When Jayne Met Erik

The sale of their parents’ home, along with a modest life insurance settlement and social security for the twins, had afforded them the financial boost they’d needed during that time. But now that Chloe and Charlie were eighteen, the social security was gone. And college tuition for two, even with the twins’ partial scholarships, was going to prove a challenge. Still, the Pembroke finances were stable and reasonably secure right now. As long as Jayne had her job at Colette Jewelry and lived within her modest budget, everything would be fine.

She hoped.

“Good morning, Jayne,” Rose Carson said with a smile as she closed her own door and turned toward her newest tenant. She glanced down at her watch. “You’re running a bit late, aren’t you, dear?”

Jayne quelled the panic that threatened to rise again. She wasn’t that late, she reminded herself. Thanks to all her rushing around—and skipping her morning coffee—she could still make it to work with a few minutes to spare. Maybe. If she ran the entire way. Which, of course, she would, seeing as how she had missed the bus, and it was still raining. Colette, Inc. was only ten blocks from 20 Amber Court. And if she hugged the buildings between here and there, the awnings might provide enough shelter to keep her dry. Sort of.

“A bit late, yes,” Jayne conceded to her landlady. “It’s been one of those mornings,” she couldn’t help adding with no small exasperation.

Rose nodded, clearly understanding. “Rainy days and Mondays, right?” she asked.

Jayne chuckled derisively. “Rainy days and Mondays, and broken alarm clocks and broken hair dryers, and no clean laundry and uncooperative coffeemakers, and homicidal cats and—”

Rose held up a hand, laughing. “Say no more,” she said. “Oh, my. I’ve had a few of those days myself.”

Jayne was about to say goodbye and scuttle off when she noticed the brooch affixed to Rose’s cream-colored blouse. Not quite heart-shaped and not quite triangular, it was unusual and very beautiful, encrusted with dark yellowish stones set in what appeared to be several different metals. So captivated was she by the accessory, she found herself involuntarily lifting a hand toward it.

“Your pin is so beautiful, Rose,” she said, speaking her thoughts aloud. “That’s not topaz, though, is it?” She glanced up after voicing her question, only to find Rose beaming at her as if Jayne had just paid her the highest compliment in the world.

“No, it’s amber,” her landlady replied. “Amber and some precious metals.”

Jayne nodded as she touched a fingertip gently to the brooch. “Someone must have given it to you because you live at 20 Amber Court,” she said.

Rose smiled again, a bit sadly this time. “No, I’ve had this for quite some time now. There’s a rather interesting history behind it, actually.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime,” Jayne said, dropping her hand back to her side. “Sometime when I’m not running so late and having such a crummy day,” she added when she recalled her current situation. She started to say farewell again, when Rose stopped her.

“Wait,” her landlady said impulsively. She reached for the pin Jayne had just admired. “Wear this today,” she told her tenant with a cryptic little smile, her dark eyes sparkling. “In the past, it’s brought me what you might call ‘good luck.’ Maybe it will help get you through the rest of the day.”

Jayne expelled a single, humorless chuckle. “The way this day has started, I have a feeling it’s not going to be ‘one of those days’ so much as it’s going to be ‘one of those months.”’

“Then wear it all month, if you need to,” Rose told her, unfastening the pin from her own blouse and deftly fixing it on Jayne’s. With a mischievous little smile she added, “You’ll know when it’s time to give it back.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—” Jayne started to object.

“Of course you could,” Rose insisted. “There,” she said, patting the pin in place. “It doesn’t exactly match your outfit, but…”

This time Jayne laughed in earnest. “But then my outfit doesn’t exactly match much of anything, does it? Remind me if you see me later today that I have a lot of laundry to do tonight, okay?”

Rose nodded. “Will do, dear.”

