“Not anytime soon,” he said under his breath and sat down again.
Twenty-Eight
On Wednesday, Julianne drove down the highway toward the town center of Santa Ynez deep in conversation with herself. Francesca had a right to come to her own conclusions about her mother. Most people had family members they would rather not have. Mothers weren’t all cut from the same cloth. Some women looked to their mothers for everything, called them daily for advice, dropped in for coffee, scheduled shopping trips. Others made the obligatory phone call once a week, sent a Mothers’ Day card in May and that was it. Francesca had the choice taken from her too early and by the one person whose love was supposed to be unconditional. But she was intelligent. She wouldn’t be taken in by the likes of Lisa DeAngelo.
“Stop trying to control everything,” Julianne said out loud. “Let the girl come to her own conclusions.”
The thing of it was, Julianne considered herself to be Francesca’s mother figure. Over the years, she’d grown protective of Frank DeAngelo’s discarded daughter. As a little girl, all dark eyes and long legs, abandoned by her mother, disregarded by her father, Francesca had pulled at Julianne’s heart. That hadn’t changed in thirty years. Jake’s defection hadn’t helped Francesca’s confidence either. And now Lisa was back and, because she was Lisa, more damage was inevitable.
Julianne didn’t usually spend time agonizing over what she couldn’t change. Deliberately, she forced herself to think of something else. Drew’s hearing was tomorrow and he’d specifically asked for her to be there. She pulled into a parking spot down the street from Mitch’s campaign headquarters and reached into the back for the bag of muffins she’d made earlier. It was as good an excuse as any for a visit.
It was the first time Julianne had been to the campaign office. She pushed open the door and looked around. A woman draped in an oversize green T-shirt with the words Save a Tree was seated behind a desk staring at a computer screen. A young man barely out of his teens, with an intense look on his face, was arguing with someone over the phone. She spotted Mitch immediately. His back was to the door, and looking up at him as if every word was gospel to live by was Lisa DeAngelo.
“May I help you?” the T-shirted woman asked.
Julianne’s smile was brilliant and unnatural. “I’m Julianne Harris.” She held up her bag. “I’ve brought muffins.”
“I don’t think anyone ordered any muffins.”
“No one did. They’re my treat.”
“Oh.” The woman looked surprised. “Thank you. Would you care to meet Mr. Gillette? He’s in charge.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Julianne said. Mitch had turned around and, over Lisa’s head, their eyes met and held.
Julianne set the bag down on the front desk. “Enjoy the muffins.” She turned and walked quickly out the door. The bum in her stomach intensified. She rifled through her purse for her keys. Where were they? Her heart pounded and her chest felt tight. She pulled at the car door. It was locked. Her tears were very close to the surface. Soon, very soon, she would lose control. She left the car and walked down the street, blind to everything around her. Where could she go?
She heard Mitch shout her name. Ignoring him, she quickened her pace. Across the street, Marcy Goodman waved to her from the bakery. She liked Marcy even though her bakery was Julianne’s competition. She forced herself to wave back. She needed to find a private place, somewhere safe without people, to find her keys, collect her thoughts, corral her emotions. But where?
Footsteps sounded behind her. A hand reached out and gripped her arm, swinging her around. Mitch looked down at her, a concerned frown marring the space between his eyebrows. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you hear me call you?”
She blinked her eyes against the tears threatening to spill over. “No,” she lied.
He searched her face. “You’re angry.”
“I’m furious.”
“Why?”
She jerked her arm away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I suggested she help Francesca at the winery. She said you wanted her out of the way.”
“I want her gone.”
“That’s unrealistic, Julianne,” he said gently. “She’s Francesca’s mother.”
“That didn’t stop her from running away twenty-four years ago. She wasn’t here for Francie’s graduation from high school or college. She wasn’t here for her wedding or when she had Nick. As far as I’m concerned, she’s abrogated all rights to motherhood.”
