The Thrill of It All

by Christie Ridgway

  Worse, though, was the tragic expression on Felicity’s face. “Broken,” she said, blinking at the tears in her eyes. “It’s broken.”

  That wasn’t the only thing broken, he realized, as he held back from pulling her into his arms again. He wanted to comfort her too much. He wanted her too much. But the promises he’d made meant the two of them were separated forever.

  Sixteen

  Two days after her Joanie had nearly been lost, Felicity battled her restlessness by alternately playing with the cats and going through the drawers in her old bedroom. As she watched one of the ragged beasts leap off the faded quilt to chase another out the door, she sighed and turned to the old painted dresser under the window. With only one drawer left to occupy her attention, it was a good thing she had to meet the GetTV crew in a few hours. They’d selected a nature amphitheater in a nearby state park as the location for the live feed of her All That’s Cool Afternoon the next day.

  Her time in Half Palm was almost up. The trouble almost behind her.

  Though Ben had yet to show his face—they figured he was still hiding, unaware the heat had blown over—he was debt-free, thanks to her agreement with the Carusos and Drew’s enthusiasm for their sauces as future products for GetTV. Her production crew had arrived at the crack of dawn and Felicity would meet them there later to prepare for the show. Once her live sell was over tomorrow, they’d shoot some preview spots in other locations in the area.

  Once that was over, she’d return to L.A.

  The dresser’s bottom drawer stuck; it always had, she remembered. She yanked, the wood-on-wood screech like fingernails on a chalkboard. Her skin crawled at the sound, and then prickled when her next yank fully revealed the contents of the wooden drawer. Photos. And the one right on top was of Felicity’s mother and father. Though the clothes they wore in it appeared strangely familiar, she knew she’d never seen it before. All her parental memorabilia, stored in a locked, fireproof box, had moved with her to USC and then every place she’d lived since.

  Picking up the single photograph, Felicity eyed the remainder and judged them to be from later times and of more far-flung family members. Curious about this photo, she wandered out of her bedroom. “Aunt Vi?”

  It was Peter she found first, however, with Anna P. on his lap. The little girl was pushing open the front door with the heels of her feet as the man wheeled them through the entry.

  Felicity hurried over to help.

  “We can do it,” Anna P. said, smiling her sunny smile at her. “Petey and I can do anything other people can.”

  “You got that right, tiger,” Peter said.

  He glanced up at Felicity and she saw lines around his eyes and mouth that she hadn’t noticed before. He was either in pain or hadn’t been sleeping, or both. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Can I get you something?”

  “If only you could…” he murmured, but then he smiled, a shadow of his usual grin. “However, I’ve earned my gold star for the day. Anna P. needed a ride to Grandma’s house and I obliged.”

  “Mommy said I’d have more fun here. She’s doing papers and money and stuff with Magee.” Anna P. rolled her eyes as if she were fifteen instead of not quite four. “Boring.”

  “Grandma’s somewhere around,” Felicity said. “Maybe out back?”

  The little girl slid to the floor. “I’ll find her.”

  Felicity watched her run off and then turned to Peter. “‘Papers and money and stuff’? I hope that means he’s taking charge of Ashley’s financial situation.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” His gaze dropped from hers. “But, to tell you the truth, I hope not. Ashley can do her own taking-charge.”

  Felicity lifted her eyebrows, thinking of gambling and huge credit card balances. “Well…”

  “Not you, too.” Peter shook his head in obvious disgust. “Have you forgotten she has a degree in accounting?”

  A degree in accounting? Felicity blinked. “I—I didn’t know. I remember she was going to enroll in some classes at the community college….”

  “She finished up her bachelor’s degree a week before Anna P. was born. Your aunt and I were at her graduation—Simon and Magee were on an expedition in the Himalayas.”

  Felicity felt her face flush. Where had she been a week before Anna P.’s birth? She couldn’t remember. To avoid Peter’s eyes, she glanced down at the photograph in her hand. Her mother and father, in blue jeans and matching satiny flowered shirts of the seventies. Something about the clothes…

  She rubbed at a sudden ache in her head.

