The Burning Point (8 page)

She described the events of the day and passed on good wishes of people who'd asked after Tom, but with a sure instinct for noticing what wasn't being said, he asked, "What about Donovan? I assume he was there."

"He was a pallbearer. We chatted a bit at the open house. Very civilized." Her brother had been spending much of his time at a hospice with a terminally ill friend, which gave her a good excuse to change the subject. "How is Randy doing?"

"He went into a coma this morning. He's not expected to last more than another day or two." Tom sighed. "He was afraid of dying alone, poor kid. At least that won't happen. Half a dozen of us are taking turns sitting with him."

She heard grief in his voice, but also acceptance. Years of volunteer hospice work had deepened his spirituality, enabling him to accept that death was as much a part of the great dance as life. Yet she selfishly wished he were here so she could take refuge in his arm as she had ever since they were toddlers.

Deciding to concentrate on the positive aspect of what had happened, she said, "Tonight Charles Hamilton told us about the weird will Sam left, and there's some surprisingly good news. You're one of the major heirs."

"Good God, Sam put me in his will?"

"Mother said that he never stopped loving you."

"You don't know what this means to me." Her brother's voice broke. "No, that's not true. You're the only one who
can
know what it means."

"Sam couldn't admit he was wrong when he was alive," she said quietly. "I think this is a belated apology for being such a jerk where you were concerned."

"He was what he was, Kate. I'm glad he was finally able to make some kind of gesture toward me. I only wish it had happened when he was alive."

She gave her brother time to absorb the wonder of Sam's posthumous overture before she moved on to the difficult aspect of the legacy. "Though Sam finally made the gesture, don't start spending your inheritance. You and I will receive major money and Donovan will get the business, but only if some very strange conditions are fulfilled."

"What kind of conditions?"

"He wanted Donovan and me to live in the house on Brandy Lane for a year. Otherwise, you and I don't get a penny, and PDI will be sold to another demolition firm."

"Sweet Jesus!" After three beats of shocked silence, Tom said, "Impossible. You can't live with Donovan. I assume you said so immediately."

"Not yet. I'm...thinking about it."

"For God's sake, Kate! It's only money. You and I are getting along just fine as we are, and you don't owe Donovan a damned thing."

Tom's concern was comforting, but as her protective big brother, he lacked objectivity. The situation had too many ramifications for her to make a decision quickly. "Mother thinks sharing a house for a year might be good for both of us."

"She wouldn't say that if she knew the whole story! Don't even
think
about doing this, Kate. Please."

Tom cared little for money, but she knew that he could use Sam's legacy. Though he was a first rate computer consultant, he took on only enough projects to pay his bills. More of his time went into his volunteer work at the hospice and tutoring kids who were at risk. As his sister, Kate wanted him to have more security. With Sam's money, he could buy a place of his own. She'd love to rehab an old San Francisco townhouse for her brother.

Sam, damn his conniving soul, had known she might do for Tom what she wouldn't do for herself. "There's a lot to consider, Tom. If I agree to Sam's conditions, Donovan and I would just be housemates. We'd hardly ever see each other."

"That may be the theory, but can you guarantee it would be like that in practice?"

"Life doesn't come with any guarantees beyond death and taxes."

"Okay. Think it through. Weigh the pluses and minuses.
Then
say no."

"We'll see." Kate suppressed a yawn. "I'll start by sleeping on it."

"Do that. Give Mother my love. I'll call her tomorrow."

"Will do. Take care, Tom." Kate hung up, weary to the bone and ready for bed. But she doubted that she'd sleep.

∗ ∗ ∗

An advantage of old friends was that it wasn't necessary to speak. Julia was grateful for Charles' undemanding silence. Even small talk would have been too much.

Kate entered the living room to say good-night, dark circles under her eyes. As she headed off in her stocking feet, shoes dangling from one hand, Julia thought how nice it would be to have her daughter in the same city, or even in the same time zone.

After Kate left, Julia said, "Another of the same, bartender."

Charles rose and topped up her chardonnay. "If you want to get seriously drunk, you'll have to switch to something stronger."

