Ask Mariah (17 page)

"I don't know about that," Jeremy replied. "And frankly, I'm from St. Louis. All I want to do is sell this house and take whatever I can get for it and go home." He handed Michael the keys. "Here you go. I'll be back on Monday. I'm hoping to put the house on the market next Tuesday. In fact, if you know of anyone else who might be interested, you can have them call Conrad Davenport, my real estate broker. Here's his card. I promised Mrs. Sandbury an early look, but when I get back I'll be eager to find a buyer."

"Mr. Gladstone," Joanna said, "would it be all right if we looked through some of the papers inside? Just to see if there's anything of historical value?"

"Rummage to your heart's content, Ms. Wingate. I'd be happy to turn over anything and everything to the historical society. In fact, it would make cleaning out the house a lot easier."

Joanna moved next to Michael as Jeremy Gladstone got into his car and drove away. "I can't believe that man wants to sell this house. Can you?"

"It needs a lot of work."

She frowned at him.

"What did I say?" he asked.

"You don't think this house should be torn down, do you?"

"I haven't looked closely enough to determine that," he said, deliberately baiting her.

"Oh, come on. It's an architect's dream."

"It may be unsafe to live in."

"So you can make it safe with the right remodeling design."

"You never throw anything away, do you?" Michael asked as he walked up the steps to the front door. "You're probably one of those people who has the first dollar she ever made and every certificate she won in school."

"And what if I do? Keeping things that are important to you isn't a crime. Someday future generations will be fascinated by the way we lived. But how will they know how we lived if we don't preserve things, if we send everything to the garbage dump or burn it until nothing is left but ashes?" She stopped abruptly, an odd expression on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, surprised at her change of mood.

"My mother burned something last night, something she didn't want me to see. I found the ashes."

"What are you talking about?" he asked in confusion.

"When I showed my mother the photo of Angela, she was in my father's den, going through his things. He was the kind of man who kept everything, too. I asked if I could help, and I reached for an envelope on the desk. She practically slapped my hand away. Later, when I went into the den, the envelope was gone, and there were ashes in the wastebasket."

He listened with growing disquiet, once again reminded that her identity could put him in a difficult position. It wasn't just her resemblance to Angela. It was the suggestion of a blood tie, a relationship that had been kept secret for thirty years, that bothered him.

"I should just go home and confront my mother," Joanna said. "But I'm scared. I'm afraid she'll lie, and I'm afraid she'll tell me the truth. Maybe I don't want to know what she burned. Maybe it's better if I don't."

"That doesn't sound like a historian to me."

"I'm also a woman and a daughter, and God knows what else."

Michael didn't think past the pain in her eyes, the fear in her voice, the trembling of her lips. He pulled her into his arms and pressed her head against his chest.

"I don't want to erase my past," she muttered.

"That won't happen."

She lifted her gaze to his.  "What if everything I know about myself is a lie?"

"Then it's time you found out the truth."

"It will change everything."

"It might," he agreed. "But not knowing will be worse." At least he thought it would be.

* * *

Tony had barely set foot in De Luca's when he saw Kathleen Shannon, the pretty, sharp-tongued Irish woman he couldn't seem to forget. She was serving dinner to a party of four businessman, but the men appeared to be more focused on the undone buttons of her blouse than their arriving meals.

He scowled, not sure why he felt so damn irritated. His bad mood got worse when he saw Helen and Joey sitting in one of the dark booths against the wall. Helen was laughing at something Joey said. Joey Scopazzi, Tony thought with disgust. The guy had never been able to tell a joke. If he didn't forget the punch line, he usually screwed it up. In fact, Joey Scopazzi had been one of the biggest screw-ups at Our Lady of Angels Elementary School. And now Joey Scopazzi, of all people, was marrying Helen. Tony would never understand women, not in a million years.

He turned his attention back to Kathleen.

When she saw him she quickly turned her head toward the kitchen, then back again, as if she were looking for someone else. She set down the plates and walked over to him. For some reason his stomach clenched and he felt expectant. For what, he had no idea.

Without a word Kathleen took his hand and led him across the room.

"Where are we going?" he muttered.

She ignored him.

Wherever they were going had to be better than this room, where Joey and Helen were acting like people in love. He waved to Lily and Rose, who were having dinner with Sophia and Vincent and a couple of the cousins. Sophia's eyes narrowed when she saw him with Kathleen. Fortunately Vincent didn't notice him at all.

Kathleen left the main dining room and went into the hall that led toward the telephones, the rest rooms, and the two private dining rooms that De Luca's offered for special parties.

He liked the feel of her hand in his. He liked the scent of her perfume. She smelled like Ireland. Her reddish gold hair had been swept up off her face and knotted with a gold band at the top of her head, revealing the slender curve of her neck, the fineness of her bones, the tiny earlobes, the long, dangly earrings. He'd always been a sucker for long, sexy earrings.

In fact, there wasn't much about Kathleen Shannon that he didn't like, except maybe her personality. But that didn't matter. If she wanted to take him into the back room and fool around, who was he to say no? Helen certainly wouldn't care.

Kathleen stopped in front of the door leading into the larger of the two private dining rooms. Tony knew the rooms were empty, because they rarely used them during the week, and if there had been a party, the doors would have been open and extra waiters on duty.

He put his hands on her shoulders and smiled at her, "How long until you have to pick up your next table?"

"Five minutes," she said with a wicked grin. "Is that enough time for you? Or is it too long?"

