A Family Affair: The Secret (16 page)

“Passion and pretense,” Pop said as he eased into his chair and lifted his glass. Oh, he had a good idea what happened. He might be old, but he’d caught Angie Sorrento’s flushed face, the T-shirt bunched to one side, the wilder than usual hair. Yup, that spelled passion, and nobody was telling him any different. Same with Roman. The boy was distracted when he returned from outside, exactly fifteen minutes after Angie. Must have timed his entrance and that always smelled of rotten eggs and guilt. Most people were too busy munching on sandwiches and Pop’s pizzelles or getting antsy about the baby. Pop was just as eager as the rest and just as busy munching, but he was a multitasker, and he knew those two were both outside, and that made him curious. He checked his watch and started timing them the second Roman headed out. Ten minutes, that’s all those two spent outdoors, but that was long enough to get into a lot of trouble…or a lot of passion. Pop zeroed in on his watch again when Angie returned and positioned herself away from Roman’s vacated chair. He stopped checking when the boy returned with a look on his face that said
stunned
.

“Passion and what?” Sal leaned toward Pop, scratched his head.

“Pretense. You know trying to act like something’s true when it’s not.” Pop’s lips hovered in a smile. “Roman and Angie want all of us to think they haven’t noticed each other in a man-woman way. They want us to believe they could never be interested in a life together.” He paused, nodded as the visual of those two swirled in his head. “But that’s not the vibe I got the other night at the hospital. No sir. Those two were covered in passion and pretense; I saw it and I smelled it.”

Sal laughed, finished off his wine. “Smelled it, huh? What did it smell like? Garlic and oil, or parsley and oregano?” He laughed again. “I don’t care if you tasted it, as long as those two end up together and I get a grandbaby.”

“Patience, Sal. All good things take time. What’s Lorraine have to say about the prospect of Angie for a daughter-in-law?”

Sal shot him a look. “You mean a real daughter-in-law, not one who’s afraid to wash dishes and struts around the house in her diamonds?” When Pop raised a brow, Sal held up a hand and said, “Swear on my father’s name, I never seen so much jewelry on one person. Sad that my son thought that kind of woman could bring him happiness. Angela isn’t like that, I can tell.”

Why was Sal dancing around the mulberry bush and not answering Pop’s question about his wife? “So, what about Lorraine? Is she excited?”

Sal shrugged. “She will be.”

“Ah. Sounds like she hasn’t given you the 100 percent approval rating, am I right?” When Sal nodded, Pop grinned. “No worries. We’ll convince her, but right now we have to ramp up the competition.”

“Huh? Why would we do that when we want him to choose Angela?”

“Because he’s not going to like the other choices.” Pop sipped his wine, glanced at the portrait of his dear Lucy. A couple should be so lucky to share the years he and his Lucy had, years filled with love, hope, commitment, laughter. It had all been worth it even if he had to lose her to the cancer in the end, her body thin, her soul tired. Every last second had been worth it.

“What about Natalie Servetti and Charlotte Simmons?”

“Those two.” Pop snorted. “They’re both up to something, and I’m gonna figure out what.”

***

Charlotte had called him three times.
Roman,
I need to see you
, followed by,
There’s no one else I can turn to
, and finally,
I’m afraid. So afraid. Please, please help me
. It was the last one that sent him to their old meeting spot at Boon’s Peak. How could he ignore the plea in her voice filled with what sounded like real fear? For what? Her husband? Roman couldn’t ignore it, though meeting an old girlfriend at the spot where they’d both lost their virginity was not tops on his “need to do” list.

When he arrived, Charlotte was already there, standing next to her gray SUV, dressed in a tank top and shorts. Two children hadn’t filled her out, had actually made her thinner, her face almost gaunt. The high cheekbones had hollowed out more, the neck stretched, the lips thinned. Did kids do that to you? Or was it the marriage that gave a person that crispy, dried-up look? Christine Desantro didn’t have that crispiness to her, neither did Gina Reed, and if he wanted to think pregnancy softened the look, then what about Tess Casherdon? She wasn’t pregnant and she sure looked damn good. Nope. This had to do with Charlotte and whatever was going on in her life.

