The Forbidden Brother. Barbara McMahon
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seemed to miss his brother. Had that been only a facade? There was so much she didn’t know about the man she’d once thought she’d marry. Another clue they weren’t suited. Why hadn’t she picked up on them at the time?
“Mutual.” He was silent. “Actually more on my part than his. I was tired of—” He stopped abruptly.
“Tired of what?” she asked.
“Cleaning up after him. It’s not important. Water long over the dam now.”
“It’s hard to hold on to anger when the person is gone, isn’t it?” she said slowly. “He was wonderful at first, then changed a little. Now I’d give anything to have him back—warts and all.” Could she have forgiven him as he’d begged? Once trust was shattered, she didn’t know how to rebuild it.
“Some things seem insignificant after all,” Jed said. He took a breath she could hear over the line.
“Changing the subject, what did you do this afternoon?”
“Instead of coming to the cottage, do you mean?”
“You had plans when I showed up. I was merely curious as to what.”
“I met with a client who loves to collect certain glass sculpture. She and I have been working together from the time I first joined Hugo. She’s a lovely elderly lady who has enough money to indulge herself.”
“Sell her anything?”
“Not today. I had nothing I thought suitable for her. But we had a lovely tea and I promised to keep my eye out for just what she wants.”
“That all?”
“There’s more to running an art gallery than sitting around and waiting for people to wander in and buy,” she said. Did he think she didn’t work hard at her job?
“I didn’t mean that. As I said, just curious. Sometime you’ll have to tell me all that’s involved in running a successful art gallery.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Jordan’s place was dusty. Did he have a maid or something? I can’t see my brother cleaning a house. Or am I wrong?”
She smiled, feeling the ache fade. “Actually I can’t see Jordan cleaning house, either. Planning for a blowout party, yes. He had a cleaning service once a week. Maybe your mother suspended the service after his death. I know she hasn’t been to the cottage since he died. She’s grieving so it hurts to see her so sad.”
“I know. It’s going to take her a long time to get over this, if she ever does.”
Laura wondered if it would take Jed a long time to get over his twin’s death. She wished she knew him well enough to ask.
“Do you want me to bring you your things from there? Or will you pick them up on Thursday?” he asked.
Laura felt as if she’d been slapped. She knew nothing of hers remained at Jordan’s. “There’s nothing I want,” she said slowly.
“Nothing?”
She didn’t recognize the odd tone to his voice. Should she have taken whatever was there and not raised questions?
How to explain she’d cleared out everything she’d had there the afternoon she’d walked in on Jordan and that young woman in his bed. Any feminine apparel had to belong to the other woman.
What a tired cliché. The hurt and betrayal rose again. She was so angry with Jordan she could slap him, if he were still here. How could he lie to her so?
“I want nothing—donate everything. Maybe I should have sorted through the clothing,” she said. She would have found anger a driving force to get everything packed up and donated. Anger at herself for being so gullible and falling for a glib charmer. And anger at Jordan for using her and not being honest. Anger that he’d been seeing someone else while professing he loved her. Anger at shattering the dreams she’d built of their future.
Anger that she had not proved to be what he needed as she’d once thought he was what she needed.
“It wasn’t that hard. I packed up the clothes out of the closet and drawers. The clothes still in the dirty hamper I just tossed. The rest I figured were clean. Maybe you can give me the address of the thrift shop and I’ll drop them there tomorrow.”
Quickly she ran through the things she needed to do the next day. Guilt made her volunteer, “I could go over with you if you want. It’s not hard to find if you know Provincetown, but a bit tricky to give directions as I don’t know the street names, just how to find the place.”
“I thought you were busy until Thursday afternoon,” he said.
“I said that’s when I could start the appraisals. The process takes time and concentration. I have a bit of free time tomorrow afternoon, take it or leave it.” She already regretted her hasty comments. Let Jed find his own thrift shop to donate to.
“I’ll take it. I’ll take you to dinner afterward in appreciation for your help.”
“No need.” She didn’t like the fluttering that sprang up at the invitation. This was not some man she could become interested in.
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