Closer Than She Thinks

by Meryl Sawyer

The Warehouse District had changed since Alyssa had wandered up and down its streets as a freshman at Tulane. Revitalization had transformed the rundown buildings into the go-go center of the art world in New Orleans as well as a trendy residential neighborhood. Art, hip people, interesting upscale shops, she observed.

  “The available space is right there.” Jake took her to a small, empty store fronting on the busy sidewalk. He unlocked the door and flicked on the lights.

  The shop was about the size of her boutique in Milan, and a little smaller than the shop she had in Florence. It would certainly work, she thought, excited.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  She strolled around, inspecting the premises. “The lighting will have to be improved to properly show the jewelry. Other than that, it’s perfect. What are the terms of the lease like?”

  “I own the building.”

  “You mean TriTech owns it.”

  “No, I bought it myself. I live in the loft upstairs.” He winked. “I’ll cut you a special deal.”

  “I’m positive Eve said the same thing to Adam when she offered him the apple.”

  He chuckled, then asked, “Do you want to meet Benson?”

  “Benson?”

  “My golden retriever. He’s upstairs.”

  “Is this like showing me your etchings?”

  “Right, except Benson is a lot more fun.”

  She knew better, but she responded, “I want to meet him.”

  Jake locked up the shop and led her up the nearby stairs. At the top he slid his key into an industrial door. He unlocked it, then swung it wide.

  “Welcome to my place.”

  She stepped into a single room the size of a cathedral with a fifteen-foot open ceiling that exposed duct work artistically lighted by incandescent bulbs. To the right was a kitchen partially concealed by a magnificent black and red lacquer Chinese screen. A matching screen divided the living area from the bedroom, where she glimpsed a four-poster bed that appeared to be an antique.

  “Hey, Benson, I’m home,” Jake called. “He’s not much of a watchdog. He’s probably out on the roof deck sleeping on guard duty.”

  A honey-blond retriever bounded from around the corner at the far end of the loft. He skidded to a halt near the kitchen area and picked up a stuffed rabbit with long fluffy ears. The dog scampered up to Jake, wagging his tail so enthusiastically that his rear end swung from side to side.

  “Benson always brings me a present.” Jake accepted the rabbit and gave the dog a pat. “Good boy, good boy. This is my main squeeze, Alyssa.”

  She leveled him with a drop-dead-you-creep look while Benson slathered her extended hand with kisses. “Benson, you’re totally cool even if your owner is a bit weird.”

  “Trust me, sweet cheeks, you haven’t seen weird yet.”

  The retriever shamelessly collapsed in a heap at her toes. Alyssa bent over and scratched his chest. Benson flayed the air with his paws and grunted with delight.

  “What a great dog,” she told Jake, thinking how lonely she’d been growing up and how much she’d wanted a dog, but Hattie LeCroix hated pets. She deliberately ignored Jake, who was watching her, a strange smile on his face. Knowing him, Jake could be up to anything.

  “Okay, Benson, go get your leash.”

  The retriever rolled to his feet, sprinted across the entire length of the huge room, and skidded to a stop on the oak plank floor. He stood up on his hind legs and grabbed a leash off a hook on the wall. His tail whipping the air, he charged back to Jake.

  Jake snapped the black fabric leash with white paw prints onto the matching collar Benson wore. He dropped his end of the leash onto the floor, and the dog gathered it up in his mouth.

  “Let’s go,” Jake said. “There’s a sidewalk café down the street. If we take a table outside, Benson can stay with us.”

  The dog pranced over to the door, tail wagging, and waited for them. Alyssa followed, asking herself why Jake hadn’t tried anything since picking her up. Men, weren’t they a trip? Who knew what went through their minds.

  Downstairs on the sidewalk, Jake made no attempt to take the leash from Benson. The dog lifted his leg on the fire hydrant in front of the shop Alyssa intended to lease.

  “Aren’t you going to hold his leash?” she asked.

