Gaining Visibility (24 page)

Okay, that was fair. They
were
both exhausted and in dire need of sleep. Tomorrow would be better for everyone—maybe even for Hettie now they were both here and could say good-bye properly.

The chime sounded the end of visiting hours, and they left the ICU along with the family members of other patients. Varying degrees of fear, sadness, and hope reflected in the surrounding faces.

She waited until they were alone in the parking garage to ask. “Where are you staying?”

“I wanted to get the keys from you.” Fatigue saturated Frank's voice. “Thought I'd stay at Mom's. I don't think I can face a hotel room.”

Julia's insides twisted at the realization that Hettie hadn't told him. “Frank, your mom's house is empty. Well, almost empty. She had me sell all of the big pieces. The bedroom suites, living room and dining room furniture . . .” Her voice trailed off in an apologetic whisper.

“Oh.” He closed his eyes and gave a defeated sigh, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

She felt the eyes of the universe watching for her reaction. Vitale had shown her every kindness. Now she was faced with the challenge of paying that kindness forward.

Frank may be her ex and he may be a pathetic scoundrel, but he was hurting, and if he were a wounded, stray dog there was no doubt what she would do.

Nonetheless, a little voice in her head screamed
No!
even as her mouth opened to speak. “I've got plenty of room. You can stay at my house.”

C
HAPTER
22

“W
e can make this hotel the crown jewel of Lerici, Mario. Perhaps of all Liguria.” With a dramatic flair, Vitale unrolled the sketch he had made last night of the hotel grounds with his artistic rendition of how it
could
look.

Mario's eyes widened at the sight. He placed his hands at the opposite edges and leaned over to peer closely, not wanting to miss a single detail.

Vitale kept quiet, letting his friend take it all in. The idea had come to him right after he'd read the e-mail from Julietta. He smiled. Today, he would write her and tell her how she was still inspiring him, even though they weren't physically together.

Mario's finger traced a path to each of the art pieces. “You have all of these finished already?”

Vitale nodded. “All except this one.” He pointed to the large space at the north end of the pool. “But I have something in mind for there. I'll show you the sketches, and you can decide if you want to commission the work. I will warn you, Mario. This will be an expensive undertaking, but one your father would approve of, I think.”

Mario grimaced at the mention of “expensive,” but it was well-known in Lerici that the hotel owner was much more well-off than he pretended to be. For years, under his father's management, the Lord Byron Hotel had been Lerici's premiere place to stay. The elder Moretti had been wise enough to know money attracted money. If his son didn't learn the same lesson quickly, the Lord Byron would lose its tenuous four-star ranking soon.

“Of course, if you're not interested, it's fine.” Vitale shrugged. “I wanted to give you the first chance. I'll go to Nicolina next.”

“You would work for Nicolina?” Mario sneered. “I don't think she would allow you to get much work done.”

Vitale shrugged. When he was sixteen, Nicolina had been the older woman who'd taught him the art of making love. And though he hadn't warmed her bed since the day he met Luciana, her attempts at seducing him back never wavered—another well-known fact around Lerici. “The Hotel Fiori needs it even more than this one. And time doesn't have to be a factor. Whenever it gets done, it gets done.” Admittedly, he didn't relish the idea of approaching Nicolina with the launch of his new business, but he would do whatever he had to do to make it a success. And if kissing Nicolina's ass was what it called for, he would do it . . . as long as he didn't have to kiss her mouth also.

“Can we start with these four smaller pieces first?” Mario indicated the three adjacent to the parking lot and the one at the edge of the breakfast patio.

“Absolutely.” Vitale kept his tone even while his heart did a joyful dance. “Orabella and Cesare can start tomorrow, if you want.” His sister and brother-in-law had been short on money since Cesare's layoff. They wouldn't take a handout from anyone—not even family. But a chance to use their landscaping talents to help Vitale launch Villa de Luca had left all three of them breathless when he'd approached them this morning with his idea.

Mario straightened and thrust his hands into his deep pockets. “Let's start small.” He tapped the spot by the pool. “I'll have to let you know later about this one.”

Vitale's heart sank a little. The poolside piece had kept him awake most of the night. It was a large piece he couldn't afford to create on speculation. It would have to wait for a commission.

Good things took time.

He could wait.

