Petals on the Pillow (17 page)

Kendra laughed. “More like what was left of a fifth. But that doesn’t change what I’m trying to say.”

“You can’t honestly believe that Kelly has a drinking problem.” Harrison had yet to see Kelly drink more than a glass of wine at dinner. The idea that she was an alcoholic, secretly knocking back whiskey during the day struck him as ridiculous.

“No, of course not.” Kendra slipped her reading glasses back on and looked back down at her notepad.

“So what are you suggesting, Kendra?” Harrison asked, slightly irked by her coolness.

Kendra sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know that I’m sug
gesting anything in particular, Harrison. I’m merely pointing out what could be the beginnings of a pattern. None of what Janice did seemed all that out of the ordinary at first, and even if you looked at each individual incident, none of it was that crazy. It was when you put it all together in a big picture that what she was saying and doing didn’t add up.” She smoothed a stray lock of hair back into place with an elegant flip of her hand. “Wasn’t there some kind of big emotional scene with Kelly’s last employer?”

“Yes, but there were no accusations of vandalism or any
thing like that.” Harrison picked up his pen and began tapping at the blotter. “It was merely ... a disagreement. Perfectly understandable.”

“Fine, then,” Kendra said. “I hope I’m wrong. I just can’t
help being curious when someone always seems to be in the center of a lot of upset. It makes me suspicious.”

“You don’t think Kelly destroyed her own brushes, do you?
Seriously, Kendra, if you’d seen her when she found them.” Harrison paused, remembering Kelly’s choking sobs and the way they’d wrung his heart, but also uncomfortably reminded of his own suspicions about Kelly acting under Elizabeth’s influence. “Anyway, you’d know she could never do that if you’d seen it. I really think it nearly broke her heart.”

Kendra held her hands up to halt him. “You’re right. I don’t know Kelly that well and I’m probably way off base. She seems like a sweet girl and she is certainly a heck of an artist. I’m sure she wouldn’t jeopardize the tools of her career just to get a lit
tle extra attention from someone. Forget I ever said anything. Let’s talk about our stock situation instead. That’s happy news.”

But Harrison couldn’t forget what Kendra had said and it stayed in the back of his mind the rest of the day along with the disturbing idea that Kelly was indeed the only one anyone had seen come in or out of that room that morning.

Chapter Twelve

The days since Kelly’s brushes had been smashed settled into a comfortable routine. Her new brushes and paints had arrived as quickly as they had been promised, which was a good thing in Kelly’s estimation. Elizabeth’s brushes were, unsurprisingly, top quality. Works of art in themselves, they were beautifully balanced with soft smooth brush tips. Regardless of their quality, however, the brushes had felt strange and awkward in Kelly’s hands.

Strokes Kelly made with Elizabeth’s brushes and paints seemed to come out with a delicacy at odds with Kelly’s usual bold style, and working with them left her feeling uneasy and out of control in a way she couldn’t explain or quite put her fin
ger on. It was almost as if she wasn’t the one using Elizabeth’s brushes, but the brushes were using her instead. Even the thought of Elizabeth exerting more and more control over her without her consent or even her explicit knowledge made Kelly’s stomach twist in anxiety.

She practically kissed Mr. Jenkins when he gave her the first box that UPS had delivered. The relief of working with mate
rials of her own, never touched by Elizabeth in any way, was intense. With her new brushes, Kelly rose early every morning now and had toast with jam in the kitchen before anyone but Dora was up and about. Betsy would join her later in the morning to work for a few hours as Kelly blocked in one section of the mural at a time with large generalized strokes. After lunch, she’d fill in details with Betsy still in tow—if she wasn’t helping Mrs. Jenkins in the kitchen or Mr. Jenkins out in the greenhouse. It amazed Kelly how much Betsy could already do. She didn’t know if talent could be inherited, but if it could, Betsy had certainly picked up her mother’s flair for art, and according to Mr. Jenkins, Betsy had Elizabeth’s talent with plants as well.

Then at night
.             

Oh, the nights. The long, languorous, love-filled nights. Not one had gone by without Harrison knocking at her door after the rest of the house had quieted.

This morning, after Harrison crept out of the room, Kelly had slipped out of the tangled mess of sheets on her bed and padded into the bathroom. Turning the water as hot as she could stand it, she had savored the heat and the steam as she stood beneath the spray. Her body had felt languid and sated in a way she’d never known, yet more alive than she ever remembered feeling. Every nerve ending had tingled with the remembered caresses she and Harrison had shared during their long night of lovemaking. A long night uninterrupted by strange dreams of a woman in yellow or the appearance of gardenia petals on her pillow.

Standing in front of the mirror while she brushed her hair, she peered intently at her face. She felt so different now it seemed strange that she looked just the same.

