Teardrop Lane (2 page)

“Do you agree with his assessment?”

“Absolutely not!” Gabi made no attempt to hide her annoyance. “I have plenty of fire. But I also have family. I missed them.”

He shouldn’t be surprised. By the end of her first week in his studio on the island, Cicero had known that Gabi came from a tight-knit clan. She talked about them incessantly. As someone who’d grown up in the foster care system, he’d been both attracted to and repelled by the way the Romanos appeared to live in one another’s pockets.

“I was homesick,” Gabi continued. “Last year was—difficult.”

Flynn rested a supportive hand on Gabi’s shoulder, and said, “
Difficult
is an understatement. Gabi’s scars aren’t as visible as mine, but—”

“Last year was a bitch for you both,” Cicero interrupted. “I get that.”

It had been one of the factors behind his decision to approach Alessandro on Gabi’s behalf. In May, Gabi
had been aboard Flynn’s sailing yacht in the Caribbean when it was set upon by pirates. She had taken one man’s life that day; Flynn had killed two. The fallout from the event had wounded Gabi’s heart, and all but destroyed Flynn, but they had fought their way back to health and now, apparently, to each other.

“You’ve been a great friend to both of us, Cicero,” Gabi said, her tone heartfelt. “Flynn and I both recognize and treasure that. And the opportunity you gave me—it’s been magical.”

“So magical that you’re ready to throw it aside?”

“Not at all. I’m not saying that at all. If you don’t get on board with this idea, then I’ll go back to Italy.”

“
We
will go,” Flynn said. “I can work anywhere.”

Gabi flashed Flynn a quick, intimate smile, then returned an imploring gaze to Cicero. “But I’d rather we be in Eternity Springs. It’s where my heart is whole and where my fire is free to burn. Alessandro is a fine teacher, Cicero, but so are you. Maybe he’s right and I’ll never produce gallery-quality work. But it’s also possible that he’s wrong. Maybe if I’m home and happy and surrounded by loved ones, I’ll be able to create something spectacular. Eternity Springs is a special place. Just ask Sage Rafferty. She’ll be the first to say that living in Eternity Springs inspires her work.”

Sage Rafferty owned the town’s art gallery and had made a name for herself in the art world for her boldly colored, whimsical paintings. She’d spoken enthusiastically about her hometown and its influence on her work in an interview he’d read in an art scene magazine recently. Cicero knew better than to dismiss the power of inner peace for an artist. Wasn’t the lack of it showing in his work these days?

And yet, his obligations to Jayne caused him to miss so much studio time lately that he didn’t see how he could commit to teaching Gabi anything.

“My hours here aren’t regular. It’ll take you eight years to learn from me what Alessandro would teach you in eight months.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you underestimate yourself, Cicero.”

That coaxed a grin from him. Underestimating himself had never been an issue of his.

“Cute, Romano.”

“You also have more patience with your apprentices, and that makes it easier to learn.”

“You lose a point there. I’m not patient at all.”

“I didn’t say you had an abundance of patience. I said you had more than Alessandro.” She leaned forward in her chair, her blue eyes gleaming earnestly. “I know this plan slows down my progress, but it also allows me to be around to watch my nieces and nephew grow. I didn’t realize how much that mattered to me until I left home. They change so fast, especially that first year. I don’t want to miss it.”

“So you’re giving up your opportunity for kids? Somebody else’s kids, at that?”

“This from the man who traded the aquamarine of the Caribbean for Gulf of Mexico gray in order to be nearer to his sister and her children?”

Cicero’s gaze shifted to the stack of invoices on his desk. Houston Oncology. MD Anderson Cancer Center. Physician’s Services.

“The two situations are completely different.”

Gabi’s eyes softened with sympathy. “How is Jayne doing?”

“Good,” he replied, trying to believe it. “She’s good.” Then, to ward off any further questions about his sister, he added, “You can watch kids grow by viewing pictures on the Internet. You don’t have to be in the same town.”

“But I
want
to be in the same town. I recognize that
it’s a trade-off. Life is a series of trade-offs. I can be passionate about glass and passionate about people, too. I’m searching for the right balance between the two. I know you understand that. You would never have left Bella Vita otherwise.”

