Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1

by Freethy, Barbara

  The man in front of her wasn't the father she remembered from those days. He hadn't bothered to wash his face or brush his hair. She wasn't even sure when he'd last taken a shower or gone in to work. She certainly hadn't seen him at the cafe in days. What on earth was he doing with his time? As she watched him drink his orange juice, she knew she had her answer.

  Clearing her throat, she said, "Why don't I make us some breakfast? Would you like scrambled eggs, an omelet, maybe some pancakes?"

  He leaned against the counter and gave her a bleary smile. "Your mother used to make pancakes, blueberry pancakes. Those were her favorite."

  "I know," she said gently.

  He sipped his juice halfway down the glass, licking his lips at the end. She should say something, but the words didn't want to come. Instead, she said, "I could try to make blueberry pancakes. I might have to run down to the store and get some berries, though." She got up from her chair and looked through his cabinets. She was shocked to see how empty they were. "Dad, you don't have any food in the house. What have you been eating?"

  "Your aunts take care of me," he said with a shrug. "I don't feel like cooking anymore."

  Which meant a lot coming from a man who made his living running a restaurant and prided himself on turning out good, quality food. "Is that why you haven't been down at the restaurant lately?"

  "I'm tired of working," he said heavily. "Tired of so many things." He walked over to the table and sat down.

  "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  He shook his head. "I'll be all right. I'm worried about you and Julia. I think she should stay here, too, although I'm sure Michael wants to take care of her."

  Liz saw the question in his eyes and damned Julia for once again not being here to do her own dirty work. She returned to her chair, trying to think of what to say. In the end, she just gave it to him straight. "Michael and Julia broke up last night."

  Her father appeared truly shocked by the news. "What?" he stuttered. "How? Why?"

  She didn't know which question to answer first. "I'm not sure why, but certainly Julia's push to find the missing pieces of her past didn't help. After Michael saw our apartment last night, he begged her to give up the search. She said she couldn't. She's obsessed, Dad, determined to find the truth. The past twenty-something years don't matter to her as much as the first three or four years of her life that she can't remember. And she seems to have forgotten how good Michael was to her through Mom's illness and how perfect Mom thought Michael was for her." Liz blew out a breath of frustration. "I don't get it. I can't understand why she'd let him go. Maybe he was rushing her a bit, but good grief, they've been together over a year. It's not exactly lightning speed."

  "Your mother would be disappointed," Gino said. "And not just in Julia, but in me. I've let my daughter down."

  "How do you figure that?"

  "I should have paid more attention to what Julia was doing. I should have guided her more."

  "It's not your fault. It's Julia's. She's the one making these foolish decisions. She really hurt Michael. I went to his house last night. He was drinking himself into oblivion." As she said the words, Liz wondered if her father would see the parallel between Michael and himself. They were both choosing to dull their pain with alcohol. The problem was that once the alcohol wore off, the pain came back.

  Gino didn't appear to make the connection. He finished his juice and got up to make another drink. She should say something, she told herself again. But right now her dad was the only one she had to talk to, and that would end if she attacked his drinking.

  "Julia is changing right before my eyes," Liz continued. "Can't you make her stop, Dad? I think she'd listen to you."

  He put up a hand. "I can't make her stop. I don't know who her biological father is, but if she is determined to find him, then she should be allowed to do so."

  "It's disrespectful to you. You raised her. You treated her like your own daughter."

  "And that's the way I think of her. She's my daughter, and I want her to be happy. I'm sorry about Michael, though. He's a good man."

  "It's not just her biological father she's interested in," Liz continued. "It's Mom's past as well. Julia is convinced that she's that girl in the picture, which means she had to be in Russia when she was three years old. That means Mom would have had to be there, too. How could that have happened?"

  Gino gave a helpless shake of his head. "I can't imagine..."

  Liz hesitated to voice her next thought, but she couldn't seem to stop it from coming out. "Do you think Mom could have adopted Julia?"

