Legacy of Love Page 5

  “Yeah, that makes sense.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Ready for tonight?”

  “Pretty much. If I can just get these vendors to make their deliveries, I’d be fine.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will. Oh, if you can call the security company and make sure that everything is taken care of, confirm how many people they are giving us, and if they can cover the front of the building as well. We’re expecting a big crowd this evening and I don’t want any mishaps.”

  “No problem.”

  “Thanks.”

  Linda appeared at the door just as Mike turned to leave.

  They muttered their apologies and made a mess of stepping around each other. Zoe tried not to laugh. Those two just needed to get together and call it a day.

  “Yes, Linda.”

  Linda Gilmore was what her aunties would call “bright-skinned.” Back in the day she could have probably passed. Her light brown eyes were sometimes green depending on the weather and her mood. Her sleek hair hung in light waves around her shoulders framing a nearly perfectly oval face. She was a Pilates devotee and it showed in her long, lean body. And she was smart. Linda was definitely the whole package. Too bad Mike didn’t see it.

  “There’s a reporter here from one of the local papers. He wants to speak with you.”

  “This early? The museum isn’t even open.”

  “Guess he wanted to get a scoop. What do you want me to tell him?”

  “I’ll come out and talk to him. Thanks.”

  They exited Zoe’s office and walked down the corridor together.

  “You feeling a little better?” Zoe asked.

  Linda’s cheeks flushed. “I’m good.” She gave a tight-lipped smiled.

  Zoe stopped and gently clasped Linda’s arm. “Listen, whatever it is that is going on or not going on between you and Mike has got to stop. It’s interfering with work, with scheduling, other staff members and I can’t have that. We’re all adults here and this can’t be the place for drama. I don’t want some other staffers to complain to human resources. Then we will really have a problem and it’ll be out of my hands.”

  Linda started to protest. Zoe held up her hand.

  “I’m not saying it’s all you. I’ve told Mike pretty much the same thing, too. Both of you are important members of this team. But I’m going to have to think of some other alternative if we can’t find a compromise.”

  Linda’s lips pinched and her eyes filled with water. “You know what it’s like to love someone and they don’t even see you?” she blurted out then turned her head away. “I’m sorry.” Linda pulled away and walked off.

  Zoe stood there for several moments. This whole love thing was totally overrated, she thought. Is this what was in store for her? If so, she didn’t want any parts of it—legacy or not. She turned down the corridor toward the entrance to meet the reporter.

  Her heels clicked with precision against the marble floors. The young reporter was seated on a bench under a piece of art from Ghana, Zoe’s ancestor’s homeland. It was one of her favorites, with its vibrant colorful beading depicting a small village at night set against the backdrop of towering mountains and greenery. She extended her hand as she approached.

  “I’m Zoe Beaumont. How can I help you?”

  The young man stood. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, Zoe surmised. He shook her hand.

  “Gabe Weston from The Eagle. Thank you for seeing me.”

  “You do know that the exhibit doesn’t open until tonight.”

  “Yes, but I was hoping to get a jump on the competition,” he said, flashing a killer smile.

  Zoe’s right brow arched. She held back a grin. “Really? Well, other than the catalogues that everyone else is getting, I’m not sure what I can offer you.”

  “I was hoping you would allow me to ask a few questions.”

  “You want to interview me?”

  “Yes. It will only take five minutes. I promise.”

  Zoe looked around then focused back on him. “Sure. Five minutes.” She sat down on the bench and he pulled out a tape recorder and sat beside her.

  “I have what I need about the statues. What I want to know from you is why was it important to bring them here?”

  “As a curator you are always searching for pieces that will bring in visitors and provide them with the opportunity to experience treasures from around the world. I spend a great deal of my time looking for pieces of art and sculptures. Of course it brings a great deal of prestige and exposure to the museum to house one-of-a-kind pieces and artifacts.”

  “And how do you make your decisions?”

  She smiled. “My passion, and the budget.”

  He laughed.

  “Speaking of budgets, the arts are always hit hardest during any economic downturns. How has the economy affected the museum?”

  Zoe blew out a breath. “It’s certainly been difficult. Part of what I do is write grants, try to get corporate sponsors and museum patrons to help, and tonight’s event is also a fundraiser. Those things help to offset some of the costs, but not all of them.”

  “What do you want readers to know?”

  She was thoughtful for a moment. “Museums are home to countless treasures. They are not only a source of entertainment and knowledge, but also enlightenment about culture and art. They tell so many stories that would be otherwise lost. They are places where the average person can travel to any corner of the world and learn its history.”

  “How long did it take you to get the statues here?”

  “It was a long process. Almost two years.”

  “Do you believe the stories about the statues?”

  “It’s not for me to believe or disbelieve, just to present and let the visitors decide for themselves. Everyone who comes here or to any museum takes away something.”

  “Well, if there is a mini baby-boom in the next year, I guess Atlanta might have you to thank. If you believe in that kind of stuff.”

