The Heart Of The Game (35 page)

The next morning Cody waited at the desk to check out. Scenes from dinner the night before still crowded his mind.

He’d had to explain again and again about their “snow adventure,” providing enough details to satisfy without stirring more interest. But that wasn’t the worst part of the evening.

Zoe had played the part of the wife of the squire of Bracebridge Hall with an ease that had made him uncomfortable. From the first fanfare of trumpets heralding the beginning of the feast to the women in jeweled velvet gowns and men in tights and feathered caps who had escorted him to his table inside the candlelit hall, he’d known he was in for a long night. Some guests had been playacting, a once-a-year fantasy. But he didn’t need the fancy costumes and pageantry to remind him that it was all quite similar to the life Zoe had come from. The costumes and other details were different, but the reality underlying it—the wealth and the privilege—were the same. He should’ve known better than to fall for an Italian aristocrat. But then, the first moment he’d seen her, he hadn’t known. He sure did now. He cursed. Why the hell couldn’t she have been one of the catering staff as he’d thought she was when he’d first seen her? A Sonoma girl head over heels with California and baseball and—

“Pardon me, Mr. Bond, but do you have another credit card?” The woman at the registration desk smiled, her gentle voice zapping him back from his thoughts. Pasted on her face was one of those smiles that said
oh, you poor soul, you’re over your credit limit
. But he wasn’t.

“Run it again. I’m sure it’s good.”

“I ran it twice, sir.”

He had plenty of credit for the room, but he fished in his wallet and gave her a second card. Waited, drumming his fingers on the counter, until she returned with the same look on her face and handed the card back to him.

“I’m sorry, sir. We do have an ATM. And we accept checks.”

He always kept an emergency check in his wallet. He wrote out the check and handed it to her.

“Thank you, Mr. Bond.” She looked down at his bill. “I’m sorry, I see that there’s a message here for you.” She reached beneath the counter and pulled out an envelope.

He fingered the envelope with its careful, sloping script, then pocketed it as he walked to an imposing chair in front of the fireplace. He sat down, staring into the flames. Fraud happened, he knew. But both cards? In the same night? It didn’t make sense. He opened the envelope.

Cody,

I’m sorry we didn’t have the chance to speak in private last night. Thank you for keeping my confidence. I will make my plans known to my family soon. You asked what I loved. I hope to figure that out when I return home. Since my mother died I’ve had to relearn almost everything I knew about life... what I believed... what I hoped for. You have helped to open my eyes and I am grateful.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m usually a much more gathered person.

Zoe

He read the note twice. What he had opened her eyes to, he wasn’t sure. But he sure as hell knew what she’d opened his to. He’d fallen in love with her. He couldn’t deny that fact. He’d never considered that a woman would shift his world as she had. But he was sure of one thing—he wasn’t going to be the man who kept her from doing what was important to her, no matter how damned hard it was to face up to the pain of letting her go.

Her path was now clear, and he couldn’t fault her for following it. Yet he had to see to himself. He had both feet in and now it was time to dig himself out.

He heard Brigitte’s voice in the hallway behind the chair. She laughed and said that she was game for a hot night in a snow cave any day. Cody couldn’t make out her companion’s quiet reply—eavesdropping wasn’t a tool he thought highly of and rarely practiced. But when Brigitte said that the Gualdieri guy had the hots for Zoe, Cody listened intently. But they passed beyond his hearing before he learned anything else. He stood and looked around, but didn’t see either Brigitte or anyone he knew in the lobby.

He walked to the ATM to withdraw cash in case he needed gas. The slip the machine spit out told him he had no funds in his account. He knew better. He always kept ten thousand dollars in that account.

He punched in the number on the back of his ATM card. Customer service at his bank put him on hold. When the service rep came back, she told him that his account had been frozen and he’d have to go to the bank in person. He’d have to prove his identity before they would reinstate it. They would be open at nine the next morning, she said. As if that helped anything. Would he like a list of local branches? He bit back rage. It was no fault of the woman on the other end of the line that he was in this mess. He thanked her and clicked off his phone.

He called the credit card companies, barely controlling his anger. Their promise to investigate didn’t make him feel any better.

He had enough gas to make it back to the city, had an extra gas can he always carried. But damn, it was turning into a hell of a morning.

