The Forbidden Brother

“Not all sons,” he said absently. “Can you give me an appraisal for tax purposes? Not just of these, but of all he did?”

Laura nodded slowly. She could do a formal appraisal. She’d done it before and her credentials gave her the expertise to be accepted by the IRS. However, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She was trying to forget Jordan, move on with her life. What would being surrounded by his work, visiting the cottage where she’d been so happy and so devastated, do to her equilibrium?

“I’m heading to his cottage next. How many canvasses will I find there?”

“Lots. I never inventoried or counted. He has them stacked against the walls of his studio.”

Jed glanced at his watch. “Have you had lunch yet?”

Surprised at the question she shook her head.

“Come eat with me and tell me what I need to know about art and how it’s appraised and how much it’ll cost and how long the appraisal process will take,” Jed said—ordered more like.

“There’re other appraisers around. Maybe you should get one of them.” She didn’t want to go back to the cottage.

“Conflict of interest?”

“I would give you an honest assessment. But you might wish for someone else.” Would she truly give a reliable, unbiased appraisal or would the hurt and anguish of the last few months color her opinions? No, where art was concerned, nothing stood in the way of her honest and forthright opinion.

“You know his work. You’d be best.”

Jed’s attention focused on her. Those dark eyes seemed to peer deep into her innermost part. Her breath caught for a moment. She felt a warmth and curiosity that surprised her. What was there about this man that caught her unaware? He was grieving for his brother. That should give them a common bond. She grieved for Jordan’s death. And for the lost love she’d so happily embraced.

Laura blinked. She could almost feel the energy radiating from Jed. The focus on her was unsettling. He was not at all like Jordan despite his looks. She’d do well not to confuse the two just because they looked identical.

“I’m not really keen on that kind of work,” she said, stalling. She didn’t want to spend any more time with Jed Brodie than absolutely necessary. Or with the bittersweet memories of Jordan when he first began courting her.

“But you know art values.”

She nodded.

“You don’t want my folks to know everything is worthless, is that it? They’ll blame you if you don’t appraise it high? And that would damage your relationship,” Jed guessed.

She shook her head. “I never said Jordan’s paintings are worthless. They are not up to your mother’s work. She thinks he was tremendously talented. I hate to be the one to disappoint her. I like your mother.”

“Don’t worry about Mom. Where art is concerned, she’s totally honest.”

Laura was trying to gradually pull back from Maria and Jefferson and their grief. She longed for the business relationship she’d enjoyed when Hugo was still alive and running the gallery. Before Jordan had swept her off her feet. Before things had gone so wrong and emotions and relationships became tangled.

She studied the man in front of her another minute. He looked so much like Jordan she had to keep reminding herself he wasn’t. If he kept looking at her, she’d forget business decorum and reach out to touch him. Once burned, twice shy was the old saying. She needed to be more cautious in her personal life from now on. Not take at face value words designed to convince her she was special. This man was yummy to look at, but was he any different from his brother on the inside?

“It’s only lunch,” he said, amusement creeping into his eyes.

Her bones felt as though they were melting. That look was captivating. She turned away, trying to get control of herself. This was not Jordan. And if he were, she’d be furious with him.

“Come and fill me in. We can visit the cottage afterward and you can give me an estimate on time and cost for an appraisal.” His tone was almost cajoling. Maybe he also had some of that charm that Jordan displayed.

She needed to think this through. On the one hand, it was merely business. She could assess the paintings, do a written report and add some much needed funds to the coffers. She could handle that.

On the other hand, the man was a constant, vivid reminder of Jordan. Her emotions were still in turmoil. Could she forget the past and do the work without some emotional cost? And without becoming infatuated with the spitting image of the man she’d loved until three months ago?

She turned toward the door. “I need to get my purse and let Heather know I’ll be gone for lunch. But I can’t go to the cottage this afternoon, I have an appointment at two.” She would take this one step at a time. If she could manage lunch with Jed, it would give her an idea of how working with him might be.

