Jennifer's Garden (2 page)

Jennifer turned to her mother and was met with a wink. 
Ergh
.  She flung her arms open and went to her mother’s chair.  Stooping to a crouch she heaved a sigh.  “I don’t like it.  Any of it.”

“It’s life, darling.”  Beatrice held the younger in her gaze, and reaching over, brushed Jennifer’s hair to one side.

The small gesture reminded her of when she was a girl.  When she came home from school, exasperated by some kid, some teacher...her mom consoled her.  She always had the answers.

“Things are what they are.  No sense in fighting.”

“He thinks I’m pushing you.  That it’s my fault you’re...”  She couldn’t finish the thought.

“He’s wrong.”

“We don’t have to wait.  Aurelio and I can get married tomorrow.  Here, at Fairhaven.”

Annoyance flickered in her mother’s eyes and she waved the suggestion away.  “I’ll have no such thing.  You’ll be married in fine Hamilton tradition.  Like your father and I.”

Jennifer closed her eyes.  Guilt simmered deep inside. 
But at what cost to you
? 

As though sensing her thoughts, Beatrice replied, “Don’t worry about Dr. Roberts.”  She ran her hand lightly over Jennifer’s head, gliding down her cheek and then cupped her chin.  “It’s his job to worry.”

Jennifer opened her eyes and stared out across the grounds.  Beyond the canopy of oaks, the sun shimmered gold, casting the nursing home in luminescent tones of peach and rose.  Quiet, gentle exterior lighting glowed in and around the landscape.  Opulent, welcoming, it seemed more like a private estate than a medical facility specializing in end-of-life care.

“I’m fine, really.  But more importantly, I want to be there when you and Aurelio take your vows.  I want to be a part of this monumental step in your life.  You promised.”

Looking into her mother’s eyes, there was no room for argument.  She would be held to her promise.  Even if it killed her.

Chapter Two

Jennifer slowed her black BMW for the entrance to the historical mansion and eased down the long and winding drive.  Located off Old Cutler Road, Michael Kingsley’s home had been renovated and restored to its original grandeur and grand it was, with its oak-lined driveway, salmon-colored azaleas in full bloom ringing their base.  Exposed stone walls and coral-formed arches, weathered to a soft patina of gray.  Elaborately molded ironwork trimmed balconies along the second-floor, while more of the same outlined the grounds.

“We’re here for an appearance, for Michael’s sake.”

Jennifer managed a small smile.  An appearance.  She knew this was the last place Samantha Rawlings wanted to be.  Fiery brunette, hotshot attorney—party was her middle name, not social commitment.  Yet here she was, willing to drive halfway across town for a quick shot of pleasantries.  Because her friend needed her.

Jennifer nodded and slowed the car beneath the
porte-cochere
, careful to avoid the formally clad young men waiting to get their doors.  Above them, a magnificent lantern hung from the rounded ceiling, inlaid with shells and mosaics, an eclectic mix of all things Old Miami, and bathed the area with light.

Jennifer took a deep breath and released, suppressing a fresh rush of nerves as she glanced through the open front doors.  “For Michael’s sake.”

Michael’s daughter was getting married.  Springtime seemed to be that time of year when brides surged to the forefront of attention and like any proud father would, he was hosting an engagement party.  Any other time she would be delighted to be in attendance, but under the circumstances, it only proved a sad reminder.

 “Try to enjoy yourself,” Sam said, patting Jennifer’s thigh.  “You could use the diversion.”

Diversion.  Wary reluctance pulled at her.  Like Sam, this was the last place she wanted to be, but obligations were obligations and she wouldn’t shirk a single one.  “I will.”

Jennifer placed the car in park.  While Sam slid out the passenger side, she caught her reflection in the rearview mirror.  Determined blue eyes reinforced: 
We’re in, we’re out
.  Michael was a good friend and it wasn’t every day your daughter became engaged.   Not every day the family stood witness.  A sliver of grief pinpricked her heart.  No, not every day.  Time didn’t wait on anything, or anyone.  She closed her eyes.  Even when you begged.  Pleaded.  Time offered no reprieve.

