She smiled at him. So, let me see if I understand this fully.
Okay. His left eye squinted.
Josie leaned forward. Youre a smoking-hot reformed bad boy with a fabulous sense of humor, his own corporate empire, and mad kissing skills.
Ricks lips parted but nothing came out.
Im sorry, but Im not sure youre my type.
This time when Rick laughed it was full-bodied, loud, and genuine. Josie could see Teeny lean back on his stool to make sure all was well. She looked over the back of the high booth and gave him a salute.
I like you, Josie, Rick said. Id like to do this again.
Sure. Or maybe I could cook for you sometime.
His eyes widened. Or I could cook for you.
With that, Josie silently checked off another item from the list. She was about to ask him how, in the name of all that was holy, he hadnt been snatched up by some woman a long time ago, but the waiter chose that moment to bring their check.
Rick asked if Josie had time to take a walk before she went back to the office. After a quick call to the newsroom and a check of her voice mail, she joined Rick on the sidewalk.
Mind if we walk up Market Street to the Ferry? he asked.
Josie grinned up at him, hoisted her bag on her shoulder, and said shed love it.
It was a pleasant May afternoon in San Francisco, with a sharp breeze and a bright blue sky. Market Street was packed with the working crowd, everyone on a mission to get somewhere quick. By contrast, the two of them were simply taking a stroll.
It surprised Josie when Rick reached for her hand and gave her fingers a squeeze. She had to laughhere she was, light-years away from listless Lloyd, strolling down the street hand in hand with a man custom-made for her by the universe, on a date so enjoyable it was scary. If it werent for Teeny observing them from a distance of about twenty paces, the moment would have been perfect.
Bennett Cummings believed this was a private matter, a wrong that could be righted by his hand alone, with the utmost of discretion. The criminal justice system had failed him spectacularly. His civil case could be tied up in the courts for decades. Hed known for some time that if he wanted justice, hed have to go out and get it himself.
He glanced over at his wife, sound asleep beside him despite the glare of his reading lamp. Shed aged so much in the last seven years. Grief would do that to a woman. He removed his eyeglasses, rubbed the bony bridge of his nose, and sighed. Years ago, hed decided not to involve Julia in the details. It would be easier for her if she remained oblivious. Julia wanted it done, of course, but she had no interest in how he planned to do it. Shed suffered enough.
Cummings turned out the light and curled up on his side in the darkness, pulling the satin comforter close. He didnt know why he bothered. He hadnt slept well in seven years. And since that morning two weeks agowhen Margot slipped away from them foreverhis mind had not stopped its weaving and churning, not for a second.
Richard Rousseau was no dullard. The young man was as thorough and cautious a businessman as his father had been, and Cummings had to admire how hed gone about keeping himself and his assets safe. Both his hillside home in San Francisco and his wine country retreat were sewn up tight as a virgindigital motion sensors, heat sensors, automatic lights, and a small army of highly trained security staff. Unfortunately, Cummings hadnt yet found a way to get to any of themthey were well paid, had great benefits, and were loyal to Rousseau. And because the whole Rousseau family was gone and the young man appeared to have no social life whatsoever, there was no one to use as leverage against him.
Rousseau also had taken advantage of every stateside loophole and every offshore safe haven that would protect his inheritance from civil litigation. In fact, Cummings had to admit that Rousseau had gone the route he himself would have taken had he found himself in a similar predicamentif hed murdered an innocent girl, got off with a slap on the wrist, and fled across the country to hide like a coward.
Cummings shut his eyes tight, the rage pummeling his insides. He was well aware that Rousseau had turned over a new leaf as it was so blithely called, but it was for naught. A lifestyle of celibacy, good deeds, and hard work on the West Coast would never erase the devastation hed left behind on the East Coast. A hundred anonymous charitable foundations and a thousand spiritual awakenings couldnt bring Margot back.
Cummings turned his face into the pillow and gritted his teeth against the pain. Rousseau had stolen his daughters life and destroyed the lives of those whod loved her. Rousseau had killed his baby girl, his precious, golden, happy daughter, the only child hed ever had. The young man had suffered physically, but hed survived. Hed healed. And it wasnt right. It would never be right until Rick Rousseau was dead.
Cummings allowed flashes of memory to pass through his mind. Holding Margots hand on the beach. Teaching her how to drive a stick shift.
Watching her walk down the center staircase that October morning, when he suddenly realized his little girl had grown into a beautiful woman, almost overnight.
Cummings cried freely. He knew Julia was so heavily medicated that hed wake the dead before hed ever wake her.
CHAPTER 7
Josie talked on the telephone headset while her fingers clicked at the keyboard. The leisurely lunch had left her short on time, and she had exactly twenty minutes to get her Tuesday obit feature to the city desk, and it was a big one. Paulie Patrakis, sixty-four, beloved owner of San Franciscos Olympia Kitchen restaurant, had keeled over that morning while taking a tray of baklava from the oven. Josie tried to remain objective during the telephone interview with Paulies eldest daughter, but the truth was, news of Paulies death hit her hard. He had been a kind and sweet man, and he made the best baklava this side of the Aegean Sea. Up until very recently, a triangle of his honey-oozing melt-in-the-mouth phyllo had been Josies sensual thrill of choice. But that was before she met Rick.
He worked hard and he loved his family and friends, Paulies daughter, Issy, was saying. He never needed anything fancy to be happy. He woke up every day happy.
Josies fingers flew across the keys, relieved that shed found her lead.
Just then, Gingers head appeared in Josies cubicle doorway. Beas head popped over Gingers shoulder soon after. Josie glanced their way, still typing, when they approached her desk. Since it looked like her friends were parking instead of merely passing by, Josie held up a finger to indicate shed be a minute.
Paulie Patrakis died, Josie mouthed to them.
Gingers face fell. Oh, how sad. He was such a nice man! she whispered.
Then panic hit her expression. What am I going to do for baklava?
Josie returned her attention to the phone call, trying to wrap up the interview. Issy, I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me today.
We received the photo, so were set to run the article tomorrow. Again, I am so sorry for your familys loss. Well all miss him. After a few more thank yous and youre welcomes, Josie ended the call.
This is really depressing, Bea said. He wasnt very old, was he?
Sixty-four, Josie said.
I wont survive menopause, Ginger said, blinking. Im sure of it now.
Josie grinned at her friends. She couldnt help it. She was in love. Just forty minutes ago, she was in Ricks arms, his lips on hers and his hands in her hair, right in front of hundreds of tourists. And Teeny. Hed agreed to come to Josies for dinner Thursday. The other reason she was smiling was because she knew something Bea and Ginger didntIssy Patrakis had just informed her that Paulie had had the decency to place the large tray of freshly baked desserts on the counter before he collapsed, and the restaurant was open for customers to pay their respects.