  “You don’t look as if you’ve been getting much rest either.”

  “Me?” She glanced over at him, then looked back at her parents, tracing their smiling faces with her eyes. “I’m…I’m just eager to get back home.”

  “You won’t be able to forget what happened to you here so easily,” he said quietly. “I remember the light best at night. Do you?”

  “Yes.” Her answer was automatic. “Sometimes, right before I fall asleep, I feel it again and—” Her head came up and she stared at him.

  “And what?” His gaze was steady.

  “I don’t remember,” she answered quickly. “I don’t remember anything.” It was too weird.

  “Maybe it would be easier if I didn’t,” Peter replied, grimacing. “I hoped if I did things right, made amends where I could, that I’d find that light right here on earth.”

  She swallowed. “You…uh, haven’t?”

  “Well…” He drew the word out, then a small smile curved his mouth. “Maybe…maybe in some quiet moments, I have. Magee and I like to play darts before the Bivy opens. One in ten times I let him beat me and I definitely feel the glow then.”

  She had to laugh.

  “Other times, too. When I read a book to Anna P. or tell her a funny story about her dad. And then once in a while I’m behind the bar and I look across the room and see Ashley. It’s as if she feels me, because she’ll glance up and meet my eyes and then…and then she is the light.”

  Felicity’s heart squeezed and she sidled toward the kitchen, the conversation making her uneasy. “I should get you a cool drink, or get Aunt Vi….”

  At that moment, Aunt Vi herself bustled into the room, Anna P. on her hip. “Get me why?”

  “Well, I…” As she fumbled for something to say, Felicity’s gaze fell again on the photo in her hand. She held it up for her aunt. “I was wondering about this. I’ve never seen it before.”

  Aunt Vi frowned. It made her look older, more worn than Felicity had noticed before. “It’s Ellie and Ron, of course, but I don’t remember the occasion, though it looks like it was taken in front of this house.” She pointed to the background. “And that’s their red truck. They bought it right before the trip to Las Vegas.”

  Felicity’s fingers tightened on the photograph. It was likely, then, that this was the last picture her parents had ever posed for. Where had she been when it was taken? Playing robbers and cops with her cousins? Watching over the latest of Aunt Vi’s kitten-adoptees?

  The phone rang and Felicity absently crossed to answer it. The voice on the other end was unfamiliar to her, and sounded muffled. “What? What are you saying?” she responded. “No. That’s been taken care of. Yes, it has. Believe me—”

  The caller hung up.

  Felicity stood frozen. “That was someone who claimed to have…that they have…” Her gaze latched on to Anna P.’s precious face and she held back her shudder. “B-e-n. They want r-a-n-s-o-m m-o-n-e-y.”

  Aunt Vi blinked. “What?”

  “B-e-n. R-a-n-s-o-m.”

  Anna P.’s eyes widened. “Is it a secret? About a present for me?”

  Felicity pasted on a smile. “Maybe. We’ll see.” The photo of her parents fluttered out of her hands and she let it fall as she rushed for her purse. “Don’t worry about a thing, Aunt Vi. I’m going to find out the problem. I’m going straight to Mr. Caruso.”

  “Don’t,” Peter warned. “Let�
�s call Magee, think this through.”

  Felicity could only think of the renewed worry in Aunt Vi’s eyes. “No! It was a business deal, my deal, and I’ll make sure there’s not a problem.” Maybe it was a mistake, though she’d believed the man on the other end of the phone. “Has anyone seen my sneakers?”

  “You can’t go visit Mr. Caruso dressed like that,” Aunt Vi said.

  “What?” Looking for her shoes, Felicity shifted a pile of newspapers off the couch. She was wearing old jeans and on old shirt, but Aunt Vi wasn’t one to care about clothes. “Why?”

  “If it’s business,” Aunt Vi said firmly, “then you should dress for business.”

  Felicity hesitated. “That sounds like something I’d tell my viewers.”

  “You did,” Aunt Vi said. “On the tape you sent me last month. So take a shower. Put some nice clothes on.”