“Jen?”  Sam ducked her head into the car.  “You coming?”

“Yes.”  Of course she was coming.  Shaking her head, she scolded herself. 
Stop
.  Stop this nonsense right now.  This isn’t about you.  This is about Michael and his daughter.  It’s a happy day.

A celebration.

Tears pushed at the back of her eyes as a young man waited by her door, the one he held open.  Embarrassed she hadn’t noticed him there, Jennifer shook her head once more, quick and sharp.  Enough.  In one smooth motion, she rose from the car and snapped the lens of her mind closed.  Tonight was about new beginnings, rejoicing in the future.  Two young people were beginning their lives as one. 
Could there be a happier day
?

Circling around the car she caught up with Sam.

Sam froze mid-stride.  Lanterns of light swam in her dark brown eyes.  “You sure you’re okay ‘cause you don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, swallowing hard against the tender swell in her throat.  Maybe if she said it enough times, it would be true.  Maybe if she focused on others, she would forget about herself.  Maybe Sam was right.  Tonight, she could use the distraction.

Diversion.  Shut the lid on her life and focus on Michael’s.  “Really, I’m fine.”  She tried to back it up with a smile, but abandoned the effort.

“We can leave right now.”  Sam glanced sideways and back, her feisty auburn waves swinging in sync.  “Ditch the scene before anyone’s the wiser.  Tell them you were called to the hospital.”

“Nonsense,” she said, waving the notion off as entirely unacceptable.  “We’re not going anywhere.”  With a brief fuss to her hair, Jennifer started toward the door—before second thoughts sent her running.

Sam nodded.  “Good girl.”  Linking an arm through Jennifer’s, she reassured with a squeeze.  “Don’t worry.  You’ll get through it.”

“Of course I will.”

Jennifer heaved a sigh.  It’s what I do.

In the expansive foyer, they were greeted by an enormous arrangement of bird of paradise, anthurium, ginger, and a spray of delicate purple blossoms.  Perched on a pedestal of mahogany and centered beneath a glimmering chandelier, it was exotic and vibrant and though predominantly Hawaiian by nature, felt completely Miami tropical.

“That is some kind of gorgeous,” Sam murmured.

Jennifer nodded dully.  Everything in Michael’s home was gorgeous.  From the baby-smooth leather furniture to the glossy wood and polished stone floors, he’d spent a veritable fortune to make sure of it.

Several guests mingled in the main living area and to their left, a few huddled near the wide doorway into the kitchen.  Arched and trimmed in intricately carved heavy dark wood, it was a superb piece of craftsmanship.  But Jennifer’s attention was drawn outside.  Through floor to ceiling windows amidst a tangle of palm and ferns, she could see the main party gathered by the pool, the area lit by a flicker of torches.

Sam stopped in place.  Glancing across the keystone flooring, from artwork to furniture, she let out a soft whistle.  “That patio is unbelievable.  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear we were smack in the middle of wild jungle.”  She flipped her gaze to Jennifer.  “I may be no fan of the mosquito fest it presents, but I have to admit,” she hitched a thumb toward the back, “that’s enticing out there.”

Jennifer willed the soft clink of glasses, the easy rhythm of light conversation to work magic on her mood.  “Yes.  Michael and Laurencia have done a spectacular job.”

As the two meandered toward the patio, Sam pointed to a colorful painting of a cottage prominently displayed on the dining room wall.  It was a watercolor of a house trimmed in shutters of yellow, bordered by pink hibiscus, its small porch leading to a secluded stretch of sandy shoreline.  Nothing else existed in the painting but blue sky and blue water.  “Now that scene makes me want to toss the legal pads and head for the islands!”

Buoyed by the sight of it, she smiled.  “It does, doesn’t it?  Aurelio gave that piece to Michael...as a housewarming gift.”

“I’m surprised it appealed to him.”

Jennifer tensed.  Sam didn’t care for Aurelio and changing her mind was a game of fools.  A game she no longer cared to play.  As Sam turned away and headed outdoors, Jennifer cast a glance toward the painting.  She had been with Aurelio when he selected the piece and both agreed it was perfect for Michael.  Both had been right.

