Gaining Visibility (30 page)

C
HAPTER
28

“L
et me check my e-mail first.” Vitale caught Adrianna before she sat down. “And then you can have the computer again.”

He was eager to get to the studio . . . eager to check out the model he'd completed during the wee hours of the morning. He'd been pleased with his work at two a.m., but whether he would still be pleased at ten remained to be seen. Sometimes, a few hours made a huge difference in the visual acuity of his critical eye.

Adrianna nodded and wandered off. He was vaguely aware of the sound of the bathroom door closing.

He typed in the address of his personal account, scanning the few headings until his eyes locked onto the one he was looking for.

His finger rested on the mouse button for a moment, his gut tightening instinctively. This would be the sad one, probably filled with details of Hettie's funeral. In her last post, Julietta hadn't mentioned the special gift he'd sent, and he regretted his timing had been off.

Hopefully she would find comfort in it whenever it arrived and wouldn't take it as a sign that he thought she was weak.

He continued to stall, gathering the strength to deal with his Julietta's unhappiness. Perhaps, after this message, the healing would start, and it wouldn't be too long until she was herself again. Smiling and happy, ready to take on the world . . . and him.

He pressed the mouse button, opening the message.

She had received it after all. That she was thanking him was a good sign, was it not? So why would his jaw muscles not relax?

He read on.

Uncomfortable? His caring . . . his love made her uncomfortable? His whole body followed the way of his jaws, tightening into hard knots.

He read the rest and then started at the beginning again, reading each sentence slowly, feeling the weight of each additional word in his heart, which, by the end of the message, dangled somewhere between his feet. He could tell that because he stepped all over it as he surged out of the chair.

No, it wasn't he who'd stepped all over it.

Julietta had walked all over it and all over him in the process.

She wanted to just be friends after all they'd meant to each other?

The anger roared from him and he slammed his fist into the opposite palm.

“Vitale?”

He swung around to find Adrianna's eyes wide with concern. “What's wrong?”

Anger stifled his breath, blocked his voice. “Julietta” was the only thing that escaped his snarled lips, and it came out on a growl.

“What about Julietta? Is she okay?”

“I do not want to be only her friend.” He jabbed a finger toward the computer. “Stop the messages from her. Fix it so there can be no more messages from her. Ever.”

“Vitale.” Adrianna's tone begged him to be reasonable as her eyes softened with understanding and—
Damn it!
—pity.

He couldn't stand that look. For too many years he'd seen that look in everyone's eyes. Enough years to fill a lifetime. And he wouldn't stand for it anymore.

“No more messages from her, Adrianna.” He ground the words out through a still tightly clamped jaw. “Ever.”

He stormed out of the house, heading for his cycle. A ride was what he needed. Wind in his face and his hair, clearing his head of the fairy dust Julietta Berkwith had used to desensitize him from the real world.

Yes, a ride would be good. But he needed to do something else first.

He turned with a purposeful stride that took him into the studio. Once there, he went straight for the model he'd worked so diligently on. He snatched it up, prepared to fling it against the wall. The plasticine was pliable and wouldn't break, but it would smash and flatten. Then he would place it on the shelf as a reminder of how his heart felt at that moment.

He raised it over his head just as a warm breeze came through the window, catching him in the face, startling him.

He lowered the model and looked at it. Really looked at it. This was
his
creation. Something he had worked hard on. A goal he saw with his heart.

For too long, he'd allowed others to destroy what he believed in. In the process, he'd almost allowed them to destroy him.

He was a different man now.

This piece was beautiful, and on a greater scale, it was perfect for Mario's pool. Why should he allow someone else to destroy that vision?

He took a deep breath. Because it wasn't someone else who was about to destroy the vision. He was the one holding it in his hands.

He placed it back on the table, looking at it with his artist's eye rather his emotion.

Without a second thought he started to clear his large work table.

He had hours . . . days . . . perhaps even months of hard work before him.

But first, he changed the damn CD from Julietta's happy music to Wagner's
Tristan und Isolde.

* * *

A strange feeling of déjà vu passed over Julia, causing an involuntary shudder to run up her spine.

She and Frank were seated in Grayson Chapman's office—in the same chairs, the same position even—signing their names to the legal documents placed in front of them. It was like a rerun of the day they signed their divorce papers.

“One more.” Grayson placed the agreement he'd drawn up in front of them—the one that passed ownership of Julia's half of Hettie's house to Frank.

One more.
The words chased away the anxious tingle, replaced it with calm resolve.

The two weeks since Hettie's death had passed quickly. Much too soon, Melissa had gone back to her life in Alaska, still fretting about her relationship with Michael, but showing a strength and a resilience Julia knew would lead her to the correct decision.

A couple of days before she left, Julia showed her the bracelet and told her the truth about her feelings for Vitale. Once she'd gotten past her mortification that Julia had broken things off by e-mail, she'd shown a true woman-to-woman sympathy.

“I want you to fall in love again, Mom,” she'd said. “I may not've come across that way the other night, but that was my selfishness talking. I really do want you to find someone. And it needs to be somebody really different from Dad. You're . . .” She'd paused, and given a grin that looked so much like Hettie's, Julia's breath had stopped. “Different now.”

The sincerity in her daughter's eyes opened a lock on Julia's heart. She'd never realized she was waiting for Melissa's permission to move on.

Bryan, the young man from the college, was working out well, allowing both Julia and Camille more time to spend directly with customers. That pleasant side effect had given Julia time to start on the remodeling plans for Hettie's house, which would officially be Frank's house as soon as she finished signing her name.