  Zoe stood. “I really have to get back to work. I have a full day.”

  He turned off the tape recorder and stood. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Beaumont.”

  “Will you be here tonight?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ll make sure you get some good photos.”

  “Thanks. I’d really appreciate that.”

  “Security will see you out.”

  “Thanks again.”

  Zoe nodded, turned away and headed back toward her office. About halfway there, she took a detour and took the elevator downstairs to where the statues were still under wraps.

  Several members of the maintenance team were unloading crates when she came in. She walked through the cavernous space among the paintings and sculptures, boxes and crates until she reached the room where the statues were being held. She punched in the security code on the panel and the door buzzed open.

  The instant she walked in the room, her skin began to tingle and the scent—his scent wrapped around her. She drew in a long, deep breath and her heart began to race. She gripped the head of the female statue to keep from falling and what seemed like a spark of electricity shot through her arm. She jerked her hand away and backed out of the room, practically running all the way to her office.

  Chapter 7

  After his last class, Jackson went home to shower and change, and grab a quick bite to eat. He’d been to his share of receptions, and food wasn’t high on the list of reasons to attend. He barely had two hours to get ready and back to campus. He pulled up in front of his building and noticed someone sitting on his front steps. Victoria. What the… Something told him to keep on driving, but time was not on his side. He had a bad feeling.

  He pulled into his driveway, shut off the engine and willed himself to be calm. How did she even know where he lived? Reluctantly he got out and slowly approached. Victoria stood.

  “I know I shouldn’t be here,” she said before he could get a word out.
“But I had to see you.”

  Jackson took a quick look around. “Victoria, this is not cool. Whatever you need to talk to me about we can do on campus or during my office hours.”

  “I know. But…please listen.” She took a step forward and reached a hand toward his chest.

  Jackson eased back and gave them some distance. “I’m listening.”

  Victoria lowered her arm. “I wanted to tell you the real reason why I stopped working as your assistant.”

  “Okay. What was the reason?”

  “Some people who you think are in your corner aren’t.”

  Jackson let out a breath of frustration. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re up for chair of your department.”

  “Yes,” he said with a hint of caution in his voice.

  “There are some people that don’t want you to have it.”

  He frowned. “And you know this how?”

  “It was no accident that I got assigned to you or that I petitioned so hard for the spot.”

  “What exactly are you trying to tell me, Victoria?”

  “Professor Treme, no matter what you do, you won’t get that position. My real job was to spy on you, to pass along information about you and your research.”

  “To whom?”

  “I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is to watch your back. Everyone is not who they make themselves out to be. I like you, professor. I think that you’re an incredible teacher and I just couldn’t be a part of it anymore. And please, don’t tell anyone I told you this. I’m putting in for a transfer for next semester. But if they found out that I said anything. I have a lot on the line, too.”

  “I…don’t know what to say. This is crazy.”

  “I’ve got to go.” She started off.

  “Victoria…wait.”

  She stopped and turned.

  “Thank you.”

  She gave him a half smile and hurried toward her beige Honda that was parked at the curb.

  Jackson watched her drive away, almost rooted to the spot. He shook his head. It didn’t make sense. Why go through all that trouble? Better yet, who would go through all that trouble?

  His cell phone rang shaking him out of his troubling thoughts. He pulled the phone from his pocket. Levi’s number lit up the digital face. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to let you know that I’ll probably meet you at the museum. I got kind of tied up.” He chuckled.

  “Hmm, okay.”

  “See you later.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Hey, everything cool?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said absently, as Victoria’s warning played in his head. Everyone is not who they make themselves out to be. Did that include Levi? “I’m just walking into my place,” he added. “Gotta get a move on.”

  “Cool. See you later.”

  “Sure. Later.” He disconnected the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He checked his mailbox, took out three bills then stuck the key into the lock of his front door and opened it.

  He set his briefcase down on the console table in the entry hallway and went into the kitchen to see what he could throw together quickly. He washed his hands at the sink then searched through the fridge. He had some leftover chicken and decided to make himself a sandwich, which he took upstairs.

  Between bites he undressed and took a shower. The conversation with Victoria was still playing in his head. Who was she talking about?

  He stepped out of the shower and into his bedroom. He barely had an hour left before he had to meet the students. Opening his closet door, he took out his black shirt and black slacks. The temperature was in the high eighties, but he planned to wear a jacket anyway. He took his sports jacket out and put everything on the bed and started to get dressed just as the doorbell rang.

  “Now what?” He wasn’t up for any more surprises. He pulled on his pants and shoved his arms in his shirt and went downstairs to the door and pulled it open. “Michelle! What in the world…?”

  “I know I should have called…”

  His surprise shifted to alarm when he focused on her stricken expression then to his niece, Shay, who stood at her side. He scooped up his five-year-old niece. “Hey, sweetie.” He glanced at his sister over Shay’s head, put his arm around Michelle’s shoulder and ushered her inside.