Did you think you were going to start looking like Elizabeth?
Kelly asked herself, and then felt gooseflesh crawl up her spine. She didn’t much relish thinking about Elizabeth these days. With the dreams gone and her mysterious flower child taking a hiatus, she hoped whatever had begun with her arrival here was over. Maybe she had done what Elizabeth had asked. Maybe Harrison was healed. Maybe all that needed to happen was for him to share the truth about Elizabeth’s infidelity with someone for it all to be resolved. Maybe the magical nights Kelly shared with him in her yellow wallpapered room were healing more than the lonely spot in her own heart. Maybe in some way they were working healing magic on Harrison as well.

He’d certainly healed his relationship with Betsy. Kelly liked to think she’d contributed to that as well. All that remained now was to finish the mural. And then
. . .

There indeed lay Kelly’s problem.

What would happen after she’d finished the mural? Harrison hadn’t said a word about continuing their relationship and Kelly was reluctant to bring the subject up. Besides, in their stolen hours together at night, their mouths were too busy with other activities to talk much.

She smiled thinking about it now, while she was working on the front section of Amelia Earhart’s
I935 Lockheed Electra I0E. She’d finished Amelia’s face. She thought of her only as Amelia now. After spending three days capturing the engaging smile, the tousled blonde curls and the ski jump nose of arguably the most famous female pilot ever in a much more than life-size portrait—Amelia’s face was nearly as tall as Kelly—Kelly felt she’d actually come to know the woman.

Up on her ladder, she trailed a stroke of lighter gray along the lower section of the plane’s nose to create the illusion of reflected light and three dimensions.

“That really adds something. It’s almost like magic, the way a single stroke can turn something flat into something round.”

Kelly didn’t even flinch at the sound of Harrison’s voice. “Thanks,” was all she said.

“You know, it’s getting harder and harder to make you jump these days,” he complained.

“The reflex has been beaten out of me. You all will have to find a new hobby, now that sneaking up behind me has lost its thrill.”

“Oh, trust me, sneaking up behind you still has its exciting moments. Particularly when you’re wearing those jeans.”

The barely suppressed laughter in Harrison’s voice was per
fectly clear to Kelly even before she turned. So it wasn’t the Cheshire smile on his square jawed face as he lounged in the doorway that had her nearly falling off his ladder. It was the sight of him wearing a pair of blue jeans and a polo shirt that knocked her off balance. “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a grin so smug Kelly looked for feathers to drip out of his mouth.

“You know what I mean. What’s with the regular people clothes?” Kelly smiled down at him as he sauntered across the floor to the foot of the ladder. His eyes twinkled and Kelly felt her heart give a little lurch. She shut her eyes against the momentary sensation of dizziness and wished it away. “Where’s your Corporate Captain costume?”

“Gone for the time being. I thought I’d try a more casual approach. Don’t you approve?” He braced both arms against the ladder’s struts.

Kelly tilted her head to one side. “I do approve. I just didn’t think you even owned clothes like that.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Harrison said. His grin widened even further.

“Like what?” Kelly asked, eyes narrow with suspicion.

“Like I was hoping you would accompany me to the Art for the Whole Planet Ball.”

“You’re kidding.” The bottom dropped out of Kelly’s stomach. The Art for the Whole Planet Ball was, without a doubt, the single most important social event in the Seattle art circle’s season. Proceeds from the charity event totaled in the tens of thousands, with the money eventually ending up in the hands of third world artisans and artists trying to set up cottage businesses. It was the kind of event that dowagers arrived at literally dripping diamonds and left feeling good about themselves. It was not the appropriate social scene for a graduate student at the Institute of Art, no matter how talented. She didn’t belong. Wouldn’t ever belong at a function like that.

“Why should I be kidding?” Harrison demanded.

Kelly searched his eyes for a glimmer of understanding of what he was getting her into, and saw none. “First of all, it’s months away. Second, I’m not exactly what people will expect for you to have on your arm when you show up,” she said with the same patient tone of voice she used to explain the steps of mural painting to Betsy.

Harrison frowned. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t plan in advance. As to your second objection.... On the contrary, you’re exactly what they expect. I need someone bright and polite who looks reasonable in an evening gown,” he stated matter-of-factly. Then he grinned at her. “I figure even you can manage to hold your tongue and be polite for one evening.”

“So in other words, you’re asking me to be your walking, talking Barbie doll for an evening.” Kelly arched a brow at him. “Why don’t you take Kendra instead? It’ll give her a chance to wear all those dresses she can’t wear to dinner anymore, and she’s always polite. Even to me.”

Harrison crossed his arms across his chest and craned his head up to look Kelly directly in the eyes. “I can’t. I took Kendra last year. If I take her again this year, people will start to talk.”