“Shouldn’t that be Francesca’s call?”
“Maybe,” Julianne conceded, “but it certainly shouldn’t be yours.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re giving her a reason to stay.”
“I did it for you,” he protested. “For your family.”
Scorn laced every syllable. “I doubt that very much.”
His jaw clenched. “Are you suggesting I have another motive?”
Julianne’s anger had faded to resigned contempt. Her mind was sharp again. “Lisa DeAngelo is a magnet for any man between fifteen and seventy. She can’t help herself. She’s completely without morals. She’s beautiful, which helps, and very sexy, and you’ve bought into it. She’s no more interested in helping your cause than I am. I suppose I should be grateful she’s taken with you. That way maybe she’ll leave my son alone, although I doubt it. I only pray that Jake, at least, is smart enough to see through her, even if he is his father’s son.”
“You’re not being objective, Julianne. The woman is working in my office. Eight other people also work there. I have no interest in Mrs. DeAngelo. Even if you hadn’t told me what transpired between you, I wouldn’t be interested. Yes, she’s attractive. I’ll even admit that she’s beautiful. But so is Francesca and I’m not the slightest bit interested in her, either.”
Julianne swallowed. The steel-wool feeling in her throat wouldn’t go away. “You don’t understand. Carl wasn’t interested in her either, not seriously. He loved me. He was terrified of losing me. When it came to a choice between us, she lost. But it doesn’t take away the pain of knowing that my husband was unfaithful because he couldn’t help himself. Our life, our family, I wasn’t enough beside the temptation of a woman who refused to lift a finger in the operation of the vineyard, who spent her days watching soap operas while waiting for the socially correct time to start mixing martinis, a woman who never read a book or a newspaper and who thought that Zimbabwe was an exotic perfume. Lisa is potent. She’s also relentless. She made a shambles of my life for a very long time. I can’t risk it again.” She threw down the gauntlet. “I won’t see you or allow myself to care for you if you have anything to do with her.”
Mitch shook his head. “I’m an adult, Julianne. I made an enormous and regrettable relationship mistake once in my life. I won’t be making another. I’m sorry your husband hurt you. But it isn’t sound or fair for you to blame me, or any other man, for his mistake. Frankly, it doesn’t sound to me that you married a man worthy of you. You’ve done much better for yourself now that you’re alone. I’ve fallen in love with you. It’s taken me a long time to say that to a woman. You’re spunky and intelligent and classy, and so sexy I have a hard time keeping my hands off you, except that I know you’re not ready for that. I can wait because I’m in for the duration. It isn’t likely I’m going to be diverted by anyone as transient or as obvious as Lisa DeAngelo.”
She crossed her arms, fighting the urge to fling herself against his chest and cling to him, crying out, I’m ready. I’m ready. Instead, she said, “Why won’t you tell her to go?”
“Because that’s nothing more than offering an aspirin to heal your cancer. You’ve been living with this for nearly thirty years without resolution because she’s been out of the picture. You’ve convinced yourself you can’t compete with her at the most basic level. I’m telling you you’re wrong and I’ll prove it. Lisa DeAngelo can move into my back bedroom for all I care and it won’t matter
because all I see is you. As for Jake, he’s in love with Francesca. He won’t be making his father’s mistake.”
Julianne stared at him, emotions roiling through her. She’d listened to him, but she was far from convinced. The bottom line was that Lisa was staying. Because of Mitch, she had an excuse to stay. “I’ve got work to do,” she said woodenly. “Tell Drew I haven’t forgotten about tomorrow. I’ll be there.”
“Julianne.” He held her shoulders. His lips brushed the top of her head. “Don’t go like this.”
“I’m no good right now,” she explained, pulling away. “You said things I’ve never considered before. Now I need to think, not talk. Please don’t try to stop me.
He watched her walk away, worried but slightly reassured by her words. One of the qualities he most admired in her was her ability to step back and analyze.
