Cursed by Love (12 page)

“And you picked today, of course.” The
Amazonian vision summoned a frosty smile and gestured Molly toward the
square-edged sofa. “Have a seat. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

After punching a button on the console,
she spoke into a wireless headset, similar to something Madonna might wear in
concert. “Gabe, there’s a Molly Webber here to see you. She says—” The
receptionist broke off suddenly and took the headpiece off, placing it on the
desk. Molly could hear the disconnect buzz from her seat on the couch. “He’ll
be right out.”

“Thanks.” Molly pulled the Bella
scrapbook out of her tote, preparing to show it to Gabe.

Wearing a soft denim shirt rolled-up at
the sleeves and a pair of khakis, he burst into the reception area. He pulled
Molly into a quick hug and inhaled deeply. “Hey, good to see you! Thanks for
coming. Hang on just a second.”

Turning, he wheeled to a stop in front
of his receptionist. He planted his hands on his hips and glared. “Terry, for
God’s sake! What the hell are you doing out here? Where’s Vera?”

The receptionist flashed him a
challenging look. “She had a dentist appointment, remember?”

“Damn, that’s right.” Gabe slammed his
right fist into his left palm. “Why’d she ask
you
to man the front
desk?”

First, yelling over the phone, now
upbraiding an employee in front of a visitor. Molly frowned. She simply
couldn’t relate this man to the one who’d been so sweet to her mother. To the
one who ignited a slow heat in the pit of her stomach with nothing but a
dimpled smile. The one whose kiss still kept her awake two days after the fact.
He was cute, sure, but so... so... so
insensitive
to the people around
him. His people skills needed some work.

She couldn’t figure him out. Or her
reaction to him.

She didn’t want to watch what might
happen next, but feeling both horrified and fascinated, she couldn’t avert her
eyes.

Terry stood up as regally as a queen,
all six feet of her, meeting Gabe eye to eye. “Why not me?”

Gabe’s jaw muscles twitched. “I told you
the last time—“

“Vera helped me with my outfit,” Terry
interrupted, with a puppy-like eagerness on her overly made-up face. “Don’t I look
fabulous?”

She stepped from behind the desk in a
clingy purple wrap dress that fastened with a rhinestone buckle at the side and
a neckline that plunged down somewhere near Florida. She revealed miles of leg
with well-toned calves and big ankles encased in sparkly hose as she twirled in
front of Gabe on boat-sized five-inch open-toed stilettos.

Molly couldn’t help gaping at the
biggest feet she’d ever seen on a woman. She speculated about where in
Cincinnati one would purchase do-me shoes in that size. Of course, anything
could be ordered on the Internet.

Gabe blanched, looking comically
appalled, then shook his head and grunted. Molly could only wonder what bug had
crawled up his nose. So Terry’s outfit was over the top. Gabe’s reaction was
equally so.

He heaved a beleaguered sigh. “Yes,
fabulous, but—“

“And we checked the schedule. You didn’t
have any appointments.” Terry looked pensively from Molly to Gabe. “We thought
it would be okay. I’ve been working up the specs for the new project out here,
so that’s cool. I’m not getting behind on my regular work.”

Gabe sighed again, and the corners of
his mouth began to twitch. He quickly covered a chuckle with a cough. “Okay,”
he said, gaining a relieved smile from Terry. “But check with me before you
pull a stunt like this again.”

“I will, Gabe, I promise. We didn’t
think you’d mind, really.”

“Fine.” Gabe flapped his hand with a
dismissive wave, before turning back to Molly. Finally. He looked gorgeous, of
course. Tired, but gorgeous. Definitely gorgeous, even with dark shadows
rimming his eyes. “Hello.” Appreciatively, he checked her out from head to toe.

“Hi, yourself.” If she wasn’t
experiencing whiplash from another Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde personality change by
him, she would have regretted not stopping by home to change out of her school
clothes.

“Is that your grandmother’s album?”

“Yep.” She held it up as proof.

“Great, let’s take it to my office.” He
jiggled the change in his pocket while he waited for her to collect her things.
Then he took the tote and the album from her. He clasped her elbow to lead her
away. She tingled at his touch, as always.

“Ah-hem.” The receptionist cleared her
throat. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“You’re pushing it,
Ter
,”
Gabe muttered, before turning to Molly. “I guess this means you didn’t meet my
cousin Terry?”

