The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 3

by Nora Roberts

  Hardheaded, inflexible, territorial, David mused. It was going to be an interesting little battle. He glanced over to where Sophia entertained his children. Theo’s throbbing hormones were all but sending out bolts of sex-crazed red light. And that, David thought wearily, was going to be complicated.

  He strolled over, watched with approval as his daughter cut through a cane. “Good job. Thanks,” he said to Sophia.

  “My pleasure. I assume you’ll want to meet with me to be briefed on my promotional campaign plans. I’m setting up an office at the villa. Would this afternoon work for you? Maybe two o’clock.”

  Clever girl, he thought. Make the first move, establish turf. What a family. “Sure, that works for me. I’ll just get these two out of your hair.”

  “I want to see the rest,” Maddy said. “There’s nothing to do at home anyway. It’s boring.”

  “We haven’t finished unpacking.”

  “Are you in a hurry for that?” Sophia laid a hand on Maddy’s shoulder. “If you’re not you can leave Theo and Maddy with me. I have to go back to the villa in an hour or so, and I can drop them off. You’re in the guest house, right?”

  “That’s right.” He glanced at his watch. He had some time before his meeting. “If they’re not in the way.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you at two. You guys stay out of trouble.”

  “You’d think we look for it,” Maddy muttered under her breath.

  “If you don’t,” Sophia said as David walked away, “you’re not having enough fun.”

  She liked the kids. Maddy’s intense questioning was entertaining, and kept her on her toes. And it was sweet to find herself the object of a teenage boy’s crush-at-first-sight.

  Also, who knew more about a man, how he behaved, how he thought, how he planned, than his children? A morning with David Cutter’s teenagers would be interesting and, she believed, informative.

  “Let’s go drag Ty away,” Sophia suggested, “and make him take us through the winery. I’m not as familiar with MacMillan’s operation as I am with Giambelli’s.” She tucked her tool away. “We’ll all learn something.”

  Pilar paced the chambers of Judge Helen Moore and tried not to fret. Her life, she thought, seemed to be tumbling out of her control. She wasn’t at all sure how to grab it back. Worse, she was no longer sure how much of it she wanted to keep.

  Steps had to be taken, of that she was sure. She was so sick of feeling used and useless.

  Most of all, she needed a friend.

  She’d barely seen her mother or her daughter that morning. Purposely. It was cowardly, she supposed, to avoid those closest to her. But she needed time to shore up the damage, to make her decisions, to coat over the ridiculous hurt that still scraped inside her gut.

  Instinctively she reached down to toy with her wedding ring and felt the quick jolt when it wasn’t there. She’d have to get used to that naked finger. No, damned if she would. She was going to go out today, this afternoon, and buy some ridiculously expensive, knock-your-eyes-out bauble to go on the third finger of her left hand.

  A symbol, she told herself. Of freedom and new beginnings.

  Of failure.

  On a sigh of defeat, she dropped into a chair just as Helen rushed in.

  “Sorry, we ran a little over.”

  “It’s all right. You always look so distinguished and terrifying in your robes.”

  “If I ever lose this extra fifteen pounds, I’m going to start wearing a bikini under them.” She stripped the robe off, hung it up. Rather than a bikini, she wore a quiet brown suit.

  Too matronly, Pilar thought. Too boxy. And very Helen.

  “I really appreciate your making time for me today. I know how busy you are.”

  “We’ve got two hours.” Helen flopped into the chair behind her desk, pulled off her shoes and curled her toes. “Want to go out for lunch?”

  “Not really. Helen . . . I know you’re not a divorce lawyer, but—Tony’s moving to finalize things quickly. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I can handle it for you, Pilar. Or I can recommend someone. I know several sleek sharks who’d do the job.”

  “I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you handled it, and if it was kept as simple as possible. And as clean.”