Seeing Vico drive off with Scotty and Adrian fueled the anger roiling in his gut. At least Zoe wasn’t with them. Coco had told him that Zoe and Parker had decided to stick around and ski some downhill runs with her, Brigitte and Chloe.

As he drove away from the lodge, he remembered that Vico had taken his credit card to the cashier the night before. Scenarios ran through his mind, yet none made sense. Sure, Vico could’ve charged a few items overnight, but usually such activity would flag a fraud alert, and his credit card companies hadn’t called or texted. And there was no way Vico could’ve accessed his bank account or his second credit card. Or was there? Cody knew the basics of protecting his cards and account numbers, but he wasn’t up on all the schemes involving cybercrime.

He wondered about Vico and his motives for miles as the splendors of Yosemite disappeared behind him.

Zoe laid her cheek against the window of Parker’s Range Rover. The cool glass didn’t calm the churning in her belly or soothe the mighty mess she’d made. She was glad that Coco had decided to ride back with Chloe and Brigitte. Zoe wasn’t in the mood for her sister’s bright chatter.

“I can feel the steam coming off your thoughts, Zizi.”

“Shush.”

“Your English is improving,” he said, grinning.

She swatted him.

“I remind you that your life is in my hands. Freeway driving and all that.” He tapped her arm. “Could be worse, sweet cuz. The ranger could have found you. He’s a bit grizzled for your tastes, isn’t he?”

“You’re supposed to be helping.”

“Looks pretty straightforward to me. You go back to Italy, we do the gallery opening, you start up your life again but
on your own terms
. And you give thanks for a hot night in a cold snow cave.”

“Parker.”

“You could visit him, you know. Jets, et cetera? Both San Francisco and Rome still have airports.”

“Seeing him occasionally would tear me up. I knew, I just
knew
I shouldn’t have ever, ever kissed him. We could’ve been friends.”

“You forget who you’re talking to. I know how love can rush in and unravel life.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir bad memories.”

“Not bad,” he said, letting out a deep sigh. “Just painful. If I learned anything from my experience with Rachael, it’s that love doesn’t care about our plans and preferences. It slices open the very places we need to have opened and exposed, like it or not. Pain’s just part of the package.” He covered her hand with his. “You’ve made your decision, now go home and live it. We’ll all be there for the gallery opening. And for you after.” He moved his hand back to the wheel and maneuvered them around a hay truck chugging up the hill. “You’ll find your way, Zoe. I have faith in you. But I can’t tell you that what’s ahead will be in any way easy.”

“Even in the terrible days after Mama died—packing for this move and holding everybody together—I never felt this torn up.”

“Love should come with a warning label—danger, highly explosive materials ahead.”

“I didn’t say I was in love with Cody.”

He turned to her. “Honey, you didn’t have to. A billboard couldn’t proclaim it any clearer. I can see the color of the massive letters now, bright magenta for your name, perhaps, and maybe a nice team color—orange or maybe orange with black stripes—for his. What do you think?”

She groaned.

“Okay, maybe not stripes. Just a very bright orange.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Someday, Parker, I will seek my revenge. When some woman carves up your heart, I will stand back and smile.” But it wasn’t true. She’d be there for him just as he was for her. Too bad his love couldn’t ease her pain.

Her father was working at his computer in the library when Zoe walked in. He tapped a couple of keys and then circled the desk to hug her.

“Adrian told me about your close call,” he said, stroking the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re back safely.”

She stepped away. She’d run her lines in her mind for the last ten miles and was ready to deliver them.

His eyes narrowed. “He said you were okay. You don’t look okay to me.”

“Papa, I can’t do this. Not any longer. I can’t live here.” Her eloquent, practiced phrases escaped her. “It’s not me—not this place, not the wine business, not any of this. I’m going back to Rome the day after New Year’s. I’m opening the gallery, and I’m going to stay in Italy.”

“In time, Zoe. You can go back later, but not right now. I need you here.”

“You don’t need me. Maybe you did at first, yes. I believed you did and I stayed. But I can’t do this. Not anymore.” She was repeating herself.

“Maybe in the spring—you could go back in the spring.”

“I’ve already set up the plans for the opening. Besides, what difference does a few months make?”

If she’d thought he looked stormy at the beginning of her confession, she concluded he was stone-faced now.

“I can’t allow this.”

