Julianne crossed her arms. “It takes more than biology to be a mother. Francesca will agree with me.”
Jake watched the high color flame across Lisa’s cheekbones. He frowned. “Why don’t we call a truce and tell Francie she has company?”
Julianne turned back to the stove. “You be the bearer of bad news. I’d rather not.”
Jake was shaken. Whatever had happened between these two women was personal. His mother was acting like a stranger. Normally, she wasn’t prone to snap decisions or poor judgment. Impulse control was something she’d drummed into her children at every relevant occasion. What was the matter with her? What had Lisa DeAngelo done to bring out such a vitriolic reaction after more than twenty years? Not for a minute did he believe his mother was the source. It just wasn’t possible.
“I think I’ll stay a while if you don’t mind,” said Lisa. She smiled at Jake. “Is there a guest room?”
Jake looked at his mother. She was removing the puff pastries from the tray, her entire focus on the food. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
At the winery, Francesca was working the Cabernet must, punching down the skins to mix with the juice. Concentrating on her task, she didn’t hear the door open or the sound of footsteps on the concrete floor of the cave. It wasn’t until Jake stepped into her line of vision that she realized she wasn’t alone.
“Hi,” she said, looking up. “I thought you were pulling up the dead Syrah vines.”
“I was. It’s four o’clock.”
“Are you finished already?”
“Not quite. I came home for a late lunch. Need any help?”
She shook her head, turned off the paddle and smiled at him. He looked so earnest and familiar and comfortable. Objectively, Francesca knew that Jake was a good-looking man. Sometimes it hit her when she was least expecting it, just how handsome he was. But that wasn’t what she thought of when he came to mind. The essence of Jake wasn’t his looks. It was his intensity that had attracted her, his focus, his desire to stretch farther than the last time, to break his own record. Jake didn’t recognize limitations. He was quite simply the most exciting person she’d ever met. He was funny and wise, shamelessly happy and had been since kindergarten. The realization that there wasn’t anyone as interesting or attractive as her ex-husband could also be a drawback. “And you couldn’t stay away?” she asked.
“Not exactly.”
Something was wrong. He was definitely uncomfortable. She straightened her shoulders. “What is it, Jake?”
He took her hand and, leaning against the long bench that ran along the walls of the wine cave, pulled her toward him until she stood between the vee of his legs. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“You’re making me nervous. Just say it.”
“All right. Francie.” He spoke slowly, without expression. “Your mother is here. She’s at the house now.”
She stared at him. “My mother?”
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible,” she said flatly.
“I know, but it’s true.”
“Why is she here?”
“I’m not sure. She didn’t volunteer a reason. It’s possible that she wanted to see you.”
“After twenty-four years?” Francesca’s eyes were very bright. “I don’t think so.”
“People change, Francie. Especially when they get older. They realize how important family is.”
“Not my mother.”
Jake sighed. “This is going to be a difficult evening. My mother hates her and apparently you aren’t going to make it any easier. I guess Nick and I will have to hold down the fort.”
“I don’t want Nick to have anything to do with her.”
“He’s going to be polite. She’s a guest in his home. You wouldn’t want him to behave any other way.”
Francesca shivered. “I know this sounds strange, but if it were anyone else I’d agree with you. She’s different.”
“You’ve only heard that from others. You haven’t experienced it yourself. Give her a chance. Maybe you only got one side of the story.”
“I haven’t heard from her in twenty-four years, Jake. What kind of mother would absent herself from her children’s lives for that long?”
“Maybe she was driven away. You haven’t heard her side.”
“Are you on her side?”
“I’m on your side, Francie,” he said softly. “Don’t you think I know what it was like for you not to have a mother?”
“I had your mother.”
“It’s not the same. You know it’s not the same. You should have had your own.”
“Whose fault is it that I didn’t?” she countered.
He sighed. “All right. Have it your way.”
She ground her fists into her hip bones. “Why are you championing her cause?”
“I told you. I want you to have your mother.”
“There’s more to it. Tell me. What’s your stake in this?”
He looked at her. “You really have no idea, do you?”
“No.”
His words came out in a rush of embarrassed logic. “Maybe if you could forgive your mother, it would be easier for you to forgive me.”
She stared at him. “How I feel about you has nothing to do with how I feel about my mother.”
“Maybe not,” he admitted. “But think about it. Two very important people in your life, your mother and your husband, bailed on you. It’s no wonder you’re afraid to trust anyone. I wouldn’t either.”
“I’m not afraid,” she said slowly, “but I’m not gullible either. My mother has made no effort to contact me, not ever. She’s never been a part of my life. Our situation, yours and mine, is different. People divorce, Jake. That’s sad, but not unusual. Our relationship is conditional upon certain behaviors. A mother leaving her children is unusual, as well as tragic, because her love for them should be unconditional. Do you see the difference?”
“Yes,” he said after a minute. “When you put it that way, I do.”
“I could never leave Nick or stop loving him, no matter what he did.”
“But you could stop loving me.”
