Fonduing Fathers (2 page)
Authors: Julie Hyzy
Maureen Corcoran Komperda has been one of my dearest friends since high school and I know I can always depend on her for guidance on medical issues. Thanks, Corky!
Reference librarian Jeanne Munn Bracken was happy to help, and her input earned her a brief mention in this story. Watch for it.
An Australian friend, Sarah Byrne, generously bid at a Bouchercon charity auction, winning the chance to name a character in this book. Keep an eye out for her, too.
My deep gratitude to James A. Tobias at the Historical Resources Branch of the U.S. Army Center of Military History for helping me get a key piece of paperwork just right.
And to the incomparable Judy Bobalik, who came up with the title, hugs and thanks!
These books would never come to life without the support and generosity of my fabulous editor, Natalee Rosenstein; her delightful assistant, Robin Barletta; and sharp-eyed copyeditor Erica Rose at Berkley Prime Crime. Thanks to Larry Segriff at Tekno Books, who has been an absolute pleasure to work with. And, of course, many thanks to my enthusiastic agent, Paige Wheeler.
Lastly, as always, to my family. You are my life. I love you all so much. Thank you.
CHAPTER 1
MY MOTHER PLACED A SERVING OF HOMEMADE panna cotta in front of Gav and tucked a spoon next to it. “Ollie told me she’s served this very recipe to the president and his family,” she said. “Can you believe that? Such a simple dish, and one she learned right here in my kitchen.”
Her wide smile crinkled her eyes as she placed a helping in front of me. “I tell my bridge club the same thing every time I make this. I know they must be getting tired of me bragging about you being the White House executive chef, honey, but I can’t help myself.”
“Oh, Mom,” I said.
She completed her circuit around the dining room, serving Nana and then herself, before resuming her seat at the table’s head.
Gav lifted his spoon. “I don’t know how I can manage even a bite of dessert after that wonderful dinner,” he said, as always delivering the perfect compliment at the perfect
time. “But I’ll do my best.” After a slow mouthful and a rumble of delight, he looked up at my mother again. “It’s obvious where Ollie gets her talent.”
Nana grinned. Mom beamed.
I pulled my own dish of panna cotta closer, savoring a little burst of joy from being surrounded by those I loved best. We had the windows open on this unseasonably pleasant Chicago summer night, and even though only a narrow gangway separated Mom’s second-floor window from the two-flat next door, a gentle breeze managed to snake its way in. Carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass and the sound of neighbors chatting outside, it twisted around us, delivering a featherlight touch of bliss.
Mom seemed younger than when I’d seen her last. She’d been seeing a gentleman named Kap ever since her trip to D.C. a few years back, and the man’s presence in her life was paying obvious dividends. As for Nana, she looked exactly the same, only smaller. Every time I saw her, she seemed to shrink a little bit more.
Not much had changed in the house since my last visit home. The dining room walls were still the same soft cantaloupe trimmed in white. The oak floor still creaked when I stepped on the threshold to the kitchen or walked near the windows. What had given me a surprising jolt, however, was the familiar almond fragrance of Liquid Gold that had hit the moment we’d first arrived. Back in my childhood, one whiff of that sweet scent and I’d known company was coming. It had taken me a moment to realize that this time, it was Gav and I who were “company.” The unexpected insight was touching, and a little bit sad.
Gav and I had been here for two days, giving my family their first chance to interact with the handsome government agent I’d told them very little about up until now. I’d held back on details, not because I was afraid they wouldn’t like him, but because I knew how much my mother worried for me. She respected me as an adult, but still feared my getting
hurt—the way she had all my life. I knew that if she had any inkling as to how deeply I cared for this man, she’d be very worried indeed.
From the moment Gav and I had arrived here at my mom and nana’s, however, it had been nonstop chatter among us all. I’d been delighted by the ease with which Gav had won them over, and thrilled that their zealous interest in details about our relationship hadn’t scared him off.
My gaze lit upon the framed photo that held the place of honor at the center of Mom’s antique oak buffet. The picture had been taken so long ago I didn’t even remember the event. But I’d clearly been there, smiling big for the camera, my dark bob blowing in the wind as I wrapped chubby three-year-old arms around the backs of my parents’ necks. Proof of an idyllic childhood moment during that brief time we were all together, when we were a complete and happy family.
I averted my gaze before anyone noticed me staring. The last thing any of us needed was to be reminded of the awkward moment last night when I’d broached a subject that my mother considered off-limits. I squirmed in my seat now, knowing I’d be bringing it up again and soon. Gav and I had made this trip specifically to get information, and because we were scheduled to return to Washington, D.C., tomorrow, I didn’t have time to waste.
But not right this second. I didn’t have the heart to spoil this sweet moment of contentment.
My mom, unfortunately, had other ideas. She steered the conversation to a subject I wished she realized was off-limits with
me
.
Turning to Gav, she said, “Ollie tells me that the president’s children are just as charming in real life as they seem on TV. Do you like kids?” Clearly convinced she was coming across as nonchalant, she smiled and asked, “You don’t have any of your own, do you?”