Jayne turned an eye to the large marble foyer of 20 Amber Court, gazing through the big glass windows at the bleak, gray day outside. Thankfully, the rain had ebbed to a scant drizzle, so she closed her eyes for a moment and willed the scant drizzle to stay that way, at least until she reached Colette. And then, with one more halfhearted smile for Rose, she lifted a hand in farewell.

“Good luck today!” her landlady called after her as Jayne hastened toward the front door.

“Thanks!” Jayne called back. “Something tells me I’m going to need it!”

On the other side of Youngsville, Indiana, Erik Randolph wasn’t having a particularly good morning, either—though for entirely different reasons.

His own sleep the night before had been restful and dreamless, and he didn’t wake up late for work. That would be because, simply put, he had no work for which to wake up late. Oh, he could go to work, if he wanted to—it was no secret that his father was holding a VP position for him at Randolph Shipping and Transportation. But it was also no secret that Erik wasn’t much suited to work. Work required something like oh…a work ethic, for one thing. A sense of purpose for another. Or even a feeling of duty, or a desire to provide. Erik, it was commonly known, lacked all of those things. Though, it was likewise commonly known, that didn’t detract from his charm one iota.

So as it stood now, his hour of waking was completely immaterial, because he would spend today as he spent every day—without any specified activities or agenda in mind. And although he awoke alone, it was because he had chosen to awake alone, which was his habit when he spent the night at his house.

That, of course, was because he shared his house with his parents, who were the actual owners of the house. But it wasn’t because he feared discovery by said parents that caused Erik to sleep alone—in fact, the Randolph estate was so large and so spacious, one could be sharing it with the United Arab Emirates and not run into anyone for months. It was because Erik just never quite felt comfortable when he was at home. Certainly not comfortable enough to entertain anyone there.

And, anyway, entertaining was his mother’s milieu. Erik was far better suited to being entertained.

In any case he didn’t like to spend any more time at his parents’ estate than was absolutely necessary. He wasn’t sure why that was. Certainly the house was beautifully and elegantly decorated, filled with only the best that money could buy—the most luxurious Persian rugs, the finest European antiques, the most exquisite works of art. And certainly his parents and his two younger sisters were all likable enough people, and, as a family, they all got along very well. But there was something missing here. The house lacked…something. Erik wasn’t quite sure what. And as a result, he was just never all that comfortable when he was at home.

It was only one of the reasons he spent so much time traveling. The other reason, of course, would be that traveling was just so much fun. And still another reason was that traveling introduced him to so many wonderful people, from so many walks of life, many of whom—the female ones, at any rate—he could share serious, monogamous relationships with, often for days on end. Jet-setting playboy, Erik had concluded a long time ago, was just about the best occupation a man could have.

Still, when he was forced to spend time at home in Youngsville, his parents’ estate was more than accommodating. Even at 9:00 a.m., Erik was still clad in his burgundy silk robe and pajama bottoms, stretched out in his king-size bed, the remnants of his breakfast lying neglected now on the silver tray that Bates, the true-blue Randolph butler, had placed beside him an hour ago. And although Erik felt restless and edgy, as if he were on the brink of some vague, life-altering experience, he just couldn’t quite muster the energy necessary to pull himself out of bed and go greet that experience head-on.

Really, what was the point? he asked himself, dragging an impatient hand through his overly long, dark hair. It was Monday, it was raining, and he could think of no better way to spend the day than idling about. On top of everything else, it was the first day of September, reminding him that his thirtieth birthday was this month, and that—

Suddenly, Erik understood his restlessness, his edginess, his need to go out and meet that life-altering experience head-on. His thirtieth birthday was two weeks away. Damn. This was just what he needed. He’d dedicated his entire summer to zigzagging around the globe, miring himself in denial over the fact that he would soon be thirty years old. Now, suddenly, there it was, staring him in the face. His thirtieth birthday. Only two weeks away. Fourteen days. That was all he had left to his twenties. Two lousy weeks, fourteen lousy days.

Thirty. He was about to turn thirty. God. When had that happened?

