“IF YOU BREAK one more ribbon, you’re going to have six children!”
Peals of feminine laughter filled Martin’s Bakery Sunday afternoon. The room was crowded with women of all ages for Brit’s bridal shower. Since Harley had been there this morning, pink and white streamers had been hung on the walls and a banner proclaiming “Joe and Brittany Forever” was fixed in the window.
“You’ll be next.” Mildred stared up at Harley in that unfocused way of hers. Something behind Harley caught the old woman’s attention. “Unless it’s Reggie.” She lowered her voice. “That is Brit’s sister Reggie serving cake behind you, isn’t it?”
Harley glanced over her shoulder. “Yes.”
The bride had invited Harley to the shower after a morning spent working on the happy couple’s house. Reggie, Brit’s twin, had seen Harley’s discomfort when she’d arrived and had asked her to help with the event. Harley was grateful, because helping made her feel less of an outsider.
Several silly games later and the presents were being opened.
Harley refilled Mildred’s punch glass while Brit pulled apart the wrapping on her next shower gift with the utmost care. The bride-to-be didn’t look as if she’d spent the morning at a job site. Her hair was straight and combed, her makeup flawless, and her dress a lilac flowered print that brought out the pink in her cheeks.
Harley envied Brit’s energy. She still had a jet lag hangover.
Joe’s teenage daughter, Sam, sat next to Brit, wearing a blue sundress and a sunny smile. She was making a bouquet from the bows and ribbons from Brit’s shower gifts.
“Where did you meet Vince?” Mildred asked, keeping Harley from moving to refill the punch glasses at the next table. “Was it at a racetrack?”
“No.” Harley set the heavy glass pitcher on the table. “It was—”
“Oh, I bet it was through an online dating service.” A diminutive woman with white hair barely longer than Gabe’s military cut edged into the conversation from her seat next to Mildred. “You can get anything on the internet nowadays.”
“My money’s on a matchmaker.” A thin woman with elegant features and a tight white bun at the nape of her neck grinned. “So many young people don’t have time to date.”
Three pairs of eyes stared at Harley, waiting for her to answer.
“I’m afraid it’s not as exciting or buzzworthy or romantic as any of your guesses,” Harley said, feeling flustered.
“Never mind the inquisition.” Jessica appeared at Harley’s side, smelling of sugar. She carried cupcakes with white frosting and flower rosettes, which the baker distributed from a tray. “Don’t you remember what I told you this morning? Not much happens here, so any news is big news.”
“I’m not news,” Harley insisted, suddenly concerned that they’d wheedle the balcony failure from her just as easily as Gabe had discovered the location of Vince’s mother. “I also have no news. In fact, I’m not interesting in any way. Did you hear the mother of the bride got stuck in traffic and couldn’t make the shower?”
The elderly women leaned closer, gossip predators smelling blood.
“I’d tell them where you met Vince,” Jessica advised. She finished doling out cupcakes and repositioned her tray, pausing to stare at each white-haired woman in turn. “Sometimes you ladies come on too strong.”
“Who? Us?” The petite woman with the pixie cut sat back.
“I think I’m offended.” The slender woman with the ballerina bun sat back.
“I think Jessica knows us too well.” Mildred sat back and grinned.
Harley picked up the pitcher and poured punch into the next empty glass. “It’s all very boring. We met at work. He’s a carpenter and—”
“She’s an architect,” Reggie interrupted, although Harley didn’t remember telling her. “Ladies, I’m collecting your bingo cards. Make sure your names are on them.”
“An architect.” The woman with the bun handed over her card, sounding impressed.
“Dating a carpenter.” The diminutive woman gave Reggie her card and Mildred’s. “Common interests lead to lifelong partnerships.”
“A match made in heaven,” said Mildred. “She dreams it. He builds it.”
Harley moved on with the punch. “If only it was that easy.”
* * *
“DID YOU GET a wedding gift for the happy couple?” Gabe stood at the corner of the town square.
The afternoon sun was warm but not Houston brutal. The sky was a cloudless blue, like Harley’s eyes.
The brothers had just finished watching a baseball game at El Rosal while Brit had her bridal shower. Joe was inside, having stopped to talk to the sheriff.
“I haven’t bought anything yet.” Vince had been too worried about showing up at the wedding. “Any ideas?”
Gabe rubbed his hands together. “I’ve got a sweet lead on a motorcycle. It needs a little work, but—”
“Seriously?” Vince poked Gabe’s solid bicep. “Joe’s first wife died in a motorcycle crash.”
