by Mary Campisi
“Swing. Weeeeee!” Sara ran up, hugged Elise’s legs. She bent down and scooped the little girl in her arms. She had her father’s brown eyes… and his chin…
“Not now, children,” Stella said, lifting Sara out of Elise’s arms. “Elise and I have to talk. Why don’t you two go outside and play?”
“Can I push Sara on the tire swing?”
“Can you be careful? Very careful?”
Kevin nodded his dark head, mouth flat, unsmiling, reminding her of his father in miniature. “I’m always careful, Grandma.”
Stella ruffled his crew cut, smiled. “Then off with the two of you. I’ll bring out your ice cream sandwiches in a little while.” When the screen door banged behind Kevin and Sara, she turned and said to Elise, “Sit down, child. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Elise pulled out a chair, sat down at the kitchen table, bit the inside of her cheek, blinked hard.
“Cry, cry if you need to.” The older woman reached out, took her hand.
“I… I… it’s awful.” Tears slid down her face. “I did something really awful a little while ago, Stella.”
“Elise Pentani, I’ve known you your whole life, known your father and your mother, God rest her soul. I don’t think you’re capable of doing anything ‘really awful.’”
“I…”—she sniffed—“I did. Michael…”
“Oh, I see,” she nodded, heaved a sigh. “Finally. This is about Michael.”
“I thought I’d bring some food for the kids. Nick said you were going to Gracie’s so I figured Michael would have them. Anyway, I got a box of their favorites together, ham and cheese croissants, cream puffs, juice boxes, and I went to deliver it.” Her lip started to quiver. “I didn’t think… I thought Kevin and Sara would be there… not Cynthia Collichetti.”
“Oh, I see.”
Elise hung her head, let a heavy drape of hair fall in front of her face. “That’s not the worst of it. I went and confronted Michael about it. Told him he was hiding behind his irresponsible behavior because he’s really afraid of making mistakes and… and commitment.”
“I’ll bet he didn’t like that much.” There was humor in Stella’s voice.
“Not at all. He told me… to… to…”
“Michael has a very colorful vocabulary. I can imagine what he said.”
Elise looked up, met the older woman’s kind gaze. “But I told him the same thing, Stella. I can’t believe I said some of the things I did, but he made me so mad, I just couldn’t control it. No, I didn’t want to control it, I wanted to say those things, I wanted to hurt him.” Her shoulders sagged. “What’s wrong with me? I’m a horrible, horrible person.”
“No, I’d say you’re a normal person with normal human emotions. You were mad, you lashed out.”
“But what I said…”
“I love my son, but I’m sure he deserved it.”
Elise shrugged. “I shouldn’t have stooped to his level. He was just trying to scare me away. You know, Michael is more hot air than anything else. I mean, I think underneath, all the tough guy stuff, is a decent person. I think it’s just an act… and I told him so.”
“Well, he wouldn’t like that. He doesn’t want to hear it from his mother or his brother, so I’m sure he wouldn’t take too kindly to hearing it from someone outside the family.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“But you told him anyway.” Her lips curved upward in a hint of a smile.
“I couldn’t help myself, he made me so angry.”
Stella nodded, patted her hand. “Emotion, girl, honest emotion. You know, sometimes love and hate aren’t really that different from each other.”
“What?” What did love have to do with Michael Androvich?
“Well, both love and hate are very strong emotions, and sometimes people get confused between the two. They start out with this intense dislike, hate, if you will, and somewhere along the line it changes, and grows into another intense emotion, like love.”
“Stella, I am not in love with Michael.”
“I didn’t say you were, just making a point.”
“Michael could be a decent human being and I know he’s your son and you love him, but right now, he’s still a jerk.”
“I agree. Michael’s a jerk, but I still love him. I can see the real person under all the huff and bluster. Maybe you’re starting to see that person, too.”
