Jennifer's Garden (15 page)

Jackson threw his head back and laughed.

Jennifer felt a pinch of envy.  It must be a skill honed in the courtroom.  As a trial attorney, Sam was forever in front of people and her main objective:  woo their hearts and minds to her client’s side.  What had become a winner’s instinct on the job had become second-nature in her personal life.

Jennifer ran her hands down the sides of her royal blue silk dress, smoothing them over the soft material.  She met new people all the time.  She was friendly and amenable.  She was known for her pleasant bedside manner and easy camaraderie with patients.  That’s what everyone said, anyway...

But watching Sam and Jackson, she realized theirs was a different connection.  More than simple lust on a physical level, they seemed to share an ease of relations, and ease of communication.  Every time she was around Jackson, she felt unsettled.  Not uncomfortable really, but of- balance somehow.  Flustered.

Why was that?  What made him so difficult for her?

Seized by a prickly sensation of antsy, Jennifer glanced at her wristwatch.  Well after four, it was time to go.  Aurelio was waiting.

Jennifer opened the door.  “Sam,” she called out.  “We need to get going.”  She felt stiff and severe, awkward.

“Okay,” Sam nodded but didn’t move, stirring Jennifer’s impatience.  She walked out and stood near the edge of her patio.  She abhorred being late, especially on Aurelio’s big night.  “It’s four-twenty.”

Sam looked up at the same time as Jackson, but their eyes held contrary reactions.  Hers was the usual,
Okay, I hear you. 
His was,
Is there a problem
?

“Hey, Jen,” Sam said.  “Do you know an artist by the name of Bruce Marsh?”

She shook her head.  “No, the name doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Jax says he’s a Florida artist.  Does a lot of water and nature scenes.”

Jennifer looked at him, surprised he knew any artist by name.  “No,” she said again.  “I don’t.  What medium does he use?”

“Paint,” Jackson spoke up.  “He paints some incredible impressions, where the entire canvas appears to be water, as though you’re looking over the edge of your boat in the middle of nowhere.  You’d swear the water was moving,” he said, admiration painting a soft smile on his face.  “The way he catches the play of light across the surface is unbelievable.  He also does shorelines, waves against sand, some marshy areas.  His work is exceptional and very distinct.  Once you’ve seen one, you can recognize them anywhere.”

“Maybe we can ask Aurelio,” Sam suggested.  “He should know.”

“Maybe,” Jennifer agreed, but what was the point?  Was she really going to buy the latest and greatest of some unknown artist, based on the opinion of Jackson Montgomery?

Sam turned back to Jackson and said, “I’ll check it out.  Might be the perfect touch for my condo.”

“Why would you want a painting of water hanging on your wall?”  Her place on Brickell Avenue hosted one of the most enviable views in the city.  “You stare at it through your windows all day long.”

“For the nights,” she grinned, encouraging the same from Jackson.  Sam spun her focus back around to him.  “But enough small talk.  We’ve got to hit the road.”  She gave a firm pat to his shoulder and said, “Nice to see you again, Jax.”

“You too, Sam.”

Jennifer waited as Sam returned to the house.  “You might want to wash your hand.”

“Nah.  I’d rather his scent linger a while longer.”

“So, can I assume you two have a date?”

“Unfortunately, not.”  Her eyes held a faint defeat.  “He’s seeing someone.”

“Oh well, better luck next time,” Jennifer said, a strange disappointment grazing her mood.  What did she care if Sam “struck out?”  The woman had hordes of men, hanging in wait for her merest nod.  One loss should not have the power to dampen her evening.

Nor hers.

With a swift tug of the front door, Jennifer followed Sam outside.  She slipped into the passenger side of the shiny sports car and buckled herself in.  Sam did likewise and ignited the car to life with a smooth thrust around the circular drive.

Unable to shut out thoughts of Jackson, she ventured, “So what did you two find so interesting a discussion?”

