Twenty-Three

Gabe struggled to keep his roiling emotions from showing on his face. The retainer alone wasn’t impossible, but the rest of it... His hand shook as he removed his checkbook from the inside of his coat pocket.

Adam Winchester, Ventura County’s family law expert, leaned back in his leather chair. His unruly gray eyebrows, thick neck and craggy face reminded Gabe of a mountain man rather than a high-powered attorney. “I’m sorry, Gabe. This will be tough on you.”

“It was inevitable,” Gabriel said briefly. “I can pay you the retainer upfront, but as for the rest of it, you’ll have to bill me. I’ll do the best I can.” He looked across the enormous desk at the wily old lawyer. “I’m good for every penny of your money. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

Gabe nodded, satisfied.

“Why don’t you go home and think about this before you pay me anything,” the lawyer suggested.

“What’s the point? I have no choice.”

Winchester leaned forward. “Actually, you do.”

“How?”

“The money that will go to your ex-wife is a given. We don’t even have to litigate. In California, spousal and child support are formulas. Other than that, Kristen has no claim to your business. The trust was set up so she can’t benefit from any proceeds should your family sell it. I’ll be completely honest with you, Gabe. I believe we can win with your own daughter, but the custody case regarding your stepchildren is a lost cause. You won’t get them and you’ll piss away a fortune in legal fees in the process.”

A thin white line appeared around Gabriel’s mouth. “I have to try,” he said, his voice low.

“Take my advice. Work this out with your ex-wife outside the courtroom. It’s in both of your interests.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“There is another alternative.”

Gabe’s eyes lit up with a wary hope. “What’s that?”

“You could give her a substantial sum of money and absolve her of child support. Agree to lenient visitation with no responsibility on her part. In other words, you share custody and pay for everything, and then some.”

Gabriel laughed. “I’ll definitely think about that.” He laid the check on the desk. “Meanwhile, take this.”

Winchester rose and held out his hand. “I’ll give it my best.”

Gabe shook it and nodded. “I’m counting on that.” Alone, in the elevator, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He’d never felt such overwhelming despair. He couldn’t face going home, not yet, when he was still raw and reeling from the money he’d spent and the sad prospect that it probably wouldn’t do anything for him.

In his idealistic youth, he’d never once considered a career in law, or any other money-making endeavor. Now that choice amazed him. Why hadn’t someone warned him just how much adulthood cost? High schools should have classes that included job hunting and money managing. Holding down a job wasn’t enough. Teenagers should have ninety percent of their net income withheld so that real life, whenever it happened, wasn’t such a shock.

Outside, the noonday sun was hot on his bare head. Slipping on his sunglasses, he turned down the busier side of the street, hoping for a sidewalk café that wasn’t too crowded. Intent on his mission, he would have missed the small, red-haired woman walking past him if she hadn’t turned around, given him a second glance and called out his name.

He recognized her voice immediately. Turning, he forced a smile. “Shelly. How are you?”

“I’m great. What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

“I had an appointment,” he said. “What about you?”

She pointed to a glass-front commercial space across the street. “That’s my office. I was heading out to lunch. Will you join me? My treat. You owe me one,” she said before he could refuse.

He hesitated.

“C’mon, Gabe,” she coaxed him. “You have to eat.”

He smiled. “I’d love to have lunch with you, Shelly, and I do owe you. Lunch is on me.”

She relaxed. “How about Russell’s? They have about everything anyone could want.”

Gabe didn’t care what he ate. All he wanted was to get through this, find his car and drive home, alone.

Shelly chattered away beside him, apparently not requiring a response, which was preferable to a real conversatlon where he had to think and pay attention. The restaurant was at the end of the block. There was no outside seating, but the hostess found them a table by the window.

“I’ll have iced tea and a barbecue chicken salad,” Shelly said to the waitress.

Gabe closed his menu. “I’ll have the same.”

“So,” Shelly said when they were alone, “what appointment brought you downtown?”

He drained his water glass and avoided her eyes. “A legal matter.”

She studied his face for a minute and then changed the subject. “I was out to see Miss Mollie early this morning. I think she’ll be ready to advance a level in the Santa Barbara show. What do you think?”

Grateful for her tact, he answered honestly. “I think you need a little more experience. You might be okay, but why risk it?”

“Why not?” she asked. “What do I have to lose?”

“Confidence.”

She laughed. “I’ve got plenty of that. One bad set of scores won’t faze me.”

