by Marie Force
The phone on his desk rang. “Maguire.” He pulled the file he needed from a sloping pile.
“Michael.”
He groaned. “Not now, Paige.”
“You have to talk to me.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“But we’re engaged…”
“We’re not engaged. Not any more. The wedding is off. I’ll talk to you, but not until the trial’s over. Not one second before. Am I clear?”
“What am I supposed to do until then?”
“Maybe you should spend the time thinking about what you’re going to do with your life. It’s time you figured that out, don’t you think? Now, I have a meeting, and I have to go. Do not call me at work again. I mean it, Paige.”
“Michael, please.”
He slammed the phone down with a vicious swear.
“Everything all right in there?” his assistant called.
“Yes,” he hissed.
Juliana let herself into the house on Collington Street that had been her home for the last four years. As she shut off the alarm, she almost felt like she was breaking into Jeremy’s house and was amazed at how disconnected she felt from him on just her first full day without him. She checked the mail and paid a few bills from a joint account they opened when he was sent to Florida. He provided the money, she wrote the checks.
After the chaos of her family life, Juliana had always loved this house. Jeremy’s mother had taken impeccable care of it, and they put their own stamp on it. But after seeing Michael’s home, it just seemed boring in comparison. It had none of the charm or style of his place.
Juliana went upstairs to the bedroom and moved fast to pack what she wanted to take to Michael’s. The bedroom was full of memories—the candles on the bedside table, the framed photos of her and Jeremy, his clothes hanging next to hers in the closet. She picked up a photo of them taken at the beach the summer before. Studying his tanned, smiling face, she wondered if he had wanted other women then, too. Breathless from the pain, she put down the photo and hurried through the packing.
She rushed back downstairs with two bags, weak with relief that she had found somewhere else to live for the time being since there was no way she would’ve been able to stay in their place after what happened. She reset the alarm and locked the door. On the walk back to Michael’s house, she took several deep breaths to settle her rattled nerves.
Making her way up Chester Street, she noticed a man standing outside of Michael’s house, looking up at the front door. He was young and might have been Hispanic. “Can I help you?” she asked, startling him.
“You live here?”
She nodded.
His eyes narrowed. “Just you?”
A prickle of fear crept down Juliana’s spine. “Yes,” she said since there were people close enough on the sidewalk to come to her rescue if necessary.
He looked her over again and then walked away.
Juliana hurried up the stairs, her hands shaking as she used the key. Inside, she locked the door, dug Michael’s business card out of her purse, and called his cell phone.
“Hi,” he answered. “Everything going okay?”
“Yes, thanks.” She hesitated, wondering if she was overreacting.
“Juliana? What is it?”
“I, um… I had kind of an odd encounter on the street a minute ago, and I thought you should know about it.”
“What kind of encounter?”
She relayed the conversation with the man on the street. “I thought of what you said about them watching you, so that’s why I told him I live here alone.”
“Juliana!” His distress came right through the phone. “I appreciate you trying to protect me, but you shouldn’t have put yourself in jeopardy like that! What if he had grabbed you or something? Are you all right?”
“I am now.”
“What did he look like?”
She described him.
“Doesn’t sound like any of the Benedetti’s known associates. Since he didn’t really do anything threatening, I can’t see the point of calling the cops.”
“I guess not. I just thought you should know. Sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no bother,” he said, still sounding rattled. “You were right to call me. Thanks for what you did, but don’t do anything like that again. I want you to be careful.”
“I will be. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
Michael hung up with her, picked up his office phone, and dialed Tom Houlihan’s direct line.
“Hey, it’s Michael. I need you to authorize a cop at my house until the trial is over.”
“I thought you’d turned down protection.”
“A guy on the street outside my house just asked my roommate if she lives there alone. He gave her the creeps. And I’ve had the feeling I was being watched a couple of times lately when I was on the street.”
“Consider it done,” Tom said.
“Thanks.”
Chapter Eleven
After she talked to Michael, Juliana called her brother Vincent.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you back?”
“Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
“My stupid car is dead at the airport. Can you do one more day with Ma? I’ll get over there before work tomorrow.”
He groaned. “Do I have to? She’s been a bear all weekend.”
“She’s a bear every day. You just don’t see it most days. Will you do it?”
“I guess so.”
“Thanks,” Juliana said, relieved.
“You owe me.”
“Don’t go there, Vin.”
He laughed. “So how’s Mr. Wonderful?”
“He’s fine.”
“Still no ring?”
“Don’t go there, either,” she said, shutting down one of her brother’s favorite subjects. He couldn’t understand why Juliana hadn’t pushed Jeremy into marriage, which she found ironic since Vincent had been pushed into two disastrous marriages of his own.
