CHAPTER 16
It had been eighteen years since Luke’s last first date. Even that wasn’t really a first date since it was with Natalie and they’d technically had their first date six years earlier. Back then they had eaten pizza and watched a movie on the threadbare couch in his apartment—not gone to a gallery opening followed by dinner at a fancy restaurant.
Felicity had called him the day after she’d handed over her number with an offer—if he would be her plus one to her brother’s art show, then she’d treat him to dinner. Luke, like Felicity, enjoyed their conversations during his office visits, but this was a huge step. Not only their first date but also his first date since becoming a widower. He told her he’d think about it. Then he got the first e-mail.
It was a nice note from a woman with the screen name JerseyPrincess, a thumbprint photo of a smiling woman with dark, curly hair in the corner. She explained Natalie had contacted her several months earlier during what must’ve been her last months of life. JerseyPrincess apologized because she’d recently entered an exclusive relationship, so she wouldn’t be able to fulfill her promise to Natalie to help him transition into online dating. This was getting crazy.
Later that day, another e-mail came through. This time it wasn’t an apology—it was an offer. StaceysMom sent Luke a long message detailing her e-mails with Natalie, a very thorough family history, and several semisuggestive pictures.
That decided it. He’d rather date Felicity than the total strangers Natalie had picked. Returning Felicity’s phone call and accepting the date was more uncomfortable than answering May’s questions on impending puberty after one particularly explicit day in health class.
So far, he couldn’t say he regretted going out with Felicity. What he regretted was the fight he’d had with Annie and the way he made her face crumple with mortification. The art gallery was fine, a little odd maybe. All the pieces in the gallery were made with “found objects,” which seemed to translate to garbage in his linear engineering mind. Every piece of art in the gallery made him think of Annie and how easily their friendship had turned into a heap of trash. He couldn’t stop himself from checking his new phone to see if she’d texted.
No, he told himself, forcing the phone back into his pocket. He focused in on Felicity’s voice explaining the pieces.
He’d always laughed at “art,” but there was this one figure, a sculpture crafted out of discarded bottle caps, some nailed flat, some twisted or cut. They came together to form a sculpture of a man crying. Even though the bust wasn’t behind any kind of velvet rope, Luke resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. In many ways he felt like that metal man, pieced together out of old, once useful objects, cold and sharp and empty on the inside. No way he’d buy the statue, but it did speak to him. It was beauty out of chaos, art out of refuse. Maybe art wasn’t always lame.
It took about an hour to walk, a little slower than Luke would have liked, through all three floors of the small art gallery. Felicity’s silver stilettos clacked on the polished oak flooring, the black tulle of her skirt nearly touched her knees and swished with every step. She wore a sparkling top that tied around the back of her neck where her hair was twisted in a low knot.
Luke tried not to notice the little curls struggling against the elastic band holding them in place. He didn’t want to notice the little mole by the corner of her right eye that bounced up and down whenever she smiled. As they walked he made sure to remain at least two steps behind her, hands behind his back at all times.
“Let me say good-bye to my brother, and then we can go to dinner. I have a seven o’clock reservation around the corner.” Felicity patted Luke’s shoulder, and he had to hide a flinch. It wasn’t her fault he was broken.
“A reservation? Sounds fancy.”
“I owe you, remember? You come with me; I treat you to dinner.” She took each stair gingerly, grasping the railing tightly.
“When you said you’d buy me dinner, I wasn’t expecting more than getting a number two at the drive-through.”
“Wow. Those are some spectacularly low expectations.” Felicity flashed him a smile over her shoulder and jumped down the last step. As she wobbled on her heels, Luke reached out and grabbed her hand to keep her from falling.
“Whoa! Careful.”
They stood toe to toe, her left hand in his right. She threaded her fingers through his, sending a jolt up his arm and into his midsection.
“You keep saving me. I think you just earned dessert.” She tugged on his hand, tilting her head toward the tall, scrawny brunette man with glasses and beard that made him look homeless. “Let’s say bye to Cole.”
