Simple Riches (24 page)

Elise Pentani wasn’t interested in him and he wasn’t interested in her. Michael swore under his breath, picked up the saw, pulled the cord. It ripped to life and he took the first cut, the same cut he’d made thousands of times before.

Even if for some crazy, ridiculous minute, he thought about wanting to be with her, it would never work between them. He made a second cut, angled the saw.
Never.
Just because she got along with his kids and they were always pestering him to see her, it didn’t mean they’d make it as a couple.
Cut, cut, angle.
So, okay, he was attracted to her. So what?
So what?
She was repulsed by him, his language, his actions… everything. He’d seen it on her face, in her dark eyes. She’d never love him. She loved Nick. The tree hit the ground in one thundering whoosh, slicing a path between cherry and walnut.

Michael eyed the tree with the distracted disinterest of one who’s performed the task so many times he’s already five steps into the next process. He checked his watch. Ten minutes left before the first crew showed up and he still had one more tree to take down. The second oak was some fifty feet away, its path blocked by the branches of the one he’d just taken down. He revved his saw again, started cutting a trail.

If she hates your guts so much then why was she so upset when she found Cynthia Collichetti half naked at your house? …she told me all about it…several times…
Damn that woman! What he did was none of her business… none at all. So why did it bother him so much that he’d hurt her?

When the saw kicked against a knot and the blade ripped into his shirt, Michael jerked back, cut the motor, and stared at the bright red color seeping through the torn material on his shirt.
Shit!
He’d sliced himself.
Damn carelessness, that’s what it had been.
He grabbed a handkerchief out of his back pocket, eased his shirt up over his forearm.
Damn!
The flesh was torn in a jagged line, ripped open, oozing blood. He managed to tie the handkerchief above the wound, then pressed his fingers against the area.
Shit, of all the stupid-ass things to do.
How many times had he told his men,
Never cut in the woods alone, things happen when you least expect them to.
And then the most basic rule of all;
Keep your mind on what you’re doing. I don’t want you thinking about anything but the tree in front of you, not the woman you screwed last night or the one you’re gonna screw tonight. Understand?

He felt dizzy, lightheaded. Michael eased himself onto the fallen oak. His shirt was soaked in blood, his fingers wet and sticky. He closed his eyes and hoped the crew would be on time.

***

Elise hurried out of the elevator, rushed down the hall to the visitor’s waiting room. Nick was sitting in a tan vinyl chair reading the paper. “Nick? Where is he? What happened? Can I see him?”

Nick looked up, set the paper aside. “Michael’s fine. He came out of surgery a little while ago. Mom’s with him right now.”

“Oh, God.” She sank into a chair beside him. “If the crew hadn’t come along when they did… if they hadn’t found him… he would’ve been out there all alone… he could have…” She pressed her fingertips against her temples. “Oh, God.”

“Elise.” Nick took her hand. “He’s going to be okay. The doctor said he tore up his arm, but with therapy and time, eventually, he should regain full use.”

“How much blood did he lose?”

“Enough. They gave him two units in surgery.”

She shook her head, fought back tears. All these weeks and she could think of nothing but cursing Michael Androvich for the way he’d hurt her, been cruel, thoughtless, rude. The thought of that woman with him tortured her every night, deprived her of sleep and common sense. And then there were his taunts, pounding in her head, over and over,
You come here again, Snow White, and I’m gonna think you’re looking for something…and I’m gonna give it to you.
Why did she care? Why?

The answer flowed through her, hard, steady, true. Somewhere underneath all of that tough, outward irascibility, that crude front, was a gentleness, a softness in hiding, too timid and unsure to emerge. She’d glimpsed it—at Marie Lendergin’s wedding when he’d looked into her eyes and almost kissed her. And the first time, when she’d come to his uncle’s birthday party and found out Nick had already left with Alex. Michael had saved her from humiliating herself with tears and disappointment. He’d told her to forget Nick, forget falling in love with him. How had he known when she’d kept it such a well-guarded secret from everyone else? How had he figured it out?