  Gino sent her an angry glare. "No," he said firmly. "Absolutely not. It's impossible. They were close, like two peas in a pod, when I met them. And Sarah would have told me if she'd adopted Julia. She was always honest. She never lied about anything. Don't you remember her telling you over and over that the truth would never get you into trouble—only a lie would do that?"

  Liz nodded. She remembered that well. Now she couldn't help wondering if different rules had applied to her mother. "There has to be some reason why Julia looks like that girl."

  "It's a coincidence," he said, pouring more orange juice. "Julia was four years old when I met her. I would have noticed if she was speaking Russian."

  "That's true," Liz said, relieved. "If she was a Russian orphan, she would have been speaking Russian.

  "Of course. Why didn't I think of that? I feel so much better now."

  "Julia did have her own little odd way of talking, though," he said with a fond smile. "And she had an imaginary friend she was always whispering to."

  Liz's good mood dimmed. "What do you mean, her own way of talking?"

  "She'd jumble up words so sometimes they didn't make sense. It was just a phase she went through. It passed. I'm sure you did the same thing. You know how kids talk."

  "Yeah, you're probably right." She stiffened as the buzzer rang in the apartment. "I'll get it." She walked over to the intercom. "Yes?"

  "It's Julia. Can you let me up?"

  Liz pushed the button and glanced over at her father in time to see him pour more vodka into his glass. She drew in a breath and walked out to the living room to answer the door. She wasn't surprised to see Alex standing behind Julia. The two seemed to be joined at the hip these days.

  "Hi," Julia said, offering her a tentative smile. "How are you, Lizzie? I called you a couple of times last night, but you never answered your phone."

  "I was busy. I do have a life, too, you know."

  "How's Dad?" Julia asked, as she and Alex entered the apartment. "I want to talk to him."

  "You better talk to him soon. He's in the kitchen sipping vodka and orange juice."

  "It's nine o'clock in the morning."

  Liz shrugged. "He's a little bothered by all the turmoil. You know, break-ins, pictures in the newspaper, his oldest daughter searching for her past in Russia, of all places."

  Julia's mouth tightened. "You don't have to be sarcastic, Liz. I know this is very upsetting for everyone, especially you and Dad."

  "And Michael. He was also drinking last night." Liz sent Alex a sharp look. "You better watch yourself. Julia has a way of driving all the men in her life to drink."

  "Liz!"

  "I'm sorry, but it's true." Liz felt a twinge of remorse for her harsh words, but she didn't intend to apologize to Julia. Her sister was the one who had stirred up their perfectly happy lives. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you didn't want to bring trouble to Dad."

  "I don't, but I need to look through Mom's papers."

  "Julia, is that you?" Gino asked, as he stumbled into the living room. "Are you all right? I've been so worried."

  "I'm fine, Dad." Julia gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Is everything all right here?"

  "Life goes on," he said with a fatalistic shrug of his shoulders. His eyes narrowed in on Alex. "Who's your friend?"

  "I'm sorry. This is Alex Manning," Julia replied. "His father took the photo of the
orphan girl. He's helping me find the truth."

  Gino stuck out his hand, and Alex shook it. Liz couldn't believe her father was acting so welcoming. She didn't feel nearly as charitable. As far as she was concerned, Alex Manning was egging Julia on. Maybe if he hadn't been in the picture, Julia would have backed off a lot sooner.

  "Do you mind if I take a look through Mom's papers?" Julia asked her father. "It's a long shot, but maybe there's something in there."

  "Of course," he said. "I have nothing to hide. I don't think your mother did, either. She adored you. You were her baby."

  Liz was relieved to hear her father tell Julia that. Someone needed to shake up her sister, remind her of the way life used to be.

  "I know she loved me," Julia said, a troubled expression in her eyes. "But some things don't add up. I just want to make them add up."