  “Nope. Benson won’t leave my side, but there’s a leash law. Dogs must be on a leash.” He grinned at her and she was instantly reminded of a naughty little boy. “Benson’s on a leash.”

  She couldn’t help chuckling. “What if a policeman tickets you?”

  “I’ve fought one ticket already. The law is very clear. Dogs must be on a leash, but it doesn’t say the owner has to hold the leash.”

  “You got away with it?”

  “You bet. I’m complying with the letter of the law.”

  She shook her head and pretended to be outraged, but she thought he was very clever. There was a lot more to him that she’d imagined. When they’d first met, she hadn’t liked him much and thought he was cold, controlling. When he came on to her, Alyssa decided he was a poster boy for the single life, but now she wondered.

  She intended to get to know him better instead of allowing him to seduce her and then find out what kind of a man he was. Still, she couldn’t help being a touch disappointed that he hadn’t at least attempted to kiss her when he had her alone in his loft.

  “Why did you choose a loft?” she asked.

  He walked beside her, then unexpectedly, he took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. A stab of something she couldn’t quite name hit her. When was the last time a guy had held her hand?

  “Benson, cookie, cookie,” called a man from the entrance to Wok on The Wild Side.

  The retriever sashayed over, tail in motion. He dropped the leash and took the cookie the waiter offered.

  “He’s got fans up and down the street,” Jake told her after he’d greeted the man who was giving Benson a treat.

  “Why a loft?” she repeated her question.

  He waited until Benson had downed the cookie in a single gulp and had returned to his side. He searched her face for a moment, considering the question for longer than it seemed to merit.

  “When I was a kid,” he responded, then stopped.

  Alyssa realized something about the question bothered him. She was curious, but she’d just been making conversation.

  “In Mobile, right?”

  “Yes, I grew up there in a tin trailer the size of a”—he looked around—“a fire hydrant. The outhouse was a few feet away, but in the summer, it might as well have been in the middle of the living room. When I could afford my own place, I wanted something big, spacious.”

  She sensed it had been difficult for him to tell her this. She wasn’t sure why, but knew she was right.

  “I know what you mean,” she felt obliged to confess. “I spent years in a converted laundry room with a tiny window. I couldn’t get enough air, especially in the summer when it was hot and humid.”

  He stopped, released her hand, and gazed down at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Why would they treat you like that?”

  She shrugged. “Who cares? I stopped asking myself why years ago. Gordon LeCroix ignored me—when he was around—but Hattie despised me.” And I hated her, she silently admitted.

  Br-ring, br-ring. Her brand-new cell phone rang from where she’d dropped it into her purse. Almost no one had the number. She reached into the bag slung from her shoulder and retrieved the phone.

  “Hello … hello.”

  “Is this Alyssa Rossi?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “Mercy General Hospital. Your aunt—” She hardly heard the rest. Tears blurred her vision.

  Jake grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Aunt Thee’s been taken to the hospital. I have to go.” She sprinted down the street.

  Jake caught up with her. “Wait. I’ll take you. You’re in no condition to drive.”

 
; CHAPTER 14

  Alyssa shifted on the sofa in the waiting room outside the cardiac unit at Mercy General Hospital. Several hours had dragged by since they’d raced to the hospital. Aunt Thee was still in surgery.

  “Don’t worry, she’ll be okay.” Jake sat beside her, his arm draped across the back of the sofa just above her shoulders.

  “I hope so,” she whispered, her throat so tight she could barely speak.

  “The nurse said Thee was conscious when the ambulance brought her in. That’s a good sign.”

  “She hasn’t been herself for months.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Aunt Thee has seemed slower … more tired. I just thought she was getting older. I should have made her go to a doctor.”

  “Sometimes it’s difficult to tell what’s age related and what isn’t. It doesn’t do any good to beat yourself up. You’ll just need to watch her more carefully in the future.”

  The note of compassion in his voice surprised her. She wasn’t sure what she expected from him. He joked a lot, yet he could be alarmingly serious. She’d told him that he didn’t have to stay with her, but Jake insisted on waiting, and she was grateful he was keeping her company.