It wasn’t so much the chronological significance of turning thirty that bothered Erik. Although he’d very much enjoyed his twenties, he didn’t consider thirty to be the end of his life. On the contrary, he knew several people who were actually in their thirties, and they seemed to be having a surprisingly good time. Many of them even claimed that their thirties were actually more enjoyable than their twenties had been.

Not that Erik was quite willing to go that far, but he wasn’t all that averse to turning thirty. Or, at least, he wouldn’t be. Not if it weren’t for the fact that he had a familial obligation he needed to meet soon. Like, by his thirtieth birthday. Like, in two weeks. Like, in fourteen days.

Fourteen lousy days.

Because within fourteen lousy days, Erik had to acquire something very specific in order to claim an inheritance, currently in trust, left to him by his paternal grandfather. Certainly it wouldn’t break Erik financially if he declined the inheritance—even without his grandfather’s riches, the Randolphs were an exceedingly wealthy family. But Erik’s father was adamant that Erik take possession of the estate that the elder Randolph felt was his entitlement.

Damien Randolph, Erik’s father, hadn’t gotten along particularly well with his own father—in fact, the two men had stopped speaking to each other more than a decade ago. As a result, Grandfather Randolph had split his entire estate—his entire estate of $180 million—between Erik and his two sisters, bypassing his own son entirely.

Of course, it was all contingent on one small stipulation. Because Grandfather Randolph had feared that his grandchildren would never outgrow their notorious playboy and playgirl habits—and for good reason, too, Erik couldn’t help but think now—the will stated that in order to claim their share of the estate, each would have to meet that one simple stipulation before his or her thirtieth birthday. Not that Erik’s sisters had to worry about it for some time—Celeste was four years younger than Erik, and Maureen was eight years younger than he—so Erik would be the test subject. And because he did have a good relationship with his own father, Erik felt rather obligated to meet his grandfather’s requirement, and keep in the Randolph family as much of the Randolph wealth as possible. Really, it was the least Erik could do for his father.

And hey, his share did amount to sixty million dollars.

It wasn’t every day that a man acquired an estate that large and that secure. Grandfather Randolph had been a very wise investor. Once Erik inherited, he’d be set for life. Not that he wasn’t already pretty much set right now, but a man could never be too sure.

And had he mentioned that his share did amount to sixty million dollars?

Still, there was that one simple criterion Erik was obligated to meet before he could take control of his inheritance, and he had to meet it by his thirtieth birthday. Really, it wouldn’t be all that hard to do. What Erik needed to find could be found almost anywhere. He just hadn’t gotten around to looking for one yet, that was all. Now that he only had fourteen days, though, he supposed he should get hopping.

But where to look first, he wondered? Did the Yellow Pages have a listing for what he needed? If he looked under W, would he find a section labeled Wives?

Ah, well. If not, no problem. Should he find a shortage of wives in Youngsville, he’d just pick one up somewhere else. Chicago was right across Lake Michigan and was quite a bit larger than his own community. If he couldn’t find a wife here in town, then surely they had plenty of potential wives over there.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he was going to have to keep the wife he found. Grandfather’s will stated quite clearly that Erik need only remain married for one year in order to collect his inheritance. He supposed his grandfather thought that a year of settling down would be enough to keep Erik settled down. Grandfather Randolph had been so utterly smitten by his own wife that the thought of the marriage ending prematurely had never crossed his mind. The old man had probably thought that Erik need only spend enough time in the company of a good woman to become equally smitten himself.

In a word, Hah.

Not only was Erik much too pragmatic to believe in anything as…as…as silly…as romantic love, but he was also much too entrenched in his globe-trotting playboy lifestyle—not to mention he liked that lifestyle way too much—to ever abandon it. Still, he could put it on hold for a year if it meant maintaining the family status quo, couldn’t he? Especially if it meant maintaining the family status quo and inheriting millions and millions and millions of dollars.