Coming Home to Love (Lakeside Porch Series Book 2) (4 page)

“How did Ms. Dupioni come to that conclusion?”

So she’s Gianessa Dupioni?
“Dupioni as in ‘silk’ or as in ‘duplicitous’?”

“Gianessa, duplicitous? Maybe you
should
see a psychologist. It’s Dupioni, like naturally flawed silk, stunning in its beauty, artfully arranged as only a Northern Italian woman can be. Her father came to this country from the heartland of the Italian fashion industry.”

“He’s in fashion?”

“He has a restaurant.”

“And is Ms. Dupioni married? Divorced?”

“She’s doing her best to recover from devastating personal losses, and I’ll thank you to consider her off limits.” Joel’s tone left no room for argument.

“I heard that.”
Maybe it’s temporary. I’ll check back
. “As for the gluten thing, she nailed my symptoms, including the weight loss and muscle depletion and fatigue. And when she learned that my symptoms stopped and reversed themselves during my months in Indonesia, she suspected grains we used in the West, such as wheat and barley and rye.”

“Perhaps that’s why you gave up beer.”

Justin guffawed. “Never thought of that. It did make me puke. Whiskeys as well. And now I’m done with alcohol, just as you are. Haven’t had a drink in six or seven years.”

“You’re not saying you’re an alcoholic?”

“I don’t know. I lost myself out there somewhere in the world of high finance, and I thought I’d find myself again when I stopped drinking. But I haven’t yet, and I need to quit high finance, too. It holds nothing for me anymore. I need to be here, to learn from you.”

Joel’s open mouth and furrowed brow told Justin he hadn’t seen that coming. “Learn what from me?” Joel probed.

“Learn how to care about people the way you do. How to feel with my heart without it being too painful to bear. And anything else you have to teach me.” He stood abruptly and shoved his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. “You’re getting tired. I should go.”

“Bullshit. You’re getting to the truth. Take your coat off. Stay a while. Let’s get room service and catch up with each other.”

Justin chuckled.

“You think I’m kidding? I’ve bribed one of the aides. Shauna will make a run on demand to that coffee shop near Mt. Hope Cemetery I told you about.”

“Good place. Manda and I ate lunch there. Great salads. My favorite is the Frederick Douglass. Without the croutons now, I suppose. You?”

“The Susan B. Anthony. You make the call. I’ll page Shauna.”

Once Shauna was dispatched for their salads, Joel found a comfortable position, and Justin settled back in the armchair.

Joel spoke first. “Why quit the work you’ve done for decades? You thrived on it. Making deals, sniffing out opportunities, financing new ventures, getting appointed to corporate boards, raking in millions. Billions for all I know.”

Justin confirmed it with a nod.

“Are you really quitting or just pulling my leg?”

“I’ve shut down my office in London. You know my arrival here was delayed.”

“Yes, but not why.”

“I was in a research hospital in Chicago for a week, trying to understand what had gone wrong with my body. The two weeks after, I was in treatment in Arizona to build up my blood—something about electrolytes, minerals, vitamin levels.

“I did a lot of soul searching and decided to quit my venture capital business entirely. I flew back to London, tied up loose ends, logged on to Facebook, and found Manda’s pleas for help.”

“Didn’t the hospital make an effort to contact you?”

“Yes, but I had turned off my phone and closed my office. The doctors had no way to reach me, except through Manda’s ingenuity with social media. The timing could not have been worse, and you have my most sincere apology.”

Joel steadied himself with a deep breath. His voice wavered when he asked, “When you said you were tying up loose ends, did you think you were dying?”

“No. I meant I needed to be done with empty pursuits. Don’t laugh, but on the flight to London, I thought about becoming a Buddhist monk, if there is such a thing. Then I saw Manda’s messages and knew what I needed—to be here with you and get right with myself.”

“You used to thrive on your work,” Joel persisted.

