by Mary Campisi
“I think that’s it, Max.” Aunt Frances’s lawyer nodded. “I’ll be in touch in a month and we’ll go from there.” He paused, said in a gentle voice, “I know I don’t need to say this, but I’m going to anyway. Frances was a kind soul with a good heart who wanted those she cared about to find happiness. She told me she wished someone had given her the opportunity with a list like this because it might have opened her eyes and helped her make different choices. Nobody will know if you complete one, all, or none of these, but I think we all owe it to Frances Eugenia Romano to honor our word and fulfill her request.”
“I gave my word, Joe. I’m not going back on it.” Max stood, held out a hand. “Nice to see you again. I’ll see you in a month.”
Grace stood, too, shook the man’s hand. “I’m in, too. I can’t say I’m happy with some of the choices, but I won’t back out.”
Joseph Ingram smiled, nodded. “And who knows, you might just be surprised by the results.”
* * *
Cook dinner together four times a week
Grocery shop weekly
Dinner at Harry’s Folly
Make each other breakfast
Go to the movies
Watch the sunset at Boone’s Peak
Make pizzelles
Clean out the garage
Sit in the dark and talk for twenty minutes
Plant perennials in the backyard garden
Read a book
Play cards
Paint the living room and hallway
* * *
“There sure are a lot of food-related items on this list.” Grace bit into the ham and Swiss on rye Max had fixed and tried to put the list in order, starting with the most palatable and ending with the ones she dreaded. Watch the sunset at Boone’s Peak shifted to dead last.
Max set a glass of iced tea on the table next to her and sat down. “Your aunt was big on food; buying it, preparing it, sharing it… Figures she’d make it a priority since she enjoyed it so much.”
“I guess.” Aunt Frances used to make Grace homemade beef soup with tiny meatballs, and pasta with broccoli and bits of bacon. “So, do you think we can count sandwiches and a fruit cup toward the ‘cook dinner together’?”
He scowled. “I’m not shortcutting Frances’s requests. Are you really trying to cheat your way out of this?”
“Cheat my way out of it? Of course not. I was only trying to lighten the mood.”
The left side of his jaw twitched. “Look, I don’t want to be in this situation any more than you do, but we’re stuck with each other for the next thirty days.” Those blue eyes glittered. “On day thirty-one, you can pack up and head out of here and you’ll never have to see me again.” His voice turned hard, fierce. “But until then, we’ve got to stick together and get through this because Frances deserves it.”
Max was right; all they had to do was get through thirty days and then they’d never have to see one another again. How horrible could that be? They just needed a few ground rules, and she’d thought of them last night as sleep eluded her. “I agree, but we have to set up ground rules, and we have to follow them.”
He sipped his iced tea, studied her. “Ground rules? Ah, there’s the Grace Romano I remember. Filled with rules that give a guy a headache.” He sighed. “Let’s hear these rules.”
She clenched her napkin in her hand, sat up straight. Acting like she was in control gave her the confidence to take control. Creative visualization and all that. Wasn’t that what Elliot had told her? Grace blew out a breath and removed a small piece of paper from her back pocket. “Here’s what I have so far. It’s open for negotiation, so let me know if there’s anything you’d like to discuss.”
Max tapped his fingers on the table, nodded. “Will do.”
Grace scanned the paper, read, “The past must remain in the past. No comments or references. No use of endearments, or—” she stumbled over her next words “—manipulation of memories…”
“Manipulation of memories?” He stared at her. “What the hell is that?”
She pursed her lips, pushed out an explanation. “Saying things to elicit a certain emotion in the other party.”
He swore under his breath. Twice. “English, please?”
“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” She huffed. “Don’t drop little comments about how you loved to kiss the sensitive spot behind my ear until I giggled, or how you thought my hair felt like silk when I brushed it over your belly…or how I tasted like strawberries when you kissed me…or when—”
“Enough.” He pushed back the chair, stood. “I’ll pretend I’m a eunuch without a memory; would that make you happy? What are you so afraid of, Grace? Huh? Because from where I’m standing you don’t look happy at all. In fact, you look miserable, and I have to wonder if it has to do with the husband who died, or if you were miserable before that.”