  “Well, that’s disappointing.” With a frown, Helen pushed up her glasses. “I’d love to leave Tony bleeding from the ears. I’ll need your financial papers,” she began, pulling over a yellow legal pad for notes. “Fortunately, I browbeat you into separating your finances from his years ago. But we’re going to keep your ass covered. He may very well make demands, monetary ones, real estate and so on. You are not going to agree to anything.”

  She tipped down her glasses to stare at Pilar over the rims with a look that terrified lawyers. “I mean that, Pilar. He gets nothing. You are the injured party. He’s petitioning for the divorce. He wants to get remarried. He walks out with what he walked in with. I’m not going to allow you to let him profit from this. You got that?”

  “It’s not a matter of money.”

  “Not for you. But he lives high, and he’s going to want to continue living high. How much have you funneled to him over the last decade or so?”

  Pilar shifted uncomfortably. “Helen . . .”

  “Exactly. Loans that are never repaid. The house in San Francisco, the house in Italy. The furnishings in both.”

  “We sold—”

  “He sold,” Helen corrected. “You wouldn’t listen to me then, but you will now or you find another lawyer. You never recouped your fair share of the real estate, which your money paid for in the first place. And I know damn well he slid plenty of your jewelry and personal property into his pocket, too. That stops cold.”

  She pushed up her glasses, sat back. The gesture, the body language changed her from judge to friend. “Pilar, I love you, and that’s why I’m going to say this to you. You’ve let him treat you like a doormat. Hell, you all but stitched ‘Welcome’ on your tits and invited him to step all over you. And I, and others who love you, hated watching it.”

  “Maybe I did.” She wasn’t going to cry now; just absorb the fresh hurt. “I loved him, and part of me thought that if he needed me enough, he’d love me back. Something happened last night, and it’s changed things. Changed me, I suppose.”

  “Tell me.”

  Rising, Pilar wandered the office and told Helen of the phone call. “When I listened to him making those careless apologies, cutting me off to placate Rene after she’d attacked me, I was disgusted with all of us. And later, after I’d calmed down again, I realized something. I don’t love him anymore, Helen. Maybe I haven’t for years. That makes me pitiful.”

  “Not anymore, it doesn’t.” Helen picked up the phone. “Let’s order in. I’ll explain what needs to be done. Then, sweetie, we’re going to do it. Please.” She held out a hand. “Let me help you. Really help.”

  “Okay.” Pilar sighed. “Okay. Will it take more than an hour?”

  “Doesn’t have to. Carl? Order me two chicken clubs, with side salads, two cappuccinos and a big bottle of fizzy water. Thanks.” She hung up the phone.

  “Perfect.” Pilar sat again. “Is there a good, overpriced jeweler near here?”

  “As a matter of fact there is. Why?”

  “If you’ve got time before you have to don your robes again, you could help me buy something symbolic and gaudy.” She held up her left hand. “Something that’ll make Rene crazy when she sees it.”

  Helen nodded with approval. “Now we’re talking.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sunday slid into the week like a balm on a mild, nagging itch. She wouldn’t be spending her morning hours covered in wool and flannel and pruning vines. She wouldn’t have Ty breathing down her neck just waiting for her to make a mistake.

  She could drive into the city, do some power shopping, see people. She could remember what it was like to have a life.

  With this
in mind, Sophia considered calling one of her friends to set up a few hours of socializing. Then she decided she’d rather spend that frivolous time with her mother.

  Next free day, she decided, she’d make plans with friends. She’d spend a weekend in San Francisco, have a dinner party at her apartment, go to a club. Now she was going to nag her mother into taking a girl day.

  Sophia knocked briskly on her mother’s bedroom door, then pushed it open without waiting for an answer. She’d never had to wait for her mother.

  The bed was already made, the curtains open to the wavering sunlight. As Sophia stepped inside, Maria walked in from the adjoining bath.

  “Mama?”

  “Oh, long up and about. I think she’s in the greenhouse.”

  “I’ll find her.” Sophia stepped back, hesitated. “Maria, I’ve barely seen her all week. Is she all right?”