She held tight, her fingers pressing gently into the back of his hand. Her palm was tiny against his. Holding her hand felt strange, foreign. He followed Felicity across the gallery’s ancient wood floor. Cole didn’t seem very interested in talking to his older sister, and Luke couldn’t help but feel appreciative.
It was exciting to be pursued by an attractive woman and he liked the way her fingernails played with the back of his hand, but the part of his brain he’d turned off long ago, the one that told him it was okay to hold hands with women who were not his wife, hadn’t gotten the memo that Natalie was dead.
His hand felt cold and empty when Felicity dropped it to put a loosely knit crocheted shrug over her shoulders. But with his hand empty, the uncomfortable weight of guilt lifted off his chest almost instantly. Luke held the glass door to the gallery open for his date and hid his hands in his pockets when the slight chill of early evening greeted him.
“Do you mind walking? The restaurant is only a few blocks away,” Felicity said.
“If you can walk it in heels, I can walk it in loafers.” Luke scanned the storefronts around him; bass thrummed out through the walls of the club beside the gallery, and a crowded hot dog bar was filled to the brim with college kids, laughing and flirting behind the glass window. Everything was vaguely familiar in the twilight of the early evening. The trees lining the streets were taller than the last time he’d dined near campus; a few students milled around the sidewalks, the summer remnants of the once-overwhelming student body. After one more turn, Luke knew where they must be headed.
“Ashley Street? No way.” He gaped at Felicity. “The Earle? You really got us reservations?”
Felicity giggled and pumped a fist. “Yes! I knew you’d be into jazz.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘into,’ but the Earle is a classic. Natalie and I always said we’d go for our twentieth anniversary . . .” The words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
The clicking of Felicity’s heels went silent, and Luke ended up three full steps ahead before he noticed she’d stopped walking. Now he’d done it—brought up his dead wife on a first date.
“Don’t do that,” Felicity said to his back. Her footsteps tapped closer until she was by his side and slipped an arm through his bent elbow. “Please don’t ever feel like you can’t talk about Natalie. She will always be a part of you.”
He pressed his lips together, unsure what to say, but Felicity didn’t try to force him to talk. Instead, being the ever-patient counselor she was, she tugged on his arm and looked both ways before crossing the street toward a maroon awning with white lettering on it. Felicity glanced at a small silver watch wrapped around her forearm.
“We’re a few minutes early, but my brother’s girlfriend is the hostess. I bet she can get us moved up on the list.”
So Felicity was familiar with the “ignore it” method of dealing with personal issues. Her arm might feel heavy wrapped through his, but the weight of it also made him feel safe, like the pressure of a seat belt.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m in no rush,” Luke said, and he almost meant it.
“And then the dad slid an envelope across the table and said, ‘This should cover it.’ I was tempted to point out that I have no power to change any grades, much less whole GPAs, and even if I did, twenty-five bucks wouldn’t even come close to covering it.”
Felicity laughed, and her curls bounced along with her shoulders. Luke chuckled. The food had been delicious, the music even better than rumored, and Felicity’s company was extremely enjoyable.
“So, what would be the going price for changing a D to an A? Assuming, of course, that grade changing was within your purview.”
“I can’t recall off the top of my head, but if you let me ask around, I’m sure I can give you a competitive price.” She took another sip of her wine, nearly emptying her glass. Luke decided to refrain from his own glass, not sure it was wise to rid himself of too many inhibitions when he was a proud owner of so many. Plus, he was driving, and even one glass made him nervous when he was going to have to drive on the highway to get home.
“I doubt I could afford you.” His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, or maybe his facial muscles were out of practice. She put her glass down on the table with a clink and sighed, staring at the half inch of red liquid inside.
“Do you want dessert?” she asked, flicking her greenish-gold eyes up at him.
His heart jumped in his chest, a tightness spreading through his throat and lungs. If only she wasn’t so pretty, this would be much easier. Or if it wasn’t so obvious she liked him or how badly she wanted Luke to like her back. Not ready, a voice said inside his mind, and he knew it was right. He wasn’t ready for a relationship. He was still irrevocably in love with Natalie, even if he wasn’t sure she had truly loved him back.
