The Night that Changed Everything (16 page)

Whose?

He shook the question off as soon as it occurred to him. It didn’t matter, he told himself. It wasn’t his problem. They weren’t his children.

But the notion stuck with him all afternoon. The plasterers showed up and they discussed how to best deal with the interior walls. He’d intended to have them working in the bedrooms. Now, walking into Edie’s old room, he imagined it not as hers but as the room her daughters might use. And Ronan’s bedroom somehow seemed to be populated by little boys who would be Edie’s sons.

He didn’t hear everything the plasterers said. He wasn’t sure he communicated at all what he wanted them to do. They said, “Sure. Fine,” and they could start on Monday. He said uh-huh or something like that.

He was glad when they left. He left right after they did, heading back to Mona’s earlier than usual.

Edie was on the phone. She looked up surprised when he came in. She waggled her fingers at him and smiled, then kept listening, occasionally murmuring something that sounded comforting.

He was grimy and sweaty, and on the way back to the house he’d been planning for Edie to take a shower with him and wash his back. But now she was obviously deep in a conversation, so he went up the stairs by himself, took a quick shower, put on clean clothes and went back down.

She was still listening. And listening. She was moving around the kitchen as she did so, putting together something for dinner. But her attention was obviously on the person she was talking to.

“I know,” she was saying. “Yes, I remember.”

Nick ambled out to the den to turn on the television and catch up on the baseball scores. It was another half an hour before Edie joined him.

“Grace,” she said by way of explanation.

“From Thailand?”

She nodded. “Her boyfriend dumped her.”

“She had a boyfriend in Thailand.”

“No. Here. He read something in some gossip blog online about her and Matt Holden. He’s an actor,” she explained, in case he didn’t know. He’d heard the name, but that was about it. “About twenty. A heartthrob-to-be. David took exception.”

Why this was Edie’s problem, Nick had no idea. But obviously she’d spent a long time talking to and listening to her sister. And he could tell from her expression and the few remarks she made that it was important, that Grace mattered. All her siblings mattered.

Edie wasn’t just her mother’s and Rhiannon’s business manager. She was the glue that held the family together, the one that everyone turned to when things went awry.

Rhiannon, he realized, had things go awry on a regular basis. A day rarely went by that he didn’t overhear Edie soothing and settling her sister, making arrangements and then rearranging them with what seemed like endless patience and good cheer when Rhiannon couldn’t manage to make things work.

Mona made fewer demands. Her requests were generally in line with the work Edie was hired for. But the younger children—Grace and the twins, Ruud and Dirk—all turned to Edie, not their mother, for support. They might have been half a world away in Thailand, but they called Edie almost every day. She might as well have been their mother. She would make a wonderful mother.

And there he was, facing the Edie of the future again.

“Do you expect to live in the adobe?” he demanded.

She was going back into the kitchen to put the pan of lasagna
she’d been making into the oven. But now she stopped and looked at him surprised. But then she tilted her head and seemed to give it serious thought.

“I hadn’t thought about it recently,” she said. “Until today. But since there’s such a nice new back porch …” She nodded. “Yes, I think so. Not all the time, of course. I would hope to have a place
not
at my mother’s. But it would be a good place to bring the family, don’t you think?”

Fortunately she didn’t wait for a reply, which was just as well, as he didn’t have an answer.

“That way the kids could be near Mona and not be underfoot. Good for everyone concerned,” she added with a smile. “Mona loves kids, but the day to day isn’t really her style.”

But it was Edie’s style. And now that Nick could see it, he couldn’t seem to forget it, especially because, besides Grace’s ongoing soap opera, later in the week Edie spent an evening talking to Dirk who was trying to set up a connection so he could listen to baseball games from Bangkok. Between the two of them, they accomplished the task—fortunately right before Nick carried her off to bed.

“You’re very eager,” she commented as he drew her with him up the stairs.

“I am.” He was kissing her as they went, then tugging her scoop-necked T-shirt over her head.

“Why is that?” she asked, though she seemed to be equally eager, fumbling to undo the button at the waistband of his shorts.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he murmured, bearing her back onto the bed.

