Don't Say A Word (12 page)

    "Sarah brought you into the restaurant. She had met Lucia at a fabric store, in some workshop on draperies or something. They both loved to sew. Lucia told her about the restaurant, so Sarah brought you over one day to see the lobsters. You were a pretty little girl. I think I fell in love with both of you at the same time," he said with a warm, loving smile. "Lucia suggested that I let Sarah make up some new curtains and tablecloths for the cafe. I agreed. Three months later we were married. I thank God Lucia met Sarah and brought her to me. She was my angel." His voice caught, and he wiped his hand across his eyes. "I'd never met a woman who wanted to give up her whole life for me."

    "What do you mean?" Julia asked, struck by his words. "What did she give up?"

    "Well…" He thought for a moment. "She gave up her friends in Berkeley, and when I told her I wanted to have another child and have her stay home, she readily agreed. I don't know if I can explain it, Julia. Sarah just became an integral part of my life. And selfishly I never questioned her devotion or her lack of friends and family away from me. I was happy that we never had any conflicts about where to spend the holidays." He paused, letting out a small sigh. "I know you want to ask me about your biological father."

    "Not because I don't have a terrific father," she assured him. "And it's really not about him-whoever he is. It's about my mother, and my grandparents. I don't even know their names. I don't know if they're still alive or what they did for a living or if they ever wanted to see me. I feel like I should know that much."

    "Henry and Susan Davis," he said abruptly. "Those are your grandparents' names."

    Her heart skipped a beat. "How do you know that?"

    "Sarah told me. I don't really remember why or what we were discussing at the time."

    "But Mom went by the last name of Gregory before she married you. How did she get from Davis to Gregory?"

    Gino stared back at her, puzzlement in his eyes. "I don't know. I suppose I could be wrong. Maybe your grandparents' last name was Gregory and not Davis. I'm not sure, Julia. The important thing is that Sarah's parents disowned her when she got pregnant. That was the end of their relationship, and Sarah was adamant about not having any contact with them. I didn't feel it was my place to press her for more information, and frankly I didn't care who had come before me. As I said, I liked the fact that I had the two of you all to myself, that you became DeMarcos in every sense of the word. But I guess that wasn't fair to you."

    Julia didn't know what was fair anymore. But she did know that none of her questions had anything to, do with Gino. "You don't have to apologize. I've had | a great life. No complaints." "Just questions," he said.

    "Yes. Do you remember anything about where Mom and I lived in Berkeley? An address maybe? Or the name of one of her friends?"

    "You lived in a little apartment over a garage. Sarah said she'd only lived there for a month or two. I went there once or twice. I think the street was Fremont or Fairmont. Does that help at all?"

    "It might. At least I know the names of my grandparents. That's something. One last question: I found a Russian doll in the storage locker among Mom's things. Did she ever tell you if she'd traveled to Russia?"

    His eyes widened and he laughed. "Russia? Are you 1 kidding? Your mother hated to travel. I'm sure she never left the country."

    "If she had left the country before she met you, she would have had a passport, right? Did you ever see a passport? I didn't find any of Mom's personal papers in the storage locker."

    "I haven't gone through the office things, which are in boxes in my apartment. I don't remember seeing a passport. But your mother paid all the bills and kept track of the paperwork. I left all that to her, so I don't have any idea what's there."

    "Could I take a look sometime?"

    "Sure, whatever you want, Julia. Is that it?"

    He hadn't told her much, but the few details he had shared with her teased at her mind, making her reconsider her plan to stop researching her past.

    "I think we should have some wine, some food, and some good conversation," Gino said when she didn't reply. "Shall we join the others?"

    "Sure."

    As they left the bedroom, they went in opposite directions. Her father headed toward the makeshift bar in the kitchen while Julia joined Michael at the end of the buffet line in the dining room.

    "Everything okay?" Michael asked, putting his arm around her shoulders. "You disappeared for a while."

    "I was talking to Dad."

    Julia felt a spark of guilt at the question. She probably should have been talking to him about his drinking, but she'd been too caught up in her own problems. "We didn't get to that," she muttered.

    "He's still grieving over your mother. I'm sure he'll slow down soon." "I hope so."

    "I have an idea. How about a sail this afternoon?" Michael asked, an inviting smile on his face. "It's a beautiful day."

    "I have to work. You know that. One to three every Sunday," she reminded him.

    Irritation flashed through his eyes. "I wish you'd get rid of that shift. It would be nice to spend more time on the weekends together."

    She'd heard him make that comment before. While she appreciated the fact that he wanted to spend time with her, he didn't seem to understand how important her job was to her. "I'm lucky I can host my own show on the weekends, Michael. I get bigger audience numbers than when I host the ten-to-midnight weekday shows. Besides, I thought you were running a charter today."

    "Not until sunset. You could join me for that. You'll be done with your show by then."

    "It's a possibility," she said tentatively. She didn't mind sailing, but it wasn't her first choice of things to do, especially when Michael was running a charter. She usually felt like the odd man out and spent most of her time wishing she'd stayed home and gotten caught up on her bills, her laundry, and the other details of her life.

    "Julia," Liz interrupted, holding out Julia's cell phone. "I heard it ringing in your purse. He said it was important."

    Julia took the phone from Liz, noting the frown on her sister's face. "Hello," she said, moving away from Michael as she did so.

    "Julia, it's Alex. Something's come up. We need to talk."

    "I told you I was done." She walked into the living room, casting a quick look behind her to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. Fortunately, Liz was talking to Michael, diverting his attention from her.

    "I just got a call from a newspaper reporter," Alex continued. "Apparently my mother told her that I'd found the world's most famous orphan. And she gave her your name."

