A Decade for Darius

Prologue

Mother, you cannot take this job. Those were Jessalyn’s spoken words, except, to her ears, they sounded a lot more like, Mudder, you canna take dis dob. God, how she hated orthodontia. Her lips felt raw from the cheese-grating edges of the recently-installed torture device.

Instead of reacting, Anna just sat there, stacking each bill neatly as she wrote out the checks.

So, Jess tried another tactic. You can pay those on-line, you know.

Her mother just nodded and licked an envelope. What job are you talking about?

Jess tossed her hands in the air and began pacing, finger pointed at her mom as she stalked across the floor. Don’t act dumb, mother. The bus driver had the radio on. Now everyone knows that Anna Swan will be the first female county sheriff in Hillsborough. I’ll be ruined.

But Anna only allowed a ghost of a smile to touch her lips as she shook her head and wrote another check. Don’t be ridiculous, Jess. My job is an honor, not something to be ashamed of.

That comment squeezed a gasp of horror from Jess, the one noise not fouled by miles of chrome. It’s bad enough to have glasses. Now I have this awful radiator grill all over my face. And if that’s not enough to chase the boys away, let’s arm the parents with semi-automatics. I will never get a date.

Pragmatic as always, Anna tossed back her dark-blonde hair and focused on her bills. You’re over-reacting, Jess. Eric has plenty of dates, and he’s only one grade older than you.

But Jess was only just warming to her topic. Sure. No parent has a problem sending their daughter here. They’ve got a cop and a trooper to shoot Eric if he violates her. But me? Boys my age are already repelled by my looks. They certainly aren’t going to face down the county sheriff for a prom date.

Anna squared up her envelopes and placed them aside before looking up. Any honorable boy will be happy to meet us, Jess.

The look she gave told Jess she knew all about those raging hormones of yesteryear, making Jess clench her very-sore teeth. She wanted a kiss. Lots of them. From Jeremy Baker. But from what she knew of him, he didn’t like to chat with too many parents. He liked to giggle with the girls, maybe play with her hair, and Jess had spent too many nights wondering what it would feel like to be swept up in his shop-class muscled arms. She turned away before her warming face turned tell-tale red.

You’re a beautiful girl, Jess. I don’t know why you come down so hard on yourself. Your friends have told me they’d kill to have hair like yours.

She grabbed a lock and pulled it up for inspection. She did have nice hair. Reddish-gold. Thick and full and down to her waist. Just red enough to make her hateful freckles dance across her nose every time she tried to enjoy the sun. Great. Now even my friends want me dead.

Anna chuckled and came up behind her, holding her shoulders and placing a kiss on the back of her head. Despite her theatrics, Jess leaned back against her mom and accepted the wrap-around hug as she glared out the window. Outside, everything was in full bloom, unlike her love life, which stagnated like the blustery winter that just finally ended. I’m never going to get a date for the prom. A dreaded tear leaked out as the futility of the situation loomed. Six weeks left, and no one had asked.

Anna spun her around. Tell you what. If you don’t get a date, I’ll still buy you the most shimmery emerald green gown I can find, and we’ll go to Uncle Ollie’s ball that night. Okay?

She screwed up a lip in reply. A geezer ball?

Anna chuckled. Yes, and now he’s gone and married some young little thing who will probably take him for everything he’s got. A shadow of anger crossed Anna’s face, making Jess study her mother. Uncle Ollie was the beloved best friend of Grandpa, Anna’s late father, richer than the day was long, and to this day still a fantastic and involved parental figure for her family. And apparently, Anna still felt the loss of her dad even nine years later.

The comment made her frown. What do you mean?

Now her mom looked really angry, and she went to the window and grabbed the sill as she glared at the budding trees. She doesn’t love Ollie, just his cash. She’s a conniving little gold-digger, and he never should have gotten tangled up with her. She shook her head and whispered, She doesn’t love him. He deserves so much better.

It was a side of her mom she’d never seen. She knew her parents loved each other—it was kind of gross, actually—but she never realized how deeply her mom loved Uncle Ollie until just this moment, watching her mom’s temple brush the windowsill and her finger trace the mullions.

You really like Uncle Ollie.

He’s family, Jess. The look wavered between cautionary and incredulity. I’ve known him my whole life, as have you. He’s always been there for us, whenever we’ve needed him. I love him as much as I did my own father, and Ollie loves us like the family he never had.

But then Anna tossed back her shoulder-length curls and shrugged and forced a smile. He’s throwing the ball in honor of my new job.

Jess rolled her eyes and stomped away.

