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He’d have to make good on his side of this bargain, Santo decided. He’d have to invest some sweat equity of his own.
And watching Davina now with anticipation lighting up her pretty face, he didn’t think that would be such a hardship. She’d breathed new life into this house.
Maybe being around her could bring him back to life, too.
Chapter Three (#u31c29930-f7ee-52a7-a161-b38f4bd0531b)
Two days later, Davina stood in the galley kitchen of the garage apartment Rikki had suggested she rent for the spring. Since she’d be here in Millbrook Lake for months, Davina had readily agreed after seeing the neat little one-bedroom apartment located on the church grounds. It had a massive picture window with a great view of the lake, and she could walk to church and just about anywhere else. She loved walking around the lake every evening. Tonight would be a good time. Lovely, warm and with a gentle breeze.
But her cell rang before she could go put on her sneakers.
Mom.
“Hello,” Davina said, waiting for the usual questions of “How are you? Are you working too hard? Are you seeing anyone?”
She got those and more, but she only told her mom what she wanted her to know. Coming from a big, noisy and nosy family had shaped Davina’s entire personality. She liked being independent and out on her own, even if she did miss her family all the time. But she wasn’t about to tell her mother about Santo Alvanetti.
“When are you gonna settle down?” Nancy asked each time she went home to Bayou Fontaine.
“I’m settled, Ma,” Davina would always reply. “Settled into my work. I love what I do and one day, I’ll finally get our house back the way it should be.”
Ma always laughed and kissed her on the cheek. “Look at you, worrying about this old money trap when you need to be having babies and cooking meals.”
She didn’t want babies and meals. She wanted rooms to paint and trim and she wanted walls to tear down and rebuild. Her daddy had once been in charge of a growing construction company but his bad health and some equally bad decisions during the lean housing market had caused him to almost lose everything. She and Darren had done what they could, but Da was still working part-time and still struggling.
He’d forced Davina to leave the nest, telling her she had a lot of talent that she shouldn’t waste following him around.
But she’d always wondered if maybe her dad had sent her away because she was a woman and he believed she’d never be good at construction.
She’d show all of them. She wanted to help her family so she needed to get her crew settled in nearby apartments and hotels since they’d be here for the long haul.
Santo and his adorable children came to mind.
He had a family. A family in need of a good home. A loving home. But he also had walls that needed rebuilding. Or moving.
“You’ll certainly have a challenge with him,” she mumbled.
Santo Alvanetti had a solid wall around himself.
An invisible wall that he didn’t even see and a wall he obviously couldn’t see through, either. Davina always summed up a home owner while she was measuring and calculating. It didn’t take much to sum up Santo Alvanetti. Widowed, tragic and stressed to the max. Unavailable. Unwilling to risk anything. With anyone.
Her focus was on getting his place in shape to sell so she could get to the really good project. The old rambling house he’d bought on the lake in town. That house had not only good bones. It had a real heart. It would be the one house that could showcase her talents on a regional and maybe even a national level.
Davina would focus on the houses and not their owner because her goal had always been on rebuilding and renovating.
Virginia would focus on the children.
But Davina had to wonder who was focusing on helping Santo Alvanetti to heal from his wife’s betrayal.
* * *
“I can’t seem to focus.”
Santo didn’t like admitting that but he had to talk to someone and the man sitting across from him was the only person he could trust not to spread any more rumors about him.
Rory Sanderson’s blue eyes remained calm and blank. He was a good minister and Santo liked him a lot. But Rikki and her friends had brought him kicking and screaming to visit with the man who preached each Sunday at the Millbrook Lake Church in town. Today for the sake of privacy, Rory had driven the few miles north of town to the offices and warehouse at Alvanetti Imports to counsel Santo. While he looked more like a beach bum or maybe a surfer than a minister, Rory was kind and compassionate and he withheld judgment. He listened a lot more than he advised. Which scored points with Santo. He was so tired of unsolicited, unmanageable advice.
