The Secret of Everything (22 page)

When he finished the letter, he folded it carefully, put it in a pretty envelope, and took it to the post office, where he mailed it before he could chicken out. On the way back down the street, he had to blink away tears, and that made him one damned old fool.

Tessa left the dog at a veterinarian’s office, where he would be groomed and checked for fleas, diseases, and, just to be sure, a microchip. The vet would also let the humane society know a dog had been found. It was all just a formality, but she was happy enough to go through all the steps.

While Felix was being groomed, Tessa sampled the breakfast
at a high-end café hung with lacy curtains and offering choices like smoked salmon and caviar served on toast or with cream cheese and fresh bagels; imported English blood sausages and Ayrshire bacon with thyme-infused potato custard. It was very good food. Her boss would love it.

When she picked up Felix, he looked like a different dog. The groomer had tied a bandana around his neck, and his long fur was as shiny, silky, and elegant as a show dog’s. It all made him look beloved.

“Look at you!” Tessa said. His tail swished happily as she approached, and he waited in shivering anticipation for her hug.

Tessa buried her nose in his soft, sweet-smelling neck. “Mmmmm.”

“He’s a terrific dog,” the groomer said. “Smart as a ten-year-old.”

“I found him. He’s been following me around since I came to town a few days ago; he was obviously abandoned. Starving. I decided to take responsibility for him.”

“There are a lot of strays around here. People abandon them and they live on the streets. Breaks my heart.”

“How old do you think he is?”

“Six months or so. He’s probably going to grow quite a bit more, since he hasn’t had enough food, obviously.”

“Border collie?”

“Yeah, but mixed with something else. Maybe husky or shepherd, something like that. My guess is, he’ll probably end up about that size. Bigger than the usual border collie.”

Felix looked at Tessa with calm eyes, and again she had the sense she’d found an ancient soul. “He’s a wise old man in a way,” she said, and kissed his nose. “Come on.”

They sold her a collar and leash, along with a bag of good food. Tessa led him back to the hotel, paid the extra fees, and
took him upstairs with her. Opening the French doors to the balcony, she let him explore while she shed the clothes she’d worn for a little too long and took a shower.

Only then did she let the night flood back in. Vince in all his animal power, the bathroom filled with steam, making their skin slippery. In the mirror, she saw the marks and little bruises from lovemaking, and it made her want to sit down and weep.

Too much. He was just too much, all that hungry need and his motherless children and the vast hole at the center of their lives, with no one to put away the clothes and cook a nutritious breakfast every morning before school. She thought of her father, making oatmeal, putting oranges in a bowl for after-school snacks, braiding her hair at night so it wouldn’t tangle while she slept.

How had he become such a good homemaker? She sure had never learned the knack.

No, she was not the right woman for that empty place in Vince Grasso’s life. Briskly, she combed out her hair, put on clean clothes, and pulled out the laptop so she could make notes for the interview with Vita at 100 Breakfasts this afternoon. After that, she typed up her notes on everything else and sent them off to her boss. Then she curled up on the bed with Felix for a little nap in the soft noontime air.

When Vince woke up and realized that Tessa wasn’t just in another room, that she’d taken the dog and left him asleep without a word or a note, he couldn’t believe it. He sat on the front porch in his jeans and no shirt, stung and angry, thinking about her, about the taste of her and the laughing they had done and—

“Get over it,” he said aloud. She was just passing through. What had he expected?

He spent the morning trying to get the house together. Last spring, he’d had a girl from the high school come in once a week to vacuum and dust and put things in order a little, but she had graduated and moved to California for college. He hadn’t found anyone to replace her, but he supposed he ought to get on it.

He washed four loads of clothes, cleaned up the kitchen and reloaded the dishwasher, scrubbed the bathrooms, and stacked folded clothes into piles on the dining-room table, where he’d be forced to move them if the family wanted to eat. When the girls got home, he would make them take their own clothes and toys and books up to their rooms. Natalie could vacuum the hallway upstairs, Jade could dust, and even Hannah could do something. She liked to sweep. He should get her a little broom that would fit her. As he straightened up the dining room, he wondered if he could make a center for homework and school things on the built-in buffet; there were drawers and doors, enough for everybody. He opened the top drawer. It held odds and ends of all kinds—old bills and a photo album and some cassette tapes that no longer had a machine to play them, a knee brace, and a pair of racing gloves. He closed the drawer again, defeated. Maybe he could buy some baskets or something.