Today was an aberration. Normally she wasn’t impulsive, or temperamental, or over-the-top emotional. He liked her evenness, her grounded common sense. She would come around. She wouldn’t be Julianne if she didn’t.
Nick tiptoed to the kitchen door and looked around. His excuse was a cookie and a glass of milk. What he really wanted was his grandmother back. She was the constant in Nick’s short life, always ready with something delicious to eat, a ready smile and a word of praise. Unlike his parents, she had time to listen to him talk. His friends liked her, too. She knew when to ask questions and when to nod her head and say nothing. Nick loved her. She was tied with his mother for favorite-person-in-his-life status. He’d never heard her raise her voice except to call him in for dinner and yet, yesterday, he heard her yell at his other grandmother, the new one, the one he’d never seen before.
As far as Nick was concerned, if Gran didn’t like his new grandmother, the one who told him to call her Lisa, he didn’t like her either. Today, while he was at school listening to his teacher read from Stuart Little, he decided to tell her. Maybe she would smile again. Maybe she would even laugh.
Filled with a sense of purpose, he called out from the door. “Hi, Gran.”
She looked up and immediately smiled. “Hi, sweetie. Is it that time already?”
He nodded.
“Are you hungry?”
He wasn’t, but refusing food wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Yes.”
“Really?” She looked surprised. “For real food or something sweet?”
“A cookie and milk.”
Again she smiled. “I have just the thing.” She unwrapped a plate arranged with an array of supersize cookies and offered it to Nick along with a napkin. “Help yourself.”
He chose a chocolate chunk, set it and the napkin on the table and poured himself a glass of milk. “Do you want any?” he asked.
She thought a minute. “I do. Pour a glass for me. I’ll have a cookie, too.”
“Choose peanut butter and we can share,” Nick suggested. He poured a glass of milk for Julianne and left the carton on the table.
She laughed and he felt better.
“So,” she began when they were seated across from each other at the small table. “Don’t you have practice tonight?”
“I didn’t go,” he informed her.
She bit into her cookie. “Why not?”
“Mom couldn’t pick me up and Dad said he’d be working late.”
Julianne frowned. “No one asked me. I could have picked you up.”
“Mom said not to bother you.”
Julianne’s cheeks flamed. “Next time ask me anyway.”
“It’s okay,” he reassured her. “I haven’t missed any other practices. I won’t get in trouble.”
“I’m relieved to hear that. But, next time, I still want you to ask me. Okay?”
“Okay.” He swung his legs back and forth under the table. “Is Lisa still here?”
“I think so.”
“I don’t like her very much. Do you?” he asked innocently.
Her answer would influence Nick. She knew that. “Why don’t you like her?” she hedged.
He shrugged. “She talks too much and she laughs too loud.”
“Those aren’t reasons to dislike someone, Nick.” She refilled his glass. “I’d wait until you know her better before you make any judgments.”
“You don’t like her,” he observed.
“No,” Julianne said honestly. “But I knew her a long time ago. Maybe she’s changed. Anyway, she isn’t my grandmother. She’s yours.”
“How long is she staying?”
“I don’t know.” She brushed the hair away from his forehead. Such a solemn little boy with Francie’s big brown eyes. “Why?”
“Mom said she was making dinner until Lisa left.”
“She misunderstood. I’ll make dinner just like I always do.”
He nodded. “Good.”
She laughed. “Any preferences?”
“Hamburgers.”
“With French fries?”
“And ice cream,” he added. “Peppermint-stick.” “We’d better go to the store. I don’t think we have peppermint-stick ice cream.”
* * *
Four hours later a serene Julianne presided over a meal of hamburgers, French fries, sweet corn and peppermint-stick ice cream.
Jake licked the back of his spoon. “Great food, Mom,” he said, flashing her a genuine smile. “Not your usual gourmet spread, but a nice change.”
Nick piped up. “I picked the ice cream.”