And then there was the electricity that flowed between them whenever they were in the same room. It was palpable, igniting them, a force pulling opposites together, overpowering with sheer magnetism. He had to feel it,
he had to.

“Elise, stop crying. He’s going to be okay.”

She swiped at her cheeks, sniffed. “I have to see him, Nick. I have to see him.”

“Okay. As soon as Mom comes out, I’ll take you in. Okay?”

She managed to nod, clutched his hand tight, and prayed to the blessed Mother.
Please let him be all right, Most Holy Mother… please let me not be too late…

Did Michael still think she was in love with Nick, or rather, did he still think she
thought
she was in love with Nick? He didn’t, did he? Would it make a difference if he knew she had been merely infatuated with his older brother, admiring him for his deeds and his person, but love,
real
love? No, not real love. That emotion was reserved for someone else.

For him. Michael John Androvich and she had to tell him,
now
, because she’d only just realized it herself. She would be good for him, she knew it, and if he let himself open up, he would be good for her, too.

She didn’t hear Stella come out until she was standing in front of her. “Elise. I’m so glad you came.”

Elise opened her eyes, not trying to disguise the anguish she felt. “You were right, Stella… about me… and Michael… about all of it. You were right.”

The older woman leaned over, gave her a hug. “I know dear, I know. Now why don’t you go and tell my son so he knows, too?”

“Yes.” Elise stood up, half dazed, suddenly afraid to see him, afraid not to. “I’ll go and see him. Now.” She turned, headed down the hall, past the double doors that led to his room.

Michael was in room 214. She slipped into the room, eased the door closed behind her. He was sleeping, his large frame filling up the bed, looking out of place and almost funny in the standard hospital blue-and-white gown. There was an I.V. in his right arm and his left was bandaged and propped up on a pillow. His curly brown hair was matted down, his jaw covered in dark stubble. His chest rose and fell in equal rhythm.

He looked wonderful. Elise stood there, watching his chest move up and down, assessing the quality of his breathing. He was alive… alive…

“You my private duty nurse?”

Her head snapped up. “Michael.” She could barely speak.

“Yeah, what a screw up, huh?” His voice was groggy, slurred.

“No, it was an accident.” She moved to his side, touched his hand. “Accidents happen. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Are you, Snow White?”

“Of course, I am.”

“Why? So you wouldn’t have to come to my funeral and pretend you were going to miss me?” He tried to smile, but it ended in a grimace.

“Michael, stop. You shouldn’t even be talking, you should be resting right now.”

“Elise? Why are you glad I’m all right? And don’t play any of that ‘nursey’ stuff with me.”

She swallowed. He’d called her Elise. “Because…” she forced the words out, “because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
I love you, you big, ridiculous idiot.

“That’s hard to believe. I haven’t been exactly nice to you.”

She’d been all prepared to bare her soul, tell him she loved him even if he didn’t feel the same way about her. But now, standing next to him, feeling his eyes on her, she couldn’t do it. “Michael, this isn’t the time. Can’t we discuss this later?”

“No, damn it, we cannot discuss this later.” He winced, sucked in a breath. “Because I did something really stupid today and I still can’t figure out why. You know what I did, Elise? You know why I had the accident?”

His voice was getting louder; he was agitated, maybe from the pain medication… probably because she was in the room. “Michael—”

“I’ll tell you why.” He grasped her fingers. “Because I was thinking about you.
You
, Elise, like I’ve been doing for the past two months, and it’s driving me crazy. You’re driving me crazy. So will you put me out of my misery and just answer the damn question?”

Laughter bubbled up inside of her, spilled over, leaving her giddy. “Yes, you big oaf, I’ll answer the question.” She leaned over, planted a soft kiss on his lips and said, “I cared because, fool that I am, I love you, Michael Androvich, with my whole heart.”

