She gave up. Maybe it would be better to speak to Antonio. Carly would have a fit, but Rachel wasn't about to let some playboy break her sister's heart. Although, Carly wasn't nearly as small town as she was. Carly was more like their mother, destined to want adventure, to roam the world. She didn't understand that kind of thinking. Home was where the heart was. If you moved around all the time, what kind of a heart could you have? What sort of roots could you set down?
"I better get dressed," Carly said.
"Are you planning to do any work today?"
"I'll be down to the office later. I have some things to do."
Rachel frowned. "What kind of things? Where do you go? What do you do every day?"
"What do you mean?" Carly asked evasively.
"I mean that I seem to be seeing less and less of you. And despite the fact that you dropped two classes this semester, you appear to be busier than you were before you did that."
Carly shrugged. "I still have to study and go to the library. You're the one who hasn't been around much, Rachel. You're always working. If you weren't, you'd see more of me."
She didn't quite buy that explanation, but it was obviously the best one she would get this morning. "Well, stop in at the office later on. We still need to discuss the schedule for the Harvest Festival and the second picking."
"I don't know why we're bothering to pick. There won't be anywhere to ship the apples with all the plants closing down. We need to change, Rachel. We need to plant grapes, start a vineyard."
"This is an apple farm. It's been an apple farm for over a hundred years."
"The prices for wine grapes are going up, while the prices for apples are going down, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out we're in the wrong business."
Rachel shook her head. She'd been hearing the same arguments at the local growers' meetings. Even her grandmother had dared to bring up the subject. But Rachel and her grandfather were firm on the fact that theirs was an apple farm, not a vineyard. Unfortunately, the rest of the family was not so convinced. Even some of her younger cousins were starting to mutter. She'd had to find other ways to make the farm profitable.
The gift shop was beginning to make money with the offering of homemade apple butter, jellies and crisps. And recently, they'd begun offering tours of the farm and picnic lunches down by the creek on the weekends. She needed to update their website and use the Internet to build up their business, but there were only so many hours in the day.
"I'm done, Mommy," Wesley said, bringing his plate to the sink.
"Thanks, honey. Brush your teeth and get your backpack. The school bus won't wait for you."
"What are you and Dylan doing today?" Carly asked after Wesley had left the room.
"There is no me and Dylan," Rachel snapped.
Carly raised an eyebrow. "Look who's touchy now."
"Dylan wants to look at the plans for the house. He's coming by sometime today to get them."
"Your dream house," Carly said with a compassionate tilt of her head. "Not much left of the dream, is there?"
Rachel shook her head.
"Maybe you should tear it down."
"I've thought about it, but I can't. Wesley wants it so badly. It seems to be all he has left to hold on to."
"Won't it feel wrong to live there without Gary?"
"Yes. But it feels wrong to live here without him."
"Is it? You grew up here. You lived a lot of years here without him. In fact, you lived a lot of days here without him in the last couple of years."
"He was home plenty of times," Rachel said defensively.
"He was on the road every other week."
"It wasn't that much."
"Of course it was that much. I was here, too. I saw you sitting on the porch all by your lonesome, looking out into the sunset."
"Gary had business. He provided for us with that business. He had to travel."
"I'm not criticizing him, Rachel, but he wasn't a saint. And you weren't always happy."
"I was happy," she said fiercely. "I was madly in love with Gary, and he was in love with me. Don't you ever say otherwise."
"I didn't mean to upset you."
"I have to believe in him," she said, feeling a sense of desperation. "It's all I have left."
"Maybe you should forget about the insurance money, go on with your life, and stop asking questions that you really don't want the answers to."
"I want the answers. I just want them to be the right answers."
The phone on the kitchen wall rang and she was grateful for the interruption. She picked up the receiver and said, "Hello."
"Rachel?"
Dylan's voice was not the one she wanted to hear. "Yes."
"Can I come by and look at the plans?"
"I'll bring them down to the house," she told him. "Then you can compare the plans to what's been done already."
"All right. When?"
"A half hour? I have to get Wesley off to school."
"I'll meet you there."
"Okay." Rachel hung up and saw Carly watching her. "Do you need something?"
"No. I just can't figure out why you seem so nervous."
"I am not nervous. I'm a lot of other things, but nervous isn't one of them." But she was lying, Rachel realized. She was nervous about seeing Dylan, about building her house, going on without Gary, finding out things she didn't want to find out.
"You're shaking in your shoes," Carly observed quietly, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Is Dylan bothering you in some way? Is he trying to take advantage -- "
"No! Of course not," she said quickly, aware that her sister was veering off in a direction she definitely did not want her to take. "He just makes me uncomfortable because of his relationship with Gary.""Gary told me once that Dylan was the brother he never had."
She nodded. "I think that's the way Dylan felt about Gary."
"They probably shared a lot of things, a lot of secrets."
"Don't say that word. And don't give me that look."
"You asked Dylan to help you find out what happened. Instead he's here building a house. How is that helping you get to the truth?"
"I'll get to it eventually. I still have boxes to go through and other people to talk to."
