Page 29

BARBARA

“ L unch today?” I glanced at the clock on the front table. “Sounds divine, but I just got Frankie down for his nap.” I hesitated. “And Frank has the car.”

“Oh, angel, I know.” Victor’s voice was languid and smooth as velvet. “He paid me a visit.”

I almost dropped the phone. “Come again?”

“He stopped by to chat,” he said, like it was nothing.

My heart beat against my ribs, frantic as a caged bird trying to break free. What had Frank said? What did he know? My knuckles strained as I gripped the receiver tighter.

“Barbara? You still there?”

“Yes. I’m here.” I forced myself to take a slow, deep breath. “What did he want?”

“Hmm, to size me up, I think.”

I could almost see Victor—reclining in his leather chair, feet propped on his desk, phone cradled casually against his ear, a smug half-smile playing on his lips. He enjoyed this far too much.

I closed my eyes, pressure building behind them like an impending storm. “Victor, please tell me.”

The silence on the other end stretched for an agonizing moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Serious. “He came to tell me you’d no longer be working for me.”

A short burst of incredulous laughter bubbled from my lips. “Of course he did,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him the truth,” Victor said. “That it’s your decision, not his.”

I leaned back against the wall. Relief and dread swirled together in my stomach like a volatile cocktail.

“Don’t worry,” he added. “He backed down. For now.”

For now . The words hung in the air like a guillotine blade.

“Barbara,” Victor said, his voice softer now, almost tender. “Say something, sweetheart.”

I pressed the receiver against my temple as if I could pull Victor’s warmth through the phone. “I’m just thinking.” The silence on the line crackled.

“Think over lunch,” Victor suggested. “You need to eat.”

I bit my lip, glancing at the kitchen. The remains of a hastily made sandwich lay abandoned on the counter. “Victor.” I hesitated. “Frankie is asleep. I can’t leave him.”

“When will he be up?”

“Around two,” I said, winding the telephone cord around my index finger so tightly the skin turned purple.

“I’ll come by and pick you both up,” he offered, his voice like melted chocolate—rich, smooth, and irresistible.

My heart skipped.

“No,” I said, perhaps too quickly. “The neighbors would talk.”

Victor chuckled a low, knowing rumble. “Let them. But if it concerns you that much…” He trailed off, considering. “There’s a small diner not far from you—Hanson’s on Wilshire and Fairfax. You know it?”

I pictured the intersection in my mind—bustling streets lined with palm trees and sun-bleached storefront facades. “Hanson’s—sure I know it.”

“The owner is a friend of mine. He’s got a discreet room in the back where we can meet privately. You could take the bus.”

My heart warred against my better judgment. The risks were obvious, but so was the pull toward the life he represented. “I suppose that could work,” I conceded. “But I’ll have Frankie with me. I can’t call my sister on such short notice.”

“I’d love to meet the tyke. Let’s say two-thirty?”

I let out a shaky breath and nodded. Realizing that he couldn’t see me, I murmured, “Perfect. See you then.”

“Wonderful,” Victor said, warmth curling around his words. “Until then, my darling.”

“ The wheels on the bus go round and round. ” I took Frankie’s hands in mine, guiding them in little circles in the air as we sang softly. His giggles bubbled up like a fountain, pulling a smile from me despite the tight knot in my stomach.

The bus jostled us as it turned a corner, and I held Frankie closer, kissing the top of his tousled hair. Outside the window, familiar streets passed by in a blur. We were getting closer, and my heart started to race.

Frankie pointed out the window. “Look, Mama! A big dog!”

Sure enough, a shaggy mutt trotted down the sidewalk, bushy tail wagging.

“Woof woof!” Frankie beamed, bouncing on my lap. Enthusiasm spread across his face and lit up his eyes.

I smoothed his hair. “That’s right, sweetheart.”

The intersection of Wilshire and Fairfax came into view, and I tugged the cord above the window. The bus began to slow, and the brakes hissed as we pulled up to the curb.

“Almost there, darling,” I told Frankie, adjusting him on my hip as we stood and made our way to the front of the bus. The driver eased the door open, and we stepped out into the bright afternoon sun. I shaded my eyes and looked toward the diner.

“Mommy has to see a friend real quick,” I said as I set Frankie down on his stout little legs and took his hand in mine. As we walked, I continued, “It won’t take long. Then we’ll get ice cream.”

Frankie squealed with delight as he curled his fingers around mine. “Okay, Mama.”

I took a deep breath, forcing my nerves into check, and led him toward the diner.

A bell tinkled overhead as I pushed open the door.

