CHAPTER 14

Alyssa shifted on the sofa in the waiting room outside the cardiac unit at Mercy General Hospital. Several hours had dragged by since they’d raced to the hospital. Aunt Thee was still in surgery.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be okay.” Jake sat beside her, his arm draped across the back of the sofa just above her shoulders.

“I hope so,” she whispered, her throat so tight she could barely speak.

“The nurse said Thee was conscious when the ambulance brought her in. That’s a good sign.”

“She hasn’t been herself for months.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aunt Thee has seemed slower … more tired. I just thought she was getting older. I should have made her go to a doctor.”

“Sometimes it’s difficult to tell what’s age related and what isn’t. It doesn’t do any good to beat yourself up. You’ll just need to watch her more carefully in the future.”

The note of compassion in his voice surprised her. She wasn’t sure what she expected from him. He joked a lot, yet he could be alarmingly serious. She’d told him that he didn’t have to stay with her, but Jake insisted on waiting, and she was grateful he was keeping her company.

“I had been planning on getting my own place,” she said. “Maybe I should stay with Aunt Thee. She’s all the family I have. I love her so much.”

Until now it hadn’t dawned on Alyssa how alone she’d feel without her aunt. When she’d been growing up in the LeCroix household, she’d missed her parents terribly. Then she’d been devastated by the way everyone blamed her for the baby’s disappearance. Alyssa had been totally unprepared for the love Aunt Thee offered. At first she’d been shell-shocked and couldn’t respond, but as time went on, Alyssa came to think of her aunt as a second mother.

The door to the cardiac unit swung open and a man clad in an operating gown and cap walked into the waiting area. Jake rose, bringing Alyssa up with him, his arm bracing her.

“You’re Theodora Canali’s daughter?”

Alyssa managed to nod and chose not to explain she was a niece not a daughter. After he introduced himself as Dr. Robinson, Alyssa asked, “How is she?”

“We had to insert a pacemaker, but it went very smoothly. I expect her to make a full recovery.”

“When may I see her?”

“It’ll be an hour or so that they can bring her out of recovery into ICU. You’ll be able to see her then. I’ll have the nurse come get you.” The surgeon spoke to her for a few minutes, discussing Aunt Thee’s condition before leaving.

“Are you all right?” Jake asked, and she realized she was trembling.

“I’m fine. I’m relieved, but—”

“When was the last time you ate?”

She had to think a second. “This morning.”

His sturdy arm bracing her, he guided Alyssa out of the waiting area. “Let’s go to the cafeteria and grab a bite. By the time we finish, your aunt should be out of recovery.”

The cafeteria was closed, and they had to settle for packaged sandwiches from a vending machine. They took the food up to the waiting room. Alyssa wanted to be there in case the nurse came to find her.

“What about your mother?” she asked, realizing she’d been talking more and more about herself each time she was with Jake. He rarely mentioned anything personal.

“My mother died ten years ago next month.” His tone was surprisingly gentle. “I was nearby when it happened. I got to her immediately, but she was gone.”

“A heart attack?”

He shook his head, his dark eyes intense. “Aneurysm. At least she didn’t suffer.”

“Seeing her like that must have been terrible.” She couldn’t imagine what she would have done had Aunt Thee collapsed and died in front of her. His mother’s tragic death was bound to have left an emotional scar. “What happened?”

He hesitated a moment, unspoken pain reflected in his eyes. “My mother was a strong woman. She’d worked for years at Billie Bob’s Bait Barge on the commercial dock in Mobile. For a woman with no education, the pay was good. She claimed it kept the bills paid.”

“Did your father give her money for child support?”

“He said he tried, but she wouldn’t accept it. I believe him. My mother was stubborn. She didn’t want a thing to do with Max after the divorce.”

“I see,” Alyssa replied, but she didn’t. Why hadn’t Max found a way to help his son?

“Even after I graduated from high school and was on my own, Mother insisted on staying at Billie Bob’s. She was lugging a fifty pound bucket of bait anchovies when she keeled over.”

“Oh, my God! Why was she carrying such a heavy load?”

“Tips. It’s a four-letter word. The rich dudes who sport fish out of Mobile are big tippers—especially if a woman brings them the bait. For years my mother delivered the bait to make extra money.”