Justin nodded pensively. “I did thrive on it. Ten years ago, I was enjoying the good life in Switzerland with Alexa. We had some good years together. Then I saw she was betraying me. I moved back to London, drank heavily, dated smart, beautiful women, and worked. On the road I had my pick of women offered by my business partners. I became disgusted with myself, I won’t say why.

“I took stock of what I had accomplished and saw that I wasn’t benefiting anyone but myself and the companies I represented. That’s an empty existence, Joel. I—”

Justin jumped from the chair as the door to the hospital room burst open.

Shauna juggled a heavy bag and a drink caddy with two tall espresso drinks.

“Good woman!” Justin said heartily and offloaded the drinks. Shauna set down the bag on the tray table by Joel’s bed. Justin’s generous tip netted him a million-dollar smile from Shauna and an eye roll from Joel.

“Since when is giving a tip cause for an eye roll?” he asked after the door closed.

“She’s already been well compensated.”

“Which I should have known,
mea culpa
.”

“Just eat.”

The salads consumed, Joel proposed, “Let’s hear more about this ‘disoriented’ feeling. I’m good for about fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll sum it up in two sentences. I’m not who I was when I left here in my twenties. I’m not sure who I am now, and I don’t have my work.” He brightened. “But I have a challenge in front of me. You’ve entrusted me with cleaning up the mess at Tompkins College, and I will do my utmost in your place as trustee.”

“You know what you’re dealing with.” Joel had already filled him in on the embezzlement at the expense of students, with collusion in high places. Plus the sexual exploitation of students by a few professors, and its widespread cover-up. “All of it needs to be cleaned up for the college to continue. Or those persons need to be fired and the college closed down.”

“Agreed. But, Joel, what I do about the college will define me in Tompkins Falls. I’m sincere about wanting to live here long term. Closing the college is the simplest solution, but the worst for the town and for my reputation in Tompkins Falls.”

Joel muttered, “Wish I’d never inherited the damn college.”

“It’s been run by scoundrels from the day it opened. If you hadn’t the integrity you have, and if you hadn’t insisted on an investigation, it would go on as it always has.”

“It has to stop, Justin. You have to stop it.” Joel’s distress alarmed Justin.

“I will,” Justin said forcefully, laying a hand on Joel’s arm. “And you have to heal. If I took your blood pressure right now, it’d be off the charts.”

Joel managed a weak smile. “I can picture you wrestling with a blood pressure cuff.”

Justin barked a laugh. “Let’s try it! Where can I find one?”

“Seriously, don’t make me laugh,” Joel pleaded. “You can play it out however you want with the college. I know you have the skill. Remember, money is not the object.”

“And what is?” Justin folded his arms across his chest.

“Two things. The economic health of the town. And your own principles.”

“Imagine me having principles,” Justin mused.

“You know you do.”

“Maybe I’ll get in touch with them now.” He opened his arms and raised his hands.

“Bet on it. Use them, and it will be fine, however it turns out.”

“If you could have any outcome, Joel, what would it be?”

“I want the criminals out of there, along with the people who covered it up. That amounts to about one third of the employees, as far as we can tell. Is it possible to rebuild a college with just two-thirds of its people? I don’t know, but I’d prefer to have the good people protected and jobs saved for the sake of the town.”

“That’s what I thought. I will not involve you further, you have my promise. Now get some sleep.”

Joel’s eyes had already closed.

Justin stood by the bed, watching Joel’s chest rise and fall, hearing his breaths deepen and lengthen.
How can I resolve this without Joel as a sounding board?

When Joel’s face relaxed in sleep, Justin left the room and ambled down the hall, hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat.

Who can I trust that has no stake in the college?
At the elevator he thought back to his recent dinner in New York City with his old lover, Sydney Shorey. They’d been hot and heavy during their graduate studies in Chicago. She was now happily remarried to her first husband, Danny and, more importantly, was now president of a small college in New York City.
Perfect sounding board
. He’d give her a call tonight.

The elevator dinged.

Justin cracked a smile, remembering what Sydney had predicted at dinner, after her second vodka martini: that Justin would marry within the year.