“Why can’t I just snap out this?” he asked Rory now, his gaze moving to the business card on his desk that stated in a bold, black scroll—Davina Connell Construction, Bayou Fontaine, Louisiana. “I have a new nanny and she’s great with the kids and Davina Connell is working day and night to update the house. It’s beginning to look like a different place, a better place. She’s doing things I would have never thought of doing. I should be able to relax a little and concentrate on what’s important. I’ve never had trouble balancing things, even when Althea neglected the entire family. I made it work but now... I don’t have any energy. I need to keep things going for my children and for this business.”
“It takes time,” Rory said. “Grief can take a toll and it shows up in many forms and it comes at the most unexpected times. It can exhaust you completely. You and the children might all experience outbursts, impatience, lack of focus, lack of appetite, lack of sleep.”
“All of the above,” Santo admitted. “I see the outbursts in my children but I know I lose my patience even more now than I did before.”
“So you’ve never been a patient man?” Rory asked with a wry smile.
“Not very good at it, no.” Santo thought back over the last year or so. “It’s been a while since...Althea died. I thought I’d be able to get on with my life by now but I can see how this was building up when she was still alive. My children are still suffering and I don’t know how to help them.”
“You can help them by learning to be patient. But more importantly, you need to be in the moment with them. I know that might sound cliché, but it works,” Rory replied on a gentle note. “Hold them. Talk to them. Sit with them. Read to them. And when they ask about their mother, let them talk and try to answer their questions.”
“How can I explain what happened to my wife?” Santo asked, that old dread burning through his stomach. “I can’t tell them the truth. It’s hard enough for me to accept but to explain that she died because she was trying to steal from our family and she became a murderer—trying to explain that to my children is downright impossible.”
“You don’t need to give them the brutal details,” Rory replied. “Not yet. But Lucia is old enough to hear things at school or even at church and you’ve mentioned she’s already asked some questions. Other children can be cruel. You don’t have to tell her anything but if she comes home upset, let her explain and then work from there. You can tell her that her mommy went through a bad time and made some bad choices and that you’re sad she got into trouble. If your children ask for the truth, you have to keep reminding them that Althea loved them and that it’s not their fault any of this happened.”
Santo leaned over his desk, a hand going to his forehead. “I don’t want that day to come, Rory. My heart can’t take seeing my children hurting any more than they already are. That’s why I decided to move. She came home crying one day because a friend teased her about not having a mom anymore.”
“No one’s heart is safe when it comes to their children,” Rory said. “Parents hurt when their children hurt. But you have to be strong for them.”
“I’m tired,” Santo said. “Too tired.”
“Have you thought about taking some time off?”
He let out a sigh and picked up a pen that had the Alvanetti logo on it. “I can’t.”
Rory didn’t push him. “Well, maybe leave a little early once or twice a week. Surely you have someone here you can trust to run this place in your absence.” Then Rory added an enticing tidbit of a suggestion. “Why don’t you do what you said you’d do and help Davina and her crew with the renovations on the lake house?”
Santo thought about that. Was he afraid to turn over the reins to anyone else? Probably since his trust meter was broken these days. He’d certainly become more controlling since his wife’s betrayal and death. “I did tell her I’d put in some sweat equity,” he said. “But I’d probably get in the way.”
“Davina’s good at showing home owners how to become handymen,” Rory said. “She was gentle with Vanessa and me when we renovated Vanessa’s house. A word of warning, however. Davina believes in authenticity. The house is a Craftsman style and she made sure we both honored that.”
Santo grinned and bobbed his head. “Yes, over the last couple of weeks, I’ve heard all about my mid-century modern and how I should have been true to that style while updating as needed. The woman is a tough taskmaster but she delivers her lectures with such a pretty smile, I hardly know I’m being fussed at.”
“Oh, it’s like that?” Rory asked with his own grin.
Santo held up his hand. “Oh, no. It’s not like that. We’re existing in the same space at times. I see her when I get home each night and early each morning before I leave for work. Sometimes we talk on the phone, too. She’s good at keeping me updated on how she’s spending my money.”
Maybe it was like that, he realized since he’d begun to enjoy those quick visits and her detailed updates. In fact, they had a meeting scheduled tonight at her apartment for a change.
“I’ll think about what you’ve suggested,” he told Rory. “I’m still trying to make amends for getting her confused with the nanny. Won’t make that mistake again.”
