Jo looked at the card for a long moment and then tucked it into the Grisham novel. She still didn’t know if she wanted to meet her mother or not.
Jo had certainly sat with enough witnesses over the years to know that Maria Parrano was sitting on some topic that was very uncomfortable and struggling to find some way to say it. Jo sighed inwardly. Well, she had decided this was her day scheduled to deal with things. If she remembered correctly, and she’d have to call Muriel later to be sure, she’d be on a flight to New York tomorrow afternoon. So, now was the time.
“Sometimes, Maria, it is easier if you just say it.”
Maria sipped her coffee again, but didn’t look away. Jo was learning that Angelo had inherited his directness fair and square from his mother. Or was it something ingrained in the Italian genetic code?
“I don’t know you, Jo Thompson. I would like to, but I do not.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about missing dinner, but my father—”
Maria’s hand wave of dismissal was so like Angelo’s that Jo had to bite her cheek not to smile.
“What you did was more important and we will eat together soon, you and I. I like to think that we would be friends.”
“I would like that too.” And Jo was a bit surprised that she wasn’t just being polite. Maria Parrano was a very pleasant person to sit with.
“You’re sweet,” she patted Jo’s knee without making it belittling. “But I have come to ask you a favor.”
A chill crept up Jo’s spine. A deep breath. A nod. She didn’t dare speak.
“I know there is something between you and my boy. I know that it is deep and important to both of you, and I don’t want to pry. But my Angelo is hurting so much. Can you at least tell me why so that I can help him somehow?”
This wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d thought Angelo had sent his mother to plead on his behalf. Instead, the mother had come herself out of love for her son.
“You love him very much, don’t you?” At Maria’s knowing nod Jo had to look away. It wasn’t enough, so she stood up and walked the ten feet to the far end of the narrow balcony and back.
How would her life have been if she’d had a mother like that? Who could guess? If her mother were still in Ketchikan, would Jo have ever left? Would she have been driven to become who she was? Oddly, she could trace nearly every success in her life back to that moment of abandonment. Her motivation to learn, to excel, to be better…
To be better than her own mother? To show her…what?
She sat abruptly.
“What is it, my girl?” Maria’s words shifted strangely in her head, combining oddly with her thoughts.
“I suddenly don’t know why I do the things I do.”
Maria took her hand, and massaged it as if to warm it. Her hands were like her son’s, slim, but strong. Calluses where a knife was held, dozens of tiny scars from a lifetime of cooking.
“I cook for thirty years. I raise two boys, as much mother to Russell as Julia was mother to Angelo. Suddenly one day their boy is married and they decide to retire. John and Julia, they suddenly don’t know what to do. I worry, but I listen to my heart and I know what to do. I know to go be with my Angelo.”
Maria pulled her over and kissed Jo’s cheek.
“And you help him see that I can help him. Tell him to let me make pastry. Oh, I think he would have found out the idea himself, but sometimes that boy moves so slow.”
“Sometimes he isn’t so slow.” Her voice felt dreamy and distant. As if it belonged to someone else. Maybe Counselor Thompson had deserted her for the day, leaving only a lost Jo behind.
“Oh?”
“He told me that he loved me.” It didn’t kill her to say. It didn’t even leave a bitter taste. It was simply a fact, a fact too unreal to, well, be real.
“When do he say so?”
Jo cast her mind back until once again she was sitting on that impossible flight.
“Right after my father’s funeral, while the plane was taking off.” She could feel the shuddering of the jet and taste the dry air pumped into the cabin as she worked her jaws to pop her ears.
“No,” Maria breathed it out as little more than an astonished whisper.
Jo could only nod. Here it came, the defense of her boy and why wasn’t Jo sensible enough to—
Maria Parrano slapped her hand sharply against her thigh with a loud smack.
“That idiota. I can no believe he do that to you. Is my son so stupido? He must be. Well, serves him right his heart is all hurt.”
Jo could only watch her wide-eyed as her rant continued.
