One True Love

by Barbara Freethy

  "That's the problem. I have a feeling I might ask you to," she said with complete honesty.

  He smiled. "You're a lousy flirt."

  "I haven't had a lot of practice." She paused. "Jeremy, I haven't been single in a very long time. I don't know how to date, or how to play the games that men and women play these days. I don't mean those kind of games," she quickly amended as he began to grin.

  "Too bad."

  "I'm serious," she said, with a gentle slap on his arm.

  "Far too serious." He drew a line down her cheek with his finger. "Just relax. This isn't a movie. You don't have to remember your lines. You don't have to be someone you're not. Just be you."

  She tried one last argument. "Jeremy, if Keith is alive, I don't know what I'll do."

  "Why don't we leave that for when it happens, if it happens?" He walked over to the phone. "I'll call the airport and check the flights. I assume you want to leave as soon as possible."

  "Yes."

  He picked up the phone, then paused. "Shall I make the reservation for Crystal -- or someone else?"

  Chapter Eleven

  When Lisa and Nick returned to Maggie's house with a carful of weary children and a droopy dog, they found Silvia and Lisa's great-aunt Carmela waiting on the porch. Silvia was dressed like a rainbow, in a long red skirt and a bright white peasant blouse that set off the trio of necklaces she wore around her neck. Carmela, Silvia's aunt, went to the other extreme of dress, a long-sleeve black knit dress that hung loosely on her thin frame and touched the tops of a pair of serviceable black leather shoes. Men's shoes, Lisa thought, both pleased and bothered by the familiar sight.

  "Looks like we have company," Nick said with a wry smile.

  "Looks like."

  Nick turned off the engine. "What do you think they want?"

  "Probably a big black cauldron and some rat's toes or something like that."

  "Rat's toes?" Dylan echoed in amazement.

  "A very important ingredient in magic potions," Nick said solemnly.

  "Cool," Dylan replied.

  "I am not having anything to do with some diseased, disgusting little rat," Roxy declared.

  "I like mice," Mary Bea added. "They're not cooking a mouse, are they?"

  "No. No. It was a joke," Lisa explained.

  Nick laughed as Lisa tried to work her way out of her impulsive comment.

  "I was kidding," she added, "Why don't you three go on up and say hello? Nick and I will be right there."

  "Grandma Silvia says your great-aunt Carmela makes magic," Dylan said, as he slid out of the car.

  "Can she pull a rabbit out of a hat?" Mary Bea asked.

  "She can't pull much of anything out of anything," Lisa replied. "But be nice to her. She's old."

  "She's also scary," Nick muttered as Mary Bea joined her brother and sister on the porch. "I'm going to drop you off, I have some work to do. I'll be back later."

  "Chicken."

  "Hey, she threatened to curse me into eternity when you left. Or turn me into a toad."

  "That might have been an improvement."

  "Ha. Ha."

  Lisa smiled. "You don't really believe she could turn you into a toad, do you? This is a woman who still hand-washes her clothes because she can't figure out how to use her washing machine."

  "I don't feel like taking any chances. She always looks at me like she knows something I don't."

  Lisa looked at the two women sitting on the porch, who were a big part of her family. Her grandparents had died when she was a child. Silvia's brother had returned to Mexico shortly after he married, and Silvia's sister had followed her army husband to Texas, leaving Silvia, Carmela and Lisa were pretty much on their own in San Diego. They had shared a town house, and Carmela had often watched Lisa when she was a child, allowing Silvia to work.

  Although Lisa knew that both her mother and Carmela loved her, she had always felt out of place with them. Her mother was flamboyant, loud and gregarious, while Carmela was mysterious, dark and moody. Lisa had never known what to expect upon entering her home.

  As a child she'd been deeply embarrassed by her family. She'd never brought anyone home, because she'd always felt so different, not just because she didn't have a father, although that was part of it, but because Silvia and Carmela could be so odd.

  Of course, Maggie and Nick and the whole Maddux family had found Silvia and even Carmela at times to be delightful. Or at least they'd always pretended to think that way. Maybe it had been for her benefit.

