Ring of Truth (9 page)

The waiter interrupted with the check just then and Ren paused to sign the credit card receipt. Kerry took that as a signal to rise from her seat, threading her way through the restaurant with her escort following along behind. Once in Ren's car, she turned and offered a tight smile.

“Thanks again for dinner. It was delicious.”

“We discussed the food, but didn't particularly savor it,” Ren countered. “You haven't answered my question. Why did you shut down on me?”

Kerry was caught off guard by Ren's refusal to pretend their dinner date was a casual affair that had simply fizzled between two people who barely knew each other. Feeling the heat of his steady glance, she hesitated for a moment and felt a pulse of energy shoot up her arm.

“Here's the deal: on the flight coming out here Friday, I broke up with my live-in boyfriend and business partner of over a year because I found out he was having a Facebook—and now a real life—affair with his former high school girlfriend who just happens to be our
new
boss at LifeStyleXer. I'm afraid I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Good God!”

Kerry said crossly, “Well,
you
appear to have a tangled situation of your own, so...”

She couldn't think how to finish her sentence. After all, she'd just
met
the man who was now piloting his Mercedes up California Street, away from the downtown W Hotel.

Ren stared straight ahead, driving in silence a few minutes more until, at length, he said, “I am not involved with Sara Lang on any level that I think you're assuming I might be.”

Why did Kerry get the sense that—as with President Clinton's denial of his relationship with Monica Lewinsky—Ren had parsed his last sentence
very
carefully?

She was about to respond when he continued, “I'd still like to discuss one of the other reasons I asked you to dinner, besides wanting to thank you for yesterday. Will you have a quick nightcap with me at the Top of the Mark? I wouldn't be a good ambassador to San Francisco if I didn't show you the view.” She could feel him studying her profile when he added, “Please, Kerry.”

Ren continued to drive the car up California Street's steep incline, past Powell. She gave a brief nod of assent, then saw that right beside them, an iconic San Francisco cable car was creaking up the hill.

“It's amazing those old things are still running,” she commented, hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere in the car.

“Those babies are more than a hundred and forty years old, but they draw a lot of tourists to this town, so somehow the city engineers keep them going.”

Wisps of fog had begun to swirl around the hood of their car as it crested Nob Hill, a summit that featured a square park surrounded by a group of magnificent buildings. On Kerry's right stood the six-story “wedding cake” beaux-arts Fairmont Hotel.

“It was restored after the disastrous earthquake and firestorm of 1906,” Ren explained, his tone acquiring the
politesse
of a tour guide. On the north side of the park he pointed out the former Flood mansion—a brownstone that now served as the exclusive Pacific Union Club.

“Still only male members, I read somewhere,” Kerry said.

“Right. Some of us have been trying to change that, but so far... no go.”

On their left was the much taller Mark Hopkins Hotel. Below, Ren pointed to the Stanford Court, and in the other direction, near the towering Grace Cathedral, the Huntington Hotel.

“Some of these hotels on Nob Hill replaced the mansions destroyed in the quake that had belonged to the four railroad barons that built the western section of the transcontinental route... and so these post-quake buildings were named in their honor.”

Ren wheeled the car into the gated and bricked courtyard of the Mark Hopkins and immediately liveried doormen on both sides assisted them out of their vehicle.

Kerry began to shiver in the damp, cold air. She wrapped her arms around her upper body, hurrying toward the hotel's entrance. Ren quickly caught up with her and put a protective arm around her shoulders clad in a thin sweater.

“First lesson in San Francisco. Whatever the season, always carry a fleece jacket,” he joked, and Kerry could feel herself smiling in spite of the dark mood that had overtaken her at dinner.

Ren guided her up the red-carpeted steps, through the revolving glass door, and into the warmth of the plush lobby. Kerry was surprised when he kept his arm around her, even as they waited for the elevator which, when it arrived, whisked them nineteen floors to the hotel's former penthouse, now a bar with reputedly the best view of both bridges in the entire city.

Stepping out onto the top floor, Kerry halted in her tracks.

“What a shame. Look at how thick the fog is up here. There's absolutely
no
view.”

“Good,” Ren declared. “We have to talk. You'll see the view another day. Come... shall we take that table in the corner?”

 A waiter across the empty room gestured they could sit anywhere they liked.

“A stinger?” Ren asked her when a member of the staff came swiftly to their side, since they were virtually the only customers.

“Fine,” she said with a nod, wondering why Ren couldn't have said whatever he had to say to her in the car on the way back to her hotel.