    "What?" Julia asked in shock. "Are you kidding me? Why would she do that?"

    "Obviously to generate publicity for the exhibit. The reporter just called me. I tried to persuade her that my mother was wrong, but this woman is very persistent. I'm sure she's going to track you down. And I wanted you to be ready."

    "Great. What am I supposed to tell her?"

    "That's up to you."

    "
Dammit
, Alex, how could your mother do this to me?"

    "It wasn't about you. It was about what she wanted. It's always about that. I told you she's manipulative."

    Julia heard the bitter note in his voice, but at the moment she was too wound up to respond to it, too focused on what this meant for her and her family. "I'm not going to talk to a reporter about that photo."

    "You may not have a choice."

    Julia saw Michael waving at her from the dining room. "I can't talk right now. I'll call you later." She ended the call, forced a smile on her face and went back to join him.

    "Who was that?"

    She licked her lips, not wanting to lie to him, but liking the idea of telling him the truth even less. "Just a friend," she said evasively. "It wasn't important."

    "Liz seemed to think it was." His eyes narrowed. "Was it the guy you were talking to Friday night outside the restaurant? The photographer?"

    "Yes," she said.

    A hard glint entered Michael's brown eyes. "He's not a wedding photographer, is he?"

    She had no choice but to answer honestly. "No, he's the son of the man who took the photo that I saw at the museum."

    "Julia." His voice was filled with disappointment. "I can't believe you're still thinking about that."

    "I'm sorry. I was going to stop, Michael. I was planning to tell you that today, but Alex said that a reporter has gotten wind of it and wants to talk to me."

    "A reporter? Are you out of your mind?" he asked in amazement. "You're taking this to the press? You're going to kill your sister and the rest of your family. Do you know that?"

    "It was never my plan to take it to the press, but I have to figure out what to do now that it's already there. This reporter thinks I'm that girl in the picture."

    Michael shook his head, a tense line to his lips. "You tell them you're not that girl and that's the end of the story."

    "Do you think they'll believe me?"

    "Why wouldn't they? It's as crazy an idea as I've ever heard. Do you honestly think you and your mother were living in Russia when you were a baby? Don't you think she would have told you about that? I know you have a big imagination, but even you must admit that this is absurd. You're grasping at straws, Julia, and I know why."

    "Why?" she asked, almost scared to hear his answer.

    "You want a reason to postpone the wedding. That's it, isn't it?"

    "Why did you do it?" Alex asked as he faced his mother late Sunday afternoon. Unable to get her on the phone, he'd come to her house. He'd found her sitting calmly in her living room, sipping a glass of red wine and addressing invitations for a party she was hosting in a few weeks. "Why did you tell the reporter that Julia was the girl in the photograph?"

    "You told me to find an angle, and I did," she said, no apology in her voice.

    "You used an innocent woman to generate publicity for yourself."

    "For the exhibit," she corrected. "For your father's work and for yours. If you'd come with me to the interview, I wouldn't have had to bring up Julia's name." She settled back against the white cushions of her couch. "Now, why don't you tell me where Julia DeMarco came from?"

    "I'm not going to tell you anything. You obviously can't be trusted."

    "Oh, please," she said with a careless wave of her hand. "I didn't do anything wrong. Maybe I jumped the gun a bit, but it's obvious you think Julia is that girl, or you wouldn't have come here looking for the negative to that picture." Alex stared at his mother, amazed at her brash confidence, her belief that she could do no wrong. She was so focused on her own life, her own goals, that she couldn't see anyone else. Nor apparently could she see the potential consequences of her actions.

    "You told me to drop this," he reminded her. "Just yesterday morning we had a discussion about whether or not I should be looking into anything connected with the Moscow trip. You even suggested the possibility that Dad's accident was not an accident." He paused, giving his words a moment to sink in. "So how do you explain why you suddenly decided to publicize a picture taken during that last trip? Did you consider the possibility that Dad's accident and that trip, maybe even that picture, were somehow connected?"

    His mother's expression faltered at his question, and her hand was noticeably shaky as she set down her glass of wine on the coffee table. "I-I didn't think about your father's accident being tied to that photo. Why would I?"

    "Because you suggested it yesterday," he said in angry frustration. "You're the one who put the idea in my head."

    She stared at him for a long moment. "I don't know what I think about your father's accident. And I didn't plan on telling the reporter about Julia. It's just that Christine appeared so bored when you didn't show up. She kept checking her watch and didn't seem to be paying any attention to me. I wasn't sure she'd write even one line about the exhibit. I knew I needed to catch her interest, and Julia's face was fresh in my mind. It just came out."

    "That's the problem, Mother. You never think before you speak."

    "How would you know, Alex? You barely spend any time with me," she snapped. "And you act like I was trying to hurt you. I just wanted to get the most publicity I could get for the exhibit. It's not only for me, Alex. It's for you, too. Don't you want the world to know about your father's work?"

    "You should have gone into politics. You always know how to spin things. But you shouldn't have done this," he said, seeing a flash of guilt in her eyes. "And you know it."

    "I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn. But I'm sure you can fix it. Just set up a meeting with Christine Delaney. Convince her I was wrong and give her something else to write about. She was really interested in you, and she's a single, attractive woman. I'm sure you can charm her into another story." "You don't have any moral boundaries, do you?"

    "I didn't say sleep with her; I said charm her. Honestly, Alex, you make such a big deal out of nothing. You're so self-righteous and judgmental, just like your father. The rest of us aren't good enough for you." She picked up her wine and took another sip. "It's not as if you haven't broken the rules before. When it's what you want, like the perfect photograph, it's a different story. Then you'll do whatever it takes. When I ask you to bend a little, you act like I just told you to kill someone."