Primary Colors (3 page)

“I’m sure he will. I hear he likes you.”

Now a big grin. “That’s what Mommy said.” He shrugged. “Cool!”

The doorbell rang and Sal glanced at her. The children had been taught not to answer the door without an adult. After the deaths of her beloved sons-in-law, they were stricter about enforcing the rule than other households. “We’ll go let him in.” She stood, took his
hand and went to the foyer. “You can open it now.”

Sal yanked on the door. For a brief moment, Donuta studied the artist on the stoop. Rafael Castle was about six feet tall, with longer, curly hair. Bending down, he looked Sal in the eye. “Hi, Salvador Dali.”

“Hi, Rafael…Umbrio.”

“Close enough.”

What was that called? An inside joke?

The man stood. He towered over her. “Hello,
Mr. Castle.”

“Please call me Rafe, Mrs. Ludzecky.”

“Then you call me Donuta.”

“Or
Babka
,” Sal suggested. “That’s what I call her.”

Sal and the man headed through a parlor to the larger area beyond it. Rafe stopped at the entryway. “This is so cool, Sal. You got your own space.”

“It was a room for everybody before we moved in here.”

“A living room,” Donuta told him. “When
the children came to live with me, I wanted the boys to have their own place. A while after the bedrooms upstairs were completed, we added a family room on the back of the house, and this one became theirs.”

“That’s right. You live with your cousins. I know them from school. That Ben’s a little rascal.”

“What’s a rascal?”

“Somebody who causes a lot of trouble,” Donuta announced dryly.

“So,” Donuta said, taking the…cow by the horns. “I will stay over there at the desk doing my household accounts. Is that acceptable?”

“Of course. You don’t know me. But you will.” He gave her a smile that reminded her of Stash, her deceased husband, when he was young. “In the meantime, you should supervise us.”

The two of them settled at the table and Donuta went to the computer. Magdalena
had spent weeks teaching her how to use it. Now she enjoyed the email device and the ability to locate information. Three messages from her children awaited her
.

Lukasz:
Morning, Matka. I love you. Have a great day.

Her boy did this daily. Just a short note to keep in touch.

Elizabeita:
Hey, Matka. Don’t forget, I’m coming to dinner next week. Can’t wait to see you.

Then why did
her wild child come home so infrequently?

Sofia:
Hello, Matka. I’ve got a cold. I went to the doctor and he did tests—nothing’s wrong. But I have someone covering classes. I’m fine, but wanted to check in.

Donuta’s heartbeat speeded up. Whenever Sofia got sick, she worried. As a survivor of the cancer, Sofia was fragile. So she wrote back:
I will be over later to see you. Kocham ciebie.

Laughter on the other side of the room distracted Donuta. Sal caught her gaze. “
Babka
, come ’ere.”

Donuta stood and crossed to the pair.

“We’re drawing with charcoal today,” Rafe told her.

“Isn’t this cool? It’s me and Mom.”

“How did you…?”

He pointed to a photo on the side bookshelf
.

“It is lovely.”

“Can I keep it?” Sal asked.

“Of course.”

The small picture
was probably worth money, Donuta thought. She had learned to use the engines, too, and had done a search of this man.

Back at the computer, she saw she had a new email. From Gerald. A little flutter in her chest told her she liked this man. Very much.

Good morning, Donuta. I hope you’re well. I was thinking about last weekend. I’ve
been
thinking about last weekend since you left my home.
We’re closer now, sweetheart. And I’m so happy. Are you happy?

She blushed. Lord in heaven, this man did have nice words.

She and Gerald had become lovers. Donuta, a sixteen-year-old virgin when she’d married, was an innocent. Now she felt like a modern woman. And young, even at sixty-five.

Yes, Gerald,
she wrote back.
I am happy. Because of you
.

Now, time to get back to her financial
responsibilities. Periodically, she glanced over at the two in the corner. Rafe was drawing sometimes, then Salvador. Right now, though, they both had their heads bent in a similar way, with serious expressions on their faces.

“Hi, everybody.”