  Lisa glanced at Nick, who also seemed lost in thought. Then he turned his head and caught her eye. "What did you do with the bracelet?" he asked abruptly.

  "It's in my purse. Why?"

  "I never would have believed the bracelet would bring you home." He shook his head. "Yet here you are."

  "I came because of Maggie, not because of the bracelet."

  "Yeah. But why did Maggie leave so suddenly? Why did she call you? She has other friends in town she could have asked. Hell, she could have asked me."

  "I think she tried. You weren't home. The bracelet is just a bracelet, Nick. If it was magic, do you really think our baby would have died?''

  Nick didn't have an answer to that.

  "I better say hello." Lisa got out of the car but hesitated before shutting the door. "Are you sure you have to go?"

  "Yeah, I'll catch up with you later. I need to check out some things at my store."

  "It can't wait until tomorrow?" She felt like a complete coward, but she could see from here that Carmela was in one of her intense moods. In fact, she hadn't stopped staring at the car since they'd pulled in the driveway.

  Nick raised an eyebrow. "You actually want me to spend more time with you?"

  "Not with me, with the kids and my mother and my aunt."

  "So you don't need me at all?"

  "Me? Of course not."

  "Liar." He smiled wickedly. "If you'd told me the truth, I would have stayed." He leaned over, pulled her door shut and backed out of the driveway.

  Great. He was leaving again. She was getting damn tired of watching him leave.

  "Lisa. Lisa," her mother waved. "Come on up. I have some interesting news to tell you."

  Lisa walked slowly up to the house, wishing the children hadn't already disappeared inside. She had a feeling that whatever reason had brought Silvia and her aunt to the house was not going to be to her liking. Still, she dutifully kissed her aunt on the cheek. "Hello, Aunt Carmela. How are you?"

  The elderly woman studied her in silence. Lisa tried to stare back without feeling intimidated, but Aunt Carmela, with her black hair, black eyes and long pointed nose, had always reminded her of the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz.

  "Carmela," Silvia encouraged. "Tell Lisa your news."

  Carmela hesitated. Then she pointed to the tree at the side of the yard. A small bird hopped along one branch as if called forth by some secret call. A robin. Another damn robin.

  "I know, the birds are back," Lisa said. "But that has nothing to do with anything." She took a deep breath. "I'm getting married in less than a month, Aunt Carmela. You have to accept that. So do you, Mother," she added pointedly.

  Carmela shook her head, her hand shaky as she reached up to stroke the crystal she wore around her neck. "You came home. You should not have done that if you wished to marry someone else."

  "I came home because my friend needed a break."

  Carmela's eyes appeared even more troubled. "Your friend, Margaret. She -- she is confused."

  Lisa felt a tingle run down her spine in spite of her disbelief in Carmela's predictions. "What do you mean?"

  "She is embarking on a journey--"

  "She's coming back this afternoon."

  "No. She will not be back for a while. And she may not come back alone."

  "Who? What?" Lisa shook her head. She couldn't believe she was getting sucked into her great-aunt's mystical world. "Never mind. I don't want to know. I'm sure Maggie will c
ome home as soon as she can."

  "I'm not sure if she will even make the celebration," Carmela continued.

  "What celebration?" Lisa asked suspiciously, trying to catch her mother's gaze, but her mother seemed more interested in plucking a piece of lint off her skirt.

  Carmela leaned heavily on the cane that had been her constant companion for more than thirty years. Lisa was never quite sure if she really needed it to walk, or if she used it more as a prop. But it would have been disrespectful to do anything but put a hand out to steady Carmela as she adjusted her weight.

  "Dia de los Muertos -- the celebration of the dead,'' Carmela said finally.

  "That's in November," she said, stiffening.

  "No, we have a special day for Robin, the anniversary of her death. Next Sunday, it will be eight years."

  "No, absolutely not." Lisa was horrified by the thought of celebrating her baby's death. She knew all about Dia de los Muertos. She'd celebrated the holy day many times with her mother and her aunt, but it had never meant anything to her. She had never known the people who had died. This would be different. This would hurt.

