Touch Me and Tango (4 page)

But after ten years of living on her own she’d outgrown the
urge to get back at her parents with wild, unpredictable behavior. Especially
now that her father no longer cared what she did or if she was even alive.

Resigning herself to the fact that anything short of “All
right, let’s go treasure hunting” was wasted breath, Tanya walked to the corner
where the aging dachshund lay curled in his dog bed. “Even you don’t greet me
anymore, Oscar.” She reached down and pet his head. His tail thumped, but he
didn’t get up.

“He’s got arthritis,” Eva said.

“Poor baby.” Tanya hoped this meant her mother was talking
now. But she heard the chair creak, the clunk of her crutches, and turned to
see her hobbling out of the kitchen, her face a mask of indignant brooding.

“What am I going to do, Oscar? Apparently I have this knack
for coming off the wrong way and making people disappear.” Yesterday Parker cut
their conversation short and walked away. Then she comes home to her mother
doing the same. She gave Oscar a doggie treat.

With a sigh, she grabbed a couple eggs from the fridge and
went to the stove. There she saw a pan of perfectly browned chicken sausage
links. She could tell they were the kind made by a local Polish deli. The very
kind that had always been her favorite.

“See that, Oscar? She does love me.”

The sad part was that Tanya completely understood her
mother’s stubborn anger at finding herself in this situation after losing so
much to a man who’d broken her heart. But there just didn’t seem to be any
realistic way out other than selling the house.

She put together a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage and
toast, poured herself a cup of French roast, and slid onto a stool at the far
end of the long copper-topped kitchen counter. She checked messages on her
mobile. Nothing from Mark. He wasn’t the sentimental type. Never wasted a
moment worrying about her, nor expected that sort of thing in return. She’d
always considered that a plus in the relationship. But now that he’d gotten her
thinking about marriage, she had to admit it disappointed her.

After breakfast, Tanya headed for the study, with its dark
wood paneling and oriental rugs. How many times had she tiptoed through this
door with butterflies in her belly, knowing she was in for one of her father’s
lectures? She spent well over an hour checking the computer files and reading
through the letters and bills piled on the antique mahogany desk. By the time
she finished it was clear she needed some expert guidance.

With an address book she’d found on the desk, Tanya settled
into a club chair. “Let’s see, Golunde, Gordon… here it is. Greenberger.” She
picked up the phone that sat on an end table next to the chair and tapped in
the number.

“This is Jo-el.”

She giggled, the casual warmth in his voice relaxing her.
“This is Tan-neee.”

“Tanya?”

“Joel.”

“Tanya Gentilliano?”

“What is this? The name game?”

He laughed. “I can’t believe it. What a surprise.”

She hadn’t seen Joel in ages. He was a financial analyst who
worked out of his East Hampton home in the South Fork. He was also a family
friend who’d been like an uncle to her for as long as she could remember. “Hope
I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all. Only tell me, what exciting international city
are you calling from? Paris? Zurich? Rome?”

“A swinging little spot called North Cove.”

“What are you doing in the States? I thought you were busy
winning tango tournaments somewhere over in the Swiss Alps.”

“Not quite. But I did watch
Stomp The Yard
on the plane while flying over the Swiss Alps.”

“Close enough.” He paused. “How’s Eva?”

She settled her back against the chair’s cool burgundy
leather. “Not so good. That’s why I’m here.”

“An illness?”

Tanya heard the concern in his voice. She’d put money on a
bet that Joel was in love with her mom. “Well, she did have a little accident.
Broke a leg. But that’s not the reason I’m calling. She’s got money problems.”

“Glad it’s nothing serious physically. So how bad off are we
talking on the money? Broke? Busted? Or completely flat out broke and busted.”

“If this is multiple choice, make it C.”

“Oh boy.”

“That’s why I need to speak with you. My mom, as you already
know, is hopeless on these things. I’ve learned to be smarter about finances,
but this situation is way beyond me. All this financial and legal jargon is so
confusing I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Yeah, you do. You begin by calling me. We should meet.”

Tanya sighed in relief. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“I’ll need to gather up what’s in your mother’s files and
look things over. How’s Saturday?”

