by Rayna Morgan
"Because those feelings are common to most of us at one time or another. We worry we won't be good enough. We're afraid to try something we'd like to do out of a false sense of perfectionism. We convince ourselves if we can't do something perfectly, we shouldn't do it at all. But nothing is as empowering as real world validation, even if it's failure. Successful people are willing to fail because they don't see any failure as final; they view it as the discovery of how or what to change to be successful."
Jon agreed. "I take a lot of pressure off myself when I tell myself I don't have to be perfect."
"I hope I've never passed on to you the idea things have to be perfect. Your goal should be completion, not perfection. Instead of writing a perfect essay, focus on writing a good essay. Instead of running a perfect race, focus on running the best race you can. Most importantly, give yourself permission to fail. If you do fail at something, appreciate the fact you're one step closer to doing it better the next time. Enjoy getting something done; don't worry about getting it done perfectly."
Jon shoved the last cookie in his mouth, turning back to his studies. "That's exactly what I'm going to do right now; write a good essay without worrying about it being perfect."
Telling Gracie to retrieve the empty lunch pail, Lea led the way downstairs. Something in her conversation with her son had resonated, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
• • •
Lea had a hunch but she needed verification. She punched in her neighbor's phone number and waited on the front porch for her. Lea's neighbor was a family counselor and frequently the source of invaluable advice of both a personal and professional nature.
"Sit and relax, Dorothy," Lea said, gesturing toward a wicker rocker. The chair groaned slightly under the older woman's large frame.
Lea reviewed her conversation with Jon, noting her surprise to learn of her son's feelings of low self-esteem. "I've always been happy he appears so self-assured. He typically carries himself with poise and a sense of confidence beyond his years."
"You forget what a minefield of emotions the teenage years can be,” Dorothy suggested.
"It's true. I can think back to when I experienced feelings of low self-esteem or insecurity. In school, I was embarrassed when I won awards, feeling they were undeserved. Even after I started to work, I often felt like an impostor in my job; that there was someone else smarter, more qualified, or better suited to the position."
"Those are feelings common to many of us," Dorothy assured her.
"I'm sure neither Paul nor Maddy ever feels that way. They're comfortable with who they are and where they're headed."
"Don't be so sure. Almost all of us experience feelings of self-doubt from time to time. If we use those moments constructively, they can serve as guideposts telling us we're headed in the wrong direction. On the other hand, they can be a great disservice if we use them to beat ourselves up."
Lea considered her neighbors’ comments before continuing. "I sometimes feel a need to prove myself; to validate my actions, to make sense of who I am and what I'm doing. As soon as I accomplish one goal, I'm on to another. It's as though if I don't keep moving, I'll lose sight of who I am."
"Or," Dorothy suggested, "of who you think you should be?"
"There are times I feel I'm living my life in someone else's shoes," Lea admitted. "Shoes which don't always fit."
"We all have those moments. It's part of discovering who we truly are."
"Not my sister. Maddy is in sync with her universe and her place in it."
"If you asked, you might be surprised to discover she's had doubts like the rest of us."
"Fortunately, I feel on steady ground most of the time. It helps being married to a man who lets me feel comfortable with who I am by loving me no matter what. It would be terrible to feel you couldn't be yourself because you had to live up to someone's expectations."
"It's often the case one spouse can't accept they are loved for who they are,” Dorothy said. “They're always trying to become the person they think their mate wants them to be."
"What makes it so hard for some people to accept that their spouse loves them?" Lea asked.
"Any number of reasons: different backgrounds may cause a person to feel they aren't on equal footing with their partner, a history of low self-esteem, or someone in their past convincing them they're unworthy."
Lea jumped up, startling her neighbor. "Sorry, Dorothy; I've got to go.”
She knew someone who fit that description to a tee. If what she believed was true, she could clear her client of at least one of his motives for murder and give Angelo some peace of mind.
• • •
Angelo and Camilla Russo lived in a luxury development of multi-million dollar homes complete with its own golf course. Built on the hills above the freeway, every house boasted spectacular views of the valley and ocean. Lea had received a detailed description of the Russo's home from her sister who had visited on occasion to help Camilla with furnishings.
Lea drove into the circular driveway and parked in front of the southern colonial style facade. From Maddy's description, she knew behind the three car garage were a pool, tennis court, and putting green.
Camilla answered the door dressed in black capris and a tank top which accented the perfection of her delicate figure. Four-inch suede wedges added to her short stature.
Lea followed her through an entry with a crystal chandelier, views of the lush landscape, and a sweeping staircase. They walked past a formal living room and an elegant dining room. Lea caught a glimpse of a kitchen Maddy had described as having a central island, a walk-in pantry, and a dumb waiter to bring groceries from the garage. They arrived at a stylishly furnished family room complete with wet bar, fireplace, and adjoining billiard room.
"I always find this room more comfortable than the living room, and I enjoy the view," Camilla said, pointing toward the floor to ceiling windows revealing a panoramic vista of the valley.
"It's fabulous," Lea agreed. She took one of the high-backed chairs. Camilla sat on the sofa across from her.