Chapter 3

Gianessa wrapped her arms around her middle and willed the shivering to stop. She silently intoned a litany of affirmations
. I’m getting warmer. I’m right next to the heater. The scalding tea will cool enough to drink. I will buy a coat as soon as I get paid
. She added out loud, “And gloves.”

“Gianessa?”

Gianessa opened her eyes and locked with a pair of sapphire blue ones.

“I’m Manda. You gave me a massage at the Manse last week.”

“Of course.” Gianessa recognized the woman’s artless black curls and sculpted cheekbones. “You’re Joel’s fiancée, right?”

“And you’re freezing.” Manda draped her coat over Gianessa’s shoulders and sat down next to her.

Gianessa nodded. “Thank you for not saying ‘crazy’. I don’t own a coat or a car.” A sob rose in her throat.

Warm hands covered hers, and she felt the heat spread all the way to her troubled mind.

She took a deep breath and let it out. “I ran five blocks. I just needed a meeting so badly.”

Manda picked up the cup of tea next to Gianessa’s chair. “Hold it with both hands. Drink.”

Gianessa felt warmth all the way to her belly.

“Don’t do anything that foolish again. The cold is dangerous, and people die of hypothermia. I’ll drive you home tonight and loan you my coat until you get one.”

Gianessa started to protest but saw the wisdom. “Thank you. My denial will kill me. I’m so glad I came.”

Someone nearby whispered, “Quiet.”

The Tuesday night Top Shelf Women’s meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous started with a moment of silence and several standard readings about the twelve steps and the promises of the AA program.

Gianessa heard the words—so important to her, so familiar—but from another place and time. She let tears run down her face. It had cost her dearly in peace of mind to be away from meetings for so long, and she hadn’t fully realized it until she sat on a folding chair at a meeting in a church basement.

When the chairperson asked if anyone had thought about a drink today, her hand lifted automatically. She told them about the champagne bubbles that shocked her out of her meditation this morning. And she laughed about “a new customer at the spa today” that she couldn’t get out of her head. She promised not to bore them with the hundred little things in the past few weeks that had made her cranky and discouraged.

“That is all so unlike me. I haven’t even tried to make friends because I feel so vulnerable. How stupid is that? Instead of screwing up my courage, I’ve been standoffish.” Gianessa sighed. “I’m my own worst enemy. What’s that phrase, ‘My mind is a dangerous neighborhood to visit alone’?”

The women laughed and nodded.

Gianessa accepted the box of tissues someone passed to her. She smiled her thanks, used one to wipe away her tears, and set about blowing her nose with the rest.

“I’ll get you some more tea,” Manda whispered.

Gianessa nodded.

She knew her AA program could restore her to sanity if she got back in the habit of meetings and got connected to a group here in Tompkins Falls. With a heavy sigh, she admitted that, by herself, she couldn’t get Justin Cushman and his cute butt out of her head. The last thing she needed was involvement with a client. Who was also the boss’s uncle. And, by the way, fifteen or so years older. And sometimes arrogant and demanding.

Manda set the scalding mug of tea between their chairs just as Gianessa muttered, “Screw Justin Cushman.”

Manda gasped.

Gianessa shook her head. “Sorry, bad choice of words.”

Manda leaned closer and confided, “I feel that way sometimes, too.”

Gianessa covered her mouth to smother a giggle.

When she’d finished her tea and set down the cup, she whispered to Manda, “You’re an angel.”

Manda snorted, “As if.”

“So,” Manda said into the silence in the car, “where did you get sober?”

“California. Palo Alto originally, and then I made a total mess of my life about four years ago—drunk driving with my baby daughter in the car, both of us injured. Then a pill addiction and divorce. I got clean and moved north of San Francisco, because it was the only place I could find work in my field. I’ve been clean and sober since, but I haven’t been to meetings since I left the coast, and I’ve been trying to handle everything by myself. Today I . . .”

Manda just nodded. She had no idea what to say next. She wasn’t going to touch the “Screw Justin Cushman” line. Justin was difficult. And manipulative. Hell, he was obnoxious sometimes.