“Two stingers,” he repeated to their waiter who left to fetch drinks made of brandy and
crème de menthe
. Ren fingered the corner of his cocktail napkin and then abruptly declared, “I still wish you'd tell me why things went sideways with us back there at Boulevard, but since you don't seem to want to talk any more about it, I might as well just say what's on
my
mind: I want you to come work at the ranch. Starting tomorrow.”

“What?”

Kerry seriously doubted she'd actually heard Renato Montisi correctly. Had he just offered her the job of her dreams?

“Come work for me.
With
me,” he amended

“But I only started my new job out here on Friday!”

“I know that,” he said with a laugh. “But
my
job offer includes full-time housing,” he added with a sly smile, watching her reaction. “A cottage of your own on the property... and a few other nice perks like healthcare. Bonuses, too, if we do well.”

And any other additions you had in mind?

Kerry knew that thought had
not
come from the Claddagh and felt heat flood her cheeks.

“But if Jeremy is sick, you need a full-time chef, won't you, and I just signed this iron-clad contract and—”

“The Montisi Olive Ranch needs a lot more than a cook,” he replied tersely. “I need an ace director of marketing and public relations, to say nothing of better content and digital management on our website and—most importantly—a product development person if we're to survive as a small, artisanal producer. I saw from your old website, you didn't just write a blog. I need someone to do a lot of the kind of work you did for the company you sold to LifeStyleXer.”

“That's only because we were a four-person start-up! All of us did
everything
, including making the coffee.”

“Well, we're a small enterprise as well, and your experience in your start-up, along with all the other things you can do, makes you the perfect person for the job.”

“But I've lived in a city all my life! I know nothing about ranching.”

“We have to make
more
than just olive oil, Kerry, or the Montisi Ranch can't continue. We need to develop other products using the remnants left after the olives' first pressing and market and distribute them, just as you would with any item made in New York or New Jersey,” he declared. “We also have to figure out ways to get more people to
pay
to visit the ranch. I think a compelling Internet presence like you developed for your own website is how we could do that.”

“But Ren—”

“You are one of those rare people that knows tech stuff
and
the specialty food world
and
how to drive traffic to our Internet business selling whatever the heck we figure out to do besides just making olive oil.” He flashed her his killer grin. “
And
you're a great cook.”

“And you think
I
can do all that?”

“There you go... underestimating yourself, again. Absolutely I think you can do it... and
more
. Even more to the point, I think it's work you would
love
!”

Kerry frowned as she allowed Ren's words to sink in. When she didn't answer him, he ran his fingers distractedly through his dark blond mane.

“Besides all your knowledge of the food world, you have style. You can turn on a dime. You're flexible... a team player... fun to be around... considerate of your underlings—”

Kerry felt a wash of pleasure hearing such kind words. Except for her godmother, it had been a long time since she'd been offered praise like this. She suddenly thought of Angelica with a pang of longing. If only she could hop a cab and spend some time in her wise, comforting presence discussing what happened with Charlie and, now, these new complications in her life....

Just then, their waiter appeared with their drinks and she paused until he had departed. Then she shook her head.

“Look, Ren, I can't tell you how flattered I am by your proposal, but I signed a deal with the company I moved out here to work for, and they think my blog is part of their value now, especially as they tee up their public offering. They'll
never
let me out of my contract so quickly.”

Now it was Ren's turn to remain silent. Kerry wondered what else he could possibly come up with that could surmount the many impediments confronting the possibility of her becoming part of the team at the ranch.

At length he said, “Maybe there's a compromise here. Maybe you can keep up the blogging part of your current job—which is your principal value to them, right? In fact, doing that would probably only
benefit
us at the ranch, too. You could work mostly from Petaluma, and persuade the CEO to assign someone else the management of the other bloggers recruited for the ten cities.” He paused and his smile was faintly calculating. “Your old boyfriend might be just the candidate for that job. Make him work for those stock options, for God's sake.”

Kerry couldn't help but laugh. Then she grew somber.

“But there's one big problem with your scheme. The HR witch says no WAH.”

“HR?” Ren said, his tone communicating his disdain. “Those people would be prison guards if they hadn't gotten jobs in the digital industry. You've only been dealing with the bean counters. You're
good,
” he said urgently. “
More
than good. You're spectacular in all that you do. Top brass really don't care anymore
where
you do your work as long it's as first-rate as yours is. I can speak from experience on this. Ask for what you
want
from them and you might be surprised what the CEO will say. Meanwhile, what I'm offering is a job where
all
your many talents would be put to good use!”