Six weeks flew by, and here Jessalyn stood, the proverbial wall-flower she swore she would never become. But these weren’t people her age; they were stuffy aristocratic fake shells of people who couldn’t deign to be seen conversing with someone whose net worth was anything less than two point one mil. So here she stood, in the outskirts of Pelham, New Hampshire, literally in the middle of Peabody Town Forest, holding the wall in place, watching as the quadrille played across the ballroom in equal measures of black, white, and peacock pomp. She studied the ornate piece of furniture holding a giant vase of calla lilies and tried to forget that she’d never once danced with a man.

It’s French Rococo, mid seventeen hundreds.

Jess gasped at the English voice at her shoulder and spun around, feeling the breath crackle and freeze in her lungs as she faced a young man about her age. His eyes were chocolate brown, and dark brown hair seemed a bit tousled atop his head. His eyes were nicely spaced, and the look of sharp intelligence shone within them. She checked her emerald Empire waist gown, pushed up her glasses, touched her face to make sure she hadn’t done anything stupid. Really, this guy was that gorgeous. I, um, what is?

This sideboard. It’s from Louis XV period. The marble was custom-made and imported from Italy after this was purchased. He leaned over and traced one of the golden scrolls painted across the front. See how asymmetrically this is done? And the leaves, they’re called acanthus. Very common gild on Rococo furniture.

The lilt and cadence of his voice mesmerized her, putting her in mind of ancient castles and knights in shining armor. As his words sunk in, she frowned a bit at him. Are you into antiques? He’d look fine in armor; she was sure of it.

He almost rolled his eyes. At first, no, but now I wouldn’t own anything else. A few years ago I was forced to learn all about the different styles of furniture through the ages as part of my ‘cultural upbringing.’ I was told it would make me a better conversationalist. His eyes twinkled as he asked, Is it working?

Dang, he was cute. A little.

They shared a secret grin, making Jess feel so warm and tingly she had to turn away. This party sucks.

Yeah. Sorry.

She drew in her breath when she realized she offended him. I didn’t, that is, what I meant was— The balloon of opportunity deflated, making pbbbffttt noises as it zoomed all around inside her.

It’s all right. Uncle Ollie forgets that people our age get bored. What can I say? He’s never had children to entertain.

Uncle? Is he really your uncle?

Yes, he is. And he’s been a better father to me than my own. He eyed her. Are... we related?

The balloon filled straight up with helium, making Jess stand tall. Nope. He was Grandpa’s best friend. Spoiled us throughout our childhoods. She stuck out an awkwardly rigid arm for him to shake her hand. I’m Jessalyn.

Her name elicited an, Oh, yes. Jessalyn. But he didn’t shake her hand. He took her fingers in his own and bowed over them. He bowed. Like an English knight. Those latex balloons flopped down to her knees, giving no support in their rubbery state. Darius. A pleasure to meet such a pretty lass. He stood up and she watched his lips twitch. Especially one I’m finally not related to, no matter how many times removed.

She crooked a grin at him, sinking into those dark brown eyes and those waves of hair reminding her of the damp sand dunes on the warm beach of Good Harbor last summer. She could collect fistfuls of it and never let go.

Maybe he’d kiss her then.

He’d have to.

I don’t always feel pretty. She pointed to her mouth.

An investment in your future. Darius offered her his elbow, and, feeling more self-conscious than ever, Jess wrapped her fingers underneath the way she had seen the miles of models doing all night.

Darius smiled down at her and placed his warm hand over her suddenly-cold fingers. There’s a telescope outside. Have you ever seen Jupiter?

Muted by his touch, she could only shake her head.

Great. Let’s find your parents, and make sure they don’t mind me taking you outside. After all, he waggled his brows at her, I’ve heard they’re both armed.

And Jessalyn knew that she would remember this night for the rest of her life.

The cobbled path was lined with ambient light and long swags of ankle-high black chain. Flower beds turned their faces towards the soft glowing orbs, offering pools of blue and yellow warmth between them and the inky looming hedgerow.

It’s up in this clearing. Right there, can you see the top of it?

Darius pulled her so close to his side their temples touched. But, true to his word, the telescope poked through the circular hedges, aimed at the strikingly clear sky. Oh. Was that it? Was that the extent of her vernacular? What was wrong with her?

Darius released her fingers and began playing with the knobs on the telescope, swinging the unit around and tinkering until he finally called her over. Sorry, I haven’t used this in a long time. Come. It’s right here.

One large unblinking star seemed to dominate the sky, and Jess fumbled with the scope until she could see it. Wow, this is gorgeous.

I’m glad you like it. Would you care to see the North star? Or Andromeda? Or Pleiades?

