“It’s ridiculous,” Will agreed. “They come over here and break their backs building our railroads, then we treat them like garbage. Not exactly ‘America the Beautiful’ for them.”
While Will ate his stew, Gus contemplated what his partner had said. Mr. Chou the gardener came to mind. Chou was a good man who worked damn hard, not only for Gus, but for a number of Gus’s neighbors. A while back he’d told Gus in halting English that he hadn’t visited his home country in ten years. The shipping lines didn’t want them, so they charged a fortune for Chinese passengers both coming and going. That wasn’t right. “Here’s an idea,” Gus finally said. “Why not get ahead of the pack and pitch the Chinese instead? Make Pacific Global Shipping the favored line for Asian passengers. Charge ’em fairly, treat ’em kindly.”
Will looked at Gus. They both knew such a policy would be a loss leader for a few years, but in the long run it could serve their company well. “I’d have to sell the idea to the board of directors.”
Gus finished the rest of his beer. “If anyone can sweet talk ’em, you can.” He caught Will’s eyes and held them. “And you know it’s the right thing to do.”
Will rose from the table and shrugged on his coat. “I’ll work up some numbers, see how we go about promoting the line.” He grinned. “And since you’re such a bleedin’ heart, I’ll let you take pity on me and pick up the tab.”
“Might’ve known,” Gus grumbled as he pulled out his wallet.
A short time later Gus pulled up to the front entrance of his mansion. He noticed Sandy’s automobile parked nearby and sighed, knowing Sandy’s car meant Sandy would be inside working with Lia. Fortunately he liked the guy, even if Sandy was a bit swishy for Gus’s taste. Still, anyone who would do what that man had done for Lia was all right in his book.
“Lia?” Knowing Lia wanted to keep the mural private until she was ready to show it, he always called out her name when he entered the house to give her time to cover it up. This time, however, it was Sandy who called out in return.
“Where’s Lia?” Gus asked, pulling off his driving gloves as he walked into the dining room. Sandy was wiping off brushes, apparently finished for the day.
“Ah, she’s working on the portrait for Mrs. Mason and asked me if I’d do some background work here. She said to tell you it’ll be finished soon but you’re not to look at it until she can unveil it for you.”
Gus smiled. “She’s a trusting little thing, isn’t she? I could have looked at it a hundred times by now.”
Sandy wiped his hands and looked at Gus intently. “But you haven’t, have you?”
“No,” Gus said. “I told her I wouldn’t.”
Sandy nodded. “I figured…and so did she. She trusts you, you know.”
The way he said it and the look he gave Gus sent a shiver down Gus’s spine. Lia trusted him, and so far he hadn’t given her reason not to. But if she felt even a tenth of what he felt for her, then something would have to give, and give soon. He just didn’t know what he would do when that time came. He tried to make light of it and wagged his finger at Sandy. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re the protective papa putting the nervous suitor through his paces. Maybe I oughta butter you up with a drink.”
“I’d like one, thanks,” Sandy said. “Sherry if you have it.”
Gus walked over to the sideboard that held his liquor supply. “I have it, but are you sure you want it? Not really a man’s drink, is it?”
Sandy said nothing, only shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
Gus grinned back. Damned if he didn’t like the man. He poured Sandy the sherry and handed it to him, gesturing to the draped mural. “So, is Lia happy with her creation?”
“Yes, I think so,” Sandy said. “As much as any artist is with their own work. I think she believes you’ll like it, which is what’s most important to her.”
Gus took a drink of the whiskey he’d poured himself. “I know I’ll like it,” he replied, “simply because she made it.”
Sandy took a sip and looked at Gus over the edge of the glass. “I’m glad, because she’s heading into a rough patch and she’ll need a bit of support, something to feel good about.”
Gus froze, his protective instincts kicking into gear. “What do you mean, ‘a rough patch’? What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” Sandy reassured him. “It’s just…well, she turns twenty-nine in a couple of weeks. That wouldn’t be so bad except it happens to fall right on the heels of her son’s birthday.”