  “I had been planning on getting my own place,” she said. “Maybe I should stay with Aunt Thee. She’s all the family I have. I love her so much.”

  Until now it hadn’t dawned on Alyssa how alone she’d feel without her aunt. When she’d been growing up in the LeCroix household, she’d missed her parents terribly. Then she’d been devastated by the way everyone blamed her for the baby’s disappearance. Alyssa had been totally unprepared for the love Aunt Thee offered. At first she’d been shell-shocked and couldn’t respond, but as time went on, Alyssa came to think of her aunt as a second mother.

  The door to the cardiac unit swung open and a man clad in an operating gown and cap walked into the waiting area. Jake rose, bringing Alyssa up with him, his arm bracing her.

  “You’re Theodora Canali’s daughter?”

  Alyssa managed to nod and chose not to explain she was a niece not a daughter. After he introduced himself as Dr. Robinson, Alyssa asked, “How is she?”

  “We had to insert a pacemaker, but it went very smoothly. I expect her to make a full recovery.”

  “When may I see her?”

  “It’ll be an hour or so that they can bring her out of recovery into ICU. You’ll be able to see her then. I’ll have the nurse come get you.” The surgeon spoke to her for a few minutes, discussing Aunt Thee’s condition before leaving.

  “Are you all right?” Jake asked, and she realized she was trembling.

  “I’m fine. I’m relieved, but—”

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  She had to think a second. “This morning.”

  His sturdy arm bracing her, he guided Alyssa out of the waiting area. “Let’s go to the cafeteria and grab a bite. By the time we finish, your aunt should be out of recovery.”

  The cafeteria was closed, and they had to settle for packaged sandwiches from a vending machine. They took the food up to the waiting room. Alyssa wanted to be there in case the nurse came to find her.

  “What about your mother?” she asked, realizing she’d been talking more and more about herself each time she was with Jake. He rarely mentioned anything personal.

  “My mother died ten years ago next month.” His tone was surprisingly gentle. “I was nearby when it happened. I got to her immediately, but she was gone.”

  “A heart attack?”

  He shook his head, his dark eyes intense. “Aneurysm. At least she didn’t suffer.”

  “Seeing her like that must have been terrible.” She couldn’t imagine what she would have done had Aunt Thee collapsed and died in front of her. His mother’s tragic death was bound to have left an emotional scar. “What happened?”

  He hesitated a moment, unspoken pain reflected in his eyes. “My mother was a strong woman. She’d worked for years at Billie Bob’s Bait Barge on the commercial dock in Mobile. For a woman with no education, the pay was good. She claimed it kept the bills paid.”

  “Did your father give her money for child support?”

  “He said he tried, but she wouldn’t accept it. I believe him. My mother was stubborn. She didn’t want a thing to do with Max after the divorce.”

  “I see,” Alyssa replied, but she didn’t. Why hadn’t Max found a way to help his son?

  “Even after I graduated from high school and was on my own, Mother insisted on staying at Billie Bob’s. She was lugging a fifty pound bucket of bait anchovies when she keeled over.”

  “Oh, my God! Why was she carrying such a heavy load?”

  “Tips. It’s a four-letter word. The rich dudes who sport fish out of Mobile are big tippers—especially if a woman brings them the bait. For years my mother delivered the bait to make extra money.”

  She didn’t have to ask if they’d been close; she could hear it in his voice. But what about Max? Was Jake close to his father now? Should she tell him about Max’s visit?

  “Your parents were divorced when you were little, right?” she asked. He’d told her this much when he’d taken her to his father’s party, but he’d seemed reluctant to reveal anything more.

  “They’d married because Mother was pregnant. They were divorced right after I was born. Max didn’t show up again until the year after my mother died.” He studied her a moment as if weighing whether or not to say more. “Max decided he needed an heir. He’d had a heart attack and was feeling vulnerable.”

  “You hadn’t seen him once in all those years?”

