The Beekeeper's Ball: Bella Vista Chronicles Book 2 (13 page)

“A kid needs a family,” Jamie said, and the pain in her voice was hard to hear. “A mom and dad, a stable home.”

“Families are made in lots of ways,” Isabel pointed out. “I was raised by my grandparents. My sister Tess is getting an instant family with Dominic. And she was raised by a single mom.”

“I know, and I have nothing but respect for single moms, but I don’t want that for this baby.”

“There are plenty of resources and help out there,” Isabel said. “Listen, I’ve never been in your position before, but I promise you one thing—life gets better when you let people in.”

“Not if you let in the wrong people.”

She had a point.

“And by the way,” Jamie said, “I don’t exactly see you taking your own advice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like you don’t know. That guy—the writer guy—he’s totally into you and you act as if you don’t even care.”

Yikes, was it that obvious? “Jamie, we’re talking about you. Would you be willing to meet with someone who’s an expert in this area? I can be your friend, but I can’t advise you about something this big.”

Panic flared in Jamie’s face. “I, um...I’ll think about it. Hey, listen, I was going to finish up here and then head into town to do some errands....”

Isabel sensed the girl pulling back. “Of course. I’m being pushy, aren’t I?”

Jamie narrowed her eyes and pulled her mouth into a tight bud. “You’re being kinder than anyone’s ever been to me,” she said curtly, and slid the rack back into the hive.

Chapter Twelve

A loud yell in the night awakened Isabel. She hadn’t been asleep, anyway; she’d been staring into the darkness, thinking about Jamie. She had been in the girl’s place before, if only briefly, and she recalled the surreal wonder and dread that had taken her over on discovering she was pregnant. Although it had come as a shock, although she hadn’t been ready, she’d been awash with emotion.

Reacting to the noise, Charlie scrambled to his feet and gave a wary
woof.
Isabel lay still and listened, but didn’t hear anything more. Maybe Grandfather was up late, watching TV. Still, sleep eluded her. She could only imagine how thoughts of the baby must consume Jamie. Isabel could too easily put herself in that place—young, pregnant, broke and frightened. And alone, so very alone. She never saw Jamie talking with anyone on her phone or going to visit friends. Isabel had not been homeless; nor had she lacked for family or friends. But she shared a key issue with Jamie. She’d been with a man who had turned on her.

And now Calvin Sharpe was back, more successful than ever, planning his next destination restaurant right here in Archangel. Isabel hated herself for not filing a complaint against him when she’d had the chance. The statute of limitations had run out, and it was too late. Yet hearing about Jamie’s experience made Isabel wish she’d found the fire to fight back. Men who hurt women should not be allowed to get away with it.

The yelling started again, and this time she was sure it wasn’t her imagination or a TV. Charlie trotted down the hall and Isabel followed. The noise was coming from Mac’s room.

“Anything, you motherfuckers, we had a deal. We had a
deal.
” Mac sounded furious, his voice angry enough to cause her to flinch.

Was he on the phone with someone? In the middle of the night?

“Hey,” she said, rapping on the door. “Hey, Mac, is everything okay?”

The door was ajar and Charlie surged into the room. It was completely dark inside. Mac wasn’t on the phone, but on the bed, slamming his fist down repeatedly.

“We had a deal,” he said again.

Isabel flipped on the light. “What’s going on?”

He swung toward her, his eyes staring. It was eerie, the way he stared right through her. It took her only a second to realize he was in the middle of a nightmare.

“Mac,” she said. Then more sharply,
“Mac.”

“No,” he said, still with that blank look. “No, don’t....”

“Mac, wake up.” She crossed the room and touched his arm.

He yanked his arm sharply away. The sudden movement should have caused her to panic, but for some reason, she didn’t. Instead, she felt an odd tenderness toward him. He seemed lost, vulnerable.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said. “I’ve heard you shouldn’t wake someone from a nightmare, but how about you wake up on your own?”

Charlie whined and scratched the floor. Mac glared wildly around the room. He said something in a language she didn’t understand. Then he blinked and lay back on the bed, a sigh escaping him like air from a tire. “Who the hell turned on the light?” he grumbled.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh...shit. Sorry.”

She couldn’t help but notice he slept in the raw. It was hard to keep herself from staring. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” He propped himself on one elbow and rubbed his stubbly cheeks. “Yep, I’m fine.” He appeared to take his time pulling the sheet over himself. “That’s twice you’ve seen me naked,” he said, “and we haven’t even had our first date.”

“What makes you think we’re ever going to have a date?” she asked.

“You were checking me out. You like me. I can tell.” He reached out and scratched the dog’s ears. “Right, old boy?”