Two very different women and both of them trying to help him. He wondered what they’d thought, what they’d talked about once he’d left the house that first day. Still surprised at how attractive Davina Connell had turned out to be, he had to smile.
Rory picked up on that. “Well, you’re looking more rested and it’s good to see you smiling. I know Davina is not what you expected, but that could be a good thing.”
Santo didn’t comment. He wasn’t ready to delve into his mixed feelings regarding his pretty contractor.
After Rory said a prayer with him and left to go back to town, Santo sat and stared out at the river beyond the docks, wondering how he’d ever get over the horror of what had happened in his family.
The tall pines and old twisted oaks swayed in the spring breeze and the brownish-green water, filled with tannins and covered with a brackish sheen, moved in a steady flow to meet up with the bay. Everything moved, except him.
Once they were over the initial shock of Althea and Victor’s betrayal and the scandal had died down, his parents had become even closer and surprisingly, more faithful to God. Rikki and Blain had gotten married just a few months after they’d confronted Althea in a cold, dank warehouse not far from here but they still had bad days, too. His brother, Victor, was sitting in prison, waiting for his sentence to be up so he could get back to gallivanting and spending more of the family funds. But Victor kept telling Santo he’d changed. He wanted to help out now.
Santo couldn’t trust his brother on that yet. Victor would have to prove that he’d truly become a new man.
But Santo was here, unable to move. Paralyzed by a grief that he found both revolting and necessary. He grieved a woman he’d stopped loving long before she’d died and the guilt of that admission floored him and held him captive. His children deserved better and he needed to give everything he had to them. Not every material thing, but everything of himself.
How did he reconcile all the anger and bitterness inside his soul and go on with life even while he tried to raise his children shielded from the awful truth?
Santo sat there in the quiet of his office listening to the hum and flow coming from the warehouse. Shipments moved, employees went about their business and things got done.
He prayed for God to show him a way to make it all work together. A way to show his children that he loved them and would always protect them.
Preacher Rory had suggested he needed to be patient and he also needed to spend more time with his children. Thinking about Davina Connell and their meeting tonight, Santo decided it might time for him to make some changes, too.
Chapter Four (#u31c29930-f7ee-52a7-a161-b38f4bd0531b)
Davina eyed the I-Need-Chocolate-STAT cupcake she’d picked up at Marla’s Marvelous Desserts and thought about how she was going to eat it while watching a movie she’d recorded two nights ago. One of the many nights she’d spent alone since she’d arrived here, which was perfectly fine with her. She loved to sketch ideas and jot down notes during her quiet time. She also loved to eat decadent chocolate desserts for dinner.
But her cell buzzed before she could make it across the space from the tiny den to the rectangular galley-style kitchen, where her prized cupcake set on the counter.
The caller ID lit up. Santo Alvanetti.
“Seriously,” she said, glaring at the name and number. Now he was calling her at night?
Davina hit Accept on her cell and reminded herself she was doing this to increase exposure for her fledgling construction company. And because she loved the old lake house Santo had purchased. Not quite Victorian and not quite Craftsman, the rambling white house with its deep porches and sturdy staircases begged for a new life and a good family. She’d be the one to give it new life and Santo could supply the family, but she planned to showcase this project big-time to increase awareness of the skills she and her employees could provide.
“Hello,” she said into the phone, her eyes on that tempting cupcake with the marshmallow icing.
“Uh, hi. It’s Santo. Did you still want to meet to go over the details of the renovations for the lake house?”
Davina groaned and glanced at the clock. “Uh...yes. I am so sorry. I forgot we agreed to meet tonight.”
How could she have missed that important detail? Maybe because she’d been so busy all day, she’d agreed to this meeting in passing and didn’t type it into her phone’s calendar with a reminder.
She heard him inhale. “You weren’t there when I got home, so we didn’t verify.”
Had he missed her?
Smiling, she said, “No, I left early to meet Rikki at the lake house. We went over the whole house and I think we have a good plan. I just forgot about you coming here. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, but I’d love to hear all about it,” he said. “Mrs. Brownlee is available to stay with the children.” He took a long breath. “And she made this amazing shrimp dish. I could bring some over.”