The manufacturers of central air-conditioning units did not make their livelihood in the hills of Restalline. No one with the exception of perhaps five families and the hospital had central air. The rest of the town used window units if they were fortunate, ceiling fans if they had a post-1980 home, or just plain box fans if they were normal folk. City Hall had four window units and several box fans, but in mid July with the night temperature hovering at 85 degrees and the room packed with two-hundred-plus bodies spilling out into the street, air circulation was minimal if not stagnant.

Walter Chamberlain wiped his fine linen handkerchief over his brow, stuffed it back into his pocket. He looked out at the crowd, a rather common lot; men in plaid shirts with sunburned faces and untrimmed hair, women looking wrinkled and unkempt in polyester-cotton blends, sans makeup, children, too, tanned and sneakered. Even a few wheelchairs, accommodating overweight woman with sparse gray hair, wearing pastel housedresses. The town had indeed come out to hear about the proposal, or proposition, depending on how one chose to view the issue.

One thing was certain in Walter’s mind. They would sell, all of them, given the right incentive, and he knew what that would be.
Money.
It always was—the only variable was the number. Would it take a little extra cash thrown their way or perhaps a fair amount? No matter, eventually they would sell; Walter would have his deal, his resort would become a reality.

He checked his watch, 6:45p.m. Alex should be here soon. Eric was set up in the corner, dressed in white and gray striped poplin, looking cool and unruffled as he prepared documents for those parties interested in signing tonight. Walter almost smiled. That’s what he admired most about Eric, that self-possessed air of one who is always in control, who never permits the opposition to see a hint of uncertainty cross his perfect features.

So unlike Nick Androvich, who’d shown several sides of himself yesterday; anger, disbelief, pain, betrayal. He and Alex didn’t belong together, anyone could see that. Eric, he was the one for his niece, and when they got back home, Walter planned to have a serious discussion with Alex, set her straight on her behavior, make certain she understood that being a Chamberlain carried various duties and responsibilities that could not be ignored.

He supposed he’d forgive her for her outburst in Virginia and again yesterday. But he wasn’t going to promote her to president of the company, not with the way she’d all but given up this project. No, he’d put Eric in charge of developing the Restalline resort, Alex could report to him. Maybe that would teach her about loyalty. She was becoming more like her father and his gypsy Russian wife every day and it worried him. Perhaps he should pull her from this project altogether, give her something else to focus on, get her away from Nick Androvich and this town, these people who were making her question everything he’d taught her.

Alex arrived by the side door wearing a simple pink shift, sandals, and no pearls.
Where were her pearls?
She always wore them—they’d cost him a small fortune at Cartier’s when she graduated from Wharton. Yes, Walter decided, she’d been in this hillbilly town too long. He was ordering her back to Virginia in the morning.

“Hello, my dear,” he said. “Interesting choice of clothing you’ve chosen for a business meeting.” His gaze ran the length of her, not trying to hide his distaste.
No hosiery, either.

“Uncle Walter.” She nodded at him.

“We should be able to conclude our business here this evening. At the most it might take a day or two for Eric to draw up the papers, but I want you back in Virginia tomorrow.”

She looked at him but did not respond.

“I’ll speak first, then you can apologize for not divulging the true nature of your business earlier, but tell everyone we wanted to be certain this was the location we wanted before we got everyone’s hopes up that we’d buy them out.” He leaned forward, lowered his voice. “Put a positive spin on it, Alex, you know how. Let them think we’re doing them a favor by offering to cash them out of their homes, which we are, if you ask me.”

