she’d returned home for holidays and summers she’d never noticed her mother’s domineering attitude. Of course Tori had always been the obedient daughter and seldom her mother’s target.
“Is that couch new?” she asked, wanting to change the subject, yet seriously interested in the answer.
Her mother reared her head back, her carefully made-up blue eyes widening. “That piece belonged to your great-grandmother. It’s been in the family for generations.”
“Oh.” It was ugly. Burgundy velvet, trimmed with gold, obviously an antique, probably valuable. Tori hated it. “Is it comfortable?”
“For God’s sake, you don’t sit on it.”
Tori froze just as she swiveled, ready to plant her fanny on the diminutive settee. “Silly me,” she murmured, and Mallory hid a smile.
Isabelle appeared with a tray and as she poured the tea, Tori wandered over to the window overlooking the south garden, breathtaking as always with tiers of award-winning lavender and pink roses and crawling jasmine.
The Whitford mansion was beautiful, having been featured in Arch Digest twice, but Tori had always liked the gardens the best. They soothed her, helped her feel connected to the world. She missed them while she’d been away, sadly, more than she’d missed her family.
Of course it wasn’t the flowers that had initially caught her interest. Jake Conners had done that. The gardener’s son had the body of a god and when he’d take his shirt off, even her prepubescent heart would flutter like crazy. She wondered whatever happened to him. He was at least five years older. Probably married with two kids, living halfway across the country by now.
“Victoria?”
She turned to her mother. Fifty-eight years old and not a crease on her face, not a strand of gray glistening from her perfect blond bob.
“You’re not to make any plans this week without checking with me first,” she said opening her leather-bound appointment book. “We have a very full schedule.”
Out of the corner of her eye, movement in the garden caught Tori’s attention. She moved her head for a better look and squinted at the figure holding the shovel.
Her breath caught.
It couldn’t be…
“Victoria, are you listening to me?”
“Yes, Mother, I heard every word.” She changed windows for a better angle, and stared in giddy disbelief.
“For heaven’s sake, Victoria.” Her mother came up behind her, moved the heavy cream-colored drape aside and followed Tori’s gaze with disdain. “Don’t even think about dallying with the Conners boy.”
“My God, it really is Jake?”
Mallory joined them at the window. “Yummy, isn’t he? I haven’t seen him for ages.”
“You two disgust me.” She let go of the drape. “Step away from there before he sees you ogling him like a couple of schoolgirls.” She returned to the sofa and her appointment book as if the matter were settled. “This Saturday we have dinner with the Radcliffs. You do remember their son, Bradley, don’t you, Victoria?”
“How could I forget? The first time we met he tried to impress me by reciting the entire Gettysburg Address.” Tori shuddered. “And that was as interesting as he got.”
“That may be so but he’s executive vice president of Radcliff Enterprises now. Rumor has it he’ll take over when his father retires in two years. You could do much worse, Victoria.”
She gave her mother a mischievous smile. “You’re listening to the rumor mill these days?”
She looked up from her appointment book. “I had lunch with Claire Radcliff.” Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “I don’t much care for your attitude since you’ve been home, young lady. Even your father commented after dinner last night.”
Yeah, right. Like he’d notice anything that didn’t concern Whitford Industries’ bottom line. Which was fine with Tori. At least he didn’t interfere in her life. Of course Mother effectively managed that. As if Tori didn’t fully understand what was expected of her.
“Okay, so what else besides dinner with the Radcliffs?”
“Let’s see…” Her mother adjusted her reading glasses and then perused the appointment book. “Ah, yes, we have another dinner with Sela and Jonathon Matthews and their son Nelson. That would be on Friday at the Club.”
As she listened to her mother drone on, Tori’s gaze drifted back out the window. Jake had moved to the climbing jasmine and she could barely get a glimpse of him but her mind filled in the details of his slim hips, narrow waist, broad shoulders. The way his tanned skin glistened with exertion.
Suddenly it didn’t seem like a dozen years ago when she’d stood at her bedroom window, hiding behind the white lace curtains that matched her canopy bed. If he’d known she was there, staring and holding her breath, he’d never let on. He’d just kept digging or pruning, muscles rippling along his shoulders and back, and sending her poor pounding heart into overdrive.
Once when he’d been working on the pond off the solarium, she’d had to sneak into Mallory’s room in order to watch him. Isabelle had caught her sitting on the windowsill. She’d only smiled. Never said a word to anyone.
“Well, I see this is a wasted afternoon.” Her mother tapped the tip of her Montblanc pen to get Tori’s attention.
“You’re right, Mother,” Tori said, leaving the window and crossing the room, away from her mother and Mallory. “Let’s do this some other time.”
“Victoria!”
She didn’t hesitate, but headed for the staircase. Excitement slid over her like honey on a hot biscuit. She had to write her e-mail friends.
To: The Gang at Eve’s Apple
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hot damn!
Color me happy. I finally get it—what you all have been going on about. Because…tada…I found him!!!! My man to do has been under my nose. Well, not for quite a while. I actually just saw him again after about eight years, but I digress… I’ll start from the beginning— His name is Jake and he’s got the body of Adonis. No kidding. He could be in a calendar or a centerfold or something. Anyway—
Tori stopped typing, reviewed what she’d written and frowned. Maybe using Jake’s name wasn’t such a good idea. None of the girls knew who she was. They only knew her by her screen name “Angel.” And of course they were scattered across the country. She knew a couple of them were from the East Coast and it was highly unlikely their paths would ever cross, but still if anyone ever linked her to this confession…
She shuddered at the thought of her mother’s reaction. Altering a few minor details wouldn’t change the story. Quickly she went back and changed Jake’s name to simply J before she continued.
When I was about twelve, I first saw J. He was our neighbor’s gardener’s
