He managed to catch a few hours of sleep on the couch before a knock on his door roused him. Nelia had stopped by to see how he was doing. After the almost-kiss last night, he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to invite her in when he was alone. But going out in his rumpled state wasn’t an option, so he had her wait on the couch while he threw on some clean clothes and set a new record for shaving.
They hopped into his car and headed for the same Northside Social coffee bar where he and Sarg took Lauralee after rescuing her from jail. His discomfort increased when he noted how subdued Nelia seemed. “Something wrong?”
As they climbed back into the car, coffee in hand, he knew by her stalling tactic he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “Tim and I had an argument. I thought he’d be happy I was pursuing my law school dream.”
“He’s not?”
She gulped down some of the coffee. “It takes me away from him more. I guess I can understand his side.”
“Is that the only reason?”
Nelia stopped smoking years ago. But as she saw a smoker outside who was puffing away, she licked her lips. She’d once told him smoking had been more of a nervous habit, and right now her nerves seemed as raw as steak tartare. “He accused me of doing this whole law thing as an excuse to come to D.C. more often.”
She didn’t have to voice the rest of it—as an excuse to come to D.C. to see Drayco. Then, she had dropped by this morning, hadn’t she? If that had been a surprise, her next comment was a complete shock. “I talked with Benny about divorce proceedings. I know I’ve always said how important my vows were to me, especially the whole ‘in sickness and in health’ part.”
“Is Tim getting worse?”
“No, he’s stable.” She’d finished her coffee in record time and was giving his coffee a wistful look, so he handed it over. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “I forgot you put salt in it.” She took another sip. “It’s not so bad when you get used to it.”
“Are you serious? About the divorce?”
She sighed. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just an informal conversation with Benny. Nothing official.”
Not knowing what to say, he changed the subject. “Feel like playing delivery girl?”
She managed a small smile which he took as a yes. He’d already made a mental map of the route he needed to take to an area he’d never visited before, near Holmes stream in Annandale. It was close to one of the many parklands throughout metro D.C. that made flying over it look like an aerial view of a rainforest.
The house they found was worlds away from the wall-to-wall brick colonials in northern Virginia. It looked like it dated from around 1950, with lots of wood and glass and hints of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Usonian architecture.
Drayco rang the bell. Gogo Cheng answered, dressed in a purple embroidered silk tunic that was a far cry from his customary martial arts uniform. He frowned when he saw Drayco. “Mr. Drayco. I was expecting someone else.”
“Sorry if I caught you at a bad time. When I called your studio, they said you came in late on Tuesday mornings.”
“It’s my parents. I asked them to come over—time to face the music. I’ve decided to tell them the truth about the painting.”
“Perhaps this will help.” Drayco gestured behind him, and Nelia joined him in the doorway, holding the re-wrapped painting. She handed it to Gogo, who looked from one to the other in shock, then motioned for them to follow him as he headed inside. Gogo carefully peeled off the paper and stared at it, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Where did you find this?”
“I tracked it down with a little help from Nelia here.” That, and a lot of help from a shadowy uncle.
“This will make it easier to tell my parents I’ve asked Ashley to marry me.”
As if on cue, Ashley Zamorra walked in from the back. She’d ditched her usual jeans in favor of an emerald green dress and earrings that set off the chestnut highlights in her updo. It made her look like a Hollywood starlet of the same era as the house.
Gogo thrust out the painting to her, and she beamed at him—obviously, he’d decided to tell her about it, after all. Taking it from him, she gingerly hung it on the empty hook on the wall. Then Gogo wrapped his arm around her waist as the two stood admiring the painting.
Ashley turned around to address Drayco, her expression turning more serious. “I went to the jail to talk with Uncle Edwin. He’s sorry for what he’s done. Turns out, he made some bad investments also on tips from Dad but was too embarrassed to tell anyone. My father was a regular Bernie Madoff.”
She slumped on the arm of a chair nearby, with Gogo’s arm still around her. “I’ve been thinking about my father more since Uncle Edwin’s arrest. I’m still angry with him. But I’m even angrier I won’t have the chance to hear him say he’s sorry.”
Her wide, brown eyes looked off into the distance. “If I’ve learned one thing working at the women’s shelter, it’s that how we’re treated as kids makes a big difference in how we deal with the world. Time to stop avoiding my grandparents and talk to them. Maybe they can help me understand my father.”
Drayco studied her wrinkled brow and clenched jaw, knowing the path to that understanding was going to be bumpy. “You told me you only saw your father once recently, when you took items to his condo. Was that the only time?”
She wiped a hand across her forehead. “What? Oh, you must mean that time I ran into him outside an ice cream shop in Clarendon. We exchanged some words. Not very kind ones, I’m afraid.”
Drayco heard a car’s engine shutting off in front of the house and nodded to Nelia so the two of them could make their exit. As they left, an elderly Chinese couple stopped and bowed to them.
Nelia slid into Drayco’s car. “You didn’t treat Ashley and Gogo like they were still murder suspects.”
“We can talk about that on the way.”
“On the way?”
“This is going to sound like a cheesy joke, but I’m taking you to meet my mother. Of course, when most people say that, they’re not referring to jail.”
“Will Benny be there?”
“All four-foot-nine of him.”
Whether his mother wanted to see him or not, Drayco didn’t really care. He’d lived most of his life without her approval, and he wasn’t going to start now. Sarg’s words echoed back to him, about Drayco feeling like he didn’t need anyone. He cast a sideways glance at Nelia who shot him a wicked smile as she fiddled with the radio and found a radio station playing KISS.