Donuta turned. Her daughter stood in the doorway.
Her
face was lined and her shoulders stiff. Something was wrong.

“I’m sorry
I’m late.” Nia tried to keep the quiver out of her voice.

Rafe Castle, who was sitting with Sal, stood abruptly and strode to her. He grasped her arms. “Nia, what’s wrong?”

“I…I…” She took in a deep breath. “I was in a car accident.”

“Bo
żesz ty mój.”
Calling for God’s help, her mother hurried over and took Nia in her arms
.

For a moment, she cuddled into
Matka’s
warm, safe bosom.
Then Nia drew back, knowing she had to be strong. “I’m not hurt. No one was.”

“But you’re trembling.” This from Rafe, who’d stepped aside but stayed close.

“Never mind that.” She skirted around both of them and hurried to Sal. “Come here, honey. I want you to see I’m okay.”

Standing beside the table, Sal had gone white and stiff. He stared at her blankly
.

She dropped to her knees.
“Sal, did you hear me?”

He nodded.

“I’m not hurt.”

“Daddy was.”

“What?”

“Daddy was.”

“I don’t understand.”

Rafe was in front of Sal now, kneeling down, too. “I do. Sal, your Daddy was hurt in a car accident, but it was more serious than what happened to your mom today. See, she’s fine. She’s just shaky.” When her son didn’t respond, Rafe said, “Have you ever fallen
off your bike?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you were scared, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s how Mommy feels now.”

“Oh.” Sal said to Nia, “Sorry you’re scared, Mommy.”

She cleared her throat. “A hug right now would help.”

Her son threw himself at her. Over his shoulder, she mouthed
thank you
.

Rafe squeezed her arm and stood
.

After a generous hug and a couple of kisses, Nia rose,
too. “How’s the lesson going?”

He nodded, taking her cue to change the subject. “What do you think, Sal?”

“It went great. You should see what we made, Mommy.”

“I’d love to.”

They went behind the table and Rafe hovered nearby. When she saw the charcoal sketch, she said, “Oh, my. Wow. This is beautiful.”

“It’s you and me.”

“I know, honey. Did you draw it?”

“No, silly.
Rafe did.”

She glanced over at him. “Thank you, Rafe.”

They made small talk, then Rafe said, “I think I should leave now. We had a couple of hours together.”

Sal hugged his waist. “Thanks, Rafe. When you coming back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe your mom can walk me out to my car and we can talk about it.”

She touched Sal’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, honey.”

Matka
joined them.
“Go ahead. Sal, show me what other masterpieces you created.”

In the foyer, Nia opened the door, and Rafe stood back so she could precede him out. As soon as they got on the porch, he stopped and faced her. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Truthfully, I’m a little sore.” She nodded to the driveway. “The car is in worse shape.”

With a finger, he tipped up her chin. “You have some discoloration
on your cheek and neck.”

“I do? I’ll have to try to cover it up so Sal doesn’t see it.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“A guy ran a red light. Luckily, he clipped me in the back, but I spun around.” She shivered. “The police came and took statements. His car needed to be towed, but I could drive home.”

He put his hands on her upper arms again. His touch felt soothing, and she needed
comfort right now. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“It was minor, really. I didn’t call to say I’d be late, because Sal worries about me.” She studied him. Today he wore a dark blue shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, the color accenting his eyes. His hair brushed the collar. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That Sal was connecting what happened to me to Peter’s accident.”

“Because I’m on the outside. I’m sure your mother was worried and you were shaken. That’s why I caught what he was saying, and you two didn’t.”

“I think it’s more than that, but I haven’t figured what.”

His eyes twinkled now. “Let me know when you do.”

“I will.”

He pivoted to gaze at the car. “Uh-oh!”

“Yeah. But it can be fixed.” She added, “Lots of things can’t, so I’m not
going to lose sleep over what can.”

“That’s a wonderful attitude.”

“Hard-won, I’d say.”

“I imagine.”

Turning back to her, he asked, “When can I come again?”

“Would you mind coming on Saturday next time? I’ve got some meetings on Friday that I can’t miss.”