He must have been poking around the Manse. Maybe he was the “new customer at the spa” and he’d gotten a massage from Gianessa, which he’d probably loved. Whether Gianessa was angry at Justin or had the hots for him, Manda didn’t want to know.

She cranked up the heat as high as it would go. She was shivering without a coat. “You had to be desperate to walk without a coat in this weather. It’s gotten a lot colder this week. It must be twenty degrees tonight.” She poked a button to display the outside temperature. “Twenty-eight.”

“Yes, I was desperate, you’re right.”

Manda’s memory kicked in, and she heard herself say, “When I got sober last winter, my life was a disaster, and I had no idea how to get out of the jam I was in. Some asshole professor was stalking me, and one night he slashed a razor right through my warmest jacket, which also made it a bloody mess. I had to wear every layer of clothes I had when I went outdoors, until spring. So I understand about needing a coat.”

“How awful. Our disease takes us to terrible places.”

“Amen. I’d be dead without the program.”

“When I get away from meetings, I get crazy; when I’m working my program, I’m calm and serene and focused.”

“I know. You were serene when you gave me a body wrap and massage last week. It freaked me out to see you have a meltdown tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” Gianessa said. “I remember you. Remy told me you were Joel’s sweetheart, and then he said, ‘Ooh la la. Such a story
ma petite
has to tell.’”

Manda laughed at her perfect imitation of the spa director’s French accent. She’d been a little worried that Gianessa’s tone was flat, but suddenly her laugh was musical.

“But then he wouldn’t tell me your story.” Gianessa turned toward her with a sunny smile. “Sometime I want to hear more about your story and about you meeting Joel and falling in love.”

“I’ll probably speak at the Top Shelf meeting in March when I have a year. Where do I turn?”

“Left at the next block. I’m sharing a townhouse with another woman who works at the Manse. Do you know Sara?”

Manda grinned. “I sure do. We’re thrift-shop buddies.” She made the left turn. “Is that how you get to work every day without a car?”

Gianessa nodded. “I’m lucky she’s willing to cart me around. But she’s not in the program, and I wouldn’t ask her to drive me to meetings.”

“AA people will give you rides to meetings if you ask. How about going with me to Happy Hour tomorrow right after work, and I’ll introduce you around? Carol will be there. She’s the one who talked to us at the end of the meeting.”

“She’s also the one who answered my phone call this afternoon. I recognized her name and her voice. That was nice of her to give me her phone number and offer to be my temporary sponsor.”

“We’ll pick up a phone list at Happy Hour, too.”

“Perfect, thanks.”

“I’m an accountant at the Mansa, and I know you get paid this week. Just a suggestion, if you’re free Saturday or Sunday, I’m going to Rochester to visit Joel both days. You can meet him, and then we’ll go to Eastview. There’s a huge sale at L.L. Bean’s. Unbelievable discounts on winter coats and stuff.”

“What is L.L. Bean’s?”

“Seriously?”
Maybe they don’t have duck hunting on the West Coast
. “It’s a big outdoor-wear, sportswear and sporting goods store that a lot of people on the East Coast swear by. Good quality, and a good match for our weather.” As Manda stopped the Volvo in front of Sara and Gianessa’s townhouse, her teeth were beginning to chatter. “Some of the coats are good to forty below.”

Gianessa turned to her with wide eyes. “Forty below . . . zero degrees?”

Manda backpedaled. “It doesn’t get that cold here. I think the worst I’ve seen is twenty below.”

Gianessa took a deep breath and whispered, “I’m okay. I can do this.” She cleared her throat. “I’m working Saturday but I’m free all day Sunday, so anytime that works for you. I really appreciate it.” She scribbled her cell number for Manda and dashed to the front door.

Tony Pinelli let out a whistle. “Slick,” he pronounced, tapping his fingers on the plans spread out in front of him. He’d had his doubts about turning the ugly old garage at the Manse into a therapy suite for Joel’s recovery, but now that he saw the plans he knew it would work. It might even become a destination suite after Joel moved out.