Cousin? “Not officially.”

“Molly, Terry. Terry, Molly.” He waved
his hand back and forth between them, executing the briefest introduction
possible.

Wondering at Gabe’s lack of enthusiasm,
Molly stepped forward to shake hands. Her knees almost buckled under the crush
of Terry’s grip. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You, too.” Terry sank back into the
chair behind the desk. “Love your hair, doll.”

Molly tucked one side of her bob behind
her ear, certain she must look about as alluring as a little Dutch boy next to
this Marilyn Monroe wannabe. “Thanks.” She waited through a pool of awkward
silence until she understood what Terry expected. “Yours looks good, too.”

“Really? You like it?” Terry tugged on
the ends of the elaborate do. “Vera thought it was a bit much for the office.”

“
You’re
a bit much for the
office.” Gabe rolled his eyes, but whatever tension had gripped him a few
minutes before seemed to have evaporated. This comment was more teasing than
derogatory, and Molly sensed the two had leaped some invisible family hurdle.
“Next time Vera decides to give you a lunchtime makeover, tell her to go for
the Secretary Barbie wardrobe instead of Showgirl Barbie.”

“Sorry, that was my fault.” The
receptionist made a show of batting her spidery false eyelashes. “There’s an
amateur contest tonight at
Starmaker’s
, and I wanted
to give my whole outfit a try.”

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a
winner,” The cousins exchanged a quick high-five. “Good luck.” Gabe turned back
to Molly and let out an exasperated breath. “Welcome to the funhouse.” His eyes
wandered over her again, sweeping her with their warmth. “I’m glad you’re
here.”

Suddenly, she felt all flustered. “Well,
I knew you’d want to see Grandmother’s clippings and mementos about Bella as
soon as possible.”

“You’re right, I do. If I can manage to
keep a lid on Chaos Central for a few minutes.” He stopped at the door. “Terry,
is Granddad still here?”

“He’s in the back with Chloe. Want me to
page him?”

“I’ll take care of it. You stay here and
try to keep a low profile.”

“Too late for that, sugar.” Terry’s
accompanying laugh started out as a giggle but quickly morphed into something
full and rich.

“Don’t I know it,” Gabe grumbled.

He led Molly through a large open room sectioned
off into cubicles with high-tech computers, modems, printers, robotics, and
other equipment covering every available surface, around a corner and into an
office. The space suited him, precise to a pin, everything in its place with no
frills attached, only the oddly whimsical, colorful touch here and there. Here
a Reds
bobblehead
doll, there a blue
Eeyore
propped in a chair. Here, a trophy from the Flying
Pig Marathon, there a Darth Vader robot on a shelf. A vintage Gameboy mixed in
with some other hand-held devices. A Rubik’s cube. Balloon animals looped over
a hat rack. And was that trunk tucked away in the corner really a toy box
filled with baby dolls and feather boas?

“Would you like some coffee?” He nodded
to an elaborate space-age coffeemaker on top of a mini-fridge. “Water? Soda?”

“I’m fine.” She settled into a visitor’s
chair.

He placed the album in the center of his
desk and took his seat. “Tell me what you found out. Do you have specific pages
marked for me to look at?”

“There are a lot of news clippings about
Bella, her career, her engagement to
Jebediah
.
Apparently, they were the
Brangelina
of their day.
Belladiah
, maybe.”

He leaned back and smiled. “Generated a
lot of press, huh?”

“Yeah, the society section of the New
York papers devoted whole pages to their engagement party. It tells about
everything from the food to the table decorations—Lobster Newburg, caviar,
quail’s eggs and
Pavlovas
, in case you wondered—with
Faberge-style eggs nestled in bouquets of lilies for the decor. There was one
of the eggs in
Nonna’s
stuff, by the way. We hoped it
might be authentic, but it’s a pretty impressive imitation of the real thing.”

“Valuable?”

“I doubt it, but I’ll have it appraised
to see.”

“What else did you learn?”

“The guest list and the gifts were
incredible. They received a Tiffany lamp from the mayor of New York, an early
cubist painting by Picasso from the
Vanderbilts
,
Standard Oil shares from John D himself, a silver champagne bucket from Teddy
Roosevelt, the list goes on. One fabulous name and gift followed by another.”