Gabe swatted Vince’s hand away. “Hey, Sam works on cars. You think she won’t appreciate a motorcycle for a little rebellion?”
“Ah, the truth comes out.” Vince shook his head. “You’re trying to make sure our niece carries on the Messina family tradition and terrorizes the town on two wheels.”
Gabe shrugged. “Admit it. The idea appeals to you, too.”
“It doesn’t.” Well, Vince wouldn’t mind taking to the saddle once more, just for old time’s sake.
“It does.” Gabe read his thoughts and grinned.
“It might,” Vince allowed. “But to be clear, it holds no appeal for me as a gift, either for Joe or for Sam. If you’re looking for a big-ticket item, they could use a riding mower. There must be three acres of grass to mow on that property.”
“We’ll talk motorcycle getaways later.” Gabe nodded toward El Rosal, where Joe was exiting the restaurant. “I know a guy who can hook us up with a deal on a mower, I think.”
“Someone in town or—”
“Of course, someone in town.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “I know people everywhere.”
And as if to prove it, a truck drove slowly past. The driver honked and waved. “Hey, Gabe!”
“How…?” This was nothing like the reception Vince had received. Or Joe, for that matter. “You’ve been here…what? A week?” And already Gabe knew someone who could hook them up with a deal on a riding mower?
“People like me, brother.” He gave Vince a love tap to the shoulder.
“Sorry for the wait.” Joe joined them and they headed toward the river, where there was a shortcut back to the garage. “What were we talking about?”
“Inside El Rosal?” Gabe chuckled. “Who can remember? But what we need to discuss is your bachelor party. Do you want to go into the city? Do you want to do something wild? Do you want me to find a strip club?”
“This is my second wedding.” Joe waved his hands in the negative. “I want to keep it low-key or do nothing at all.”
They passed by small Craftsman homes, many of which had well-kept yards or fresh coats of paint. The town was experiencing a rebirth.
Vince snapped off a leaf from a shade tree as they walked beneath it. “Gabe wouldn’t know low-key if it jumped out at him from that tree.”
“If low key jumped out at me, at the very least, I’d introduce myself.” Gabe strolled backward in front of them. “Seriously, we need to do something to mark this occasion.”
“Well…” Joe hesitated.
“There is something you want to do,” Gabe crowed.
“I wouldn’t mind having a bachelor party with some of my friends here in town.” Joe spoke tentatively, as if he expected Gabe to make fun of the idea.
“Sure, sure.” Gabe continued to walk backward. “We’ll invite Will. He’s your best man. And the sheriff. I could still arrange for a woman to come out of the cake.”
“No women. No cakes.” Vince’s little brother was all grown up, ordering Gabe around.
Which was great, considering Gabe had never grown up.
“Beer and nachos then,” Vince suggested. “We can hold it at the garage. Pick a day and invite whoever you want.”
“You might be surprised as to who I invite,” Joe said somewhat cagily.
“But it’s your day, so who cares?” Vince silenced Gabe with a glance.
They reached a stretch of undeveloped land by the river and took a path that led to the bridge near the garage. A few minutes later, they’d returned.
“I’m gonna make some phone calls.” Gabe settled at a picnic table, giving Vince a look that said he was going to contact a guy about a riding mower.
“Vince, I want to show you something.” Joe unlocked the door to the office and led him into the service bays.
Vince had gone into the garage yesterday to wash up and he’d done so quickly, trying to avoid the memories with some success.
A whiff of motor oil as he stepped in and he was cannonballed back in time.
I can’t touch it. Dad sat huddled in the corner of the garage with Mom next to him. It’s booby trapped.
Vince knows all about traps. Mom had her arm around Dad’s shoulders. Just tell him what the timing is for a ’57 Chevy. She kissed Dad’s forehead and then looked up at Vince encouragingly. You can do that, can’t you?
Vince wasn’t sure if Mom was asking him or Dad. He’d been eight or nine. Mom had discovered his talent for taking things apart and putting them back together. She’d been pulling Vince away from play time more frequently to cover in the garage. But this was the first time Vince remembered watching his father and wondering why he was acting so strangely.
“You comin’?” Joe called out to him, impatience threading his voice.
Vince walked slowly across the service bays.
There was a shiny red-metal tool chest on the back wall. A bulletin board with photos of Brit and Sam hung nearby. A calendar with a heart drawn around Saturday’s wedding date above the workbench. Comforting sights. Comforting because they hadn’t been around when he’d grown up.
“Over here.” Joe stood by a cupboard hung on the wall in the far corner.