“We’re doing a house sale this Saturday.”

“Why don’t I come by? The sale will keep you two out of my
hair while I hole up in the office. When it’s over we’ll sit down with coffee
and see what options are in the bag.”

“That would be great, Joel. I don’t know what your fees are
these days, but I have a little savings—”

“No need for that. This’ll be a favor for two of my favorite
ladies.” After a slight pause, he added. “There’s never been any hard feelings
toward your mom. So, she didn’t feel I was the right one for her. The way it is
sometimes.”

“I have my own opinion on that, but I suppose it’s none of
my business. How are the Mets looking this year?”

“Now we’re getting into serious stuff. And you don’t want to
go there, sweetie.”

Tanya laughed. “See you Saturday.”

She signed off, picked up a business card she’d found on the
kitchen bulletin board and set her mind on the next phone call. One that had
her breakfast doing cartwheels in her stomach. She didn’t really want to talk
to Parker right now. Everything about him distracted her.

When she saw him yesterday, she wanted to just drag him off
somewhere and lick him from head to toe. It had always been that way. Anytime
she so much as heard Parker speak, or saw him walk with those big lazy strides,
or caught the way he studied her with half-lidded eyes she found herself wanting
him so badly it hurt.

Not that it had anything to do with actual love. Heck, she
didn’t even know the meaning of that word. And Mark sure didn’t either. Maybe
marrying Mark was the right thing to do. Maybe after a week here she wouldn’t
be so afraid of it.

Was he serious about the million-dollar gift? She could use
it to help her mom. But she’d hate to marry him for that and find out it was
only a tease that he’d never meant for real.

Whew. How shallow are
you, girl
?

Not shallow. Practical. Which was why her fantasies of
hooking up with Parker Richardson were dangerous. She’d only end up hurting him
again because he’d want way more than she could give.

Meanwhile she owed it to Parker to stop him from walking
blindly into her mother’s crazy scheme. He was the kind of guy who’d probably
let Eva rope him into it just because he felt sorry for her.

She picked up the phone. This was one of those purely
unselfish tasks. Not her favorite kind, mind you.

“Richardson’s Gardening and Lawn Care.”

Hearing his voice, she moved her finger over a button, ready
to hang up. But she’d called on her mom’s landline and realized he would
recognize the number. Which he did.

“Mrs. Gentilliano?”

Tanya cleared her throat. “It’s Tanya. Listen, I heard my
mother hired you for a job?”

“And?”

Whoa. Felt like somebody opened a freezer door. She chewed
her lip, wondering how she was going to do this. Her words just came blurting
out. “You don’t need to come over. You’re not going to be doing that project
for her.”

“So you called to dismiss the hired help.” The cool, almost
lethal tone in his voice made it clear she’d just poured salt on an old wound.

“That’s not how I meant— Parker? Parker?”

Too late. He’d ended the call. Why did she have such a
clumsy, impulsive mouth?

Tanya curled deeper into the soft curves of the leather club
chair, a part of her wanting to cry. Maybe this was the price she had to pay
for having been a selfish young girl who’d teased and seduced the gardener’s
son. But at the time she never expected to begin a secret romance that would go
on and on. Or to get so hooked on him that she couldn’t let go.

Even after ten long years.

***

Tanya spent the rest of the morning on an excursion into the
past. Not her own past, but the old house’s basement, rife with dust, shadows
and mildew. She’d managed to get Eva and her plaster-cast leg down the cellar
stairs with the skillful use of a basic ballroom drop lift from behind. No mean
feat.

Eva sat on a fraying lawn chair sorting through a shoebox of
old photographs. Every time Tanya found a potential house sale item, she handed
it to her mother who rewarded her with a few clipped words.

“How about this cloisonné pill box?”

Eva looked it over with a melancholy eye. “This was my
mother’s.”

There was plenty of family stuff to dig through. In fact,
the cellar was one big messy pain in the butt maze of moldy, rotting boxes and
trunks, some of which hadn’t been opened since the days of silent pictures.
Literally. The house had been built by none other than her mother’s Great Uncle
Harry.