She carefully lowered herself to the end of the bed, self-conscious about the old Giants jersey she wore as a nightshirt. “So you have nightmares?”

“Yeah, sorry about the noise. Did I wake your granddad?”

“Doubtful. He takes his hearing aids out at night. Is there anything I can do?”

He gave her a tired grin. “Crawl in bed with me.”

She glared at him, then got up and tossed him a terrycloth robe she found hanging on the back of the bathroom door. “Meet me in the kitchen. I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“You don’t need to make me a sandwich.”

“But I’m going to.” She left the room before he could protest further. In the kitchen, she layered grilled pancetta, tomato and lettuce on toasted thick slabs of sourdough. She added some chopped cornichons, Dijon mustard and fresh snipped tarragon to the mayo, just to show off. Around Bella Vista, her PLTs were legendary.

Mac wasn’t wearing the robe when he came downstairs. He’d thrown on a pair of lived-in cutoffs, faded in all the right places, and a rumpled but clean T-shirt with a logo from a kiteboarding resort in Australia.

She cut the sandwich into quarters and set it on a pottery plate, along with a side of grapes and parmesan chips, and a beer in a frosty mug.

He regarded the small feast on the table. “I hope you don’t mind if I moan in ecstasy while I eat this.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said, helping herself to a quarter of the sandwich. “Cook’s tax,” she explained.

“Fair enough. Thanks, Isabel.”

She didn’t know why it felt so pleasant, sitting here with him, or why she’d been so keen to fix him a midnight snack. He’d looked scared and lost in the grip of the nightmare. She supposed everyone did, but seeing him that way was strangely touching.

He sat at the old pine kitchen table with his leg sticking out to the side. Even in the dim light, she could see the crescent-shaped scar on his knee.

“You’re not using your cane.”

He shrugged. “Hate that thing. All the walking around I’ve been doing with your granddad is good exercise for the knee. I think it’s helping.”

“Are you supposed to be doing physical therapy?”

“Yep.” He took a gulp of beer. “Massage and whirlpool, too. I did it right after surgery but didn’t keep it up. Who has time for that?”

“If you want to heal properly, you’ll make time.” On impulse, she went to the pantry and found a jar of coconut oil. Then she oiled her hands and took hold of his knee. “Grandfather had a knee replacement years ago. I’m convinced he walks like a champ now because he did all the recommended therapy.”

“Hey—”

“Relax. This won’t hurt a bit. I did it for Grandfather all through his recovery.” She used the connective tissue massage techniques she’d learned for Magnus, rotating her thumbs along the length of the scar. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d touched a man intimately. And she couldn’t recall it
ever
feeling like this. “The guest suite on the main floor has a whirlpool tub. You should use it.”

“You really don’t have to do this,” said Mac.

“True. I could just let you hobble around Bella Vista the whole time you’re here.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

She kept her head down, thumbs circling the ridged scar. “Why is it so hard for you to let someone take care of you?”

“I’ve never needed that.”

“Have you ever
wanted
that?”

He stared down at her massaging hands and took another swig of beer. “I might be open to the possibility.”

* * *

Making Mac a sandwich in the middle of the night had distracted Isabel from her troubling thoughts about Calvin Sharpe. But they came crashing back the next day when Tess’s bridesmaids and city friends came to Bella Vista for the bachelorette party and bridal shower. One of the bridesmaids raved about the fabulous meal she’d had at CalSharpe’s in Napa.

Just the mention of him set Isabel’s teeth on edge. Her grandfather claimed he didn’t want to leave this world with regrets still on the table. Well, neither did she. And she didn’t want to wait until she was eighty to unburden herself.

She refused to let herself be dragged down by her own painful history and her failure to speak out against Calvin Sharpe. Everyone had a past, she reminded herself. Everyone had pain. But not everyone had to stay hidden behind it.

She joined Tess’s friends on the patio. They were getting together to head over to Dominic’s vineyards and estate winery. His sister, Gina, would be hosting the bridal shower at the winery, and the women were armed with gift bags and boxes festooned with brightly colored tissue paper and ribbon.

The girlfriends from Tess’s former life in the art world of San Francisco embraced the charms of Bella Vista. The women were chatting and fawning over Charlie, who shamelessly basked in the attention. The cats were more tentative, but Suzanne and Kelly had a way with them, even with Lilac, the shy one. Lilac, as usual, stayed busy keeping Chips away from the fountain.

“Okay, I take back everything I said about Tess moving away from the city,” said Lydia. “It’s so beautiful here, it makes my eyes hurt.”

“In a good way, I hope,” said Neelie.

“Tess was telling us about the cooking school,” Lydia said. “And I have just one question— Where do I sign up?”