“You sound like an executive recruiter, not a rancher.”

Ren's intense scrutiny felt as if she was suddenly minus every stitch of clothing.

“I know what I want and I'll do everything I can to get it.”

“And you've decided you want me? On your payroll, I mean,” she amended, “after seeing me work at your ranch only one day?”

“In a word, yes. I can't believe I've just met the one person exactly suited to help me figure out other events and activities at the ranch that people would pay for to keep this hundred-year-old place afloat.”

“But, Ren—”

He didn't even let her finish her sentence.

“Look, Kerry... let me say to you what I told my grandmother today: if we can't figure out how to make this ranch pay its way, we'll have to consider selling most of the land before she passes—or she'll have to move out of the San Francisco Towers within the year.”

Kerry considered what it would be like for Angelica to have to leave her home in New York at her age. “That's terrible! Are you certain it's as dire as that?”

 “After this year's harvest, I did a thorough audit,” Ren said, grim-faced. “The ranch is in a cutthroat, competitive business where some of the giant olive oil producers and distributors in this country and Europe sell fraudulently labeled, unregulated products that have sat in vats for
years.
Their rock-bottom prices sold to unsuspecting customers are driving us right out of business. The expenses involved in running an honest operation
and
paying Concetta's costs in that luxurious retirement home don't add up anymore,” he explained soberly. “If I can't turn the ranch into a viable enterprise—I'll have to go back to the VC business and sell the place so Concetta can remain where she is.”

“Would selling the ranch to keep her at the Towers be okay with her?”

A shadow of deep sorrow invaded Ren's features. It was an expression she'd witnessed when she'd rushed to Angelica's apartment in the late afternoon on 9/11.

“The last thing that should happen is for my grandmother to be forced to move—
or
sell the ranch,” Ren replied. “Either choice would probably kill her in a week.”

Ren's somber mood signaled to Kerry that his efforts to recruit her services had been a sort of Hail Mary pass aimed at remedying a situation that was a lot more dismal than she could have imagined yesterday when everything seemed utterly idyllic in Renato Montisi's world.

Meanwhile, her mind was spinning. On one hand, she was utterly drawn to the life she'd glimpsed at the ranch, to say nothing of the sense that a magnetic force neither she nor Ren could explain was pulling them closer by the second. Still, the sensible,
logical
part of her brain told her that the notion of forsaking LifeStyleXer, and all its potential “upside,” as Charlie would surely term it, to come work for an enterprise teetering on the brink of apparent insolvency might prove to be the worst of both worlds.

No guts, no glory, Kerry m'girl!

Kerry refused to glance down at her ring.
Why
was life always so complicated, she mourned silently? So many things had piled on top of her and suddenly, it was all too
much
: Charlie's betrayal... the sheer self-interest and meanness of Beverly Silverstein and the HR trolls she'd had to confront... her stupidity to have signed a contract she hadn't read carefully... the loss of familiar surroundings and... most of all, the absence of Angelica's calm presence. As Maggie Doyle once said: she just didn't have the bandwidth to deal with it all! She grasped for a way to let Ren down gently.

“Your proposal is amazing and totally unexpected, but it would definitely cause an uproar where I work.” She took a large sip of her stinger to buy time to
think,
acutely conscious that Ren was gazing at her with unsettling intensity.

“Is what I'm proposing something you'd
want
to do if you weren't in the situation you find yourself in at your company—and with your boyfriend?”

“Charlie Miller?
Ex
boyfriend!”

“Ex,” he repeated. “And glad to hear it. But on its own merits, Kerry,” he pressed, “what do you think of the idea of us working together to make the ranch self-sustaining and maybe even
profitable
?”

I would so love to do that...

There was no concealing the pure joy she'd felt cooking in that wonderful kitchen for people who cared about food as much as she did, or the satisfaction of being part of a team in a beautiful place like the Montisi Olive Ranch. But there were so many obstacles standing in the way, she thought, and they came rushing at her, one by one.

“Your offer is—in a word—wonderful,” she told him frankly, “but how can it work? Don't you see, Ren? You're asking me somehow to wiggle out of a binding contract I recently signed, forfeit my big pay day after LifeStyleXer goes public, and come to work for you at an admittedly shaky enterprise—just like that?”

“Yup. Just like that.” His demeanor had shifted and Kerry knew she was catching a glimpse of Renato Montisi, the hard-nosed executive. “We're grown ups now, Kerry. We get to choose what we want. We also sometimes have to make hard choices.”

