Love at First Flight (12 page)

“I'm not going to do this.” Furious with
herself, she stood up. “That's enough.”

***

Michael got home just after seven and
was greeted by music pulsing through the house and an aroma that made his mouth
water. He followed the noise and the smell to the kitchen where Juliana danced
about as she tended to a pot on the stove. She moved with the abandon of
someone who didn't know she was being watched. Her dark hair, in a high
ponytail, swayed in time with the music. Watching her, something stirred deep
inside him, the same curious thing he felt when he'd looked over to find her
sitting next to him in the airport.

“Hey,” he finally said from his post
against the door-frame. She didn't hear him so he said it louder. She startled.
“
Oh!
Michael! You scared me!”

“Sorry.”

Her face flushed with embarrassment as
she turned down the radio. “How long have you been there?”

He smiled and pulled off his tie. “Long
enough. What are you making? It smells fabulous.”

“Chicken parmesan. Are you hungry?”

“I'm starving. This is a nice treat. I
haven't had a home-cooked meal since the last time I was in Rhode Island.”

She took a taste of the sauce. “It's
ready.”

They sat down to eat, and Michael moaned
when he took the first bite of tender chicken. “
Oh my God.
This is unbelievable. Where'd you learn to cook like
this?”

“I grew up with an Italian grandmother.
She taught me.”

“She taught you well. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

When they were finished eating, he said,
“Let's clean up and go get your car.”

“I'll clean up.”

“No way. My mother might find out I
didn't help, and that wouldn't be good for me.”

Juliana laughed. “I'll never tell. Go
get changed. You can help next time.”

On the way to the airport, they stopped
at Wal-Mart where she bought a new car battery. Michael installed it for her,
and when she started the car, he dropped the hood.

“Good to go,” he said after he put the
old battery in her trunk. “I'll see you at home.”

The easy familiarity of the statement
hung in the air between them. Juliana finally looked away from him. “Thanks for
the help.”

“No problem.”

***

She parked behind him across the street
from the house.

“Come here for a minute.” He gestured
her over to a car parked further up the street, tapped on the car window, and
when it was rolled down he extended his hand to the man inside the car. “Michael
Maguire.”

“John Tanner.”

They shook hands.

“This is my roommate, Juliana Gregorio.
Juliana, John's a police officer. He and some of his colleagues will be keeping
an eye on us until the trial is over.”

Juliana shook his hand. “Nice to meet
you.”

“Let me know if you need anything, Mr.
Maguire.”

“Thanks. Have a good night.”

As they crossed the street, Juliana
asked, “Is that because of what happened today?”

“That and a few other things. They
wanted me to have protection anyway, but I refused it.”

“You asked for it because of me.” She
followed him inside. “Maybe I should go home. You don't need to be worrying
about me right now.”

“I don't want you to go home. I just
want you to be careful.”

“I almost left this morning anyway.”

He stopped and turned to her. “Why?”

She shrugged. “The whole thing seemed so
bizarre in the bright light of day. I mean, I met you on an airplane on Friday,
and now I'm living with you?”

“It's temporary, right?”

She nodded.

“Did you go to your place today?”

“Yeah.”

“How was that?”

“I was glad I had somewhere else to
live,” she confessed.

“See? There you go. Don't make it into
something it's not. We're friends, right?”

“Right.”

“And friends help each other out. Like
that dinner you made.” He rubbed his stomach. “I'll be thinking about that for
days.”

She smiled. “You're easy.”

“Yes, I am,” he said, feigning insult. “Do
you have a problem with that?”

She held up her hands and laughed as she
sat on the sofa. “No, no problem. I was thinking about Rachelle. I promised her
I'd go back to see her again this week. I could do it after work on Wednesday
if that's good for you.”

“Sure. I should be able to do that.” He
started up the stairs. “I need to finish some work.”

“Thanks again for helping with my car.”

“You're welcome.” He hesitated on the
stairs as if there was something else he wanted to say.

“What's wrong?”

“Paige called me at work today.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“Not really. Of course her father also
called my boss. Fortunately, Tom's a good guy, and he didn't really say too
much about it other than to ask if my mind was on the trial. It just pisses me
off that her father thinks he can call my boss about my personal life.”

Juliana shook her head. “That sucks. I'm
sorry.”

“The timing couldn't be worse. It's the
last thing I need to be dealing with right now.” He rubbed his face wearily. “I
have a bad feeling that things with her could get ugly before all is said and
done.”

“It got ugly when she hit you.”

Michael stared at her. “Yes, you're
right. It did.”

He looked so tired and sad that Juliana
had to resist the sudden urge to hug him. She swallowed hard. “Try to get some
sleep tonight. You need it.”

He nodded. “Good night.”

“Night.”

***

Early the next morning Juliana took the
extra chicken parm to her mother's house in Highlandtown. She had made that
drive almost every day for four years and could just about do it in her sleep.
Outside her mother's dingy rowhouse, Juliana took a moment to work up the
fortitude it took to walk into the house where she'd grown up. She didn't have
many happy memories of the years when there'd never been enough of anything—
money, love, affection... At twelve, she began babysitting the neighborhood
kids so she could pay for her own clothes, and she'd been working ever since.

Realizing time was getting away from
her, she got out of the car and went inside.

“Ma?”

Juliana put the food in the refrigerator
and went in search of her mother. She found her still sleeping and nudged her
awake.