“Thank you, buddy. It’s my favorite.” His father winked at him. “There was a time when peppermint only came out at Christmas time.”
“What a shame,” murmured Lisa.
“You’re not eating your dessert,” Francesca said to her mother.
“It’s not my favorite.”
“Oh.” Francesca looked worried. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you. I don’t eat dessert.” She rested her hand on her concave stomach. “After a certain age, a woman needs to be careful of her figure.”
Jake’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re kidding! You could stand to eat dessert now and then, Lisa.”
“I’ll take that into consideration,” Lisa replied sweetly.
Julianne reached across the table for Lisa’s ice cream and set it in front of Nick. “You know what they say,” she said to her grandson.
“What?”
“One man’s misfortune is another’s gain. Live it up.”
He beamed. “Two ice creams in one day?”
Not once did she look at Francesca. “Only on very special days.”
He dug into the ice cream. “My project is due tomorrow,” he announced.
“Are you finished?” his mother asked.
“I need help with the map and I need to bring in Indian corn bread.”
“What kind of map? Jake asked.
“It’s a relief map. I have to make it with flour and water.”
Francesca looked alarmed. “How long have you known about this map?”
“Since the beginning. I told you a long time ago.”
“And you waited until tonight to remind us? I have a board meeting.” She looked at Jake. “What about you?”
He shook his head slowly. “I told you I have to present papers to the loan rep tonight. I’ll try to get back as early as I can, but I can’t cancel. What if we do it after I get back?”
“It’ll be too late. Nick will be in bed.”
Julianne spoke up. “I’ll help him. We’ll make the corn bread and put together the map at the same time.”
“Don’t you have food to get ready for tomorrow?” Francesca asked.
“I’ll do that after Nick goes to bed, unless—” Julianne looked at Lisa. “Maybe you could help him.”
“That’s okay, Mom,” Nick said quickly. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure you will, Nick?” Lisa’s voice fluttered. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about it. Besides, I’ve worked all afternoon at the campaign office. I’m exhausted.”
The silence wa
s difficult.
Finally Julianne spoke. “We’ve all worked today.”
“Maybe Nick needs to learn not to leave his homework until the last minute,” Lisa suggested. “Let it be a lesson for him.”
“I didn’t leave it,” Nick protested.
“Give the kid a break,” said Jake. “He’s eight years old.”
Francesca spoke carefully, directing the full force of her words at her mother. “He didn’t leave it until the last minute. The rest of the project is done. He forgot to remind us. There’s a difference. Nick is not irresponsible.”
“It’s all beside the point anyway. Julianne can help him.”
Francesca folded and refolded the napkin in her lap. Her cheeks burned and it was an effort to keep her voice level. “Julianne is busy.” She smiled at her son. “I’ll help you, sweetheart, and next time, I’ll put the date your project is due on the calendar.”
“Well.” Lisa affected a yawn. “Now that it’s all settled, I think I’ll turn in.” She stood. “Good night.”
They watched her leave. Silence, thick as syrup, settled over the table.
Jake rubbed his chin. “She’s an original. I’ll give you that.”
Francesca’s cheeks were very red.
Julianne smiled at Nick. He smiled back.
Twenty-Nine
The following morning, Mitch waited at the foot of the stairs for Drew. The boy’s pants fit and his shirt was tucked in, but those were the only concessions he’d made for his court appearance.
“A suit and tie would be better,” his father said.
“I don’t have a suit.”
“You had one for your mother’s funeral.”
“It doesn’t fit anymore. I’m three inches taller.”
Once again Mitch was conscious of a sense of failure where his children were concerned. He didn’t even notice that Drew had outgrown his clothes. And what of Sarah? Girls always needed clothes. They loved to shop. And yet Sarah had never once asked him for money for clothing. “I’m sorry, Drew. The next time you need something, let me know.”
“Hey, Dad, it’s okay. No one wears suits anyway, except to—” He stopped before voicing it, the only time he’d needed a suit.
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