“Roman, thank you for coming. I’m so glad to see you.” His ex-girlfriend pushed her sunglasses on top of her blond head, clutched his hands. “Let’s go down by the lake.” She linked her arm through his, smiled up at him. “I still come down here every now and then. Steven refuses to step foot in the grass because of his allergies, but I’m fine with that.” She matched his step as they worked their way toward the lake. Wildflowers, grasses, and trees covered either side of the dirt path, the perfect backdrop for a summer afternoon. “Sometimes I bring a blanket and a bottle of wine and I sit over by our tree.” Her voice dipped, turned soft and mellow. “Remember our tree?”

Roman cleared his throat, forced out a single word. “Yes.” How could a guy forget the place he’d made love to the woman he hoped to marry? The dreams they’d shared, the promises they’d made to one another had happened here. But that was a lifetime ago. Time and circumstance had shattered the dreams, snuffed out the promises. Life had happened to them in all of its crazy, convoluted existence and it was too late to go back or pretend it hadn’t.

“There it is.” Charlotte pointed to a huge oak tree surrounded by other oaks, smaller, less majestic. She raced toward it, placed a hand on the trunk, and touched the rough bark like a caress. “Look, Roman, it’s still here.”

He didn’t have to ask for clarification because he knew she meant the etched-out heart with their initials that he’d carved in the tree the first time they made love.
A sign of our love
, he’d said. She’d cried and wrapped her arms around his waist, vowed to love him until she drew her last breath. But that hadn’t been exactly true.

Charlotte traced their initials with her index finger, leaned forward, and planted a soft kiss in the center of the heart. Roman shoved his hands in his pockets, waited. He hadn’t minded listening to her or agreeing to meet because she’d sounded so miserable and because they’d shared a past. But this was getting uncomfortable and heading out of “friendship” territory, into something murky and undefined. Well, he was about to clear up the situation
and
define it. “Charlotte, why are you doing this?”

She eased away from the tree, eyes bright, lips moist. “What?”

“This.” He motioned to the tree. “Bringing me here, kissing the tree, quoting things I said. Why are you doing this?”

She let out a small, fragile cry, moved toward him. “I want to be happy again.” Her voice dipped, cracked. “And I’m not. We were good together.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Don’t you want to feel that way again?”

“We were kids, young and innocent enough to believe we could do anything we wanted.” He didn’t mention how the harsh reality of a false accusation had stripped his innocence or how she’d left him because of it. What was the point? It didn’t matter anymore. Roman gentled his voice, kept his gaze trained on hers. “We aren’t kids anymore. We’re grownups with responsibilities. You have a husband and two children who need you.”

“Of course, my babies need me, and I’ll always be there for them.”

“And Steven?”

A laugh trickled from her, shriveled to a sigh. “Steven doesn’t need anyone, least of all me.”

There were layers of issues in that statement with the truth buried deep inside. Roman had flunked Marriage 101, booted out before the babies came, but he could sniff out relationship problems and this one had them. “What’s really going on with you and your husband?”

Her lips quivered, her shoulders slumped, seconds before she fell against him and let out the painful truth. “Steven is having an affair with Natalie Servetti.”