“What, no toasters?” he asked. “And
where are all those fabulous gifts now? Was the Standard Oil stock tucked away
in your grandmother’s hatbox with the jade?”

“Not so I noticed, but she did have the
Tiffany lamp and the champagne bucket. Mother has them now, but I’ll tell her
she should have them appraised and insured right away. Is it possible that some
of the items were handed down through your family?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” He cleared his
throat and attempted a snooty, upper-crust accent. “But I’ll check with the
butler at the house in the Hamptons to see if we moved the Picasso there the
last time we redecorated.”

It tickled Molly to see him behave so
light-heartedly, but then he dropped the phony Eastern-
ese
and returned to a more familiar wry tone. “You can bet anything we owned of
value was sold long ago.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
“What have you learned about the Sleeping Lotus?”

Molly fought to keep her face straight.
“The Lotus was a gift from Grandma Bella’s spiritual adviser.”

“Spiritual adviser?” He scratched his
forehead. “Is that like a priest or minister? I don’t picture a man of the
cloth giving such a blatantly carnal theme.”

“The gift giver was a woman.” Molly
hesitated, before presenting Gabe with the next info. “Sister Sylvia was her
name.”

“A nun?”

She shook her head. “Fortune-teller.”

Gabe’s shoulders slumped, his perfect
posture deserting him. He clapped a hand to his forehead in an overly dramatic
gesture. “Oh, hell, not another one. Is believing in the occult an inherited
family trait then? Or is it just you and your Grandma Bella?”

Molly folded her hands demurely in her
lap. “And maybe one or two others.”

“Right, well, let’s get back to this
so-called spiritual—”

“Uncle Gabe, look! Granddad and I drew a
picture of a dinosaur for you. A pink T-rex. She has really big teeth and a
long tail. Pink’s a pretty color, isn’t it, Uncle Gabe?”

A little girl with long dark curls and the
face of an angel bounced into the room, secure in her welcome—until she spotted
Molly. The tyke skidded to a halt and then started back peddling. A solemn
expression moved across her winsome features. “I didn’t know you had company.”

“That’s all right, precious. This isn’t
business
company.” Gabe’s eyes lit up with a genuine smile for the child. “Come and
meet my friend. Molly, meet my niece, Chloe. She’s six. Chloe, this is Miss
Webber.”

“Hi, Chloe.” Molly had enough experience
with six-year-olds to know not to get too close and overwhelm the child. “I
like your dinosaur. The polka dots are a nice touch.”

“Thank you, Miss Webber,” Chloe ducked
her chin and gave Molly a wide berth as she hurried around the desk and climbed
into her uncle’s lap. He scooted his chair back, making room for her.

“You can call me Molly, if it’s all
right with your uncle.”

Chloe placed the drawing on the desk,
and looked up at Gabe. “Is it okay?”

“Sure, pumpkin.” He admired the pink
dinosaur with purple toenails and red eyes.

“Okay, Molly.” Chloe nodded before
announcing, “It’s against the rules to have
friend
company at the
office.”

“That’s your mommy’s rule, not mine.”
Gabe tweaked the child’s nose. “But I’d make an exception for this friend
anyway. She has some important news for Granddad. Do you know where he is?”

“Uh-huh, he’s washing his hands.” She
dropped her voice to confide, “They’re messy. We got markers on him.”

“You did, huh? Would you ask him to come
here when he’s done, baby cakes?”

“Kiss first?” She puckered up and leaned
toward him.

“Kiss first.” The two smacked lips.

Chloe hopped down. “I’ll go tell him. He
isn’t wearing his ears.”

“Remind him to put them on,” Gabe told
her as she dashed from the room.

Molly sat up straighter while the pieces
fell into place. “Your grandfather wears a hearing aid?”

“Only when he wants to,” Gabe said.
“Which translates into not very often.”

“Were you talking to him on the phone
the other day? And last night in Mom’s driveway?”

 
“I think so, why?”

“Well, you were yelling at someone on
the phone.” She tried to keep the accusation out of her tone. “It played ‘When
You Wish Upon A Star,’ before you answered it.”

“Definitely Granddad then.”

“Are you sure?”

