The Care and Feeding of Unmarried Men (26 page)

E
ve sat on Diana's low terrace wall, staring out at the desert. She'd been doing that very same thing for hours, losing herself in the vastness that was spread before her. Clouds had moved in to blanket the tops of the mountains, and she let them weigh heavily upon her, too, making her smaller. Less.

So there would be less confusion. Less sadness.

Now she was one of the cactus. Or that hard boulder, there. Or that cold-blooded lizard, a creature without its own heat. No. She was less than the lizard, she was the lizard's tail, something without its own power.

Almost nothing at all.

“You know who she really is? Nobody. She's nobody.”

In the distance, her gaze caught the movement of something big kicking up dust. Heading straight for
her, the big thing wasn't bothering with the road; instead it churned through the sand on enormous tires.

Eve considered retreating to the house and locking herself behind the door, but she didn't have the energy. With luck, he wouldn't even see her. With luck, she was as insignificant and invisible as Vince had said and as much as she felt, and Nash would drive right up the driveway and then drive right back down again, unaware of the ghost that was Eve sitting on the terrace wall.

It had to be Nash, of course. Who else would be driving a truck the size of a moving van?

The huge thing took the steep driveway the way another vehicle might take a three-inch curb. He swung it around as he parked so that when he exited the car he was less than four feet away.

His clear eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Damn, Party Girl,” he drawled. “You look like you fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.”

Apparently she still looked substantial, though, even if she didn't feel it. Upon arriving at Diana's the day before, she'd borrowed some cropped-off sweatpants and a worn T-shirt. She hadn't changed out of them or showered or even washed her face or brushed her hair.

Ghosts didn't need to bother with that kind of thing.

But this ghost still had to get rid of Nash. “Go away.”

“Now why am I not surprised to hear you say that? And I brought you something and everything.”

She turned her face from him. “I don't want anything.”

He stepped back to duck inside the enormous, dusty truck. “Well, this isn't a present you can refuse, darlin'. It's something that already belongs to you.” In his arms was a cardboard box, holes punched in the sides.

He walked it toward her.

Eve scooted farther along the wall.

Nash halted. Sighed. “Look, I already went through a lot to get this for you. I even had to make a call to the doctor to see if my tetanus vaccination was up to date.”

“What are you talking about?”

He set the box on the ground, placed his cowboy-booted foot on top of it, then turned his wrists to expose his inner forearms. Several bloody scratches marred the tanned flesh.

Eve dropped her gaze to the box, which was wiggling on its own now, as if it were alive. “You have that cat in there.”

“Now don't you know how to ruin a surprise,” Nash said. “But it's not ‘that cat,' it's
your
cat.”

“Not anymore.” Adam had befriended the old Eve. The one who had sashayed through her world, chin-high, confident in being a Caruso. Now she didn't know who she was, only whom she didn't belong to anymore. “Take it back.”

Instead of obeying, Nash bent down and opened the flaps of the box. With a yowl, the tom jumped out, looking ready for another brawl. Then it saw Eve. It got that familiar soft expression on its face and leaped onto the wall instead of on Nash's throat. Adam picked his way toward her, mewing in plaintive complaint.

She tried to ignore the creature when he bumped his big head against her shoulder. Despite herself, her
fingers moved to caress the fur between his ears. “You shouldn't have brought him,” she said. “Cats don't like change.”

He shrugged. “He's your cat,” he said again.

“Stop saying that!”

“Well, it's true. You gave that thing your affection and your time, and now he belongs to you. You can't make that go away. I don't get why you'd want to.”

She shook her head. Though the cat climbed into her lap, she directed her attention away from both him and Nash.
I'm that twig of scrub brush tumbling across the dirt. That piece of broken glass.

“What if I told you his real name is Pumpernickel?”

Eve started and looked over at Nash, who seated himself on the wall a few feet away from her. “What are you talking about now?”

He stretched his legs out in front of him. Those long, muscular legs that the old Eve had stolen peeks at whenever she could. “What if I told you that I found out the cat's real name is something like Pumpernickel or…or…Puddin' Head?”