  Jackson set his niece down then stooped down to her level. “Look how big you are.”

  She giggled. “We came to visit, Uncle Jack.”

  “So I see. And I’m glad you’re here. I was getting lonely for my favorite niece.” He grinned and kissed her head.

  Shay spotted his giant television. “Can I watch Dora the Explorer? Please, Uncle Jack.”

  “Sure, sweetie.” He turned on the television, surfed to the channel guide and found the cartoon.

  Shay settled back on the couch and within moments was totally engrossed in her favorite show.

  Jackson turned to Michelle. “Let’s go in the kitchen,” he said softly. She followed him. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Some water or juice will be fine,” she said, her voice sounding hollow. She lowered herself into the chair at the table.

  Jackson opened the fridge and took out a container of apple juice and poured her a glass. He set it in front of her and sat down. “What happened, Mikki?”

  She blinked rapidly to hold back the tears she’d kept at bay during the hours-long drive from New Orleans. “I left him.”

  “What?” He lurched forward. “Travis? What in the world happened?”

  “I came home…early yesterday. I wasn’t feeling well and…”

  Jackson’s pulse started to pound. Don’t let her say what I think she’s going to say.

  “He…she…he was in bed with Carla.”

  Time froze and the room seemed to vibrate. What she’d said didn’t make sense. Carla and Travis? “Michelle…he was with Carla?”

  She nodded silently and then the tears came in a downpour, silent and loud all at once. And Jackson felt every iota of her heartache twist and turn inside of him.

  He came around the table, knelt beside her and gathered her in his arms. “Let it out,” he encouraged. “I’m here. It’s going to be all right.”

  “I had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t stay there in that house where they…”

  He gently stroked her back. “It’s okay. My home is yours and Shay’s for as long as you need it.” He held her tighter, trying to put the horrible scenario together in his head. His thoughts spun out of control. Travis and Carla—his ex…

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. “How could he do this to me? How?” Deep wracking sobs shook her body. “And Carla…”

  All Jackson could see was red. He was going to hurt Travis. He was going to pay.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

  Jackson’s head jerked up. Michelle swiped at her eyes and forced a smile on her face before she turned around.

  “Nothing, baby. I’m just tired from that long drive.” She swallowed and sniffed.

  Shay stood in the doorway, her innocent brown eyes looking from her mother to her uncle.

  “Why don’t you go up and rest for a while, I’ll get Shay something to eat.”

  Michelle rushed to her feet. “I’ll be right upstairs if you need me,” she said, her voice still shaky. She stroked Shay’s braids and walked out looking as if she’d aged ten years.

  “Mommy’s sad,” Shay said.

  “A little bit. But she will be fine.”

  “I don’t like it when Mommy’s sad.”

  “I know, sweetheart. Neither do I. So that’s why you have to be extra sweet to her until she feels better. Okay?”

  Shay bobbed her head.

  “Now,” he said lifting her up and bracing her on his hip. “What would you like?”

  “Ice cream!”

  Jackson chuckled. “Ice cream it is.”

  Once Jackson had gotten Shay settled, he went upstairs to che
ck on his sister. He found her curled in a tight knot in the center of the guestroom bed. He sat down on the side.

  Michelle opened her eyes, which were now red and swollen. “I must look a mess,” she murmured and pushed her hair away from her face. She focused on her brother. “You’re dressed to go out.” She sat up. “Jack, I didn’t even realize… I just came barging in…”

  “Mikki, take it easy. It’s okay. Relax. It’s the opening at the museum that I was telling you about. I’m taking my class. But I can call my assistant…” He remembered he didn’t have an assistant anymore. “I can make some calls and tell them to go on without me.”

  “No, absolutely not! Shay and I will be fine.”

  “Look, why don’t I take Shay with me so that you can get some rest?”

  She was pensive for a moment. “Are you sure? You know how wound up she can get sometimes.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine.”

  “At least let me clean her up and change her clothes.” She scooted off the bed.

  “Michelle…”

  She turned.

  “It’s going to be all right. Understand?”

  She nodded and hurried out.

  Jackson stood in the center of the room. Rage burned inside him. It took all of his willpower not to jump in his car and head straight to New Orleans. However, he had to think of his sister and his niece first. But Travis was going to pay.

  Chapter 8

  Jackson and twenty-five of his students stood in the long line to enter the museum. Twilight was approaching and the spotlights that moved in slow arcs above and around the buildings gave the evening a real Hollywood feel.

  The arriving crowd was dressed for a major opening, in business suits and gowns to sparkling jewelry and tuxedos. Jackson was glad he’d decided on the jacket even though he’d decided not to wear a tie.

  “This is a pretty big deal, huh, Professor Treme?” one of his students commented while adjusting his tie.

  “Looks that way.”

  “Will we be able to take pictures?” another young lady asked him.

  “I’m not sure. They’ll let us know once we get inside.”