Coveting Love (Jessica Crawford) Read online

  Coveting Love

  Victoria Schwimley

  Copyright © 2011 Victoria Schwimley

  Ebook edition

  All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is coincidental.

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  CHAPTER 1

  The force of the storm was rough and menacing, splashing rain violently against the windowpane in Jessica Crawford’s kitchen. She stared in fixed amazement, mesmerized by the long tendrils of water scattering about like tiny spiders hurrying to see what unsuspecting prey the treacherous web had caught. Thunder ravaged the sky, but she hardly noticed as her thoughts wandered back in time, back to another rainy night, to memories of her father, who had abandoned her when she was small, a man to whom she had given all her love, and trusted with all her heart.

  She thought of her father with a mixture of emotions. She loved him as the man who had told her stories of fairy princesses and fiery dragons. She had a favorite in which there was a princess, whom the handsome prince rescued from the angry dragon. She would pretend that she was the princess and her father her prince. The prince would come to save her from the evil dragon and be her hero. They had played this game many times. He would chase her around the table, running behind her, breathing hard. She would run to her bed, giggling all the way. He would scoop her up and lay her on the bed, lovingly tucking her in and kissing her good night.

  She thought of him with hatred for the man who had left her at a time when little girls needed the love of a father the most. As this latter memory was the strongest in her mind, it was the memory she clung to, the memory that ran her life.

  It had been raining that night, too. She remembered it well. She had come home from school to find her mother crying. She had run to her, expecting the worst. Was her mother ill? Had her father been in some horrible accident? But neither of these situations had been true, and she had been unprepared for the words her mother spoke. “Daddy isn’t coming home right now, baby.” Although she would not tell her where he was, Jessica intuitively knew he was never returning.

  She resented him for the things she and her mother had gone without, just to make ends meet: ballet lessons, piano lessons, family vacations. She had envied all her friends when they would pack up for the summer and head out, their fathers driving and their mothers excitedly navigating in the shotgun seat beside them. She had often waved and cried as the tears streamed down her face when they pulled away from the curb. She would sigh, and prepare for another lonely summer without her friends.

  Then there was curiosity. What would he be doing now, and with whom would he be doing it? Did she have any brothers or sisters? Was he even still alive? And most important of all, was she ever a part of her father’s thoughts?

  She remembered him as a handsome man, but then weren’t all fathers handsome to their little girls?

  She smiled fondly when she thought of her mother. What could she say about Sarah Crawford? She was a pillar of the community, stone hard in her morals. She was a woman you could tell all your problems to, and many did. She was a woman who had sacrificed her entire life for the well-being of her daughter, her only child. She was a woman who had worked two jobs to give Jessica the education and chance at life that she herself had missed. It would be accurate to say that Jessica had an undying love for the woman who had given her life; she would do almost anything for her.

  She recalled the times when her mother would tiptoe into her room after coming home from a late night at work and stare down at her. She had assumed Jessica was asleep, but sometimes she only pretended to be. It was then she would hear the devotions her mother would make to her. Long prayers were said over her bed. She could still recite most of them. She probably learned most of what she knew about God, and the Bible, from these late night devotions. She had wanted to reach out and hug her, but to do so would have given her away, so she just had lain there. And when her mother had finally left the room, Jessica would kneel down beside her bed and say a prayer for her.

  Of course, no one could forget Mrs. Crandall. Mrs. Crandall had to have been the cruelest babysitter in the world. Jessica had hated her but had not dared tell her mother. She had always had enough to worry about, without Jessica’s foolishness adding to her burdens.

  Mrs. Crandall had found tremendous pleasure in informing the small child that it was her fault her father had left. She would say Jessica had been a terribly naughty girl, and her father had hated her, and therefore, never would return.

  On her twelfth birthday, Jessica managed to convince her mother she was old enough to care for herself. A reluctant Sarah had agreed, and thus began Jessica’s journey into maturity. Jessica grinned as she thought about this memory. She had run around the room dancing with joy, letting her spirits carry her away. Her mother had grabbed her, pulling her to her, and hugging her tightly. Jessica had watched with delight as her mother telephoned the evil babysitter and informed her that she would need to seek employment elsewhere.

  When the time had actually come for Jessica to stay alone that first night, she would not admit to being frightened, but she had been. She had put on a brave front and made it through the night. The next morning, when her mother inquired as to how the evening had gone, she put on a radiant smile and declared her victory.

  Because of these sacrifices, and the love Jessica felt toward her mother, Jessica was attentive to her. She took her to plays, the opera, dinner, and the movies. She spent every birthday, holiday, and as many free hours as she possibly could with her. Sarah had protested more than once, but Jessica would not listen. She owed everything she was, and everything she had, to the loving guidance of her mother. It was Jessica’s obligation, as well as her pleasure, to make sure Sarah enjoyed the remainder of her life, even if it meant sacrificing her own. Jessica did wish, however, that her mother would give up her quest to find her the perfect husband.