“No, but thanks for the offer.” He shook his head and put the maroon napkin from his lap on the table. “I’d better get home and let Jessie go before it gets too late.” He glanced at his watch. Only 8:30 p.m.
Felicity’s face fell, and for a moment Luke wondered if he should reconsider. But then the phone in his pocket rang. Too new for a personalized ringtone, it was the factory-setting ring on full volume, accompanied by a violent buzzing. A few of the couples at neighboring tables sent glares over to Luke, especially one bald guy with light hair and dark-framed glasses who looked like a professor type. Dr. Neal? The phone rang again, and the professor shook his head. What a ridiculous and borderline paranoid thought. Could he not go one night without thinking about that man?
“I’m sorry; I should probably get this. Only Jessie has this number . . .” Jessie and one other person—Annie. Ugh, Annie. The guilt was back.
“Go ahead; grab it! I’ll pay the check and meet you in the lobby.”
The phone rang and buzzed again, and Luke pulled it out of his pocket.
“You really don’t have to treat me, you know.”
“I know, but I want to. Now, answer that phone before the guy at table four knifes us.”
Luke raised his eyebrows and tilted his head at the professor guy. Felicity rewarded him with another laugh, and Luke touched the green talk button before pressing the phone to his ear.
“Hello?” Luke answered, pressing his way through the cluster of tables toward the lobby.
“Hello, can I speak with Luke Richardson, please?” a masculine voice replied on the other end of the line, making Luke glance at the phone’s screen to check the number. He’d been so sure it was Annie or Jessie he hadn’t checked before answering.
“Uh, yes, this is Luke. Can I ask who’s calling?” Luke’s mind raced through possibilities but landed on solicitor.
“This is Dennis Bormet. I work for Tanglewood Securities in Washington, DC. We are a private security provider. You’ve been listed as a reference for a candidate for head of private security. His name is Officer Brian Gurrella. I came by your house this evening, but the young woman there said you were out and gave me your cell number. Do you have a moment to answer a few questions?”
Luke cringed. Why did he have to call now? He still hadn’t decided what he was going to say to whoever called about Brian. Time had run out.
“This is pretty bad timing. I’m out to dinner right now. Is there a way we could discuss this at another time?”
“Yes, sir, I understand; your time is valuable to us. This will only take a few minutes. I can come by tomorrow to meet with you if that’s a better time?”
Tomorrow. No, Terry would be there tomorrow. He didn’t want her nose in this business.
“Well, if it will only take a few minutes, I can do it now,” Luke answered, resigned. He’d much rather answer questions about Brian over the phone. Less likely this Dennis guy would pick up on the disdain Luke tried to keep hidden if he couldn’t see his body language.
“All right. First, this background check is for security clearance within Tanglewood Securities. If approved, Officer Gurrella will be privy to classified information. We are interested in anything that could be used against him in the case of ransom or blackmail. So, some of these questions will seem odd or personal, but Officer Gurrella is aware of the intensity of this investigation. He wants you to be honest. If it’s all right, I’ll jump right in.” Papers rustled in the background, and Luke thought he could hear the faint clacking of keys on a keyboard. “How long have you known Brian Gurrella?”
Luke counted back to the first time Brian and Annie came over for dinner. Will had been five, Natalie pregnant with May. Brian and Annie’s son, Matt, was nine or ten. He’d spent the whole night curled up next to his mother, picking at his food, saying less than three words. It took another three or four visits for the boy to warm up, but Natalie was always good with pulling kids out of their shells.
“Around ten years, I think. They’ve lived in Farmington Hills for longer, but that’s when I met Brian.” There was silence and clicking on the other end. The silence made him uncomfortable, like he was supposed to say something else. Maybe that was the intention.
“How well would you say you know the Gurrellas? What is your relationship with them?”