"Then I'd just get sick. Very undignified." The phone began to ring. She ignored it, and the ringing stopped abruptly. "The answering machine is on. I'm at the point where one more kind, warmhearted condolence would make me scream."

"No, you wouldn't. You'd be completely gracious." He refreshed his own drink, then sat again. "As Barbara used to say, you're a credit to steel magnolias everywhere."

She thought sadly of Charles's wife, who had been one of her closest friends. "Barbara over-estimated me. Not steel. Iron, and rusting fast."

"A little rust doesn't mean the underlying structure isn't sound,' he said quietly. "Are you going to tell Kate your suspicions about Sam's death?"

"Not yet. She has enough on her mind." Julia stroked Oscar, whose head was on her lap. "Maybe never. After all, there's no real proof."

"Given her reaction to Sam's posthumous manipulations, I'm surprised that she isn't on the way to the airport already." He swished the Scotch and water in his glass. "Do you think she and Donovan will give it a try?"

"I have no idea. Neither of them has ever said why they split up, but I've always suspected that Patrick had an extra-marital fling, and Kate left when she found out."

Surprised, Charles said, "I thought he worshipped the ground Kate walked on."

"He did, but that doesn't necessarily mean fidelity." Julia tried without success to keep a caustic edge from her voice. "The double standard will never go out of style. Not when so many men enjoy it."

Reading between the lines, Charles said, "Good God, Julia, did Sam...?" He stopped abruptly.

Knowing he would not pursue such a personal question, Julia said, "Once or twice, early in our marriage, when he was on a business trip. Even though I was pregnant with Tom, I almost left him when I found out. Sam truly didn't understand how much his infidelity would hurt me--after all, his straying had just been sex, it was me that he loved. How come I was taking it so seriously? I stopped packing long enough to ask him to visualize me in bed with another man. He looked sick, and swore he'd never be unfaithful again. As far as I know, he kept his word."

Charles whistled. "The things one doesn't know about other people's marriages."

"It wasn't something that either Sam or I wanted to advertise." She closed her eyes and pressed the cool wine glass to her forehead. "We came from different worlds, and a lot of the initial attraction was because of those differences. Problems were inevitable. People are quicker to divorce now. If Kate and Patrick hadn't been so young, maybe they could have worked things out, perhaps even had a stronger marriage for it."

"That could still happen."

"I doubt it. Too much time has passed." She sipped her chardonnay, remembering. "Did I ever tell you that the first time Sam and I met was when he came to my parents' house as boss of a crew remodeling the basement? He was just out of the army and working construction while he decided what to do next." It had been lust at first sight on both sides.

"I didn't know that. You were mercifully light on details when you gave my ring back and said that you hoped we'd always be friends."

"Lord, did I say that? The oldest cliche in the book for ending a relationship." Despite her well-intentioned words at the time, several years had passed when there had been no contact between her and Charles, though she'd noted the announcement of his wedding, and hoped he'd be happy. But Baltimore was a small town in many ways, and they moved in the same circles. Eventually their paths crossed at the wedding of a mutual friend. Barbara and Sam had adored each other with Mediterranean gusto, which made it easy for Julia and Charles to pick up the threads of their lifetime friendship again.

Soon, the four of them had developed the special bond that exists when each member of a pair of couples truly enjoys every other person. That bond had only been strengthened as they raised their children together. When Sam needed an attorney, he'd retained Charles, who had ended up knowing most of the Corsi family secrets, except for the painful one of Sam's early infidelity. Barbara, cut off from her Orthodox family for marrying a gentile, had treated Julia like a sister. In her turn, Julia had found Barbara's company exhilarating in something of the same way she enjoyed Sam.

Thinking of all the happy years, she said, "I've given thanks often that we became friends again. You and Barbara and your girls enriched our lives immeasurably."

"The same is true of you and Sam and your children." He finished the last of his drink and set the glass aside. "I'd had a very clear mental picture of you and me happily growing old together, so I was stunned when you broke things off. But...relieved, too. For an engaged man, I was finding the sexy brunette who had the office next to mine entirely too attractive."

