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Great. Was this guilt-trip time? Did the general feel bad about not having been there for them when she and Bianca were growing up?
If he did, the guilt had come a little late.
“Bianca and I have done fine on our own.”
“You have, indeed. University degrees. Careers.” Her father smiled. “And someday you’ll have husbands. Men to be proud of. Leaders of this nation. Captains of industry.”
Alessandra stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
The general laughed. “Forgive me, dear child. I must be getting old.” He came closer to her, then offered her his arm. “Will you do me the honor of permitting me to escort you downstairs?”
Alessandra hesitated. She wanted to trust her father. To respect him. Someday, perhaps, to love him.
The problem was that old habits died hard.
She had to stop being foolish. As she’d told herself only a little while ago, the past was the past.
“That would be lovely,” she said, and she put her hand lightly on his arm and let him lead her from the room.
* * *
The party was wonderful.
Lissa, who was a professional chef, had outdone herself. Shrimp ceviche. Tiny Szechuan dumplings. Barbecued chicken and pork and beef, “because hey, this is Texas, y’all,” Jaimie said, laughing.
Not that Lissa had forgotten that Alessandra was a vegetarian.
There were platters of veggie lasagna. Veggie stir fries. Salads of every kind. Trays of caramelized root vegetables .
There was, said Emily, enough food to feed half the town, and that was good because the Wildes seemed to have invited half the town. Alessandra’s kidnapping had been kept secret. Her return had not. Even the general had gone public—well, public with his military superiors—and though none of them knew quite what he’d told them, the fact that he had two families was no longer to be kept hidden.
There was lots to drink and a band had been brought in from Dallas, so there was lots of dancing too. Alessandra spent what seemed like hours on the improvised dance floor in the arms of first one brother and then the next, going from Luca to Matteo to Jacob to Caleb and, finally, to Travis.
“It’s so good to have you back,” Travis said, dancing her around the floor while the band played “Sad Songs and Waltzes,” an old Willie Nelson tune.
“It’s good to be back,” she said.
“That STUD operative… the lieutenant who rescued you.” Travis took her into a slow turn. “Chay Olivieri said he was the best, and I guess he was.”
“You met him? Chay Olivieri?”
“Yes. He and I worked out the details for you to hole up in that house on the beach.” Travis drew back and smiled down at her. “Sounded like a pretty nice place.”
“It was wonderful. I really should write a note to your friend and thank him for lending it to us.”
“Not necessary, but I’m sure he’d be happy to hear from you.”
“I’ll do it first thing tomorrow. Is it okay if I give it to you to send?”
“Absolutely. My pleasure.”
“Thank you.” She gave Travis what she hoped was a smile. The music, the party, everything was beginning to be more than she could handle. People were so kind, so thoughtful, but the one man who should have been here wasn’t. “Not that I’ve been doing too well lately with writing notes and having them delivered.”
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“Meaning?”
“Nothing.”
