“I think I want something. I need to have…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Right now I have to get through two weeks with David McKay. And I just don’t know how to do that.”
Dani gave her a little shake, making Addy look up. “Adriana D’Angelo! Stop talking like such a weakling. You come from one of the toughest, most sensible families I’ve ever met. You’re a helicopter pilot. You run this stable. You’re considering being a single parent. You take on responsibilities that would send a weaker woman screaming for help.”
“I can make rose radishes and you can’t.” She gave a watery smile. “That doesn’t make me exceptional.”
“Well, you are,” Dani said. “All right. So this idiot is suddenly in your face again. It shouldn’t even be a blip on your radar. You can handle him. So maybe he had the power to turn your knees to jelly ten years ago, but if he thinks you’re going to fall for moonlight and roses still, he’s dead wrong. You’re wiser and he has no power over you. He’s just another guest.”
“He’s more than that.”
“No, he’s not. Your father would say he’s not a problem, he’s just a challenge you haven’t found an answer for yet.”
Losing the impulse to lie, Addy shook her head. “My father doesn’t know David McKay was my first lover. The man who got me pregnant.”
Dani’s mouth parted in surprise. “What?”
“No one knows it, but I miscarried a little boy three days after David left town.”
CHAPTER THREE
LATE THAT EVENING, IN her guest bedroom at Lightning River Lodge, Geneva sat on the side of the bed and looked down at the box containing her late husband’s ashes. She didn’t really believe Herbert was there. In fact, she was quite sure he watched over her from heaven. But when she spoke to him—and she often did—she liked to have this touchstone close. She supposed she was getting old, acting so foolishly sentimental.
“Now don’t fret, Herbert,” she said. “What I told David was only a tiny, harmless bit of deception. He needs this so much. Ulcers and headaches and wrinkles on his forehead at his young age—why, our boy’s a walking medical journal.”
She wiped a minuscule bit of lint out of a crevice on the lid. In the early years of their marriage, back before arthritis had played such havoc with his fingers, Herbert had carved this notions box for her. No one knew that—not even David.
“I miss you so much,” she said softly, then shook her head, refocusing her thoughts. “He’s not happy, Herbert. All that success, and he’s miserable, I tell you. I know you never liked me to meddle, but I just couldn’t let it go on without trying to do something. I have a good feeling about this trip.”
There was a light tap on her bedroom door. She’d been expecting it and she went quickly to answer, pulling the sash of her robe tighter.
“Come in,” she said softly. She glanced up and down the hallway. “Did anyone see you?”
“Not a soul,” Sam D’Angelo answered with a conspiratorial grin.
SAM HAD SETTLED INTO one of two chairs by the window. He smiled again at Geneva, feeling like a guilty child. He had always been the kind of man who loved intrigue, and lately there had been so little of it in his life. He felt revitalized and excited by the plot he and Geneva had hatched.
“Everyone’s asleep,” he told Geneva as she took the other chair.
“What about Rose?”
He waved away that concern. “Rosa knows I like to make one last check of the downstairs before I go to bed. She won’t suspect a thing.”
That was crucial, because if there was one person who could put the brakes on this whole scheme, it was his wife. Sam loved Rosa dearly, but the woman had no sense of adventure and thought people ought to mind their own business. A first-class spoilsport.
A few months ago, Sam had gone to Geneva in secret with the idea of hiring her to paint his wife’s portrait. In her younger years, his friend had been Geneva St. John, a fairly well-known artist, and it seemed the perfect gift for Rosa’s upcoming birthday.
But as they’d talked, the conversation had stretched into memories of the past, when her grand-son, David, and his only daughter, Adriana, had been so close. They knew that a major argument had taken place, harsh words had been exchanged. But wasn’t it a shame that the two families hadn’t been connected through marriage after all?
Before the afternoon had gone, they’d agreed that maybe something could be done to change that. Surely enough time had passed. Both their children were unattached. Perhaps because they still cared for one another. Wouldn’t it be lovely if that spark between them could be fanned to life again?
Nothing came of that idea until Addy had dropped her bomb about checking out a sperm bank in Denver. It was then that Sam knew it was time to fly into action.
In the end, it had been much easier than they’d expected. A legitimate excuse to hire Addy. A well-timed telephone call to David. The right incentive.
And…here they were.
“How did it go at your place?” Sam asked.
“Tense,” Geneva admitted. “I felt like a referee. David was frustrated with both of us. Addy was trying to pretend she wasn’t shocked. And did you see how uncomfortable she was tonight whenever David’s name came up? You can’t tell me they don’t feel something for each other anymore.”
“I just hope what they feel is enough,” Sam said with a shake of his head. He was Italian. He believed in the power of true love. But his daughter could be a stubborn woman sometimes. If her mind was made up about artificial insemination, this could all be wasted effort.
No. He refused to believe that.
Geneva sighed, and Sam knew she agreed. “I do wish David had gotten off to a better start with her. I don’t want them to get on each other’s nerves so much that they can’t see they’re still in love. I’ll just have to ask Herbert to put a bug in his ear to behave.”
Sam rubbed his hands together. “Dio! I wish I could make this trip with you.”
“Me, too. Can it be a conspiracy if only one person’s there to do all the plotting?”
“I’m counting on you,” Sam said with a wink. “Addy said she has stops planned along the way to replenish supplies. Think you can slip away once in a while to give me an update on how it’s going?”
“I’ll certainly try. I just hope we’re doing the right thing.”
Sam pounded his fist on his thigh. “Damn it! I refuse to see my daughter continue to sit on the shelf like some Victorian spinster or run off to make a baby with a petri dish. D’Angelos are not created in chemistry labs.”
“But what if her mind’s made up?”
“Impossible! She’s confused, conflicted about what she’s doing with her life. But once she remembers what it’s like with that grandson of yours…” He stood, slipping into his metal crutches. “Well, good luck, G. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“I suspect you’d do almost anything.”
“True,” Sam admitted. “Now I’d better get back to Rosa before she comes looking for me.”
“It wouldn’t do for her to find you in my room,” Geneva said with a light laugh.
“Ha!” Sam said. “Rosa knows the only woman who’s a threat to her is Sophia Loren.” He leaned over to hug Geneva. “Be careful out there.”
Sam made his way back to his own bedroom. The lights were off, but he didn’t need them. After all these years