  Maria’s lips tightened as she fussed unnecessarily with the yellow roses on Pilar’s dresser. “She doesn’t sleep well. I can tell. Eats like a bird, and then only if you insist. I scolded her just yesterday, and she says it’s holiday stress. What stress?” Maria threw up her hands. “Your mama, she loves Christmas. It’s that man who troubles her. I won’t speak ill of your father, but if he makes my baby sick, he’ll answer to me.”

  “Get in line,” Sophia murmured. “We’ll look after her, Maria. I’ll hunt her down now.”

  “See that she eats!”

  Christmas, Sophia thought as she jogged downstairs. It was the perfect excuse. She’d ask her mother to give her a hand with some last-minute Christmas shopping.

  She scanned the house as she hurried through. Her mother’s poinsettias, red and white stars in dozens of silver pots, were mixed with miniature hollies in lush arrangements throughout the foyer. Fresh greenery twined with tiny white lights and glossy red ribbon swagged doorways.

  The three Giambelli angels were displayed on the long refectory table in the family parlor. Tereza, Pilar and Sophia, she thought, the carved faces reflecting each of them at the age of twelve.

  How alike they looked. It was always a little jolt, a little tug of amused pleasure to see them. The continuity, the undeniable blood tie of those three generations. She’d been thrilled when she was given her angel all those years ago. Thrilled to see her own features on the graceful, winged body. And, she realized as she trailed a fingertip over the trio, she was still.

  One day it would fall to her to commission an angel for a child of her own. What an odd thought, she mused. Not unpleasant, but certainly odd. The next generation, when the time came, was hers to begin.

  Measured by those who’d come before, she was falling a bit behind on that particular family duty. Then again, it wasn’t something she could pencil in on her monthly calendar. Fall in love. Get married. Conceive child.

  Nope, such things didn’t schedule neatly into a life. She imagined she’d enjoy those things with the right man at the right time. But it was so easy, too easy, to make a mistake. And love, marriage, children couldn’t be casually crossed off the slate like an inconvenient dentist appointment.

  Unless you were Anthony Avano, she corrected, annoying herself with the automatic snap of resentment that accompanied the thought. In that area she had no intention of following in her father’s footsteps. When she made the choice, and the promises that went with it, she would keep them.

  So for now, three angels would have to be enough.

  She turned to study the room. Candles in spears and chunks of silver and gold, more greenery artfully arranged. The grand tree, one of four that would traditionally stand in the villa, dripping with crystal garland, laden with precious ornaments brought over from Italy, stood regally by the windows. Presents were already tucked under it, and the house smelled of pine and candle wax.

  Time had gotten away from her, she thought guiltily. A great deal of it. Her mother, grandmother and the staff had worked like trojans to dress the house for the holidays while she’d buried herself in work.

  She should have taken the time, made the time to help. Didn’t put it on your appointment calendar, did you, Sophia? she thought with a wince. The annual Christmas party was nearly on them, and she’d done nothing to help with the planning or preparations.

  She’d amend that immediately.

  She went out the side door, instantly regretting she hadn’t stopped for a jacket, as the wind had a bite. As a result she ran down the winding stone path, cut left and sprinted to the greenhouse.

  The warm, moist heat felt so inviting. “Mama?”

  “Down here. Sophie, wait until you see my paperwhites. They’re spectacular. I think I’ll take them and the amaryllis into the parlor. Very festive.”

  Pilar stopped, looked up. “Where’s your jacket?”

  “Forgot.” Sophia leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek, then took a good, long look.

  Her mother’s ancient sweater was pushed up at the elbows and bagged at the hips. Her hair was tied back at the nape of her neck. “You’re losing weight.”

  “Oh, I am not.” Pilar waved that away with hands covered in stained gardening gloves. “You’ve been talking to Maria. If I don’t gorge myself three times a day she’s convinced I’m going to waste away. As it is, I stole two sugar cookies on the way out here and expect them to pop out on my hips any moment.”

  “That should hold you till lunch. Which I’ll buy. I’m so behind on my shopping. Help.”

