Just a Taste (22 page)

“It’s not a haunted house.”

“Oh, no? Then why do I feel the presence of a ghost?” In her mind, the subject was closed.

“Promise me we’ll talk about this.” Anthony moved to touch her hand and she jerked out of reach.

“What is there to say?”

“Everything!” he snapped.

The anger in his voice got her attention. “Fine, we’ll talk,” Vivi said in a pinched voice. “Now excuse me while I go call a cab.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Anthony scoffed. “I’ll run you home.”

“There’s no need.”

“Yeah, there is.” He licked his lips nervously. “Cab-drivers around here can be nuts. I want to make sure you get home safe and sound.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Big deal. I’m taking you home.”

“Fine,” Vivi repeated. “But I do not want to talk about all this in the car. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Anthony muttered reluctantly. He took a step toward her, looking wounded when she again stepped back and out of reach. “Vivi, I’m really, really sorry about this.”

Vivi was too distraught to look at him as she started down the stairs. “So am I.”

“H
oly shit! If
this is what happens when you have insomnia, I hope you never sleep again!”

Anthony was silent as he finished unloading the bags of food he’d brought with him to Michael’s. After driving Vivi home—a drive made in stone cold, torturous silence—he was too wound up to sleep. Rather than pace, tear at his hair, or finish the open bottle of wine in a quest for temporary oblivion, he decided to put his restless energy into something more productive: cooking. He drove to Dante’s, and over the remainder of the long dark night, made two pans of lasagna and an olive oil cake, finishing up with a batch of almond cookies just as the sun started to peek over Brooklyn’s rooftops. After dealing with the early morning deliveries and sundry other tasks, he packed up the food and drove over to his brother’s. Theresa was at work, Dominica and Little Ant were at school, and baby Angelica was in her playpen, hypnotized by
Teletubbies
. It was just him, Michael, and a boatload of food in the kitchen.

Michael was still exulting over the tin trays spread out on the table. “This is fantastic. I won’t have to worry about making dinner for the kids for over a week.”

“You can’t give them lasagna every night. They’ll get sick of it.”

“Not my kids. Especially if I pay them to eat it.”

“Great parenting skills.” Anthony pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. His lack of sleep was finally catching up with him; he felt as though he’d been lightly pummeled, his brain muzzy. “You got a beer or anything?”

“Anthony, it’s eight o’clock in the morning.”

“Oh. Right.” He grabbed an almond cookie, still warm, and popped it in his mouth.

Michael pulled up the chair next to him. “What’s going on?”

“I blew it with Vivi.”

“Whoa, hold on. You and Vivi finally…?” Anthony nodded glumly as Michael gave him a thumbs up. “Way to go, stud!”

Anthony made a disgusted face. “Do you always have to reduce everything to locker room clichés?”

“Excuse
me
. Perhaps if my only sibling bothered to tell me what was going on in his life, I wouldn’t blurt out the first thing that comes to my head. And P.S., I haven’t had my second cup of coffee yet, so I beg your friggin’ indulgence.” Michael reached for a cookie. “What happened, Ant?”

“Things were going fine, right? We had this passionate reunion when she got back from France, great sex, yadda yadda yadda. Then she wants to know when I’m going to take off my ring, which was okay, because it was time, you know?”

“Makes sense,” Michael agreed, hand snaking toward the plate of cookies for another.

“So I have her over to my place last night. We’re drinking wine, talking, having a nice time. We start fooling around on the couch, and decide to move the action upstairs. No problem. I scoop her up, we go upstairs. Except when we get there”—Anthony felt his guts knot—“I can’t do it.”

Michael chuckled knowingly. “It happens to all of us from time to time. Get some Viagra.”

“Let me finish,
cidrule
. I couldn’t even open the bedroom door. It was like there was this invisible forcefield preventing me from going in there.” Anthony shook his head in remembered humiliation.

Michael pondered this. “Were you…was it…did you feel like you were being disloyal to Ang or something?”

“No.” Anthony was resolute. “It’s nothing to do with that.” He struggled to find the right words. “It was fear. If I love her, I can lose her. Something could happen to her, and I don’t know, I just couldn’t go there. I was totally paralyzed.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’ve been having these dreams.”