She hurried to date the form, set the pen down, and leaned back in the chair with a smile. As of this afternoon, Frank had his own place and wouldn't be under her roof anymore.

Ever.

Grayson handed the papers to his secretary with instructions to copy them for Julia and Franklin. “We'll keep the originals here in our files,” he explained. “But we'll give you copies to put in your lockboxes or safes.” He picked up the tennis ball that sat on his desk and squeezed it absently. “While we're waiting, do you have any more questions I can answer?”

Julia didn't have any. Everything had come together seamlessly, thanks to Hettie's will. The sizable amount they each inherited had allowed Frank to buy out Julia's half of the house and would allow him to redo it to his taste and still have some leftover.

She shook her head in answer to Grayson's question, so he turned to Frank.

“I'm satisfied,” Frank answered. “You, Jules?”

“I'm good with everything,” she said, though the word
good
hardly seemed adequate. She would now have enough cushion in her savings accounts to live comfortably, provided she didn't make any major investment blunders.

Grayson chuckled. “I wish all my clients were as easy as you two.”

“You earned your pay with us the last time around.” She regretted the flippant comment when Frank's mouth drew down at the corners. She'd wanted to get through this with as little discomfort as possible.

She turned the conversation to the twins, who were due any day now, and Grayson dove in. It was fun to see a man absolutely giddy about parenthood. Frank had been that way, too, and she couldn't keep from sharing a knowing smile with her ex as they listened to the attorney going on and on.

Grayson talked until his secretary returned with the copies placed in light blue, legal-looking leather folders—one for each of them. He flipped through them quickly, then folded them over and closed them with a tab that snapped. He handed the documents over. “And that's that.”

Julia stood and took hers, ready to leave, pausing to shake the attorney's hand. “Thanks so much. I hope I don't need to see you for a long time. Except socially, of course.”

“Well, you know where I am if you need me.” He shook hands with Frank, and they made a hasty exit.

“Want to grab a bite?” Frank pointed toward Market Square as they walked to the car. “It's almost lunch.”

Although Julia was hungry, she was more anxious to get Frank on his way to his new home and get back the life she'd made for herself. “I'm not very hungry,” she lied.

They made small talk on the way back to the house. Once there, Julia went straight to her room to change clothes and then went to the kitchen for a bottle of water.

She'd just gotten one from the fridge when she heard Frank shuffle down the steps with his luggage and drop it by the door. He came into the kitchen empty-handed.

“I guess that's it.” The tightness around his eyes told her he wasn't as pleased about his leaving as she was. He walked over to where she stood, stopping only a foot from her. “But it doesn't have to be.”

She sat her water on the island. “Yeah, it does.”

He moved so quickly, she didn't have time to react. His arms came around her and his lips pressed against hers in a kiss that belied both passion and desperation. Her bent arms were caught between them, giving her little leverage to push, but push she did. He clutched her tighter, leaning her back. The edge of the granite countertop dug annoyingly into the small of her back.

She tore her mouth from his. “Frank! Stop it!” With all the strength she could muster in the awkward position, she pushed against him until he finally stepped back away from her. She gasped and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. “What in the hell was that about? Get out.” She pointed toward the door.

“No.” He planted his feet and clasped his arms across his chest in a defiant stance. “Not until you hear what I have to say. I've been happier here with you the past month than I've been the past ten years of my life. I love you, Jules. You know I do. I love you, and I don't want to leave. I want to be with you.”

Julia closed her eyes and raised her hand to stop him, blocking off the reality for a split second in order to regain her composure. “Don't do this,” she whispered.

He grabbed the hand she held up, not hurting it, but holding too tightly for her to pull loose. “I have to do this. I refuse to walk out of here without knowing I tried everything. Maybe I won't have to walk out of here at all.”

Julia's eyes flew open. “You didn't have trouble walking out the last time.” The words spewed out as blood pumped harder through her veins.

“I know.” Frank nodded and gave a long blink. “I was horrible. . . such a coward. I couldn't stand to watch what you were going through. It scared the hell out of me. And I didn't want you to know how scared I was.” He dropped her hand, making a sweeping motion with his arm. “I tried to run away from it all. Sickness. Aging. The inevitable.” His finger traced down her arm lightly, and she brushed it away. “Ludicrous as that sounds, it's true,” he continued. “But the past two years have been like a spiritual awakening for me. I've learned to be happy with where I am in life . . . learned what's truly important. Most of all, I've learned what a treasure I had in you, and how stupid I was to ever let you go.” He stepped toward her again.

She jammed a finger into his chest and gritted her teeth. “Get out of my space.”

He gave her a smirk but backed a step away just the same. “Look. I don't care that you fell in love in Italy—”

Julia gasped. “Melissa told you?”

“She didn't have to tell me. It was written all over you when I saw you at the hospital.” His mouth drooped into a frown. “Your face, the new hair, the new attitude . . .”

“It's none of your business,” she snapped, hating she was letting him get under her skin. She thought she was beyond the anger,
wanted
to be beyond the anger.

“I'm just saying, I don't care. It's obviously over. I can tell that, too.” He reached to touch her again, but the warning look she shot him sent his hand to rub the back of his neck instead. “I know you, Jules . . . better than anybody. You're the most loyal person I've ever known. When you love, you give it all you've got. So you didn't really love him or you'd still be trying.”

“You're deluding yourself, Frank. You may have known me at the beginning, but you didn't keep up with the refresher courses.” She kept her expression impassive, trying not to let him know he'd found the chink in her armor. “If you want to talk about us, then I'm ready. But I refuse to be goaded into talking with you about anything personal.”