"Barbara, I assume?"

"Yes. The fact that you were brave enough to defy expectations and marry someone who 'wasn't our kind' gave me the courage to do the same. I never regretted it."

Nor had Julia. Grief, total and overwhelming, flooded through her. "Charles, how long does it take to accept the finality of death? I'm still in denial. I half expect Sam to come bounding in here, glowing with energy and trailing demolition dust."

"I wish I had an answer. Even after two years, sometimes it's a shock to walk into the kitchen and not find Barbara throwing together one of her instant gourmet meals." Charles regarded her with compassion. "One thing I do know, Julia. It will get worse before it gets better. But in time--it will get better."

She buried her face in her hands. "God damn Sam Corsi. God damn him to
hell
."

∗ ∗ ∗

The wipers slid intermittently across Donovan's windshield as he drove north on Charles Street. Wet snow had iced the pavement and chased most Baltimoreans inside. Controlling the vehicle took concentration even with four-wheel drive, but it wasn't enough to banish thoughts of Sam's insane will. The idea of living with Kate, seeing her every day, was paralyzing. Terrifying.

Horribly tempting.

It had been snowing like this the night they'd decided to get married. Donovan hadn't thought marriage was possible when they were both still in college. Then, over pizza after a movie date, Kate produced a business-like sheet of calculations. She'd totaled up his scholarships at Loyola College, the income she got from a small trust fund, estimated wages from summer jobs, then balanced it against projected expenses to prove they could afford to marry.

He hadn't liked the idea of relying partially on her money, but was ready to accept anything that meant they could be together. Privately, he recognized a profound desire to secure her as his own before she woke up and realized she could do better elsewhere.

On the way back to the Corsi house, as the knowledge she was his forever sank in, he'd spun his uncle's car in circles in the slippery snow of empty intersections, whooping like a maniac. Kate had alternated between laughter and alarm, afraid that the police would arrest them, or a huge and unforgiving truck would flatten them into the pavement.

But he'd gotten her home safely. Outside the front door, they kissed so long they'd both had snowflakes caught in their lashes like stars when they went inside to announce their engagement.

Though the Corsis liked their daughter's boyfriend, they'd been startled and none too pleased since Kate and Donovan were so young. But Kate had produced her calculations, adding that her parents were in no position to protest when they had also married young and with blinding swiftness. In the end, the Corsis had given their consent and arranged a magnificent wedding, as if they'd never had any private doubts.

Had Sam and Julia felt the same desperate hunger to be together? Probably. Donovan had ached to be with Kate, and not only for the sex, phenomenal though it was.

The sex... His whole body tightened as he remembered the first time. He tried to push the thought away, but couldn't. Memories that had been dammed up for almost a decade raged through him like a spring flood.

Mind churning, he turned left from onto Bellona Avenue, almost skidding off the narrow road. He swore and pulled onto the shoulder, knowing he wasn't fit to drive until he had himself under control again. But control was not easily come by as he stared into the blowing snow, remembering the night Kate had swept into his life.

Introducing her to his aunt and uncle had been a deliberate attempt to underline how different their worlds were. Instead, the visit made things worse because she'd been as much at home in a Hampden rowhouse as she'd been at the cotillion. Finding out that she was half-Italian, just like him, made her seem more attainable.

His original intentions had been honorable; under-dressed girls should not walk or hitchhike through city streets on December nights. But after they got into Uncle Frankie's car, she looked up at him with those huge dark eyes and he couldn't stop himself from kissing her. The first kiss was followed by more. Instead of withdrawing from his increasingly intimate caresses, she had responded with soft, rapturous sighs, intoxicating him with her utter openness.

Though he burned to make love to her, he managed to find the willpower to pull away before reaching the point of no return. That moment of retreat was engraved vividly in his brain. Snow-covered car windows steamed into a seductive privacy. Pale light filtering through the translucent snow to burnish her fair hair and the elegant curves of cheek and throat. The floral delicacy of her perfume mingling with the richer scents of passion and Cousin Giuseppe's wine.