Yesterday's Stardust (42 page)

“If I hadn’t tried to save China, if I’d minded my own business or called the cops or…” Sobs swallowed her words. She pressed her face into his shoulder.

When her tears stopped, she pulled away and mopped her face with her hands. “It’s your fault for encouraging me to rage against society.” She managed a smile. “Jesus was a rule breaker, too, remember?”

He laughed. “For all the right reasons. Not sure Jesus would have joined a gang just to get a good story.”

“I didn’t do it just to get a story. I did it to understand. I wanted to get to know those girls and show them there’s a better way. You can’t say Jesus didn’t do that. He joined the human gang for that exact reason.”

“Wow.” Evan brushed a tear from her chin. “That is so very twisted but so true.” He squeezed her shoulder. “There are far worse crimes than doing the wrong thing for the right reason. You just have to find a way to save the world without landing in jail.”

“That’s what Mitch said. Right before he fired me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” She opened her bottom drawer, pulled out a stack of files, and slammed them on her desk. “I need boxes.”

“I’ll go get you some.” He disappeared, and she continued to dump the contents of her career onto her desk. Five minutes later he returned with boxes. And Vito.

Dani held up her hand. “I know. You warned me.”

“Yes, I did.” Vito picked up a stack of papers and set them in a cardboard box. “I’ll take this down to Agatha.” Keys jingling, he walked to the elevator then stopped and turned. “Now you can move out of that apartment, and I can quit worrying.”

She shrugged. “Now it’s the only apartment I can afford.”

“You move in with us.”

Flicking a tear away, she blew him a kiss. “You’re my angel, Vito.”

Dani tossed the envelope from her final paycheck onto the kitchen table. It lodged between a bowl crusted with two-day-old Shredded Wheat and a cup of long-cold chai tea. Her canvas bag sat on the floor by the door, where she’d dropped it after walking out of the
Times
building with her career in a cardboard box. At least a week ago, maybe more.

Still in the baggy Twin Shadow shirt and worn-thin shorts she’d slept in two nights ago, she padded barefoot across the marble tiles and onto the champagne-colored carpet of her living room. As she stood in front of the window, a red-winged blackbird ducked its tail feathers into the birdbath then hopped in. A series of frenetic shakes and flaps shot water like a spasmodic sprinkler. Midday sunlight reflected off flying droplets. For the first time in a week, walking outside sounded slightly more appealing than sleeping. If she had what it took to put on real clothes, she might actually give in to the lure of sunshine. But she didn’t have what it took to think, much less get dressed. There were decisions to be made and she was vaguely aware that she had to make them.

Any day now she’d wake up at a time that could actually be called morning. She’d feel rested and ready to begin this new phase of life. She’d pick up a newspaper—one without her byline—and look for a job. And a cheaper place to live. Or she’d pack her shriveled pride and move back to her old room so her mother could have a fresh start at running her life.

“You move in with us.”

Maybe, Vito. Maybe.

Strange to be needing an apartment when she already had two. One in a neighborhood she couldn’t afford. The other in a neighborhood she couldn’t show her face in. The thought brought to mind the face of the Roman statue.

The last word she’d heard out of his mouth—as an EMT bent on one knee and Nicky loosened her arms from around his neck— was “stupid.” After leaving three rambling messages explaining why she’d done what she’d done, she’d given up on calling Nicky.

She’d given up on Nicky. Period.

But she had no idea what to do with the ache in her chest that threatened to double her over every time she thought of him. Did he think of her at all? Did he miss her, or had his anger blocked all the good times from his memory? Had he mailed the diary? Dani rested a fist on the windowsill. She’d expected him to call about that. Even if he couldn’t say a civil word about anything else, he should have had the decency to let her read the rest of it.

Rena had called twice and left tear-filled apologies on her voice mail. She had no idea who had told her she’d lost her job. Dani had answered with a text. I
T’s NOT YOUR FAULT
. T
ELL
C
HINA SHE CAN STAY IN THE APARTMENT FOR NOW.

For now.
Until the day she’d wake up with the energy to tell China she had to find another place.

As she headed for the bedroom, her phone bleeped. A text message, or the last dying gasp of an uncharged phone? She slogged across the carpet and found the phone buried under two charge card bills.

C
OMING OVER
. B
RINGING
A
NNA AND FOOD
. G
ET DRESSED.
Evan. How did he know she wasn’t dressed? Salt streaks tightened on her cheeks as she remembered how to smile. With a sigh that rearranged the mound of soggy Kleenex on the table, she trudged to the shower.