He shrugged. “‘When You Wish Upon a
Star’ is the family ringtone. Everyone but Harold uses it, but it was probably
Granddad.”

Molly let her skepticism show.

“I don’t normally yell at anyone else.
They can all hear, and they usually do what I tell them. Most of them do
anyway. Most of the time.”

“You yelled at Terry.”

His fingers drummed on his desk. “Not
really, not yelling. Just disagreeing. Disapproving, maybe. Objecting,
definitely. Forcefully, but not yelling.”

“Since you brought it up, why were you
objecting so, uh, forcefully?”

“Terry knows the office dress code.” He frowned.
“We’ve had that discussion before.”

“Hello, hello, hello.” An elderly sprite
wearing a bright orange Hawaiian shirt with yellow flowers and green-checked
pants strode into the office, rubbing his hands together. Molly assumed the
purple cat whiskers drawn across his cheeks were the result of Chloe’s artistic
expression.

“The little princess says we have
company. ‘Pretty company,’ I believe were her exact words, but I see she
understated the case. Not merely pretty, but gorgeous, beautiful, heavenly
company.” The old man didn’t just smile with his mouth. Every part of his face
looked merry. Molly warmed to him instantly.

“Speaking of appropriate dress code.”
Gabe shook his head over his grandfather, but she could see that the
disapproval was all hype, not fact. “Molly, this is my grandfather, Elliot
Shaw.”

The old man took her hand with a courtly
bow and a distinct twinkle in his eyes. “My pleasure.”

“Mine, too,” Molly said.

“Now, I have one warning for you.” He
leaned in close. “Don’t listen to a thing Gabe says when it comes to his
family. He’s definitely prejudiced. And sometimes, in the wrong direction.
Nothing about me is inappropriate, least of all my clothes. I’m just colorful.”

“Orange is one my favorite colors,”
Molly said. “You’d brighten up anyone’s day.”

The enchanting Mr. Shaw took the liberty
to wink at her behind Gabe’s back, his handsome eyes a mirror of his
grandson’s. The features were older and sported a few lines and wrinkles, but
they obviously shared a gene pool. “And you smell delicious. Are you here about
the provenance for the Sleeping Lotus?”

“Yes. I think I’m finally on the right
track. Look what I brought with me today. My grandmother—”

Gabe’s desk phone buzzed. He raised the
receiver and did some more of that forceful disapproving-disagreeing-objecting
he’d admitted to. “What! He’s what? When? For God’s sake, Terry, get away from
the lobby. I’ll send someone up to replace you.” He turned to his Granddad.
“Where’s Sierra?”

“Physical therapy.”

“Where’s Uncle Harold?”

“Uh, he’s not here.”

Gabe narrowed his eyes. “Where is he?”

“You don’t want to know.”

He sucked in a deep breath and continued
naming names. “Lenny?”

“At the hospital.”

“Okay, stay calm.” He dragged his hand
down his face, erasing whatever emotions threatened to emerge. “Who else is
here?”

“Besides you, me, Terry, and Chloe?
Dominic just came in.”

“I guess it’s too much to hope he’s not
dressed like a serial killer, isn’t it?”

“He’s not wearing his black trench coat,
but he does have on a lot of black leather and heavy metal. The strip of green
spray paint in his hair adds a cheerful touch, but I’m guessing that’s not the
look you’re going for.”

At Gabe’s pained expression, the
grandfather stepped up and placed his hand on Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe took a
second to brush his strong, young fingers over the older gnarly ones. The
simple gesture of solidarity between the two men touched Molly’s heart.

“Don’t get bent out of shape, son.
Whatever’s happened, we’ll handle it. Tell me what’s up.”

“Quigley’s on his way here. Now.”

Elliot Shaw’s mouth turned down in a
grimace—made comical by the purple whiskers. “That airbag?”

“Who’s Quigley?” Molly asked.

“Our biggest client. Our newest client.”
Hints of panic frayed Gabe’s calm tone. “And he’s a real pain in the elbow.”

“He didn’t have an appointment?”
Granddad asked.

“No, he was in the area and decided to
drop
in
. He told Terry he’d be here in about ten minutes.” Gabe paced and
glanced at his watch. “More like five, now.”

“Good thing you stayed up all last night
restoring the program that crashed,” Granddad said. “Is everything back in
running order?”