“Men, they are so…” Maria tapped her own temple sharply. “What is the word I want?”
“Dense?”
“Yes,” Maria squeezed Jo’s hand. “Dense that is good word for my Angelo. You not have enough on your mind, so he must add love just then. Dense. Dense. Dense.”
Jo couldn’t stop watching the woman in amazement. Jo couldn’t have said it better herself. And it felt nice to have Maria on her side. It helped confirm that she hadn’t lost her mind simply because she didn’t love Angelo back.
“Of course,” Maria put her other hand over Jo’s. “You are so crazy about him. That is so easy to see, except I bet he can no see that or he not be so miserable. You make him wait Jo. You make him wait until you are good and ready to say you love him. Oh, I do like you. It will be so fun to have you as a daughter. So fun!”
Easy to see? Sure she liked Angelo but—
Now Maria looked directly at her with those dark warm eyes that sparkled with inner light.
“You take your time, Jo Thompson. You are too busy, too many things, they push at you. When you have time. After you decide about your mother and settle all of your father things, then is time to decide you love him. Not before then. Not now.”
Then she smiled again so strongly that Jo could feel herself smiling back despite the cry of protest that lurked inside, but couldn’t seem to find traction to leap off the tip of her tongue.
“After you do, oh, then you and me, we will have so much fun!”
Chapter 34
Jo never did get the note to Renée finished. She had an acceptable first draft, but it wasn’t near to sufficient. It wasn’t a matter of polishing the language, she simply had to throw it out and start over yet again. And she definitely wasn’t going to see Angelo, but she called Cassidy and Perrin for a get-together. The first of them she’d promised, and both she owed.
“Somewhere new. Somewhere different. Not near the Market.”
Cassidy picked Vito’s and by seven they were tucked side-by-side into a deep, burgundy faux-leather booth with two glasses of a local red that Cassidy recommended. On the other side, Perrin had a rum drink of the unlikely name Janky Panky that had turned out to be a nice mix of sweet and mule kick. They had a Beef Carpaccio and steamed clams with sausage that might give Cutter’s a bit of a challenge.
“It’s like Angelo’s place gone bad.” Perrin squinted up at the black wall and acrylic painted Italian waiters barely revealed by the dim candlelight. “Like I keep expecting a mob boss to show up in a ‘40s zoot suit carrying a violin case.” She leaned out of the booth and looked around the restaurant. “But here it would have a violin in it.”
The jazz pianist at the grand was far enough away to make it easy to talk, but close enough to reveal that she was good.
Perrin leaned out and looked toward the pianist this time. “Hey, she’s cute, too. I like long blondes.”
“What is it with you and women?” Cassidy’s tease was an old one. Anyone who might look good in one of Perrin’s designs elicited the cute comment.
“Oh, I’ve tumbled a girl or two in my time.”
Cassidy almost snorted her wine.
“Didn’t stick. I’ll take the guys.” Perrin winked at Jo when Cassidy glanced down to see if she was wearing any of her wine.
Cass had always had a slightly narrow view of the world, and every now and then Perrin fou
nd a way to give it a good sharp poke.
“So,” Perrin settled in her seat. “Are you better now?”
Jo nodded, “Much.”
“Good. Then let me just say, What in the world was that?”
Jo could do this. She’d told Mrs. Parrano, Maria, a nearly complete stranger. She could tell her best friends. And, as she’d advised Maria, she’d just say it before she could second guess herself.
“When I was up in Alaska, getting on the plane, Angelo told me that he loved me.”
“And that shorted out your brain for what reason?”
Not quite the reaction she’d been expecting. Neither showed shock and amazement.
“Because my father had died seventy-two hours before. And at his funeral, which was five geriatric guys and an ex-Ukrainian Army woman pissing off the end of pier in his honor, I found out my mother lives in Redmond.”
“Which Redmond?”