Roman hadn’t seen that one coming. The Steven Simmons he knew put extra money in his parking meter, just in case. The law profession, the two kids, the four-bedroom house, hell, the car that had been rated one of the safest vehicles on the road—all of those spoke of staying inside the lines of common sense and careful.
But an affair with Natalie?
That was downright stupid. What the hell had gotten into the guy? Okay, sure, Natalie had a way of making a guy lose focus for a second or two, maybe even imagine a visual of what it
could
be like with her, but then reality took over and snuffed it out. And what about Natalie’s claim that she was a better person, a changed person?
Reformed?
Was that all a bunch of bull? And the guy she supposedly was head over heels for, the one she didn’t want to learn about her past—did he know she was sleeping with a married man? Now, because he’d given his damn word, he had to confront Natalie and he was so not looking forward to that. How had he gotten into the middle of this mess? All he’d done was come home to see his father and he’d only done that because of the old man’s heart attack. But then he’d started to pitch in at the grocery store and by the end of the first day, he was managing it. Didn’t matter that he actually enjoyed it; that was beside the point. What mattered was that he’d been minding his own business, counting the days before he could head back to Chicago and his old life, a life that might not contain any “meaningful” relationships except for his business partner and one or two friends, but it wasn’t crammed with headaches either.

But no, this town couldn’t leave him alone. Natalie came after him with her tears and a request for help, Charlotte found him and tried in that subtle way she had to pull him back fourteen years for a second chance. His father had it in his head that he needed a grandchild before he died and he’d enlisted Pop Benito to concoct a plan to make that happen. Those two even had a prime candidate and
that
was the biggest problem of all. Angie Sorrento. Bad enough the woman drove him crazy, but did he have to kiss her, touch her? What the hell was wrong with him? He did not need a complication like Angie Sorrento in his life. Damn it, no. The other night he’d considered a second chance with a town like Magdalena and a woman like Angie. But three days had passed without seeing her and so what if they were avoiding each other? He didn’t
want
to see her, didn’t want the confusion she brought the second she opened her mouth. His mother said Angie had called to say she was at a point in the project where she wouldn’t need help from Sal’s. Help from Sal’s? Interesting way to put it. That reeked of avoidance and only a fool wouldn’t notice and Lorraine Ventori was no fool. Maybe that’s why his mother had been watching him with that just-so-you-know-I-already-know look and popping in with questions about payroll when she’d been handling these decisions herself for years.

Hell, he supposed he’d have to set his mother straight in regard to Angie Sorrento as in the woman had no interest in him, none she’d admit anyway. And he was fine with that, better than fine. He wasn’t chasing after her, no way, not when women fell all over him when he smiled. Yeah, damn straight they did. Who needed a spicy Italian with attitude when he could have his pick of females? Any one of them. His for the choosing. Roman sighed, turned to the computer and clicked on the file that read
Inventory
. That would take his mind off women, relationships, and small-town interferences. It worked for forty-two minutes, right up until the second his office door banged open and Angie Sorrento stormed in looking pissed and ready to take a swing. At him.

“Just because my name ends in a vowel does not mean I’m gonna hook up with you.” She planted her hands on her almost nonexistent hips and spat out, “You got that?”

Roman stared at her, tried to gauge the level of her agitation. He’d guess an eleven out of ten. What had his old man and Pop done now? “Yeah. I got it.”

“I’m sorry your father’s sick, but your inability to find a woman who wants to have your baby is
not
my problem.”

His what? Oh, hell no.
He stood, made his way around the desk to tower over her. “Trust me, there’s never been a question about my ability with women and I could find ten who’d want to have my baby.”

She thrust out her chin as if she seriously doubted his words and made a sound that came out like disgust and disbelief wrapped into one. “If you say so.”

Roman crossed his arms over his chest, stared at her. “My father’s got it in his head that he wants me settled and he wants a grandchild before he dies. He’s become obsessed with the idea, and it doesn’t help that he’s got a partner in Pop Benito.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Those two are working their way down a list of eligible females ages twenty-five to forty, and you’re at the top of it.”

She scowled, her dark eyes narrowing. “Lucky me.” The scowl deepened. “How the heck did I get on the list? I don’t even live here.”

His lips flattened and he thought of holding onto the answer but decided to let it slip out. “But you do have a name that ends in a vowel.”

“I wasn’t serious about that.” She moved toward his desk, plopped down in a chair, and dragged both hands in that mess she called hair. “This has to stop. I’m here to do a job, not find a mate so I can spit out a baby.”