“Stop it.” She sucked in a small breath. “You don’t know anything about me or my life.”
“No, you’re right about that,” he shot back. “But I sense fear and bitterness, and we’ve only spent a few hours together.” Max moved toward her, stopped when he was a touch away. “What happened to the girl with the big dreams, the one who was going to own the world? Where’d she go?”
Grace tried to shut down the words and the man who saw too much. “Don’t. Please.”
He held up his hands, said in a quiet voice. “I’d never hurt you, Grace. If you don’t want to remember anything else about me, at least remember that.”
* * *
Pop pulled a weed from his garden, tossed it in a bucket. In another week, he and Lily would harvest the last of tomatoes, dig up the plants, and put the area to rest for the winter. He lifted his face to the sky, squinted. There was nothing like fresh air and working in the dirt to clear a person’s head, make him forget his troubles, or make the troubles shrink in half.
Maybe Pete Finnegan and Elissa Cerdi should try digging around in the soil because Lord knew, they needed some kind of help or there wasn’t going to be a Christmas wedding. Dang, there might not be a wedding at all! That would sure make Dolly Finnegan sad, seeing as she’d waited years for her son to settle down with the right woman. No doubt, Elissa was the one, but there was a lot of past that had caught up with her and leaked out, like the fact that she’d been the delivery person for quite a few of Gloria Blacksworth’s letters.
When a person said that Blacksworth woman’s name, they made the sign of the cross before and after, and it always fell out like they tasted a bad batch of minestrone. And now, when the town said Elissa Cerdi’s name, it got the same reaction.
Only worse.
Didn’t matter the two people who’d been hurt the most by Gloria Blacksworth had forgiven and befriended Elissa. Nope. As upstanding as Nate and Christine Desantro might be, there were others who insisted they never should have been put in a position that almost cost them their marriage, and anybody who thought Gloria Blacksworth was a decent, trustworthy person was a poor judge of character.
At first, Pop ignored the chatter from the likes of Rex MacGregor and his cohorts when it buzzed in his ear, but when the chatter swarmed around him one morning during his weekly breakfast with Harry Blacksworth, he knew it was time to step in and remind these people that nobody is all innocent or all guilty. He thought about writing a piece in the Magdalena Press about judgment and giving people a second chance, but he’d only penned two lines when Pete Finnegan showed up at his door late one afternoon.
“I’m losing her, Pop. I can feel it.”
“Nah, boy, Elissa loves you. I see the way she looks at you, like the sun, stars, and moon sit in your hand.”
He shook his head, dragged a hand over his face. “She believes what people say: that she’s not good enough for me, that she’ll end up breaking my heart…that she doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong. I can’t get through to her, and now she’s gotten crazy-jealous when I talk to a woman. She says it reminds her of her
ex-fiancé and how he cheated, and then she cries and says I’d be better off with someone else…”
“Sounds like the poor girl’s hurting. You know, as happy as I was to hear you’d found your one-and-only, I was a bit concerned that it happened so fast, away from the real world. The test of true love is facing the day-to-day living and doing it side-by-side, never giving up or losing faith, no matter what. You and Elissa are being tested, and right now, you aren’t passing.”
“Tell me about it.” He let out a sigh that lasted a good ten seconds. “What can I do, Pop?”
“You gotta talk. And don’t give up. You have to set the groundwork for all the years to come, because some of those years are bound to be full of heartache and disappointment. That’s called living, but as long as you’re together and you believe in each other, you got a chance to make it.”