He didn’t know why it was true. He only knew it was. The more time he spent with Edie—in bed and out—the more he wanted to be with her. He certainly hadn’t tired of her. If he was going to get his fill of Edie Daley, he was going to need every available minute between now and when the restoration was done.

Getting his fill wasn’t easy to imagine. He kept devising
more and more ways to spend time in her company. They spent lunches together, afternoons at the adobe, dinners every evening and nights in her bed or his. Far more time than he had ever spent with anyone.

But far from sating his desire to be with her, he was annoyed one afternoon at the end of the third week they’d shared, when she packed up the lunch basket and said she’d see him at dinner.

“Dinner?” he frowned. “Where are you going?”

He was surprised how much it mattered. But he’d grown used to having her there. Until Edie he’d never invited anyone to be there while he was working. Not even Amy when he’d been building the house he’d designed for her.

Nick willingly listened to other peoples’ input. He valued their ideas, but he didn’t like interference, and he’d always worked alone. So he was probably more surprised than Edie the first afternoon he’d suggested she stay. And he was equally surprised now to discover that he cared when she wasn’t going to be here today.

“I promised Ruud that I’d get the skateboard wheels he wants and put them in the mail this afternoon.”

Of course it would be on account of one of her siblings. He should have known. Still he raised his brows. “You know skateboards?” He understood now that there was quite a bit more to Edie Daley than he’d first imagined, but—skateboards?

She smiled. “I have explicit instructions.” And she pulled a paper out of the pocket of her shorts and waved it at him.

Nick took the paper and scanned it over. “How will you choose? He’s got four different options.”

“I’m supposed to pick the best.” She sighed. “He’s got them ranked. Or, he said I could ask someone who knew something.” She looked at him hopefully. “What do you know about skateboards?”

Nick grinned. “I rode my share in olden times.”

“Really?” She was delighted. “Come with me, then. I could use an expert.”

He hadn’t ridden a skateboard since he was in his teens. He was a Neanderthal in the skateboard world.

But if it meant spending the day with Edie …

“All right.” Something else he rarely did, take time off during the workweek. When a man worked for himself, he had to be a tough taskmaster.

So he made it a work trip, stopping at the building supply place and picking up some materials as well. But after they’d checked several skate shops and picked his choice of the perfect wheels, then mailed them, Edie suggested they go for a walk along the beach before going back to the house.

“It’s beautiful down here. And it’s too late to go back to the adobe and work. It’s nearly five. We can take a walk, then stop somewhere for an early supper.” She turned to him, eyes shining, and said, “We could go to the Biltmore.”

The Biltmore was an old Santa Barbara landmark right on the beach just a ways down the coast from downtown. Built in the 1920s at the height of Santa Barbara’s determined celebration of its Spanish colonial heritage, the Biltmore embodied what idealists believed neo-Colonial buildings should look like. With its thick adobe style walls, red-tile roof, wrought-iron gates and Moorish archways, the place looked more like a romantic movie set than a hotel.

“Think of it as inspiration,” Edie said, grinning.

For once Nick couldn’t think of a reason to argue. He shrugged and laced his fingers through hers. “Why not?”

Tempting fate—that’s what it was—asking Nick to go to the Biltmore.

But the words were out of her mouth before Edie could stop them. Truth was, she didn’t want to stop them. She wanted to go to the Biltmore with him, have a meal there with him, wanted to share the romantic ambiance, the special setting and—this was the part that tempted fate—add to the family history in the process.

The Biltmore was where she had come with Ben to celebrate their engagement. It was, thirty odd years ago, where her parents had had dinner the night that Joe had asked Mona to marry him. It was where, thirty years before that, Joe’s own mother and father had met when she was working in the kitchen and he was the chauffeur of a wealthy Bostonian who had come west to spend the winter in milder climes.

Memorable days at the Biltmore were something of a family tradition.

Not that Edie told Nick that.

She certainly didn’t intend to ask him to marry her there—and she would be shocked if he asked her. Not tonight. Not yet. But soon.