How about Venus? She grinned. And maybe after that, you can teach me more about furniture.

A trio of wandering minstrels with violins stopped in the middle of the clearing, their tune the same as the one emanating from the house in the distance. Jess watched with longing as two couples came off hidden benches and waltzed across the lawn.

Do you dance?

Not formal, never. She pushed up her glasses.

The bedazzling grin she received almost knocked her off her feet. Then, may I have this dance?

How could she refuse? His tuxedo shirt blazed a white column between his black double-breasted jacket, giving her a beacon to step near. She noticed a streak of dirt and wondered what he had been doing to get soiled. Arms outstretched, Darius collected her and placed her hand on his shoulder.

It was a very nice strong shoulder.

Pbbbfffffttttt.

Right back down to her knees.

Whispered words in her ear only made Jess’ gulp seem even louder as Darius drew her close to him, counting for her benefit, One, two, three. One, two, three.

A few turns later, Jess squeaked out, Am I waltzing?

Beautifully.

She closed her eyes, embracing the chicken-skin poking out all over her arms as his continued counting tickled the hair nearest her ears. His fingers splayed along her back, drawing her nearer.

Then his cheek pressed along hers.

And when he stopped and leaned back, Jess opened her eyes, heart racing as he smiled and bent and almost touched his lips to hers.

Time stood still as she stretched that last impossible, wonderful, agonizing inch to seal the kiss.

Pfffffbbbbbttttt.

It was the sweetest, most exciting, most memorable, romantic moment of her entire life.

You are adorable, Jessalyn. I have never had such an enjoyable time at a ball.

Me either sounded lame. Thank you sounded arrogant. She pushed up her glasses and opted with, You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met.

Instead of pleasing him, something hard snapped into place. Don’t let my father hear that. He thinks I should be tough and unforgiving like him. But I’m not.

She blinked at his vehemence, snapped taller. No?

No. I never want to be like him. His eyes softened, and she watched him take a deep breath, kind of center himself. I never want...he’s just.... she watched his chest heave once more, and his expression turned serene, calm.

Wow, she whispered. I’ve never seen anyone do that.

Do what?

She shifted, shoved her glasses up her nose again. It’s like you’re controlled. No, I don’t like that word, it’s too mean. It’s like...I don’t know, like you’re really disciplined. In a good way. Like you don’t get rattled.

He crooked the cutest grin at her. Oh, I get rattled all right. He winked and continued, Especially right now.

Did he mean with her? A full-body ripple tripped down her, from her shoulders to her toes.

But I have a fantastic mentor helping me center my emotions, store them for better times. He kind of shrugged. I don’t know, sometimes I think he’s wacko, with all his Zen/ Buddha/spirituality hoopla, but other times I think it really helps me get through the day.

I’ve never met anyone able to do that, just...suck it all in, like it never happened.

Just when she thought he couldn’t possibly get any cuter, he cocked his head at her. You like it? That I can control my emotions like that?

She gave one long, slow nod and squeezed his shoulder, where she hadn’t yet let go. A lot.

Even if I had to learn to do it because my father is the most miserable person on the planet?

She smiled, enjoying how he joked with her. I like you just the way you are.

The veneer of his face softened. Come. He collected her hand in his. I don’t want your parents to come looking for us. I’ll show you around. Do you know I spend my summers here?

Three minutes later found them back inside, Jess being given her own personal tour of the foyer, ballroom, game room, music room and library, craving and devouring each minute with Darius and his boundless knowledge of European antiques.

I’ve never seen anything like these pieces before. None of my friends have anything like this, and certainly no one in my family.

Yeah, he kind of blushed a bit, she thought. I was always told this belonged to the upper echelon of society.

She thought that was a weird kind of compliment to Ollie but said nothing about it. I just think stuff like this should be shared. I know if I had something this beautiful, I would want all my friends to see it.

I can hear Ollie having a heart-attack at the very thought, he joked. Or, more likely, my father.

No, really. Jess touched his arm. I know rich people like expensive things, but some of these should almost be in a museum, they’re so beautiful. She eyed a gilt-edged mirror. I’ll be the first to admit I know nothing about how things age, but some of these look so perfect and untouched that they should be someplace where people would want to use them.

Things don’t need to be used to be appreciated, Jessalyn.

His words were very soft. Just knowing something is in a safe place can be enough.

I still think Ollie should sell off some of these, just to get them back out in the public eye. These are gorgeous. More people should be able to own them.

He studied her face the whole time she spoke. You really feel strongly about this, don’t you?

She shoved up her glasses. Well, yeah.