“Hard doesn't begin to describe what's happened to me in the last week.”

Refusing to offer sympathy, Ren asked baldly, “How much will they pay you for those carrot-and-stick stock options?”

“I get half a million bucks if I hang in two years past the IPO that's scheduled immediately after New Year's. After that, I'd get more stock, the longer I stayed... that is, if they still like what I do,” she amended, thinking of the contract's clause stipulating that her supervisor could can her at any point.

“Well...” Ren considered slowly, “I didn't think recruiting you would be easy, but... wow... five hundred K, plus. They must
really
think you're one of their gold-plated assets—and they're right.”

“Thank you. I never quite believed it myself.”

“I can see that.” Ren remained silent for a moment and Kerry could tell he was carefully considering his next words. “What if you
didn't
quit your job, but simply came to live on the ranch and helped us out as much as you could until two years are up, when you could decide if life at the ranch suits a city girl like you?”

“You'd wait that long and risk my not giving you as much of my time as you need
now
to help fix things with the business?”

“Yes, I would,” he said. “I know you wouldn't stint on what you committed to do for the ranch. That's how much of a difference I think you could make in our enterprise.”

“Wow,” was all Kerry could manage to reply.

“I'll give you the Mercedes so you can drive back and forth to the city.” At her look of astonishment, he shrugged. “I like driving the truck. You'd continue your routine as a food blogger and your other duties for LifeStyleXer... and given that you won't be paying for rent or food at the ranch—and they're paying you at least some salary to boot—I bet your company could get the W Hotel to make you a deal booking a room there two days a week. That way, you can be at the ranch Wednesdays through Sundays and only be locked up in your cubicle Mondays and Tuesdays!” he finished triumphantly.

Kerry wondered if Ren had stayed up all the previous night plotting strategy to convince her to take the job.

By this time, his signature grin had spread across his handsome features. “And here's another bonus: I promise I won't work you to death the first two years and we'd share the workload on new projects at the ranch, fifty-fifty.”

“Better make it more like eighty-twenty, with you doing most of the heavy lifting for a long while,” she cautioned. Then, recalling Angelica's penetrating questions before she left New York, she asked Ren, “Oh. And if I said yes to this crazy scheme of yours, what's my salary down the road?”

“Well, when we know this is going to work for both of us, I'll grant you the same amount I'll be paying myself, plus a participation position in the ranch's overall business.”

“You obviously learned at the knee of
The Godfather
. You're pretty much making me an offer I can't refuse.”

“That's my plan.”

Kerry's excitement had gone from mere bubbles in her solar plexus to a rolling boil. It
was
, in fact, her dream job—or would be, eventually, if she and Ren could make all the moving parts work properly.

A studied risk is what this is...

Working at the Montisi Olive Ranch could certainly prove a failure, but Ren's plan had all the ingredients that—if the two of them worked hard and had some luck—could result in sublime success.

“And this agreement between us will all be in writing?” she pressed.

“Every word.” He seized her hand once more, and a wave of adrenaline shot up her arm. “I witnessed you operating with tremendous grace and goodwill under terrible pressure. That was all I needed to
know
you're the kind of person I've been praying would come along.”

Kerry suddenly recalled her godmother Angelica's words about her husband Brian and their getting engaged in a week. “We just
knew
!” she'd exclaimed.

He's just speaking professionally...
Kerry scolded herself, and immediately she felt another jolt skitter up her arm.

No, he's not!

When she glanced down at her hand, the heart-shaped stone was pulsing pure white. Meanwhile, Ren was pointing out the window beside them.

“Well! Will you look over there? See how fast the fog lifted. There must be strong winds out there on the Bay.” He smiled at her confidently. “Before you give me your final answer, I want to show you something.”

He pulled her from her chair and led her to another window facing north, swinging his right arm under her chin and around her shoulders as if they'd known each other forever. The next thing she knew, her back was pressing against his chest.

“Just look at the Golden Gate Bridge, lit up, over there,” he murmured. His breath near her ear was pleasantly laced with brandy in the stinger he'd sipped. With his free left hand, he pointed at the bridge aglow against the night sky. “To me, it's one of the most beautiful sights in the world... and the road across it leads toward everything I love.” Ren turned her around to face him. “Please, Kerry... I know we've known each other exactly three days and you're probably still licking your wounds about what happened to the partnership that brought you to San Francisco—”

“I'm well out of that, believe me,” she murmured, feeling as if she might faint from the sensation of the two of them standing so close. “I'm still pretty stunned by everything that's happened this week.”