  The telephone rang sharply, startling Jessica out of her musings. She quickly poured the remains of her coffee, having long since gone cold, down the sink drain, rinsed it briefly, and reached for the phone.

  “Good morning,” John chirped. He was calling from the phone in the studio at the magazine where she worked. “I thought I would give you a ring and let you know this morning’s photo session has been moved up to seven o’clock. So, you might want to get moving and get here pretty fast.”

  Jessica glanced quickly at the clock. She was surprised to discover it was already six. “That’s impossible,” she protested. I can’t possibly make it there in one hour. I’m not even ready to leave yet, and it’s a half hour drive.”

  “Well, I guess you had better hurry then. They moved up the deadline. It looks as though we’ll be here all day with no breaks as it is.” She hung up the phone after promising John she would hurry.

  She looked around her comfortable apartment and wondered if it was all worth it. Modern Fashions Magazine was one of the top selling publications in current distribution. They paid her quite well for her position as head photographer. Affording things was not a problem for her, and she spared no expense in her decorating. She had carefully chosen a harmonious blend of soft pinks and dark burgundies, adding gold accents and inlays to finish off the rich, vibrant look. She supposed she had spent just a bit too much money on her furnishings, considering she was hardly ever in the apartment, but decorating it was her passion, another way to express her art. Her career often took her away from home, and with her frequent visits to her mother’s house, the apartment often sat vacant for weeks at a time.

  She lovingly fingered the oversized vase that she had acquired from a sculptor friend two years previously. He would have been willing to
give it to her for a very reasonable price, but an art collector, who had been prepared to pay top price for it, had been after it for quite some time. Jessica had begged for weeks, and had finally managed to secure it for nearly a month’s pay. Still, it had been worth it. The Jade green, pastel, and rich pink colors made it a priceless addition to all her treasures.

  Sarah Crawford lived in a small house, which Jessica had purchased for her, a reasonable distance from the city. Sarah liked living there because it kept her away from all the noise and congestion of the city. Jessica enjoyed visiting her and would often spend the weekend savoring the solitude and peacefulness the country had to offer. Her mother had tried, on numerous occasions, to persuade her to move in with her, but she had declined, using the excuse it was too far from her job—even though there was a train depot just a few short blocks from her mother’s house that brought dozens of commuters into the city every day. In all truthfulness, she thought living there would somehow spoil the serenity she found from her visits.

  She glanced quickly at the clock. She grimaced at the late hour it displayed, and then ran to throw on some clothes and apply final additions to her makeup.

  When she had dressed, she went into the living room, stopping long enough to take a last look around. Her eyes found the overstuffed chair sitting near the fireplace. A large bookcase resided beside it. She longed to wander over, pick up the latest novel she was reading, sink down into the chair, and spend the entire day reading. Instead, she sighed, picked up her purse and coat, and headed for the door.

  She dropped her keys on the floor. As she bent to pick them up, she bumped her head on an antique chest that stood near the front door. She kicked it in frustration then cursed herself for having done so. “Damn, I paid a lot of money for that,” she uttered under her breath. She had secured it from a very smart Japanese street merchant on her last trip to Japan. It was hand carved, and each corner was delicately hand painted with pink blossoms over an emerald green background. The man had driven a hard bargain, one that Jessica knew was fair, and she had grinned broadly, as she blissfully made her way to the local shipping agency, where she had paid another small fortune to get it home.

  Jessica ran out the door only to have her purse held back by the inside doorknob. She managed to free it and get the door closed firmly behind her, but not before also giving it a good hearty kick.

  The rain beat fiercely upon the sidewalk. Jessica shivered as she pulled her coat closer around her as a barrier against the rain and wind. Normally, she preferred to take the subway, avoiding the traffic altogether. This morning, however, she had wasted so much time that she knew she would be late if she did so. She would then have everyone upset because the shoot would be delayed, throwing off the entire day’s schedule. Besides, the thought of working with grumpy models did not appeal to her.

  So instead, she fought the wind and the rain, and ran the short distance to the parking garage, where she paid another small fortune every month for the minor privilege of having a place to store her car, which she rarely drove.

  She found her car in a relatively short time, had it really been that long since she had driven it? Judging from the amount of dirt that had accumulated, she guessed it had. She took a deep breath and turned the key. The car hesitated, cranked, and then blessedly sputtered to life. She said a silent prayer of thanks and vowed to take better care of it, a vow she had no intention of keeping.

  The rain had already chilled her to the bone, and she didn’t care to be stuck out in it, so she allowed a little extra time, time she couldn’t spare, to warm up the car. She longed for the day to be over already, so she could begin her weekend of relaxation. She eased the car out of the garage and merged smoothly into the flow of traffic. She smiled and waved to the kind gentleman who allowed her to take cuts.

  Once again glancing at her watch, she noted the late hour and pressed the accelerator closer to the floor, urging the car to go faster. Not that she could go any faster than the cars in front of her. The traffic was thick and the rain heavy, which had already caused several accidents. She slowed down the car, as if just now becoming aware of the hazardous conditions of the road.