“Hey, you know what I always say: if he’s getting the milk for free, why buy the cow?” He laughed at his own joke. “Moo.”
“That’s enough, Vin,” she said softly.
“Strike a nerve?”
“I’ve got to go. Don’t forget about Ma.”
“Don’t forget you owe me. Hey, do you need help with your car?”
Juliana’s anger faded a bit at that. “No, thanks. A friend’s going to help me. I’ll talk to you later.”
After she hung up, his words echoed in her mind: why should he buy the cow when he’s getting the milk for free? “Yeah, well, it’s not my milk he wants!” Juliana shouted to the quiet house. “How does that grab you, Vin? It’s not my milk he wants.” She’d heard that stupid line from Vincent a million times over the last ten years, but it took on a whole new meaning now.
“I’m not going to do this.” Furious with herself, she stood up. “That’s enough.”
[BRK[
Michael got home just after seven and was greeted by music pulsing through the house and an aroma that made his mouth water. He followed the noise and the smell to the kitchen where Juliana danced about as she tended to a pot on the stove. She moved with the abandon of someone who didn’t know she was being watched. Her dark hair, in a high ponytail, swayed in time with the music. Watching her, something stirred deep inside him, the same curious thing he felt when he’d looked over to find her sitting next to him in the airport.
“Hey,” he finally said from his post against the doorframe. She didn’t hear him so he said it louder.
She startled. “Oh! Michael! You scared me!”
“Sorry.”
Her face flushed with embarrassment as she turned down the radio. “How long have you been there?”
He smiled and pulled off his tie. “Long enough. What are you making? It smells fabulous.”
“Chicken parmesan. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starvin
g. This is a nice treat. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since the last time I was in Rhode Island.”
She took a taste of the sauce. “It’s ready.”
They sat down to eat, and Michael groaned out loud when he took the first bite of tender chicken. “Oh my God. This is unbelievable. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”
“I grew up with an Italian grandmother. She taught me.”
“She taught you well. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
When they were finished eating, he said, “Let’s clean up and go get your car.”
“I’ll clean up.”
“No way. My mother might find out I didn’t help, and that wouldn’t be good for me.”
Juliana laughed. “I’ll never tell. Go get changed. You can help next time.”
On the way to the airport, they stopped at Wal-Mart where she bought a new car battery. Michael installed it for her, and when she started the car, he dropped the hood.
“Good to go,” he said after he put the old battery in her trunk. “I’ll see you at home.”
The easy familiarity of the statement hung in the air between them. Juliana finally looked away from him. “Thanks for the help.”
“No problem.”
She parked behind him across the street from the house.
“Come here for a minute.” He gestured her over to a car parked further up the street, tapped on the car window, and when it was rolled down he extended his hand to the man inside the car. “Michael Maguire.”
“John Tanner.”
They shook hands.
“This is my roommate, Juliana Gregorio. Juliana, John’s a police officer. He and some of his colleagues will be keeping an eye on us until the trial is over.”
Juliana shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Let me know if you need anything, Mr. Maguire.”
“Thanks. Have a good night.”
As they crossed the street, Juliana asked, “Is that because of what happened today?”
“That and a few other things. They wanted me to have protection anyway, but I refused it.”
“You asked for it because of me.” She followed him inside. “Maybe I should go home. You don’t need to be worrying about me right now.”
“I don’t want you to go home. I just want you to be careful.”
“I almost left this morning anyway.”
He stopped and turned to her. “Why?”
She shrugged. “The whole thing seemed so bizarre in the bright light of day. I mean, I met you on an airplane on Friday, and now I’m living with you?”
“It’s temporary, right?”
She nodded.
“Did you go to your place today?”
“Yeah.”
“How was that?”
“I was glad I had somewhere else to live,” she confessed.
“See? There you go. Don’t make it into something it’s not. We’re friends, right?”
“Right.”
“And friends help each other out. Like that dinner you made.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’ll be thinking about that for days.”
She smiled. “You’re easy.”
“Yes, I am,” he said, feigning insult. “Do you have a problem with that?”
She held up her hands and laughed as she sat on the sofa. “No, no problem. I was thinking about Rachelle. I promised her I’d go back to see her again this week. I could do it after work on Wednesday if that’s good for you.”
“Sure. I should be able to do that.” He started up the stairs. “I need to finish some work.”
“Thanks again for helping with my car.”
“You’re welcome.” He hesitated on the stairs as if there was something else he wanted to say.
“What’s wrong?”
“Paige called me at work today.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Not really. Of course her father also called my boss. Fortunately, Tom’s a good guy, and he didn’t really say too much about it other than to ask if my mind was on the trial. It just pisses me off that her father thinks he can call my boss about my personal life.”