He stared at her, realizing that what she said was true. Shelly Sims was a woman who took chances, rolled with the punches and didn’t take setbacks personally. Her line of work required it. Was she born with the ability to shrug things off, or had she acquired the talent along the way? “Does anything throw you?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “I’m assuming you don’t mean literally.”

He shook his head. “You know what I’m talking about. Frankly, I’d like some of your attitude.”

“I’m flattered.”

“How do you do it?”

A flush rose in her cheeks. She twisted her water glass around on the table with perfectly manicured fingers. He noticed that her nails were squared off with those whiter-than-white tips that looked like bleached bone. “I don’t have as much at stake as you do,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not married and I have no children. I don’t have to weigh decisions all that carefully. If I end up destitute, I won’t be taking anyone down with me.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“To a degree,” she acknowledged, “but not entirely.”

The waitress set their salads in front of them.

Gabriel picked up his fork, suddenly hungry. He didn’t want Shelly Sim’s solitary life, but he didn’t want his own, either. Surely there was something in the middle. Once, he thought he had it. Then Kristen left.

“How long have you been divorced?”

Her question startled him. “Legally, about six months, but we’ve been apart nearly two years.”

“What happened?”

Gabe wasn’t a proponent of full disclosure, especially when it came to personal information. He was about to suggest another topic of conversation when it occurred to him that this might be the first step toward desensitizing himself to the bleaker aspects of his situation. “She left me,” he admitted. “It came out of the blue. I didn’t even know she was unhappy.”

“Has she said anything since?”

“No, not to me, but she’s implied a few things to the kids.”

Shelly raised an auburn eyebrow. “Such as?”

Gabriel fought against the resistance knotting his stomach. “I wasn’t there for her, whatever that means. Our daughter, Claire, was born with a condition called Asberger’s syndrome. She would have been difficult for anyone to manage, but for Kristen, it was impossible.”

“Why?”

“Claire doesn’t relate like other kids. She doesn’t react with compassion or appreciation. She can’t understand concepts like fairness or sharing. We—Kristen had the other two kids as well. I moved us in with my mother, thinking it would take some of the housekeeping pressure off. That was a disaster. It was too much for Kristen. She threw in the towel.” He drew a deep breath. “And I inherited the whole mess.”

“I’m sorry, Gabriel. You’ve been through a great deal. I think it’s commendable of you to take on your stepchildren.”

“I appreciate that, Shelly. I wish everyone saw it that way.”

“Meaning?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I’m through. It’s your turn. You haven’t told me anything about yourself. How have you managed to avoid the domestic life so far?”

“I was married for a while,” she said slowly. “Fortunately, there were no children. He’s gone for good. I don’t even know what happened to him.”

“Why didn’t it work out?”

“I’m not sure, really. We were young and wanted different things. I don’t remember being particularly devastated when he told me he was leaving. I watched him go with a sense of relief.” She smiled. “That was ten years ago. There have been a few possibilities since then, but nothing panned out. I’m beginning to think I’m not the marrying kind.”

Personally, he agreed with her. She wasn’t a natural, comfortable kind of woman, certainly not the kind who appealed to him. “What about kids?” he asked.

She shook her head emphatically. “Not for me. Children are a different species. I can’t even talk to them.”

“C’mon, I’ve seen you talk to Eric.”

“He’s nearly grown up. I’m talking about children, anyone under the age of twelve. You know, the ones who get into movies at reduced prices and order off a different menu. They’re the ones I don’t get.”

This time Gabe’s laugh was genuine. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Her eyes met his over the rim of her iced tea glass. “I’m glad we understand each other,” she said. “That way there won’t be any misunderstandings or expectations.”

It took him a full minute to get it. Normally, women didn’t come on to him. The fact that he was married with three children kept even the most persistent at bay. “Look, Shelly,” he began. “I like you and I’ve enjoyed our conversation.”

“But?”

He wasn’t any good at this. “I’m sorry. It’s no reflection on you. You’re a lovely woman, but I’m not ready for more than friendship.”

“I’ve heard that before. When men say they’re not ready, it really means they’re not interested.”

He didn’t contradict her. The minute dragged out into two and then three. He couldn’t think of anything more to say.

Apparently, she’d had enough. Gathering her purse, she stood. Her smile was brittle. “See you around.”

Leaning back in his chair, Gabe loosened his tie and released his breath. He’d walked into that one with eyes wide open. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, not quite a disaster, but close enough. What next, he thought? What else could possibly happen?