  "It is necessary to honor those who have gone before us. You have missed the other celebrations, but you are here now. You will stay." Carmela's voice allowed no argument.

  Lisa looked at her mother, finding at least compassion in Silvia's eyes. "I can't."

  "We just talk about her, Lisa, about who she was--" Silvia began.

  "Who she was?" Lisa asked incredulously. "She wasn't anybody. She died before she had a chance to be anything. What on earth is there to talk about?"

  "Her smile. The sounds she made. What made her happy. The little things. Then we talk about our family, about those who have also passed on, who are with her now. It can be very comforting. I know when my grandmother died, I found it to be a lovely tribute."

  All Lisa could think about was the pain the memories would bring. And what was the point? It wouldn't change anything. She simply couldn't do it. "I won't be here next Sunday. I have to go back to work as soon as Maggie returns."

  "Don't you think it's odd that Maggie called you this weekend, so close to the anniversary of Robin's death?" Silvia asked.

  "It's a coincidence."

  "And the robins have come back to San Diego this weekend," Silvia added.

  "Another coincidence. It is spring."

  "Open your eyes before it is too late," Carmela said.

  "It's already too late. It has been for a long time."

  Silvia pursed her lips. "You are so stubborn. But come, let us go inside. Carmela and I will cook for you and the children and for Nick. He will be back, si?"

  "I don't know what his plans are."

  Silvia smiled. "He can be as stubborn as you."

  "We must talk about the celebration," Carmela added, ignoring Lisa's previous statement.

  "Maybe later. I have to get some -- some milk," Lisa said. "Since you're both here, maybe you could watch the kids for awhile." She turned to her mother. "Can I borrow your car? Mine doesn't seem to be working."

  "Because you are not meant to leave," Carmela said quietly.

  "Because it has a dead battery," Lisa corrected. "I don't believe what you believe. Please, try to understand that."

  Carmela shrugged. "Because you don't believe does not make it false."

  Silvia pressed her car keys into Lisa's hand. "Take as long as you need. We'll watch the children for you." She turned to her aunt. "Come, Carmela. It's getting chilly out here."

  Lisa hurried to her mother's car and slipped into the driver's seat. It wasn't until she opened her hand to insert the key that she saw the piece of paper tucked into her palm -- the address her mother had given her earlier, wrapped around yet another key.

  * * *

  Raymond drove through the busy streets of Westwood, a trendy shopping area near the UCLA campus and high-priced neighborhoods of Bel Air, Beverly Hills and Pacific Palisades. It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, with not a trace of fog or L.A. smog. Unfortunately, he wasn't in the mood to enjoy the weather.

  Beverly was trying to seduce Monty Friedman and his million dollar account right out from under him. He could not allow that to happen, which was why he was spending the afternoon looking for a parking spot instead of relaxing.

  One of his account executives had just called him from Duke's, a popular sports bar, to inform him that Beverly was having lunch with Monty, and they were planning to watch the basketball play-offs on the big-screen television.

  Raymond knew Monty was a sports nut. He just hadn't acted on it. Trust Beverly to find the man's passion and milk it for all it was worth, which might be a lot in this case. He could not lose Monty Friedman's account to Beverly, and it wasn't just because of the money. His pride and his reputation were also at stake. He'd already lost one smaller account to Beverly earlier in the year. He couldn't afford another to go her way, not if he didn't want to make his other clients nervous.

  The industry magazines would be announcing the competition for Nature Brand in Monday's issue. He'd already been interviewed by one reporter who had somehow dug up information on every account they had ever lost. The reporter had speculated that Raymond had lost his touch. He had tried to be patient and calm, to act unconcerned, but deep down he felt stressed and edgy, nervous about the ground that seemed to be slipping beneath his feet.

  He wished again that Elisabeth had not chosen this particular time to go away. He needed her at his side, and dammit if she shouldn't be there. Her loyalty should be to him, not some friend she hadn't seen since high school.

  He sighed as he finally located a parking spot and managed to pull in before anyone else could steal it from him. Then he picked up his cellular phone and punched in the number Elisabeth had given him.

