A Love Like This - Diana Palmer Page 0,70

you’ll have to give up your diamonds.”

“It wasn’t the diamonds I married him for, but he won’t believe that,” Bess replied. She looked up, her eyes searching King’s face with what looked like pure longing. “Remember how it used to be, in the old days? Bobby and I would go to amusement parks and spend hours on the rides. Sometimes you’d take an afternoon off and come with us, and we’d stuff ourselves with ice cream and cotton candy...”

“It isn’t wise to look back.” He handed a vodka and tonic to Elissa.

“It isn’t wise to look ahead, either,” Bess replied miserably. “All I do is sit in hotel rooms these days...or sit at home alone.” She glared at her drink. “It’s a miracle I’m not an alcoholic.”

“Don’t you have a job or anything to keep you busy?” Elissa asked without thinking. At Bess’s obvious chagrin, she hastily added, “I’m sorry, that sounded like a criticism, but honestly it wasn’t. I just meant, if you had a project or a hobby, it might be less of a strain to be alone at times.”

“I don’t know how to do anything,” Bess said sadly. “I married fresh out of high school, so I never really learned how to do much...besides be a wife.”

The irony of Bess’s situation wasn’t lost on Elissa. “We can all do something,” she said gently. “Paint or write or play an instrument or do crafts...”

“I used to play the piano,” Bess replied. She looked down at her hands. “I was pretty good, too. But Bobby resented the time I spent practicing.” She laughed bitterly. “How’s that for a reversal?”

“I’ve always wished I could play,” Elissa said enthusiastically, glancing at King’s set, solemn face and hoping to alleviate the tension Bess’s comments were feeding.

“You design clothes, don’t you?” the other woman asked curiously, her eyes faintly approving the jumpsuit. “Did you design that?”

“Yes, do you like it?” Elissa asked eagerly. “I haven’t shown this one to my parents. They’d be—” She stopped short, jamming on verbal brakes as King glared at her. “They’d be delighted,” she concluded weakly.

“Of course they would. They’re very proud of you,” King said quickly.

“What do your parents do?” Bess asked politely, raising her glass to her lips.

Elissa gnawed her lip. “They’re... They’re into ancient history,” she said truthfully. Wasn’t the Bible a record of human history, after all?

“How interesting.” Bess finished her drink, tossing back her hair as she glanced at the diamond-studded watch on her slender wrist. “Bobby’s late,” she muttered. “Another business meeting that ran overtime. Or so he swears,” she added under her breath. “Too bad I’m not a briefcase. I’d be swamped with affection these days.”

“It’s a difficult time, Bess. Subcontracting can be extremely time-consuming,” King reminded her. “Jamaica desperately needs outside investments, and the hotel Bobby’s planning will employ a lot of people, help the economy. But it has to be properly built. These things take time.”

“It’s been months already,” Bess muttered dispiritedly.

“It will be over soon,” King said, “and you’ll be back in Oklahoma City.”

Bess looked up. “Yes, I suppose I will. What a trip to look forward to. Instead of staring at hotel walls, I can stare at my own for a change,” she said dully. Her eyes searched King’s. “You never visit us anymore, Kingston. You spend most of your life here.”

King swirled the Scotch in his glass and stuck his free hand into his pocket. “I like Jamaica,” he said. He glanced deliberately at Elissa. “A lot.”

Bess took an audible breath and drained her glass. “Pour me another, would you, please?” she asked, handing it to King.

“I think you’ve had enough, Bess,” he replied. He took the glass and put it aside, gazing down at a chastened-looking Bess. She merely folded her hands in her lap and looked defeated.

Elissa was trying to decide what to do to cheer them all up when a car came up the winding sandy drive from the main road. A horn sounded, and seconds later, a car door slammed.

“It’s Bobby,” Bess said dully.

King strode to the door to meet him, and Elissa found Bess staring after him with quiet misery in her eyes.

Elissa watched Bess watching King. “What’s your husband like?” she asked, diverting her.

Bess blinked, looking startled. “Bobby? He’s... He’s a businessman. He doesn’t look much like Kingston, even though they had the same mother. Kingston’s father was Native American,” she added.

“Yes, I know.” Elissa smiled at her. “You’re very pretty.”

Bess’s eyes widened. “You’re very frank.”

“It saves thinking up lies.”

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