Dropping two twenties on the table, he left the restaurant, climbed into his truck and headed south on the 101. Passing his own exit, he turned off on the road leading to Ramona’s. Today was her day off. With any luck, she would be home.

She answered the door immediately. With a finger against her lips, she ushered him inside. “I just put the boys down for their nap. If they don’t hear you, we’ll have peace and quiet for about an hour.”

“I won’t stay that long,” Gabe assured her. “I came by to run something by you.”

“Come into the kitchen. We can talk while I make us something to eat.”

Gabe followed her to the back of what looked like an enormous great room. The house, a restored old barn in the middle of renovation, was in the roughest stage of its remodeling. Only the structure remained intact. Inside, every wall had been demolished. Open beams exposed new insulation and the staircase had no railing. Only the kitchen, Ramona’s office, was complete, with a Wolf oven, stainless-steel appliances, a sub-zero refrigerator, a convection oven, double sinks and enough counter space for four people to work comfortably.

He pulled up a chair and sat down at the oak table, marveling, not for the first time, at how Ramona had managed to inherit the best characteristics of both parents, their mother’s creativity and their father’s pragmatic, no-nonsense ability to sift through the peripheral and expose the core of what was important. It was the latter quality he needed today. “I’ve decided to sell the horses.”

She nodded. With a swift slash of her knife, she sliced through two heirloom tomatoes. “I thought you would. It makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, it’s such an enormous amount of money.”

“Why don’t I feel good about it?”

Wedging whole basil leaves and fresh mozzarella between the tomatoes, Ramona scooped up the two stacks, arranged them on a toasted baguette and drizzled olive oil over the top. Then she poured two glasses of bottled water, added slices of lemon and set everything on the table. “You will if you think about it.”

“I could use some direction.”

She set two plates and forks on the table and sat down across from him. “Okay. First of all, this money will benefit everyone, including you.”

“Go on.”

“Luz is okay, and so am I, but Pilar could use some help and Ma is getting older. Running a B and B is hard for her.” She lifted a forkful of tomatoes and cheese to her lips and nibbled delicately. “I think you could use the money, too,” she said between swallows, “and not only because of the kids.”

“What do you mean?”

Ramona’s blue eyes clouded. “You need a challenge, Gabe. I’m not sure you realize it, but you’ve been in a rut for quite some time now. Nothing excites you. Your eyes don’t light up anymore. Starting up a business of your own, one that isn’t Dad’s, would do you a world of good.”

“I appreciate the counseling, Ramona, but I was asking about Pilar.”

“Pilar?”

“You said Pilar could use some help. What’s going on?”

“Essentially, she’s not making it.”

“Why not?”

Ramona chewed thoughtfully. “Some of it comes from her lifestyle, but there’s more to it. Her asthma prescriptlons cost money. That isn’t her fault. When Dad died, you and Luz were on your own. Your education was paid for. Danny and I were settling down. Pilar was still in college. She wasn’t able to finish. She has loan debt and she can’t go back to school until that’s cleared up. It would help a lot if she could finish. Luz helps her out.”

Gabe stared at her, stricken. It never occurred to him that his pretty baby sister, with her wild butterscotch hair, honey-gold skin and dark eyes, hadn’t been provided for. He’d forgotten all about her asthma. He’d been so caught up with his own family problems that he wasn’t there for his sisters when they needed him. And now, when he’d been offered this windfall, they were standing by him willing to abide by his decision. “Christ, I’m a selfish bastard.”

Ramona reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You’re no such thing. What could you have done, Gabe? You’re up to your ears with your own problems.”

But now you can help. The unspoken words hung there in the space between them.

“Don’t beat yourself up too much,” his sister said. “You came here to tell me you were selling the horses. At some point you must have realized that was the right thing to do.”

Gabe finished his tomatoes, stood and kissed her forehead. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“Tell me when one of us is in trouble. Okay?”

“Okay. I promise.”

Driving home through the buttery afternoon sunlight, Gabe found himself at loose ends. He didn’t want to go home and he didn’t want to go back to work. He missed Whitney, her rich laugh and the tiny vee between her eyebrows that meant she was thinking. He missed her voice, the simplicity of her meals and the careful, complete way she had of answering questions. She was so sensible, so grounded. Seeing her working in the kitchen, quizzing the kids about their lessons, carrying in the tea tray for guests, gave him a glimpse of a world he’d only dreamed of, a graceful, ordered world as far away from the pulsing, scattered chaos of the hacienda as one could possibly be.

An idea occurred to him and gathered momentum in his mind. The more he thought, the more possible it became.