He took out his phone—the cover was red
—
and clicked into it. He must be checking his calendar. “Works for me. I’ll be
free at three. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

She watched him as he walked away to the snazzy BMW parked on the street. She’d thought it was probably his. It fit him. But what she’d seen in him today totally didn’t gel with the famous-artist, man-about-town image. She’d have to think about that.

Lying back on the bench, Rafe raised the barbell, heavy weights on each
end. He normally didn’t work out this late, but after he’d gotten back from the Ludzecky house, he’d been restless. He counted. “One…two…five…thirteen…”

At fifteen he stopped. Rafe knew his limits
—
in most things. Hopping onto the treadmill, he began at a slow pace. And because he didn’t have to concentrate on his actions, his mind drifted back to what had happened today. He pictured lovely
Nia pulling herself together for her son. Then, superimposed over that image was his mother’s.

Rafael, I have another headache. Get me some medicine
.

Rafe, where are you going? You can’t leave me alone like this.

You’re ungrateful. Here I am, suffering, and you…you ask for money.

She’d been a hypochondriac even when his father was around. Then she’d started drinking. It was probably
why the selfish man had bailed when Rafe was four.

His thoughts turned to Sal. He had an affinity toward him already. He hoped to have kids someday, and he’d take one like that child in a New York minute
.

When he finished his workout, sweat dripped from him. He headed to the bedroom and then the shower. After he turned the faucet on, the phone rang.

He debated whether or not to answer.
But it might be Jonas. Picking up his cell from the vanity, he checked the caller ID. And clicked on.

“Hello, cutie.”

“Hi, Ariana.” He pictured dark-as-night hair, the texture of coarse silk. And velvety brown eyes. “How are you tonight?”

“Lonely.”

“Hmm. Want some company?”

“It’s why I called.”

“I just worked out and was about to step into the shower. I can be there in
an hour.”

“See you soon.”

He wasn’t smiling when he clicked off and stepped under the hot spray. He was going to get laid tonight, and he should be glad for it.

But his mind was stuck in that warm, loving household from this afternoon, the kind he’d never had. He couldn’t drag this thoughts away from there and take joy in the evening ahead.

From the foyer, Magdalena heard the sounds of her family in the back of the house. Once again, the Ludzecky home brimmed with chatter and excitement. It hadn’t been so long ago that a black cloud of grief cloaked it
.

“They’re a noisy bunch, aren’t they?” Logan Price said
,
helping Magdalena off with her coat.

Just then, a high-pitched scream rent the
air, followed by, “You did not!”

Magdalena smiled at her business colleague and friend. Logan had the chiseled jaw of a movie star, sky blue eyes and thick dark hair. Magdalena was eternally grateful she was immune to his charm
.

“A lot different from some of the other times you were here.”

“Thank the Lord.” After hanging up her coat and his, he put his hand at her neck in an affectionate
gesture. “You doing okay? You said coming home makes you sad sometimes.”

“Not tonight. Besides, you’re here to keep me company.”

“Mags! Get in here,” someone yelled. Either Paulina or Nia. Most often, she couldn’t tell the difference.

She and Logan headed to the huge kitchen, and family room off it. There, she found
Matka
at the stove and the girls in the family room. “Oh, wow, Elizabeita
came?”

Matka
turned. “
Kochanie
,” she said and crossed to Magdalena. When her mother hugged her, Magdalena felt a warmth for this woman swell inside her. Then
Matka
turned approving eyes on Logan. “Ah,
widok jed
, welcome.”

They hugged. Superimposed over that image came one of Logan in this very room, the week the guys had died, holding
Matka
. Magdalena would never forget how he’d come home
with her when she’d gotten the obscene call at the private-equity firm where they both worked, stayed by her side for days and helped out with kids and food and the minutia of negotiating the days after the tragedy. And one night, he’d come out to the kitchen and found her crying alone, so as not to show her grief to the girls. It was right for her to call him the kind one.

“My favorite woman
in the world,” he said to
Matka
.

“Keep your hands off my girl.” Someone had come through the back door.

Logan laughed. He and Gerald Callahan knew each other in the business world. Magdalena’s world
.