  Maybe she was right, Felicity thought, looking down at her shabby clothes. She was fairly certain she hadn’t brushed her hair since the day Magee had announced his engagement.

  She dashed for the bathroom. “I’ll be out in seven minutes.”

  It was little more than that when she walked out of her bedroom wearing the suit she’d worn to the trade show. Thanks to a major case of nerves mixed with anxiety, her ankles felt wobbly in her high heels, but she’d managed to apply a smooth coat of lipstick. “I’m ready,” she said when she reentered the living room.

  Peter was the only one there. “Felicity, don’t go.”

  She ignored him. “Where’s Aunt Vi?”

  “Let me go with you. It could be dangerous alone.”

  Felicity tried on a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. I met old Mr. Caruso years ago, when I was in school. He was a teddy bear—well, not a teddy bear, exactly, but certainly not the dangerous patriarch of a Mafia family. I’m beginning to think this is all a big hoax.”

  “Ask Magee if it’s a hoax,” Peter said. “Ask him who killed Johnny’s father.”

  Her hands went icy, but she backed away from Peter toward the front door. “Tell Aunt Vi I’ll call her as soon as I know anything.”

  Then she hurried out the door, just in time to see a grim-faced Magee pull up in front of the house. He leaned over to throw open the passenger door. “Get in.”

  She opened her mouth to protest and he cut her off with a gesture.

  “Damn it, Felicity, you don’t have to take on the whole goddamn world alone.”

  But she always had and she was accustomed to it. Still, he looked angry and stubborn enough to stop her, so she slid onto the seat.

  He left a layer of rubber on the street. “Vi called me,” he spit out. “But you should have.”

  “Why?” she shot back. “You’re not my shoulder to lean on. You’re not even my lover.”

  “I care about you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine on my own. No big deal.”

  “No big deal? You’re planning to confront a Mafia don in his den and you say it’s no big deal?”

  Her hands went cold again. “Who’s Johnny? Peter mentioned the name.”

  He shot her a look. “My brother.”

  “And who…who killed his father?” she heard herself whisper.

  He stayed silent a moment. “The Caruso family,” he finally said. “There’s no real proof, but it has all the hallmarks of a mob hit.”

  She swallowed, trying to grasp it in her mind. “It doesn’t seem possible…and in any case, that was years ago.” Her voice got stronger. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  With a curse, Magee pulled over to the side of the road and braked. “I won’t go another inch until you listen. This isn’t something to take lightly.” He ran his hands through his hair in apparent frustration.

  “More than fifteen years after the murder, and the name Caruso still makes my mother break out in a cold sweat. She can hardly speak about the man who was her ex-husband or what happened to him and what Johnny saw when his father was murdered. When I first learned about it—I overheard her talking to my father—her fear scared the hell out of me, because I’d never seen her unable to handle something.”

  “What did you overhear?”

  He looked away, and then back at her. “At the time, I didn’t yet know how my brother’s father had died, or that he’d witnessed it. But that day the FBI had stopped by the house with some mug shots for Johnny and my mother to look at. She was shaking and crying and terrified that the mob would now come after us.”

  Felicity reached out to clutch his hand. “Were you at risk?”

  “I don’t think so, now. Professor Magee and family were too far removed from the original circumstances. And Johnny claims to this day he didn’t see who shot his father. But my mother lived with that fear for a very long time.”

  And so had Magee. “What did you do when you found out?”

  He blinked at her. “What did I do?”

  She nodded.

  “Nothing. I was fourteen years old. I heard what my mom said, figured out what had happened to Johnny’s father, then I ran off to meet my buddy Brad in our old barn.”

  “Did you tell him about it?”

  Magee disengaged their hands and then turned the key in the ignition. “Tell Brad? I didn’t have the chance. We were doing some renovations and there was a two-by-four running across the rafters about twenty feet off the ground. When I got there, Brad had moved a ladder over and the first thing he did when I came in was dare me to walk across that beam.”

  Felicity studied the blank mask of his face. “Did you?”

  “I remember I was shaking, my knees nearly knocking together, but I wanted to.”