Kelly shook her head. “Golly gee, Harrison, you sure know how to sweet talk a girl and make her feel special. You’re not only asking me to be your Barbie doll for the evening, you want me to be your last-ditch Barbie doll. I think I’ll pass.”

“Perhaps I should rephrase my request.” Harrison slid down onto one knee in front of the ladder on which Kelly still perched. “Ms. Donovan, I was hoping you would accompany me to the Art for the Whole Planet Ball. It would be a great honor to attend this function with someone who is both as intelligent and knowledgeable about art as you, and who is also a vision of beauty.”

Kelly laughed in spite of herself and gave him a playful push with her foot. “Don’t push it too far, Harrison. I promise I’ll go if you stop before I gag.”

“Gosh, can you do that on demand? That sounds like a neat trick. Do you think you can do that at the ball? I’m sure it will enhance your Barbie doll status.” Harrison made his eyes round with wonder as he stood up.

Kelly slipped down the ladder into Harrison’s arms. “Harrison St. John, I do believe you’re developing a very sarcastic sense of humor.” Kelly felt her heart twist. The smile that warmed Harrison’s face was so at odds with the dour demeanor he used to sport. She wished with all her soul she could believe the words he teased her with. The very thought made her head spin as she looked up into his handsome face.

Stop it
, she told herself ruthlessly.
Enjoy the ride while you can because it’s going to stop soon enough. You can only ride the roller coaster for so long and it usually stops as suddenly as it starts.

He nuzzled her neck. “I’m definitely developing some
thing,” he growled, pulling her close against him and leaving no doubt about what he meant.

She raised her face to be kissed, and he did so with an exqui
site blend of tenderness and need that made Kelly’s knees go weak. She melted against him and his hand rose to tangle in her hair. It felt so right to be in his arms, so safe and warm. When Kelly looked up into his eyes and saw something other than pain reflected back, her heart surged. She clung to the moment, unwilling to let it go.

Unfortunately, a sharp knock at the door had her and Harrison breaking apart like guilty teenagers caught under the sudden illumination of a porch light.

Kendra stood in the doorway, shifting from one spike-heeled foot to another. Kelly had never seen Kendra look in any way unsure of herself. She wondered what bee had managed to finally get into Kendra’s bonnet as she tugged her oversized shirt straight.

“There’s been a phone call for you, Kelly.” Kendra’s usually melodious voice had an odd tinny quality to it. “From the Resting Arms Nursing Home.”

Kelly winced. No wonder Kendra looked uncomfortable. “Tell them I sent the replacement check and I swear this one won’t bounce.” She turned away, dismissing the topic. The last thing she wanted to discuss in depth with Harrison or Kendra was the mess her checkbook was in—or had been before the latest infusion of cash from the mural commission for Betsy.

“It wasn’t about the bill.”

Something quiet and soft in Kendra’s tone made Kelly turn back around. “Then what was it about?”

Kendra shifted again and bit her lip before she said, “It’s your mother, Kelly. She died this morning.”

***

Kelly sat on the grassy edge of an outcropping over the Sound. Water crashed below her, churning and turbulent. Up where she sat, however, the sun shone down on her shoulders, washing the day in warmth. She tilted her head back, letting the warm rays bake her face, wishing that the heat could pene
trate through to the cold knot at the pit of her stomach.

After Kendra had dropped her bombshell, Kelly had made a few phone calls and then practically run up here. She’d told a white-faced Harrison that she needed a few moments alone. She glanced at her watch. Those few moments had stretched into a couple hours, but she still wasn’t quite ready to walk down the hill and face the world yet.

Kelly wondered what she’d been doing at the moment her mother had died. Had it happened when she was eating breakfast? Or had her mother ceased to exist on this plane while Kelly had been putting highlights in Amelia Earhart’s hair or touching up an airplane strut? Did it really matter? Whatever time it had happened, Kelly had felt nothing. No shiver of dread. No release. Nothing. She rolled a blade of grass between her thumb and forefinger and pondered the irony. She was so connected to Elizabeth—a woman she’d never met—that she could no longer look at the dock without the bile of fear rising in her throat, but the death of her own mother left her entirely untouched.

She turned at the sound of murmuring voices carrying up the hill behind her. Harrison and Betsy climbed together. Betsy carried a small wicker hamper in one hand. Her other hand clasped Harrison’s.

“If it isn’t one surprise after another this morning,” Kelly remarked dryly when the two were close enough to hear her.

“Daddy thought
you should have some lunch.” Betsy set the hamper down in front of Kelly, her face a picture of shy pride. “I made your favorite. PB&J with lots of Mrs. Jenkins’ raspberry jam.”