  “Nope. Max was too busy making money, and he wasn’t interested in me. When he reappeared, I didn’t know who he was until he told me.”

  “Are you two close now?”

  Jake shrugged. “Not really. Max tries but we don’t have much in common except the business.”

  Don’t tell him about Max’s visit, she cautioned herself. Don’t come between a father and his son. She realized now how much Aunt Thee meant to her even though she’d belatedly appeared in her life. Let Jake and his father work things out. Obviously, they’d discussed getting rid of Rossi Designs, and Jake had refused. Why make matters worse by telling him about Max’s threat?

  “I suppose you think I’m damn lucky,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Actually, she’d thought the opposite. A father who hadn’t been interested in his son and a mother who’d died so tragically did not seem to be lucky.

  “I’ve been given a business without having to lift a finger.”

  “I assumed you earned it by working extra hard for your father.” Having seen the ugly side of Max Williams, she was positive this was true. He would be a difficult man to please.

  “I’ve done my best. Max doesn’t give compliments, but he officially retired and made me CEO.”

  “That says a lot.”

  His dark, earnest eyes sought hers. “I’ve made a number of very profitable acquisitions since I’ve been with TriTech.”

  She tried to joke, but it was difficult knowing Aunt Thee was so ill. “Other than Rossi Designs, tell me about your most interesting acquisition.”

  “Is this a test?”

  “I’m curious, that’s all.” Knowing more about him made her feel connected to him in a way that was difficult to explain. Here she was in the city where she’d grown up with no one to keep her company in a crisis except a man she hardly knew.

  His head dropped back and he gazed up at the ceiling. “Agave. I cornered the agave market.”

  She racked her brains but couldn’t come up with anything. “I give up. What’s agave?”

  “Cactus. It’s a spindly blue plant. When you hack away the leaves you have something that looks like a huge pineapple. It weighs a hundred pounds or more. Chop up the pina, roast it in steam ovens and you have the basis of tequila.”

  “You cornered the tequila market?”

  “Damn right. On the yachts I skip
pered before good old Max decided to reappear in my life, margaritas were the rage. With each drink the guys liked to have a shooter, a shot glass of straight tequila.

  “After Max brought me onboard, I started thinking. People were beginning to drink Tequila straight like martinis, and they paid a premium for fine tequila. Where did it come from? How was it produced? The Kennedys made their fortune from imported Scotch. Why not tequila?”

  “Interesting.”

  “It takes eight years for an agave plant to reach maturity. So what they’re harvesting now reflects what was planted when tequila wasn’t in demand the way it is now.”

  “You’ve made a killing.”

  He nodded, obviously pleased with himself. “I engineered the deal to purchase the agave fields once owned by José Cuevo and Sauza. To have the word ‘tequila’ on the label, it must be certified as coming from blue agave plants from the Jalisco region of Mexico. Anything else cannot be labeled tequila.”

  “Like champagne. It has to be called sparkling wine unless it comes from the Champagne region of France, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Same thing for Chianti and sherry, I think,” she said and he nodded, seeming surprised. “See, I’m not just a bimbo who makes jewelry.”

  “You sure had me fooled.”

  She socked him in the arm. It felt good to be teasing again, but she wouldn’t be able to relax until Aunt Thee was out of the hospital.

  “Even my father has been blown away by what tequila nets worldwide. Tequila bars are sprouting up everywhere. People sit down and sample tequila that’s been aged for years like Scotch.”

  “Is it that expensive?”

  “Close enough for government work,” he said, his tone joking. “Max has to admit I’ve taken the company in new directions not only with tequila but with other ideas I’ve had.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a lot of things.” There was an edge to his voice now. “My father was a master of what he did. Times are changing. We need to think globally now. TriTech started out being a group of Southern companies. Now we’re international.”

  She wondered where Rossi Designs fit in. She didn’t view the world in such a big scope. She designed for a special woman—no matter what country she lived in—who wanted a unique piece of jewelry.