“I'd say you must have fallen out of your truck onto
your
puddin' head.”

“What I'm trying to tell you, Eve darlin', is that you care about that cat, no matter what its name is.”

Oh, I get it.
Her eyes closed. “Just so you know, that's an incredibly simplistic response to a complicated situation.”

“Hey, I'm a simple, Southern country boy.” His drawl flowed through the words, heavier than molasses. “What can you expect?”

She opened one eye. “Exactly where in the South are you from?”

“Deep South, darlin'.” He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “Deep, deep South.”

Something made her press harder. “Exactly where in the deep, deep South?”

“Um…” Then he shrugged. “San Diego. Deep, deep in Southern California.”

She stared at him. “You fraud.”

“Only my accent. And I can't help it. I hang out with a lot of good ol' boys, and it rubs right off them and onto me.”

Shaking her head, she turned back to the view.

“Since I'm comin' clean, I might as well tell you that I'm here to take you back to the wedding.”

Her gaze jerked toward him again. “The wedding.” She'd forgotten about the wedding.

“Téa and Joey have been trying to reach you for more than twenty-four hours. You didn't think you should let them know where you are?”

“There's no phone line out here. And my cell died.” Same with her car. The battery had finally gone kaput. “But anyway, I'm not…I can't go to the wedding, Nash. I just can't.”

“I know you think so. But you gotta, Party Girl. It's a matter of life and death.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Really. I promised Cosimo I'd bring you back. He and his men were ready to go to war with some other mob families, thinking you'd been abducted, but I convinced them to hold off until I checked for you out here.”

Eve's mouth went dry. With her grand—With
Cosimo's
impending retirement, the California Mafia was really on edge. She knew that. There'd been arson in
October, just ahead of his birthday party, so she could see him worrying that something worse might happen before the big Caruso wedding. “You have a cell phone. Call and tell them I'm okay.”

He shrugged. “I already tried that, on the way up the driveway. This is the middle of nowhere, darlin', and apparently that means no cell service either.”

“Oh, God. Nash—”

“I know, I know. But I doubt they'll be satisfied until they see you in the flesh anyway.” He hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Joey gave me your bridesmaid's dress. I have it in the truck.”

Aghast, Eve shrank back. “I can't
be
in the wedding. Not now.”

“Well, you can't leave your sister without one of her attendants, can you? It won't be, uh…even.”

Good ol' Nash was really grasping at straws now. She could tell he didn't know if “even” was important. But it would be important to Téa, Eve thought, her stomach turning to lead. Interior designer Téa, with all her lists and her meticulous overmanagement of every detail, deserved this day to go off as perfectly as planned. Could Eve's final act as a Caruso sister be to screw that up?

She squeezed shut her eyes, feeling that wet sting behind them. What she needed was distance.
I'm that piece of scrub brush tumbling across the dirt…I'm that piece of broken glass.

The mental imagery didn't work. She was broken, all right, but she knew she couldn't stay here and damage Téa's big day. “You win,” she said wearily, getting to her feet. The cat purred in her arms. “Let's go.”

She'd think about facing the Carusos later. For now
she just had to get into that humongous truck. One step at a time.

“Um…” Nash was hesitating again, rubbing his big hand against his chin. “I know there's no phone out here, Party Girl, but what about hot water and a blow-dryer? You, uh, wouldn't want to scare the wedding guests, now, would you?”

It was lucky she was a ghost, Eve decided, because otherwise he might have hurt her flesh-and-blood ego.

Once she saw herself in the bathroom mirror, however, it was hard to blame Nash. She didn't look like Eve Caruso, not with the dark smudges underneath her eyes, her hair snarled and her lips chapped. A hot shower and a hair dryer could only do so much, but she did the best she could with them and the few cosmetics Diana had left behind.