“What dreams?”

“I’m watching the news, and there’s a building on fire. And it turns out to be a plane that’s crashed into Vivi’s apartment building.”

Michael recoiled. “Jesus, Ant. That’s horrible.”

“No shit. I’ve been obsessed with something happening to Vivi. I insisted on driving her home because all I could think was that some crazy cabbie could lose control of the car and she could be killed. I know it sounds nuts.”

Michael’s gaze was reassuring. “Nothing’s going to happen to Vivi, Anthony.”

“How the hell do you know?”

“I don’t know!” Michael threw up his hands in despair. “What was it Ma used to say? ‘I could get killed by a bus crossing the street’? She was right! What are you gonna do, not love Vivi because you’re afraid she might die on you like Angie?”

Anthony put his head in his hands. “I know. I know it’s crazy.”

“It is crazy. Angie worked a dangerous job, Anthony. There was always a chance of her getting killed. Vivi’s job doesn’t carry the same danger. She’s no more at risk than the rest of us.”

“I know,” Anthony repeated. Everything his brother was saying was true. But the fear of loss still haunted him.

“What did Vivi do when you couldn’t take her into the bedroom?” Michael prodded gently.

Feeling miserable, Anthony lifted his head. “What do you think she did? She totally freaked out! She thinks I haven’t gotten over Ang. She called it ‘a haunted house.’”

“Have you told her about your dreams?”

“No,” Anthony muttered.

“Well, then go tell her, you
gavone
. What’s the big deal? You talk about it, you fix it, you roll merrily along.”

“She was pretty upset, Mike. She wouldn’t even talk to me in the car.”

“She was hurt, that’s all. Go talk to her and it’ll all be fine.”

“And what if it’s not? What if she tells me to take a hike? What if I keep having those dreams?”

“If the dreams keep up, then go talk to a shrink. If she tells you to take a hike, then, I don’t know what to say.” Michael shrugged apologetically.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let this happen! I stood right in this kitchen and told you that lightning couldn’t strike twice, that I was perfectly fine with my life as it was. But no! You encouraged me to go for Vivi! And now look where I am! I take a second chance and it blows up in my face!”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault you’re a mental case?” Michael bellowed.

“I don’t need this shit.” Anthony went to stand up but Michael gripped his arm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Anthony glared at him. “How did you mean it?”

“Look,” said Michael, dipping into a half-eaten bowl of Cap’n Crunch, “I know how difficult this stuff can be. Remember what happened to Theresa? The assault?”

“Kind of.”

“Well, it messed her up good. And she wanted a relationship with me, but she was afraid. Every time we’d come close to getting something going, this fear of hers would raise its ugly head and
badaboom
! It was back to a broken heart and blue balls for Mikey D.”

“What finally happened?” asked Anthony, impatient for the punch line.

“I was patient, and she worked it all out, and now here we are—three kids, a messy house, but happy as hell. It’s not rocket science, Ant. Tell her your fears, ask her to be patient, and I guarantee you, things are going to be fine.”

“You really think?” Anthony wanted to believe him, but he couldn’t seem to make the leap of faith.

“I
know
.”

“Okay.” Anthony stood up. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Where you going? The restaurant?”

“Where do you think?”

“Hang on a minute.” Michael jumped up from his chair. “I’ll just get Angel dressed and we’ll come with you.”

“To do what? Mike, I don’t want you hanging around. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Michael scowled, but he didn’t protest.

“How’s that job hunt for Insane Lorraine going, by the way? You find anything for her yet?”

“Very funny.”

Anthony folded his arms across his chest. “I wasn’t kidding. Either you find her another job or she’s out on her crazy ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Michael muttered, loading the lasagna trays into the fridge. His expression was unhappy as he glanced back over his shoulder at Anthony. “You really don’t want me to come with you?”

Anthony just stared at him.

“Suit yourself,” Michael said with a frown. He closed the fridge. “Thanks for the chow.”

“Reheat it for an hour at three fifty.” Anthony hugged his brother. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Spill your guts and ask for patience,” Michael repeated with a hearty pat on the back. “That’s all you’ve got to do.”