“It’s as good as it’s going to get in
the next two minutes. But you know what a dry old stick he is. I don’t want him
seeing Terry dressed in that Marilyn Monroe getup.”

Molly had watched their exchange from
the sidelines. It wasn’t her place to speak up, but she guessed Gabe might be
overreacting. “Are you kidding? Leave Terry exactly where she is. Quigley might
be as tight-laced as a Victorian corset, but if he’s a man, he’ll salivate when
Terry bats her eyelashes his way.”

“That’s all good,” Gabe said, “as long
as Quigley’s not tempted to touch anything he shouldn’t.”

“What are you worried about? Sexual
harassment?”

 “No, I’m worried about the
conservative old blowhard coming up with a handful of the wrong thing.”

“Wrong thing?” Molly blinked, trying to
imagine how anything about Terry could be the wrong thing when the realization
washed over her. Tall. Big hands. Big feet. Low, husky voice. Heavy makeup.
“Like what?”

“Like hairy chest or male genitalia.”
Gabe looked pained as he spit the words out.

“Terry? Glamorous, voluptuous Terry is
a—a—” Molly’s mind drew a blank on the appropriate politically correct
description.

“Transvestite,” Granddad provided.

“Cross-dresser,” Gabe confirmed.

“Jiminy, that’s amazing. He’s really
good at it.” Molly laughed at how completely she’d been fooled. But she could
see from the tension in Gabe’s face and shoulders that he found the situation
humorless. “And I wondered what you were mad about.”

“He can dress however he wants on his
own time, but not here. When you work in an office, especially this office, you
never know what’s going to happen. And I do not want a man who holds my
financial future in his chubby little hands disapproving of or drooling over my
all-male cousin,” Gabe went on. “Either response is bound to get my butt fired
from the best-paying job we have this month.”

“I’ll replace Terry,” Granddad
volunteered. “I’m better than Terry if you’re worried about making the right
impression on old man Quigley.”

“Perfect. You always come through for
us.” Gabe hustled him toward the door. “Go wash that ink off your face, pronto,
then send Terry home before Quigley gets here.”

The old man clapped his fingers to his
cheeks and felt around. “
Ack
! I forgot. I already
tried to wash it off, but it’s indelible.”

Gabe closed his eyes and cursed. “Okay,
out of options. It’ll have to be me.” He pulled a tie off a coatrack in the
corner and tossed it around his neck before retrieving a blazer from the
closet. “Quigley may think it’s odd, but at least he won’t think we’re crazy,
kinky or depraved. When God knows, all of us are at least one of the three.”

“Wait.” Granddad stopped Gabe as he
moved toward the door. “What about Molly?”

“Yeah, what about me?” Molly perked up,
willing and eager to take that panicked look off Gabe’s face.

“It’s weird to be saying this, but I
don’t have time for the Sleeping Lotus now.” Gabe threw her an apologetic look.
“You’ll have to wait, or come back later.”

“No, I mean, what about Molly taking
Terry’s place? Quigley won’t know she doesn’t work here.”

Gabe looked torn.

Molly took offense at his lack of
enthusiasm. “Hey! Your grandfather’s right. I can do it. I may not look my
best, but I’m presentable enough and resourceful enough to fake being a
receptionist for a few minutes.”

Gabe took her by the shoulders and
looked her over, slowly. The smile reached his eyes before it reached his
mouth. But before long, his lips followed suit. “God knows, you’re more than
presentable, but I hate to drag you into the family circus.”

“I’m offering you my help.” She met the
look in his eyes straight on. “If I were you, I’d accept it, and say thank
you.”

He hesitated for not more than a second.
“You’re right.” He surprised them both by dropping a quick kiss on her mouth.
She licked her lips, savoring the brief taste of him. “Thank you.”

Then, he took her by the hand to lead
her to the reception area. “Terry, hurry and show Molly what buttons to push,
then take a hike.”

Gabe hovered while Terry gave her a
thirty-second crash course in receptionist and telephone etiquette. Molly had a
pink cardigan in her tote. She slipped it on over her T-shirt. Gabe ducked out
of sight, and Terry swept out of the office just as two men in suits entered.
And just as Molly had predicted, the old man’s eyes nearly bugged out of his
head as he watched Terry strut her—
er
,
his
stuff out the door.