"What other people?"
"I don't know -- other people. Just let it alone, Carly."
"Fine, I'll let it alone. What do I know? I'm just your baby sister. I couldn't help you in any way. It's not like I'm smart or anything."
She sighed, knowing she'd hurt Carly's feelings. "This isn't about you."
"No, it's not about me. It's probably about someone named Laura, someone who called Gary here a bunch of times in the weeks before he died, someone he didn't want you to know about."
Rachel's jaw dropped open. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"I thought you didn't need my help," Carly said.
"Are you making this up because I offended you in some way?" A chill skimmed up Rachel's arms, raising goose bumps.
For a second Carly hesitated, guilt flashing in her eyes, then she shook her head. "No, I'm not making it up. I heard Gary talking on the phone to someone named Laura. She'd called a couple of times when he was in the city. I finally gave her his apartment number because she said it was important. When I asked Gary who she was, he said she was a business associate."
"Then that's who she was."
"A business associate who didn't know his office number, or the firm he worked for?"
Rachel swallowed hard. "Why didn't you say something to me?"
"Because Gary told me she didn't have anything to do with you, and I believed him. After he died, I forgot all about it, until I overheard you talking to Grandma about the insurance problems."
Rachel's stomach turned over. Who was Laura -- a client -- or someone else, someone who had had a more personal relationship with him? Maybe the person who'd left a perfume bottle in his apartment? She moved toward the table and sat down in a cha
ir, needing something sturdy beneath her. "You should have told me before."
Carly sighed. "I shouldn't have told you now. But it drives me nuts that you won't even consider the fact that I could help you find out what happened."
"I know what happened. Gary ran his car off the road in an accident. And this Laura was no one important." Rachel bit down on her bottom lip as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
"I'm ready," Wesley announced from the doorway, wearing his backpack. His eyes grew worried as he took in her expression. "Mommy, are you okay?"
"She's just tired," Carly answered for her. "How about I take you down to the bus stop?"
"Okay. Bye, Mommy."
"Bye, Wes. Give me a kiss first." Wesley ran over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. It almost undid her, but she managed to hold herself together until he'd left the room.
Carly paused in the doorway. "I'm sorry, Rachel. Sorry if I made things worse."
Carly didn't wait for an answer, which was good, because Rachel didn't feel in the mood to give one. Not that it was right to take out her anger on Carly. It wasn't her sister's fault that some woman had called Gary, not that it meant anything. Gary had women clients and female friends. So what?
She heard the front door close and got to her feet. She had to get dressed and meet Dylan. She didn't have time to worry about a few mysterious phone calls. But as she walked out of the kitchen and down the hall, she found herself going into the study, past the desk and straight to the filing cabinet. Inside the top drawer was a folder marked "Phone Bills." She removed it, then paused.
She had a feeling she was about to open Pandora's box. And once it was open, would she ever be able to get it closed? But it wasn't like she had to do anything. Just looking wouldn't hurt, would it?
* * *
It hurt just to look at the damn house, to think about the man who had dreamed it up, about the family who would never live here together. Dylan leaned against his car. He'd seen a lot of buildings in his time, but none that affected him as deeply as this one did.
Dylan had once lived in a house like this one – before Jesse died, before his mother's second marriage. After that they'd moved into an apartment building in San Francisco. His stepfather had three girls of his own, one only two years old. The apartment had three bedrooms. His mother and stepfather took one room, the two older girls had another and the baby had the third. He had slept on a cot in the baby's room for a couple of years. Then he'd moved onto a pullout couch in the living room. They'd never made a room for him. Boys could sleep anywhere, his mother always said. They didn't need nearly as many things as girls.
Gary had lived a few streets over in another apartment building. His had been more run-down, with peeling paint on the walls, cockroaches in the hall and a cigarette smell that never went away. They'd spent most of their time together outside on their skateboards. They'd gone all over the city. Sometimes when they'd cruised through the richer neighborhoods and looked at the tall, stately houses, they'd peek in the windows and wonder what it would be like to live in such places.
Dylan shook his head at the memories. He'd been so good at forgetting. Now it was all coming back. He straightened up and looked around, wondering where the hell Rachel was. It was almost an hour since he'd spoken to her. He didn't want to stand here thinking about the past; he wanted to get going, study the plans, figure out what he wanted to do himself and what he wanted to hire out.
His cell phone rang and he opened it, relieved by the distraction. "Hello?"
"Dylan? Mike Connolly. How are you?"
"Good. Thanks for calling me back."
"No problem. You wanted to ask me something about Gary?"
"Right." Dylan paused, not sure exactly how to broach the subject. Mike was an architect at Gary's firm. If Gary had gone to a bachelor party in Lake Tahoe for an associate, Mike would have been invited. But Dylan didn't want to share any suspicions with Mike. He had to be careful or rumors would be flying. "I'm going to help Rachel finish the house that Gary started to build for them," he said.
Mike let out a low whistle. "The house. I'd forgotten about that. It wasn't completed, huh?"
"No, just the framing. I wondered if Gary had left anything at the office on the project."