  After two rings, a woman answered the phone. "Hola.''

  "Hello. This is Raymond Curtis. Is Elisabeth there?"

  "Hello, Raymond. This is Silvia. I'm sorry, but Elisabeth is out. Can I take a message?"

  "Actually, I was wondering what time to expect her back in town. I thought she might have left by now."

  "I'm afraid not. Maggie isn't home yet. I'll have Lisa call you."

  Although Silvia was outwardly pleasant, Raymond didn't sense he had a supporter in Elisabeth's mother. He didn't know why she'd taken such a dislike to him. Maybe the age gap, he decided, "Do you know when her friend will be back?" he asked, determined not to let Silvia off the phone without getting more information,

  "I don't think Maggie will be returning until tomorrow at the earliest."

  "Tomorrow?" His gut tightened, and he felt a surge of anger. "This is ridiculous. Elisabeth and I are working on a big account. I need her here."

  Silvia didn't say anything, and Raymond realized he was not helping his case. "And of course, the wedding's coming up in just a few weeks," he added, "I'm sure Elisabeth has told you all about it." Raymond hated the silence that followed his words. Something was wrong; he could feel it. "You will be coming to the wedding, won't you?"

  "Of course, I love my daughter."

  Now why did that sound like an accusation? "So do I."

  "Good. You shouldn't marry someone unless you love them."

  "That's true." He cleared his throat. "Uh, by the way, Elisabeth showed me the bracelet you sent her to wear on her wedding day -- something old, she said, something you'd always treasured."

  Silvia laughed, but it sounded more sad than happy. "Is that what she told you?"

  "It's not true?"

  "The bracelet never belonged to me, Raymond. It's Lisa's."

  His stomach turned over. Why would Elisabeth have a bracelet with a pair of baby shoes on it? But he couldn't ask Silvia. He couldn't let on that he seemed to know less and less about Elisabeth each second that passed. She'd only been gone two days, but it felt like longer.

  "I have to go." He would save his questions for Elisabeth. "Please have Elisabeth call me as soon as she can."

  "I'll tell her
."

  Raymond closed his phone, disturbed by their conversation. He told himself it was silly to worry about a bracelet. It was nothing. Lisa hadn't been eager to wear it. In fact, she'd looked at it like she hated it. Silvia was just trying to make trouble. And he didn't have time to worry about her right now. He had another troublemaker to deal with -- Beverly.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lisa stared at the address on the sign. She checked the number. It was the same as the one on the slip of paper her mother had given her. On the other side of the chain-link fence was a series of low buildings, each with a number. The sign over one building read STORAGE.

  Storage? Lisa suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Did she really want to know what was behind Number 134? Part of her wanted to run, another part of her wanted to know what was behind that door. When a car pulled up behind her and honked impatiently, she had no choice but to pull inside. She drove down the rows until she found her number. Then she stopped the car and sat there for a long moment.

  She'd told Nick to get rid of their things. She'd seen nothing at his house. Was it here? Was it all here? The furniture, the memories? Oh God! What if the crib was inside? Had he kept the crib? The stuffed animals?

  Her heart began to race. Her palms turned sweaty against the steering wheel. She tried to breathe, to think rationally. Nick wouldn't have kept all those things. Not for all these years. She had to see. She knew she couldn't leave without opening up the door and looking inside.

  It took her a few moments of awkward fumbling to get out of the car and insert the key into the padlock. Finally, the door swung open. At first everything was dark. She could only make out shapes and shadows that looked like monsters -- big, scary monsters from her past that wanted to suck her into the darkness and slam the door behind her.

  Frantically, Lisa searched for a switch on the wall. Upon finding it, she flooded the room with welcome light. Actually, the light wasn't much, just a dim bulb hanging from a wire, but it was better than the darkness, and with the sunlight coming in from the street, she could see the furniture more clearly.

  It took her only a moment to realize it was all there, the crib, the changing table, the high chair, the stroller, the pink and white lacy curtains that she'd painstakingly sewed, feeling she wouldn't be the perfect new mother if she didn't personally make the nest in which her baby would sleep.