V
ivi wasn’t surprised
when her buzzer sounded in the late afternoon and it was Anthony asking if he could come upstairs. She knew he’d come to see her eventually.

Vivi buzzed him up, her eyes doing a quick sweep of her small flat. The place was tidy, but there were no mouthwatering smells coming from her kitchen to smooth what she anticipated would be an awkward conversation, no coffee percolating on the stove. For the past three days, Vivi had found herself unable to cook a thing. She’d spent her time brooding, sometimes crying, and deciding whether or not to confide in Natalie. It turned out to be a moot point; for three days she’d been leaving messages for Natalie to discuss business, but to no avail.

The knock on her door was so quiet she almost missed it. She felt strangely calm. Even so, she found herself fumbling to open the locks. Seeing Anthony’s face, a surge of heat came to her cheeks as the scene of her rejection replayed in her mind. She’d turned the incident over and over so many times, viewing it through the prism of her complicated, sometimes conflicting emotions. Standing here now, she felt as confused as ever.

“Come in,” she said, ushering Anthony inside.

He looked as though he hadn’t been sleeping. Dark circles ringed his big brown eyes, and there was a washed-out look to his face. Still, he exuded an odd confidence that bordered on the resolute.

Vivi gestured toward the couch. “Please, sit.”

“Do you mind if I take off my coat?”

“Of course. How stupid of me.” Embarrassed by her lack of hospitality, she took his jacket. It smelled of impending snow mixed with the scent of his cologne. A lump formed in Vivi’s throat. How could she feel a flash of humiliation just a second before, only to have it followed by this, a welling up of sentimentality? Tamping down her emotions, she hung up his coat, following him over to the couch.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“Wild guess.” Anthony craned his neck, looking behind him toward the kitchen. “Any chance of getting a cup of coffee?”

Vivi looked at him with disbelief. “You’re a real piece of wood, aren’t you? I thought you hated my coffee.”

“I’ll endure it for now. And it’s ‘piece of work,’ not ‘piece of wood.’” His voice was affectionate.

“Fine,” Vivi harrumphed, “I’ll make coffee. I’ll be right back.”

She made her way to the kitchen, relieved when he didn’t follow her. She needed a few seconds alone to try to sort her feelings out. When she returned with their coffee, she found him leafing through her notebook filled with handwritten recipes, as he’d done the first time he was ever here.

“There it is, the famous pineapple flan recipe,” he noted ruefully, closing the book.

Vivi handed him his coffee and sat down on the couch a small distance from him. Anthony noticed.

“Need a buffer zone, huh?”

Vivi pushed a stray, ticklish hair off her face. “I guess. I don’t know.”

“We need to talk.”

“What’s there to say?” Unwelcome tears sprang to Vivi’s eyes. “You’re still in love with your dead wife.”

Anthony’s gaze was unwavering. “You’re wrong. I’m in love with you.”

“I gave myself to you and you humiliated me.”

“Don’t you think I was humiliated?”

Vivi said nothing.

“Please, let me explain.”

Vivi nodded reluctantly.

“I never would have brought you home if I was still pining for Ang. I never would have brought you upstairs to make love to you if I was still pining for Ang. What happened
was
related to her, but not in the way you think.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Vivi replied, her voice cracking. “You couldn’t bear to bring another woman into the sacred bedroom the two of you shared.”

“
No.
I couldn’t bear to take that final step of making you completely mine, because if I did, if we were really, truly together, that would mean”—pain clouded his tired eyes—“I could lose you the same way I lost Angie.”

“So it was better to get my hopes up and then change your mind?”

“You’re not hearing me.” Anthony scratched at the pale band of skin where his wedding ring used to be. “I had no idea that was going to happen. I got to the doorway, and one minute, all I could think about was the two of us laughing, making love in my bed; the next, I’m imagining getting a phone call telling me something has happened to you and that you’re dead. And I just couldn’t go there.”

Vivi remained silent.

There was an embarrassed hunch to his shoulders as he clasped his coffee mug between his hands. “I’ve been having these nightmares about you dying, Vivi. About a plane crashing into this building. Is it rational? No. But feelings never are, are they?”