She didn’t have to ask if they’d been close; she could hear it in his voice. But what about Max? Was Jake close to his father now? Should she tell him about Max’s visit?

“Your parents were divorced when you were little, right?” she asked. He’d told her this much when he’d taken her to his father’s party, but he’d seemed reluctant to reveal anything more.

“They’d married because Mother was pregnant. They were divorced right after I was born. Max didn’t show up again until the year after my mother died.” He studied her a moment as if weighing whether or not to say more. “Max decided he needed an heir. He’d had a heart attack and was feeling vulnerable.”

“You hadn’t seen him once in all those years?”

“Nope. Max was too busy making money, and he wasn’t interested in me. When he reappeared, I didn’t know who he was until he told me.”

“Are you two close now?”

Jake shrugged. “Not really. Max tries but we don’t have much in common except the business.”

Don’t tell him about Max’s visit, she cautioned herself. Don’t come between a father and his son. She realized now how much Aunt Thee meant to her even though she’d belatedly appeared in her life. Let Jake and his father work things out. Obviously, they’d discussed getting rid of Rossi Designs, and Jake had refused. Why make matters worse by telling him about Max’s threat?

“I suppose you think I’m damn lucky,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Actually, she’d thought the opposite. A father who hadn’t been interested in his son and a mother who’d died so tragically did not seem to be lucky.

“I’ve been given a business without having to lift a finger.”

“I assumed you earned it by working extra hard for your father.” Having seen the ugly side of Max Williams, she was positive this was true. He would be a difficult man to please.

“I’ve done my best. Max doesn’t give compliments, but he officially retired and made me CEO.”

“That says a lot.”

His dark, earnest eyes sought hers. “I’ve made a number of very profitable acquisitions since I’ve been with TriTech.”

She tried to joke, but it was difficult knowing Aunt Thee was so ill. “Other than Rossi Designs, tell me about your most interesting acquisition.”

“Is this a test?”

“I’m curious, that’s all.” Knowing more about him made her feel connected to him in a way that was difficult to explain. Here she was in the city where she’d grown up with no one to keep her company in a crisis except a man she hardly knew.

His head dropped back and he gazed up at the ceiling. “Agave. I cornered the agave market.”

She racked her brains but couldn’t come up with anything. “I give up. What’s agave?”

“Cactus. It’s a spindly blue plant. When you hack away the leaves you have something that looks like a huge pineapple. It weighs a hundred pounds or more. Chop up the pina, roast it in steam ovens and you have the basis of tequila.”

“You cornered the tequila market?”

“Damn right. On the yachts I skippered before good old Max decided to reappear in my life, margaritas were the rage. With each drink the guys liked to have a shooter, a shot glass of straight tequila.

“After Max brought me onboard, I started thinking. People were beginning to drink Tequila straight like martinis, and they paid a premium for fine tequila. Where did it come from? How was it produced? The Kennedys made their fortune from imported Scotch. Why not tequila?”

“Interesting.”

“It takes eight years for an agave plant to reach maturity. So what they’re harvesting now reflects what was planted when tequila wasn’t in demand the way it is now.”

“You’ve made a killing.”

He nodded, obviously pleased with himself. “I engineered the deal to purchase the agave fields once owned by José Cuevo and Sauza. To have the word ‘tequila’ on the label, it must be certified as coming from blue agave plants from the Jalisco region of Mexico. Anything else cannot be labeled tequila.”

“Like champagne. It has to be called sparkling wine unless it comes from the Champagne region of France, right?”

“Correct.”

“Same thing for Chianti and sherry, I think,” she said and he nodded, seeming surprised. “See, I’m not just a bimbo who makes jewelry.”

“You sure had me fooled.”

She socked him in the arm. It felt good to be teasing again, but she wouldn’t be able to relax until Aunt Thee was out of the hospital.

“Even my father has been blown away by what tequila nets worldwide. Tequila bars are sprouting up everywhere. People sit down and sample tequila that’s been aged for years like Scotch.”

“Is it that expensive?”

“Close enough for government work,” he said, his tone joking. “Max has to admit I’ve taken the company in new directions not only with tequila but with other ideas I’ve had.”