"I'm glad you called. I know you worked with Angelo on the programs and invitations for his annual culinary cook-off. He was very pleased with the work you did. He's been meaning to invite you to dinner so I could meet you and your husband."
Lea realized Angelo hadn't informed his wife of his concerns about being arrested for Barrett's murder.
"I had lunch with your husband just the other day."
Camilla's eyes registered surprise. "At the Apex? It must have been a late lunch. It's his habit to eat at two o'clock after he's supervised the lunch service. A setting is left on one small table where he samples the day's special and critiques how the dish was plated. I've witnessed more than one dressing down in the kitchen over a presentation that was less than flawless."
"Actually, we ate at the Harbor. He wanted to talk about Barrett's death."
The young woman's eyes teared up. "Such a terrible thing. Heartbreaking for Julia. But why was Angelo talking with you about it?"
"The Detective who interviewed Angelo is a friend of mine. Your husband thought I might have information about the case. I understand you met Tom Elliot at the restaurant."
"I don't remember his name but yes, I met a Detective. He asked me some questions, too."
Lea didn't want to ask the next question, but she knew she must. "Did he ask if you were having an affair with Barrett?"
Camilla's body tensed. She sat erect, wringing her hands. "It was a nasty, terrible thing he said. How could he, and at such a time? I think your friend is despicable."
"He was only doing his job. Sometimes it requires him to explore avenues he'd rather not. He didn't mean to hurt either you or Angelo. He needs to learn the truth about what happened to Barrett."
Camilla collapsed into the sofa, silent sobs racking her body. "I'm sorry. I said a wicked thing about your friend, but I told him, and I'll tell you. No, no, a thousand times no. I was not having
an affair with Barrett. I love my husband; he's my life. He means everything to me."
"I believe you," Lea said, joining Camilla on the sofa, taking the other woman's hand in hers. "Tom was basing his assumption on your inexplicable activities the last several weeks. Why didn't you tell the Detective and your husband what you've been doing and erase any doubts?"
The young woman hesitated. Her beauty was undeniable; her profile as she gazed thoughtfully toward the garden would have made a striking portrait.
"Do you know how Angelo and I met?"
"He told me briefly you were young, and you completely stole his heart."
"I had graduated from high school and was living with my parents. My father has always worked in the vineyards in Napa. He's been with the same winery now for more than thirty years. He started picking grapes and spraying pests. Next, he learned how to prune the vines and help with the planting. Now he operates the harvesting machines. It can be hard work, but he loves working with the grapes and the soil. He has a true gift for nurturing the plants. He's as proud as the owners when they win prizes for their wine."
Lea remained silent, letting Camilla proceed at her own pace.
"Through high school, I worked part-time in the restaurant at the vineyard. The day after graduation, I went to work full-time guiding tours and organizing promotional events.
Angelo was a frequent visitor to Napa in search of vintage wines for his restaurant. One day he came to a tasting I arranged at our winery. Other visitors tried the samples, bought some wine, and left. Angelo stayed. We went on talking and laughing long after the sample bottles were empty. I fell completely and hopelessly in love with him that afternoon. I thought he was the most gorgeous man I'd ever laid eyes on; so debonair and charming. It was all like a dream. We married and moved away before I knew what had happened. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world."
"Did it last?"
"My love for him has never changed, but our life together did once he opened the Apex. He had to spend so much time to make it work. I grew lonely for my family. I flew up to visit them once a month and talked to my mother on the phone, but it wasn't the same as seeing them every day.
Angelo saw I was becoming despondent. He suggested I get involved in the Theatre with our friends Barrett and Julia. I started volunteering, helping with ushering and ticket sales. I was always much too shy to go on stage and perform.
Barrett was kind and attentive. He took me under his wing and made me feel at home. Our relationship deepened into something more than friendship without our realizing it. It wasn't love for either of us. It was more a mutual desire to experience the fiery passion of first love. It wasn't long before I realized I was married to the only man I could ever feel truly passionate about."
"How did Angelo and Julia find out about the affair?"
"I told Angelo after it ended. I knew Barrett boasted to other men about his sexual conquests. I was afraid to have my husband find out that way. More than that, I could no longer bear to have the terrible secret between us."
"He forgave you?"
"Yes. It nearly broke his heart but in time, he did. He partially blamed himself. It changed his priorities. We spend a lot more time together. Our marriage is stronger than it's ever been."
"Then what are you doing at night you're afraid to tell him about?"
Camilla looked alarmed. "Is that what he told you? Is that why he thinks I was having an affair?"
"He doesn't think so now. He was confused and afraid when he first found out from your housekeeper you were gone at night while he was at the restaurant."
"Afraid I was cheating again?"
"It only entered his mind because you weren't forthcoming with him about what you were doing. He was afraid you might be unhappy in your marriage again, and he hasn't trusted Barrett since that last betrayal."
"Why didn't he ask if he had questions about what I was doing?"
"He hoped you would want to tell him. He didn't want to act like an overbearing, jealous husband."