No, balance had nothing to do with his return to the United States, though he did understand the concept.

“I can be of help to you here in Texas, Cicero. My training in Italy was intense. I’m good enough now for tourist work. You can shift things like Valentine’s Day goblets to me, and free Mitch up to help you with your work.”

Cicero sat back in his chair. “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”

“I’ve put a lot of thought into it, and—oh.” She snapped her fingers. “I forgot to mention one other applicable point. The remodel schedule. I know you’ve had trouble with the contractor you hired. Harold Benton does fabulous work but as he’s gotten older, he’s really slowed down. With someone on hand to encourage him, you’ll get better, faster results. Especially if that someone is me. He owes me.”

“Why?”

She pursed her lips. “Let’s just say that when I worked as a sheriff’s deputy, I used my discretionary power in his favor.”

“Always handy to have the law in one’s corner, I guess.” Cicero picked up a pen and drummed the tip against the desktop. Gabi, her arguments made, sat back in her seat and waited quietly, though judging by the nervous tapping of her toes, less than patiently. Flynn’s attention drifted to the studio where Mitch removed a gather of glass from the furnace.

Cicero surveyed the clutter on his desktop and mentally shifted his money around. No matter how many ways he shuffled, he always came up short. Times had
certainly changed since last summer when he committed to the Colorado studio. As someone lucky enough to have had only rare dealings with the medical industry prior to this, he’d been woefully naïve about the financial costs of exceptional treatment. In hindsight, he should have never jumped into the Eternity Springs expansion so fast.

Getting the Eternity Springs store stocked and open for the tourist season could be a godsend to his cash flow. He’d already sunk a pretty penny into purchasing the old church property and starting the remodel. Most of the materials were paid for. He still had some credit left. Maybe once Harold Benton finished up the loft apartment where he’d planned to stay during his visits, he could rent it out. Get someplace cheap to live. He didn’t need much. Maybe—

Maybe he could think of something more self-serving than to agree to Gabi’s proposition, but he’d have to try damned hard
.

Murano. Venice. Italy. The three years he’d spent there had molded him into the artist he was today. That training showed in every piece he produced. She simply didn’t know yet how important this time was to her art.

He tossed his pen onto the desk. “Gabi, I don’t agree with Alessandro. I’ve seen pictures of the work you’ve been producing, and I believe you do have the talent to be an exceptional glass artist. I would be doing you a disservice if I agreed to this. Alessandro is—”

“Not as good as you,” she interrupted. “He might have more experience and a flashier reputation and a studio in the most famous glass city in the world, but Alessandro isn’t as good as you are. He will never inspire me the way you do.”

The vehemence in her tone, along with the declaration itself, took him aback. What had Alessandro been thinking to say the woman lacked fire? Flynn Brogan is a
lucky man. Then, just to goad her, he arched a brow toward Flynn. “You let your woman say such things to another man?”

“
Let
me!” Gabi exclaimed.

Flynn laughed. “Gabriella Romano is very much her own woman, as you well know. It’s one of the reasons why we both love her.”

“True enough.” He gave her a wolfish once-over and added, “I should never have yielded the field to you, Brogan.”

Flynn’s expression oozed self-satisfaction. “Doesn’t matter. You never stood a chance with her.”

“Confident of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me. I’m sitting right here!”

Both men ignored that.

Cicero recognized the instant when Flynn’s gaze went from amused to serious. He propped a hip on the corner of Cicero’s desk, and his voice resonated with sincerity as he said, “I’m confident in her. As so should you be. Our Gabi is loyal and honest and insightful. She has excellent instincts. She is passionate about her work and passionate about her world. Listen to her. Trust her. Believe in her.”

Cicero absently fanned the corner of the stack of invoices on his desk, and in an uncommon moment of openness replied, “I’m afraid I’ve lost the ability to believe in much of anything.”

Gabi reached out and covered his hand with hers. “In that case, you need to get to Colorado as quickly as possible. I know it sounds corny, but you can believe in the magic of Eternity Springs.”