“That’s right. She told me he’ll be six.”
Sandy nodded. “To add insult to injury, she just found out that her sister Emma—the one who married her ex-husband—has given birth to twin daughters. Lia says she’s happy for them, and I believe she truly is. But still, it’s got to be painful.”
“Hell, yes,” Gus agreed. “Like a jab to the heart.” He paused before adding, “I wanted to tell you what a gutsy thing you did for Lia back in New York.”
Sandy looked a bit apprehensive. “She told you about that, did she?”
“Yeah, she did. She pretty much thinks you walk on water, my friend, and while I wouldn’t go that far, I’ve gotta say, what you did took balls of steel.” He looked straight at Sandy and held out his hand. “I’m proud to know you, Mr. de Kalb.”
Sandy returned Gus’s handshake and smiled. “Too bad you’re taken,” he kidded.
Gus smiled back. “I’m taken, all right. Hook, line, and sinker. Maybe some other time.”
They both laughed and finished their drinks. Sandy collected his supplies and on his way out, he turned to Gus and said, “Lia is a very special woman, and I know you know it. If I were more…conventional…I’d never let her out of my sight. She deserves a good man. I hope he turns out to be you.”
Later that night Gus pondered the dilemma that was Lia Starling. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything or anyone in his life. He wanted to commit to her, make a home with her, create a child with her. But it went beyond mere wanting. He needed her.
But how could he take all that without giving her what she needed? Could she accept him as he was? Would she? He feared asking the question because he feared knowing the answer. Yet it had to be asked, and sooner rather than later.
An idea began to take shape. He would give her the most memorable birthday she’d ever had. And then he’d gift her with the one thing she deserved more than anything else in the world: the truth. After that they would find a way forward together. They had to. His happiness, and he hoped hers, depended on it.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lia woke up on her twenty-ninth birthday smiling and full of anticipation. Gus had claimed her for dinner and a “special surprise,” he’d said. He would be calling for her at seven in the evening.
She spent the day working on Mrs. Mason’s portrait. Through a number of conversations about possible themes, she’d gleaned that the wealthy patroness (whom she now had permission to call by her first name, Bertha) adored working in her hothouse. Orchids were her specialty. Rather than depict the heavyset woman realistically with a potted plant by her side, Lia chose to explore the emotional connection Bertha had with her hobby.
“I suppose they make me feel more delicate,” Bertha admitted to her during a break for tea one afternoon. “And they’re exotic. In the wild, they only thrive in hot, humid climates like the jungle.”
On another occasion, over a couple of glasses of wine, Bertha had shared another aspect of her penchant for orchids. She motioned Lia to lean over the table so that she could whisper. “Orkhis means ‘testicle’ in Greek,” she confessed before giggling. “It’s a very sexual flower.”
Armed with that insight, Lia had thrown convention out the window and sketched a portrait in which Bertha, who really had a lovely face, was standing in her hothouse partially obscured by giant ferns and orchids, beckoning the viewer into her world. She looked mysterious and worldly, and, some would say, quite alluring.
Bertha
fell in love with the concept.
Once she got the go-ahead, Lia spent a week painting and fine-tuning the work. She was now close to finishing the portrait, and brought it to the Mason’s mansion for a preview. If Bertha’s husband, Hunter, disliked it, she’d be starting from scratch.
She needn’t have worried.
“It’s marvelous,” Hunter exclaimed as he viewed the work. He was a successful, well-connected banker in his mid-sixties, and like Bertha, the privileged life he’d led was evident around his waistline. He put his arm around his wife. “You’ve captured Bertie’s obsession perfectly, and made us all see why she spends so much time amidst the dratted heat and all that soil.” He turned and wiggled his eyebrows at Bertha. “Seems I’ll have to find the time to make a visit to your domain, my dear.” Bertha giggled and Lia inwardly heaved a sigh of relief.
Back at her bungalow, she spent an hour getting dressed for her birthday celebration. For the past several years this week would send her into a funk that even Sandy couldn’t cajole her out of. But this year was different. This year she would spend the evening with a man who made her feel as though she were the most special creature on the planet.