Unfortunately, I can promise you that will never happen. Ollie loves his belongings and takes great pride in them. He wouldn’t sell them off, I guarantee it.

Jess felt her lips settle into a thin line.

Darius scrubbed her arms and smiled. The upper bedrooms are styled mostly in Victorian, very fussy and highly ornamented. And this is English rosewood they used, not American walnut. Would you care to see them?

I’d love to see them. Did she just sigh? She honestly didn’t know which was better— learning about these gorgeous pieces of furniture or being taught them by a gorgeous guy.

So they had a slight difference of opinion about possessions; how important was that, in the long run?

There really was no down side to this night.

She paused at the Eastlake chair at the foot of the stairs, smiling that she had already learned the style. She pointed to it and said, You’re a really good teacher, you know that?

He made a face at her. The last thing I’d want to be in life is a teacher. What if I had a roomful of students like me? He shivered, and Jess laughed.

Well, maybe you should be an instructor, then. I could see you teaching people. I bet you’d be great at it.

You think?

I know.

She loved the appreciative smile he gave her. Follow me, he quipped, grabbing her hand as they headed for the stairs.

Behind them they heard, Darius, where are you going?

Jess stopped as Darius turned around and faced a hard and handsome man who was obviously his father. They shared the same eyes, same sun-kissed beach hair and square jaw. But the resemblances ended there. Jess could see that he would be taller when he finished growing, that his frame was lithe, not stocky, and that, while both gazes showed intelligence, the one belonging to Darius tempered to gentleness. Under her fingers, she felt Darius tense. I’m giving Jess a tour of the rooms and teaching her about the furniture.

Based on his tenseness, Jess decided to offer some back-up. It’s true. I’ve learned about Rococo, French Empire, Federal, Queen Ann and Neoclassical. I’ve even learned how to recognize a Chippendale chair.

The older version of Darius sniffed down at her. Young lady, in our realm, we do not speak to nobility unless addressed. You are obviously a commoner and should not be mingling with the young Baron of Insley. Then he turned to his son. You know better than to take up with a girl of no worth. Were you headed up to the bedrooms? What if someone saw you? With her? How would you avoid the scandal? He yanked Darius out from under her arm. Good evening, miss. Darius, say your goodbyes to our host. We’re leaving.

She managed to touch his outstretched fingers before he was dragged off and swallowed by the crush of attendees. He turned once, twice, each time his eyes agonizing and flashing angry looks at his father’s back.

And then he was...gone.

The sea of people undulated like cold waves, and her fingers felt icy now that Darius no longer held them.

A girl of no worth.

Jess forgot to breathe.

And when she did gulp a lungful of air, the realization hit her. Darius would never be allowed to date her. Sweet, perfect, gorgeous, intelligent Darius was nobility. She was worthless.

His own miserable father even said so.

A girl of no worth.

She didn’t know which hurt more— the words of a stuffy aristocrat or the thought of never seeing Darius again.

She tried to swallow around the hard rock in her throat as the sea of people around her became blurry. She dabbed her runny nose, then felt her chest constrict. Her cheek felt wet. Jess wiped it and found a tear.

More were on the way, she could tell.

A caterer nudged her elbow, indicated a tray of lemonade. Would you like some, miss?

She backed away, shaking her head, and said something that sounded like, Nemonade, before running off like Cinderella at midnight.

A million miles separated her from the front door, along with a million people who seemed intent on blocking her way. Vaguely she registered how many elbows she bumped and drinks she spilled as she slalomed her way across the ballroom floor.

Fresh air assaulted her as she burst through the door to find the family car. Rivulets of pain and anguish painted her cheeks with their moisture, making her journey more difficult, more imperative.

Five interminable minutes later, Jess yanked her way inside their empty parked car. She managed three shaky breaths before the flood gates opened to a torrent of uncontrollable tears.

Chapter 1

Papers cluttered the corner of Jessalyn’s work desk, including the $2900 rent check she hadn’t yet written. The Manchester Gazette lay sprawled and opened to the obits, and she dropped her pen after circling a critical entry. She reached for the phone and dialed the Baker Funeral Home. When the line picked up, Jess said, Hey, Mary, it’s Jess, at Phoenix Furniture. Is Jeremy around? Sure, I’ll hold.

Jeremy picked up after a few seconds, Hey, my favorite darling. What’s up?

She almost smiled as she recalled how she used to pray for such a welcome from him, but today her mission intervened. I just learned the Rettenburg’s lost their dear aunt Lottie. You know anything about this? She let her voice waver, giving Jeremy the chance to spill any of his beloved gossip.

