Eva finished up with the wedding cake and slid it carefully into the oversized refrigerator at the church. She drove to the office, her stomach churning, hoping she’d done the right thing in accepting this job. It was a lot of money and exposure was exposure, but something about the situation made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. She was tempted to call Gabe and ask him if he actually knew Jerry Harding, and if he did, why on earth he’d given such her cell phone number to such an odd man, but she knew Gabe was tied up with interviews and his brother. It was even possible he was on his way to another city right now. She hadn’t spoken to him today. He’d called yesterday morning and awakened her. Eva smiled. He said he just wanted to hear her morning voice. Thinking of Gabe made her feel better. He would never give her number to someone who was dangerous in any way. Maybe he’d meant to give the guy the ATAP number and inadvertently given him her cell. Whatever. It would be fine.
* * * *
“I need to get a fax number from Kinkos,” said Paul. “She wants to fax me the contract and I can’t use our fax.”
“No, you can’t use Kinkos either,” replied Stephanie. “It will say Kinkos when you fax it back. Here’s my father’s personal fax number,” she handed him a sheet of paper. “Use that. I’ll give him a call and go pick up the contract at his office. I’ll sign
Jerry Harding
and fax it back to her.”
“You know, I feel like a louse, Miss Lindstrom. Don’t ask me to do this again. I told you before, I don’t want to be involved your scheme.”
“Oh, c’mon Paul, have a sense of humor. It’s a joke. I’m not going to hurt her. I’m just going to inconvenience her, make her doubt her boyfriend a little bit. That’s all. Make her show her true colors.”
“And those are?”
“I don’t know,” shrugged Stephanie. “What color are gold diggers? That’s the point. Women like Eva Raines don’t come with a caution flag. Guys fall for these women and by the time they know what they’ve gotten themselves into, it’s too late. I should know. I handled enough nasty divorces before I went corporate.”
Paul picked up the disposable cell phone Stephanie had given him to use and dialed the number for ATAP. “Quiet,” he said, “I’m calling her back. And Miss Lindstrom, this is it. This is as far as we go.”
“I’m thinking partner by the end of the year,” Stephanie said, sounding like a fisherman baiting a hook with a new lure.
Paul hesitated. Finally, he replied, “No, this is it.” He pointed the phone at her. “After this call, you’re on your own.” He pressed the call button.
Stephanie glared at him. “Be careful, Paul. I might say the same to you.”
Stephanie stepped to the other side of the room and listened to Paul give Eva the fax number while she used her own cell to call her mother.
“Hi, mom. How are you? …Oh, that’s good. Listen, mom…you know that credit card you loaned me? Yes, the new one… Well, so sorry, I lost it… Yes… While I was shopping… No… No… I’ll call the bank and cancel it… No, don’t worry… It’s not any trouble… I’m so sorry I lost it when you were so sweet to think of letting me pick out a birthday gift… Yeah, don’t worry… I’ll see you this weekend… Bye, mom.”
* * * *
Eva rushed into
San Francisco
early Saturday morning. She was back in
Napa
by ten. She tossed the caviar in her refrigerator, wondering if she should put a padlock on the stainless steel door, since the stuff was almost as expensive as gold. She left to pick up Ruth so they could finish the prep and set up for the wedding. Eva was in charge of the food, Ruth the bar. The bride and groom had chosen a simple, elegant tasting menu. Eva enjoyed making the small plates for the intimate affair. Nonetheless, it would probably be a late night. She and Ruth would have to stay until everyone had gone home in order to clean up the church kitchen and pack everything away. The bride’s mother had hired a janitorial service to clean the reception area, so at least she and Ruth wouldn’t have to be on garbage duty.
Eva had already spoken with the winery and they’d set aside six bottles of the wines Jerry Harding had requested. Eva would run up the Silverado Trail in the morning to retrieve them. She’d pay for it out of her own pocket, as she had the caviar, knowing she’d be reimbursed when Tom and Marcus returned. The rest of the set up would take three, four hours, max. The job should be quick and easy. Not a whole lot of work when you considered the money Harding was putting out. Eva figured the man wanted to make a big impression on his guests. She hadn’t heard from Gabe. She’d kept her cell phone shut off during the wedding and the reception, but she’d left him a message before the ceremony began. She simply told him she loved him and missed him. She didn’t want to bother him with the Jerry Harding business. She’d bring it up when he got home, or maybe if something like this happened again. It had to be a mistake. Gabe would never have deliberately given out her private number. At least Harding had signed the contract and faxed it back almost immediately. She’d left it sitting on Tom’s desk.
Eva checked her watch.
in
in Chicago, and she had another three hours to go, at least, before the wedding guests departed. She was about to switch on her cell and discreetly check for messages when she saw the maid of honor motion to her. The bride and groom were probably getting ready to cut the cake. Eva stuck the phone into her back pocket and followed the young woman into the kitchen to discuss logistics.
Gabe had rented a two-bedroom suite for himself and Quincy. Marsha stayed in a room next door, but she had a key card to his room so she could use the fax machine. Gabe rolled over in bed and checked the clock.
Eva was probably still working at the wedding, and even if she wasn’t, he didn’t want to phone her this late. Damn, he missed the woman. He’d replayed her message at least ten times.
I love you and I miss you. Can’t wait to see you
. If he didn’t have another week of interviews scheduled, he’d just say screw it and fly home to her. But these kids needed him and they needed the college education or the technical training his money could provide. They’d worked hard and they deserved his full attention.