Could he just throw it all away, maybe? He opened the drawer. If it had been in there all this time, it probably wasn’t anything he needed. The papers for the ranch, for taxes, for all of that, were in his office upstairs. This was crap. From the kitchen, he fetched a big black trash bag and started throwing things away. It was liberating.

He had to start making the girls do more chores. They were
supposed to make their beds, and he did make them set the table and clear it and put dishes into the dishwasher every mealtime. The chaos was overwhelming to
him
—how could three little girls be expected to feel safe and secure in such a world?

A wave of anger at Carrie washed over him. What the hell had she been thinking, to check out like that? To just leave them?

As long as he lived, he’d never understand it. How did a person desert her children? How did she bear it, knowing she would never see them win a prize or wear a prom dress or graduate from college?

No, he would never understand, not even when the girls were cranky when his mother brought them in, hot from the long car ride, sick of having to be on their best behavior. He sent them outside to play in the back while his mother brought the packages in. “Socks and panties for each one,” she said, and pulled out a piece of paper to help him keep it straight. “Jade’s are pink and white, Hannah’s are green and yellow, and Natalie had to have red and black.”

In spite of the dark knot of despair in his throat, Vince laughed at that. “She’s got her own drummer, that girl.”

“I bought them each a few pairs of pants and some shirts they can mix and match. Although”—she pulled out one bag—“I didn’t want to buy this one for Natalie, but she absolutely insisted.”

It was a peasant-style blouse, white with embroidery on it, and some red corduroy pants. “I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t you want her to buy this?”

“Makes her look pretty chubby.”

Flickers of heat licked the back of his skull. “Ma, you’ve gotta stop it with her weight.”

“Vince, she’s a plump child who is going to grow up and be a fat woman if you don’t do something right now.”

“She isn’t plump! She’s got a bit of a tummy. She’s eight years old, for God’s sake. I’m not putting her on a diet.”

“You don’t know,” his mother said, narrowing her eyes, “what it’s like.”

Judy was a big sturdy woman without much softness. Hers was the handsome, hard-chiseled face of a Western woman: strong cheekbones, wide mouth, hooded eyes. She had big hands and feet and plenty of rear end.

“I get it,” he said, putting his hands on her arms. “You want her to be pretty. I appreciate that.” He looked out the front window to see where the girls were. Natalie had climbed to the top of the tree house, her blond hair wild around her face, her arms raised in autocratic direction of her sisters. She was spunky and opinionated and brilliantly smart. She reminded him of his mother in many ways, and maybe she’d grow up to look a lot like her. “I don’t know if she’ll ever be pretty, Ma. But that doesn’t mean she can’t be
happy
.”

“Just make her eat a little bit less,” Judy said.

He shook his head. “No diets. We’ll go for long bike rides or something, but don’t you dare start making her feel guilty about food. She’s got a gift.”

“She’s got—”

Vince held up a hand. “Stop. I’m not listening to any more. She’s my daughter. I get to make the rules.”

She clamped her mouth together. “Fine.”

Tessa met with Vita just after lunch. She was still humming with the pleasure of learning to make bread, something so
earth-mother-ish that she almost felt she should be embarrassed, but it had been a lot of fun. She had even dreamed of the process, the smell of yeast, the yield of the dough beneath the heel of her palm.

“Hello, Tessa,” Vita said in her warm voice. “Let’s sit in the booth over there in the corner, be a little bit out of the way. Do you want some coffee?”

“Maybe iced tea instead, please.”

“I’ll bring it right over. Go ahead and sit down.”

Tessa slid into the booth and faced the plaza. Quiet for a Friday, only a few pedestrians about in the still, hot afternoon. The tree made dappled patterns on the bricks, green and gold and soft charcoal. She pushed hair out of her sweaty face.

Vita set a plate down in front of Tessa. “Saved it for you.”