Yes, she dared to hope it would be soon.

What they’d shared these past weeks had not weakened, had not diminished. It had only grown. The time they spent together, the tales she told him of her childhood and the stories of his youth that Nick shared, showed her how much common ground they had. They had as well a love of history, an appreciation of family, friends and big black dogs, of restoring houses and swimming races, of walks on the beach and picnics between mornings and afternoons working, and nights in each other’s arms.

They’d both loved—and they’d both lost. She didn’t expect to replace Amy in his heart any more than she knew he could ever replace Ben. There was room for both. In her perhaps foolish, but still admirable willingness to risk again and again, Mona had shown her that. Ben had taught her to trust, to dare to love.

She
loved
Nick.

Back in Mont Chamion, she’d told herself she wouldn’t. When he’d first come to Santa Barbara and had promised nothing but the moment, she’d resisted. Or tried to.

But she couldn’t resist forever. Didn’t want to.

She loved him.

And, yes, perhaps it was tempting fate to suggest the Biltmore, to know in her heart what that meant, but she couldn’t help it.

Edie believed. Edie hoped.

They parked the car across the street from the hotel, next to the sidewalk that ran along the beach. Because it was still too early for dinner, they took off their shoes and climbed over the low wall to walk on the beach. It was when she was jumping off the wall that he caught her and, afterward, hung on, that kept her hand in his.

Edie smiled and rubbed her thumb along the side of his hand and tipped her face to let the afternoon sun warm her even as Nick warmed her heart. They walked all the way to the marina and back, holding hands, hips brushing. They talked as they walked, shared stories, laughter. And then there were times they walked in silence. Both were comfortable, both felt right.

And when they got back to the Biltmore, they wiped their feet and put their shoes back on, and Edie combed her hair. She had no doubt that her grandparents would have been scandalized at the lack of dress code at the Biltmore these days. Some things had indeed changed.

But others—like two people staring into each other’s eyes over a candlelight dinner—had not.

The meal was lovely—fresh caught seafood, pasta cooked to order, fresh salad greens. The wine was superb. Nick chose it, raised his glass and clinked it against hers, his gaze smoldering as he said, “To you, Ms. Daley.” His voice was ragged.

Edie raised her own glass, looking deep into his eyes. “To you, Mr. Savas.” In her heart she said,
To us.

They skipped dessert. All the tortes and flans and tarts and cheesecakes looked delicious. The zabaglione, Edie knew from experience, was to die for. But she didn’t even hesitate tonight.

Something better waited for them at home.

They barely spoke as Nick drove them back. He held her hand even as he drove. The only time he let go was when they reached the house and they got out of opposite sides of the car. But Nick caught her hand in his before they climbed the stairs.

They had made love in his bed in her old room in Mona’s
house. They had made love by the pool. Once they had even made love at the adobe on the old madras cotton bedspread Edie had brought to lay out their picnics on.

But mostly they came here—to her bed. And while Edie would have loved Nick anywhere, she liked making love with him here best.

Her carriage house flat was small and not at all lavish. But it was her home and, as much as anywhere on earth, it held pieces of her heart. Here was the photo of her dad with his arms around her and Ronan, taken on Christmas morning, just a month before he died. Here was the photo of Mona with all her children around her—a motley crew, but deeply beloved. Here were the memories she had of Ben—a carving he’d done for her when they’d lived in Fiji, a tiny outrigger he’d made when he’d been researching on one of the small islands and she’d spent three whole weeks without him, a box containing all the postcards she’d sent her mother while she and Ben were abroad. Mona had given them to her just last year.

“Because you can handle remembering now,” her mother had said. “You can look back with love. And you can move on.”

At the time Edie hadn’t been sure. But though Mona’s gift might have been a bit premature, she was right. Edie was ready now. And she was glad Nick was willing to make love to her here.

Roy went shooting out the door the minute they came in. But in a few minutes, he was back looking for dinner. Gerald, the cat, meowed plaintively and wove his way between their feet, indignant that he hadn’t had his evening meal.