Gav cocked an eyebrow. “Not yet.” He scraped up the
last of his panna cotta and popped it into his mouth. My mom flashed me a pleased glance, which I pretended not to notice. On the flight out here, I’d warned him that she might latch onto this topic. He’d told me not to worry. I did anyway.
Mom sat up straighter, pretending to concentrate on her spoon, maintaining her excruciatingly obvious just-making-conversation tone. “Oh, so you
do
hope to have children someday?”
He stared at her straight-faced, but I knew him well enough to detect a grin lurking beneath the surface. “Six or seven, at least. Maybe a dozen.”
My mom shot me the evil eye. I laughed.
Nana guffawed. “Serves you right, Corinne,” she said. “Let these young people take their time. They’ve got their whole lives ahead of them.”
“It never hurts to be curious,” my mom said, good-naturedly. She switched gears then. “Unless, of course, you’re Ollie. I swear, honey, you get into such trouble with your nosiness. You need to be more careful.”
Gav leveled a meaningful look at me, even as he directed his words to my mother. “Your daughter is smart, she’s tough, and she has good instincts. Her curiosity—even when it isn’t welcome—has done far more good than harm.”
Just like that, my mother’s face closed up. I knew why; we all did.
“Mom,” I began. She gave a little head shake. I closed my mouth.
She put her spoon down and stared at it. Nana closed a thin hand around her wrist. “Corinne,” she said in a voice so soft I barely heard her, “of course it’s your decision, but remember what Tony asked of you.”
I held my breath. I didn’t understand what Nana was saying, but I knew she was on my side on this matter. While my mom had been in the shower this morning, Nana had come upstairs from her apartment and urged patience. “She
won’t shut you out forever,” Nana had said, but when I pressed her for more she’d refused. “This is your mother’s story to tell. Not mine.”
The clock in the living room ticked, smacking at the silence with every measured step of its second hand. Each lonely beat twisted my heart and chipped at my resolve. Maybe this had been a terrible idea. Maybe I should come back another time on my own. Maybe…
Mom pushed back from the table, causing her chair to scrape against the floor. She stood, looking down at Nana, who narrowed her eyes, then nodded. With a glance at me—one that held both impatience and resignation—Mom stepped sideways, and without a word, crossed the dining room into her bedroom, where she closed the door.
Gav reached over and grasped my hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, “maybe we shouldn’t have come.”
But before he could finish, Nana raised a finger in the air. “Wait,” she said.
There were no words to describe the heaviness in my heart. I felt as though I’d caused my mother pain by revisiting old wounds. Worse, I’d somehow let her down.
When she’d been gone for more than five minutes, I could no longer stand the tension. “You’re right,” I said to Gav. “We should go—”
At that moment, Mom’s bedroom door opened and she emerged wearing an expression that spoke less of anger and disappointment and more of resolve. Carrying a shoe box I could tell was almost as old as I was, she made her way back to the table and set the box reverently at her place.
Nana flicked a glance up at us, then turned her attention to her daughter.
My mom reclaimed her seat, taking great care not to make eye contact with me. Part of me wanted to scream, to ask why there was a need for such secrecy. The other part of me wanted to run from the room. After all these years,
my mom was finally about to address the questions I’d asked all my life. And all of a sudden I didn’t know if I wanted to hear the answers.
Placing both hands atop the turquoise-and-gray cardboard box, my mom spoke in a quiet voice. “You can’t know how hard this is for me.”
I held my breath.
She looked up now, meeting my eyes with a steady gaze and shaky smile. “You can thank your grandmother and Kap. They convinced me that this was the time.”
“Kap knows?” The question sprang from my lips before I could stop myself.
“No specifics,” she said. “No one knows specifics except Nana and me and a man who helped us out at a very difficult time in my life.”
I wanted to ask a hundred questions but I knew to keep still. This was my mom’s moment. She needed to do this her way. I waited.
“Your grandmother and Kap are right. I probably should have shared this with you years ago, but I couldn’t. I was afraid of hurting you. I was afraid of ruining the image you had of your father.” She smiled again, but her eyes were glassy wet. “You idolize him. And what I’m about to tell you could spoil that forever. It shouldn’t,” she hurried to add, “because I knew your father better than anyone. He was truly the best man I’d ever met. No matter what other people said.”
My heart was beating so hard I could feel its reverberations in my chest. At some point I’d let go of Gav’s hand—I didn’t know when—and I clutched my fingers together in my lap, aching to hear what Mom was about to tell me, terrified of what she might say. How bad could it be? I wanted to look at Gav, to see support in his eyes, but I couldn’t tear my attention away from my mother.
Outside, an ambulance siren wailed. A sad, solitary cry in the dark.
My mom took a deep breath. “I never wanted you to know the truth about your father’s death,” she said. “I wanted you to remain the little girl who worshipped her dad’s memory. But you’re an adult now and you deserve to know.” She lifted the lid. “It’s time.”