The dress and the shoes still fit, though she didn't look in the mirror once she put them on. Instead, she swathed herself in a sheet from Diana's linen closet. A trek back across the desert could add a layer of dirt to the pearl-colored satin if she wasn't careful. Nash had already reloaded Adam back into his box and into the backseat of the big truck by the time she shuffled out the front door.

Thanks to the height of the truck and the protective sheet, he had to bundle Eve into her place as well.

For a moment he held her against his chest. She lowered her gaze and watched his steady pulse beating against his neck. Two nights ago he'd told her something she hadn't wanted to hear. In situations such as this, the old Eve would have made some flirtatious remark, confident that her sex appeal would deflect the awkwardness of the memory.

This Eve just wanted to cry.

He drove back toward Palm Springs in the manner in which he'd arrived—without regard to roads. Instead, he drove directly across the desert, and she appreciated the virile hum of the big engine. It was like Nash, straightforward and strong, knowing where it wanted to go and then just going there.

She could remember a time when she'd been so certain about things, but it seemed like a long time ago. Before the SEC debacle, before Salvatore's remains had been found. A lifetime ago. Another life ago.

Some other woman's life.

As they neared Palm Springs, it was almost dark, and traffic choked the streets. Johnny and Téa were marrying in a chapel near the center of town, and it seemed as if everyone in the valley was traveling in that direction. Eve wiped her palms on the sheet, almost as nervous about not making it to the wedding on time as she was about making it at all.

And then they were there, with only minutes to spare. The parking lot and the streets were crowded with cars. The guests had to be already seated inside. Three hundred people whom Eve was supposed to walk past, though she didn't know who Eve really was.

Nash pulled up to the loading zone, stopped the truck. Neither one of them moved.

“I have a secret to tell you,” he finally said.

“What?” She was staring at the stained-glass window over the entrance. It glowed with color.
I'm that triangle of green glass. No, that small curve of blue.

“It's something I've never told anyone.”

Eve blinked, then turned her head to look at him. “What?”

“Jemima's mother had an affair while she was married to my father.”

From the corner of her eye, through the open double doors leading into the vestibule, Eve saw movement. It would be the wedding party, she guessed. Joey, the two groomsmen, Téa herself. Johnny would already be waiting for his bride at the front of the church. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I'm pretty sure Jemima's not my father's daughter.”

Eve shook her head.
“What
?
”

“I'm pretty sure Jemima's not my half sister, biologically speaking. A couple of years ago, her mother, Allison, let slip a hint or two.” Nash got out of the truck before she could think of an appropriate response.

She watched him through the dusty windshield. He came around to her side and helped her out. With her feet on the sidewalk, she found she couldn't move. Nash unwound the sheet and tossed it back into the truck.

He cleared his throat.

She couldn't look at him. “I don't think I can do this.” She'd always been a coward, but as a mob boss's daughter she'd most often managed to fake her confidence. Now without that identity behind her, she couldn't even pretend anymore.

Then Nash touched the small of her back, somehow propelling her stiff body forward. With his help, she made it slowly across the sidewalk and up the steps. At the threshold to the church, though, she froze again. Trying to stay out of sight, she peered inside the open doors. The vestibule was lit by pillared candles in all shapes and sizes. It smelled of smoke, warm wax, and promises.

Just as she'd supposed, there were the two groomsmen—Johnny's brother and a friend of his, both in
black tuxedoes. And she saw Joey, too, looking just as wonderful as she had that day of the fitting. Then across the vestibule, another door opened. It framed Téa, breathtaking in her pagan-queen wedding dress. Her expression both nervous and elated, she searched the room with her eyes.

Her gaze found Joey's, who shook her head.

Téa had been searching for Eve.

Nash bent to her ear. “What I told you about Jemima…what I was trying to say…you weren't born their sister, or even their half sister, that's true. But to Téa and Joey and Bianca and Cosimo, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if your name is Eve or Pumpernickel or Puddin' Head. They care, and always will care, for you. They've known about the results of that DNA test for weeks and didn't want to tell you because it didn't matter to them. You're you, no matter what. No matter what, you're their family. Now go join them.”