“The one like ten miles that way.” Jo pointed over her shoulder. Or was it the other way? Vito’s was partly below street level, dark and dive-like. There was no obvious view of Puget Sound to provide direction. She took a breath and just said it again to see if she could.
“Then he tells me that he loves me.” It came out, but it still wasn’t easy.
Cassidy studied her wine.
Perrin just shrugged, “Okay, minus ten points for timing but about plus five gajillion for having the good sense to fall in love with our Jo. So what’s the problem?”
“What did you say?” Cass spoke softly. Right at the heart of the matter. If she hadn’t been so involved in food and wine, Jo might have tried to convince her to go for law. She had the right kind of mind, but her palate was world class.
“I’m not ready. I didn’t say anything.”
“What?” Perrin took up a clam on her small fork and waved it at Jo, dribbling garlic butter–white wine sauce up and down the middle of the table. “Tell me one thing wrong with him other than lousy timing. Wait, does he have good timing in bed?”
“Exceptional timing.” She knew how to make Perrin crazy. “He’s talking about borrowing Russell’s sailboat, especially since Russell can’t really use it with a broken leg.”
Cassidy’s grin was easy. “Yes, his sailboat offers many, many possibilities.”
Perrin groaned in voyeuristic delight, placed a hand over her heart and panted a few times.
“That was good for me. Was that good for you? So,” she waved her clam again and dribbled some more. “Tell me one thing wrong with him.” She finally ate the clam.
“I’m not ready.”
“Evading the question, Counselor. Naughty, naughty lawyer. Are you in love with him or not?”
Jo tried to answer the question. She really did. She opened her mouth and nothing came out. She closed it then tried again.
“Maria Parrano thinks I am.”
Cassidy twisted to look right at her. “You talked to Angelo’s mother about Angelo being in love with you?”
“He’s not in love with me, he only thinks that he is.”
Perrin pointed another clam at Jo, but faced Cassidy. “Is it just me, or is she avoiding every question we put to her?”
“It’s not you.” Cassidy’s voice was grim. Grim enough that maybe she was thinking of changing over to law.
“She trapped me.”
“How?”
“She was nice. Okay? Are you happy? She was nice to me. She told me how excited she was that I was going to be her daughter and how much fun we’d have together.” Now that she’d started Jo couldn’t stop. Her voice kept rising and she couldn’t reel it back in.
“What am I supposed to do with that? Tell me one thing I want more in my life than that? I want my mother to be there for me and for us to have fun together. Then my mother’s lover offers…” She waved a hand helplessly.
“Your…mother’s…lover?” Perrin was grinning. “I thought we were talking about your lover’s mother. Or is there something going on between Eloise Thompson and Angelo that we need to know about? Because we all know how Perrin loves salacious tidbits.” In the middle of the last sentence Perrin started tipping over into giggles despite her best efforts at a straight face.
Cassidy’s cough didn’t sound one bit like a cough.
Jo gave up. What could she do? In moments all three of them were howling with laughter.
Jo was sitting on the plane, the country rolling along beneath her. Now she had two missions in New York.
Her primary purpose was a meeting with the Undersecretary of Maritime Law at the United Nations tomorrow morning. It was just a preliminary meeting. Information gathering. It would be six long months of research and planning before she’d be ready for even the first meeting with the lower level representatives of the nations with Arctic claims. Most of that six months would be split equally between Juneau and Barrow. She needed to switch that. Hitting Barrow in mid-winter was not part of her plan. Barrow first, then Juneau. Even if Barrow would make Ketchikan look like paradise.
Jo ignored the sudden knot in her stomach, putting it down to airplane food.
Her secondary task was a last minute “favor” for Renée Linden. Jo really had to hand it to the woman, she was a spectacular strategist. After days without any contact whatsoever, she managed to drop by Jo’s office as she was double-checking her briefcase and gathering her coat before leaving for the airport. Again, not enough time for a proper conversation.
But somehow, as a favor to Renée, Jo was now hand-carrying a folder of ad proofs to New York for the supermodel’s approval. Not FedEx, not Internet. It was to be a hand carry and a personal meeting.
