Never Tell. Karen Young
He led her across the floor and they stood looking out over the city. “I’ve always admired Houston’s beautiful skyline,” she said. “Are you responsible for any of it?”
He moved his gaze away from her reluctantly and pointed to a cluster of buildings due east of downtown. “See the steeple on that church way over there? Look just to the left of it. I was the architect on that building.”
“Only that one?”
“There are several others, but that’s the only one visible from here.”
“It must be thrilling to design something so…important and then to see it come to life.”
“It’s not so different from what you do, is it?”
“A quilt compared to a stunning high-rise?”
“Art is art,” he told her. “As for importance, one of your quilts will probably be some woman’s treasure a hundred years from now when my building is crumbling.”
“You are very good for my ego,” she said, smiling.
“I’m hoping to be good for a lot more than that,” he said. Again she felt a quiver of alarm, but before she had a chance to respond, he glanced at the time on his watch. “It’s time we headed back. The auction will begin in a few minutes and Jason will be wondering what happened to you.”
She let him take her arm and in moments they were entering the ballroom. Jason obviously had been looking for her. He looked relieved when he spotted her and hurried toward them. She turned to take her leave of Hunter, but he caught and held her hand.
“After the auction, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he told her, but Jason had reached them and she didn’t have a chance to respond.
“Hunter.” Jason extended his hand. “I thought I recognized you across the room earlier.” He gave them both a mock scowl. “I leave Erica to work this crowd and next thing I know, she’s disappeared and so have you.”
“I needed a minute to breathe,” she told him.
“I tried to talk her into running away with me,” Hunter said, “but she kept talking about this auction she didn’t want to miss.”
“Yeah, and if we don’t head over there right now, we will miss it. It’s just starting. She’s nervous, so she refuses to be up front and center,” he told Hunter. “Luckily, I’ve staked out a good location where we can see the action and still be almost invisible.” He turned to go, but Hunter held her in place with a firm hand on her waist.
“Don’t let her leave after the auction, Jason,” Hunter said. Then he tipped her face up and kissed her full on the mouth. “I’ll find you after,” he promised.
As they went their separate ways, nobody noticed Lillian watching from across the room.
Lillian managed a bright smile and pretended to listen while one of Morton’s associates talked. Thanks to Hunter, she’d been functioning on sheer bravado for the last half hour. Her delight in having a rare evening in her son’s company was gone. She realized, when Hunter joined her and Morton without a date, that he wasn’t at the gala because he’d had a change of heart about these worthy events. No, from the way he kept looking about, scanning faces, moving restlessly to the bar and listening to conversations with only half an ear, she knew he was there to see someone. And when he spotted Erica Stewart and began making his way across the ballroom directly to her, she knew with a sinking heart, why he’d come.
“Be careful what you wish for,” she murmured to herself.
That kiss hadn’t been casual. She saw his face. Saw Erica’s reaction. She knew Hunter had been intrigued by the artist from the moment he met her. She realized he could have been seeing her ever since. What a cruel twist of fate that would be, she thought, fingering the brooch pinned on her shoulder. But it wouldn’t be surprising. Erica was a beautiful woman. Hunter was a man in his prime. No matter how much she and Hank wished it, there was no serious commitment on his part in his relationship with Kelly. Morton was right about that.
Murmuring something in reply to a remark by Morton, she watched Erica and Jason approach an area near the stage where the auction was beginning. She looked quite stunning, Lillian thought. The little black dress was chic and sophisticated and just right for the occasion. Many eyes would be on her tonight, and with her dark hair clipped to one side, her face coolly aloof, she seemed remote and mysterious. An artist whose inner life was hidden. She would be a big hit. Lillian sighed. Why wouldn’t Hunter be captivated?
“Do you want me to bid on the spa weekend?”
Lillian blinked, realizing Morton had spoken. “What?”
“The spa weekend,” he repeated with some irritation. “What’s the matter with you tonight, Lillian? You’ve been off in la-la land ever since we got here. I don’t know what John Molinara thought with you standing there like a mannequin. You didn’t say ten words. Hell, I thought you’d be tickled pink with Hunter making an appearance for the first time in years. It’s no wonder he disappeared. Probably remembered why he hates these things and left.”
“Sorry,” she said, still twiddling with the brooch. “I did hear you invite John and Rita to dinner. I’ll make it up to them then.”
“Glad to hear it.” He took her arm in a firm grasp. “The auction’s getting under way. Let’s move a little closer. Neither of us is looking forward to this part of the evening, but take my advice and do what I’m doing, just close your eyes and don’t look when they put up the Erica Stewart piece. And you never answered. Do you want me to bid on the spa weekend?”
“I’m not upset because something by Erica will be auctioned. I’m upset because I realize that Hunter is here because of her, Morton. The reason he disappeared is that they left together for a while, just the two of them.”
“Oh, come on. You’re imagining things.”
“I didn’t imagine anything. I saw them.” She didn’t tell him about the kiss.
Morton still scanned the room. “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think he’d leave without telling me. I also don’t see him having much interest in the auction…unless he wants to bid on Erica’s piece.” She touched her forehead. “This whole evening has been so stressful. I’m not like you, Morton. I just can’t be around her and not be reminded. I’m not able to put this out of my mind and go on with life as if nothing happened. I never will be.”
He finally lost his temper. “It’s ancient history!” he hissed in her ear. “Stop dwelling on it. You talk about this to anybody—anybody, Lillian—and everything we’ve worked for is down the tubes. I mean it. I want that appointment from the president, and it’s dead, lost forever, if I’m even touched by a breath of scandal.”
“Don’t worry,” she whispered, with a catch in her voice. “I’m the last person to ever talk about it.”
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