This sounded almost like dinner, together. A date?
Davina didn’t want to panic, but she felt that fluttering in her heart. It wasn’t a good idea to get involved with a client. But then, she’d never had a client like this one. No wonder she’d pushed their meeting out of her head. She had to, to get him out of her head.
When she didn’t answer, he rushed on. “I did come home early but I wanted to visit with the children and help them with their homework.”
Davina had to admit that was sweet and impressive after the confusion and chaos she’d seen at his house a week ago. She was tired and she needed that cupcake. But she’d also agreed to meet him here so they could have some quiet time to discuss the lake house. And she really wanted to discuss that project in full.
“Do we need to reschedule?” he asked, the hesitation showing her a crack in his moody demeanor. At least he was coming around on being involved in the day-to-day decisions of renovating a house.
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m here and I’m ready.”
She ended the call and stared at her chocolate dinner. “You’re going to have to wait,” she decided, not wanting to gulp down her cupcake right before she met with him.
Grabbing a banana instead, she ate it and then fluffed her hair and put on some lip gloss and mascara.
She wouldn’t change out of her leggings and tunic, however.
Davina had an early day tomorrow so she planned on staying casual and comfortable tonight. In spite of her rapidly beating heart.
* * *
She invited him in and plopped a huge chocolate cupcake on the counter. “I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast,” Davina announced. “I’m starving and I’m going to eat this before I go to bed or someone is going to pay.”
Santo actually chuckled and felt something like a jolt of heat moving through his heart. “And hello to you, too.”
“Sorry.” Her green eyes reminded him of a lush tropical forest. “I’ve had a long day and I’m mortified that I completely forgot this meeting. That’s not how I conduct business.”
Santo should have insisted they cancel but he’d been looking forward to this all day long. But obviously, Davina had a lot more on her mind than spending a couple of hours with him. Which should have been okay, only he had to admit he felt a bit disappointed. But he’d get past that because she wasn’t here to sit around with him. She had a lot of work to do yet.
Since he was here now, he carried on. “I’ve had some of the best shrimp fettuccine I’ve ever eaten for dinner,” he said, handing her a warm plate covered with foil. “Miss Virginia is an amazing cook and she insisted I bring this over to you.”
Davina’s eyes lit up, causing yet another aftershock to charge through him. The woman was like an exotic chameleon, ever-changing. Then she said, “Are you going to feed me?”
He liked the way she asked that with a bit of a dare. “Yes, I am,” he said. “Because I’ve had a long day, too, and...I want to make some changes in my life. That’s one reason I wanted to talk to you alone tonight, without any interruptions from my wonderful children or their equally wonderful nanny.”
She eyed him as if he’d turned into a sea monster. “You mean changes such as being on time and being a little more organized? Or maybe being more available?”
“Ouch.” Did he look like a total loser to her? “Yeah, those things and more.” Watching as she sank onto a bar stool and dug into the shrimp dish with gusto, he said, “I guess I need to work on a lot of things.” Then he glanced around the little beach-themed apartment. “At least Miss Virginia got the children to bed on time. She’s a keeper.”
“I’m sorry,” she said between bites. “I shouldn’t have implied you’re not organized and involved with these projects. It’s obvious you’re doing the best you can. And yes, Mrs. Brownlee is a jewel.”
Santo stayed across from her, the kitchen island separating them. He needed a buffer to remind him he’d hired her to help him, not so he could stand here and stare at her. “No, you have every right to be a little put out with me. First, I mistook you for the nanny and shoved one of my screaming children at you and then I left you and the real nanny standing in the middle of my den. And tonight, I didn’t call until it was almost too late to have a business meeting. We could do this some other time.”
“No, no,” she said, waving her hand. “You’re here now and I shouldn’t judge you. I don’t have children but I grew up in a big, crazy family. My mom, bless her, was always running behind. It drove me nuts but now I’m beginning to appreciate her efforts a whole lot more.” She shrugged. “I have four siblings, so growing up, I watched several train wrecks and a whole lot of drama being played out. All my life, I only wanted some peace and quiet and to be my own person. I became a nomad of sorts, just to be by myself.”
“So you don’t get along with your family?”
