“How can you say that?”
“I checked him out.”
She shook her head. “Can you really know so little about women?”
“I can, and you know it.”
“Dad, listen to me,” she said, assuming the role of parent, a role that suited her better than me. “You need to tell her four things: you’re alive, what happened, why it happened, and how you feel.”
Sure, I could tell Kathleen those things, but I felt she’d have a better chance at happiness with a steady, normal guy like Tom. Addie was also a major part of the equation. Addie had lost her first family, then, three years ago, she’d lost me. Then Tom came into her life, and I had no doubt that she loved him and accepted him as a father figure. If I came back into Kathleen’s life Addie would be forced to lose either me or Tom. The poor kid had been through enough, she didn’t deserve to lose a third father figure. To further complicate things, I still wasn’t certain that life in the suburbs would suit me. Last but not least, if Kathleen chose me, she’d always wonder if I was the right choice. If she rejected me, she’d always wonder if Tom was the right choice. It wasn’t fair to put her in that situation.
But I did love Kathleen, and wished things had turned out differently.
“Dad?” Kimberly said, bringing me back to the present. “Will you tell her the four things?”
I sighed. “It’s not that simple.”
“Is it simpler than losing her?”
Chapter 61
Eva LeSage was a doll.
Maybe five feet tall, she weighed about the same as my left arm. Her face and everything else about her was delicate to the point of seeming fragile. She had almond, cat-like eyes, frosted hair, and a young girl’s voice that still retained the slightest hint of a Russian accent. Looking at her up close, it was hard to find any similarity between her and Tara Siegel, other than height and general facial resemblance. If Darwin had truly intended to cover Tara’s death with Eva’s body, our people would have had an uphill battle convincing anyone they were even related. All I could think was that Eva must have changed dramatically over the past few years, and no one told Darwin.
I wondered if Callie had done something to alter Eva’s weight or features. A half drop of arsenic taken once a week might keep the weight off and produce a complexion similar to Eva’s.
Callie, watching me like a hawk, caught me staring, probably understood what I was thinking. She shook her head at me, a subtle reminder that I was on her turf, and therefore my life was in her hands. I nodded back, hoping to send the signal: okay, none of my business, everything’s cool.
We were in Callie and Eva’s luxury high rise condo, overlooking the Vegas strip. These types of units start above two million dollars, and from the looks of the upgrades, the furniture and wall coverings, I’d say this one was somewhere north of three.
Eva turned out to be a gourmet cook. She prepared a wonderful four-course dinner, one that partnered different wines with each course. Whenever I complimented Eva, Callie beamed. It was clear that Eva was her treasure.
My cell phone rang. I checked the caller ID and excused myself to the foyer.
“What’s up, Sal?”
“You see the paper today?”
“Which one?”
“Cincinnati.”
“I’m in Vegas, Sal.”
“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, paper says someone—whatcha call—anonymously donated two hundred thousand dollars scholarship money for Myron Goldstein’s kids to go to Dartmouth.”
“So?”
“Goldstein was a guy got his throat slit at a rest stop here a few days ago, as if you didn’t know.”
“So?”
“So what do you think about that?”
“I think his kids would rather have their father alive.”
“My kids wouldn’t,” he said.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Sal. I’m sure your kids love you.”
“They love money, sex and drugs more.”
“But you’re still on the list, right?”
He thought about it a minute. “Yeah. I’m still on there somewhere.”
“Stay on the list, Sal. That’s what it’s all about.”
We hung up and I found the girls in the kitchen.
“Let me help you with the dishes,” I said.
“No, please,” Eva said. “You and Cal go in the den and visit. I’ll finish up and join you in a few minutes.”
Callie escorted me to the den.
“Well?” she said.
“She’s a doll.”
“I told you.”
“You did. And listen, Callie, if you girls want to make out in front of me, or play a little slap and tickle, I hope you know I’m cool with it.”
“Slap and tickle? Oh. My. God!”
I looked at her. Eva might be adorable, but Callie was peerless. She was wearing high-waist, navy pinstripe pants and a white V-neck Tee with cap sleeves. Her hair was wild tonight, almost electric. Slung over one side of the armchair beside her was a navy leather Dior handbag with a buckled strap. A substantial diamond tennis bracelet graced her wrist.
“Looks like you’ve managed all right without me these past three years,” I said.
“A girl’s gotta do,” she said. Then she fell silent. Something invisible came over her eyes and her expression changed the slightest bit.