* * *

What was that delicious scent? Mmm. It smelled like . . . bacon? Remembering her capricious offer the night before, Julia shot into a sitting position in the middle of the bed. Frank must be preparing breakfast. She threw a glance at the clock, then did a double take. 12:36. Daylight at 12:36? “Afternoon! Oh. My. God.” Was it possible she'd slept over fourteen hours?

She threw on the clothes she'd worn to the hospital, ran a quick brush through her hair, and hurried down the stairs as quickly as her toe would allow. She'd already missed part of the visitation times with Hettie for today. Missing more was out of the question.

Frank's face spread into a huge grin when she hustled into the kitchen. “So Sleeping Beauty can awaken by herself after all.” His eyes swept over her appreciatively, hovering just a fraction of a second too long on her braless breasts.

She glanced down and realized too late that her fake nipples were protruding gaudily through the knit top. Damn him. She squelched the flash of anger that swept through her, refusing to allow Frank to put her on the defensive in her own home. But she couldn't stop the heat that rose into her face.

She slid onto the nearest barstool. “Prince Charming could've had all the women he wanted with a side of pepper bacon.”

“Well, maybe he only wanted one.”

She ignored the comment and the raised eyebrow that accompanied it. “Why are you frying bacon? And why didn't you wake me earlier?”

The toaster popped up two pieces of toast. He took those, added two more, and pressed the lever down. “BLTs. Do you know how long it's been since I had a real BLT with a western Kentucky acid-so-high-it-bites-you-back tomato?”

She knew exactly how long it had been, give or take a couple of weeks, but she bit her tongue.

“I didn't wake you,” he continued, “because you obviously needed the rest. And it wasn't like Mom's going anywhere. Not today anyway.” His tone had a finality that told her he'd made a decision not to decide. “I woke up early enough to visit her this morning.”

“Any change?”

He gave a disconcerted shrug. “The doctor was there, and we talked again. I wasn't so emotional this time.” His glance darted away, then back. “He says even with the feeding tube, she probably won't last long. Maybe a few days. A couple of weeks. There'll be signs when she's letting go. We can call Melissa to come home then.”

“I see.” Julia wasn't sure how to take the news. There was certainly no surge of joy. It wasn't like Hettie was still living. She was just sort of hanging on. Good-bye wasn't imminent, but it would almost be easier if it were.

“I appreciate your letting me stay here, Jules.” The message in his eyes—the unspoken “I don't deserve it”—palpated the air between them.

Julia gave him a stern look and set her voice to a tone that would match. “It's
only
for a few days. We'll make it work.”

He nodded his understanding. “I don't want to be a burden, so I took the liberty of going by the grocery to pick up a few things. I also hit the farmers' market. Look at this yellow squash.” The basket he indicated was filled to the brim with at least a dozen of the unblemished, creamy summer vegetables.

Looking them over, she had to agree. “That's indeed some fine-looking squash, but when did you start cooking? And shopping for groceries? And hitting the farmers' market? I used to have to draw you a map to the kitchen.”

He laughed and lay open the avocado he'd halved. “I started watching the Cooking Channel.” With a quick action, he popped the knife into the middle of the pit, twisted, and pulled the pit free of the flesh in one fluid motion. “Got interested and found out I'm pretty good at it.”

Between the scent of the bacon and the sight of the avocado, Julia's hunger attacked with surprising force, taking the edge off her discomfort with the temporary living arrangements. She swallowed to keep from drooling on the bar.

“You look fabulous, Jules.” Frank's glance roamed over the part of her visible above the bar, pausing to study her hair. “Never pictured you as a redhead, but I gotta say . . . wow!”

She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling a bit self-conscious with all the attention from him. Vitale's attention kept her teetering of the edge of excitement. Frank's just set her on edge. Thankfully, the toaster released two more pieces and his attention turned to slathering them with mayonnaise. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she'd given up mayo, but she let it go.

“Spinach, avocado, pepper bacon, and the world's best tomatoes on German rye. I could probably market these and make a million.” He slid a plate in front of her loaded with sandwich.

She hesitated, waiting for him to finish preparing his.

“Go on,” he coaxed her. “I'll catch up.”

Hunger won out. Her first bite drew a groan of approval that came out sounding much more sensuous than she intended. “Sorry.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “I haven't eaten in a while.”

