Truly Madly Yours

Chapter Thirteen

“Uncle Nick, did you see that movie on TV the other night about a girl who was kidnapped as a baby and she never knew it until she was like about twenty or something?”

Nick stared at his computer screen, going over the budget he’d projected on a home on the north shore of the lake. The foundation had been poured before the ground froze, and the roof put on before the snow. The home was close to completion, but the owner had decided on different fixtures throughout, and the finish carpentry was way over budget. Since business was slowing down, Ann Marie and Hilda only worked mornings. He and Sophie were alone in the building.

“Uncle Nick.”

“Hmm, what?” He deleted several figures, then typed in the new cost.

Sophie took a deep drawn-out breath and sighed, “You’re not listening to me.”

He glanced from the screen to his niece, then returned his gaze to his work. “Sure I am, Sophie.”

“What did I say?”

He added a restocking fee and reached for a calculator on the edge of his desk, but when he glanced at his niece again, his hand stilled. Her big brown eyes looked back at him as if he’d stomped her feelings beneath his work boots. “I wasn’t listening.” He pulled his hand back. “Sorry.”

“Can I ask you something?”

He figured she hadn’t dropped by his office on her way home from school to watch him work. “Sure.”

“Okay, what would you do if you liked a girl and she didn’t know you liked her.” She paused and looked somewhere over the top of his head. “And she liked someone else with really great clothes and blond hair and everybody liked her and she was a cheerleader and everything?” She returned her gaze to his. “Would you give up?”

Nick was confused. “Do you like a boy who dresses like a cheerleader?”

“No! Geez, I like a boy who dates a cheerleader. She’s pretty and popular and has the best body in eighth grade, and Kyle doesn’t know I’m alive. I want him to notice me, so what should I do?”

Nick looked across his desk at his niece, who was all shiny braces and had her mother’s Italian eyes that were way too big for her face. She had an enormous red pimple on her forehead that, despite her best efforts, would not remain concealed with the makeup she’d slapped on it. Someday Sophia Allegrezza would turn heads, but not today, thank God. She was too young to worry about boys, anyway. “Don’t do anything. You’re gorgeous, Sophie.”

She rolled her eyes and reached for her backpack sitting on the floor by her chair. “You’re no better help than dad.”

“What did Louie say?”

“That I’m too young to worry about boys.”

“Oh.” He leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “Well, I would never say that,” he lied.

“I know. That’s why I came to talk to you. And it’s not just Kyle. No boys ever notice me.” She dragged her backpack into her lap and slumped in the chair, a lump of misery. “I hate it.”

And he hated to see her so unhappy. He’d helped Louie raise Sophie, and she was the only female he’d ever felt completely free to show affection and love. The two of them could sit and watch a movie together or play Monopoly, and she never pried into his life or hung on to his neck too tight. “What do you want me to do?”

“Tell me what boys like in girls.”

“Eighth grade boys?” He scratched the side of his jaw and paused to think a moment. He didn’t want to lie, yet he didn’t want to spoil her innocent illusions, either.

“I thought since you have a lot of girlfriends, you would know.”

“A lot of girlfriends?” He watched her pull a bottle of green fingernail polish from her backpack. “I don’t have a lot of girlfriends. Who told you something like that?”

“No one had to tell me.” She shrugged. “Gail is a girlfriend.”

He hadn’t seen Gail since a few weeks before Halloween, and that had been a week ago. “She was just a friend,” he said. “And we broke it off last month.” Actually, he’d broken things off with her and she hadn’t been pleased.

“Well, what did you like about her?” she asked as she added a coat of green polish over an existing layer of navy blue.

The few things he’d liked about Gail, he could hardly tell his thirteen-year-old niece. “She had nice hair.”

“That’s it? You would date a girl just because you liked her hair?”

Probably not. “Yep.”

“What’s your favorite hair color?”

Red. Different shades of red all streaked together and tangled up in his fingers. “Brown.”

“What else do you like?”

