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“I’m not so sure.”
“She’s always been good to me,” Jayne said. “I owe her.”
“At what point is the debt paid? At what point are you even? You’ve given back enough. Move on.”
“If only I could,” Jayne murmured.
“Meaning what? You’ve thought about leaving?”
Jayne sighed. “Everyone has a fantasy life. In a not-so-subtle change of subject, when are you going to tell your parents you’re back?”
“I don’t know. I was planning on showing them rather than telling them. I’ll wait for the right opportunity.” Something flashy that would ruin her mother’s day.
“What about the jewelry? You have to tell them what you’re doing. Elizabeth loves your work.”
Rebecca grinned, delighted. “Wait until she finds out those wonderful designs she so admires are made by her own daughter. She’ll be horrified.”
“She’ll be proud.” Jayne hesitated. “In her heart.”
Rebecca laughed. “You’re being kinder that she deserves. Knowing that I’m Rivalsa will make her want to pound her head against the wall. It’ll be a great show, and I plan to enjoy every minute of it.”
Once Rebecca had started designing jewelry, she’d created a name to hide behind. Rivalsa, Italian for revenge, suited her. David had wanted an exclusive deal with her. She agreed, but only on the condition he keep her identity a secret. While he hadn’t wanted to go along with that, she’d insisted, and in the end, they’d both made a lot of money. The first time she found out Elizabeth was wearing her pieces had thrilled her. She’d known then she was close to returning home—she just had to wait for the right moment.
“I know she’s difficult,” Jayne began.
“I swear, you’re secretly a middle child,” Rebecca complained. “No. You can’t make this better. She never wanted me—she made that clear over and over again. When I left, she didn’t bother getting in touch with me. At least my dad came out and made sure I was all right.”
“You didn’t get in touch with her, either.”
“I’m not the parent,” Rebecca said. “You know she was glad I’d left. I’d been nothing but trouble. You’re the perfect daughter she never had.”
“I’m not her daughter.”
“I know, but she would have preferred you to me.”
Jayne pressed her lips together but didn’t speak. There was nothing to say.
Rebecca knew in her head she should let the whole mother thing go. She was an adult. But there was a part of her that had never accepted Elizabeth’s indifference. A part that wanted to make her mother pay attention, and if she couldn’t get her attention by being good, she was happy to earn it by being bad. That philosophy had bitten her in the ass plenty of times, but not enough for her to change.
“Do you think I need therapy?” she asked.
Jayne put down her spoon. “You’re the most mentally healthy person I know.” The corners of her mouth twitched as she spoke.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Any time.”
Rebecca reached for the DVD case and opened it. “Let’s see what Mr. Darcy has to say about all of this. How does it go? Any man of good fortune must be in want of a wife?”
Elizabeth Worden walked into her house and breathed a sigh of relief. Home at last. While travel always sounded glamorous, the reality was, it was inconvenient and required one to go to foreign places. She’d never truly understood the thrill of the unknown. She had always preferred the comfortable rhythms of her perfect life. She walked through the foyer, only to pause and stare at the flower arrangement on the center table.
It was a haphazard mess of crumpled orchids and crooked lilies. The greenery was all bunched on one side, as if a five-year-old had put it together.
“I can’t believe it,” she murmured.
“Hello, Mother.”
The voice of her son distracted her momentarily. She looked toward the stairs and saw David. He dressed like a street urchin, but she’d learned to ignore the worn jeans and casual shirts he liked so much. Instead, she took in the handsome face and the way he moved, and she felt a fierce surge of pride. No matter what else went wrong in her life, David had turned out exactly right.