Juliana shook her head. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“The timing couldn’t be worse. It’s the last thing I need to be dealing with right now.” He rubbed his face wearily. “I have a bad feeling that things with her could get ugly before all is said and done.”
“It got ugly when she hit you.”
Michael stared at her. “Yes, it did, didn’t it?”
He looked so tired and sad that Juliana resisted the sudden urge to hug him. She swallowed hard. “Try to get some sleep tonight. You need it.”
He nodded. “Good night.”
“Night.”
Early the next morning Juliana took the extra chicken parm to her mother’s house in Highlandtown. She had made that drive almost every day for four years and could just about do it in her sleep. Outside her mother’s dingy rowhouse, Juliana took a moment to work up the fortitude it took to walk into the house where she’d grown up. She didn’t have many happy memories of the years when there’d never been enough of anything—money, love, affection… At twelve, she began babysitting the neighborhood kids so she could pay for her own clothes, and she’d been working ever since.
Realizing time was getting away from her, she got out of the car and went inside.
“Ma?”
Juliana put the food in the refrigerator and went in search of her mother. She found her still sleeping and nudged her awake.
“What do you want?” Paullina asked with a nasty sweep of her hand.
“I just stopped by to bring you some dinner for later,” Juliana said, attempting to straighten up the messy bedroom. Clothes and newspapers were strewn about, an ashtray overflowed, and the remnants of an all-night happy hour were on the bedside table. I’m so glad half my monthly income goes to pay for this dump. “Have you been smoking in bed again, Ma? What’ve we told you about that? You’re going to burn the house down.”
Paullina sat up and defiantly lit a cigarette. “What the hell time is it anyway?”
“Eight.”
She groaned and rubbed her head. “That’s too goddamned early.”
“I have to work at nine, and it would be too late for dinner by the time I got here after. It was now or never.” Juliana almost gagged as she picked up the ashtray and dirty glass off the table and took them into the kitchen. Somehow a woman who couldn’t get around to feeding herself managed to have no trouble keeping up a steady supply of booze and cigarettes. Despite numerous attempts, her children had been unable to identify her supplier.
“How was your romantic weekend,” Paullina asked with a sneer as she took a long drag on her cigarette.
Juliana returned the empty ashtray to the bedside table. “It was great,” she said with a forced smile.
“I don’t know why you stay with that loser. He’s never going to marry you.”
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t care about being married,” Juliana snapped and then was mad at herself for taking the bait. So many years of bitterness and booze had made her once beautiful mother into an ugly person. Juliana waged a daily battle to keep from being sucked into her web of misery.
Juliana’s cell phone rang, and she saw it was Mrs. Romanello, who lived next door to her and Jeremy. If Paullina was Juliana’s mother by birth, Mrs. R was the mother of her heart.
Juliana went into the living room to take the call. “Good morning.”
“Hello, hon. Where are you hiding out? I have something here for you.”
“What is it?”
“A delivery. You’ll have to come see.”
Juliana checked her watch. “I’m at my mother’s. I’ll stop by on my way to the salon.”
“See you then.”
She went back into the bedroom. “I’ve got to go.”
“Don’t let me keep you.”
“Do you need anything?”
Paullina wav
ed her hand. “With all this? What more could I want?”
“I have something to do tomorrow after work. Do you still have the money I gave you last week? You could order a pizza for dinner.” Juliana doubted she would bother. If someone wasn’t there to make sure she ate, all she did was drink.
“Stop hovering.”
“There’s chicken parm for tonight. I want you to eat it, do you hear me?”
“Go to work, Juliana.”
Juliana turned and left the room without another word. Why do I bother? If she wants to drink herself to death, maybe I should just let her. No one else cares if she does. Why do I?
Driving back to Butchers Hill on Eastern Avenue, Juliana pondered those questions. Born eight years after Vincent, Juliana knew she had been an accident. Her oldest sister and brother, Serena and Domenic, fled the moment they graduated from high school. Both had families on the West Coast that Juliana barely knew. Hell, she barely knew them. They moved out before she was six. She couldn’t blame them for running for their lives after they endured some of the worst years of their parents’ marriage. Donatella and Vincent lived in Baltimore but only bothered with their mother when Juliana guilted them into it.
All her life Juliana had been the adult in her relationship with her mother. Maybe it’s my fault she can’t do anything for herself. Maybe if I just stopped she would have to deal with the mess she’s made of her life. Even as she thought it, though, Juliana knew she could never follow through with it.
Her mood lifted when she parked on Collington Street. Without even a glance at her own front door, Juliana walked into Mrs. Romanello’s cluttered house. “Hello!”
“Back here!”
The first thing Juliana saw when she walked into the kitchen was the huge vase of at least two-dozen fragrant red roses. “Oh, wow!” She leaned in to breathe in the scent. “Who sent you flowers?”
