Entangled (21 page)

His words were harsh but not surprising. He
couldn’t even bring himself to call the man his father. “I
certainly didn’t welcome him,” I said, shaking my head and trying
to control my temper at the accusation. “I didn’t even know who he
was until he introduced himself. He looks old, worn down. He wanted
work and I told him we weren’t hiring.”

Handel blew out a frustrated breath, leaned
forward and held his head in his hands, as though the world had
suddenly fallen on his shoulders. Sean Parker was still alive and
well and able to hurt his family merely by showing up.

“Did he stop at the house?” I asked,
wondering how the news traveled so quickly. I didn’t think Mother
would dare interfere after our conversation. But there were others
at the winery who had seen him.

Handel shook his head, his words muffled as
he continued to stare at the floor. “I got a call from a friend of
mine at the sheriff’s department. A Sean Parker was picked up for
vagrancy in town and released. I was hoping it was a case of
mistaken identity. A different Sean Parker,” he said, his voice
rough with anger.

He didn’t rebuff me when I leaned over and
rubbed circles over his back, relaxing the tension, trying to
convey my support through the heat of my fingers. There were no
words to make the situation better. Handel’s pain wouldn’t go away
until he dealt with his father face to face, told him what he
thought of him and tried to come to terms with the past. Something
I would never be able to do.

Finally he straightened, his expression grim.
“I suppose I better tell Margaret. She’s never cared much for
surprises.”

“I’m sorry, Handel. I had this silly notion
that I was protecting you.”

He stood up and made as though to leave.
“What was Alex doing here? I was surprised to see her talking to
Charlie out by the car,” he said, ignoring my apology.

I followed him to the door. Now was not the
time to go into Jack’s scholarship program or deal with the muddy
waters of Jack’s life. Handel had enough to deal with. My reply was
vague. “Answering questions. Charlie doesn’t seem to have a clue
about the financial side of things.”

He nodded. “Well, if you need me to mediate,
let me know.”

“Sure.” I pressed my lips firmly
together.

He stood there a moment with his hand on the
doorknob, not saying anything.

I reached out and pulled his coat together,
buttoned it. “Come over for a walk tonight?” I offered, my fingers
lingering along his lapels.

One side of his mouth lifted in a crooked
smile. “We’ll see,” he said as he pulled open the door. “I’ll call
you.”

I dropped my hands and turned back to the
desk. This afternoon was made for discovery, Handel’s father
surfacing after a twenty-year disappearing act, and now my mystery
envelope to open from Uncle Jack. Jack apparently was a man of many
faces: my mother’s ex-lover, my benefactor, and as far as I could
tell, a lousy businessman. I wondered what other faces would emerge
as I learned more.

*****

I called Minneapolis to discuss the immediate
needs of my remaining clients, and any problems Jody might have
dealing with them. She kept me on the phone for an hour talking
about her daughter’s report cards, the gray local weather forecast,
and how much everyone missed me at the office building’s spring
party. After that, I decided to call it a day. My thoughts weren’t
on the business of the winery anyway, but scattered about like
buckshot, flitting from the return of Handel’s father, to the
question of what Jack was planning before his untimely death, to
Alex Becker and her relationship with my uncle.

I cleared my desk, grabbed the envelope out
of the drawer, and hurried out. “I’m going home, Sally.”

She looked up from the file drawer she was
rifling through and nodded. “Sounds good to me. Wish I were the
boss.” She selected a folder and took it to her desk. “Did you get
everything you wanted from Alex?” she asked, pretending to be
absorbed in the papers at hand.

I paused, a puzzled smile on my lips. “I
guess so. What did you think I wanted from her?” I asked, sensing
an underlying question in her words.

Insecurity flitted across Sally’s face, as
though she knew she’d asked a question that could get her into
trouble, replaced with a beet red color that clashed harshly with
her auburn hair. She shrugged. “Oh, nothing.”

I raised my brows and set my hip on the edge
of her desk, not quite ready to leave now that we’d gotten down to
office dynamics. “Tell me. What do you know about Alex Becker that
might interest me?”