During the past three months she had gotten to know the real man behind the newspaper tabloids. Gus was completely self-made. He was intelligent, intuitive, and a hard worker who cared about the people around him. Sandy was a perfect example. Gus could have treated him with derision, or worse yet, ignored him, but he didn’t. In fact, it seemed he genuinely liked and admired her wonderful friend. Then there was Will. He had nothing but good things to say about Gus, and she trusted Will’s judgment. And there was Gus himself. Aside from the first couple of times they’d met, Gus had been very respectful toward her, even though he’d let her know in a thousand different ways that all she had to do was say the word and he’d give her more.
Did she want more? If she were honest, she’d have to say a resounding yes. She wanted him physically, but it went way beyond that: she realized she was on the brink of falling in love with him. To her, “more” meant a future of some kind. If they became lovers, would that be the extent of it? Would he ever commit to something more permanent? He hadn’t made a commitment in the years since he’d been divorced. Maybe he never wanted to go down that road again. Lia shook her head ruefully. Why would he treat her any differently than he had all his other liaisons? Was she crazy to hope for something different?
She decided to put all such thoughts at the back of her mind as she pondered the outfit she’d selected for the evening. When she’d signed the contract with Mrs. Mason, she’d splurged on a stunning gown she had to admit she’d bought with Gus in mind. It was a full-length deep-turquoise sheath with a small train and short sleeves offset from the shoulder. It displayed the tops of her breasts but wasn’t vulgar in any way. The back accentuated her curves as well. Smiling to herself, she decided not to wear her hair completely up but chose a newer style in which some of her tresses flowed over her shoulders. Gus seemed to like running his hands through her hair when he kissed her, and wouldn’t he at least want to give her a birthday kiss? She finished dressing and put on her formal black coat, hoping to impress him once they reached the restaurant.
Promptly at seven p.m. there was a knock on her door and when she opened it, Gus stood there looking impossibly handsome in a black tuxedo and long formal coat. His dark hair was tousled as usual, and she longed (already!) to run her hands through it. He looked like he had shaved, since his usual end-of-day shadow was nowhere to be seen. Impulsively she put her hand on his cheek.
“It must really be a special evening,” she said with a smile. “No bristles tonight.”
Gus put his hand over hers. “You noticed. I don’t shave twice in one day for just anybody.” He took her hand and brushed a kiss on her palm. “In honor of the occasion, I hired a closed carriage and driver. You won’t freeze tonight, I promise.”
“I know you’ll keep me warm,” she said, then blushed as she realized what she’d implied.
Gus grinned at her embarrassment, but didn’t take it further. “If I’m good for nothing else, I do generate a lot of body heat. Lucky you.” He helped her into the carriage and sat next to her, putting his arm around her as if it were the most natural gesture in the world. “Antonelli’s,” he instructed the driver.
Antonelli’s was known for its expensive but excellent Italian food and its equally snooty waiters. For the general population, reservations were hard to come by, which explained why Lia had never been there. But Gus seemed to be a regular—at least they treated him as such. They were given a lovely table toward the back of the restaurant. A bottle of chilled wine was waiting for them as was a stern-faced waiter, who pulled out Lia’s chair. He waited while Lia took off her coat and she waited to gauge Gus’s reaction. He didn’t disappoint her.
“Hell and damnation,” he murmured, staring at her from head to toe. “You are magnificent.” Gus glanced at the waiter, who had the temerity to raise his eyebrows, look Gus in the eye, and quirk his lips. The server handed menus to each of them.
“Thank you, Louis,” Gus said dryly. “Check back in a few minutes if you would.”
“Of course, Mr. Wolff. At your service.”
The waiter stepped away and Lia hoped her blush at Gus’s perusal had died down. “You’ve obviously been here before,” she commented. “To know the waiter by name and all.”
“I’ve been here a time or two,” Gus admitted. “Truth be told, I actually helped get Louis the job. He worked in a restaurant I owned up north and decided he’d had enough of the cold.”