Pink lips and pink boas. “A good smile.”

Sophie looked up at him and grinned, her mouth filled with metal and mauve rubber bands. “Like this?”

“Yep.”

“What else?”

This time he answered with the truth. “Big brown eyes, and I like a girl who can stand up to me.” And, he realized, he’d developed an appreciation of sarcasm.

She dipped the brush into the polish and went to work on her other hand. “Do you think girls should call boys?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Grandma says girls who call boys are wild. She says you and dad never got into trouble with wild girls because she never let you talk on the phone when they called.”

His mother was the only person he know who had the ability to see only what she chose and nothing else. Growing up, both Nick and Louie had found their fair share of trouble without the telephone. Louie had gone on to get a girl pregnant his last year of college. And when a Basque boy got a good Catholic girl pregnant, the result was an inevitable wedding at St. John’s Cathedral. “Your grandmother remembers only what she wants to remember,” he told Sophie. “If you want to talk to a boy on the phone, I don’t see why you shouldn’t, but you better ask your dad first.” He watched her blow on her wet nails. “Maybe you should talk to Lisa about all this girl stuff. She’s going to be your stepmom in about a week.”

Sophie shook her head. “I’d rather talk to you.”

“I thought you liked Lisa.”

“She’s okay, but I like talking to you better. Besides, she stuck me at the end of the bridesmaid line.”

“Probably because you’re shortest.”

“Maybe.” She studied her polish a moment, then looked up. “Do you want me to paint your nails?”

“No way. The last time you did that, I forgot to take it off and the clerk at the Gas-n-Go gave me a funny look.”

“Pleeaase.”

“Forget it, Sophie.”

She frowned and carefully screwed the cap back on her polish. “Not only am I last in the line now, I have to stand next to you-know-who.”

“Who?”

“Her.” Sophie pointed to the wall. “Over there.”

“Delaney?” When she nodded Nick asked her, “Why should that matter?”

“You know.”

“No. Why don’t you tell me.”

“Grandma said that girl over there lived with your dad, and he was nice to her and mean to you. And he gave her nice clothes and stuff and you had to wear old jeans.”

“I like old jeans.” He reached for his pencil and studied Sophie’s face. Her mouth was pinched at the corners like his mother’s whenever she spoke of Delaney. Henry had certainly given Benita reasons for bitterness, but Nick didn’t like to see Sophie affected by it. “Whatever happened, or didn’t happen, between me and my father, had nothing to do with Delaney.”

“You don’t hate her?”

Hating Delaney had never been his problem. “No, I don’t hate her.”

“Oh.” She stuffed the fingernail polish into her backpack and reached for her coat on the back of her chair. “Will you take me to my orthodontist appointment at the end of the month?”

Nick stood and helped her with her coat. Sophie’s appointment was almost a two-hour drive one way. “Can’t your dad take you?”

“He’ll be on his honeymoon.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll take you then.”

As he walked her to the door she wrapped one arm around his waist. “Are you sure you’re never getting married, Uncle Nick?”

“Yes.”

“Grandma says you just need to find a nice Catholic girl. Then you’ll be happy.”

“I’m already happy.”

“Grandma says you need to fall in love with a Basque woman.”

“Sounds like you’ve been spending way too much time talking about me with Grandma.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re never getting married.”

He reached up and pulled a hunk of her smooth black hair. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause I like having you all to myself.”

Nick stood on the sidewalk in front of his office and watch his niece walk down the street. Sophie was spending too much time with his mother. He figured it was only a matter of time before Benita lured her to the dark side, and Sophie began to nag him about marrying a nice “Basque” woman, too.

He shoved his hands up to his knuckles in the front pockets his jeans. Louie was the marrying kind. Not Nick. Louie’s first marriage hadn’t lasted more than six years, but his brother had liked being married. He’d liked the comfort of living with a woman. Louie had always known he would remarry. He’d always known he would fall in love, but it had taken him close to eight years after his divorce to find the right woman. Nick didn’t doubt that his brother would be happy with Lisa.