“So we’ll discuss when you can schedule the appraisal over lunch. Get your purse, I want to look at the rest of these paintings.” He turned his attention back to the canvasses stacked in the rack.

Laura had a feeling she was making a mistake. She still held the envelope he’d given her. Maybe she could quickly read through the papers to make sure Jed was who he said he was. She couldn’t imagine agreeing to his demands and finding out later it was all false.

As she walked through the display area to return to her office, she was pleased to notice several people browsing. Heather stood by attentively, yet let them gaze at whatever they wanted without interrupting them. The gallery was located right on Harbor Street, the main thoroughfare of Miragansett. The colorful historic town was a tourist mecca in the summer months. Hugo had opened the gallery decades ago, before the current interest in old getaways swept the monied set. It was the best location in town.

Once inside her office, Laura opened the envelope. Inside was a copy of Jordan’s will. She had not been at the reading as he had left her nothing having written the will long before he met her. She’d been surprised a man that young even had a will. It was short and to the point—he requested his estate be liquidated and the money divided between his parents and his brother, except for whatever paintings of mine my brother Jed wants. He’d appointed Jed as executor.

“Probably because he’s the only one in the family who isn’t the artistic type,” she murmured.

The letter from the attorney outlined his duties and authority. Jed Brodie was the man to deal with, not Maria or Jefferson. And even if they wished to keep the paintings, they couldn’t. They’d have to purchase them from the estate. How ironic.

Laura reached into the drawer for her purse wondering how this would complicate her life. Nothing was ever the way it seemed when dealing with the Brodies.

CHAPTER TWO

JED stood near one of the large plate-glass windows at the front of the gallery gazing out over the busy street when Laura finally left her office. He felt like he was in some kind of time warp. His parents had not been overjoyed to see him. His mother accused him of deliberately staying away from the funeral. He’d explained about the timing of the message, but she refused to accept any responsibility on its delay, saying she’d told the woman who answered to have him call. It was more trouble than it was worth to keep repeating she should have mentioned it was a family emergency.

Sometimes he wondered how his mother made it in the real world. She expected everything to run according to her rules and when they didn’t, it was never her fault.

Being an artist was the cause. She lived that mystique for all it was worth. Jed remembered making meals when he was in high school so the entire family could eat. His mother would be lost in oil paints, his father in his studio working. Jordan had either been out with some girl or talking on the phone.

How did they manage meals now, he wondered briefly.

“I’m ready,” Laura said, coming to stand next to him.

He glanced at the woman his brother had been going to marry. He didn’t understand this relationship, either. Laura was not the type of woman he knew Jordan liked. She didn’t have big blond hair, wasn’t built like a Playboy bunny and seemed all-around stable. Her honey-golden hair barely brushed her shoulders. Her brown eyes held honest appraisal when she looked at him. She wore little makeup. Her dress was suitable for a successful businesswoman. Had his brother finally given up his bimbos and settled down with someone who could add stability to his life?

Or had he proposed to insure he always had a market for his painting? The cynical thought wasn’t fair to Laura. She was a pretty woman, as well as being a competent business owner. The gallery was obviously doing well. Maybe his brother had finally matured and had been ready to settle down. Jed had not seen him for the last five years. A man could change in that time. Maybe love was the key factor here. He’d heard love could change the world.

“Where do you recommend we eat?” he asked.

“Sal’s Shack has good seafood sandwiches. It’s crowded but there’s always a table somewhere,” she said. “Unless you have another place in mind?”

“No. I don’t know the area. My folks moved here when I was in college. I’ve been here for only a few visits since then.”

Jed opened the large glass door for her and followed her into the sunshine. The wide sidewalks were not crowded despite the number of people strolling along. It was late June, the beginning of the summer months when tourists outnumbered the residence five to one. The summer economy kept the town going year-round, but the other visits he’d made had been in fall. He thought he liked the place better when it wasn’t so crowded.

He looked at her. “Didn’t Jordan tell you?”