Frank closed his eyes and gave a leer that could almost pass for a grin. “I can name that song in one note.” He opened his eyes and winked at her, then took a couple of diet sodas from the fridge and indicated the table with a nod.

Julia moved her plate to the seat adjacent to his at the table. The second bite grew larger in her mouth as she realized they were sitting in exactly the same position they habitually sat in for twenty-three years. She chewed slowly, eyeing Frank covertly as he dug into his sandwich.

Fit and tan. Just like Melissa described him. “Life in paradise seems to be agreeing with you,” she said.

“In some ways, I guess. Hawaii's beautiful, but way too expensive.” He started to say something, hesitated, took a drink of soda.

Julia took another bite and waited.

“I'm moving back to Paducah, Jules.” He set down his sandwich and leaned back, resting his arms on the table, watching her intently.

Would that mean he'd be back in her social circle? She still ran around with quite a few of their old friends. She checked her own reaction, careful not to show anything that might give her emotions away. Her pulse had kicked up a notch—nothing major. Mouth a little dry. A sip of her drink took care of that. A year ago, this news would have rocked her world—in a bad way. She was better with it now. “Oh, yeah?” She kept her voice casual. “What brought this on?”

Frank gave a sheepish grin. “Turning fifty mostly. Missing our friends. Missing home. This is where I want to be.” His index finger tapped the table as if it were pointing to that exact spot.

Julia felt her mouth draw downward at the corners, trying not to take his finger literally. “I see.”

“And that brings me to something I wanted to talk to you about. God knows it's difficult to talk about this right now.” When he pinched the bridge of his nose, Julia went on alert and laid down the sandwich she had partway to her mouth. “I'm assuming Mom hasn't changed her will?” he asked.

“I'm pretty sure it hasn't changed since she redid it after your dad's death.” Pretty sure was an understatement. She knew. Frank wouldn't have health care power of attorney if it had changed. “Everything will be left to the two of us.” Talking about Hettie as if she were in the past tense already plunged the sandwich into the lowest depth of Julia's stomach.

Frank evidently felt the same way. His eyes misted over. “See, I was born and raised in that house and I'd hate to let it get away to somebody else. I was thinking I would buy out your part and move in there myself if you'd be okay with that.”

His sentimentality toward the house shocked her even while it touched her heart. Despite the hurt and disappointment his actions had caused the past couple of years, Hettie still loved her only child very much. Oh, she ranted and raved and called him names, but her mood was always brighter after he phoned. Julia was sure that, deep down, Hettie would've been pleased he wanted the house. “I'd be more than okay with it, Frank. I think it's a great solution. Your mom would love it.”

“Yeah, I wish I could've talked to her about it.” He cleared his throat. “Would you consider letting me pay rent and stay here until—”

“No, not a good idea.”

“I figured you'd say that, but we'll have to work out the agreement on the house. That will take time. If I'm going to be paying rent to someone, why not you?”

“Because I don't want you living here. I only offered last night because you were distraught.” She winced. That was pretty harsh. He was grieving, after all. She sighed and tried for a softer tone. “Look, Frank, it's just not a good idea for either of us. Melissa said you had a new girlfriend. She probably wouldn't be too keen on the idea of your cohabitating with your ex.”

“Dawn and I broke up.”

“Oh. Sorry.” The sarcasm that would've normally intoned her words had been tempered by her recent parting from Vitale.

Frank gave an indifferent shrug. “She was too young. We're a different generation from those guys, you know? They have a whole different set of values.”

Julia wasn't hungry anymore. She pushed the rest of the sandwich away.

“I'm gonna be honest with you, Jules.” Frank clasped his hands in front of his plate. “The company's floundering in the bad economy. Laying people off left and right. I'm taking unpaid time to be here with Mom, and a pay cut to move back here. Nobody will want to rent to me for only a month. At least, no place I'd want to live. And a hotel room for however long I need it will be pricey.”

Julia's mind raced to find a reason that sounded less selfish than “I don't want you here.” Suggesting he go ahead and move into Hettie's seemed like the best solution, but she'd learned not to make hasty moves until she talked to her attorney.

Frank must've read her expression and sensed she was weakening. “I can be a help around here, Jules. I noticed a loose rail in the banister. The screen in the back door needs fixing.”

The word and its reminder of Vitale almost brought a smile to her lips, but too many other pressing things booted it away.