The door to Delaney’s salon swung open and an old lady with one of those silver-dome hairdos ambled out. As she passed, she stared at him as if she knew he was up to no good. He laughed beneath his breath and lifted his gaze to the window. Through the glass he watched Delaney sweep the floor, then head toward the back with a dustpan. He watched her straight shoulders and back, and the sway of her hips beneath a sweater skirt that clung to her round behind. A heavy ache settled in his groin, and he thought about perfect white breasts and pink feathers. He thought of her big brown eyes, her long lashes, and the lust pulling at her heavy lids, her mouth wet and swollen from his kiss.

I want you, she’d said, or rather he’d coerced her into saying it like he was some lovesick loser begging her to want him. Never in his life had he demanded a woman tell him she wanted him. He didn’t have to. It had never mattered if those words were whispered from a woman’s soft pink lips. Apparently it did now.

No maybes about it anymore. Henry knew what he was doing when he drew up that will. He’d reminded Nick of just what it felt like to want something he could never have, to ache for something held just beyond his grasp. Something he might touch but never really possess.

A few light snowflakes drifted in front of Nick’s face, and he walked back into his office and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. Some men made the mistake of confusing lust for love. Not Nick. He didn’t love Delaney. What he felt for her was worse than love. It was gut-twisting lust, and it was turning him inside out. He was walking around and behaving like a complete asshole with a monster-sized hard-on for a woman who hated him most of the time.

Delaney pushed the tomatoes to one side of her plate, then speared a piece of endive and chicken.

“How’s business?” Gwen asked, immediately arousing Delaney’s suspicion. Gwen never asked about the salon.

“Pretty good.” She looked across the table and stuck the lettuce into her mouth. Her mother was up to something. She never should have agreed to meet for lunch in a restaurant where she couldn’t yell without causing a scene. “Why?” she asked.

“Helen always does the hair for the Christmas fashion show, but this year I spoke with the other members of the board, and I’ve convinced them to let you do the hair.” Gwen poked around at her fettuccini, then set her fork aside. “I thought you could use the publicity.”

More than likely it was a way for her mother to rope her into serving on some sort of dumb committee. “Just the hair? That’s it?”

Gwen reached for her hot tea with lemon. “Well, I thought you could be in the show, too.”

There it was. The real reason. Styling hair for the show was a bone. What Gwen really wanted was to parade around in matching mother-daughter lamй like they were twins. There were two rules of the fashion show, the dress or costumes had to be made by hand and had to reflect the season. “You and me together?”

“Of course I’d be there.”

“Dressed alike?”

“Similar.”

Not a chance. Delaney clearly remembered the year she’d been forced to dress as Rudolph. She might not have minded if she hadn’t been sixteen. “I couldn’t possibly be in the show and do the hair.”

“Helen does.”

“I’m not Helen.” She reached for a breadstick. “I’ll do the hair, but I want the name of my salon printed in the program and announced at both the start and finish of the show.”

Gwen looked a little less than pleased. “I’ll have someone on the board get hold of you.”

“Great. When is the show?”

“During the Winter Festival. It’s always the third Saturday, a few days before the ice sculpture contest.” She set her cup back on the saucer and sighed. “Remember when Henry was mayor and we used walk beside him and help with the judging?”

Of course she remembered. Each December businesses in Truly made huge snow sculptures in Larkspur Park, drawing tourists for hundreds of miles. Delaney remembered her frozen cheeks and nose, and her big fluffy coat and furry hat as she walked beside Henry and her mother. She remembered the crisp smell of ice and winter and the feel of hot chocolate warming her hands.

“Remember the year he let you choose the winner?”

She’d probably been twelve, and she’d chosen Quality Meats and Poultry’s fifteen-foot Lamb Chop. Delaney took another stab at her salad. She’d forgotten about Lamb Chop.

“I need to talk to you about Christmas,” Gwen said.

