The Carson Springs Trilogy: Stranger in Paradise, Taste of Honey, and Wish Come True (4 page)

They wound their way uphill past Avery Lewellyn’s antiques barn. Avery, who dressed up in a red suit every year at Christmastime and kept a herd of white-tailed deer corralled out back. Just around the bend was La Serenisa, a handful of rustic-looking cabins tucked amid a eucalyptus grove where at any given time one Hollywood celebrity or another was usually holed up.

All this wild beauty wasn’t by accident, Sam knew. The draconian zoning laws that drove developers to distraction had ensured that large parcels of rural land remain intact. The worst threat wasn’t from man, but from the elements: earthquakes and floods, frosts that could decimate an entire orange crop, the dreaded brushfires that swept in with the Santa Ana winds in late summer and early fall.

“Ever been married?” she asked.

He tensed visibly. “No.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay.” He cast her an apologetic glance. “It’s just that I get asked that a lot. Usually by people trying to fix me up.”

“It was the furthest thing from my mind, believe me.”

He laughed. “Good, let’s keep it that way.” She didn’t dare ask if he was seeing anyone. He might take it the wrong way. “What about you? You must have been pretty young when you got married.”

“Nineteen. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” She gave in to a little smile. “The truth is we were too young to know any better.”

“You must have been doing something right. You stayed together all those years.”

She felt a sharp tug of loss coupled with a guilty sense of release. “I guess that’s more than most couples can say.”

“How long since your husband passed away?”

“Two years.”

“Alice talks about him a lot.”

“She’s still not over it.”

“It must have been tough on you, too.”

“It was.”

She felt suddenly impatient. What did he know? Death wasn’t just the final curtain going down; it was a hundred little indignities. Hospital rooms billed as private that were anything but. Doctors and nurses bustling in and out at all hours of the day and night. Tests, tests, and more tests to tell you what you already knew.

“My mother died when I was fourteen,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She’d known only that Wes had been a widower for some time. “It must seem strange,” she said, “your father getting married again after all this time.”
To a woman young enough to be your sister,
she refrained from adding.

He shrugged. “I like Alice.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Ian slowed to keep from hitting a squirrel that had scampered into the road. “But it’s not my opinion that counts.”

“You’re still entitled to one, aren’t you?”

He laughed. “Honestly? I think they make a great couple. Better than he and my mom in a lot of ways.”

She didn’t comment. It would have paved the way for a discussion she wasn’t prepared to have. At the same time, she couldn’t help thinking of Martin and what a perverse custom it was to speak only in reverential terms of the dead. To bury your feelings along with your loved one, robbing yourself of the one chance you might have had to sort through all the odds and ends.

A scuffling sound caused Sam to twist around in her seat. She thought she saw a flash of movement amid the jumble of tarps and boxes in back. Probably just something that had been jostled loose. “You don’t happen to have a dog, do you?”

“No. Why?”

“I thought I heard something.”

“The engine knocks.”

She thought of her own car. “You should have it looked at.”

“I will. One of these days.”

He’d sounded like Martin just then. Why worry today when there’s always tomorrow? But Ian was young, with no family to support. He could, and should, do exactly as he pleased.

She lapsed once more into silence. She’d been traveling this road all her life, but never grew tired of it. The walnut orchard where she and her brother and sister used to scavenge for windfall. The creek where generations of Delarosa children had captured minnows and frogs in jars. Just beyond it was a towering loquat tree, the ground below littered with fallen fruit. Sam remembered collecting it in bags and bringing it home to Lupe, who’d made it into jam.

They passed the little roadside reliquary, with its statue of St. Francis draped in cheap plastic rosaries, which marked the turnoff to Isla Verde. Minutes later Ian was pulling to a stop behind the long line of cars overflowing from her driveway.

She turned to him. “Thanks. Not just for the ride. It was nice getting to know you.”

“Same here.” He grinned, a brilliant flash that left her ashamed of the weakness that spread through her.

What was it? The way he’d spoken to her, not as a contemporary of his father’s but as a peer? Or was it simply the day itself, one of happy beginnings and sad reminders? Either way, it left her feeling as if she’d been turned inside out, every nerve ending exposed. She was acutely aware of the layers of chiffon sliding coolly against her thighs as she stepped down from the van.

