Secrets (52 page)

She raised her mouth and met his with all the tenderness he’d hoped for.

It sank right to his heart, exposing all that stood between them, the secrets, the things unsaid. He sighed. “Rese, I need to tell you…”

She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say it.”

He searched her face, wondering what she’d thought he was going to say.

It couldn’t be what he had intended to say.

“If you’re leaving, just—”

“I’m not leaving.”

She released a slow breath. “You’re not?”

“Not unless you want me to.” And she might, once she learned the truth.

She hadn’t seen him this worked up since she’d almost fired him, and it reminded her that he was not just the comforting person he’d been lately. From the start, he’d been intense and volatile. But not like this, not even when he talked about Tony’s death. He’d been emotional, but now he seemed shaken. Because he wanted what Rico offered?

He might be denying it, even to himself, but making music with Chaz and Rico had brought him to life like nothing else, not even his cooking. She couldn’t compete with that. There was only one thing he seemed to want as much. She said, “Lance, I’m making you the managing partner of the Wayfaring Inn.”

He didn’t exult as she’d expected, just stared at her and said, “Why?”

Why? When he’d been the one imagining his name in lights?

“Because you’re as much a part of the place as I am. I made it strong and beautiful, but you give it life.” She didn’t know what she’d expected, but not the pained look that came into his eyes. Did he want to leave so badly? She said, “Don’t you want that anymore?”

He frowned. “Of course I do.”

Relief rushed in. “We can make it official, draw up an agreement.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I want to.” She wanted it concrete and settled. She might own the property, but the business itself was more Lance’s than she’d wanted to admit, until his friends made his leaving a distinct possibility.

He didn’t speak, just sent his gaze across the vineyard spreading out beyond the chateau.

“Do you need to think about it?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll take the job?”

He put a hand to her waist, but didn’t answer.

Why was he being so unemotive. “I thought you’d be happy.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Wha-a-t, I don’t look happy?” There was his Bronx talk again. Rico had infected him.

“I thought you’d show it. I thought you’d back me into the wall and kiss me.”

“Maybe I don’t kiss my partner.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Right.”

He released a slow breath. “I’m just trying to see it.”

“I’ll put it on paper. And I won’t interfere. You can do everything your way.”

“That’s hardly a partnership.”

She huffed. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted? She straightened.

“Don’t do that.” He reached out and took her hand.

“Do what?”

“Get all stiff and rigid.”

“Well, I’m a little perplexed.”

“More like exasperated.” He smiled.

“Torqued.” She glared.

“Scary.”

She gave him a shove.

He caught her wrists. “You wanna mix it up, woman? Cuz I am more than a match for anything you can throw my way.”

She scoffed. “Until I give you what you want. Then you stand there like a mime all lost and confused.”

“Well, I am lost and confused. But it’s never stopped me before.”

“So we have a deal?” She all but hollered it.

“Oh, baby, do we have a deal.” He pressed her back against the wall.

“You must have been a serious discipline problem.”

“Still am.”

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Because he was incorrigibly obstinate.

“Because there’s a limit to my control.”

“Hah. You’d control the world if someone gave it to you.”

“Not that control.”

It hit her like a hammer, almost taking out her legs.

He groaned. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ll do whatever I say.”

But she would.

They stood there long enough for her legs to solidify, then he let go of her. “Can you walk?”

She glared. “Of course.”

His mouth pulled up slowly. “Nails.” Then he released a slow breath.“Hope I can.”

Well, he could hardly have made his situation worse. Partners in the Wayfaring Inn? Managing partner, she’d said. Everything his way. He hadn’t believed she would do it. What was she thinking, handing over the business? But she wasn’t thinking. That had been perfectly clear.

He squeezed the Harley’s grips. She might have given her crew man a black eye, but she’d been sweet invitation for him against that wall. Surrender in the least likely woman. And she didn’t even see it.
What am I supposed to
do with that, Lord?
Rese had gone from a sneering, domineering termagant to an appealing woman he respected and desired. And he had her in the palm of his hand.

Did Rico have it right? He’d watched Tony operate, helping, comforting, becoming indispensable. What woman wouldn’t want that? And what man wouldn’t realize … and use it? As he was with Rese? Lance leaned the bike around a curve; Rese leaning too, with none of her early stiffness, no resistance; she flowed in tandem with him. Exactly what he’d wanted?

He’d almost said no to her offer, told her she should think about it. She might have experience with a crew in her field, but she was awfully na¨?ve in this. So why had he said yes? Because he wanted it. For her, and for himself.

He slowed to enter the driveway and nearly hit Evvy waving her cane with a look of urgency that jerked his heart. He put the bike into a skid, wheeling around behind her. “What’s wrong, Evvy?”

“It’s Ralph. His heart.” Hers looked none too steady. “I need to get there.” Her eyes glassed with tears.

Rese climbed off. “Use the truck. I’ll get the keys.” She hurried for the house as he helped Evvy to the truck. She probably didn’t have the strength for the bike today, and Rese was thinking clearly. With Evvy between them, she drove to the care facility as he directed her and sustained Evvy.