Sam slapped a grin on her face.  “Art.  The man’s a connoisseur.”

“Come now, be serious.”  Jennifer dipped her face, but kept her eyes fixed on Sam.  “One memorized artist name does not make one a connoisseur.”

“He knows his stuff.”

“What stuff?”  She drew back.  “Art?”

“Art, use of color, the implicit subtext of emotion...”

“And you’re the one to know the difference.”

“I know a little.  Enough to banter back and forth with him, anyway!”

“You sure he wasn’t trying to flatter you?” she asked, bothered by the nip of jealousy she felt.

 Sam laughed.  “It wasn’t flattery.  He’s a straight shooter, that one.”  Rolling through a stop sign, she accelerated her merge onto the highway and traffic closed in around them.

“And you know this how?  As far as I know, you’ve spent all of ten minutes with the man.”

“I read people for a living.  I can spot the genuine deal when I see it.”

“Hmmm...”

“What do you have against him, anyway?”

“Nothing.”

“Is it the bartender thing?”  Sam shot the question like an accusation.

Jennifer flipped her gaze back to Sam.  “No.  He’s a landscaper, remember?”

“That’s right.  A service for which you’re willing to pay dearly.”

She crossed her arms.  He’s also about to retire she thought, her gaze touching upon the red Ferrari cruising past them while avoiding the driver’s lecherous wink.  But she said nothing.  She refused to give Sam that kind of ammunition.

“I don’t get it,” Sam sailed over the pause.  “He’s a nice guy, hard-working, good-looking.  As far as I see it, the only thing wrong with him is that he’s unavailable.”

She swiped a glance to her side.  “You want to date him, now?”

“You bet I would,” she said with a smile and a shake of her wavy hair.  “Unlike you, I don’t have such restrictive criteria for my prospective mates.”

“You have no criteria.”

“Oh c’mon, of course I do,” she replied, and defiance sparked in her dark brown eyes.  “But mine deals with the man inside.”

“And mine doesn’t?”

Sam waved her hand at Jennifer like she was a nuisance fly.  “Don’t get all fussy with me.  I’m simply suggesting you pay more attention to the outside, the career, success, than you do the inside.”

“You make me sound like a shallow gold-digger—which I’m not,” she snapped.  “I have high standards and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Jennifer uncrossed her arms and resituated her position in the small leather seat.  Staring out the window, traveling the highway, they were passing downtown Miami.  Most buildings were tall and sleek, while others were short and sullied creating a mix of old and new, interspersed with palms and tropical foliage.  Elevated about mid-level, the Metrorail wound oddly through them, like a space-train cruising through the air.

“You’re not a shallow gold-digger,” Sam said.  “
Obviously
.  You’re a successful cardiologist.  The point I’m trying to make is that you wouldn’t date anyone who didn’t make as much or more money than you.  You hold men to the same bullion standard as gold-digging women do, but for different reasons.  If they don’t earn a good living like you do, then they’re not worth your commitment.”

Jennifer couldn’t quite deny the accusation, but she didn’t like the way it sounded.  It made her assessment of men seem superficial when the truth was, she looked for a variety of traits, success being one of many.

She considered their education, their goals, both short-term and long.  She contemplated their personal interests and hobbies, took into account the compatibility of their personalities and career choices.

Jennifer resented the insinuation that she was shallow.  “I consider a myriad of aspects when considering a prospective husband, which is what I’m looking for in a man.  To me, passing time with a man who won’t meet my goals is pointless.”

“Not everyone wants to get married, Jen.  It doesn’t make for a bad person.”  Sam whipped the car left, passing a bright-green VW bug ahead of them.

“No, but when you are considering the prospect of marriage,” she pushed, “economic stability is a very important quality.”

“You don’t have to be rich to be happy.”

“Similar interests and hobbies are important as well,” she continued, ignoring the comment.  “When two people come from entirely different backgrounds you are setting yourself up for disappointment.”