Cheap plywood. Never painted. Hung slightly off level. Vince wanted to straighten it.
Fix it. The story of my life.
But the cabinet… It was where Vince used to store things when he was called home from school. He couldn’t remember what he might have left in there.
Joe opened the door and removed a stack of books, setting them on the small countertop. “Sam found this stuff after we moved in. I figured I’d leave it for you to go through.”
The stack was organized from thinnest to thickest. A car magazine. A slim, black, photo album. Vince’s freshman yearbook. An algebra book.
Vince didn’t touch any of it. “This is all trash.”
“Sam will be disappointed.” Joe smiled at Vince as if they were the closest of brothers with no secrets between them. “She’s read every signature in your yearbook. She’s asked about every photo in this.” He held up the photo album and flipped it open. “Do you remember this picture?”
Vince bent forward to see.
Mom was standing behind the three Messina boys. Joe looked as neat as a staged living room in one of those mansions Vince worked on in Texas. Pressed trousers and a blue-checked, short-sleeved button-down. It’d been his fifth birthday. He beamed at the camera.
Gabe’s red-and-white-striped shirt was streaked with dirt. He’d been frogging down by the river and had been upset to be called back, even if it was for cake. He wore a black motorcycle helmet with the visor up. Vince’s hands were stuffed in the pockets of his grease-stained blue coveralls. The legs and sleeves were cuffed, because they were Dad’s. He was grinning, probably because he was on a cake-induced sugar high.
Mom had her hands on Vince’s shoulders and Gabe’s. Her soft brown hair curled around her face, accenting an easygoing smile. She loved birthdays. Anyone’s birthday. She’d sing “Happy Birthday” from breakfast until bedtime, making the birthday boy feel special.
Vince leaned back, swallowing thickly. “That was a good day.”
“Look at the captions.” Joe read them, perhaps sensing Vince needed distance and wouldn’t. “‘Gabe, the jokester. Vince, the fixer. Joe, my favorite.’” Joe lifted his blue-eyed gaze to Vince’s.
There was so much of their mother in his eyes. In the cheekbones. In his smile sometimes.
“Don’t feel like you have to apologize,” Vince said gruffly. “Gabe and I knew you were her favorite.”
Joe shrugged, closing the album. “Didn’t keep her from leaving me.” There was hurt in his voice, even after all this time.
Vince stared at the pile of books. Should he take them?
“Sam found these in your algebra book.” Joe held up a small stack of hall passes. “All signed by Mom. Never used. You had carte blanche to take a hike whenever you wanted to. And here I thought I was her favorite.”
“You were. It says so on the photo.” It hurt to argue the fact since Vince had been the one she’d relied on.
Joe picked up the books and handed them to Vince. “You should have these.”
Vince hesitated before taking them. His curiosity won out.
Outside, car doors slammed. Gabe said something. Harley laughed. That laugh. It called to him. Vince started walking.
Joe stepped in front of Vince as he moved toward the door. “Do you know why Gabe and I worry about you? Why we pester you to get on the phone and talk, and ask about your relationships?”
Vince had told Harley he’d thought they had nothing better to do than pester him, but now that he was with them, he knew that wasn’t true.
When Vince didn’t answer, Joe said, “Because you’d never tell us if something was wrong.”
How right they were.
“But if you had someone, someone you loved and who loved you back…” Joe’s gaze drifted to the office and the females who were filling it up. “They’d be there when you wouldn’t let us be.”
“You mean if I’m diagnosed with depression or schizophrenia, like Dad, that I’d have someone to rely on.” His worst fear. The words tumbled off Vince’s tongue like bitter pills. “Someone who’d stick with me, for better or worse. Like Mom.” Like Mom would have done if Vince hadn’t told her to get out.
“No.” Joe drew back. His face was chiseled in confusion. “I meant we worry about you being alone and not having a family.”
“I’m not alone.” Anger tunneled into his chest, a big emotion in a small cavity. “I have… I have…” He couldn’t think of who he had—not Harley or his mother—but he wasn’t pathetic, the way Joe’s words made him feel. He’d built his life to avoid a repeat of his childhood.
“Hey, settle down.” Joe put his palm on Vince’s shoulder. “I mean, of course, you’re not alone. You have Harley now, who seems great. Why wouldn’t you want to marry her?”
The books felt heavy in Vince’s arms. “Just because you found someone to marry you, doesn’t mean I need someone. Marrying Harley would be a huge mistake.”
A door latched.
Harley stood a foot away from them, staring at Vince as if he needed a hug and she wasn’t going to give him one.