  "I don't want your curiosity to lead you into more danger," Gino said. "You should stay here. I thought Michael was protecting you, but Liz tells me that you've split up."

  "Yes. It just wasn't working out. I know you liked him very much. But I feel sure it was the right decision for both of us."

  Gino nodded. "It's your life to live, Julia, but Michael is a good man. Your mother loved him."

  "I know she did, but I... I didn't. Not enough to marry him. That wouldn't have been fair."

  Gino sent Alex a speculative look. Her father was probably wondering the same thing she was, Liz thought—if Julia's feelings about Michael had changed with the introduction of Alex into her life.

  "I don't want to stay here," Julia added. "I don't want to put you in danger."

  "But you don't mind putting this man in danger? It's not appropriate that you're staying with him." His voice took on a sharp edge. For all his kindness, their father was traditional in his views toward men and women sleeping together before marriage.

  "Alex's apartment was broken into yesterday, too," Julia said.

  "Are you serious?" Liz asked, stunned.

  Julia nodded. "Yes, I think I was followed there."

  Liz gazed into her sister's eyes and saw regret, but Julia obviously wasn't sorry enough. "So they could be outside right now," she said, "waiting to do the same thing to this apartment. How could you come here and put Dad in danger?"

  "We weren't followed," Alex interrupted. "I'm sure of it. We took separate cars. We changed over to a friend's car in a crowded parking lot before we came here."

  Liz sniffed, determined not to let on that she was at all impressed by their cloak-and-dagger maneuvering.

  "I also told the police everything," Julia said. "They're going to be watching this apartment, too, just in case."

  "You need to stop asking questions," Liz said. "Then we'll all be safe again."

  "We won't be safe until we find what they're looking for." Julia turned back to Gino. "Are the papers in the second bedroom?"

  "Yes. The room is in chaos. I'm sorry. I haven't had the energy to clean it up. I'll let you get to it, then." He meandered down the hall to the kitchen, probably to refill his glass, Liz thought. When he was gone, she turned on Julia, her anger and resentment coming to the fore. "Dad is drinking himself to death, Julia. Don't you even care?"

  Julia took a step back in defense. "Of course I care, but I'm a little busy at the moment."

  "Too busy for your own father? That's great."

  "Liz, please."

  "Please what? He's been drinking orange juice and vodka since he got up. He hasn't been to work. He hasn't gotten dressed in days. Did you even notice?"

  "Well, you're here," Julia retorted. "Why don't you stop him, Liz? As far as I can tell, you're doing nothing. In fact, that's pretty much all you've been doing the last few months."

  Liz didn't like the way Julia had turned the tables on her. "What are you talking about?"

  "You keep waiting for everyone else to do something. You want me to stop looking for my past. You want Dad to stop drinking. You want me to intervene in that. What about you? What do you want? Ever since Mom got sick, you've been drifting along, whining about how everyone else is disappointing you. Are you going to finish college or just work at the cafe for the rest of your life? Don't you have any dreams of your own?"

  "I—I don't know." Liz felt overwhelmed by the hard-hitting questions. A flood of tears pressed against her eyes, and she forced herself to hold them back. She did not want to cry in front of Julia and Alex. But suddenly she couldn't contain her emotions, so she ran.

  She didn't stop running until she was halfway down the street. She was furious. She was hurt. Most of all she was stunned to realize that Julia was right. She stopped walking to wipe away the tears that were streaming down her face. God! Julia was right. She'd put her life on hold the second her mother had been diagnosed with cancer. She hadn't been able to see the future—because the future would be without her mother. And that was too painful to consider. In the months that had followed, she'd never taken her life off hold. She had no plan, no purpose, no nothing.

  And as she looked around, she also realized she had absolutely nowhere to go.

  * * *

  "I can't believe I just said that. I should go after her." Julia stared at the door Liz had recently slammed, feeling incredibly guilty that she'd taken out her frustration on her sister.

  "It sounded like you needed to say it."

  "I hurt her feelings."