“Jackson appreciates art, same as you and Aurelio.”

Not on the same level Jennifer felt certain, but disregarded the comparison.  “Then there are the long-term goals regarding career and family to consider.  The short-term goals.”

“Goals are good.”

“When you marry,” she emphasized, annoyed by the interruption, “the entire family must be considered.”

“You might like his family.”

“I’m talking about mine.”  Jennifer wouldn’t do that to her mother.  Her mother expected more, and more she intended to deliver.  “All of this must be compatible.”  She spoke as teacher to student.  “Jackson may appreciate a particular artist, but I assure you he is not interested in world travel, at least not to the same destinations I would like to explore.  Nor is he the type to concern himself with which private school may best suit his child, or whether he wants children at all.”

“How do you know that?” Sam fired back.  “Have you ever discussed it?”

Jennifer returned a glare.  “Obviously not.”

“Well then you don’t know, do you?  All you have is assumption.  Give him a minute of your time, and you might be surprised.”

“I doubt it,” she replied, slightly unnerved recalling their conversation from earlier today.  Jackson had indeed surprised her, but only because she hadn’t expected his vision to be so flowery, so detailed...

So
romantic
.  The images he had created, the way he spoke of a bride...  She had been more than surprised—she had been drawn in, eager to learn more about him, his past...

Like his mother.  She was a gardener, much like her mom.  And his sister had been married in a garden, like she was going to be.  So they had a few things in common.  Some interesting common ties.  It was nowhere near enough to build a life upon.

“Stranger things have happened,” Sam remarked with a mischievous gleam in her eye.  “All you have to do is open the door.”

Jennifer sealed her thoughts closed on the subject.  Whether Sam was motivated by true belief or the spice of the battle she didn’t know, but either way she always pushed, and right now Jennifer was feeling the shove.

She wasn’t shallow.  She wasn’t judgmental.  She was practical; a realist.  She knew what she wanted in life and had a plan to get there.  Her door had already been opened and she was walking through, hand in hand, with Aurelio.

There was no need to open up another door, nor did she hold anything against a man like Jackson for living his life by the bed of a pick-up.

Did she
?

And why did it matter?  Despite what Sam claimed, she accepted others as they were.  Granted, she may not want to marry a man like him, but it didn’t mean she looked down on his choices.

Did she
?

Feeling uncomfortable in the tiny bucket seat, Jennifer hit the forward button on her mind play.  This stream of thought was nonsensical.  Why Jackson didn’t make a good fit was irrelevant.  She had found her perfect companion and there was no need to explore other possibilities.

Case closed.

Tonight was about Aurelio, not Jackson, and she couldn’t wait to see him.  This was a shining moment for her fiancé and she intended to fully support him,
without
distraction.

Putting the matter behind her, she noted the sign for their exit.  A squiggle of nerves jumped in her belly.

Chapter Thirteen

Ten minutes later, Sam whipped her Mercedes to a tight stop in front of
Illuminations
, Aurelio’s gallery located on Espanola Way.  Neon lettering lit up the name in a calming blue, while spotless glass walls revealed standing room only.  Cast in soft shades of color by interior lighting, patrons milled among the paintings and sculptures.  Judging by the size of the group, it appeared his opening was a triumphant success.

“Hot damn,” Sam exclaimed softly.  “Who do we have here?”

Jennifer glanced briefly at the young valet while she applied a last touch of lipstick to her lips.  Tall, slender and blonde, he looked to be all of twenty years of age. 

Sam popped out of the driver’s seat as he opened her door. “Hello, gorgeous...” she rolled out in a near purr.

Must she?  Jennifer sighed.  She replaced the lipstick into her slim purse and rose from the vehicle as the valet held her door.  Breathing in the salt-misted air, she stepped onto the sidewalk of the narrow street and mentally prepared herself for the evening ahead.