Together they strolled up the steep drive. As they neared the top, Isla Verde rose into view, the twin silo towers flanking the gated courtyard at its entrance, the steeply pitched terra-cotta roof and high, arched windows beyond. After all these years—a lifetime—its clean beauty still brought a small measure of wonderment. The house her grandfather had built, much of it with his own hands. The house she and her brother and sister had grown up in.

The pergola sheltering the front walk was ablaze with climbing black-eyed Susan, and the coral bells along the path glistened from recent watering. She was glad to see that Guillermo had trimmed the rosemary and cleared the grass under the grapefruit trees.

On the lawn in back groups of people stood chatting, their champagne glasses catching the sunlight in bright, heliographic flashes. A mariachi band played under the striped tent. Even the piñatas had been hung. They swayed from the arches along the columned porch, bright splashes of color against the cream-colored limestone.

Her sister caught up with her as she was heading inside. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Audrey looked more relaxed than usual, maybe from the champagne.

She caught hold of Sam’s hand, pulling her over to the bench under the huge old sycamore they’d climbed as children. Sam sank down reluctantly, hoping to be spared the usual veiled barbs.

“Everyone seems to be having a good time,” she remarked pleasantly.

Her sister smiled. “It’s a lovely party.”

Sam’s gaze wandered to the circle that had formed about the newlyweds, Wes’s and Alice’s friends mostly. Alice, in her gown, appeared to float, cloudlike, against the scarlet cascade of bougainvillea at her back. Wes, an arm draped loosely about her shoulders, had his head thrown back in laughter at something funny one of their friends had said.

With an effort she brought her gaze back to her sister. If Sam favored their mother in looks, Audrey, with her high forehead and pronounced chin, her sallow complexion and crinkly Delarosa hair, took after their father. Unfortunately, she hadn’t inherited his sweet nature. For her sister life’s glass was forever half empty. It was cosmic irony that her married name was Payne.

“Between you and me, Alice would have been just as happy eloping,” Sam confided with a laugh.

Audrey looked appalled. “I’m glad she came to her senses. Think what she’d have missed!” Her sister ought to know; both Audrey and Sam had celebrated their weddings on this lawn.

Sam, adept from years of practice, was quick to sidestep an argument. “I just wish Mami and Poppi were here.”

“They wouldn’t recognize the place. Honestly, Sam, I don’t know how you keep it up. Even the orchard. But,” here came the barb, “I suppose that’s why Mami left it to you instead.”

“It wasn’t exactly a gift,” Sam reminded her.

“Oh yes, I know.” Audrey cut her off with an airy little wave. As if their parent’s decision to move into something smaller might have been coerced somehow. As if the hard-earned money for the down payment had been nothing but a token offering. The truth was, Sam had been as surprised as Audrey, when their mother’s will was read, to find the remainder of the debt forgiven. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I don’t envy you one bit. It’s more than Grant and I could manage.”

“I have help,” she said.

Her sister gave a dry little laugh. “You mean Lupe and Guillermo? God, they must be a hundred years old. They were ancient when
we
were growing up.”

Sam focused on Audrey’s moving lips while trying to block out her voice. Her sister wasn’t completely to blame, she thought. In some ways Mami and Poppi
had
favored Ray and her. Though, let’s face it, Audrey hadn’t been the most lovable child. Sam felt lucky her own two had been such a joy, that she hadn’t had to choose.

She sat listening to her sister rant for a few more minutes, until she could escape without risking offense. When she ran into Gerry on her way into the house, it was a blessed reprieve. Her best friend fell into step with her, slipping an arm through hers.

“Looked like you were getting an earful back there,” she observed dryly. “Your sister still reminding you of everything you got that she was robbed of?” She’d removed her hat, as extravagant as Gerry herself; it swung loosely at her side as she walked. Sunlight glinted on the strands of silver in her black curls.

“And then some.” Sam rolled her eyes.

“Jealousy is like a weed,” Gerry observed. “You have to yank it out by its roots, or it keeps growing back.”

“I’m afraid this weed is sunk too deep.”