She kept her gaze forward and shook her head quickly. “I knew your family was a fairly recent transplant as Miragansett families go. But they were here before me, so they seemed like longtime residents to me. Jordan wasn’t much for talking about the past. He was always looking toward the future and what success he’d achieve when his painting took off.”

Or he’d make love talk. The hours they spent together were for the two of them, not talking about his family or the past.

“He was thirty years old, how long before his painting took off?” Jed asked.

Laura shrugged. She slipped dark glasses over her eyes. She didn’t want to talk about Jordan.

Jed tried not to let it bother him that his brother had not shared more information about their family with Laura, but he wondered what kind of engagement it had been. How could she agree to marry him and not know more about the Brodies?

“How long were you two engaged?” he asked.

“We were engaged for two months,” she said.

“And you knew him how long before that?”

She glanced up at him, her expression hard to read with the dark glasses. “Is that important?”

“Just curious.”

“Jordan swept me off my feet and we got engaged only a couple of months after meeting. I’d known your mother for longer, of course. Hugo represented some of her work so I knew her first from business.”

“So how did you two meet?” He wasn’t surprised to hear Jordan had swept her off her feet. He had that ability. Jed knew he’d never sweep anyone off their feet. He didn’t have the glib charm that Jordan displayed so easily. For him life was more serious. He didn’t think the world owed him anything. He had to make his own way. A slight, but significant difference between the two of them.

Women liked the carefree charm of his brother, Jed knew. There’d been plenty of instances when they’d been in school and college. He was nothing like Jordan in that area. The few women he’d dated over the last decade had been casual friends. His work in foreign countries didn’t make for long-term relationships.

“He came into the shop about a year and a half after I became the owner. He brought a painting to show me, wanting me to represent him. I declined based on the one painting, but he was persistent, insisted on taking me to dinner to discuss things. We began dating and before long he asked me to marry him. I said yes.”

Where was the falling-in-love part? Jed wondered. Maybe Laura was still too raw from Jordan’s death to talk about that. Yet there was a hint of anger in her tone. Wasn’t that part of the grieving process, anger that the person who died had left?

“You two were obviously not very close,” she commented.

“Distances prevented it.” Distance and their past. Jed kept secrets few people knew he had. Jordan had moved on, why couldn’t he?

“With today’s e-mail and telephones everywhere, you could have kept in closer contact if you both had wanted. I always thought twins were close,” she said.

“Maybe ones who share more than just looks. I don’t have the family artist talent. Jordan couldn’t care less about load ratios and wind factors. He went his way and I went mine.”

“And never the two shall meet,” she finished. “I didn’t even know you were twins,” she said sadly.

Jed looked at her in surprise. “Jordan didn’t speak of me at all?”

“Only to say you were the younger brother and worked out of the country and the family rarely saw you. Which explained why you weren’t at home for Christmas.”

Jed didn’t want it to bother him, but it did. How could his brother be so close to this woman and not even mention they were twins? He had never fully understood Jordan. This was another incident to add to the list.

They reached Sal’s Shack. It was situated right on the harbor, with a huge wooden deck jutting over the water, dotted with umbrellas to shade the tables—most of which were full of laughing, happy tourists and townsfolk eating lunch. The hostess led them to one of the umbrella-shaded spots near the railing. The bay was calm today, ruffled only occasionally by a gust of wind. The blue was deeper than that of the clear sky. A perfect June afternoon in Miragansett.

Jed saw one or two people look their way as they walked through the crowd and do a double-take. They probably had known Jordan. Were they others who had not known he had a twin?

He felt overdressed. Everyone on the deck was in casual shorts and cropped shirts. Dark glasses repelled the sun’s glare. Some had hats that lifted slightly in the gust of breeze from the sea. His suit was as out of place here as at the bridge site.

As soon as he returned to his hotel, he’d change into something more casual. It’d been a long time since he’d taken a vacation. He’d planned to combine the business of Jordan’s estate with some time relaxing in the seaside town. Working in the jungle he wore khakis and the coolest cotton he could. Those clothes would fit in here, as well, he thought, surveying the other men.