The diner gleamed with chrome and turquoise vinyl, its long counter lined with swivel stools.

A jukebox in the corner crackled out a scratchy rendition of “Bewitched,” and the thick scent of bacon grease and griddled beef clung to the air.

I scanned the room and saw no immediately familiar faces.

A stout man with a thick mustache approached, wiping his hands on a grease-streaked apron. “Can I help you, miss?”

I shifted Frankie closer, scanning the room again. “We’re meeting someone.”

The man gave a slight nod, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His breath reeked of garbage, and I fought the urge to lean away as his voice rattled like crumpled newspaper.

“If you’re looking for Mr. Cardello, he’s in the back. Follow me.”

He led us past the counter, through a swinging door, and into a small room with a single booth.

The walls were lined with framed photographs, their edges yellowed and curling from years of heat rolling off the kitchen.

A rickety ceiling fan spun overhead, stirring the thick air into sluggish ripples.

Victor stood as we entered. His tall frame cast a long shadow over the booth, the soft glow of the overhead bulb catching on the sharp cut of his charcoal-gray suit. His dark hair was slicked to a perfect shine.

“Barbara,” he greeted smoothly, stretching out an arm to take my hand. He kissed it lightly, sending an electric jolt skittering across my skin as he locked his intense eyes with mine. He bent down to Frankie. “And this must be Frank. Hello, young man.”

I placed a hand on my son’s shoulder. “Say hello, Frankie.”

Frankie looked up at Victor with curious eyes. “Hello.”

“He’s got your eyes,” Victor said, looking up at me. “A striking young lad.”

I remained standing, glancing at the door behind me.

“Sit, please,” Victor urged as he straightened up. “You make me nervous standing there like that.”

I chuckled as I ushered Frankie into the booth. “I didn’t think anything could make you nervous.”

“Ah, then I hide it well. Inside, my heart’s knocking like a salesman on payday.” He placed a hand over his chest with a lopsided grin.

My shoulders relaxed, and a smile crept onto my lips. I slid into the booth beside Frankie, who was busy examining the menu, his little fingers tracing over the pictures. Victor sat across from us and leaned in, his presence commanding even in the cramped space.

“He’s adorable,” Victor said, his voice low, eyes flicking between me and Frankie. “I’ve ordered some milkshakes. I hope that’s all right.”

Frankie’s face lit up, and he looked to me for approval. I nodded, though my mind was elsewhere—Victor, so close, his cologne cutting through the greasy air, was almost too much to bear. All I wanted to do was throw myself into his arms, consequences be damned.

“Thank you,” I said, forcing the words through a tight throat. “That’s very kind.”

Victor leaned back, casually draping an arm over the top of the booth. “I’m so glad you came.” His eyes almost twinkled as he smiled at me, the finest of lines spreading out from the creases of his eyelids.

“So, this isn’t the part where you hand me a pink slip over a milkshake?” I deflected, arching a brow.

Victor’s smile widened. “Fire you? Never. My days would be utterly unbearable without you in them.”

Relief washed over me, cooling the feverish tension that had built during the bus ride. Victor’s assurances were a balm, though doubt still lingered like a fresh bruise.

The swinging door squeaked open, and a young waitress appeared, balancing a tray laden with three tall glasses.

Condensation dripped down the sides, pooling onto the chipped enamel surface as she set them down with a clatter.

Frankie’s eyes widened, round as saucers, at the sight of the whipped cream and cherry crowning the milkshake in front of him.

“Enjoy,” the waitress chirped, her voice cutting through the hum of the ceiling fan.

Frankie lunged for his glass, but I intercepted his hands before he could send it toppling onto his lap.

“Easy, darling. Don’t spill.” I scooped up a spoonful of whipped cream and offered it to placate him. He accepted eagerly, his face lighting up in pure, unfiltered joy. I eyed Victor. “You do realize he’ll be up half the night now with all this sugar.”

Victor leaned back in his seat with a lazy shrug. “Let the boy live a little.”

“When he’s still bouncing off the walls at midnight, I’ll remember the part you played.”

“If I’m not keeping you up at midnight, I’m not doing my job right.” He winked, his voice smooth as silk.

Heat flooded my cheeks. I took a long sip of my milkshake, hoping the thick, rich chocolate would cool the warmth creeping up my neck.

Victor’s gaze settled on Frankie, who had a ring of whipped cream around his mouth like a clown’s smile. His expression softened, though a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.

“I never knew my Margaret at this age,” he said wistfully.

“I’m sure she was a cherub.”