He didn’t bat an eye. “Virgil’s?”
“Virgil gave it to me. It was mine.”
A slow smile, which could have meant anything, worked the corners of his mouth. “He didn’t want it back?”
Georgeanne folded her arms beneath her breasts and tilted her head to one side. “Sure he did, and I’d planned to give the ring back, too, but he’d taken my clothes and donated them to the Salvation Army.”
“That’s right. He had your clothes, didn’t he?”
“Yep. When I left the wedding, I left everything but my makeup. All I had was that stupid pink dress.”
“Yes. I remember that little dress.”
“When I called him to ask about my things, he wouldn’t even talk to me. He had his housekeeper tell me to drop the ring off at his offices and leave it with his secretary. The housekeeper wasn’t very nice about it either, but she did tell me what he’d done with my stuff.” Georgeanne wasn’t especially proud of selling the ring, but Virgil was partly to blame. “I had to buy all my clothes back at four and five dollars a pop, and I didn’t have any money.”
“So you sold the ring.”
“To a jeweler who was happy to get it for half of what it was worth. When I first met Mae, her catering business wasn’t doing real well. I gave her a lot of that ring money to pay off some of her creditors. That money might have given me a little help, but I’ve worked my tail off to get where I am today.”
“I’m not judging you, Georgie.”
She hadn’t realized that she sounded so defensive. “Some people might, if they knew the truth.”
Amusement appeared in the corners of his eyes. “Who am I to judge you? Jesus, I married DeeDee Delight.”
“True,” Georgeanne laughed, feeling a little like Scarlett O’Hara unburdening her dishonorable deeds to Rhett Butler. “Does Virgil know about Lexie yet?”
“No. Not yet.”
“What do you think he’ll do when he finds out?”
“Virgil is a smart businessman, and I’m his franchise player. I don’t think he’ll do anything. It’s been seven years, and it’s water under the bridge, anyway. Now, I’m not saying he’ll be real happy when I tell him about Lexie,
but he and I work together fairly well. Besides, he’s married now and seems happy.”
Of course, she’d known he’d married. Local papers had reported on his marriage to Caroline Foster-Duffy, director of the Seattle Art Museum. Georgeanne hoped John was right and that Virgil was happy. She harbored him no ill will.
“Answer me something else?”
“No. I answered your question, it’s my turn to ask you.”
John shook his head. “I told you about DeeDee and my drinking. That’s two skeletons. So you owe me one more.”
“Fine. What?”
“The day you brought the pictures of Lexie to my houseboat, you mentioned being relieved that she didn’t struggle in school. What did you mean?”
She didn’t really want to talk about her dyslexia with John Kowalsky.
“Is it because you think I’m a dumb jock?” He gripped the top rung of the chair and leaned back.
His question surprised her. He looked calm and cool as if her answer didn’t matter one way or the other. She had a feeling it mattered more than he wanted her to know. “I’m sorry I called you dumb. I know what it’s like to be judged for what you do or how you look.” A lot of people suffered from dyslexia, she reminded herself, but knowing that famous people like Cher, Tom Cruise, and Einstein endured it also didn’t make it any easier to reveal herself to a man like John. “My concern for Lexie had nothing to do with you. When I was a child, I struggled in school. The three Rs gave me bit of trouble.”
Except for a slight crease between his brows, he remained expressionless. He said nothing.
“But you should have seen me in ballet and charm school,” she continued, forcing levity into her voice and attempting to coax a smile from him. “While I may have been the worst ballerina to have ever leaped across a stage, I do believe I excelled at charm. In fact, I graduated at the head of my class.”
He shook his head and the crease disappeared from his forehead. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”