“Like what?”

“Like a lot of things.” There was an edge to his voice now. “My father was a master of what he did. Times are changing. We need to think globally now. TriTech started out being a group of Southern companies. Now we’re international.”

She wondered where Rossi Designs fit in. She didn’t view the world in such a big scope. She designed for a special woman—no matter what country she lived in—who wanted a unique piece of jewelry.

“Clay, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Wyatt, what are you doing here so late?” Clay asked. It was well after midnight and his mind was on overload from everything Maree and Dante had told him. He didn’t want to deal with his brother-in-law right now.

Wyatt had been waiting for him in the wood-paneled lobby of the Mayfair Club. Photographs of krewes who had won awards for their Mardi Gras floats decorated the walls. Early photographs showed floats that were laughably primitive when compared with the elaborate floats of today. From the far end of the lobby came the faint sound of voices. The bar was still open, but the lobby was deserted.

“Jake Williams is nothing like his father,” Wyatt said. “He’s still digging into Duvall Importing records.”

“So?”

Wyatt stabbed the air in front of Clay’s face with his finger. “So, he’ll find out about our scheme sooner or later.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Clay kept walking toward the bar. “Duvall Importing is part of TriTech now. There’s not much he can do.”

“I guess you’re right. I still can’t help worrying.”

Clay walked into the pub-style bar with his brother-in-law. He waved to the two old-timers leaning on the bar and chatting. They’d been friends of his grandfather, important men in their day, but now they didn’t have anything better to do than hang around the club and drink.

“Two cognacs,” he called to the bartender. He didn’t have to say Le Paradis. Joseph had been tending bar at the Mayfair Club for as long as Clay could remember. He knew exactly what each member drank.

“There’s another problem,” Wyatt said as they sat down in one of the red leather booths. “Phoebe.”

Clay almost felt sorry for Wyatt. For years, Wyatt had been in the middle between Clay and Phoebe. Wyatt ran interference for the whole dysfunctional LeCroix family. Hattie LeCroix was a bitch who didn’t care about anyone, and her husband, Gordon, survived by working nonstop and spending the rest of his time on the golf course where Hattie couldn’t pester him.

Wyatt constantly explained or apologized for one family member to another. It was a family joke that Wyatt should have been a shrink instead of an accountant. He’d changed a lot since he’d been young and Hattie had forced Gordon to send him to military school.

Joseph delivered the cognac in crystal snifters etched with a bold MC for Mayfair Club. Clay took a sip, savoring the ultrasmooth Le Paradis, thinking it was worth every penny and waiting for Wyatt to apologize for Phoebe.

“There’s no easy way to say this.” Wyatt hadn’t touched his drink. “Phoebe wants a divorce.”

“What?” Clay said the word so loudly that the men at the bar turned toward them. “It’s a joke, right?”

Clay had told Alyssa that he was getting a divorce. It was a ploy to smooth things over between them. Once they were lovers again, Clay was convinced he could persuade Alyssa that his marriage was nothing more than a marriage of convenience. He had absolutely no intention of splitting his fortune with his wife.

“Phoebe isn’t kidding.” Wyatt knocked back his cognac in a single gulp. “She’s in love with someone else.”

Clay didn’t believe Phoebe was serious, although she’d managed to convince her brother. She’d been in love with Clay since they were in high school. She’d gone to extraordinary lengths to trap him into marriage. Over the years, she’d continually cheated on him—to make him jealous.

“Tell Phoebe to get a lawyer, a good lawyer,” Clay replied, determined to call her bluff.

“She’s hired Mitchell Petersen.”

Clay swore under his breath. His wife had hired the best divorce attorney in the city. What was she up to?

“One more thing, Clay. There’s something I need you to do for me.”

Clay knew he couldn’t refuse. When he’d come to Wyatt, desperate to save his company, his brother-in-law had put him onto the scheme that had saved Duvall Imports. “Sure. What is it?”

“Don’t say one word to my parents about this divorce. You know how crazy my mother can get. Hattie adores you. She’ll do anything to keep Phoebe from divorcing you.”

“I won’t mention it,” he replied, still trying to come to grips with the possibility Phoebe really did intend to dump him. “Hattie’s a little crazy at times.”