leaves me with one question—who do you look like?” Skinner asked. “Is your mother beautiful?”
“She is to me,” Jewel said quietly, remembering her mother before grief and depression overtook her.
“Does she have that golden hair, the black brows and sapphire eyes?”
“Blair, this interest is bizarre,” Jewel said. “Not to mention inappropriate. No, my mother doesn’t have my coloring. I believe I resemble my grandmother, Eugenie.” Though she’d never actually seen a photograph of her grandmother.
Skinner brooded a while. “I know you’re considered a warm, attractive young woman, an excellent mixer, everyone seems to like you—and that’s not always the case, believe me—but you tend to keep things to yourself.”
“Perhaps I picked that up from you,” Jewel said smoothly, making him laugh.
“It might seem strange, but when I met you I wondered where I’d seen you before.”
“Maybe we met in another life?” Jewel suggested flippantly. “Otherwise our paths would never have crossed. I lived and worked over a thousand miles away.”
“True,” Skinner said, almost wryly. “All the same, something about you seems familiar. Anyway, if you’re very good and handle all the work I give you—for which you know I’ll get the credit—I’ll take you along to a function or two. Lady Copeland doesn’t do as much entertaining as she used to, but Travis loves to splash out. Since his divorce, his beautiful daughter, Amelia, acts as hostess for him. Leaves Travis free to pursue…other interests. He loves the ladies, does Travis. Makes no secret of it. The Connellans are far more private. So much tragedy there.”
Jewel looked up, liking Skinner a little better for the soft note in his voice. “Keefe Connellan’s father was killed in a mining accident, wasn’t he?”
“He wouldn’t have been,” Skinner answered somber, “except that he was a hero. He went back to save some of the men trapped underground. Freed quite a few, but in the end he was trapped himself. It was a tragedy. None of us really got over it.”
“How terrible.” Jewel bowed her head, thinking events like that could never be forgotten.
“Rebecca—that’s Earle’s widow—was very nearly destroyed, but she had her son to think of. She and Lady Connellan, Keefe’s grandmother, held the fort until Keefe came of age. Splendid young man. It’s an open secret that he has his troubles with Travis—just as everyone knows Travis is trying to land Keefe for a son-in-law. A marriage of dynasties, so to speak.”
“It usually works that way.” Jewel shrugged. “It’s a tough life. I’ve seen photographs of Amelia Copeland and Keefe Connellan in the papers. Both very glamorous people.” Connellan was every woman’s dream. A young Sean Connery.
“My dear, you could brush her aside,” Skinner surprised her by saying. “She is beautiful, as you say, but there’s not a lot of sparkle. I like sparkle in a woman. So, I fancy, does Keefe. There’s nothing doing so far, despite Travis’s best efforts. When I take you to one of their parties, I’ll go with you to pick out your dress. Or I’ll send you off to a friend of mine. She’ll know exactly what’s required.”
Jewel stared at him, a little dazed. “Blair, I’m overcome.”
“That’s nice.” He smirked. “There are perks to being one of my protégées, my dear. Of course, it’s not my intention to marry again,” he reassured her, quite unnecessarily. Christy, one of her colleagues, had always thought Blair was borderline gay. “It’s glorious to be free. Now, enough of the chitchat. We must get down to business. I’m expecting Keefe at three, although if something important crops up, he might have to cancel. He has a law degree, did you know? Brilliant legal skills he puts to good use, as well as being a mining engineer. At thirty-two he has more presence than most of the big names in the state. And I believe he intends to take over the whole group eventually. He’s developed a reputation as a man with a mission. That mission, so far as I can see, is to get rid of Travis Copeland.”
“Sounds like you’re a bit in awe of him, Blair,” Jewel slipped in gently. Blair Skinner rarely spoke so highly of anyone.
“I consider it an honor to call Keefe my friend,” Skinner admitted with a modest smile. “I like to think my maturity and experience has left its mark. I hope so. By the same token I often partner Travis at golf. He’s an excellent player. So’s Amelia. She could give most of the men a run for their money. Do you play yourself?”
“Nope.” Jewel smiled. “Never had the time. Nor the money for expensive clubs. Tennis is my game.”
“Don’t be ashamed of tennis. If you’re good enough, I’ll give you a game. I can see you now!”
“Another Anna Kournikova?” Jewel asked blithely.
“Women’s tennis was in the doldrums before her,” Skinner said in a brisk voice. “I’m with Cash and McEnroe. The best woman player can’t match a man. Couldn’t come close. Now, you’ve got your legal pad, haven’t you?”
“Open, ready and waiting,” Jewel said and held up her pen. She didn’t bother to tell him about her cupboard full of tennis trophies. That could wait.
ALMOST TWO HOURS LATER, Jewel made it back to her office, so small that some days she thought she’d faint from claustrophobia. She was about to enter, when Anthea, one of the receptionists, all but bolted down the corridor to speak to her.
“Jewel!”
“Hi, Anthea, anything up?” Jewel turned.
“I wanted to catch you.” Anthea spoke a little breathlessly. “They don’t have an appointment or anything, but two teenage boys are out front asking for you.”
“Are they respectable?” Jewel grinned. “No shaved heads or outrageous tattoos?”
Anthea laughed. “No, they’re just kids. Nice-looking, actually. They say they know you.”
“Names please, Anthea,” Jewel said patiently, desperately wanting to get on with her workload.
“Harry and Josh Hungerford.”
“Good Lord,” Jewel said. “I have to keep reminding myself that kids grow up. Show them through, Anthea. I grew up in Hungerford country. I can spare them a few minutes, though we’ll all be knocking heads just trying to fit in my office.”
A few minutes later she was shaking hands with two young men she could easily identify, even if they’d both outgrown her by many inches. “This is a wonderful surprise.” She smiled at them warmly, as pleased to see them as they apparently were to see her. “Take a seat. Tell me what’s going on in your lives. How’s your mother? I hope you’ve got some good news.”
“Well, no, Jewel,” Harry, the older boy said, his deep voice cracking. “We couldn’t think of anyone else to come to. We know you’re a big-time lawyer now. We need help.”
“Is something wrong?” Jewel looked from one to the other. “I don’t know if I can do anything myself—” She indicated with her arm the stack of files: franchising, floats, syndicates, whatever. “But I can certainly point you in the right direction.”
“No,”