Sweat stung his eyes. It was too hot to run. Nicky’s new mantra slowed with the change in the pace of rubber slapping concrete.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

He’d ignored all her calls. Hadn’t even listened to her messages after the first one.
Sorry…sorry…good intentions…blah…blah… blah…

What he chastened himself for with every step was not the pride that refused to call her back, but the temporary insanity that had allowed him to fall for her in the first place. She was a loose cannon, an accident waiting to happen, and a dozen other clichés that described people a guy should avoid like the plague.

But those eyes. And the blush of sun on ivory skin. And the curves that made him act like his father. He swiped his forearm across his eyes and convinced himself it was only sweat. She’d only been in his life for a matter of weeks. People said it took three weeks to form a habit. This was one he needed to break, and cold turkey was the best way to do it.

He walked the last block home. Taking the steps two at a time, he almost tripped on Gianna, spot cleaning the carpet at the top of the stairs.

“Sit.” She patted the top step. “Doesn’t matter if you sweat on the rug today.” She sat back and leaned against the wall. “Talk.”

He sat, leaned against the opposite wall, and closed his eyes as the words roiled inside and foamed to the surface. “Is it too much to ask to meet a girl who is who she appears to be?”

“She lied to you?”

Had she? “Lies of omission.”

“Were her motives pure?”

“No. She was after a story.”

A damp salt-and-pepper curl rolled onto Gianna’s forehead as she bent to look him in the eyes. “And protecting Rena.”

Nicky slapped the floor.
“I’m
supposed to protect Rena.” His lips didn’t come together after blurting his sister’s name. Heat rose up the back of his already hot neck.

“So. There you have it.”

“What do you mean?”

Gianna smiled, squeezed his shoulder, and picked up her rag. “Think about it.”

“You want to help?” Dani punched the couch pillow under her head and rolled on her side to stare at her intervention committee. “Come with me to talk to China tomorrow. Help me pack up my stuff.”

Anna crossed tanned and waxed legs. “I have to go to a shower in Illinois with my future mom-in-law. Should you go back there? Is it safe?”

“No. That’s why I wanted you guys with me.”

“Says the lady with killer feet.” Evan squinted with one eye. “Or is it your heart you want us to protect? Worried about running into Spaghetti Man?”

The name, combined with the deadpan face, snapped the last, tight little shred of Dani’s sanity, and she laughed until fresh, healing tears, coursed onto her shirt. She stood, pulled Evan then Anna to their feet, and enveloped them both in a hug. “Thank you.” She grabbed a snippet of the Nicky dialogue that had become the soundtrack to a string of meaningless days. “I finally have a reason to smile.”

“Isn’t that a song?”
she’d answered.
“Or does the song say a reason to live?”

Find that.
A tiny voice whispered in a foggy crevice of her tired brain.
Find your reason to live.

Her phone rang. Mopping her face, she pulled away from her reasons to smile and picked it up. Was this her answer?
My reason?

My Nicky?

An unfamiliar number displayed on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hello.” An elderly woman’s voice. “Is this the woman who called Frank Brekken last week?”

“Yes it is. This is Danielle Gallagher.”

“This is Lois Brekken, Frank’s wife. I hope you don’t mind me calling. Is this a good time?”

“Yes.” She looked up at Evan. “How can I help you, Lois?”

“I overheard Frank’s side of your conversation. Have you mailed the diary yet?”

“No.” She thought of the leather book on the floor of Nicky’s car. “I’ve had some things get in the way, and I haven’t finished reading it.”
And maybe I never will.

“I understand. That’s how life is, isn’t it? The reason I’m calling is Frank’s birthday is in two weeks. Our boys will be here, and I was hoping Frank could share the diary with them. I don’t want to rush you, but—”

“It’s no problem. I’ll make sure it gets sent right away.”

“Thank you. You see”—Lois’s voice drew to a whisper—“Frank has cancer. He may not have as much time as he thinks.”

Dani wiped fresh tears as she punched the number she’d sworn she’d never dial again. Once again the recording stabbed her heart, and once again she spoke to a machine.

July 27, 1928

Bracciano’s side door slammed. Sweat rolling down reddened cheeks, Franky ran into the back room. “Can I hide under the table, Frazzie? I’m a bad guy, and Luca won’t ever find me there.”

Francie ruffled his hair and laughed. “Not now.” She pulled another linen napkin from a wicker basket and picked up the iron. “Get Luca and you two can help me fold.”

The side door slammed again. Footsteps pattered through the kitchen. Luca’s dark curls clung to his temples. He swiped the dampness from his forehead. “You’re not hided.”