She could see him hunching over the phone as his nasally voice pitched to a whisper. That little hussy is putting the whole shebang up for auction. Boop! All gone. She’s a nasty one, darling. Watch out for her. And he made a hissing sound.

Heart racing, Jess leaned over her phone as well. You gotta get me in there, Jer-Bear. She has a Bombay chest that was in the local paper ten years ago. It’s perfect. You hear?

Darling, you know you’re closest to my heart. If I can’t sway them to you, it’s because little Jasmine is nothing more than a stinky, rotten flower.

That comment satisfied Jess. She leaned back in her chair, almost tasting the gild on that rounded bulbous chest of drawers. The sale of that alone would make a huge dent in her zoo contributions. You da bomb, Jer.

I know, Cookie. And he hung up.

A wide grin eased her tension. She clicked the button and started to dial Duncan with the news when Faith stuck her head in the office. Was that Jeremy?

Jess cradled the receiver. Yeah. He’s going to sway the Rettenburg heiress to sell with us.

Young Faith made no reply, but she leaned her shoulder against the doorway and drifted off to a happier place. Jeremy is so hot. And single. And your best friend. Why haven’t you two ever dated? You obviously like each other.

Stunned, Jess could only stare at the shadow of her youth. You really don’t know?

That caught Faith’s attention. But only long enough to prosecute. He’s gorgeous. Are you blind?

She chuckled. Are you?

Faith frowned.

He’s gay. Has been living with Robert for four years. She leaned back in her chair. Then they went to Hawaii last winter to get married.

All hope fell from those young cheeks. Really?

Jer and Robert are a married couple.

Faith looked like she wanted to cry, so Jess leaned forward to share. You’re right, though. I did have a wild crush on him. Must have been eleven...twelve years ago.... She thought back. Eleven. I was fifteen. Thought he was the hottest thing on two legs. All muscled up in shop class. Turns out he was man-shopping, too.

Yeah, the tears gathered in Faith’s eyes, so Jess offered some classic diversion tactics. You need something?

No, I just heard you talking to Jeremy.

So Jess cradled the antique phone and opened a cabinet— the one converted from a 20’s radio. She gathered the shopping basket of cleaning supplies and a stack of lint-free towels to hand to her young protégé. You have much to learn, young paduwan. Go forth and clean the Chippendale dining room set. I noticed dust yesterday.

Apparently Faith forgot what to do with a feather duster, cotton cloths, and orange oil, because she stared at the blue wicker basket and frowned. What’s a paduwan?

Star Wars term for a novitiate.

Oh. What’s a novitiate?

Jess felt her smile cross her face. Novice. Beginner. Speaking of... she went to her door and pointed to the back room, where new arrivals got cleaned up and prepped for the showroom floor. The seventeenth century French armoire is filled with coffee grounds and rice. It just needs to be vacuumed out. Then, would you let me know if the mothball smell is gone?

The look on Faith’s face displayed her thoughts of her boss’ sanity. I swear you just make this stuff up.

Jess laughed at her expression. If it didn’t work, I wouldn’t do it. Away with you.

Faith left chuckling, making Jess grin at the basis of their conversation. Jeremy still knew how to turn heads, even when he acted reserved and not flamboyant.

Her antique phone rang— her own personal bat-line. She nabbed it. Hello?

Jess, it’s Duncan.

I was just going to call you.

Yeah?

She sat down. What’s up?

We got Rettenberg’s.

Somehow she was standing. We did? Already? That’s great. How?

My aunt was her next-door neighbor. I told her how important this estate is to our business, so Auntie Fran had little vengeful Jasmine over for tea.

Collapsing, Jess tossed her head over the chair back and laughed. Duncan, I. Love. You. You’re getting an extra percentage straight off the top.

She heard his breath catch.

And a turkey for Thanksgiving.

And catch again. Then, How about a trip to the Caribbean?

Don’t push it.

He chuckled. Listen. I’m calling about the Covington estate.

Something in Duncan’s tone froze the air in Jess’ lungs. What about it?

Well.... she could hear him hedging. I took a call at closing last night after you left. There’s some trouble with disbursement of the household furnishings.

What? Jess took her yell down to a more controlled volume. I’m sorry, Duncan. I didn’t mean to shout. What do you mean? We secured that estate two weeks ago.

Me, too. Only, someone named Beauregard claims it’s his inheritance.

That was Ollie’s miserable brother; her gnashing teeth told her so. Bullsh— she caught herself. "That’s bunk and we all know it. Ollie was an honorary grandpa to me, and we were all there when he changed his Will. He flat out told me his estate would