“Yes,” she said, looking away from the pain in his face. “People do it all the time. They grow apart. They fall out of love. They meet someone else. Once, you were my husband. Now, you’re not. We can both marry again and someone else would be your wife and my husband. With children it’s different. I’m the only mother Nick will ever have. That relationship is unique to the two of us.”
“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” he asked. “It isn’t something you just came up with.”
She shrugged. “I’ve been seeing a therapist for about two years. I think I’m finally making a breakthrough.”
“Where does that leave us?” he asked softly.
She smiled. “Exactly where we were before this conversation began. We’re reevaluating. I’m talking longer than you, that’s all.”
“Why is that?”
“Maybe because I didn’t start thinking we could ever get back together until you came back with your broken bone. You dumped me, remember? I didn’t think I had a choice. You always had one. For a long time I wanted you to come back. You knew that.”
“When did you change your mind?”
“After the divorce was final. I was miserable. I’d never gone through anything so painful in my life.”
“I don’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ seems like such an understatement.”
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. He was so bad with cues. She wanted reassurance and promises and most of all, she didn’t want to always tell him what she wanted. “It is an understatement, a pathetic one,” she agreed.
“What do you want from me, Francie?”
“I don’t know.”
He reached for her, but she stepped back. “I can’t give you the magic words that will put us back together, minus the problems we had. I’ll know when I hear them. That’s the be
st I can do.”
Jake chose his words carefully. “I want to ask you a question, but I don’t want you to lose your temper. Can we agree on that?”
“Go ahead.”
“Are you holding off because you want to do to me what I did to you?”
She thought a minute before answering. “I don’t think so. If I am, it isn’t intentional. Life’s too short for vengeful paybacks. I don’t want to keep score anymore. I don’t think a marriage benefits from that kind of mentality.” She hesitated. “I’ve decided that the next time I marry, if there is a next time, I’m going to be a completely different kind of wife. I’m not there yet, Jake. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to wait for me, especially when there are no guarantees. That’s up to you.”
“Can you at least tell me if I have the inside track?”
She smiled. “Of course you have the inside track. You have the entire track.”
He reached out and gently tugged her braid. “Then, I’ll wait.”
A rush of relief, so intense that she swayed on her feet, swept through her. She nodded and would have turned away, but he pulled her back into his arms and tucked her head under his chin. “Whatever happens,” he said gruffly, “you’re my best friend, Francie. That won’t change.”
Twenty-Five
Francesca climbed the front porch slowly. At the door she hesitated. How many times had she anticipated her mother’s homecoming? Too many to count. Why, then, was she dreading their inevitable first meeting? Twisting the knob, she opened the door and listened. Nothing. Careful to make as little noise as possible, she crept down the hall and peeked into the living room. Still nothing. Both the dining room and the large family room were also empty. Could Lisa be in the kitchen with Julianne? She highly doubted it.
“Hello,” she called out. “Is anyone home?”
Julianne’s voice called from the kitchen. “In here. I’m just finishing up.”
Francesca walked into the kitchen.
Her mother-in-law sat at the table holding a mug, staring out the window. Her apron hung over a chair. The collar of her white, button-down shirt was pristine. Her sleeves were rolled up to the elbow and her capri pants still had their early-morning crease. Julianne always looked tidy no matter what time it was.
Francesca sat down across from her. “Are you done for the day?”
Julianne continued to stare out the window. “Yes.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you just sitting during a workday. Is something wrong?”
“Something is very wrong, Frances.” Julianne met the younger woman’s worried gaze. “I know it sounds ridiculous because it’s been such a long time, but I honestly thought I’d never see your mother again. Now that I have, everything’s come back and I don’t quite know how to handle it.”
Francesca’s eyebrows lifted. “That was a mouthful. I know what she’s done to Chris and me, but what has she done to you?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Because I don’t know her. Because I’ll get the truth from you.”
Julianne’s jaw relaxed. She reached across the table and squeezed Francesca’s hand. “Bless you for that. This isn’t your fault. I’m not upset with you. It all happened a long time ago. Better to let it rest.”
“Where is she?”
“Doing what she does best.” Julianne couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “Resting in the blue guest room.”
Francesca looked at her watch. “It’s science-club night for Nick. That gives me about an hour before he gets home.” Sighing, she stood. “I’d like to get this over with before he shows up.”
Julianne’s jaw was tight again. “I don’t want her to stay, Frances.”
“For the night or permanently?”
“Neither, but one night is negotiable.”
Francesca bent to kiss her mother-in-law’s cheek. “I’ll tell her. Don’t worry about dinner. I can cook, or would you rather we go out?”
Julianne nodded. “Take her out. That would be best for all of us.”
Francesca passed the door to the guest room and climbed the stairs to her own bedroom. She showered quickly, changed into fitted navy slacks and a white sweater, brushed out her hair, swiped lip gloss across her lips, replaced her small gold hoops with pearl studs, glanced in the mirror and pronounced herself ready. With her shoulders back, she descended the stairs and knocked firmly on the door to her mother’s room.