“What do you want?” Paullina asked with
a nasty sweep of her hand.

“I just stopped by to bring you some
dinner for later,” Juliana said, attempting to straighten up the messy bedroom.
Clothes and newspapers were strewn about, an ashtray overflowed, and the
remnants of an all-night happy hour were on the bedside table.
I'm so glad half my monthly income goes to
pay for this dump.
“Have you been smoking in bed again, Ma? What've we told
you about that? You're going to burn the house down.”

Paullina sat up and defiantly lit a
cigarette. “What the hell time is it anyway?”

“Eight.”

She groaned and rubbed her head. “That's
too goddamned early.”

“I have to work at nine, and it would be
too late for dinner by the time I got here after. It was now or never.” Juliana
almost gagged as she picked up the ashtray and dirty glass off the table and
took them into the kitchen. Somehow a woman who couldn't get around to feeding
herself managed to have no trouble keeping up a steady supply of booze and
cigarettes. Despite numerous attempts, her children had been unable to identify
her supplier.

“How was your
romantic
weekend,” Paullina asked with a sneer as she took a long
drag on her cigarette.

Juliana returned the empty ashtray to
the bedside table. “It was great,” she said with a forced smile.

“I don't know why you stay with that
loser. He's never going to marry you.”

“Then it's a good thing I don't care
about being married,” Juliana snapped and then was mad at herself for taking
the bait. So many years of bitterness and booze had made her once beautiful
mother into an ugly person. Juliana waged a daily battle to keep from being
sucked into her web of misery.

Juliana's cell phone rang, and she saw
it was Mrs. Romanello, who lived next door to her and Jeremy. If Paullina was
Juliana's mother by birth, Mrs. R was the mother of her heart.

Juliana went into the living room to
take the call. “Good morning.”

“Hello, hon. Where are you hiding out? I
have some-thing here for you.”

“What is it?”

“A delivery. You'll have to come see.”
Juliana checked her watch. “I'm at my mother's. I'll stop by on my way to the
salon.”

“See you then.”

She went back into the bedroom. “I've
got to go.”

“Don't let me keep you.”

“Do you need anything?”

Paullina waved her hand. “With all this?
What more could I want?”

“I have something to do tomorrow after
work. Do you still have the money I gave you last week? You could order a pizza
for dinner.” Juliana doubted she would bother. If someone wasn't there to make
sure she ate, all she did was drink.

“Stop hovering.”

“There's chicken parm for tonight. I
want you to eat it, do you hear me?”

“Go to work, Juliana.”

Juliana turned and left the room without
another word.
Why do I bother? If she
wants to drink herself to death, maybe I should just let her. No one else cares
if she does. Why do I?

Driving back to Butchers Hill on Eastern
Avenue, Juliana pondered those questions. Born eight years after Vincent,
Juliana knew she had been an accident. Her oldest sister and brother, Serena
and Domenic, fled the moment they graduated from high school. Both had families
on the West Coast that Juliana barely knew. Hell, she barely knew them. They
moved out before she was six. She couldn't blame them for running for their
lives after they endured some of the worst years of their parents' marriage.
Donatella and Vincent lived in Baltimore but only bothered with their mother
when Juliana guilted them into it.

All her life Juliana had been the adult
in her relation-ship with her mother.
Maybe
it's my fault she can't do anything for herself. Maybe if I just stopped she
would have to deal with the mess she's made of her life.
Even as she
thought it, though, Juliana knew she could never act on it.

Her mood lifted when she parked on
Collington Street. Without even a glance at her own front door, Juliana walked
into Mrs. Romanello's cluttered house. “Hello!”

“Back here!”

The first thing Juliana saw when she
walked into the kitchen was the huge vase of at least two-dozen fragrant red
roses. “Oh, wow! Who sent you flowers?”

Mrs. Romanello kissed Juliana's cheek. “They're
not for me, hon.” She handed the card to Juliana.

Startled, Juliana said, “For me?”

Mrs. R nodded. “Open it.”

Juliana fumbled with the envelope and
pulled out the card. “88 days. I love you. Jeremy.”

“Jeremy?” Mrs. R asked.

Juliana nodded and blinked back tears.

Mrs. R reached for Juliana's hand. “Did
something happen this weekend?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Tears and two dozen roses? Something
happened.”

“I really don't want to talk about it,
okay?”

“Of course. How about some coffee or
breakfast?”

Mrs. R, who was widowed with four
children scattered around the country, loved to feed her and Jeremy. “I'm good,
thanks,” Juliana said with a smile for her friend. “I need to get to work. Why
don't you keep the flowers and enjoy them?”

“Don't be foolish. Take them over to
your house.”

“Um, I'm actually staying with a friend
right now.”

Mrs. R's eyes narrowed. “What friend are
you staying with? What's going on, Juliana?”

“Jeremy and I are taking a break. It's
nothing, really. We just need a breather to figure some things out.”

“I don't like the sound of that. People
who love each other don't take breaks.”

Ouch. “It'll be fine,” Juliana said with
more certainty than she felt. “I'll take the flowers to the salon.” She tipped
the vase over the sink to dump out the water.

“Where are you staying?”

“With a friend. I'm fine. I promise.”
Juliana kissed her. “I've got to go.”

Mrs. R took hold of Juliana's chin, her
wise old eyes scanning Juliana's face. “You're
not
fine. I know you. But I won't push. You know where I am if you
need me.”