He looked at Laura. Her dress was pale pink and looked cool, sort of casual, yet businesslike. Her hair blew away from her face which left it available to his gaze. Her skin was lightly tanned, her dark glasses hiding her eyes from his.

He wondered what she thought about dealing with him now, instead of his mother.

He’d already run into trouble with his mom on the terms of Jordan’s will. She didn’t approve of Jed’s having the control and claimed she should have all of Jordan’s paintings. It was a formality only; if she had to she could buy them all. The money went into the estate and then it would be divided back between him and his parents. Still, he planned to follow the letter of the will. Jordan had obviously written it for a reason.

Jed had been surprised to get a call from the lawyer once he’d spoken to his mother. He had not known Jordan had named him as executor. Everything had been put on hold until Jed could be located.

He and Laura both ordered the shrimp subsandwiches and iced tea. The hum of many conversations gave a background white noise. Above it, the slap of waves on the sand beneath the deck could barely be heard. The erratic breeze from the sea kept the temperature manageable, though Jed did slip off the suit jacket and roll back his shirtsleeves.

“It’s hot. Not many men wear suits here,” she commented.

“I came straight from the airport. I saw my parents briefly then came to see you,” he explained. Now he wished he’d changed first. Still, he was on a short time frame and was impatient to get things going. He felt like a fish out of water here. He wanted to wind up the estate and get back to work. His second in command could handle things, but Jed liked to run the construction site himself.

“I read the will,” she said. “It appears you have full authority. How does that impact the show? Will you let it proceed?” She withdrew the envelope from her purse and handed it back to him.

“I knew nothing about the proposed show. When I discussed it with the lawyer who wrote the will, we made plans to liquidate assets as soon as possible. We’re already three months after his death. My mother can buy his pictures, based on your appraisals, and show them if she wishes. If his paintings weren’t selling, what was he doing for money?”

Laura didn’t know how much their family talked to each other. Not much if Jed’s questions were anything to go by. She was curious about the true relationship. Jordan had said so little about his brother, or anything else actually—except how fabulously they’d live once his paintings sold. And how much he loved her. How he would treat her like a queen when the money began to roll in.

Foolish pipe dreams she now knew better than to believe. Her face flushed in memories of the love they’d shared. How she never asked questions, always content to bask in the moment. She’d been an idiot in retrospect. But what a blissful few weeks she’d had.

Jed was watching her. What had he asked?

“Your mother subsidized him until he began to sell.” She tried to keep her tone neutral. Her parents lived a modest lifestyle in Iowa. She’d been raised to become self-sufficient at a young age. She couldn’t imagine her own parents thinking they had to support her at this point in her life. She looked away. That was unfair. They would have helped her in a moment’s notice if she’d really needed it. Maria had lots of money; she probably didn’t think two thoughts about subsidizing Jordan.

“He was thirty and hadn’t begun to earn a living. Would he really ever have?” Jed asked.

She bit her lip, feeling the wash of guilt. Would it have hurt her any to have hung one or two of his paintings in her gallery? Maybe some tourist would have bought them and given Jordan a boost that could have changed his future.

“It’s hard to say.” Because she had not given him that chance.

She looked at Jed, feeling surreal talking to the man who looked so like Jordan. His features were identical. Only the shorter haircut and different attitude showed her she wasn’t living in some dream or caught up in the past. She could be excused for the awareness that hovered. He looked like someone she loved. Her body had a hard time differentiating between them. But her mind knew. She wasn’t going down that idyllic path a second time.

Their sandwiches came and for a moment conversation was suspended while they began to eat.

“Tell me about yourself,” Jed said a little later. “You’re not from here…I can tell from your accent.”