Anger churned in her, strong and true. “Rafe and Gaetano are home in Rome. Amber and Julia are in Tibet, Dante’s in Australia and
you
take off all over God knows where, so why should you care where
I
go? And you
lied
, Papa. You said you were in London that time I asked. But you were in Russia.”

She hadn’t planned on confronting him with her discovery but if she was going to tell the truth, she was determined to hear some from him too.

“I need you to convince Mr. Husch to sell us his land. After that’s settled, you can go.”

“That’s
not
going to happen, Papa. Never. Alastair has a dream for his place and it does
not
include turning it into a vineyard.” She put her hands to her hips. “
You
go talk to him. You’ll find out. You’ll see what a dream means. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a clue about mine. I took that viniculture class. I tried to like it, but it’s not me. The gap between my onstage performance and the backstage reality is no longer bearable. Can’t you get that?”

She pounded on his desk, surprising herself. “You can’t ask me to be what I’m not, not any longer. It’s too cruel a thing for a father to ask.”

She backed away when he reached for her.

“You’re a wonderful daughter, Zoe and—”

“Papa, I don’t care if I’m a wonderful daughter or a terrible one. I just want you to get that I am going to Rome. I’m going home. In a week and a half.”

“I’ll freeze your funds.”

The words slapped into her. As did his very blank face. Then she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. It didn’t make any sense why he’d be so opposed to her returning to Rome, why he was blocking her.

“I already have my ticket,” she said with cold defiance. “And everything for the construction and opening is already paid for.
And
I’m taking that painting with me,” she added, pointing to her mother’s landscape on the wall. “And besides—it’s my money, from my mother and grandmother. You can’t touch it.”

She turned and ran out of the library, fury fueling the tears stinging her eyes. Parker was right—love could slice painfully into the most tender places. She hadn’t missed that her father hadn’t responded to her question about his lie. Maybe he had a mistress. Wouldn’t that be ironic? She was moving heaven and earth, worried about him being all broken up about her mother, and he was running off to party? That the possibility didn’t fit anything she knew of him didn’t stop her thoughts from raging. And her heart from breaking.

She knew she was grieving over parting ways with Cody, that because of her heartache all her emotions were out of control. But she thought her father would understand. Shouldn’t the one man who’d known her all her life recognize when her soul was being crushed because she was denying all she was and all she hoped to be?

How ironic that the man who was a near stranger understood her, supported her, and even loved her, though she broke his heart, while at the same time her own father couldn’t see that she was shriveling up right in front of him.

Love was painful. And Zoe didn’t know if she could handle much more of its fickle and tormenting ways.

Zoe saddled Pyrois and rode into the hills. Rain pelted her and she didn’t care. The wind whipped in the tall grasses, bending them nearly to the ground. After twenty minutes of soggy riding, she reined up. Along the base of the hill in front of her, the rails of an old train system were barely visible through the wind-whipped grass. But the tracks stood out to her like a screaming banner pointing at her life.

Below the patterns of her daily activities lay the steel rails of expectation, the cold lines of habit and old patterns that weren’t in any way her own. What she suddenly could bear no longer was acting out the destiny prepared for her by her past, by her position in the family and by her father’s misplaced expectations and then continuing to slide obediently along those rails, dying a little more every day as she thought of all the paths she’d rather have taken, the routes she’d yearned to explore.

Her mother had gotten so caught up in family and expectations, in helping with the family business, that she had ignored her deeper passions and hadn’t put energy into developing her career as an artist. She’d never shown her work, something Zoe was going to put to rights now that she could.

When she reached the spot where she’d ridden with Cody—where she’d heard his voice calling out to her before she’d even met him—she stopped. And didn’t want to admit that all she wanted was to be in his arms, listening to his voice speak confidently. For the first time, she regretted the snowball of events she’d set into motion. But she
had
set them in motion, and others were now counting on her, so she would see them through.

An hour later and back in her room, Zoe dragged out her paints and pulled up the photo she’d snapped with her phone. As she dragged her brush across the canvas and outlined the rolling hills, her thoughts wouldn’t settle. She called Parker and asked if he’d have his travel agent move their departure date up a few days. Staying in California was a torture she was sure she couldn’t bear. Seeking out Cody was a pleasure—a need—she knew she’d give in to, given the chance. But getting any closer to him, allowing him to soothe her agitation and worry, would make the pain of leaving far worse than torture.