“You don’t know until you try.” They stepped through the back door into the coolness of the kitchen, with its copper pots hanging from hooks over the blackened adobe fireplace. A small army bustled about arranging platters under the fierce-eyed direction of Lupe, the world’s smallest general. Ignoring the crab
flautas
and prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, Gerry fished an apricot from the wooden bowl on the counter and bit into it lustily.

Growing up, Sam was considered the prettier of the two. Ironically, it wasn’t until Gerry had been accepted by the convent that she’d suddenly blossomed, and the boys who’d ignored her began looking at her in an entirely different way. More than one, Sam suspected, had harbored the fantasy of rescuing her from a life of celibacy.

Now, thirty years later, Gerry had truly come into her own. Her tomboyish lope had given way to a confident stride, and the green eyes that had once seemed too bold were softened with feathery lines. Even her current vocation suited her. As lay manager for Our Lady of the Wayside, it was her job to see that store shelves, including Delarosa’s, were well stocked with the convent’s honey cleverly marketed under the name Blessed Bee.

Satisfied that everything was running smoothly, Sam strolled with Gerry back outside. It was almost time for lunch. Platters whisked past on their way to the buffet table under the tent. At the dining tables, rolls and butter were being set out, water glasses filled.

For a moment, she allowed herself to see it all through her guests’ eyes. Isla Verde, green island, where the sun shone brightly and flowers bloomed year round. From where she stood she had an unfettered view of wind-swept chaparral and oak-dotted hills rolling like a great tide toward mountains that millions of years ago the ocean had lapped.

Yet heaven, as she’d learned in catechism, didn’t come without a price. Her sister was right about the upkeep. The roof leaked in a dozen places, and repairs to the elderly plumbing and electricity were endless. A variety of fungi and insects regularly afflicted the orchard, and the swimming pool was a constant battle against black algae. Even with Lupe and Guillermo it was overwhelming at times.

Her gaze strayed to Ian, chatting with Laura on the lawn. Her daughter looked happy, almost girlish. Ian appeared to be hanging on every word. Sam felt an unexpected pang, but was quick to brush it away, telling herself firmly,
Why not? They’d make a good match.

Gerry leaned close to whisper, “He’s adorable.”

“Not to mention young enough to be my son,” Sam shot back, knowing where this was leading.

Gerry was undaunted. “All that hair. Reminds me of the boys we used to date in high school. Most of whom are bald now.” Her laugh was that of a woman who’d sampled her share of men. “I understand he’s an artist.”

“A fairly successful one.”

“It sounds as if you two have gotten to know each other pretty well.”

“We rode up together in his car. Mine died.”

“Ah. A knight in shining armor to boot.” Gerry wore a sly expression that was all too familiar.

Sam wheeled to face her. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said in a low, warning voice, “and you can put it right out of your mind. I’m old enough to be his mother.”

“You said that already.”

“Well, it’s a fact.”

“I don’t see why age should matter.” Gerry arched an eyebrow, her gaze straying to the newlyweds. “It didn’t stop Wes from dating Alice.”

“You’re terrible, you know that?” Sam, who could have strangled her friend just then, laughed in spite of herself. “Honestly, one would expect more from a former nun.”

“Are you kidding? We’re the worst.”

Gerry made no secret of the fact that she enjoyed a healthy sex life. The only time Sam could remember her cutting herself off from the world was that terrible year just after leaving the convent. A time when nothing could console her…

Sam’s thoughts were interrupted by a flash of movement inside the tent: a shadowy figure that materialized into a slender, dark-haired girl in torn jeans and a navy sweatshirt. Glancing about furtively, she snatched something from the buffet table and stuffed it in her pocket.

“Hey! You there!” Sam set off in a brisk jog across the lawn.

The girl shot her a startled look, like a doe at the oiled click of a shotgun, then bolted. She might have escaped, too, if at that moment a figure hadn’t hurtled past Sam in pursuit: a tall, jacketless man in a tuxedo shirt rolled up over his elbows, long blond hair flying.

The girl was almost too quick even for Ian. At the bottom of the slope she veered off abruptly in the direction of the orchard, diving headlong into the oleander hedge that bordered it. She’d nearly wriggled free when her windbreaker snagged on a branch. The hedge rustled violently as she fought to free herself. By now a number of guests had hurried over to see what all the commotion was about.