She laughed and put down the sandwich she was about to take another bite from. “I like to think I have no accent and those from here are the ones with the definite accent. I’m from Iowa. I went to college in Boston, studied fine arts, then looked for the ideal job. I found a less than ideal one in Boston where I had the opportunity to learn all I could about current art, appraising, marketing. I spent weekends and vacations looking for another position. A few years ago I came to Miragansett for a long weekend, fell in love with the place and began to look for a job. Hugo Atkins was kind enough to hire me and here I’ve been ever since.”

“It’s a nice town, what little I’ve seen over the years. My parents lived in Boston until I started college. I’ve been on my own since, and for the most part on assignments out of the country, so I’ve never spent much time here. But I remember my mother raving about Hugo’s gallery. It was one of the best in all of Cape Cod, she once said.”

“I like to think it still is. He died almost two years ago. I was fortunate he left the business to me,” she said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow at that but before he could speak, he heard a rise in the conversation level. Turning, he saw his mother. Maria Brodie wove her way through the tables until she stopped at theirs.

“What are you doing talking to Laura?” she demanded, frowning at her son.

Jed rose politely. “I didn’t expect you to join us for lunch,” he said easily.

“I’m not joining you!”

She glared at Laura. “I called the gallery. Heather told me you had come here to have lunch with Jed. He’s nothing like Jordan. He’s only here to wreak havoc with our lives.”

Jed was glad to see some things never changed—like his mother’s bent for dramatics.

Turning back to her son, she continued, “Haven’t we had enough heartache with Jordan’s death without your interfering with our plans?” Her dramatic tone seemed to expand to include the entire deck and all the people there. Most of the customers at nearby tables stopped eating, fascinated by the scene unfolding.

“I’m only following Jordan’s instructions, Mother. You saw the will, you know this is what he wanted,” Jed said quietly. He knew better than to try to head her off. She loved an audience. Did she realize so many people were watching?

“He wrote that several years ago. Things have changed. He should have left me the paintings, or at least left them to Laura. She was going to be his wife. It’s not fair!”

Laura started to open her mouth, thought better of it and closed it firmly. Glancing around, she saw other diners avidly observing every nuance.

“Maria, please, sit down and join us,” she urged. “People are staring.”

Maria paused, glanced around haughtily and then sat in the chair Jed quickly drew out for her.

She glowered at her son. “You stay away from Jordan’s fiancée. I remember the rivalry you two boys had, always trying to take away each other’s girls. You can’t have Laura. He was happy here, away from your interference. Stay away from Laura!”

“Then shall I find someone else to appraise Jordan’s paintings? We were having lunch to discuss that,” Jed said easily, sitting back in his chair. He wondered if he was going to be able to finish his sandwich. How did his mother live with such high drama all the time? He’d find it wearing.

Maria looked surprised. She glanced at Laura. “Of course I want Laura to appraise his work. She’d do a marvelous job. She loved Jordan and admired his paintings, right dear?”

Laura gave a polite smile but kept quiet, lest she end the months of silence and tell Maria exactly what she’d thought of Jordan, and how she’d ended their engagement twenty-four hours before he crashed his car against that tree. If and when she told, it would not be at a crowded restaurant with potential customers listening avidly.

Actually, she had no plans to bring more heartbreak to Maria. The woman had loved the idea of their marriage. She had been needy after her son’s death, relying on Laura for several things since then. Her heart ached as Maria’s must. She didn’t want to cause any problems for the family.

“I would appraise the paintings to the best of my ability,” she said.

“There!” Maria looked in triumph to Jed. “She’s the best for the job.”

Jed inclined his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. “So glad you approve my choice.”

Laura admired his patience. She drew a deep breath, determined not to get upset with Maria this afternoon. She’d had enough turmoil already this day.

“She’s one of the best art dealers in town,” Maria said. She looked at what they were eating. “I’ll have the shrimp, also,” she said.

Jed summoned the waitress and placed an order for his mother.

Maria ignored Jed and looked at Laura. “I planned to stop by the gallery to look at that alcove again. I think it’s too small and not light enough for the best display of his paintings.”