There was a flurry of activity among the crowd. Walter glanced up to see a short, squat man working his way up the aisle, shaking hands and smiling as he went.
The mayor
, Walter thought.
Mr. B.J. Huffington. Looks like an ineffectual bug that needs to be squashed.
A second wave of commotion rolled over the gathering as those crowded around the double doors moved and Nick Androvich entered and took a place along the back wall.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the little bug of a man said as he rapped a gavel against the heavy oak desk. “It’s time to begin our meeting. Let me introduce Mr. Walter Chamberlain, CEO of WEC Management Company. Mr. Chamberlain is from Arlington, Virginia.” He turned to Walter. “Mr. Chamberlain.” Mr. Huffington clapped, followed by a weak response from the crowd.

“Thank you, Mr. Huffington,” Walter said, turning to the crowd. “As you all know, we’ve asked you here tonight to discuss a very critical issue that could affect the future of your lives as well as your children’s and your children’s children. Tonight, you will make a decision that could afford you heretofore unimagined opportunities.” He paused, gazed out at the group of people, careful to avoid contact with Nick Androvich. “I’m talking about selling your property to WEC Management and moving away, getting a fresh start. I know for many of you this may be a scary venture, you’ve lived here all of your life, maybe you’ve never left this town. But I tell you today, that opportunity awaits you beyond the limits of Restalline.
Let us give you that opportunity, let us help you.
” He worked his lips into a smile.

“Many of you know this young woman, standing to my left.” He pointed at Alex. “What you may not know or may have just learned is that she’s my niece, Alexandra Chamberlain, vice president of WEC Management, future President. Alex came here to your town because she believed it could be the next location for one of the largest, grandest, summer-winter luxury resorts in the country. But she needed to research it, see the area firsthand, study it, then make her recommendation. Her intent was never to lie or deliberately withhold information as to the true nature of her visit, but we deemed it essential not to disclose anything unless a decision was made to go ahead with the project. Please understand, we kept quiet for your own good as well as the good of the project. We could not risk individuals approaching her with the intent to sell prior to our decision to purchase.” He smiled again, held out his hands in open embrace. “But now, now that we have concluded Restalline would be a perfect location, we are most eager to begin negotiations with each and every one of you.”

A man with a baby in his arms stood up. “Is it true that Norman Kraziak has already agreed to sell both of his companies to you?”

“We’ve been negotiating with Mr. Kraziak and yes, he has agreed to sell.”

“What about Androvich Lumber?” This from a middle-aged woman in a plaid housedress. “Are you planning to buy them up, too?”

“That is open for negotiation, of course.”

“They won’t sell.” All eyes turned to Alex. Her eyes were on the back of the room, near Nick Androvich. “They won’t sell,” she repeated in a louder voice, “and you shouldn’t either.”

“Alex, what is the meaning of this?” Walter clenched his jaw, forced himself to remain calm.

“You’ve had your say, Uncle Walter, now let me have mine.” She cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders. “You should all know that what my uncle says about my coming here is true. I did come to Restalline to investigate a location for a luxury resort.” She moved toward the crowd. “And the intent was that if we chose this town, we’d flatten it and build a beautiful resort in its place.” She paused. “Have any of you ever seen one of our resorts? They’re beautiful, truly superb. You could spend seven days there and never run out of entertainment or food… or activities. We cater to the wealthy and the wealthy have the money to pay and the power to spend.” Her voice dipped. “But for all of its manufactured beauty, nothing compares to the beauty of this town, as it stands, today, right now. I’m not talking about the trees or the winding roads or Sapphire Lake, though they are truly impressive. I’m talking about the people who make up this town… the caring, the friendship, the openness that greeted me, and in some cases, even the love that pulled me into its embrace. I have lived my whole life raised in the lap of luxury and yet when I came to this town, I saw how truly devoid of wealth I was, how lacking.”

“The beauty of this town is found in the beauty of each one of you—a kind word, a gesture to a stranger looking for a place to stay, homemade chicken soup sent to a sick friend, the outpouring of food and prayers when a neighbor dies, the pulling together, the love of a mother for all of her children, not just those who please her.” Her voice cracked, wobbled. “And forgiveness for a person who’s hurt others. This is true wealth, this fabric of life woven with both joy and sorrow that breathes through each of us. Simple riches, measured with heart and commitment, not bank accounts or property values. Don’t give up the real wealth, don’t do it. Please.”