The cinnamon roll was enormous, heavily scented, frosted with cream cheese icing, and studded with raisins. Tessa turned the plate, admiring it from all sides. “So beautiful. Thanks.” She pointed to Vita’s cup. “You never seem to eat a meal.”

“I eat breakfast, but the rest of the day I’m eating all the time. Tasting, making sure everything is good. A piece of bacon, a sliver of ham. It all adds up.”

“I suppose so.” She tugged at her own waistband. “I’ve been eating nonstop since I got to this town. If we actually get a tour in here, I’ll have to lead all the hiking myself so that I can eat.”

“Is that the plan, a hiking tour?”

“Hiking is a part of it, always,” Tessa said. She took a bite of the cinnamon roll. “Oh, man. That’s awesome.”

Vita smiled.

“Right now I’m just checking out the possibilities on this trip,” Tessa said. “One of the things I wanted to ask you about is whether you’d be interested in hosting a bread-making
afternoon or something. I had such a great time yesterday that it made me think it might be fun for other people, too.”

“I don’t know that we’re really set up for that here.”

Tessa nodded. “Right, I thought of that, too. What if you did it at the Green Gate Cooking School? It seems like you have a good working relationship with them.”

Vita’s mouth turned down in consideration. “I might be open to that. Never considered teaching cooking, honestly.”

“You’re really good at it, though,” Tessa said. “The cooking, but also the teaching.”

“Thanks.”

“I have a list of things I’d like to ask about.” Tessa flipped through her notes. She savored another bite of the cinnamon roll, put down her fork, and looked out the window.

And there across the plaza came Vince, trailing girls like a litter of kittens, the baby on his hip, headed right this way.

“Oh, shit,” she said, forgetting herself for a minute. She looked at the door, but it was too late to get out without him seeing her, and she couldn’t exactly run out on Vita.

Who glanced out the window and gave Tessa a curious lift of an eyebrow.

“It’s a long story,” Tessa said.

When Vince came inside the café, he saw her immediately. For a long minute she stared at him, flushing when she saw the cut on his lower lip, a cut her tooth had made. The moment of the injury washed over her, steam and bare skin, his tongue and his blood in her mouth. Tessa looked away. Her hands were shaking.

And, of course, he didn’t just ignore her and go sit down. He came to the table, dark eyes burning into her face, his hip cocked to balance his daughter. “How’s the dog?” he asked.

Tessa knocked the fork off her plate with a clatter. “Sorry.”
She grabbed a napkin and wiped the sugar off the table. “He’s fine. I had him groomed. His name is Felix.”

“Felix is a cat’s name.” Natalie, dressed more neatly than Tessa had seen before, stepped up to the table.

“I know. But my dad says it means ‘lucky.’”

“What kind of dog?”

“He seems to be mostly border collie.” Relieved to be able to duck Vince’s glowering, she said, “Wow, I love your outfit. Is it new?”

“Yes.” She stood visibly taller at the compliment. “I got it for school, but my daddy let me wear it today and he’s going to wash it for next Tuesday, which is the first day. Look at the embroidery.” She offered her sleeve.

“Cool,” Tessa said, and meant it. “The colors are good for you. I like the purple around your face. It makes your eyes even bluer.”

“
I
got new clothes, too,” Jade said, pushing up to the table. She wore a green top and was so tan and sleek and tidy that she could have been on television.

“I see that. Very pretty.”

“Me, too,” the baby said, sticking out her shoe.

Tessa couldn’t help it, she was charmed into reaching for the tiny jeweled sandal on a chubby little foot. Hannah’s minuscule toenails were painted red. “Good job.”

Jade said, “My grandma didn’t want Nat to buy that.”

“None of your business, Jade,” Vince said, clamping a hand down on her shoulder. “Let’s go sit down now.”

Jade rolled her eyes but flounced away behind her dad. Tessa watched him cross the room, thinking, in spite of her will to forget, of the way his long, beautiful back looked naked, his powerful arms.

Natalie paused a minute and looked at Tessa as if she would
say something else. Then she just lifted a hand and walked away.

“You’re quite flushed,” Vita said.

“Mistake,” Tessa said firmly.

“Was it?”

“Definitely.”