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“You have no idea,” he says. “She’s a special lady.”
“I’m surprised the bakery isn’t named Jerry and Jenny’s.”
“He had the place when he met Jenny. He’d lost his wife a few years before and she really brought him back to life.”
No one brought my mother back to life, I think. She was too afraid. Gio wasn’t. He lived. He tried to love, even if he didn’t find that love. I envy him that courage. I think my mother did as well. I just pray it didn’t get him in trouble.
A few blocks down, I turn to face Kace, and motion the door of the fancy high-rise where Ed lives. “This is it.”
He steps closer, that woodsy wonderful scent of his tingling through me. His gaze lowering to my lips and a swell of heat rushes over me. “This is it, then,” he says, his eyes lifting and finding mine, and I swear every nerve ending in my body pulses with awareness for this man.
“This is it,” I repeat, regret filling me with the certainty he will be gone any moment.
But that moment is not now. He lingers, his fingers catching a strand of my hair, teasing it an eternal moment, before his hand falls away. “Until next time,” he says, and with that, he turns and walks away, leaving me breathless, leaving me confused. Leaving me alone again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Power.
It’s all around me.
Ed’s home is a den of luxury. The doorman calls up to his place to announce my arrival and it’s not long before I’m sitting in Ed’s library, rows of books around me, and luxurious leather beneath me, delivering the bad news. “It’s just not going to happen, Ed.”
Ed’s retired, that is true, but he’s only forty-eight, fit, in jeans and a polo shirt this Saturday. His dark hair is thick, his jawline chiseled, and his wrinkles more character than age. He’s also a man with a calm demeanor, but that calm ticks with an undercurrent of power. “Who was the buyer?”
“Alexander—”
“Voss?”
“Yes, actually. You know him?”
“He worked for me.” His lips thin. “I’ll handle this, Aria. Thank you for trying. We should do dinner sometime soon. We’ll talk about my wish list and other interesting tidbits you and I need to unearth.”
Unease flows through me at that wording and for no good reason. After all, this is not an invitation to dinner. It’s an invitation to leave. “In the meantime, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.” I stand up. His cellphone rings. “I’ll see myself out.” I turn away and head for the door and he doesn’t stop me.
A few minutes later, I step to the street with a nagging sensation in my gut and I don’t know why. I’ve known Ed for a good year now and he’s shown no interest in anything but wine. Still, his words replay in my mind: We’ll talk about my wish list and other interesting tidbits you and I need to unearth.
Hunting for buried treasure suits me just fine, as long as the treasure isn’t my family secret.
***
I arrive back at the store close to rush hour, a cold front whistling wind between the high rises. Hurrying into the building with a shiver, I find Nancy packing up to leave. “I thought I was going to miss you again and Joey has a school event tonight.” With long dark curly hair, she’s a pretty young, twenty-something single mom, always on the run and like me, never dates. She has her schedule and her six-year-old son to think about. I have that reckless note to think about. “I have messages for you and Gio from several customers. Apparently, Gio isn’t returning anyone’s calls.” She sets the messages on the edge of the counter, grabs her bag, and rounds the counter, looking adorable in pleated black slacks paired with a black and white sweater. “I haven’t seen Gio in like two weeks. Is he still not back? That must be some treasure he’s hunting.”
She has no idea. He’s disappeared a few days here and there, but never for weeks. “I’m pretty sure the treasure is a woman,” I tell her.
“Oh. Well, in all of my two years here, that man has always been a player.”
She’s right, he is, but no woman would keep him from contacting me. No hunt would keep him from contacting me.
“Whatever the case,” she adds, “there are a few customers getting upset.”
“I’ll call them. Thank you. And good luck to Joey tonight.”
“Thank you. He’s playing the recorder for the recital. He’s pretty good. I’m hoping he wants to join the band or orchestra. I think it’s character building.”
A topic that is starting to get a little too close to taboo for me, but she’s right. It is. I loved playing the violin as a young girl. I just can’t admit that to anyone, ever. “He’ll be great at whatever he does,” I say instead.