Quincy
was holding up better than Gabe had expected. The young man had been quiet and reserved at first, but put a Cubs game on TV and he was all about baseball. Gabe talked to him about the Giants, but
Quincy
couldn’t see how anyone could be loyal to two teams at once. Gabe told the boy that while he would live and die a Cubs fan, he loved
Quincy
was impressed to learn that Gabe lived within walking distance of the ballpark and Abbott Industries owned a luxury box on the third base side. Gabe promised to take him to every game the Cubs played in
San Francisco
.
Gabe was beginning to feel some optimism. Maybe he and Quincy would be all right. Becoming an instant family was a difficult adjustment for both of them, not to mention coming to terms with the fact of a shared deadbeat father and bad memories.
Quincy
had had a couple years to accept the existence of Gabe and Elise. Gabe had only one month.
Quincy
had taken to Elise and her family immediately. Although Gabe knew the boy was disappointed he couldn’t spend as much time with them as he’d like, he proved to be quite adaptable. Gabe was beginning to wonder if adaptability was an inherited McIntyre trait. Gabe and Quincy stopped in to check on Elise and the girls at least every other day. They took their nieces out for ice cream and once to see an animated feature. Besides, Gabe got to spend a big chunk of time with his mother, which made her supremely happy, and
Quincy
benefited from her home cooking. Otherwise, with Gabe, it was hotdogs, deep-dish
Chicago
pizza and barbecue. Marsha never stopped complaining about the food. Gabe teased her that she was all
“We need us a little Eva,” she’d said.
Gabe couldn’t have agreed more. God, he missed his little chef. He missed her taste. He missed her smell. He missed the feel of her satiny skin beneath his fingers. He missed the gasp she made every time he thrust himself inside her. He missed her voice, her cheekiness, her infectious laugh. The more he thought about Eva, the more convinced he became about the need to make their arrangement permanent. As soon as possible.
Gabe flipped over and took another look at the clock.
. No, he was not going to bother her now. He’d talk to her when she woke up. His would be the first voice she heard on Sunday morning.
* * * *
“Fuck!”
Eva flew out of bed. She’d overslept and the clock on her bedside table read nine-thirty. She’d been scheduled to pick up the wine at nine. Where was her damn cell phone? Fuck… fuck… fuck.
Eva ran into the kitchen and grabbed her house phone. She had to stop and search for her phone book to look up the number for the winery.
“C’mon…pick up….pick up…”
“Hi, Maryanne, this is Eva Raines. I am so sorry. I overslept. If I head up there right now, can I get the wines? Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m in your debt. I’ll see you in a few.”
God fucking damn it. The wedding reception had lasted later than Eva had anticipated. She and Ruth hadn’t left until
Where the hell was her cell phone? She knew she’d had it when she was packing up the car. If she dropped the sucker, she was dead, just dead. That cell phone was her lifeline. She threw on a pair of sweats, slipped on her flip-flops, and grabbed the office cell. She checked it. No messages. Thank God for small favors. Now if the traffic gods can only keep the cops busy elsewhere.
* * * *
One eighty-dollar speeding ticket later, Eva had the wines packed in the backseat of her car. She still hadn’t found her cell phone. She’d tried calling her own number with the office phone, but she heard nothing. On the way back to her house, she stopped by the church and carefully searched the parking lot and the entrance to the kitchen. Since services were going on and the lot was full, Eva hoped that if someone had found her phone, they’d be kind enough to leave it in the church office. She’d check first thing in the morning, before she went to the White’s. Not a good start to her day, but then, she should know better than to leave her cell phone in her back pocket while she repeatedly bent over the trunk of her car to load boxes.
Eva got home as quick as she could while still staying under the speed limit. She unloaded the bottles of wine and stored them in her small, countertop wine cooler, removing her own wines. She carefully set her own wines off to the side, making sure they stayed out of the sun. She jumped into the shower, toweled off quickly and tossed on her ATAP uniform. She ran a comb through her thick hair, yelping at the nastier tangles. She braided it wet and stuck her feet into her black tennis shoes. She quickly loaded the car with everything she needed and headed over to the ATAP kitchen to prepare the food for Jerry Harding’s buffet. She left the wine and the caviar at home. She could swing by and get that last, on her way up to Yountville. Unless she encountered the unexpected, set up should be a breeze. As she drove down
Jefferson
, she wondered if Gabe had been trying to reach her. She should have thought to call him from her landline before she left the house. He probably would assume she’d gone out on a bike ride. Stupid to lose her cell phone like that. She’d come to depend upon it so much that she felt practically naked without it. Like she was on a deserted island, cut off from civilization. How crazy was that? It was just a piece of technology. The world would continue to spin regardless of whether or not she had her cell phone.
Paul Rupnik called Eva’s cell phone for the sixth time, and for the sixth time, there was no answer. He’d decided he simply couldn’t go through with it. He had no beef with Eva Raines, but he found his beef with Stephanie Lindstrom growing by leaps and bounds.
Damn it. Why the hell didn’t the woman pick up? He supposed he could try her business line. He searched the internet for ATAP. He’d handed the disposable phone back over to Stephanie, but while she’d been talking to her mother, he’d punched Eva’s cell number into his own contact list and saved it. He wasn’t using his cell phone today, though. He’d been trying to reach her from his home number. Paul’s home phone number was unlisted so it would simply show up as
Private Name Private Number
or
Unknown
on her caller ID. He’d prefer to remain anonymous, if he possibly could.
He tried the ATAP number listed online. He got a voicemail. Paul didn’t leave a message. What kind of message could he leave? Sorry I fucked with your life? Sorry you’re going to be stuck with the bill for a thousand dollars worth of caviar and eight hundred dollars worth of wine? Sorry you may get involved in an investigation for credit card fraud? Sorry your bosses are going to be pissed as hell and I’ve just jeopardized your career and your reputation? Jesus, he was an idiot. How had he let himself get roped into this?