Sally’s mouth fell open and then she laughed.
“I can’t believe you asked me that. Alex is a nice girl.” She
lowered her voice and looked toward the open door. “Only — I just
wondered if you knew she and Handel used to be an item.”

“Really?” Now it was my turn to play coy.
“Why do you think that would interest me?” I asked, fiddling with
the etched-glass paperweight on her desk.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” She
grinned. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“That’s good to know. By the way, what was
the relationship between Alex and my uncle?”

She clued in to the change in my tone,
shuffling papers around before answering. “Jack treated Alex like a
daughter. I know he helped pay her way through college. Alex was so
grateful she would have scrubbed toilets for the man if he’d asked.
Charlie moved out of the house when she was ten. A rough divorce,
from what I’ve heard. I don’t think she ever got over it.”

“Charlie is Alex’ father?” I gasped.

My tone must have held a twinge of annoyance
because Sally held up her hands in defensive mode. “Don’t shoot the
messenger. I didn’t think it was my place to tell you. Sorry.”

“Right. Is she married? What’s with the name
Becker?”

Sally ran a hand through her red tresses.
“No, not married. I think she just took her mother’s maiden name
after she was of age.”

“Well, no wonder she acted the way she did. I
don’t think any kid ever gets over their parents divorcing.” I
stood up, a little more enlightened as to Alex Becker’s attitude.
She wanted to follow my uncle’s wishes and yet couldn’t understand
the man’s choice in me, one of the hated family-dissolvers. “She
seems nice enough, but I don’t believe she holds divorce attorneys
in very high esteem.”

Sally’s smile was confident as she crossed
her legs and leaned back in her chair. “Well, I know for a fact
Handel Parker is very attracted to attorneys.”

“Is that right?” I stepped into the hall.
“Likes to look at himself in the mirror a lot, huh?”

I heard her laugh behind me as I pushed open
the outside door and ran smack into Sean Parker. He had obviously
been waiting for a while, standing in the shadow of the building
smoking, four more butts discarded at his feet.

“Excuse me,” I said, an automatic reflex
before I noticed he didn’t move aside.

His tall, grizzled frame filled my path as
the door swung shut behind me. “I need to talk to you, Billie,” he
said. Smoke drifted from his nostrils, like an aging dragon unable
to render a flame. He dropped his cigarette and crushed it beneath
the toe of his boot, his gray eyes never leaving my face.

My first instinct was to run. And then I
mentally shook myself. The man was a transient, had wasted his life
and no doubt destroyed his liver, but he wasn’t a threat to me. A
lack of manners did not indicate a criminal mind, as my mother had
always implied it did. More than anything, he was to be pitied. His
family didn’t want anything to do with him, and their lack of love
was well deserved.

“How do you know my name?” I asked, wondering
if in his alcohol-fogged brain he could remember a little girl from
twenty years ago. Although, he didn’t seem inebriated at the
moment.

He sniffed and wiped his nose on the sleeve
of his shirt, reminding me of Davy. “You’re Jack’s niece, aren’t
you? I heard about you.”

“Jack Fredrickson was my uncle,” I confirmed,
then stepped around him and headed across the gravel parking lot
toward the house.

Worn out and decrepit though he appeared, he
kept up with me, staying by my side until I stopped a few yards
from my front door. I faced him down, hands on my hips, assuming
the look of a tough-as-nails businesswoman. He didn’t appear
intimidated at all. I’d have to work on that.

“What is it that you want, Mr. Parker?”

He slipped his hands in the back pockets of
his jeans and stared at a point somewhere over my left shoulder
when he spoke. “I know I asked you before, but I really need a
job.” I started to interrupt and he shook his head. “I asked all
over the county. Nobody has anything right now. Least not for me. I
understand folks being leery. I’ve never been what you call stable.
But the wine business is what I know.”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any positions
open at the winery.”

“I’ll do anything. Fetch and carry, wash
cars, clean, paint, whatever. You name it.”

His desperation frightened me. A man without
hope was a man without scruples. He might be inclined to do
anything, and that anything could be a hundred times more dangerous
than giving him temporary work.