Melanie, the supermodel, was going to meet her at the airport so that they could go over the proofs together. Something about Russell refusing to release them without her final approval. It made sense if they’d been friends. It sort of made sense.
Actually, it made no sense at all. Apparently Melanie was flying out of JFK shortly after Jo was flying in, so that part worked. But none of the rest of it did. Renée had clearly slipped another fast one by her and the hidden strategy eluded Jo the rest of the way across the country.
“Russell, he does such beautiful work.” Which sounded even better in Melanie’s exquisite voice.
The Palm Bar and Grille at JFK was pleasant with dark wood decor and prompt service. They’d opted to split a Crab Louie Salad, and even though Jo had only had the one glass of wine last night, she opted for a diet Coke as did Melanie.
They had a spread of six different ads that could be based on The Glass Shoppe photo shoot in the Market on the table between them.
“I like this one the best.”
Jo had to agree. “You do look incredibly appealing in that one. Good for a Playboy or a GQ placement. But what do you think of this one for Condé Nast?” It was more playful. Rather than the flirty punch that Melanie delivered so consistently, it had captured her with a smile just being surprised from her lips as she turned to a vase of the deepest red that arced like a tulip petal.
“You are good at this.” Melanie tipped her head one way and another. “I have to think about this one some more. I usually go for sexuality, but this is interesting. You are right of course, use this for them. I need to think about other demographics of my market. I won’t be the most beautiful one forever.”
Not on display, Melanie actually had very little accent or affectation. Her hair was hanked back in a long ponytail. Her skin with minimal makeup was more human. And her accent, rather than suggesting France, hinted ever so slightly at New York. Upper East Side perhaps.
They went through the rest of the ads relatively quickly in between slow bites of crab salad. Then they reached the ads built on the images that had been shot at Angelo’s. The difference was immediately obvious.
“Those are all Claude’s, aren’t they?” Melanie indicated the reject pile.
Jo checked the photo index list and compared the photo numbers. “Every one.”
“Russell is
so good. I’m glad he picked up the camera again. It is a part of who he is. He had such a talent. I never look so good as when Russell takes the picture.”
There was some note in her voice that Jo couldn’t help noticing. “You love him very much, don’t you?”
Melanie glanced at her then looked away. But she didn’t need to say any more.
Jo rested a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I didn’t know.”
Melanie stared for another long moment at the far end of the bar before turning back to Jo. Then she shrugged those perfect shoulders helplessly.
“At first, I fell for Russell because he is sooo handsome and we look so good together. Then I find that he is worth many, many millions. I liked the sound of that also very much.”
Even without the French accent, Melanie had clearly hidden inside its mask so long that it shifted her speech patterns.
“I grew up poor. I really liked the sound of that money. And then I liked Russell. And then…” Again the elegant shrug. “I was not strong enough or challenging enough or something I no understand. He is good with Cassidy, better than he would be with me. We would have had one of those two-year marriages on the front page of the Enquirer with all of the ugly at the end. It is better that we did not.”
Jo squeezed Melanie’s arm.
They sorted the ads based on Angelo’s in an easy accord that required few words.
There was one more folder at the bottom of the box. Melanie opened it while Jo made notes for Renée.
“Oh,” Melanie’s soft exclamation drew Jo’s attention.
It took her several moments to make sense of the images Melanie was spreading out across the table.
She vaguely remembered Russell snapping photos during the meal, just some quick candids. No flash umbrellas, no makeup artists, no clothier.
There were two shots of Melanie and Perrin both looking stunning in Perrin’s designer clothes. Russell had done one mockup of each, the first one for Pike Place Market, and the other for Perrin’s Glorious Garb. The second one was the killer. They were huddled together as if conspiring to break every heart they came upon. Bare shoulders, a deep, deep V-neck on Perrin, an amazing length of leg from Melanie.
The Complete Where Dreams Page 51