“I know them fairly well, Annie better than Brian though. Annie was my wife’s best friend and now is a caregiver in my home. Brian I see less, but I guess you could say we are friends.” The answer sounded a little like a question when it came out, but at least it was honest.
“Does he gamble or have any debts you are aware of?”
“Uh, besides the normal things like a car and his house, no, I’m not aware of any debts.” This was very different than Luke had expected. He’d thought there would be two or three general questions; maybe he’d have to make a statement about Brian as a friend or vouch for him. This was far more intensive.
“Have you or your wife spent any time in the Gurrella home? Would you say there is any evidence of drug or alcohol abuse? Any relationship problems that could be used against Officer Gurrella in any way to gain leverage?”
Luke swallowed and turned toward the wall. “My wife passed away a few months ago.” He took a breath and let the words settle in before continuing. “She spent a lot of time at Annie’s in the past. I’ve only been there recently. She used to care for my son in her home so I was there nearly every workday. Brian was usually there too. He works the night shift, so he’d sleep during the day.” Luke was aware he was babbling, but was too nervous to slow down. The investigator sat silent on the other end again, and Luke’s mind raced for more information. “Uh, in the past few weeks she’s been watching the kids at my house so Brian can get more sleep.” He lied for the first time in the interview.
“And the other part, about the drug and alcohol abuse and Mr. and Mrs. Gurrella’s relationship?”
This was the moment he’d been dreading. Should he tell the truth, explain that it was possible Brian abused both his wife and alcohol? Or should he do what Annie had asked, tell Dennis everything was sunny at the Gurrellas’ house and Brian was Ward freaking Cleaver?
“Brian drinks socially, but I’m unaware of any problem. As for Brian and Annie . . .” Luke picked at the seam in the wallpaper in the corner where he stood, trying to walk the line between a lie and the difficult reality. “They seem like a normal couple.”
Behind him, Felicity cleared her throat. He spun around, the phone still pressed against his ear. With her purse slung over her shoulder and doggie bag in her hand, she looked ready to leave. Dennis was droning on with his next question. This one inquiring if he’d ever witnessed any suspicious activity or visitors at the Gurrellas’ house. Luke held up a finger to Felicity, asking for one minute. If the conversation went on any longer, he felt like he was going to throw up.
“Mr. Bormet, I haven’t seen anything suspicious about Brian or his family. I wish I had more information for you, but I don’t. I’m sorry; like I said, I’m out to dinner right now, and I really need to go. Do you have any more questions?”
Dennis Bormet went silent on the other end of the phone. Luke didn’t know if it was a good sign or not. He shrugged at Felicity.
“Take your time,” she mouthed. But he didn’t want to take his time. He wanted to be done.
“I understand. Your time is valuable to us.” Dennis Bormet repeated the same line he’d used at the beginning of the interview, which made Luke wonder if he was following some sort of script. “I have one last question.”
“Almost done,” Luke whispered to Felicity and rolled his eyes. She smiled at him, that stunning, broad smile, and pointed through the glass door at the dark street, lit only by tall, black streetlights crowned with glowing golden lamps. “I’ll wait outside.”
He nodded at her and answered the investigator, “I can take one more question.” Luke watched Felicity push open the tinted glass door and pull her shawl a little tighter over her shoulders, even though there was no way it could be cooler than seventy out there.
“Mr. Richardson, as a personal reference, would you recommend Officer Brian Gurrella for high-level security clearance with access to sensitive information?”
The question caught him off guard, and he flinched away from the front window, suddenly finding it impossible to think about frivolous things like dating or jazz or wine. It was a question that brought Annie’s face into focus as clearly as if it was reflected in the glass he’d been staring through. Now that he thought about it, she’d been there all night in the back of his mind, his most recent memory of her tainted with a look of betrayal. Luke was friendly with Brian but didn’t know him, not really. Second only to the letters, Annie was the reason he was still able to stand and breathe and get out of bed in the morning. He’d do almost anything to help her, including lying to Dennis Bormet.
“Yes,” he answered into the phone firmly, “I would.”