At first there was no answer. She lifted her fist to knock again, when the door opened and Francesca looked at her mother’s face for the first time in twenty-four years. The shock of recognition startled her. She was a little girl when Lisa disappeared from her life, and her father tolerated no pictures, but still Francesca would have known her anywhere.
“Hello,” she said softly. “I’m Francesca.”
Lisa, her hand at her throat, nodded and stepped aside. “Would you like to come in?”
Francesca hesitated, noting the gauzy shift her mother wore that couldn’t be anything else but sleep-wear, the bed-tousled hair and dilated pupils, the pulled draperies. “I woke you. I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”
Lisa shook her head. “No. Come in, please. I was hoping you’d come. There are a few things we should clear up and it’s better that we do it without an audience.”
She waited until Francesca was seated in one of the wingback chairs near the window. Then she pulled the drapes aside and sat down across from her. “Let me look at you.”
Francesca blushed, but allowed the inspection. She was doing the same. After a long minute, Lisa sat back in her chair. “My goodness. We’re a great deal alike. I didn’t expect that. Your brother is all Frank.”
“You’ve seen Chris?”
“We’ve communicated occasionally over the years.”
“How is he?”
“Managing, Francesca, just managing. Your father left him money, not a lot, but enough to get by.” She laughed bitterly. “Certainly it’s more than he left me.”
Francesca, familiar with the provisions of her father’s estate, kept silent.
Lisa reached for her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. It was empty. “Damn.” She looked at Francesca hopefully. “Do you smoke?”
“No.”
Lisa sighed. “I should have known you wouldn’t have vices.”
Francesca ignored the comment. “What made you decide to come back?”
The green eyes flickered and lowered. Francesca noticed that her mother’s nails were ragged and bitten.
“I won’t insult you by saying I’ve had an attack of nostalgia,” Lisa began. “Frankly, I was miserable here. I left with nothing. If I’d had more than a suitcase of clothes, I would have done more for you and your brother, but your father wouldn’t allow it. He wanted me out of your lives, permanently.” Again, she fixed her glass-green eyes on her daughter’s face. “Money is power, Francesca. He had the power and I didn’t. I’m back because he’s gone.”
“He’s been gone for quite some time.”
The corners of Lisa’s mouth lifted. “You’re no shrinking violet, are you?”
Francesca didn’t answer.
“I’ve had some bad luck,” Lisa admitted. “I’m between things right now. I was hoping you’d take me in and I could catch my breath.”
“You want to stay here at the house with us?” There was no mistaking the dismay in Francesca’s voice.
“Not for long, a week, maybe two.”
Francesca lifted her hands to her cheeks. Her skin felt hot. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “It’s not up to me.”
Lisa’s back straightened. “Why not? Didn’t Frank leave the house to you?”
“We had some bad years,” Francesca explained. “There was a glut of grapes and no buyers. Jake and I expanded the winery to produce more of our own wines. Julianne gave us money, remodeled the kitchen and started her catering business. I’m the sole owner of the vineyard, but that’s all.” She saw no need
to tell her mother that she had agreed to mortgage the winery.
“In other words, Julianne needs to give her permission.”
“Julianne and Jake,” Francesca amended.
“Somehow, I don’t think Jake will be a problem,” Lisa said dryly. She leaned forward. “Do you want me to stay?”
Francesca looked into her mother’s beautiful face, at the arched eyebrows and the faint age lines radiating from her eyes, at the sharply defined bones, thick hair and olive skin. This was her mother, the woman who’d given her life. Would there ever be another chance to know her? “Yes,” she said. “I do.”
Lisa’s eyes gleamed. She sat back in her chair. “Well, then. We’ll just have to convince Julianne, won’t we?”
“It might be difficult.”
A slight, satisfied smile flickered across Lisa’s face. “Leave it to me.”
Julianne zipped her boots, dabbed perfume behind her ears, grabbed her jacket from the closet and ran downstairs. Jake was just coming in.
“Whoa,” he said, reaching out to clasp her shoulders. “Where are you going?”
“Out for dinner.”
“What about us?”
“You’re grown-ups, Jake,” she said sharply. “I work a full day, too. You can make your own dinner on occasion.”
“Jeez, Ma, don’t bite my head off. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Julianne softened. “I believe Francesca is taking Nick and her mother out. You’ll have to ask if you’re included.”
Jake studied his mother’s face. “Why aren’t you included?”
“I chose not to be. Obviously, as you’ve probably noticed, there’s no love lost between Lisa and me.”
“I noticed. I’d like to know why.”
Julianne shook her head. “I’d rather not rehash all that again. It was a long time ago.”
“It’s affecting you now.”
She looked at her watch. “I’m late, Jake.”
He looked at his mother’s face. It was a youthful face, fine-boned, exotic, filled with purpose, dignity and character, nothing like the seductive and slightly dissipated beauty of Lisa DeAngelo, a brunette whose eyes and legs never gave out. He stepped aside. “Drive carefully.”
A Delicate Finish Page 23