“Mr. Parker, have you contacted your
family?”

He licked his lips, dry and cracked from the
elements. “I don’t got a family,” he said. “I just got me. And
whether or not I’m worthy to be included in the human race, I still
need to eat.”

“I understand that. I just don’t know what to
tell you.” I reached in my pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill.
“Here. Buy yourself some dinner.”

He glared at me; jaw working as he ground his
teeth angrily. “I don’t need charity, I need work.”

I snatched the bill back. “Fine. Talk to your
son. If it’s okay with Handel, I’ll give you a temporary job,
otherwise you’re out of luck.” Knowing I was probably sinking my
relationship with Handel simply by suggesting I give his father a
job, I felt as if I’d gone far enough out on a limb. Talk about
torpedoing my relationships.

“What does Handel have to do with anything? I
thought you owned this winery now.” He took a step closer, eyes
narrowed, hands loose at his sides. I forced myself not to back
up.

“Mr. Parker, I believe my daughter gave you
her answer,” my mother interrupted from the steps of the house. She
stared him down, a lioness protecting her cub.

Sean Parker squinted up at her, the lines
deepening around his eyes into crevices. “Mrs. Fredrickson. Nice to
see you again,” he said, giving a little nod of recognition. “How’s
your husband?” he asked, his mouth twisting up into the semblance
of a smile, which was even scarier than his frown.

My mother ignored the last. “Wish I could say
the same, but once every twenty years is more than I want to see
you. Now, my daughter suggested you speak with your son. But
whether or not you decide to do that, you will leave this property
right now or I will have the police here in five minutes.” I
noticed belatedly that she held the cordless phone in her left
hand, her weapon of choice.

“Now there’s no need to do that. I was just
leaving.” He looked my way again, bitter and unrepentant, and I
felt the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. Before I had time to
react, he snatched the ten-dollar bill out of my hand, smirked, and
trudged away down the drive.

My mouth dropped open, and I stared after
him, willing him to stub his toe or trip on something, but he kept
walking without mishap. I joined my mother at the front door. She
clasped my hand and pulled me into the house.

“That man has a lot of gumption, coming back
here after everything,” she said. She strode to the front window
and peeked through the sheers, making sure he kept right on going.
“He didn’t threaten you, did he?” She looked back at me.

I shook my head. “No, no threats. But he is a
bit intimidating. I think I know why hobos rarely failed to get
handouts during the depression. People didn’t feel sorry for them
so much as they wanted them to leave and be on their way.”

Mother let the curtain fall back into place.
“Well, he’s gone now. But from the look in his eye, I doubt it will
be the last time we see him.”

The phone rang in my mother’s hand and she
was so startled she nearly dropped it. She put a hand to her chest
and laughed self-consciously, then pushed the receive button after
the second ring. “Hello?” She listened a moment and held the phone
toward me. “It’s for you.”

I sat in my new recliner and dropped the
envelope on the floor at my feet. “This is Billie.”

“Hi, it’s me. Mind if I come over in a bit? I
think I need that walk in the vineyard.” Handel sounded down. I
hoped after he heard about my confrontation with his father he
wouldn’t run straight home again. The boy from my childhood had
been hurt a lot. Because of his father’s disappearance he was never
able to have closure on that part of his life. Now he was in a
position to shut the door on his father, and never look back. Would
he be able to do that or would familial ties bind him to a man
capable of inflicting further damage to his heart and soul?

“It’s not even dark yet,” I said, keeping my
voice soft. “The vineyard in the moonlight is much more conducive
to confidences and …other things.” Mother was across the room
straining to hear every word.

“Don’t worry, I have to run to the store for
Margaret before dinner. And when I get back I think I’ll spend an
hour in the weight room. How about eightish.”

I leaned my head against the soft leather
chair and closed my eyes, relieved by this small reprieve. “Sounds
good. I’ll meet you by the swing.”

I set the phone on the arm of the chair and
looked up, but Mother had left the room. “What? No opinions this
time?” I muttered under my breath. I kicked the footrest down and
went to my room.