“I still see a jerk.” But there had been a few times…
“It doesn’t happen all at once.” Stella got up, went to the sink and brought back a colander of string beans and a glass bowl. She picked one up, snapped off the ends, and threw it in the bowl. “These things take time.”
“What does? Stella?”
“You’re not in love with Nick, even though you keep telling yourself you are.” She paused. “You thought I didn’t know? A mother always knows. It’s not love—it’s infatuation, with his skill as a doctor, the respect he gets from the town, the fact that he’s a genuinely good man. That’s not the foundation for love. Besides, he’s found his match. He and Alex are perfect for each other, and look at how those two started out. Less than friendly, I’ll tell you that. And now, well now, you can’t turn around to see one that the other isn’t close behind.”
Heat crept up Elise’s neck, spread over her face. She grabbed a bean, snapped it, grabbed another. “Well, I’m not in love with Michael nor do I intend to be, now or at any time in the future.”
“I know dear.” She smiled. “I know.”
Chapter 14
I’ll miss you.
I’ll miss you, too… maybe I could change my schedule… come with you.
No! No. It’s only two days.
Sounds like two forevers.
I’ll be back in time for Justin’s birthday party. I promise.
He’s counting on it… I’m counting on it.
So am I.
Alex pushed the elevator button for the eleventh floor. She glanced at her watch. She was fifteen minutes late. Uncle Walter would be pacing, despite her phone call to tell him she was stuck in traffic. He’d thought her plan to drive from Restalline to Arlington at 4:00 a.m. was ridiculous, had told her in numerous different ways, interrogated her, asked her if she’d lost her mind and her focus. What the hell is going on up there, young lady? Answer me? What’s got a hold on you? Or is the question who? Is that it? Are you involved with someone? Good God, Alex, is that it? Are you involved with one of those… those… hillbillies?
She’d denied every accusation, though the more he prodded the weaker her response. And then the anger, a slow burn pulsing through her took over. So what if she was involved with someone? So what? Did he care, really care, or was he more concerned that she’d lost focus, as he’d put it, on the project?
Well, she hadn’t lost focus. If anything, these last months in Restalline had given her focus, real focus, the kind that shapes lives, gives meaning to the insignificant, finds a purpose that’s deeper, more valuable than a gold card or a seven-figure bank account. Simple riches, that’s what Nick had said. Living, loving, family. The people of Restalline had community. When Chuck Lubovich died, St. Stanislas was packed for his funeral, and people were singing Amazing Grace, really singing, not just half-mouthing the words, and crying into big white handkerchiefs and wads of Kleenex. And the food, Edna had so much of it—pumpkin rolls and banana breads, babovka, and stuffed cabbage, and chicken paprikash and lasagna. Yet it didn’t end there. Stella came the first night and stayed with Edna so she wouldn’t be alone, and the next night, Elise Pentani, and then Alex found herself sitting by Edna’s bed watching her toss and turn in restless slumber.
There was a beauty about this town that went much deeper than the grandness of a massive oak tree or the blueness of Sapphire Lake. It extended to the people themselves, to their selfless acts, to Nick, as he accepted a live chicken from Elmer Figgee as payment for office visits, to Alice at Hot Ed’s as she helped Gracie through labor despite the loss of
her own children, and to Edna and Chuck Lubovich when they opened their home to Alex, a stranger, never questioning, never doubting.
Alex owed it to these people, and to herself, to make the right decision, the only decision. Restalline was not for sale.
She stepped off the elevator and headed for her uncle’s suite. His door was open and as she’d guessed, he was pacing. “It’s about time.” His pale blue eyes took in her wrinkled suit. “Damn ridiculous idea you had, leaving at some unholy hour of the morning. Don’t let it happen again.”
“Hello, Uncle Walter.” Not even a hug. “Nice to see you.” She walked to the round table in the corner of the room, set down her briefcase. “I’ve got the proposals here.”
“They were due yesterday.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She didn’t offer an excuse, he’d never understand Edna’s need to visit Chuck at the cemetery for three hours yesterday, or Justin’s surprise visit to her apartment… or the strength of Nick’s arms protecting her, making her want to stay.