He looked at the portrait of his wife hanging above the mantel, said in a voice that wobbled with emotion, “It’s when the Good Lord takes her away that makes you wonder how you’re going to keep walking this earth without her. You see her everywhere, hear her voice, and you would do anything to turn back the clock and get a few more hours with her. But you can’t. And you know what?” He placed a hand over his heart. “One day, you realize she lives inside you, in every breath you take, every thought, every action. She hears you and you hear her, and that’s how you get through your days.” One very long pause, followed by the nugget that could help them. “Don’t wait, Pete. Work it out with Elissa, eyeball to eyeball, and promise each other that no matter what, you’re in it together.”
The boy had listened, and Pop noticed his eyes grew bright a few times like he might shed a tear if nobody were watching. Of course, he didn’t, but the emotion was there, no denying that. Now it was time to talk to Elissa and point out that every couple has their trials at some point in a relationship, often several trials, but it’s how they handle them that counts. That’s what gives the relationship the “stickiness” to survive. He didn’t need to grab a pen and paper to jot down examples because they sat in his head like big reminders of love gone right. Yup, that’s what he liked to call the outcome of couples who didn’t give up at the first, second, or third sign of a problem. Love gone right. Had a nice ring to it.
Pop eased back in his chair, folded his hands over his belly and closed his eyes. Images of the lucky couples in mind floated through his brain. Nate and Christine Desantro…Ben and Gina Reed…Cash and Tess Casherdon…Harry and Greta Blacksworth… And those were only the people in this town. What about the ones who left? There was Michael and Elise Androvich, Roman and Angie Ventori. A smile slipped across his face. And then there was his son, Tony and his wife, Ramona, the couple who flitted around the country, took cruises, and excursions…visited the Vatican, the Louvre, and a bunch of other must-see places, and always landed back in Magdalena. Tony and Ramona had known their share of heartache over many years, but they finally found their way back to each other. Amen to that. Did Elissa Cerdi want to give up her man to someone else for the next thirty years like Ramona had done?
Doubtful, but there was a way to find out.
Of course, he could tell her about the new heartache in town: Max Ruhland and Grace Clarke. Their story might provide a good amount of intrigue and a bit of swoon, especially when he told her the two had been sweethearts years ago until fate and circumstance separated them. He might leave out the part where Grace didn’t think Max was good enough for her and broke it off. That tidbit was all speculation on her aunt’s part, but Pop bet she’d been right. Too often, people judged others by what they saw and discounted what they didn’t see, like will, determination, integrity, and honor. Max Ruhland had these traits, and he had compassion, too. A man didn’t leave his job, fly cross-country, and move in with a dying person to ease her passing unless there was real compassion there. And love. Pop swiped at his eyes. Didn’t matter that Max could do his job from any spot in the country; the boy had made his choice to do it here until Frances passed.
Grace had misjudged the boy; a lot of people had; a lot of people still did. Many thought he was a wanderer who knew how to tear apart an engine but didn’t have enough gumption to make a living at it. Ha, if they only knew the boy had built an empire around his knowledge of cars, they’d sure be surprised. But other than Nate Desantro, Cash Casherdon, and Pop, nobody knew the truth, and nobody was going to find out because Max said too many people judged a person’s value by their net worth. Pop liked Max’s grit, indeed he did, but there’d come a time when the boy would have to tell Grace the whole story about who he was and what he did for a living.
Pop helped Frances come up with the idea of the thirty-day plan for Max and Grace, and together, they’d conjured up all sorts of tests involving communication, working together, and the invasion of personal space. What those two really needed was time alone to get to know each other again, see if they liked what they discovered. Pop’s gut told him they belonged together like garlic and olive oil, but they’d have to find that out for themselves.
In the meantime, he’d wait and watch on the sidelines…
4
Nate Desantro was a die-hard-by-the-book kind of guy who, once a friend remained a friend, no matter what. He and Max had known each other a long time, had sat across the kitchen table as teenagers chowing down spaghetti and meatballs or devouring chocolate chip cookies hot out of the oven. The smell of a chocolate chip cookie brought back memories of those days and a time he might not have survived if it hadn’t been for Nate and his mother. People had a lot to say about Nate’s mother after she took up with a married guy and had a kid, but to Max, she’d always be his guardian angel. What else did you call a person who made sure you ate a solid meal, had clean clothes to wear and a haircut?