Walter couldn’t speak at first, couldn’t find the right phrases to discount Alex’s words. Did she really feel she was lacking? Hadn’t he given her everything,
everything? Hadn’t he?
When he looked up she was gone.

***

They say that goodbyes are always harder on those left behind than on those leaving, that the pain of watching another venture off to a new experience or back to an old one, leaves a void, a longing that only increases with time and distance. Alex didn’t think that was so in this case. When she said good-bye to Edna Lubovich for the last time, the older woman clung to her, tears and smudges of mascara streaming down her face. There was pain there, Alex saw it, felt it, compared it to her own that had transformed into a state of dry-eyed numbness over the last twenty-four hours.

It was time to leave—there was nothing more to stay for, no one holding her here. Of course, she could infringe upon the goodwill and hospitality of Stella Androvich and Gracie, and even Edna, but what would be the point? It would all have to end sooner or later. There was no reason to hold out any longer, hoping Nick would reconsider, change his mind and let her back into his life. Some things could not be forgiven, she understood that now, had learned it at great cost. There was nothing left to do for the town, now it was their decision, hold or sell, it was out of her hands.

She was heading back to Arlington, the city where she’d lived for some twenty-five plus years. Odd, but she’d always thought of it as home until she arrived in Restalline and discovered the true meaning of home. What she’d witnessed these past few months was a place where memories were created, good and bad, love, feelings, tradition, even losses were shared. Restalline could have been her home… could have given her all of those things… if only. She wouldn’t stay in Arlington, not for long, just enough days to pack up, close up, and move out. Maybe she’d travel west, maybe to another small town…

As she pulled onto the long driveway of the Androvich homestead, Alex thought of the first time she’d seen this place. It had called to her even then, reaching out and pulling her into its bosom, welcoming her. She slowed the car, saw Justin run out, Jet tagging after him, barking.

“Alex,” Justin said as she climbed out of the car, “do you have to go? Can’t you stay? Please?” His expression was grave, his eyebrows pulled together, mouth unsmiling.

“I… I… can’t, Justin.” What could she say?
I lied to your father; I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me?

“Why? Dad says the same thing. But why?” His blue eyes filled with tears. “Why can’t you make up? I thought… I thought you cared about us”—his voice cracked—“about me.”

She pulled him to her, stroked his soft hair. “I do care, very much.”

“Then stay.” He wrapped his arms around her middle, held tight.

Pain shot through her, clutched her heart and squeezed.

“Will I see you again?” he mumbled into her shirt.

She could lie, tell him they’d meet again one day or keep in touch, but that wasn’t true. Nick wouldn’t want her corresponding with his son, and he certainly wouldn’t permit her to visit him. That would be too awkward, too painful. It was time to tell the truth. “I don’t think so.” His small body jerked toward her, stiffened. He pulled away, swiped at his face.

“Wait, I have something I want to give you.” She tried to smile but the attempt fell flat, lifeless between them. “Just wait.” Alex reached into her car, pulled out the blue-and-green mirror her father had given her so many years ago.
The true jewel is in the mirror
, her father had said.
Look into it, Alexandra, look into it and see the jewel.
I
t had taken years to understand what he meant, and even more years to actually find it, but she had.
Finally.
Finally, she had found the jewel—she’d found herself. Now, maybe she could pass it on to Justin and one day he, too, would make the same claim. “My father and mother gave this mirror to me,” she said, holding it out so he could see the way the colored glass shone in the sun. “Right before they died.” The reds and blues glinted. “And my father told me to look into it if I felt lost or confused, and keep looking into it until I found the jewel inside. ‘The true jewel is in the mirror.’ That’s what he told me.” She handed it to Justin who turned it right, left, over.