“What the devil is going on?” He closed the door, moved toward her.
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t like you, Alex. And it doesn’t become you, not at all.” He adjusted his gray silk tie, Armani, no doubt. “You don’t return my phone calls, and when you do, you sound as though you’re a thousand miles away and the last thing on your mind is the project. Eric never received the reports you were supposed to send last week.” He tapped his well-manicured nails on the table. “Do you honestly think I can even consider the remote possibility of making you president with this kind of behavior?”
She said nothing.
“Do you?”
Alex shook her head. “No, no I don’t.”
That seemed to surprise him. His cool gaze narrowed on her. “And that doesn’t concern you? What have you been working for all these years, if not for that?”
She tried to find the words to tell him…
“Don’t you care? Don’t you want to be president of WEC Management?”
The truth lay between them, cold, stark. “I… No, no, I don’t think so.”
The left side of his jaw twitched. “What in the name of God, does that mean?”
She looked away. Be strong, be strong. “It means… just what I said. I’ve… done some thinking”—tell him, tell him—“and I don’t think I want to be president.”
“You don’t think you want to be president? What do you want to do, Alex? Disappear into that hillbilly country and saw lumber for the rest of your life?”
She looked at him, saw the mottled color of his face. Rage. It was pure rage, but he controlled it so well. Her whole life she’d listened to him, followed him, worshipped him, even, desperate for his approval, hoping it would one day transform itself into an expression of love. That’s all she’d ever really wanted from him; love. But seeing the people of Restalline, living with them, almost becoming a part of them, had shown her that her uncle wasn’t capable of that kind of love—not the selfless, unconditional, love of parent to child. He could give her money, education, position, any measure of material wealth, but he could not give her a piece of himself. Her eyes burned as she forced out the words, “I don’t know what I want to do, Uncle Walter, but I can’t continue to do something I no longer believe in.”
“Oh? Oh. I see.” He began pacing again. “And what is it that you no longer believe in, Alex? Is it making money? Does that seem vulgar to you now? Who’s changed your mind?”
“No one.” Everyone.
“Do you object to creating, because that’s what we’re doing, creating vision.”
“But we’re destroying beauty to create that vision. Is that right? Is it fair?”
He stared at her. “Stop this foolishness right now. You’ve been destroying beauty as you call it for seven years now. Don’t tell me all of a sudden you don’t have the stomach for it.” He inclined his silver head toward her. “You’re the best, Alex. The best.”
Two months ago, this dribble of praise would have made her redouble her efforts, work harder, longer, do whatever was necessary to gain another pat on the head. But not now; things were different now. She was different. “Restalline isn’t for sale,” she said, forcing herself to meet her uncle’s steely gaze. “Even if I wanted to do the deal, you wouldn’t get the support. Norman Kraziak is firmly entrenched in his businesses,” she lied, “and Nick Androvich’s company isn’t open for discussion.”
Silence filled the room, stretching over her, heavy, suffocating. Could he tell she was lying about Norman? Is that why he was still staring at her, why he hadn’t said a word, why his jaw twitched again? Alex glanced at the portfolio in front of her. It contained a twelve-page document citing numerous examples and conclusions refuting all previous support data she’d submitted regarding the development of Restalline, Pennsylvania, into a luxury resort.
Uncle Walter walked to his desk, picked up the phone. “Sylvia, send Eric in.” She watched him, his movements calculated, precise.
“I’m sure,” Alex started, anxious to break the silence, “you’ll be able to find another location to develop, if that’s what you’re so inclined to do.”
“So inclined?” His lips curved up, froze. “Oh yes, my dear, I’m so inclined.”
The door opened and Eric appeared, looking very metropolitan in his navy pinstripe suit and red silk tie. Alex thought of Nick in his faded Levi’s and polo shirt, and his smile—pure, genuine, not contrived and forced like Eric’s.