Jennifer joined Sam outside and the warm evening air coated her skin in an instant.  The woodsy, spicy scent of ginger filled her senses, the fragrance made richer by the nearby saltwater clinging to the air.  The combination helped cleanse her thoughts of negativity.  An associate from the office caught her eye and she waved.  He returned the gesture with a smile.

As she and Sam glided between bodies, a light Spanish tune swirled around them, mixing with the din of conversation.  Jennifer recognized this particular piece as Flamenco; her preferred selection of music.

Sam neared the edge of the pool.  Almost black in color, it appeared more lagoon than pool, and dotted with small lights.  It blended seamlessly into the natural stone waterfall cascading down the center, overflow splashing into basins on either side.

“Damn,” Sam murmured.  “I feel like I’m stepping into another world.”  Her gaze trailed off down a hidden pathway which disappeared behind a burgeoning mass of philodendron.  “The house may be an architect’s dream, but this...this rainforest is the real jewel.”  She turned to face Jennifer.  “I sure as hell hope you got your referral for landscaping from Michael, because this man knows what he’s doing.”

“I did indeed,” she replied, heartened by Sam’s approval.  “As well as from a few other physicians at the hospital.  He’s scheduled to come by the house tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, well...”  She pivoted on her heel.  “Perfect.  Now let’s get a drink.”

“Yes.  Let’s.”

Trailing her to the nearest makeshift Tiki bar, Sam’s voice picked up as she slowed.  “Ah...  I think we’ve found the popular man this evening.”

Doling out drinks and a smile, the bartender’s movements were fluid and swift as he served the guests clustered around him.  Medium-build, average features, Jennifer thought his tanned skin seemed all the darker against his white cotton Guayabera button-down.

But it was his hair that garnered the most attention.  Swatches of sandy blonde thrust upward and sideways—every which way, in fact.  “Sam, there are all of three bars and a group upwards of a hundred people.  I daresay all the men have their hands full.”

“God,
don’t I wish
—but this one...  This one’s setting fire to my loin as we speak!”

Jennifer sighed.  “Don’t you ever tire?”

“No and if I do,” she quipped, “they make drugs for that.” 

She shook her head, but duly followed as Sam jaunted off to capture the latest target of her lust.  Well-skilled in the art of flirtation with her fiery bronze eyes and wavy auburn curls, black fitted dress cut high above the knee on her long bare legs, Sam was an eyeful herself at nearly six foot, let alone
hand
-full.  Jennifer had no doubt she’d add this man to her list of conquests before all was said and done.

“I’ll have a gin martini straight up, three olives,” she ordered, then added with a smile too large to be innocent, “and make it dirty.”

“You got it.”

Jennifer wondered if Sam really enjoyed her drink as such, or was she simply after shock appeal.  Probably the latter she mused, and plugged herself into the spirit of fun as best she could.  “Oh, and by the way Sam, those little blue pills you’re counting on...  Don’t.  They’re for men only.”

Jennifer took satisfaction at the bump in the man’s eyes.

Two could play at this game.

Sam gave her a gotcha smile.  “Good thing I know a few tricks.”

He grinned and winked.  “I’ll bet you do,” he said to Sam, but his gaze landed on Jennifer.

“You are so delicious.”

Despite being well-accustomed to Sam’s take-no-prisoner approach to flirting, the comment caught Jennifer off guard.

But not him.  “You’re pretty sweet yourself,” he passed back to Sam, though his gaze remained uncomfortably on her.

“Not really,” she replied with a throaty chuckle, “but I am downright tasty.”

Jennifer was amazed.  Not only by their salacious banter, but the fact the man poured her martini without missing a beat, skewered three plump olives, slid them in, pinched a napkin from its cradle and handed off the finished product—all with a smile.

“As,” he said, extending the oversized triangular-shaped glass to her, “is this.”

A warm, friendly, unaffected smile.

Sam retrieved the drink.  “Damn, you’re good.”