  “And did you?”

  “I did.” He pulled the car back onto the road. “And when I reached the other end of the two-by-four I wasn’t shaking anymore.”

  They were silent for the rest of the ride, except for when she gave him directions to the Caruso estate. The family had been major benefactors of OLPP and had hosted several school events at their palatial home every year. Felicity remembered everything about it, including the guard in the guardhouse at the bottom of the gated drive.

  When Magee braked, she slipped out of the car. “I’ll handle him,” she said, and hurried to intercept the man before he got too close. The guy was huge, six and a half feet, maybe, and wearing a pale gray suit and matching tie instead of a security uniform. In the dark lenses of his wraparound sunglasses she saw her white face.

  But, taking a breath, she donned her Sweetheart of Sales smile. Then she smooth-talked him into getting exactly what she wanted.

  Herself inside.

  And Magee left out.

  Ashley jumped from the couch in the living room when the doorbell rang. Magee? But he wouldn’t use the bell. Ben?

  Throwing open the door brought a quick surge of joy. It was Peter. Peter. Then a cold wave of fear doused her.

  “Is there news?” she whispered, moving aside to allow Peter to wheel himself inside.

  He glanced up. “I wasn’t sure you knew.”

  Ashley flushed. What he meant was that he thought Magee might have protected her from knowing about Ben. “I answered the phone when my mom called over here,” Ashley admitted. “She told me.”

  Peter was probably right, Magee wouldn’t have.

  “Is there news?” she asked again, trying to sound stronger.

  He shook his head. “Not yet. I took off right after Magee picked up Felicity. Don’t worry, though, I’m sure they’ll handle everything. I came over because I thought…I thought you might need a friend.”

  Friendship. It was what she’d hoped for, even after that night in the break room—but a hope she’d abandoned the next day, when she’d witnessed the cold expression overtake Peter’s face when Magee informed him they were engaged. But she should have known…

  Her face broke into a smile and she couldn’t help herself from leaning down to hug him. “Thank you, Peter,” she whispered, her cheek against his. “Thank you.”
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  One of his arms came around to embrace her, and she closed her eyes to savor the closeness. Beneath her palms, his shoulders were wide and strong. The side of his face was hard, the skin roughened by the slightest stubble, like fine-grained sandpaper. She’d forgotten just how…male a man was, and she rubbed her chin against him a little, enjoying the masculine texture and the masculine scent of him.

  He pushed her away.

  She leaped back, her whole body blushing in embarrassment. “Can I get you some coffee? Let me get you some coffee.” Without bothering to look at him or let him answer for himself, she hightailed it for the kitchen.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb, she chanted to herself as she prepared two mugs of coffee with hearty dollops of milk and then set them in the microwave for a quick zap. Peter doesn’t want a weakling leaning on him.

  The steaming mugs gave her something to focus on as she walked back into the living room. Peter had positioned his wheelchair beside the couch. She handed him one of the hot coffees, then sat down on the middle cushions—not too close.

  An awkward silence—the first she could ever remember with Peter—grew between them. Ashley fidgeted beneath the weight of it, all the things he’d said to her in recent days swirling in her mind.

  Why would you want to be with half a man?

  You let Simon roll over you when he was alive.

  You let Magee baby you after Simon was dead.

  “How’s your paperwork going?”

  His sudden question startled her. “My paperwork?” Peter was looking at the surface of the coffee table in front of the couch, its surface scattered with bills, scratch paper, pencils, and a calculator. “Oh. My paperwork.”

  A ruddy red colored his cheekbones. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

  “No, no!” She must have sounded offended when she’d really been distracted.

  You don’t want me, so what’s the big deal about another flaw or two?

  He wasn’t the one who was flawed, it was her. It had always been her, he must know that.

  She tried to sip her coffee, but it was scorching-hot, so she leaned forward to set the mug on top of one of her latest Visa bills. “Now that I’ve laid everything out and added it all up, the debt is terrible—but not as bad as when I didn’t add it all up. As of this morning, my credit cards are confetti and I’m going to look for a second job.”