Her nose itchy, her palms black with grime, Tanya wiped her
hands on her jeans and gripped the handle of a vintage brown and tan suitcase.
“Geez. Didn’t anybody ever throw anything out?”

Eva surprised her by answering. “My grandmother and her
brother Great Uncle Harry grew up in two rooms on the fourth floor of a New
York City tenement. Everything is precious to someone who has nothing.” Her
eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t understand. You grew up with so much.”

“So did you.”

“Yes, but my mother never let me forget where we came from.”

Afraid she’d resume her silent mode, Tanya quickly prodded
her mom. “What was Great Uncle Harry like? Was he kind? Handsome?”

“He was both. As a child my mother adored her Uncle Harry.
And he was a good dancer, you know. It runs in the family. He and Stella used
to win tango contests.” Eva shuffled through a pile of photographs next to her.
She chose one and held it out to Tanya.

“Oh. This is beautiful. And so romantic.” She stared in envy
at the cracked and water-stained photo of a beaded and plumed flapper swooning
in the arms of her tuxedoed dance partner.

Sure, Tanya had done loads of tangos in ballroom
competitions. Stylized showpieces aimed at gaining points. But the real thing?
The original? Where a man and woman improvise a seduction, each partner’s move
intimately dependent on the other’s?

She only wished. “I remember hearing Stella’s name over the
years, but I never gave any thought about who she was.”

“Young people aren’t interested in family history.”

“Wasn’t there a story about Stella getting disowned by her
blue blood family because she married Uncle Harry?”

Eva nodded. “It’s true. They had one of those ‘great’ loves.
The kind you only read about or see in movies. My grandmother said the first
time they met they did a tango, and by the end of the dance Stella knew he was
the one.”

Tanya sighed. What would it be like to have that kind of
love? She and Mark sure as hell didn’t have it. The closest she ever came to
feeling what it must be like was during that final year with Parker when all
she could think about was how soon she would see him again.

But was that love? Probably not. She was only, what,
nineteen? Twenty? Young, passionate and infatuated with a guy who was different
from everyone else she knew.

Eva interrupted her thoughts. “Do you know the reason Uncle
Harry hid his steamer trunk filled with diamonds and other valuables?”

“Because it was stolen goods.”

Her mother huffed like an angry dragon. “Stolen? My
great-uncle was
not
a thief. He ran a
business importing and selling rum and Irish whiskey. It just happened to be
illegal at the time.”

“Which is why he made so much money.”

“Well, of course. Things that are hard to get always cost
more.”

“I wonder how Uncle Harry would feel knowing he’d have a
drink dedicated to him.” The local bars out on the North Fork served a cocktail
with rum, Irish whiskey, lemonade and sugar called Harry’s Steamer, in memory
of the notorious bootlegger and the steamer trunk full of jewels that he
supposedly hid.

“He’d be flattered, I’m sure.”

Tanya looked down at the young man in the photo. His face
had those same high Russian cheekbones that her mother had passed on to her.
But it was his expression that drew her in. “He’s so in love with her. What
happened to Stella?”

“She was in the car with him that night.”

Tanya knew what “that night” meant. Every local knew the
story of Harry Rubikoff being gunned down in a scene straight from
The Godfather
. “How sad. But I suppose
it might’ve been worse if one of them had to go on living without the other.”

“Yes. It also means what was in the trunk is still there.”

“Or never was.”

Eva dipped her hand into the pocket on her denim shirt and
pulled out a yellowed, folded piece of paper. “Last week I was dusting the
wooden framed mirror that used to hang in the second floor hallway, prepping it
to sell, when the back panel came loose. That’s when I found this little goodie
pasted to the inside.” She handed it to Tanya.

The mysterious document felt like brittle parchment to her
fingertips. She unfolded it and held it up to the light. It was a crude
rendering of what appeared to be an island with fragmented sentences scribbled
across different parts of the drawing in inky blue-black letters. A shoreline
in the foreground was labeled “North Fork.” Tiny arrows pointed to small
landmarks. The writing had that neat, lyrical, yet slightly wet and smudgy
appearance associated with those slower paced days of the early Twentieth
Century.