Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 32
Charlie wondered if Jenny was serious. Did Tess really feel that way? She thought of her old college friend, wrapped in long skirts and shawls, hair long and straight, face scrubbed of makeup. Yes, Charlie realized, Tess would have said that. Which was so ironic, because, unlike Charlie, Tess had been wealthy enough to have all the jewels she wanted.
The horse snorted. Jenny reached into the pocket of her four-hundred-dollar dress and pulled out an apple. She tucked it between the horse’s large teeth. Charlie stepped back.
“Can I pick out my egg today?” Jenny asked. “Can I take it to show Tess?”
A vision of Jenny’s suitcase being tossed into the luggage compartment of a bus came to Charlie’s mind. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
Jenny moved to the corner of the stall and began fluffing the bed of hay. “I’ll be careful with it, Mom.”
Charlie shook her head. “No. It’s too valuable.”
“It’s so dumb. All those eggs do is sit in that cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody hardly looks at them anymore. Nobody hardly enjoys them.” She kept her back to Charlie, busy with her work.
“No. And I’d appreciate it if you came inside now. You’re going to ruin that dress.”
Jenny tossed back her hair. “Can we do something tonight? Rent a movie or something?”
Charlie closed her eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to make Jenny’s life the way Jenny wanted it. “Not tonight,” she answered. “Your father and I have a cocktail party to attend.”
Jenny didn’t respond, but Charlie noticed a flush of pale crimson sear her daughter’s pale cheeks.
“The party is business,” Charlie continued, though she knew it sounded weak, a halfhearted excuse. “A company from China.”
Jenny set down the horse’s brush. “I’d better finish packing anyway. My bus leaves at seven in the morning.”
“We’ll miss you.”
“Sure.” Jenny whisked past her mother and headed out of the barn.
Charlie remained standing in the stall. The horse nudged her side. She stroked its forehead. “What are we going to do with her, Bluebell?” she whispered. She ran her hand down the silky coat of the horse’s neck and thought of the tender, sensitive care that Jenny gave Bluebell. And then Charlie realized that Jenny—like the Fabergé egg she’d just inherited—was not only beautiful, but also very fragile. She wondered if, in a few years, Jenny would go to Smith. If she did, Charlie would have to insist that she not live off campus with Tess. Because whether her daughter liked it or not, the artsy, bohemian life that her old friend lived was simply not in Jenny’s genes.
Charlie slowly left the stall and went through the barn. She thought of Tess. She thought of Marina. And then Charlie wondered if what had seemed so right so long ago, had in fact, been very, very wrong.