The project foreman, Ralph, gave a grunt of agreement. “Only problem, they need it done yesterday.”

“No way. Joel’s still in the hospital, and he’s having more surgery Monday morning.” He examined the cavernous, multi-bay garage. They’d already gutted the structure, power-cleaned the concrete floors and insulated the floor on the far side, beyond the load-bearing columns. And he’d seen the hole they’d dug last week, behind the garage, for the therapy pool.

Ralph’s gaze sharpened. “How do you know that?”

“Joel’s a buddy, and I was the one driving when we had the accident.”

Tony watched Ralph’s face for any sign of blame or censure.

Ralph grinned. “So that’s how come you got that shiny new red truck in the dead of winter?”

Tony let out a breath of relief. “Yeah, the old white one was totaled. I’d been saving to get one next summer. The insurance money gave me enough extra to get what I wanted right away.”

Ralph clapped a hand on his shoulder, the one that had been steadily improving through physical therapy. “So you got your own red rider wagon for Christmas?”

Tony grinned. “That’s what my girlfriend said, too. She even made me a Radio Flyer pilot’s license. I guess her little nephew got one with his red wagon, and she found out how to get one for me.”

“She sounds like a keeper.”

Tony beamed. “Yes, sir, she is.”

They returned their attention to the set of construction drawings spread out on a sheet of plywood on saw horses. Ralph explained the aggressive schedule. “Crew’s coming this morning to finish insulating the floor. This afternoon they’ll start the laminate flooring and finish it overnight. It’s faster than hardwood, and we can’t go with carpeting because he’ll be in a chair for a while.”

Tony felt that in his gut.
Joel in a wheelchair
.

“You okay?”

Tony gave up a prayer to get his emotions under control. Maybe other people didn’t blame him for skidding on black ice and plummeting into the trees, but he blamed himself for the accident. This was his big chance to help Joel’s recovery, and he meant to do all he could on this construction project. He nodded for Ralph to continue.

“Framing crew will put up the studs tomorrow morning. Insulation goes into the walls tomorrow right after. Dry wall starts tomorrow night. Kitchen and bathroom—”

“There’s plumbing already?”

Ralph nodded. “We roughed it in last week, when we dug the hole for the pool. We’re just lucky the ground hadn’t frozen yet. The real cold snap started this week. This time of year, you don’t expect a break like that.”

“You got all the worker bees you need?”

“Depends on how much you can handle yourself. I know you got banged up in that accident.”

Tony showed him his doctor’s release with the current restrictions. They talked about his tasks over the next two weeks, and Ralph drew up a schedule.

“Looks like we could use another carpenter who can also do the heaviest lifting in the kitchen area,” Ralph concluded.

“I know a guy. Needs some supervision, but he’s good.”

“Bring him around this afternoon.”

Tony hesitated.

“Something else on your mind?”

“Yes, sir. I know you’re the foreman and you’re my boss, which is great. But how did you happen to call me for the job?”

“Justin Cushman is calling the shots here. He recommended you, gave me your cell number. You know him?”

“Joel’s uncle? No, sir.” Tony wondered who had given his name and number to Justin Cushman. Must have been Joel or Manda. He remembered telling Manda he was ready to build anything Joel needed for his recovery. She’d probably passed that along. That felt really good. “Never met the man.”

Ralph grunted. “You will, soon enough. It’s an experience.”

“As in . . .?”

“He could get St. Peter to redesign heaven, if he wanted.”

“Are you sure Joel’s up for a visit from me?”

Manda took her eyes off the road for a second and smiled at Gianessa. “Absolutely. He’s been starved for company, and I know you won’t tire him out. You’ll know how to handle it.”

“I can just wave from the doorway and wait for you two in the café.”

“Well, I have an ulterior motive.”

“Which is . . .”

Manda’s laugh was self-conscious. “I want you to help Joel recover, and I think if you can spend some time talking to each other you’ll know what he needs and he’ll have confidence that you’re the right person for the job.”