Delaney assumed she would spend it at her mother’s, complete with a real tree, shiny presents, eggnog, chestnuts roasting on an open fire. The whole bit.

“Max and I are leaving on a Caribbean cruise on the twentieth, the day after the Winter Festival starts.”

“What?” She carefully set her fork back on her plate. “I didn’t know the two of you were that serious.”

“Max and I are getting close, and he suggested a warm vacation to find out just how strongly we feel for each other.”

Gwen had been a widow for all of six months and already had a serious boyfriend. Delaney couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a serious date. Suddenly she felt real pathetic, like an old spinster cat lady.

“I thought you and I could celebrate Christmas when I get back.”

“Okay.” She hadn’t realized how much she might have enjoyed a Christmas at home until she no longer had the option. Well, spending the holidays alone was nothing she hadn’t done before.

“And now that it has begun to snow, you should park your little car in my garage and drive Henry’s Cadillac.”

Delaney waited to hear the conditions, like she’d have to spend the night on weekends, attend a council meeting of some sort, or wear practical pumps. When Gwen didn’t elaborate, and reached for her fork instead, Delaney asked, “What’s the catch?”

“Why are you so suspicious all the time? I just want you to be safe this winter.”

“Oh.” It had been years since she’d driven in the snow, and she found it wasn’t like riding a bike. She’d forgotten how. She’d much rather slide through stop signs in Henry’s big silver car rather than her Miata. “Thanks, I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

After lunch, she took the rest of the day off and drove to Lisa’s to drop off some books on braids and pick up her bridesmaid dress. The red stretch velvet dress was the color of wine in one light but changed to a deep burgundy in another. It was beautiful, and if it hadn’t been for Delaney’s hair, it would have looked great on her, but so many different shades of red all on one person made her look like a Picasso. She ran a hand over her stomach, smoothing the cool material beneath her palm.

“I didn’t think about your hair,” Lisa admitted as she stood back and viewed Delaney in her bedroom mirror. “Maybe you could wear one of those big straw hats.”

“Not a chance.” She tilted her head to the side and studied her reflection. “I could always go back to my natural color.”

“What is your natural color?”

“I’m not really sure anymore. When I retouch my roots, it’s sort of a warm blond.”

“Can you change it back without having your hair fall out?”

Delaney put her hands on her hips and turned to face her friend. “What is wrong with you people in this town? Of course I can remove the tint without my hair falling out. I know what I’m doing. I’ve been doing this for years.” As she spoke, the volume of her voice rose. “I’m not Helen. I don’t give bad cuts!”

“Geez, I just asked.”

“Yeah, you and everyone else.” She unzipped the back of the dress and stepped out of it.

“Who else?”

The image of Nick sitting on her couch popped into her head. His hot mouth on hers. His fingers pressed into her thigh. She wished she could hate him for making her want him, for making her tell him that she wanted him, then leaving her alone to dream about him all night. But she couldn’t hate him, and she was so confused about what happened that she didn’t want to talk about it with anyone until she figured it out. Not even with Lisa. She laid the dress on the plaid quilt covering Lisa’s bed then stepped into a pair of jeans. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

“What? Is your mother still bugging you about being a stylist?”

“No, in fact she asked me to style hair for the Christmas fashion show.” Delaney looked up from the button on her pants. “She thought she could trick me and get me to do that mother-daughter thing I had to do when I was growing up.”

Lisa laughed. “Remember that gold lamй dress with the big sash and that bow on the back?”

“How could I forget.” She pulled an angora sweater over her head then sat on the edge of the bed and shoved her feet into her Doc Marten’s. “And then my mother is going on a Caribbean cruise over Christmas with Max Harrison.”

“Your mother and Max?” Lisa sat next to Delaney. “That’s weird. I can’t picture your mother with anyone but Henry.”

“I think Max is good for her.” She tied one boot, then worked on the other. “Anyway, this is the first time I’ve been home for ten Christmases, and she leaves. That’s pretty typical, when I think about it.”