"I guess you'll just have to find out." He lowered his head to kiss her, but she slipped away with a laugh.

"In your dreams," Kathleen said, opening the door. "He's all yours."

She pushed Tony into the room. Great, he'd been expecting secret sex in a back room, and all he got was Frank and Linda. As Kathleen left he could swear he heard her laughing. One of these days he would turn the tables on her.

"Oh, good, you're here," Linda said. "I asked Kathleen to keep an eye out for you."

The door closed behind him. "What's up?"

"We need to talk to you about the party, but quickly, because Vincent and Sophia will be done with dinner soon and we don't want them to see us here together."

"You're always here together."

"Not hiding in the back room," Linda said logically.

"That's true." He stopped, suddenly struck by something. "Linda, are you wearing the same dress as my mother? I could have sworn I just saw her in the dining room ..."

"No, this one is navy. Hers is black," Linda said, smoothing down the short-sleeved, Empire-waisted cotton dress. "Do you like it?"

He'd liked it on his mother. It made Linda look as old and matronly as Sophia. He didn't understand why she insisted on molding herself after a woman so many years her senior.

"Tony?" Linda looked at him somewhat anxiously.

"It's -- it's ..," He shrugged.

"You don't like it."

"It's fine, but you have a good figure, Linda. You ought to show it off."

Linda blushed. "You think so?"

"Yeah. Don't you think Linda ought to wear something sleek and sexy, Frank?"

His brother didn't respond, his attention focused solely on the adding machine in front of him. He punched the keys with a ruthless, determined speed that would absolutely crunch the numbers to the point where he wanted them.

"Frank bought me this dress," Linda said after a moment. "He thinks Sophia dresses with class and I should, too. Anyway, we're planning to hold a private dinner in here for the family on Saturday night beginning at seven. At nine o'clock we'll spill into the main dining room for a big party with all of their friends. Marlena is going to take fake reservations for anything after seven-thirty just to make sure we can clear the dining room of strangers. And we've booked this room in the name of another party so Vincent won't question the additional waiters."

"How are you going to prevent Vincent from wondering why all his friends are sneaking into the back room?"

"Aunt Elena and Uncle Charles are taking Sophia and Vincent out to dinner somewhere else. Frank is going to call them just before they leave and say there's a big problem at the restaurant and ask them to stop by on their way."

"Not that they'll believe I can't deal with any problem that comes up," Frank grumbled. "I don't like this idea at all. It makes me look like a stupid kid who can't handle his job."

"Oh, stop thinking about your ego. It's a party," Linda snapped.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, although he was pleased to see Linda stand up for herself. "Sounds like you've got everything covered."

"Almost everything," Frank replied. "This party will cost money. We can't ask Papa to absorb the cost through the restaurant. So, little brother, time to ante up." Frank smiled for the first time since Tony had come home. "Unless you're short of cash --  again." He laughed.

Linda frowned at her husband. "Frank, you promised to be nice to Tony."

Promised to be nice. That would be the day, Tony thought. He and Frank hadn't agreed on anything in their entire lives. The four-year age difference between them had always given Frank far too much power, and he'd used it. But Frank didn't put himself in situations where he couldn't control the outcome.

"Why don't you have the party somewhere else?" he asked. "Someplace they don't see every day."

"I thought about that, too," Linda said with a sigh in Frank's direction.

Frank shook his head, and Tony realized with pleasure that his brother had lost more of his hair. In fact, he was looking pretty damn middle-aged. For some reason that made Tony feel better. Maybe because Frank didn't seem to have everything anymore.

"This is where Papa would want the party," Frank said simply. "Here with his friends and his family. He doesn't like to eat anywhere else. He only agreed to try a new place on their anniversary because Elena insisted on it. You know how he hates change." Frank twirled a pencil between his fingers. "Or maybe you don't, since you're never here."

"Sophia likes to try other restaurants," Linda pointed out. "It seems a shame that Vincent always gets his way."

Frank scowled at her. "We've been through this before. The party is in three days. You want to change everything now?"

"No, of course not." Linda sat back in her chair with a defeated look.

"Then why bring it up?"

"Because Tony made a good point."

"Tony? He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Tony didn't have to defend himself, because Linda did it for him.

"You know, you're not the only one who knows how to give a party," she said.

"I give all our parties."

"Only because you won't let me."

"I let you -- remember Janine's third birthday party when the clown came drunk and popped all the kids' balloons?"

"That was out of my control," she snapped.

Tony stared at them in amazement. Linda and Frank had been together forever. They'd started dating in high school, had gone together all through college, and married in their early twenties. They had four kids, for God's sake. He'd always assumed they were happy. De Luca marriages lasted a lifetime. Sophia and Vincent at forty years were just the next in a long line of couples to make it to that milestone.

He wondered if Frank and Linda were going to make it until next Christmas.

Linda stood up. "Fine. If you don't want my opinion, then I'll leave. You and Tony can make all the decisions."

"Hey, wait a second, this is your party," Tony said. There was no way he was going to get stuck with taking care of this surprise party. He had other things to do, like convince Helen to sail away with him next week.

"This is a De Luca family party, as Frank pointed out," Linda said. "You two are the blood De Lucas. I'm just an in-law, isn't that right, Frank?"

Frank tossed his pencil down on the table. "You want to go home, go home. You can get rid of that fool baby-sitter and save us ten dollars."