His parents hadn’t cared if he ate beef jerky and licorice for dinner or drank a pitcher of sweet tea. Sonya and Edgar Ruhland were too busy boozing it up, swimming in their own misery to bother about Max, otherwise known as the mistake that changed the direction of their lives. Your father and I had big plans to head to Vegas, work the tables, live the life. But then you happened, and we had to change our plans. How could we raise a kid in a casino? His mother usually spilled her disappointment when she was four drinks into the bottle, but his father didn’t need liquor to let him know he was to blame for the bad luck in their lives.
Nate and his mother saved Max and introduced him to Frances Romano, a spinster schoolteacher with a big heart and a yard that needed maintenance. The maintenance part was where Max came in and that’s where he met Frances’s niece the summer before senior year.
“When were you going to tell me your ex-girlfriend’s back in town?”
Nate’s words jolted Max back to the magazine he’d been reading about a new exhaust system that helps the engine “breathe” better. He kept his eyes trained on the article, and if he concentrated, he could almost block out the tone in Nate’s voice that said ticked-off-and-annoyed. Each of the exhaust components is designed for smoother airflow and reduced constrictions, leading to better engine performance.
“Well?”
No sense ignoring a guy like Nate because he wasn’t going away. Max shrugged, flipped a page. “Didn’t know you were keeping track of my ex-girlfriends.”
“I don’t, just the one you drove three hundred miles to see and didn’t tell her you were coming. You know, Grace, the one who dumped you.”
“Oh, yeah, now I remember.” Max forced the emotion from his voice. “Only because she’s the only one who ever dumped me. Her loss.”
“Right.” Nate shot him a look and took a swig of beer.
Max had stopped by Nate’s workshop to get his thoughts on building a storage unit for the garage. Nate gave him a few ideas and then conveniently segued to Max’s current living situation with Frances Romano’s niece. How was Max going to explain that when he didn’t understand it himself?
“I would have told you that trip was a mistake, but you never asked. Nope, j
ust gassed up the Chevelle and took off, left Frances in a stew when she found your note. Did you really think Grace was going to pack a bag, say goodbye to her parents, and leave with you that night?”
“Of course not.” He’d figured she’d need a day or two to get things together, and she’d want to introduce him to her folks…and maybe they’d offer him a room for the night… Hell, he hadn’t known what to expect, but he hadn’t thought the girl who stole every waking and sleeping moment, plus his common sense, would flat-out refuse him.
Nate studied him a little too closely. The guy wasn’t big on words, but he sure knew how to drill down and get the nuggets from the ore. He’d gotten better at it these past several years, and no doubt it had to do with his choice of a wife. Much better than the last one. Max sighed, sipped his beer. “Why are you looking at me like you can see right inside my head?”
His friend grinned. “Easy to do when there’s not much in there.”
“Jerk.”
“I’m thinking about how you’re trying to avoid this whole conversation. I know the signs. I’ve done it a time or two myself, so has Cash, and a few of my other buddies. And guess what?” His lips twitched. “It almost always has to do with a woman. Like right now, this avoidance is about Grace, only you don’t want to admit it. Just like you probably don’t want to admit that only a fool would drive hundreds of miles to see his girlfriend without telling her. Maybe he thinks of it as a surprise, but maybe he’s afraid she’ll tell him not to come.” He paused, waited for Max to comment, and when he got nothing more than a cold stare, he went on. “Or maybe he’s just head-over-heels in love and his common sense is in a holding pattern.”
“A fool or a fool in love? Hmm…”
Nate laughed. “Exactly.”
Max closed the magazine, tossed it on the workbench and sighed. “Do you have a point to all of this? You’re talking about something that happened when I was seventeen.”