"I think his assistant boxed everything up and shipped it to Rachel right after the funeral."
"I'll check with Rachel, then. By the way, she mentioned that Gary had gone to Tahoe for a bachelor party. So who got married -- Jacob?"
Mike laughed. "No way. Jacob likes to play the field."
"Following in your footsteps, huh?"
"He's a smart man. What can I say?" Mike paused. "But Gary had told me he was going to Tahoe to meet an old friend."
An old friend? Those were the same words Connie had used. Why hadn't Gary told him about an old friend? And who was this person? It would have to be someone Dylan knew. An old girlfriend, maybe? There had been dozens in high school and college. Where would he even start?
"Did Gary happen to mention a name? I'm just curious."
"I don't remember if he did, but I got the feeling it was a woman. Don't tell Rachel I said that," he added quickly.
"Why? Was something going on?"
"No, I'm sure not," Mike denied. "Look, I gotta run. Anything else?"
"No, thanks."
"Give me a call when you're done house building. We'll have a drink."
"Sure." Dylan ended the call with an uneasy feeling in his gut. Who the hell had Gary gone to see in Tahoe? If he could figure that out, the rest of the story would follow.
His chest tightened when he saw Rachel's minivan turn into the driveway and come up the hill. He wondered if he should tell her about the supposed "old friend" in Gary's life. But he didn't know anything specific, and until he did, he should probably keep the information to himself.
"Hi," Rachel said as she got out of the van. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a light blue t-shirt, she looked both cool and casual. She handed him a cardboard cylinder. "The plans are in here."
"Thanks. Let's take a look."
"In a second," she replied.
He saw the worry in her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"Nothing?"
"Well, probably nothing. Oh, damn Carly anyway!"
"Carly? What did she do?"
"She told me Gary had phone calls from some woman named Laura. Do you know who she was talking about?"
"Laura? I don't think so," he said slowly. "I can't think of anyone off the top of my head."
"Neither can I. But after I spoke to Carly, I looked through the phone bills and saw some numbers I didn't recognize."
Dylan tensed. "Did you call any of them?"
"Not yet. I couldn't quite bring myself to do it."
"Any cities stand out?"
"There were a bunch -- Las Vegas, New York, Los Angeles, Reno, maybe others. I scanned the numbers quickly."
"Reno?" He jumped on that one. Reno was only thirty minutes from Lake Tahoe. Maybe there was a connection there. "What about Tahoe?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No, but I don't have the bills for Gary's cell phone; those were paid by his firm. I'm sure the calls are all reasonable and innocent."
"Probably," he agreed.
"I didn't realize Gary knew so many people in so many different places."
"His business took him all over the country."
"Yes." She paused. "I can't stop thinking about the perfume bottle in Gary's apartment."
"Rachel –"
"I know, the perfume might not mean anything. But when I put it together with phone calls from someone named Laura, a woman Gary never mentioned to me, I get a bad feeling. I didn't think Gary had secrets from me, but it appears that he did."
"You don't know that. Maybe the calls just weren't important enough to mention."
"Maybe. I can't do this, Dylan. I can't question every little thing. I'll go crazy. I am going crazy.
" She bit down on her bottom lip, struggling to hang on to her composure.
He dug his hands into his pockets, struggling against his instinct to offer comfort.
They both lost the battle.
Rachel burst into tears and he reached for her, drawing her against his chest. "It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay."
She cried a river of tears that streamed down her cheeks and soaked through his shirt. She hung on to him like he was the only buoy in a raging sea, and he couldn't have let her go even if he wanted to.
"God, I'm sorry," she sniffed as the sobs finally began to lessen. She pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't know why I keep crying. I'm usually pretty controlled."
"You're entitled. It's been a long six months, hasn't it?"
"Yes. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday that I saw him, and other times it feels like a million years ago. But crying won't bring him back or help me get to the truth. I shouldn't be wasting my time with tears."
"It's not always a waste. If you keep everything inside, it will eat you alive."
She sent him a startled look. "What did you say?"
"It's not a waste of time."
"Not that, the other part. Gary used to say that. If you keep everything inside, it will eat you alive."
No wonder the words had come so easily to him. "You're right. He said that to me, more than a few times."
"Because you keep it all in. That's what Gary said. You swallow your problems whole and have indigestion for a week."
"He said that about me?" For the first time, he wondered what else Gary had shared about him. He'd never really considered that he might have been a part of their conversations, their lives.
She nodded. "Was he right?"
"Partly. But I don't get indigestion; I get insomnia. I haven't had a good night's sleep in ten years. As soon as I lie down, my brain goes into overdrive. Everything I pushed to the back of my mind during the day comes rushing out, demanding attention."
"Gary could fall asleep in about three seconds. It didn't matter what time of day. If he wanted a nap, he'd lie down and take a nap, just like that. He never lost sleep over anything. He didn't worry. He didn't sweat the small stuff. Not like me. Anyway…" She picked up the cylinder that had slipped to the ground. "We got off track. Here are the plans. You should take a look at them."
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