“Ah.” Lia looked over the menu and paused, expecting Gus to suggest something to order as he’d done at the Cliff House and Henry’s.
“See anything you like?” he asked after a few minutes.
Lia smiled. “I thought for sure you were going to tell me what’s good on the menu.”
Gus chuckled and shook his head. “I was so nervous that first day that I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Now that I look back on it, it was pretty pushy of me to order for you. What if you hadn’t liked fish?” He shrugged. “I’ve eaten here a lot and never been disappointed, so order whatever you like. It’s your birthday, after all.”
Lia couldn’t help grinning. The man paid attention! She remembered the times her father, and then George, had quietly expressed their disapproval when she dared to order something they didn’t feel she should have. If it were up to them she would have subsisted on salad and chicken breasts for eternity. She closed the menu. “All right, then, I’ll have the lasagna with lots and lots of sourdough bread.”
She found Gus beaming at her and it was as if his warmth shot straight through to her heart. Her whole being lit up, and in that moment she felt right, as if she were the most important person in the world to him, and he to her. It might not be true, but tonight, tonight she was going to pretend it was.
“A woman after my own heart,” he said lightly. He made a show of looking at her figure again. “Course, I don’t know where you’re gonna put it all, but I’m not complaining. I love leftovers.”
“Leftovers? Ha! I can pack it away, just you watch.”
Gus gazed at her, a slow smile crossing his face. “I’ll make you a bet: if you finish that lasagna, you can ask a favor of me; if you don’t, I can ask a favor of you.”
“It’s a deal,” Lia said, too quickly as it turned out. Unbeknownst to her, Antonelli’s was known for providing enormous portions. Lia’s serving of lasagna was easily large enough to serve a family of four.
“Not fair,” she complained when Louis brought her entree. She had already eaten a delicious tortellini soup, antipasto salad, and two pieces of her beloved sourdough; in truth she could have easily passed on the lasagna altogether.
“Is there something wrong, madam?” Louis looked alarmed; Antonelli’s prided itself on never leaving a customer dissatisfied.
“Oh. Oh no. Nothing is wrong. It looks…delicious,” she ass
ured him.
“I bet her she couldn’t finish it,” Gus said.
“And she’s never been here before?”
Gus grinned and shook his head.
“Quite unsporting of you, sir,” Louis said with a sniff. The waiter then turned to Lia. “I hope you didn’t place too high a wager, Miss. Mr. Wolff is known for collecting his debts.”
“Good bye, Louis,” Gus said.
Lia looked at Gus, who shrugged and went back to eating the ravioli he’d ordered. “I suppose I forgot to tell you Antonelli’s is known by businessmen around town as Lucky’s.”
“Why Lucky’s?”
Gus chuckled. “Because when you dine here, you’re guaranteed to take a tasty piece of something home with you.”
“That’s terrible!” Lia feigned righteous indignation, fighting back a smile. She pointed her fork at Gus. “I think I’ve been hoodwinked.”
“Yes, ma’am, you surely have.” Gus couldn’t hide his own smirk.
“Well, what favor are you going to ask of me?”
“Still thinking about it,” he said. “But don’t get all stubborn on me and try to eat it all. What you don’t finish we’ll take home…as leftovers.”
Lia couldn’t help laughing. And loving the sound of the words “we’ll take home.” As the dinner progressed she found herself tumbling headlong into the kind of love she’d worried about since she’d met him. Gus talked openly about his family and his work, and over a dessert of tiramisu he brought up the topic that even Sandy avoided this time of year.
“So what did you send your son Georgie for his birthday?”
Lia stopped eating and looked up at him. Strangely, she didn’t feel like bursting into tears; she felt…comfortable. Comfortable talking about her son, whom she wasn’t able to be with, with a man who faced the same situation with his daughter. “A…a train set,” she said. “Em said he’d been asking for one and I thought he might like it.”
The Art of Love: Origins of Sinner's Grove Page 18