Vivi peered down into her mug. It all seemed to make sense. Yet there was something inside that kept her from murmuring, “My poor darling, your nightmares, if only I knew…” or even just “Yes, I understand.” What had seemed so easy now seemed complicated.

“Say something,” Anthony urged, a subtext of despair in his voice.

“I don’t know what to say. To you this all makes sense, but in my heart, it still feels very confusing. I was so certain, and now…” She shook her head, words failing her.

He moved closer to her on the couch. “I need your patience and understanding, Vivi. That’s all. We hit a bump, and now we’re talking it out like two rational adults—or rather, one rational adult and one irrational French woman.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Bella,”
Anthony pleaded, “we’re just getting started. Don’t pull the plug before we’ve even begun.”

Vivi twisted away from him. “I need time to think, Anthony.”

She heard him put down his mug of coffee on the table, feeling the shift of weight as he rose from the couch. She turned back to him. “Anthony?”

His gaze was loving. “Take as long as you need, Vivi. You were patient with me, now it’s my turn to be patient with you. Just know I love you.”

Tears returned to her eyes. “Thank you. Please don’t think I’m being deliberately difficult or coy.”

“I would never think that.” He leaned over, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “Enjoy the rest of your day. You know where to find me.”

“V
ivi!”

The sound of a female voice coming from behind startled Vivi until she turned to see Anthony’s sister-in-law, Theresa, hurrying toward her in a beautiful fur coat, a big, friendly smile on her face. Vivi was seized with the fear Theresa might want to discuss Anthony. “Hello, Theresa.” Vivi kissed each of her cheeks. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

“You, too.” Theresa gestured up the street toward Vivi’s. “Things seem to be coming along nicely.”

“Yes.”

“That’s why I’m glad I caught you. I don’t mean to be pushy or anything, but you really need to start thinking about the publicity campaign.”

“Well, what have you and Natalie talked about?” Vivi asked, relieved not to be discussing Anthony. She bundled her silk scarf tighter around her neck. It was much colder out than she had thought.

Theresa looked perplexed. “What?”

“Natalie has been in touch with you, yes?”

“Vivi, I haven’t heard from your sister at all.”

Vivi stared back at her. “Are you certain? She said she called.”

“Our receptionist would have passed the message on to me.”

Vivi felt the sidewalk beneath her feet beginning to splinter. “Is it possible the message was passed on to your partner?”

“No, Janna would have told me. We discuss everything.”

“Merde,”
Vivi hissed under her breath. As soon as Vivi was done with Theresa, she needed to take the subway into New York and pay a visit to her half sister. She didn’t care if she had to yank her out of bed by her hair, or sit in the lobby all day waiting for her, she needed to know what was going on
now
.

Theresa was gazing at her with concern. “Vivi?”

“I’m sorry,” Vivi apologized, trying to corral her thoughts. “It’s just that Natalie told me she’d been in touch with you, and now I’m confused. I must have misunderstood.”

“Don’t look so distressed; we still have time.” Theresa pulled a BlackBerry out of her coat pocket. “You and I could set up a meeting right now, if you’d like.”

Vivi’s mind was like a Tilt-A-Whirl, thoughts spinning within thoughts. “Let me talk to my sister first and try to clear up this confusion, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind.”

Vivi forced herself to ask the question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to. “How much do you charge a month for publicity?”

“Our normal retainer is three thousand dollars a month,” said Theresa, pocketing her BlackBerry, “but since you’re a friend”—Theresa smiled broadly—“I’ll only charge you twenty five hundred.”

Vivi did the math. It was January, Vivi’s opened in May, five months, a little over twelve thousand dollars. That seemed affordable. Then again, what did she know about what was reasonable or not? She was dancing blind.

Theresa pressed her card into Vivi’s hand. “I know I already gave you one of these, but just in case.” She stamped her feet. “
Madonn’
, it’s cold. I should get going.”

“It was nice to see you, Theresa.” Actually, it had just ruined her morning, but that wasn’t Theresa’s fault.

“You, too. Michael and I were talking about having you and Anthony over for dinner soon. I’ll call.”