“Alex! Glad you could make it back.”
“Eric.” She ignored the jab, her gaze flying to the file in his hand. Now what?
“Alex tells me that Restalline isn’t for sale, Eric,” Uncle Walter said, his voice calm, smooth. “She says the principals, Kraziak and Androvich, aren’t interested, says that Kraziak is, what was the word you used, Alex, ‘entrenched’? Yes, I think that was it. She says that Norman Kraziak is ‘entrenched’ in his businesses and”—he rubbed his jaw—“not willing to even consider selling.”
“Really?” There was a split-second exchange between the two men, an almost imperceptible acknowledgement, before Eric’s thin lips curved into a smile.
“That’s what she says. Right, Alex?”
“That’s right.” She crossed her arms over her chest, preparing for Eric’s disappointment. He’d never liked the word no or can’t, and his ruthlessness in the boardroom stretched throughout the business, making him a formidable opponent. But she was not prepared for the soft laughter that filled the room as he walked toward her, stopping less than a foot away.
“If that’s the truth, then I’m confused,” he said, flicking the file he held with his index finger.
“What do you mean?” She glanced at Eric, who had the look of a predator preparing for the kill, and then Uncle Walter, whose expression was cold, implacable.
“What Eric means,” her uncle said, taking the file from Eric and flipping it open on the table in front of her, “is that he’s talked to Norman Kraziak. And the man’s more than willing to sell, isn’t that right, Eric?”
“I just got off the phone with him. Of course, he was a little hesitant to speak with me at first, but once I told him who you were and why you were really there, he opened right up and practically begged us to buy him out.”
“No.” She shook her head, stared at the file with Norman Arthur Kraziak, Restalline Millworks and NK Manufacturing typed at the top of the page. “No. You can’t… he can’t…”
“I don’t know why you thought he wouldn’t sell, maybe he just needed time,” Eric went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “We owe it all to you, Alex. If Kraziak didn’t trust you so much, he wouldn’t have given me the time of day. Androvich will be squeezed out—he won’t have a choice but to follow. And it’s all because of you.” He smiled, patted her on the back. “You’re the one who’s making this happen, Alex. You. Because of you, we’re going to turn this place into the most incredible resort in the country.”
“Eric’s right,” Uncle Walter said, watching her. “It’s all because of you. Now why don’t you forget all that silliness about destroying and whatever other nonsense has been fluttering around in your head, and finish the deal?”
***
“Nick? Nick?”
“This is the residence of Dr. Nick Androvich. I’m sorry, I’m unable to come to the phone right now, but leave your name, number, and a brief message, and I’ll get back with you as soon as possible.”
Click. Alex hung up the phone, dialed his office. She had to talk to him. Now.
“Dr. Androvich’s office, may I help you?”
“Elise, this is Alex. Is Nick in?”
“He’s on another line right now, may I take a message?”
Was he talking to Norman, was she too late? “I… it’s kind of an emergency. I’m calling from Virginia.”
Pause. “Hold on. I’ll see if he can take your call.”
The wait was less than a minute, but it seemed to drag on forever with Alex picturing Norman Kraziak on the other line, telling Nick the truth about her.
“Alex?” It was Nick, his voice filled with concern.
No, he didn’t know yet. “Nick! Nick.” She sucked in air. “I’m on my way back. I’ve got to see you.”
“What’s the matter? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine… I… need to talk to you…”
“Relax. Tell me what’s the matter? You sound like you’re scared out of your mind.”
“No, I’m fine, really.” She took a deep breath. Calm down, calm down. “My meeting finished up early, so I thought I’d head back.”
“Did they like your work?”
“Yes, yes they did.” Oh, yes, they liked it all right. As a matter of fact, they loved it. I sent them enough background information on Norman that they knew exactly how to get to him.
“That’s great. I’m sure you’re proud.”
Proud. “Uh-huh.” She swallowed. “Have you talked to Norman lately?”
“No, why, am I supposed to?”