“So am I, in a way,” he confessed, pulling her against him so that her hips brushed his pelvis, sending shock waves clear through her. “After you left, yesterday, it came to me, all of a sudden, in a way I can't explain. It just seemed like our talents and sensibilities would be a perfect match for everything that's important in my life.” He nodded in the direction of the glowing bridge. “Please say you'll take that road out there.”

 Kerry sensed that any second now, he would lean down and kiss her.

“And here I thought you were just going to offer me a job as a temporary cook,” she teased, tilting her face toward his.

 Ren wrapped his arms around her waist so she had nowhere to look except into his eyes that had turned the color of dark amber shaded by the blackness of the night outside. No one except her godparents had ever given her a sense of being protected like she felt in his arms. Ren cocked his head to one angle, their lips nearly touching.

“Those blue eyes of yours... your hair,” he whispered. “Hannigan, you're something else, you know that?”

Kerry raised her hand to brush the backs of her fingers along the side of his cheek when a sudden, alarming thought brought her up short.

“But what about Sara?” she blurted. “How will... adding me to the crew at the ranch sit with
her
?”

Renato took a step back and remained silent for nearly the count of ten. Then, he turned away from her and stared out the window at the crystal lights twinkling in the distance.

“She won't like it,” he stated flatly. “Just like she didn't like it when I married her sister.”

“Sara Lang is your
sister-in-law
?” Kerry exclaimed. “Well,
that's
a little factlette you neglected to disclose!”

 A mental file folder spilled out all the instances when Sara-of-the-blond-pigtails had been rude and possessive, and behaving like a jealous lover, not a grieving sister of Ren's late wife. Without so much as a glance at the Claddagh ring, she turned abruptly, marched over to their abandoned table, and grabbed her purse.

Ren was right behind her.

“Wait, Kerry! Where are you going?”

“To get a cab.” She turned. “Don't you get it? I don't want any more
drama
like this in my life!”

“I told you before, my wife died! She was killed in a skiing accident.”

“Really? So one sister passes away and you road-test another?” Kerry snapped, turning away to head in the direction of the elevator.

Ren seized her arm to keep her from leaving. Instead of the furious expression she expected to see, he merely looked exasperated.

“You
are
still licking those wounds over that Charlie guy, aren't you?” he said, releasing her from his grip when she turned to face him.

“Not really,” she retorted. “And don't tell me you didn't notice,” she added sarcastically, “that your sister-in-law has the hots for you.”

“Just to be clear,” Ren countered, “and in case you were still wondering, Sara and I have
never
had an intimate relationship before, during or after I married her sister.”

“Well, she sure acts as if you have! Trust me, Ren, I don't need another hairball like the one I'm already dealing with, and Sara's rotten attitude toward just about
everything
has all the makings of one!”

“At least let me explain why she's on the ranch.”

Kerry took a deep breath.

Hear him out, silly girl!

She sighed with resignation. “Okay. Shoot.”

For a long moment, Ren gazed out the big, plate-glass window that faced the Golden Gate Bridge, its blinking red tower beacons warning off low-flying aircraft. Kerry could tell he was watching a movie she couldn't see.

“After Sandra died three... almost four years ago now, her sister, Sara, went into an emotional tailspin. To put it bluntly, she had a nervous breakdown—or close to it. Her family couldn't deal with her, so I said my sister-in-law could come live at the ranch until she got back on her feet. She's been a total pain in the ass since the day I met her in college, but I felt sorry for her. We all did.”

Kerry froze. Her experience with Charlie
had
prompted her to jump to conclusions. Sara's presence on the Montisi Ranch was an act of charity on Ren's part. She could feel color rising in her cheeks.

“Oh. Oh hell!” Kerry said, turning to face him. “Ren, I am so sorry—”

“As I said, it's been over three years since Sandra's accident. Sara's a lot more stable now, and I'm the first one who wants her to move on with her life, but—”

“How did the accident happen?”

Ren remained silent for a long moment. Then he answered, “If you come across the street with me, I'll tell you the whole sorry tale.”

“Across the street?” she echoed. “Why across the street?”

“Because the bar's closing and I booked a room at the Fairmont for tonight.”

Kerry frowned.

Ren quickly added, “I have a meeting with my banker first thing tomorrow. I didn't feel like driving back to the ranch tonight and turning right around to come to the city tomorrow morning. And besides, the manager is a friend. He gives me a friends and family discount.”

“Oh,” was all she could manage, her mind skittering toward thoughts she knew she shouldn't be having.