Vivi forced a smile. “That would be nice.” She relaxed a little; Theresa knew nothing of her and Anthony’s spoiled evening.

Theresa pointed up the street. “I’m actually on my way to Dante’s to drop something off for Anthony before work. Want to come along?”

“I can’t. I’m on my way to see my sister.”
To confront her. Possibly to pummel her and beg her to tell me the damn truth once and for all.

“Give her my regards,” said Theresa with a cheery wave, setting off in the direction of the restaurant. She stopped and turned. “Call soon to set something up.”

“We will,” Vivi promised, hoping the queasy feeling in her stomach didn’t show on her face.

She watched Theresa recede into the distance, wondering if she should have walked with her just to be sociable. Ah, well. The determined set of Theresa’s shoulders coupled with her brisk walk told Vivi this wasn’t a social visit she was paying to Anthony. Besides, Vivi had something to deal with that couldn’t be put off any longer.

“I
’m so sorry
I haven’t called, Vivi. Things happened so fast.”

Seeing Natalie’s exhausted face, Vivi felt a twinge of guilt over her original plan to ambush her at home, demanding to know the truth about contacting FM PR. Vivi had spent the entire subway ride into the city sparring with Natalie in her mind. By the time she actually arrived at Natalie’s apartment, she was afraid Natalie would open the front door and Vivi, unable to control herself, would spring at her like a wild animal. But one look at Natalie’s pale, drawn face—a face Vivi had never, ever seen without makeup—burned off all the anger Vivi had been harboring.

Natalie had been called back to Paris because her mother was ill.

“A small heart attack.” Natalie sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I didn’t know they came in sizes.”

“You look exhausted. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll fix you something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry, but I would love a cup of tea. Hot, with lots of milk and sugar.” She sat, then bounced back up again. “I can’t sit still. I’m coming to the kitchen with you.”

“Suit yourself.”

Vivi prepared the tea, shocked when she opened the refrigerator to fetch some milk, only to find the small carton hidden amongst tins of caviar and bottles of Veuve Clicquot. Anger bubbled up in her again, her fingers curling tightly around the refrigerator handle as she remembered Natalie trying to talk her into inexpensive furniture and decor for the bistro.

She pulled out the milk, tipping it into Natalie’s cup. She longed to yell at her, but how could she? The poor woman’s mother had just had a heart attack. What kind of a bitch would yell at someone in that situation? No; they would make small talk, gossip about this and that, and then, when Natalie seemed a bit more relaxed, Vivi would casually slip in a question about contacting Theresa.

“I’m surprised you’re back,” Vivi said, noticing how spotlessly clean the kitchen was. She wondered how much Natalie was paying her cleaning lady to mop these floors, or polish these marble counters to such a high sheen. Money was just pouring out…

“I wanted to stay longer,” Natalie was saying, “but my mother put up such a fuss that, in the end, I did what she wanted. My aunt came up from Toulouse to look after her. That’ll be a comedy! My aunt will try to tell my mother what to do, and my mother will tell her to go straight to hell.” Natalie sighed, looking at Vivi worriedly. “Are all families this mad?”

“It certainly seems that way.” Vivi sipped from the tall glass of the water she’d poured for herself. “Do the doctors know what caused the heart attack?”

“Bitterness, if you ask me.” She looked uncomfortable. “My mother claims it’s a broken heart.”

“Perhaps so,” Vivi said stiffly. Though if that were the case, her own mother would have died hours after her father.

“She’s just being dramatic,” said Natalie. “As always.”

Vivi didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know Natalie’s mother; perhaps she truly was cold and critical the way Natalie was always making her out to be. Even so, Natalie’s lack of sympathy baffled her; that is, until it dawned on Vivi that, once again, Natalie was doing her “devil may care” act to cover up her feelings.

“You must have been terrified of losing her,” said Vivi.

Natalie tucked her hair behind her ear, staring down at the floor for a long moment. “Yes.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Natalie lifted her head. “Raise Papa from the dead?”

“I would if I could, believe me.” Pain wrapped itself around Vivi’s heart like a pair of murderous hands and squeezed. What she wouldn’t give for one more day, one more hour, in her father’s presence.