  "Probably," Alex agreed.

  She shot him a dark look. "You're supposed to say, 'No, you didn't. Don't worry about it'."

  He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't have a sister or a sibling. I don't know the protocol."

  Frustrated, Julia waved a hand in the air. "Liz has been on me so much the past few days. She wants to run my life, and she criticizes every decision I make. I guess I got tired of it. You're lucky you're an only child."

  "I agree." He paused. "Are you going after her, or are we looking for the papers?"

  She debated for a long moment. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Making decisions had once been easy for her, probably because she'd never had anything really important to decide. Now, every day there seemed to be new, compelling, distracting choices. She'd spent most of the night before weighing the risks and benefits of inviting Alex back into his own bedroom. In the end, she'd taken the safe route and done nothing. She'd slept alone in the bed, with Alex on the couch in the living room. She was still mad at herself for that.

  One of these days she would have to do something bold, something completely out of character. Maybe she'd start with letting Liz stew awhile instead of immediately trying to be the peacemaker, as she usually did.

  "We're here. Let's search," she said decisively. "I'll talk to Liz later. Maybe if I find out something, it will be easier to make up with her."

  "Don't count on it," he said pessimistically. "I have a feeling we've just hit the tip of the iceberg. This situation is going to get worse before it gets better."

  "Thanks for that sunny thought," she said as she led him down the hall to the second bedroom.

  "I'm a realist. In my job I have to be. The camera doesn't lie."

  "But people do. And that's what we have to figure out now. Who was lying and what were they lying about?" She paused in the doorway, not surprised to see the clutter of boxes, books, and clothes. "This will take some time. At least with two of us, it will go faster."

  Alex glanced around the room. "What is all this stuff?"

  "I'm not sure. My dad sold our family home right after my mom died, and the market was so hot, the house sold in a day. We put some things in storage, because we weren't up to going through it all. I guess the office stuff and my parents' bedroom things are what's in here. Where should we start?"

  "Let's work our way into the room."

  She knelt down and opened the first box. "It's weird how in the end our lives boil down to things."

  "Some really ugly things." Alex held up a statue of a deformed man. "Don't tell me this was on your coffee table."

&
nbsp; She laughed. "My mom made that in a sculpting class. It was the first thing she ever made. We took the class together at the recreation center. I wanted to do something artistic, and she wanted to do something with me." Her smile faded as she thought about how much time they'd spent together with all the lies between them.

  "Don't do that," Alex said. "Don't replace all the good memories with doubts."

  She gave him a curious look. "How did you know I was doing that?"

  "Experience. It's a waste of energy. It won't get you anywhere."

  "I guess you're right, but it's hard."

  "Look at this," Alex said, holding up a manila file folder. He pulled out a piece of paper. "Your birth certificate."

  She took the paper out of his hand. She'd seen it before when she'd gotten her driver's license and on other occasions. But now she read it more closely. There was no father's name listed, just her mother's and hers, and the hospital, St. Claire's, Berkeley, California. "It sure looks like I was born here. It has an official State of California stamp."

  "It looks authentic," Alex agreed, "but papers can be bought and paid for, especially if a governmental agency is involved."

  "That's what the reporter told me. I didn't know it was so easy to make up an identity for someone."

  "If your mother did that, she had help."

  Julia dug into her own box, which consisted mostly of scarves, gloves, and other accessories. Nothing there. She turned to the next one.

  A moment later, Alex whistled. "You were a chubby little girl."

  She frowned, slipping the photo from his hand. It had been taken at her eleventh birthday party, and she was definitely bulging. "They fed me a lot of Italian food," she complained. "My family thinks the more you eat, the happier you are, and I hadn't lost my baby fat yet."

  "You're carrying more than a baby there," he teased. "And look at those railroad tracks on your teeth."

  "Oh, shut up. I'm sure you weren't always this attractive."

  "So you think I'm attractive?" he said with a charming wink.