Camilla's chin dropped to her chest. She stroked her hand across her forehead as though trying to brush away what she was hearing. "How foolish I've been. Proud and foolish. I can see now I've hurt him, the last thing in the world I would have hoped to do."
Lea pursued her theory of the secret behind Camilla's actions. "It wasn't selfish pride, was it? It was you trying to make him proud of you."
"My father made my sisters and I feel unworthy, less important in his eyes. He loved our brothers more. He had big plans for them to have a better life than working in the fields. Even though he loved it, he considered manual labor beneath his sons. He wanted them to work in offices, live in big houses, and drive fancy cars."
"And do they?"
"One is a stockbroker; the other a lawyer. The ironic thing is I don't think I've ever seen the same look of satisfaction in their eyes I see in my father's eyes when he turns over a handful of dirt he's nourished or picked a grape from a vine he's grown. He talked to them about earning money; he never told them to follow their passion. It's one of the things I love most about Angelo; seeing him doing something which expresses his passion every day."
"Is that what you're doing now? Following your passion by going back to school?"
"How did you guess?"
"By Angelo telling me about your love of books and reading. He said you're going out at night and spending more time on your computer. It sounds to me like someone enrolled in night classes."
"All the women I meet at the restaurant have college degrees. Many have careers of their own. It's the same with our neighbors. It makes me feel inadequate like I don't belong."
"You've created a story in your head, comparing yourself to the clientele of your husband's exclusive restaurant and people living in this elite neighborhood. Not having a degree doesn't make you less worthy than any of them."
"None of our friends know I don't have a degree. I didn't want anyone to find out I was taking classes."
"Angelo doesn't love you less because you lack a diploma."
"That's why I've kept it a secret from him. He'd insist it doesn't make any difference. He wouldn't understand how important it is to me."
"I believe he'd want you to do whatever makes you happy."
"But I wanted it to be a surprise. I've dreamed of the day I can invite him to the graduation ceremony and walk across the podium to get my diploma with him sitting in the audience."
"How did you think you could keep night school a secret?"
"I've been working out an excuse to use. My friend teaches a yoga class. I was planning to tell Angelo I've signed up for her yoga class. Now he'll never believe me."
"You must tell Angelo the truth. He'll be proud. No one will think less of you; they'll be supportive. If they aren't, you shouldn't feel badly not having them for friends. The important thing is I need to tell Tom so he'll understand what Angelo already knew: you and Barrett were not having an affair, so your husband had no motive for murder."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Pat's first night working at the Card Club was uneventful, but she hit it off with the bartender. "At least you know what garnishes to use. I had one waitress put a maraschino cherry in a martini."
"So you like working here?"
"Yeah. Most of the regulars are nice guys. Sometimes the tourists get a little rowdy, but I understand; they're on vacation, they want to let loose a little."
"Any trouble makers?"
"No one who makes it past Jacko."
"The greeter at the front door?"
"Yeah. I've only seen him kick out two guys in all the time I've worked here, and I've been here since the Club opened."
"What's Mickey like as a boss?"
"We don't see much of the guy. He makes an appearance sometime during the day or at night, but he mostly stays holed up in his office. He knows all the employees by name, though. If the Club's not busy, he stops to ask the girls about their families, how their kids are doing, that kin
d of stuff." Tim moved glasses from a washing sink to a rinsing sink as he talked. "He's never here from one to two o'clock. That's when he takes his mums to lunch. Her favorite place is the cafeteria downtown. She uses a walker. He laughs about how he follows behind her picking up plates of things she points to. She only eats about half of it, so he eats the rest. He never gets to pick out what he wants."
"What does Mums think of having bodyguards as lunch companions?"
"She doesn't like it. Says it makes her son look like the mafia. He leaves them behind at his office. It's the only time they aren't with him."
"Does he get many visitors?"
"Not many. If anyone tries to see the boss, they have to pass through his two bodyguards so it's mostly people with appointments." He stopped washing glasses and looked at her. "Why are you so interested in the boss anyway?"
"Just trying to figure out if my boyfriend can come around without the boss hassling me," she ad-libbed.
"I wouldn't advise it. Mickey's all business; he expects the same from his employees. You'll do better if you take care of your personal life when you aren't working."
"Good advice. Thanks for the heads up."
"Let me know if you have any other questions. I think you'll like working here. Most of the waitresses wouldn't give up their job at the Card Club for anything. The tips are good and when we've had a big week, Mickey walks around the club like a little Caesar laying a hundred-dollar bill on each employee."
She needed one more thing from the bartender since he was the one responsible for scheduling the cocktail waitresses. "Can I ask a favor?"
"Shoot."
"My car's knocking real bad. I can't wait any longer to take it to the shop. Tomorrow's my day off at the Finish Line. Can I pick up an extra shift here so I'll have the dough to get my car out of hock when it's fixed?"
"It's alright by me. I'll pencil you in. We got a bus load of tourists coming in. We can use the extra help. You need a ride from the repair shop?"
"No thanks. The shop's close to the bus stop. I'll hop a bus." She had an afterthought. "I might need a half-hour break when they call to tell me it's ready."