  “Sophia.” With a shake of her head, Pilar shifted her long trough of narcissi and began to fuss with the tulips she was forcing. They would bloom, she thought, and bring color to the dreary days of winter. “You started your holiday shopping in June and finished it in October. Just as you always do to make the rest of us hate you.”

  “Okay, caught me.” Sophia boosted herself up on the work counter. “Still, I’m dying to go into the city and play for a few hours. It’s been a brutal week. Let’s run away for the day.”

  “I was just there a couple of days ago.” Frowning, Pilar set the tulips aside. “Sophie, is this new order of things your grandmother’s set up too much for you? You’re up at dawn every day, and then you spend hours in your office here. I know you’re not seeing any of your friends.”

  “I thrive on pressure. Still, I could use an assistant, and I believe you’re supposed to fit that bill.”

  “Cara, we both know I’d be useless to you.”

  “No, I don’t know that. Okay, we move to Plan B. I’m putting you to work. You’ve done all the decorating in the house and it looks beautiful, by the way. I’m sorry I didn’t help.”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “I shouldn’t have been too busy. But now it’s office time, and that’ll segue into party-planning time. You need to bring me up to date on that, which is part of an assistant’s duty. Now, which flowers do you want to take in? I’ll help you with them, then we start the clock.”

  The girl, Pilar thought, made the head spin. “Sophie, really.”

  “Yes, really. You’re the trainee. I’m the boss.” She scooted off the counter, rubbed her hands together. “I get to make up for all the years you bossed me around. Especially between the ages of twelve and fifteen.”

  “No, not the hormone years. You couldn’t be so cruel.”

  “Bet me. You asked if this new system was too much for me. It’s not. But it’s damn close. That’s a fact. I’m not used to doing all my own filing and phone tags and typing. Since I’m not about to admit to Nonna, or to MacMillan, that I’m feeling the least bit squeezed, you could help me out.”

  Pilar blew out a breath, tugged off her gloves. “You’re doing this to keep me busy, just as Maria hounds me to eat.”

  “Partially,” Sophia admitted. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I spend time every day doing basic office work. If I could pass that over, I might actually begin to date again in this decade. I miss men.”

  “All right, but don’t blame me if you can’t find anything in your files.” Pilar pulle
d the thin band out of her hair, scooped her fingers through it. “I haven’t done basic office work since I was sixteen, and then I was so miserable at it, Mama fired me.”

  She turned, started to laugh, then noticed Sophia was gawking at her hand.

  Embarrassed, Pilar nearly stuck her hand, and the five-carat square-cut ruby on her finger, behind her back. “It’s a little much, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. I think I’ve been struck blind by the glare.” Sophia took her mother’s hand, examined the stone and the stunning channel-set diamonds around the square. “Wow. Magnifico.”

  “I wanted something. I should have told you. You’ve been so busy. . . . Damn it.” Pilar tried to explain. “I’ve used your schedule to avoid talking to you. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize to me for buying a ring, Mama. Except I believe that one might be considered a small monument.”

  “I was angry. You should never do anything when you’re angry.” To give herself something to do, Pilar picked up her gardening tools, began to replace them. “Baby, Helen is handling the divorce for me. I should’ve—”

  “Good. She won’t let you get scalped. Don’t look at me like that, Mama. You’ve been careful, all my life you’ve been careful never to speak against my father. But I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid.”

  “No.” Overcome by sadness, Pilar set her little trowel aside. “No, you’ve never been either.” And had seen, had understood so much more than a child should.

  “If you let him, he’d take your money and anything else that wasn’t nailed down. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. I feel better knowing Aunt Helen’s looking out for your interests. Now let’s get these flowers into the house.”

  “Sophie.” Pilar laid a hand on her daughter’s arm as Sophia picked up a pot of amaryllis. “I’m so sorry this hurts you.”

  “You’ve never hurt me. He always has. I don’t suppose he can help that, either.” She picked up a second pot. “Rene’s going to swallow her tongue when she gets a load of that rock.”

  “I know. That was the idea.”