  A throbbing pain had begun at her temples and she began to rub them, trying to ease away the pain. It was going to be a very trying day, and Jessica was beginning to regret having gotten out of bed at all this morning. Why hadn’t she just called in sick?

  The light turned green and she slowly eased the car forward, only to be halted again as the car in front of her stalled in the intersection. As she waited for the car to regain life, she began to wonder if perhaps there might be an easier way to get through this life, but decided she would probably never find out if there was.

  The car ahead of her suddenly began to move again and her path was free to go. She sighed as she placed her foot on the accelerator, once again easing the car forward. This time the car did not stall and she had a clear path for the remainder of her way to work.

  Modern Fashions Magazine was in the East Wing of the West Meyer Complex, on 5th Avenue. The building was tall, nearly thirty floors counting the small alcove on the top floor, which served as the employee lounge for all the various businesses that occupied the building. The magazine took up the entire first floor and part of the basement.

  Jessica paused outside the big, heavy, glass doors to catch her breath. She could see everyone hustling back and forth. As she pushed through the doors, Sandy greeted her with a frown, and scowled at her from behind her reception desk.

  “Good morning, Jessica. You had better watch out in there.” She gestured toward the studio. “They seem to have gone crazy in there today. Each and every one of them has lost his mind.”

  Jessica returned her scowl. She and Sandy had a mutual understanding about their relationship; they simply tolerated each other. There was no way of pinpointing what caused this rift. They had never even come close to being friends, and certainly had not had any sort of altercation. It was just one of those oil and water situations.

  “What seems to be the rush today?” Jessica demanded of her.

  “I’m not really sure,” Sandy replied, shrugging her shoulders. “All I know is that The Dragon Lady came out of her office early this morning, demanding everyone work extra-long to wrap up the photo shoot scheduled for today. She said something about starting a special project.”

  Jessica was glad to be finishing the current project, as it was not her favorite type of work to be doing. Every year, a special spot was set aside in the February issue of the magazine, so amateur designers could display their work at a next-to-nothing-cost.

  Clair Anderson, Dragon Lady, as Sandy, and most of the office staff so affectionately referred to her, felt everyone deserved an opportunity to be represented in a professional manner, not to mention the positive publicity it gave the magazine. Therefore, starting in October, designers could submit their designs for consideration, and Clair would decide which ones she felt had a better chance of success. She then would arrange photo sessions featuring their new designs. They published a special issue in early spring, dedicated to the up and coming designers. This was what Jessica, and just about everyone else in the studio, currently was working on.

  Although she appreciated the concept of the project, Jessica didn’t feel it was cost effective to have so many people working on it at once. Clair Anderson, however, was not one to consider employees’ feelings, which is precisely how she had earned the name, Dragon Lady.

  Jessica subconsciously rubbed her temples again.

  “Headache?” Sandy asked, nonchalantly and unconcerned, having already returned her focus to her work.

  Not bothering to answer her, Jessica proceeded into the lunchroom to pour another cup of coffee before tackling her day. She knew she would be sorry later, but didn’t feel she could make it through the morning without it.

  She could tell immediately upon entering the studio that Sandy had not been exaggerating. Clothing was flying, models were cryin
g, and John—dear sweet John—was yelling at the prop attendants. As she approached him, he turned on her.

  “Jessica. Thank God. Where have you been? Please hurry up. We have to get this show on the road now, or we’ll never be able to finish today,” he cried, pushing her toward her camera, which had already been set up for her. She stopped short, spilling the hot coffee over her hands in the process. All the frustrations she had felt this morning, compounded by her throbbing head, let loose. Her voice boomed.

  “Hold it! I want to know what is going on here. You know I can’t work under this kind of pressure. Why the sudden urgency to get this wrapped up, we still had a week left and we’re ahead of schedule.”

  John stared at her, unaffected by her ranting. “You really should lay off that stuff, you know,” he said, pointing at her coffee. “You know what it does to you.”

  “Can it, John. I’m not in the mood today for lectures on my dietary intake.” John had a reputation for his healthy habits. He considered his body a temple and nothing went into it that didn’t add its share to his nutritional needs. He worked out at the gym three times per week and jogged on the days he didn’t. “I still haven’t the vaguest idea what all this is about.”

  “All I know is, Ms. Anderson has another project in the wings and wants to get started on it right away.”

  Some of the anger had left her, replaced now with curiosity. “Well, what kind of project can be this important?”

  “Just about the most important assignment we have undertaken in a very long time. And worth a lot of money, I might add.”

  Jessica jumped as she heard the familiar voice behind her. Clair was famous around the studio for sneaking up on people. One had to be careful about what they said around there. More than a few had been let go because they had been overheard gossiping. It was the least tolerated behavior in her eyes; she spared no mercy in her punishment. Jessica had to agree with her, though. This occupation required constant ego stroking. She certainly couldn’t afford to have any of her models upset over idle gossip.