Ralph had seemed tremulous when they visited him—warm and loving, but not altogether connected to this world anymore. Lance knew the helplessness Evvy must feel, as though the air had been sucked from her lungs and left her in a vacuum. Was it only weeks ago he’d been in a similar hospital room with Nonna, hoping and praying it wasn’t the end? He knew her time was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier saying good-bye.

The room held several brusque staff members who moved for Evvy to approach on his arm. Though she weighed next to nothing, it seemed Lance held her up by that arm alone. Ralph was awake in the bed, but didn’t seem to know her or anyone else. His face was a picture of pain, physical maybe, but psychological for sure. He didn’t know what was happening, and he was scared.

Lance seated Evvy up next to the bed, and the staff quietly dispersed. The smell this time was heavily medicinal, and he noted the IV and other monitors. As Evvy took Ralph’s hand, Lance slipped out past Rese in the doorway to gauge the situation. Since he wasn’t family, they gave him no details, but they did say Ralph’s son was on his way, if he could get a flight, and it was good that Evvy had come directly.

Taking Rese by the hand, Lance went back in and stood a short distance from the bed. Evvy spoke in low tones, explaining who she was and asking whether Ralph understood or not, and he clung to her hand. Lance had images of Nonna, pleading to be understood, to understand. He ached.
Lord, have mercy
.

Evvy murmured, “If you have the fight left in you, use it now, my darling man. If not, the Lord has a place prepared for you. And I’ll be there soon to share it.”

Ralph met her eyes and held them. “Evvy.” His voice was so weak, Lance was surprised to hear him at all. What he uttered next stopped the breath in Lance’s chest. It was the intimate phrase Nonno Marco had saved for Antonia,
La mia vita ed il mio amore
.

Lance closed his eyes as Ralph’s gaze dulled and his hand slipped from Evvy’s. This was how it ought to be: a long life, a peaceful death. But he stood, fighting tears for a man he hadn’t known, unsure why he felt the loss except that Ralph had been somehow connected and now that thread was gone. More than that, Lance tasted the bitter ash of Evvy’s grief. That was always the hardest for him, seeing someone suffer.

The monitors signaled Ralph’s departure, and someone came and turned them off. Evvy murmured, “ ‘Give thanks to the Lord for he is good; his love endures forever.’ My hope is in the Lord.” Then the room was silent a long time.

Rese had not spoken a word, and he wondered if this was churning her recent loss. According to Brad, she’d checked out for a while at her dad’s traumatic death. He wasn’t sure how much she remembered even now. Maybe she shouldn’t have come, but if she was upset, it didn’t show.

He understood that better now. She wasn’t stone; she was strong. Not uncaring, guarded. Her concerns about her lack of emotions were unfounded. He saw them now that he knew what to look for. Leaning together at an angle of repose, they found a balance neither had alone.

But Ralph’s death kindled a fear that Nonna could be gone before he had the chance to bring her peace. He had to do that, but without hurting Rese. How could he bring it all together? He was trying to do God’s will, but he was still giving away that Mickey Mantle card.

It was all she could do to stand there with Lance as Ralph died. There was no blood, no panic, no struggle, but it was still death. And Evvy’s words had speared her.

It was like that part in Lance’s Bible, boasting in affliction—but thanking God for love and goodness even when He’d taken someone away? There was something radical in their faith, something unnatural. You didn’t thank someone who hurt you. You might not strike back. You sure didn’t show it. But thank?

When Jake let the air out of the truck’s tires she rescheduled her bid; when Sam poured syrup in her toolbox she did not retaliate or even complain. She’d heard them calling her the Stone Goddess because she’d cleaned it up without a tirade. She endured it all, but she did not appreciate it. There was no gratitude! That would have invited scorn and humiliation, when at least she had grudging respect.

She wanted to tell Lance and Evvy how wrong they had it, but she kept going back to the moment Ralph left and sensing a difference. Maybe it was no more than the obvious; she didn’t know, didn’t love him. His death wasn’t violent and premature. But she couldn’t shake the thought that the manner of death was not the point.

Leaning into Lance’s shoulder, she closed her eyes and saw herself running, Dad falling, all the awful details. But what haunted her now was the moment he slipped away.
“Be strong.”

There had been a determined look on his face, not the surrender she’d seen minutes ago. She didn’t want an eternity with Jesus or without, not when some could make a choice that others refused…. Why should death be different from one person to the next?
Why should it be up to us to choose
or reject what Jesus did—if He did it, if any of it was real at all
.

But the room was filled with an awful peace, a finality that left her groping. If Lance was not holding her up, she’d collapse as she had that time on the scaffolding, all her strength sapped. Dad had charged her to be strong, to withstand everything life threw her way. Maybe he’d known more than she’d thought about the crew’s pranks, ignored or … encouraged it. If he thought it for her own good, had he toughened her up intentionally?