“It changed my life,” Flynn agreed. “It can change yours, too.”

“I don’t need magic. I need a miracle.”

Gabi’s smile went as bright as the furnace. “Hey, we do miracles, too. Just ask my sister-in-law, Hope.”

Before Cicero could respond to that, a colorful whirlwind of noise and motion burst through the studio’s front door.

“Uncle Skunk!” Seven-year-old Keenan exclaimed. “Where are you, Uncle Skunk?”

“Hey, Uncle Hunk,” called nine-year-old Misty. “Wait until you hear what happened at school!”

The sister of his heart, Jayne Prochaska, carried two-year-old Daisy in her arms and offered him an apologetic smile. “Junior? I’m so sorry, but Amy isn’t answering her phone and I need to run into Houston. Could you watch the kids for a little bit?”

“Unc Nooner!” Five-year-old Galen exclaimed. “Do you have any candy?”

“Uncle Nooner?” Flynn repeated, his brows arched and his lips twitching. “Man, am I going to have fun with that.”

Cicero opened his mouth, then shut it. What could he possibly say? Some things that came from a four-year-old’s mouth simply went beyond explanation. He closed his eyes briefly, shook his head, then grasped the lifeline Gabi had offered. “I’ll agree to your proposal on one condition.”

Warily, she asked, “What’s that?”

“Babysitting.”

She narrowed her eyes warily. “How much babysitting?”

“I won’t abuse you. Much.”

Gabi made a theatrical grimace, though he could tell her heart was singing. “All right, we have a deal,
Uncle Hunk
.”

February
Eternity Springs, Colorado

Rose Anderson removed her stethoscope from her ears and patted the silver-haired gentleman on his knee. “Your heart sounds just fine, Mr. Henderson.”

“It’s not my heart that’s paining me, Doctor,” he grumbled. “I told you I broke my ankle!”

“I think it’s sprained, but the EMT will be here to transport you to the clinic any moment now for an X ray. Dr. Coulson will fix you right up.”

“Dr. Coulson! What about you? You’re my doctor.”

Inwardly, Rose sighed. “I’m not on call tonight.”

“Then why are you wearing your white coat?”

Rose searched for patience. She wasn’t going to discuss details about her upcoming laundry day with Gilbert Henderson. “Dr. Coulson will take excellent care of you. There’s no need for concern.”

The septuagenarian scowled. “He’s not as pretty to look at as you. His bosom doesn’t brush up against me when he examines me.”

“For this we can all be grateful,” Rose deadpanned.

“You’re a prize to look at, Doctor Rose. The Irish is stamped across you. I’ve always taken a shine to red-headed,
green-eyed girls. Bet you burn in the summertime if you’re not careful. How come you’re not married?”

The question could have made Rose angry, but she’d grown accustomed to it being asked. She didn’t hear it as often since moving to Eternity Springs—one of the pluses to small-town living. People ferreted out what they wanted to know about you quickly, and once they did, word got around even faster. Her friends, acquaintances, and patients knew her story by now.

Unfortunately, Mr. Henderson had a bit of dementia going on.

Ignoring the query, she said, “I know the ankle is tender now, but unless Dr. Coulson finds something on the X ray, I predict that you’ll be back to dancing in a couple of weeks.”

Her patient crooked his finger for her to bend closer, then he all but bellowed into her ear. “What about
S-E-X
? It is Valentine’s Day, after all.”

Yes, my personal Halloween
. Rose patted his knee and told herself that she didn’t care that this senior citizen had a more active love life than she did.

“Talk to Dr. Coulson about that.”

Thankfully, the EMTs showed up and assisted Gilbert Henderson from the Angel’s Rest activities center. As Rose tucked her stethoscope back into her bag, Celeste Blessing glided up beside her. Celeste was Eternity Springs’s angel investor, the person whose idea—and whose financial stake—had created Angel’s Rest Healing Center and Spa, and spurred the economic revitalization of this little mountain town. An active and interested Judi Dench look-alike, Celeste had uncanny instincts, which she used to the benefit of those she befriended. And Celeste made friends with everybody. Rose adored her.