“You can come to my house. I’ll be living with Louie and Sophie, and we’ll have Christmas there.”

Delaney stood and reached for her dress. “I can just see myself breaking bread with the Allegrezzas.”

“You’ll be ‘breaking bread’ with us at my wedding dinner.”

Apprehension settled in Delaney’s stomach as she slowly put the dress on the hanger. “It’s a buffet, right?”

“No. It’s a sit-down dinner at the Lake Shore Hotel.”

“I thought the dinner was after the rehearsal.”

“No, that’s the buffet.”

“How many people will be at this dinner?”

“Seventy-five.”

Delaney relaxed. With so many guests, it would be quite easy to avoid certain members of Louie’s family. “Well, don’t seat me by Benita. She’ll probably stab me with her butter knife.” And Nick? He was so unpredictable, she couldn’t guess what he might do.

“She’s not that bad.”

“Not to you.” Delaney gathered her coat and headed outside.

“Think about Christmas,” Lisa called after her.

“Okay,” she promised just before she drove away, but there wasn’t even a remote chance she would sit across the table from Nick. What a nightmare. She’d have to spend the entire time trying not to get drawn in by him, looking anywhere but his eyes and mouth and hands. You better not be around here on June fourth, otherwise I’m going to take what you‘ve owed me for ten years.

She didn’t owe him anything. He’d used her to get back at Henry, and they both knew it. Exactly when was that? When you begged me to touch you all over? She hadn’t begged him. More like asked. And she’d been young and naive.

Delaney pulled her little car next to Nick’s Jeep and bolted up the stairs. She wasn’t prepared to see him. Each time she thought of his mouth on her breast and his hand between her thighs, her cheeks got hot. She would have had sex with him right there on her couch, no doubt about it. All he had to do was look at her and he sucked her in like a Hoover. All he had to do was touch her and she wanted to suck him like a Hoover. He had the ability to make her forget who he was. Who she was, and their past together. I told you not to worry and that I’d take care of you, but you looked at me like I was some kind of rapist and left with Henry. She didn’t really believe him now any more than she had the other night. He had to be lying. But why would he lie? It wasn’t like he’d been trying to sweet-talk her out of her clothes. She’d pretty much abandoned all modesty by that point.

She laid her dress on the couch and reached for Nick’s txapel sitting on the coffee table where she’d left it. Her fingertips traced the leather band and smooth wool. It didn’t matter now. Nothing had changed. That night at Angel Beach was old history and best left in the past. Even if it weren’t for Henry’s will, there was no future for the two of them. He was a womanizer and she was leaving just as soon as possible.

With the beret in one hand Delaney walked back outside to the parking lot. Nick’s Jeep was still there, and she opened the driver’s side door. The beige leather interior was still warm as if he’d arrived just before she’d returned to her apartment. The Jeep key was in the ignition, and his Basque cross hung from the rearview mirror. A big box of tools, an extension cord, and three jars of wood putty were tossed in the back. He’d obviously been living in Truly too long, but she supposed if she were a thief, she’d think twice about stealing from an Allegrezza. She set his beret on the leather seat, then turned and hurried back up to her apartment. She didn’t want him to have any reason to walk up her stairs. Obviously, she had no willpower where he was concerned, and it was just best to avoid him as much as possible.

Delaney sat on her couch and tried to tell herself she wasn’t listening for sounds from below. She wasn’t listening for the rattle of keys or the crunch of gravel beneath heavy boots. She wasn’t listening, but she heard his office door open and close, his keys and the scuff of boots. She heard nothing but silence when he discovered his txapel and she imagined him pausing to look up the stairs at her apartment. The silence drew as she listened for his footsteps. Finally, the Jeep’s engine rumbled to life and he rolled out of the parking lot below.

Delaney slowly let out a breath and closed her eyes. Now all she had to do was get through Lisa’s wedding. With seventy-five guests, she could easily ignore Nick. How hard could it be?