancing around this ring of fire since we left your father's ranch!”

“Don't push me, Jake,” she warned.

“I don't push you, Robin, I never push you!” he said hotly. “Maybe that's what I'm doing wrong!”

She turned so quickly to dispute that ludicrous statement that she knocked the salad bowl to the linoleum. “Fuck it,” she muttered and went down on her knees.

Jake joined her, helping to pick up the lettuce and radish. They cleaned it up in cold silence; when Robin stood again, Jake caught her by the wrist. “Look,” he said, his voice much softer, “I love you. And I can't help that I want more.”

Robin bit her lip, looked down at the bowl of spoiled salad.

“I have an idea,” Jake was saying, brushing a curl from her temple. “Let's take Cole and go down the coast for a couple of days. Maybe do some fishing. But let's just get out of Houston and decide what we're doing. We owe that to ourselves at least, right?”

Yes, they owed it to each other. Jake's question was legitimate—it wasn't his fault that that she didn't know the answer. “Where?” she sniffed.

“I know where there are some nice fishing cabins down around Port A. We'll just go down there, turn off the phones, and talk about what we want to do.”

“Okay,” she murmured, nodding. “Okay. When?”

He shrugged. “Tomorrow afternoon? We can make a long weekend of it. I can finish up what I have left to do at your house in the morning, and then we'll go, okay?” he asked, gathering her in his arms, holding her tightly to him.

“Yeah,” she sighed and buried her face in his shoulder. “That would be okay.”

They finished preparing the meal in troubled silence.

The next day, as planned, Jake finished up the work on her house while Robin packed for the long weekend and made a call to Lucy, to tell her she'd be out of town for a few days.

“Oh yeah? Where to this time? London? Madrid?”

Robin laughed. “Port Aransas. I'm going fishing.”

“Fishing!” Lucy exclaimed. “You don't fish! You never fish!”

She never did anything before Jake came along. “I'm going to learn.”

Robin and Jake said good-bye to Zaney when he left early that afternoon, his destination, “to see a dude about a band, man.” Then Robin reviewed the alarm instructions with Grandpa for the hundredth time since buying the place, in case he felt the need to come over and check on things. Which he often did. But for what, exactly, he couldn't say. And finally, she paid Raymond, who gave her a dozen gargantuan tomatoes to take along to the coast.

They had just finished packing her car (the tomatoes pos-

ing a bit of a problem) when the phone rang. “T hank heavens, I'm glad I caught you,” Evan said breathlessly when Robin answered. “What is this about you going fishing?”

“I'm just getting away for a couple of days,” Robin said as Jake walked in the front door. Self-consciously, she pushed a curl behind her ear and turned away from him.

“Well, you need to postpone your little outing. We have to get to Minot right away.”

“Minot? Why?”

“Lou Harvey has a new twist we need to consider, one that may make this look a lot better than we originally thought. But American Motorfreight has already offered for Girt's outfit, so we need to wrap this up before she accepts.”

Robin laughed. “Girt's not going to accept their offer— they lowballed her.”

“Well, that's not what she told me this morning. Look, Robbie, I'm sorry to ruin your plans, but it is only Thursday, and most people work the whole week…”

“All right,” she said, sighing. “When do we leave?”

“First thing in the morning. Tell what's his name that we'll have you back in a couple of days, and he can bait your hook then.”

“Shut up, Evan,” she said.

“I'll pick you up at seven in the morning.” He hung up.

Robin clicked the phone off. She was aware of Jake standing somewhere behind her, could feel his gaze boring through her.

Slowly, she turned around.

With his arms crossed over his chest and his weight on one cocked hip, he stared at her, waiting.

Robin could feel his displeasure emanating across the room. “Umm… that was Evan. We have to go to Minot.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “It can't wait?”

“No.”

“You're certain.”

It was a statement, not a question, and it was clear that

even if Robin wasn't certain, he sure was. She sighed wearily. “Jake… it's my job.”

He clenched his jaw tighter, looked at the floor. “No, Robin, it's not your job. It's just that prick again. He doesn't want you to be with me.” He lifted his gaze. “Don't go. Call him back and tell him it will have to wait.”

She gave a little cry of indignant surprise. “You can't be serious! I am not going to call him back! I'm sorry, Jake, but this is my job! Besides, this little trip of ours was a last-minute thing—surely you can understand—”

“This little trip,” he repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought this little trip was important to us. I guess I really was the only one to understand that. But you know what? I'm tired of trying to understand. I'm done. We're done.”

“What?” she gasped, incredulous.

He dropped his hand from his neck. “It's obvious to me that you are not going to commit to us and in fact, you're going to work real hard to avoid it. Hey, no problem—I was the one who jumped off the high dive into this thing, not you. Oh well. Can't win 'em all.” He turned on his heel, started walking away.

“Wait, wait!” she cried. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I told you, Peanut—I'm done. You are now free to move about the country.”

Panic. Sharp, choking panic. He really meant it. He was really going to walk out her door. For good! “Is that it?” she shouted angrily. “You come into my house and make love to me, and now you are leaving? Just like that? You're fucking done?”

He stopped at the door, studied it for a moment. “No, not just like that.”

Hope trembled in her knees.

“There is one last thing—I wish you well.”

“What?” she asked, confused. “You what?”

He turned to her once more, his gaze desolate. "I wish you well. I can't offer you anything else, baby, so I wish you well. Don't you get it? I wish you big soft beds with