Isabel grinned. “A week after the wedding, our website is going live.”

“Where is the bride-of-the-moment, anyway?” asked Lydia.

“Finishing up her dance lesson. We weren’t allowed to watch,” said Oksana.

“I’ll go get her,” said Isabel.

Tess and Dominic were learning a special wedding tango to perform as their first dance at the reception. Isabel headed out to the timber-and-stone building that had been converted into the ballroom and banquet hall for events. It looked beautiful even before the florist did her magic. Tess’s former job with an international auction house had come into play as they styled the space. She had managed to hunt down unique treasures to make the place special. Vintage chandeliers and coaching lanterns with crystal chimneys, Irish lace and antique furniture added a touch of elegance, juxtaposed against the old stone floor and exposed beams.

Look what we created,
thought Isabel, feeling a wave of pride and happiness. The light, airy space would soon be filled with friends and family on a joyous occasion, and that was only the beginning.

For the dancing practice, the tables and chairs had been moved to the periphery of the room. The final strains of
“Por Una Cabeza”
drifted from the stereo as they executed their final move, a glide, followed by a breathless pause and then a classic pose, with Tess draped over her bridegroom’s strong arm. The tall, dark bridegroom towered protectively over his bride, willowy and pale in his embrace. It made a beautiful picture even before the two of them were dressed in their wedding finery.

Standing unseen in the doorway, Isabel felt the burn of an unexpected lump in her throat. She was truly happy for her sister. In Dominic’s arms, Tess had been transformed from a tense, even angry woman into a lovely bride whose heart was blossoming like a summer rose. Yet for Isabel it was bittersweet, because Tess’s newfound happiness held up a mirror, forcing Isabel to take a good, hard look at her own loneliness.

The strains of the tango music faded, and a soft, dry clapping of hands ensued. “Bravo, you two,” said the dance teacher in her lilting accent. “Good job. You are going to be spectacular.”

Isabel joined in the clapping as she walked into the room. “I didn’t peek,” she said, “but I trust your teacher.” She looked at the instructor. “When Tess told me you had a career as a teacher, I didn’t realize it was ballroom dancing.”

As the next track started to play on the stereo, Annelise Winther turned down the volume. “And I never dreamed I would have the pleasure of teaching the tango to my granddaughter and her bridegroom,” she said. “The ballroom dancing was a sideline for me,” she added. “During the day, I taught art to children in San Francisco.”

Isabel went over and gave her a hug. Annelise was still sturdy despite her years. “I’m glad you’re back for a visit,” Isabel said, though she still felt a hint of awkwardness around Annelise. Both women were still adjusting to the idea of their family connection. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Indeed I did,” Annelise said, beaming. “You’ve transformed Bella Vista into a place of dreams, Isabel. The refurbished rooms are absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you. It’s a labor of love.”

“Yes, I can tell. I’m excited for you. It’s wonderful to picture all the events you’ll host here, all the memories that will be made.”

Dominic leaned down and kissed Annelise’s cheek. “Thanks for sorting out my two left feet. I’d better go. I heard a rumor that a half dozen gorgeous ladies are coming to the winery for lunch.”

“And bringing presents,” Tess said. “Do you
know
how much I love presents? I made a rule that I didn’t want anything practical.”

“I’ll brace myself,” he said.

After Dominic had left, Annelise looked pensive, then went and got something out of her tapestry bag. “I wanted to give this to you without a crowd around, because it’s very personal,” she said, holding out a simple, long white case. “It will be the ‘something old’ you wear on your wedding day.”

Tess’s face turned pale as she took the box from her. “You tried to give this to me once before, and I couldn’t take it.”

“I’m trying again.” Annelise gave her a soft smile. “Now you have a good reason to accept it.”

“For heaven’s sake, Tess, what is it?” Isabel crowded in close to see.

Tess opened the box and reverently took out a lovely antique necklace with a pink stone pendant. “It’s a lavaliere that belonged to Annelise’s mother in Denmark,” she said. “Our great grandmother.”

“It’s beautiful.” Isabel turned to Annelise. “What a lovely gesture.”

“Tess recovered it only last year, and she brought it to me. In fact, this necklace is the reason we’ve all been reunited. It’s funny, isn’t it, how one small turn of events can set us on a new path,” Annelise said. “If I hadn’t seen Tess on that History Channel episode about stolen Nazi treasures, we would not be together now. This was my mother’s favorite, a gift my father brought from his travels in Russia during Romanov times. I tried to give her the lavaliere once, but she wouldn’t take it.”

“She will now,” Isabel stated. She turned to Tess. “You will, and no arguing. It looks so bride-ish. Or bridelike. Whatever.”